Post by Deleted on Mar 18, 2017 15:49:29 GMT -4
(The original thread, for those interested.)
Name: "Fezcaarg Bonecursed." The name is spoken with such gravel you could pave a road with it- the lower jaw of the skeleton moves up and down in some semblance of speech- but the voice that comes out is obviously magical in nature, sounding like two rocks being scraped together.
Kingdom:
"Ermor." The increasingly begrudging voice replies, obviously not liking having to talk so much.
Magic Skills: The skeleton grumbles, and gives out what could be described as more of a grumble than a sigh, as he does not need air. Two red orbs move around, like they were in the place o eyes, and his face betrays no emotion. He calmly summons a small bone, which hovers about an inch from his carpals. vertically, with unseen force, it turns horizontal and flies at terrifying speeds toward a nearby tree, it pierces the wood- splintering it all over the ground beneath the mighty oak. He gives a few more displays of his 'Evocation' magic, such as having sharp parts of a ribcage pierce from under the earth, which would make the terrain significantly more difficult to navigate and would have maimed anyone unfortunate enough to be standing in that spot. He uses his evocation to summon bones and parts of a skeleton to be used as projectiles, improvised melee weapons, surrounding himself in a rib cage to defend himself and make terrain generally more difficult to manage. Generally they can be anywhere from insignificantly small to around three metres in height depending on how much power he puts behind them. All three in Evocation.
Inventory: Scraps of what used to be the armour of a proud warrior, dented and battered and rusty and any organic parts covered in a layer of mould. The only other thing he has on his person is a rusted and mostly blunt dagger, that is mainly there for sentimental value; to appease what little is left of his fragmented memory before he became... this.
Appearance: An old skeleton, his clothes are nearly non-existent, being scraps of what they used to be, and bits of chain mail and metal that have gotten caught on his bones.
Goal: To kill the old sonuvabitch necromancer who put him in this sorry state; after that- he doesn't know.
Their asked and answered, the mercenaries return to their normal conversations, not paying all that much attention to you. It's probably because you don't seem like the talkative type, and also because skeletons aren't the easiest beings to approach. That isn't to say no one attempted to strike up a conversation with you, quite the contrary, actually. A handful of them decided to to approach you and see if there's was anything in particular you'd be up to talk about. The old mage especially goes out of his way to talk to you about your history about who did this to you.
"I'm no kind of necromancer myself, and my order basically forbids it anyway." explains the mage "But the subject sure as hell strikes my interest. So, care to share anything you know with a kindly old mage?" he says, taking a more joking tone of voice with the final few words, and then adding a wink at the end.
