Danyel
spiral origin
Yankee
Einherjar 906
Soldat Elf
rabidbacon
Izurich
Mas Bagus
Lugubrious
Crimson FlameSolomon Sparrow
Location: Rascade, Kindeance
Solomon kept his eyes on Roland the entire journey through the castle corridors, gates, and rooms. They walked in silence, not because of how late in the night it was, but because of the weight of the yet to be revealed request. At least, that is what Solomon assumed. To be called for at night, surely when the other’s would have fallen asleep by now, the matter must have been severe. Not urgent, but certainly not something one would reveal lightly.
Once the silence was finally broken, Roland mentioned the Black Serpent Guild. Solomon recognized the name. The altercation had not only drawn Henri away from his group, but had left him missing, presumed dead. The fighting ring, the multiple houses involved, slavery, arms dealing. The group was far reaching and notoriously devious. Though they had fallen, they had certainly left not shortage of trouble behind.
Roland stopped in front of a heavy door. Upon opening it, Solomon could see the extent of the King and his men. Solomon knew that the king was holding the body of one of his would be assassins somewhere, but the extent to also restore the corpse of the black serpent guild was equal parts impressive and concerning. Despite the grisly scene and the mixture of chemicals in the air, Solomon felt himself at home. This was a lab, and one Solomon would find great use of.
Solomon meandered towards the table on which lay the body of a man once torn apart, put back together. The man sewing the abdomen was focused on his work, not reacting to Solomon’s presence. Solomon’s gaze drifted from the middle aged corpse’s abdomen where the apprentice was working up to the open chest cavity, the heart and lungs destroyed beyond function, but still recognizable. His eyes then landed on his face. The man’s eyes were open, but his face showed a clear sign of terror and pain. Time may have removed the shine of his eyes, but there was no hiding the recent history they witnessed.
“Tell me. What have you endured.” whispered Solomon softly. Roland hesitated, but otherwise approached Solomon’s side from behind. He pinched his nose as the intensity of the smell increased. Solomon head hovered over the corpse’s face, his eyes closed, but his hood concealing his own head completely. As Roland spoke, Solomon did not respond. Solomon stood almost completely still, unsettlingly so. Another in the room also came beside Solomon and the corpse.
"We will need you to wake him up." said the apothecary animatedly.
"And talk. We will need him to be alive so folks can hear him screeching when the horses pull him apart." continued the larger figure . He was more demanding compared to the apothecary's request. Solomon slowly straighten up, at least as much as he could given his age.
“Tell me, why do you believe I can do something like that?” he asked. The question sounded genuine. Roland’s eye’s widened, and the larger armored figure appeared further irritated.
“Surely the rumors are not entirely false.” said Roland after a little of a stammer, “His highness wouldn’t have requested you specifically if you couldn’t. Look at the woman who arrived with you and your group. I’ve never seen anything like it before. A half ghost. Who would have known such a creature could exist?”
“Who indeed.” Solomon chuckled, despite the setting and seriousness of the other persons working inside the laboratory mortuary. “Very well, I will see what I can do. You should know, my well built friend, using my methods means he will talk, but he will not screech. There is no pain among the deceased.”
The well built person was even more incredulous upon hearing the news. From the armor attire, helm and the ring of keys and manacles, Solomon could tell he wasn’t paying about being the jailer. “Unacceptable. We won’t get the people’s attention if we just quarter a dead body.”
“He is a dead body.”
“That’s not the point. We need the people to believe he is alive and that he is being punished for his crimes.”
“Being killed once isn’t enough?”
“King Fredricus has a plan. We need this to work. I need him to scream.” the jailer raised a fist. If it wasn’t for the apprentice working, they might have slammed it down on the corpse. They were adamant about this. Solomon could see his drive wasn’t sadism, but loyalty. It looked as though the king did have a plan, and he needed to flow flawlessly. This jailer was keenly invested in this operation. It wasn’t just them either. The others had various looks on their faces, expecting this outcome. Solomon took another look at the corpse, though Roland and the jailer could see his mouth move beneath his mask, no words escaped it.
For Solomon, he was making a few further inquiries with the body. Free of restraint, but still unmoving, it gave all of it’s memories willingly. He was Gerralt, a leader of the Black Serpent Guild. The pain and suffering this man helped facilitate was staggering. The fodder he provided ruthless fighters for the entertainment of the few. And the suffering he put those he had trafficked for measly profits. He caught glimpses of Jormungandr, and how she was isolated for weeks at a time, left to beg for this man’s touch. A thought touched his mind. Perhaps, there was a way to give everyone what they wanted. This was an opportunity he might not see for a long time.
“Well?” spoke the jailer. Solomon’s demeanor changed. Though it was hard to see given his cloak, hood and mask, there was something different. It was as if the room felt noticably darker, and Solomon’s presence more sinister. He turned to face the jailer properly.
“I might have a way. I recommend you stand back.” Solomon then turned to face the apprentice who was just finishing up, “that includes you.”
Solomon looked at the body again, holding his hand out over his chest. This was an opportunity, and for a first time experiment, this was probably the most exceptional person to preform. Solomon thought at least Cedar was not here to witness this. He would be all kinds of against this. It was a pleasant thought, given the unpleasant circumstance. It could even be considered mad, but his theories needed to be proven.
The lanterns within the roomed dimmed, and even the smell of herbs and chemicals subsided, replaced with that of the smell of death. Black energy with silver wisps seeped from between the pages of the large tome, fastened near Solomon’s lower back. The belts unfastened, magical auras became visible and dissipated, the two metal plates fell to the floor with a short clatter. It drifted in front of Solomon’s face, angled towards the ceiling, it’s pages fluttering as though they were blown by the wind. The pages kept turning until it reached on near the very back of the book, a singular inscription placed in the center of both pages.
While the energy still flowed from the book to Solomon, and then to the corpse of Gerralt, stray tendrils began to spread out in all directions centered from the two small inscriptions within the book. While it was hard to make out, with enough focus, these stray tendrils appeared to take the form of hands. Those of black seemingly reached out towards the ceiling, while those of silver reached down towards the floor. As the spell commenced, these tendrils reached wildly, gripping at the air until one seemingly snagged something. Since beginning his cast, Solomon spoke audibly, though still barely more than a whisper.
“Rise again. Your death I suspend. Your time among the lived has yet to end.” The vaguely hand shaped tendrils pulled back towards the book, and a new flush of energy poured from the book down into the body like a liquid. Tendrils rose out of the body, and turned back diving back into the pool with vigor. It almost looked as though the magic was sewing something in place. Muscles began to twitch, and Gerralt’s wide open eyes shifted back and forth. His heart even beat once, and his lung inflated with air. Gerralt’s head turned slowly to face Solomon’s, the look of horror remaining. His face actually contorted more, revealing further anguish. Visibly, the man’s lungs inflated as much as they could in their damaged state, and he released a pain riddled howl.
“Cease your screams, ignore your pain.” commanded Solomon. Though Gerralt’s face remained in a state of agony, his scream stopped instantly. With his spell finished, the book closed, drifting back to it’s place belted to Solomon’s person, the other safeguards levitating and resealing the book under their protections. He held out his hand, stopping the others from approaching.
“I’m not quite done.” said Solomon, not turning his head. He kept his eyes on the newly raised Gerralt. Normally the dead raised wouldn’t feel pain. Even those special he had summoned were incapable of it. Solomon himself couldn’t feel pain either, not that any of his allies would know. But here, Solomon violated the space among the afterlife. He had in a way resurrected the soul of Gerralt into the body of a dead man. Were it not for the damage that could not be repaired, there might have been a chance the pain he experienced would be minuscule. Solomon needed to know just how successful such a blasphemous alteration of his raise dead spell was in its purpose.
After an uncomfortably long time of watching Solomon’s unmoving figure and the frozen anguish of Gerralt’s features, Solomon stepped back. He motioned for the other’s to approach if they wished. Some were curious, the apothecary among them, while other were horrified. No doubt they also heard the stories, and knew of a potential chance, but to see it actually happen. It was hard for some of them to believe that any forces within nature even allowed this. For Solomon, he had gotten some answers. Some promising, others less so. It was a start, but there was still much to learn, much to figure out. In time, Solomon’s hoped his next attempt would yield better results.
“Gerralt. Compose yourself, speak the truth, and continue to ignore your pain. You will obey what is asked by those appointed by the king." commanded Solomon. Finally, Gerralt’s face relaxed, but the shaking of his eyes could not hide how much pain he was enduring. His chest was exposed, and his body was in stitches. If it were not for his now undead state, he surely would have gone into shock if not having perished a second time.