[Secyclion Harbour] Call of the Dead [Closed]

[Nimh]

The bones sat up, legs stretched out in front of them for all the world as if they were quite alive and enjoying a good lounge on some random stone outcropping in the middle of a cave somewhere. The skeletons sat there. And sat there. It seemed like a long time passed as the woman with the bone-yellow eyes and the skeletons sat there and stared at him, for all the world as if the two dead things had eyes and watched him, skulls turned towards him.

As if they waited for something.

All of them waited. Waited and waited until finally the woman convulsed again and the light in her yellow eyes went out...went out because something else entirely came out of her. The figure was ghostly and it floated as a transparent specter hovering above the floor. Long, pale hair streamed out around her and bright yellow eyes gleamed in a round, pallid face. She wore very little, much like the pale woman had who had led him there--a woman who was now stretched prone across the ground, limbs skewed at different angles.

Something of the woman would remind him very much of the figure he had seen the darkening before, dangerous and alluring--the one who had nearly led him over the edge of the rocks.

She swept towards him, hands outstretched before her. The distance was not great and there was little time to react to something so transparent as this thing in front of him. He was prepared to fight the skeletons, but specter?

The ghostly woman sunk into him and Vanderlou could feel her seeping into his skin, into his bones, grasping at his body as if she were a leech seeking blood beneath the skin. Before him, the skeletons pushed themselves away from their tomb and came towards him, bone hands curled into talons, jaws agape--they looked intent on grabbing and grasping.

He would be hard-pressed to dodge them for the specter slowed him down, his reflexes dull. It seemed as if she fought his will, to try and still him and command him--but there was shred of him within. A shred that could fight and protest--if he wished for freedom.

[Vanderlou]

He couldn't believe his eyes, what he saw, the bones and the spirit - everything in this cave supported the folklore revolving around this island. It was probably even safe to assume that the missing students were dead, that these were all that remained of them but no, he shook his head. He had picked up this job and his conscience wouldn't allow him to run, not until he had made sure that these were the students.

Vanderlou gritted his teeth, ready to throw a punch at the nearest adversary when the woman who had invited him here went limp, her body collapsing like a doll on the stone floor as a ghost reached out towards him, stunning him as it pushed itself into him making his body feel like lead.

It was obvious now that the ghost wanted him dead, if not then there was most likely a far worse fate waiting for him later and he wasn't about to stand here doing nothing while the skeletons came at him. He had decided that he wouldn't fail here, he couldn't. Not now, not without trying his best.

And so for the first time in a long time Vanderlou opted for a reckless way out of this fine mess he'd gotten himself into. He could bit his lips very hard, hoping that the pain could snap his body out of the forced stupor the ghost was forcing upon him and if he could, he would take in a deep breath he would shout and run forward, arms drawn back in preparation for a brutal right-straight. The plan was simple, he would charge straight into the barricade of skeletons hoping that their brittle forms would collapse in his mad charge. There were no sinews to support their hollow frames, even if the bones themselves were tough there was no way they would hold together under a powerful impact - true, they would probably stand up again, reform themselves but by then he would be moving up the tunnels and maybe, just maybe he'd find something he could use as a weapon.

[Nimh]

Vanderlou ran and the skeletons crackled beneath the force of his charge, falling and scattering around the ground into useless pile of bones. He could feel the leaden weight of the ghost in his body, heavy and thick, pulling at him. To do what? It was a sensation that refused to leave him as he ran and searched. Nothing. He couldn't find anything--he held only the dagger that the pale woman with the yellow eyes had given him. It would seem that, aside from this, she'd had nothing else.

His frantic running led him into another chamber. He had gone back the way he'd come and yet found himself...elsewhere. The room was not large nor small, but moderate in its height and width. And dark. Very dark.

And suddenly that weight of the ghost abandoned him and his head cleared, freed of whatever influence had sat within him.

Vanderlou felt himself stagger with the sudden emptiness and even as he oriented to the darkness around him, it flared up with light--blinding him for a moment to his surroundings. Something whispered against his flesh, soft and barely present--like gauze drifting against his skin. Help them, it pleaded. The Spirits of the Bone, they have them. Help them. The woman was in front of him, the ghostly specter he had seen the darkening before. This time she was sad, hopeful, needing.

And then scraping filled the chamber and someone screamed.

And before him stood a skeleton, bare save for a few shreds of skin that clung to its ivory-yellow limbs. In its grasp, long fingers of pointed bone, was a young boy, dark hair twisted into a painful grasp, head tilted back. The other bony hand clasped small, delicate throat, squeezing. And yet the skeleton stared at Vanderlou...and it seemed as if it grinned.

[Vanderlou]

He had managed to put some distance between him and the skeletons but even as he moved further up the path that would lead him out the cave Vanderlou didn't have any illusions as to his safety, the darkness sure helped in keeping the tension up.

As Van moved up the tunnel he recognized the path he was taking and found some confidence despite the grim situation. Unfortunately for him, any semblance of hope would be lost however. What should've been a turn that was meant to bring him outside to the top of a hill overlooking the dread island instead led him to another room and he realized that this was a cave that was impossible to navigate.

And then the spirit left him, easing the burden on his frame and allowing him to breathe deeply again - though this would only turn out to be a momentary respite. Once more a voice, a barely audible voice called out to him - begged for his assistance and he immediately turned to make his move when a skeleton stepped into his view, and it wasn't alone.

Seeing the skeleton choking the child Vanderlou immediately made his move to attack it. He drew back his dagger favoring his knuckles and aimed for the skeleton's arms.

[Nimh]

The dagger swiped at the bony appendage and the dull scrape of blade against bone grated through the cavern, echoing and mingling with the whine of the child as the air was choked and squeezed from its throat. The child hung on to the finger-bones that crushed, but was otherwise limp and useless in the grasp, as if incapable of tumbling free from the vice grip. Doubtlessly this was true.

The blade strike did little more than dislodge a bone. The long arm bone jutted out and the arm skewed at an angle. But the skeleton had twisted and, for the most part, it remained safe. It leered at Vanderlou in that odd, skeletal way, clicking its jaws together in a near-soundless cackle and then lashed out with a bony hand with a surprising burst of speed. It caught hold of the dagger blade and tugged at it, not enough to wrench it from his hand, but to encourage a forward stumble.

All the while the skeleton hung on to the boy's throat, squeezing, crushing. The gasping was fainter. Red funneled from the tips of the boy's fingers and he dangled in the skeleton's hand, weaker and weaker, paler, bluer. Dying.

[Vanderlou]

The kid was dying, the boy was running out of breath in front of his eyes.

But was there anything he could do? He blinked, desperation came bursting forth from the corners of his mind like water bursting from a damn. Anger, pure and primal surged through him and sent his heart beating in a hurried and ever increasing staccato.

"You're not going to die, not in front of my eyes!" a pair trembling hands shot forward, reaching out to grab the skeleton's wrists. At this point the half-elf didn't care about what happened to him, his mind's absolutely purpose was only to save the boy and there was no way he was going to forgive himself if he failed here and now.

"Not on my watch!" he screamed, eyes narrowing as the red hot pulse of blood and adrenalin caused the veins on his temple to throb mercilessly fast.

[Nimh]

Vanderlou surged forward, arms outstretched to grab. In that moment, he felt his body full and slow again, as if the ghost had reclaimed the space it had previously extracted itself from. Rather than impede Vanderlou, it seemed to help steer him and protect as he lunged forward.

The contact burned the half-breed's hands as his fingers encircled the skeleton's wrists, pain shooting up the lengths of Vanderlou's arms as he held on. The kid spasmed, screamed, as the bones in the skeleton went red hot with the touch, the spindly body shaking violently under Vanderlou's grasp.

And then, quite suddenly, the skeleton shattered and shards of small bone repelled from where the lanky body had once stood. The boy dropped hard to the ground with a thud and pain fled over Vanderlou as the shards bit deeply into his skin.

The world fuzzed, incoherent, and Vanderlou felt himself dropping to the ground, a heavy weight he could no longer support on his own. Then he knew darkness and nothing more.

When he came to, it was to the sound of a crackling fire. The setting was familiar--he was out on the beach, the fire several feet away from him. Stretched out on his back, he could see up at the sky, glittering with stars, clouds obscuring the face of the moon.

Someone leaned over him, the same man who had accompanied him for a majority of the walk up to the old ruins. "Ah, you're awake! Welcome back." He flashed a grin at Vanderlou, but gestured for him not to move. Pain washed over to Vanderlou. "We got most of the fragments out, but some of them are in too deep. It was the strangest thing--he said it was bone that was in you. You didn't happen upon the Bone Woman, did you?" He looked uneasy, casting a look around him. "Anyway, they'll be after you to tell them what happened. An odd thing, finding you at the base of the path going up to the tombs. And with that boy next to you, too. One of the boys that was missing, apparently. Shame, though..." He trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Hungry?" He held out a bowl of soup.

[Vanderlou]

Vanderlou pushed the man's arm away from him and he immediately wrenched himself out of the bed. It didn't matter if he was injured, he could sleep with a few cuts and bruises but he knew that he wouldn't be able to until he found out what had transpired during the time he had passed out and more importantly...

"Where's the kid?" Vanderlou was already putting on his jacket, looking back at the man once more only to get the answer to his question. "Tell me now."

It didn't matter what the man had to say but once he'd tell him where the kid was he'd already bolt out the tent and find the kid to assess his condition and if possible he'd find out about the whereabouts of the other. Of course, he already had a vague idea as to what happened but still... this was something he needed to confirm.

[Nimh]

The soup splattered over the man and he hissed, jumping to his feet, as the hot soup seeped into his clothes. He immediately began to pat-dry the offending dampness in an effort to be rid of it.

"The boy? He is dead," he responded, a little sharper than he expected. He briefly stopped patting at the soup-spots to reach out and snag Vanderlou's arm. He missed. Vanderlou was already half-way out of the tent.

Vanderlou's search brought him to the edge of the camp where someone had laid the boy out across the pebble-strewn sand. A sheet had been draped over him and a pair of guards stood nearby, glancing towards Vanderlou in surprise as they recognized him. A look at the boy would reveal dark welts purpled around his neck. Someone had closed his eyes. But he was very much dead.

"You, Master Lativian will want to speak with you." One of the guards pointed at him, gestured back towards a tent towards the middle of the camp.

[Vanderlou]

The boy had died, there was no question about it now. He had failed, utterly failed despite his best attempts to save a life and he could only blame himself for having been powerless to stop it.

"The coward better speak to me," Vanderlou strode towards the tent, his injured hands clenching into fists despite the pain. "I'd like to know why he never led a search party to where the children obviously were."

He was brimming with anger, both his fists were shaking with frustration barely kept in check and all Lativian had to do was say one wrong word and he would punch the man squarely on the jaw.

[Nimh]

The guards watched Vanderlou depart, expressions of surprise on the face, but they did and said nothing, returning their vigil to the area around them.

The tent was tastefully set up, well-made and accented with some nice furnishings that someone had, for whatever reason, thought to bring along. Lativian was bent over a table and talking quietly with someone, confiding in plans of some nature or another. He looked up, surprised, as Vanderlou came in, and frowned briefly. "Ah, you are awake. They did not tell me." He straightened and the frown blossomed into a faint smile. "I had heard you would be laid out for another brightening, but I am glad to see you are up and about. Come, won't you sit?"

He gestured for Vanderlou to take a seat beside the table. "We thought you dead when we first found you. I see they've treated your wounds. Minor ones, that's good. They left the bones in your hands alone--afraid if they cut them out they'd do more damage than good." He smiled faintly, setting a glass down on the table and pouring what looked like brandy into it. "Have a drink, will you, and tell me what happened."

[Vanderlou]

Vanderlou was way too irritated to take a seat, right now he wanted to punch this man if only because he seemed didn't seem the slightest bit miffed about the boy's death. "What happened?!"

"Do you really want to know what happened?!" Vanderlou growled, fists clenching tightly despite the pain that the bone-fragments caused him. "I entered the cavern up the hill where none of your men had the balls to search and I found the kid, along with a host of living skeletons."

"If you knew that there was some truth to the legends behind this isle then why didn't you get more muscle to help? I could've saved the boy if there was at least someone else by my side back there!"

[Nimh]

The man regarded Vanderlou evenly, his mouth etched into a thoughtful frown, as if he didn't quite understand what the problem was. His brows arched slightly and he looked briefly at the man who had been present in the tent before Vanderlou had entered. He looked at Vanderlou with a hard, irritated stare.

"I did not know if there was any truth to the legends," he responded evenly, as if speaking to someone slow. "There have always been rumors surrounding the island--rumors, stories. Are they real? I couldn't tell you. I can't tell you even now."

He folded his arms across his chest, feet braced. "We did not go up to the hill because we wanted to make sure the ruins were secured first and foremost. Should we skip over a potential area simply because you think we might have gained more if we'd immediately checked up the hill?"

He looked down at his table, rearranged some of the materials on its surface. "I regret that the boy has been recovered dead, but there was nothing for it. Perhaps the other boy will show, perhaps not. We can only do what we are capable of. I will not spend my time regretting actions that I could have done if I'd only foreseen the outcome."

He turned his attention back to the other man. "Cerio, see that he is well-fed and returns to his tent for the night. I was told he should not be up and about."

Cerio stepped forward, to herd Vanderlou out.

[Vanderlou]

A coward to the end. Lativian wasn't the least bit interested in the children, no, he was only interested in the fame he could gain if he succeeded in this impossible mission and Vanderlou had already played his part. It was obvious by the way this man was treating him that he no longer needed the sorcerer's services, not that Van would ever want to work with Lativian again.

"I'm not hungry and I'm about to leave anyway," Van told Cerio, his tone stern though reverberating with supressed rage. "There's no use preaching to a man who doesn't believe in his own cause." and with that said he turned his back towards Lativian and pretended to walk away from the man.

However, instead of taking a step forward Van suddenly turned his hips, his entire frame and he pivoted on one foot to deliver a textbook kick straight from the school of Shaasskah. It was a turning kick, an ordinary turning kick but one that carried all of his weight and the momentum of his movement into one booted sole that was aimed for the man's nose.

Van mused that if he connected, he would break the man's nose and incapacitate him. Definitely he probably wouldn't be able to beat Lativian into pulp because there were guards around his quarters but the man was a coward and Van doubted Lativian had the fortitude to stand up from that kind of harrowing blow.

"Here's a little advice, a person can only do as much as he believes he can. That's what makes me that much more of a man than you."

[Nimh]

The kick landed hard against, not his nose, but his chin, as the man had lifted his head instinctively and stepped back as he realized that Vanderlou was not going to walk away as he had first seemed to be doing. It nonetheless hurt and the man stumbled back, clutching at his face as blood gushed out of his lip--it had cut against his lip.

Cerio was instantly calling out for backup and a trio of makeshift guards flooded into the tent, blocking the entrance. They were grappling at Vanderlou in no time, having quickly assessed the situation as they arrived.

As Lativian recovered, rubbing at his throat, he glowered at Vanderlou, but his words were for the men. "Tie him up and keep him out of the way."

They jerked Vanderlou out of the tent and did as instructed--they were muscular men and despite their skirts they knew how to toss a person around. They dumped him back in the tent where he had woken up and the man who had been tending him earlier tipped a frown and wordlessly observed him. "Things did not go well," he murmured absently, nodded. Then he stood and left Vanderlou to his privacy.

Vanderlou was not alone long. As he sat bound on the floor in the tent, he felt a sudden faint tingling in his hands, as if something beneath the surface agitated the flesh. Before him appeared the ghostly woman. She looked somewhat sad. "You tried. For that, I thank you." She reached out, touched his hands. "The bones will protect you, they will let you know when bad spirits or ghosts lurk. It won't be comfortable--a little burn, but they will let you know." She stood there, quiet, as if thinking. She heaved a sigh and shook her head. "It is too bad..." The words faded as she faded, leaving Vanderlou alone in the dark.

The following brightening they departed the island. Vanderlou was dragged onto the ship and left in a corner. When they arrived back on Secyclion he was released but given no reward for his help, not for the injury given Lativian, but since he had found the boy, they did not toss him into gaol (something they made sure to point out to him as they discharged him from the ship).

Reward or not, Vanderlou had at least found one of the students...and surely that must count for something...

Congrats! Vanderlou's hands are now peppered on the inside with small bone fragments (human) that tingle when a good/neutral spirit or ghost is around him and burn when a bad/harmful spirit or ghost is nearby. The more dark the spirit/ghost's intent, the more intense the burning. It will not fade until the ghost/spirit is gone and takes some mild concentration to ignore. They are removable. I've updated your SOF with this information