Tsaimath
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Chapter 522
🕑 Added 2022-01-03 17:01:04 +0000 UTCJust trying to breathe was a challenge and I didn’t even try to rise from my kneeling position, the pain in my side making sure I knew that to be a very bad idea. Lenore was nearby, half-sprawled on the ground, her feathers ruffled and I could vaguely feel her exhaustion over our connection.
Pushing past the headache, I realised that we had won, the skull still clutched in my hand was definitive proof of that.
“Love?!” Sigmir knelt next to me, one arm wrapping around me, carefully making sure that I wasn’t about to collapse. At the same time, she was careful to keep myself still, to not aggravate the wound in my side further, obviously some of the damage having carried over from my Avatar-state.
“I’m…” I tried to claim that I was fine but the lie died on my lips. Sigmir would know the truth anyway, trying to act tough with someone who literally had a window into your mind was a foolish idea.
“I will be fine.” I remanded my words, letting myself lean on her.
“You better!” she groused, giving me a squeeze. “What happened? You suddenly dashed in, taking that glaive to the side, ripped that skeleton’s head off and then things got weird.”
For a moment, I tried to remember but the vague memories and blinding pain convinced me that it wasn’t a wise approach.
“Weird? How?” I asked instead, trying to use her observation where my own were insufficient. Nearby, Ylva was carefully nosing Lenore, making sure that her avian friend was in an okay shape.
“You held up that skull and the whole valley was covered in a vortex. Then you collapsed and your Avatar shattered, leaving Lenore and you split apart.” she explained, leaving me almost as confused as before, though it prompted me to look at the skull again, this time actually looking, not just glancing in the general direction of my hand. If Sigmir hadn’t been holding me, I might have stumbled from surprise. I was fairly certain that the undead had a simple skull of bone, with flames in its eye-sockets. Even in my faint and vague memories, the image of Sigmir playing golf with its helmet was vivid.
But the skull in my hand was anything but ordinary or simple, instead of bone, it felt like some sort of crystal, slightly cold to the touch and glinting with a faint, dark luster, reminiscent of polished stone, something like dark marble. And instead of flames flickering in its eyes, one was filled with a purple crystal, glowing with a dark, inner light, the other with a grey one, opaque like clouded glass. Holding it felt… right, though I wasn’t sure why. Before I could Inspect the skull, Olivia was next to me, quietly giving orders.
“Put down a blanket, that wound looks nasty, I need to do something, now!” she ordered Adra, before kneeling on my other side, opposite of Sigmir.
“You are still with us, good.” she muttered, sounding worried, “Don’t even try to use your own magic, I’m pretty sure that glaive was cursed and you’ll need some extra healing, or you might bleed out. I have no idea what your Blood Magic might do, if it interacts with the curse, it might exsanguinate you instantly.” she warned, before quickly speaking a prayer, causing a weird, warm sensation to well up in my side. I could feel the pain recede, though there was still a lingering wrongness that I hadn’t quite noticed.
An angry growl caught my attention, all eyes flickering to Ylva and I realised that Lenore’s feathers were tainted with blood, welling up from a deep wound in her side.
“She has the same wound I have, adjusted for anatomy.” I reasoned, realising that we both were the Raven’s Shadow, so both of us would remain wounded. “Go, help her, I’ll be fine.” I told Olivia, who gave me a quick nod, before ordering Sigmir to put me on the blanket Adra had set up next to us.
“Just breathe, calmly, quietly. Try to relax.” Sigmir gently told me, her bond filled with comfort, care and support, all conveyed with a lingering worry. Her voice managed to bring a smile to my face and I simply let my eyes fall closed, not trying to sleep but trying to let the tension drain from my body, so Olivia’s magic could get me to a place where I could fix myself.
Soon after, Lenore was placed on the blanket next to me, stabilised by Oliiva’s magic but not cured yet, just like me. In the meantime, I had noticed that there was a faint draw from the skull I had been clutching, a soft, creeping drain on my health. Given that I was already wounded and losing HP despite Olivia’s earlier stop-gap measure, I had quickly placed it aside, admonishing Sigmir to leave it alone and the drain had stopped the moment it left my hand. That, in turn, made me curious just what the Raven’s Shadow had wrought there. Inspect gave me some answers, though I was still wondering.
- Skull of Cursed Deliverance
- Rarity: Unique - Cursed Artifact
- Type: Focus
- Special Effect: Imbued - Due to the process used for the creation of this Focus, it is strongly in tune with the Death- and Darkness-Magic of the Raven’s Shadow. Ice- and Wind-Magic channeled through the focus cost 30% less.
- Special Effect: Unweaving - Spells channeled through this Focus that disrupt or destroy the Undead have an increased effect.
- Special Effect: Death’s Gaze - Channeling Astral Power into this Focus allows you to direct Death’s Gaze, dealing damage to whatever is caught in it. Damage dependant on Death-Affinity of the wielder, bypassing many resistances.
- Special Effect: Cursed - This focus is strongly attuned to Death, if the person holding it lacks in affinity, Death will claim them.
- Condensed from the lingering energy of hundreds of Undead, this Focus serves as a powerful implement to deliver anyone from the Realm of the Living, to the Realm of the Dead.
The description itself was interesting, to the point that I felt annoyed at being unable to actually use the thing properly. But other than that, I started to wonder just how powerful Death’s Gaze was, or could be. Or how it worked, not that I was about to test things out, not easily at least.
“You infected me.” Lenore softly cawed, once more using my own voice. There was obvious strain in her voice, coming from the pain she had to be under, but at the same time, there was elation and mirth audible.
“What happened?” I asked, a small part of me worried at her words but the tone almost stopped those worries. Almost.
Instead of replying verbally, she moved her head a little and a blue box appeared in my field of view, obviously shown to me by her.
- Trait gained
- You gained the trait: Nevermore
- Servants of Death carry mortal souls from the Realm of the Living, into the Realm of the Dead. You might become one of them and this trait is one step on that Road.
For a moment, I had no idea what to say. My first impression was that it was huge, though the exact implications were a mystery to me. Just the mention of a major concept like Death was enough to bring awe, and the idea of becoming a direct servant was beyond my comprehension. There were myths of Ravens doing the described job, but those Ravens were direct servants of the Divine. If that applied here, Lenore had just taken a major step up.
“What does it do?” I asked, hoping that she had something more quantifiable to share.
“Not sure.” she admitted, and as I looked at the window again, I stumbled over the wording and used Inspect on the Skull again, my lips curling into a smile. The skull wasn’t for me to use, it was an item that the Raven’s Shadow had created for Lenore, just like the crown was mine.
“Take a look.” I prodded her, to take a look at the skull, while my own eyes flickered to my log. There were countless kills of Undead in there, ending with killing the Lord. Most of the undead gave no EXP at all, their level too minor, but just sheer numbers added up, the Lord bringing the kicker that gave me levels, two of them, bringing me to 110. That, in turn, meant my Intelligence and Intuition went up by one automatically, while I also gained two assignable points, though I wasn’t sure where to put them. Shaking my head, I decided to think about it later, once I wasn’t in quite so much pain. In addition to the level, there were skill-increases in Darkness- and Death-Magic, no surprise there, bringing them to 65 and 22 respectively.
An untranslatable caw brought my attention back to the outside, the sound vibrating with confusion and annoyance. Looking at Lenore, the impression I got was pure outrage.
“How am I supposed to wield that thing?!” she asked, my eyes moving from her, to the piece of equipment tailor-made for her. Only that it was almost as large as she was, much to my amusement.
