What emerged might have once been generously referred to as human but the ravages of time and undeath seemed to have done it no favors. It's eyes were hallow pits seeming to consume any light that touched them whilst the wisps of dark clothe clung to it like smoke and shadow. The features of it's face obscured save for those eyes darker than it's surroundings. It's form hunched by something that appeared like the body of another and held in place by the rune etched spear that still glowed with white light in the darkness and defied the darkness that shrouded it.

That it comprehended Alessandro's words remained a mystery as it stood there, head turning and that same gentle sound not unlike sobbing escaped it. Even at this distance, however, the sound seemed to stab uncomfortably at the ear drums and clasped at the heart. It's motions seeming as burdened by pain as it staggered just a little more forward. Far slower than the impressions given by the visions conjured by Alessandro's divinity... It's motions, however, giving glimpses of the limbs beneath the darkness; pale and seemingly no more substantial than the darkness that surrounded it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Sun 26 Aug 2018.

Alessandro waits momentarily before deciding to descend to meet the miserable beast half way across the now dry floor. He keeps his hands clear of the weapons at his hip -- a mild enough concession when you didn't need physical weaponry.

He stops at the midway point and waits patiently for the undead to approach. "Can you talk? Do you understand me?"

The closer Alessandro came to the creature, the greater the pain in ears and mind grew from the piercing quality of it's voice. The shifting, twisting shadows that shrouded it's form seeming as much clothe as actual darkness and seemed to be, as much as anything else, a literal metaphysical separation between it and the world around it. Glimmer's of it's face revealed a worn and miserable expression beneath the hollow eyes and made it clear enough that it was a woman of some middling age.

Of course, now that he had addressed it explicitly, the snapping of it's head was enough to send an unpleasant crick down his own as those hollow eye settled on him. It seemed to comprehend but any noise that came out from it seemed both shrill and washed out as it cradled itself and whatever strange burden was held to it's back by the length of obsidian and word etched spear. It's head silver in hue and tarnished only by blood dark as tar.

Alessandro puzzles out the dimensional affliction laid upon the undead woman who radiated misery. The original enchantments containing the she-thing had been of low magic construction. Perhaps he could resolve it as such.

With a gesture Alessandro draws upon his mastery of the sorcerous arts to dispel the enchantment.

[Commit Effort to dispel any low magic working around her.]

To the skilled eye, it seemed as much part of her animating force as something other beyond the ethereal form of the creature. Regardless, the effort to dispel it was met with a moment's resistance before the world seemed to splinter and crack in the shadows that surrounded the creature. It's voice shrill and just that much more audible; burning into the brain as her head snapped to regard Alessandro with the fullest attention.

The shadows banished and form restored to something approaching solidity, it was hard not to notice the ragged state of what no doubt had once been rich silks or the ragged wound torn through back and chest by the word etched spear... More disturbing, however, was the literal hollows and almost vacant stare that lingered in those vacated sockets... The darkness pooling in them as mumbled words and stiffed sobs escaped the creature seemingly on the brink of howling. The roving eye revealed another detail, however, the small form of something vaguely humanoid impaled upon that same spear and stuck fast to the creature's back. Still and unmoving.

Her mouth stretched open for a moment in silence then before she shrieked. The sound stabbing into the brain but divine might and fortitude leaving only bleeding ears where others might have suffered death.

The thing's agony is apparent and the 'assault' was merely a side effect. Pity welled in Alessandro's heart at the same time as revulsion at her unnatural state and the danger she posed forced a logical conclusion.

Eyes sorrowful he says, "I'm sorry."

With a gesture the banshee feels the crushing weight of infinity drag down even its unnatural frame as the magics holding it together begin to fray from age.

[Two attacks, one hit for 1 hd of damage.]

The sound grew all the more painful to Alessandro's ears as the undead thing suffered just that much more pain. Confusion showing in it's features and ichor seeming to weep from it's empty eyes. It's jaw twisted as it's keening grew, grew, and grew and now it was truly stabbing it's way into Alessandro's brain as stone quaked, buckled, and shattered around the screeching thing as it clutched at the wounds inflicted upon it. A terrible sort of clarity now apparent in it's eyes that stunk of both a mortal sort of fear and the once impotent anger of one perhaps too used to being hurt now.

The ugly bundle of something upon it's back twitching in something like sympathy for the banshee that now seemed fixated in it's hatred of Alessandro and her regard of him as one more tormentor.

OOC: 1 damage suffered on your part.

Steeling himself vs the thing's tormented regard and piercing wail Alessandro drove in with a purpose. It was time to end this thing's pained existence.

[Promptly miss twice.]

The Banshee seemed both there and not as the Alessandro's blades flicked left than right, seeking to end the undead creature's seeming perpetual agony. Each passing through the stuff of shadow that seemed to make up her form and slowly crept back into place in the face of his divine ministrations. Her voice was not so loud now, however, but it still drilled into the ear and brain. Black tears continued to poor from empty eyes and her wails continued to echo off the whole of the tomb. Stone creaking in protest with each reverberation of her dreadful cry.

Pale arms lashed out with fingers braced in rigid, dirty claws to dig deeply of his flesh only to be turned aside by a last minute side step and hard shove with one blade. The pitiable creature staggering away and leaving space between them. Her eyes, empty and shadowed, continued to watch him with that mixture of pain, grief, and hatred now for it's attacks upon it. The strangle bundle on it's back still moving in sympathy with the maimed and impaled creature.

It seemed... reluctant now, however.


21:11, Today: Fate rolled 12 using 1d20+8.  Attack.

Time-driven blades leaped to force back the darkness of the banshee, leaving trailing goo and bone in its wake.

[hit once for 2HD of damage.]

It started as a low sound. Little more than a growl in the Banshee's throat as it was wounded again. It's wounds bleeding with the stuff of shadow and rotted ephemera... It seemed all the more pitiful for it until it's voice rose and rose in power again. It's head throwing back and the glint of the spirit stabbed through it seeming to glow with a further baleful energy. Whether borrowed from the Banshee or simply with an energy all it's own... The sound still slammed with the force of a horse's hooves into the brain. Thought scattering in a wave of persistent ringing and a bone deep and bleak despair.

It didn't want to die, it needed more, it needed to do something... bring something back and that much was evident in the inarticulate screech that now assaulted the Godbound... Only made worse by the sounds of splintering stone from all around and what seemed like the hiss of water once more steeling into the chamber. It was clear enough the stone could not endure much more of the Banshee's excited state.

All the same the Banshee seemed to shrink back again, refusing to remain close if it might be helped... The shadows still bleeding from open wounds and that vaguely human bundle squirming once more upon it's burdened back.


18:30, Today: Fate rolled 9 using 1d8+1.  Screech.

Alessandro's response is equally brutal as he winces at the ear shattering scream. Time erodes the thing at a horrifying rate.

[Time attack for 2 more hd of damage.]

The spear seemed to glow all the brighter as that keening grew louder and louder as stone continued to fracture and buckle around the creature. Black and rotted blood roiled and sizzled around the spear embedded in it's flesh and that unsettling bundle upon it's back continued to squirm and move in pained sympathy for the being it burdened. This was different, however, from what Alessandro had seen thus far of the creature and the sudden force of something tearing deeply at his essence could be felt in the instant.

The screeching of the Banshee threatening greater harm than just to rupture his ear drums and rattle his brain. It was the famed screech of the beast. The one that stole life and will in an instant. The stone around them, all the while, fractured and broken reveling long rotted bones beneath that rattled from the cacophony of the beast... and in some cases seemed to threaten with animating force all their own.

Banshee's using Reaping word. Roll hardiness to resist.

Whatever the banshee had hoped to accomplish amounts to nothing as his divine fortitude brushes aside the wail's damage.

Alessandro gestures and his own reply is lost in the undead things rotted frame.

[1 Effort to resist and two missed attacks.]

The Banshee seemed stunned and still keening in pain as the faint sizzle of flesh could be heard as the spear's glow grew and grew. It's hollow, dark eyes fearful now as it's keening continued to crack and splinter stone around it. It's head swinging this way and that as if something was coming or confusion had claimed that hateful focus it had mustered a moment before. The burden upon it's back still twisting and seeming to cry in sympathy with the Banshee that bore it's weight.

The Banshee stilled suddenly then, eyes fix on a point deeper into the tomb before releasing another piercing shriek and, for want of a better term, exploding into darkness and vanishing from sight once more. The spear's light, the Banshee, her burden, and any semblance of her presence save for cracked and splintered stone vanishing along with her.

Alessandro is content to let the banshee retreat. It had proven an unexpectedly tough opponent able to stand up to Alessandro's unmatched skills and given as good as it got. The rake sheaths his blades and tends his wounds while glancing about the chamber. Whatever that woman's sad story he was here for a reason and it wasn't to hold the undead woman's hand.

Hoisting his lantern again Alessandro takes notes and drawings of the various tombs, looking for frescoes that tell the story of the place as well as any interesting items or tidbits. Perhaps there was magic here as well or tomes of evocations.

The whole of the tomb seemed to grow a fraction's brighter in the absence of the miserable creature that seemed it's sole and chief denizen. That alone allowed the inheritor of the Words of Creation to see just that much more. The rows of raised stones clearly the resting place of a veritable legion of ancestors. Each etched with names and deeds in the ancient tongue of the Howler's past greatness. Relics aplenty seemed to lie in the alcoves carved into the walls that stretch along the outer edge of the tomb and some yawned open like door ways into greater depths suggesting something beyond simply a tomb and perhaps a proper necropolis.

One passage, however, stood out as it's edges were rimmed with a dozen marks burrowed into the stone as if something had worked fingers deep into the stone to propel themselves forward. The scraps of clothe and lingering shadow putting the mystery to rest as Alessandro deduce that through that passage laid nothing short of whatever chamber might have held the Banshee's lair or even her mortal remains... along side whatever treasures or clues to the tragedy of her past that might have given rise to her current state.

Alessandro spends a good hour or more roughly cataloging the lay-out and areas of interest in the old tomb and carefully checking the old relics among the remains. He tried to put names to bodies and other things but recognized there was far more than he could do in a single night.

The relics were carefully laid back in their positions unless they had a specific value of their own, either magic or lore.

At this point Alessandro decides to expand his senses into the earth. His eyes pierce soil and stone as if they were nothing but air as he mapss out the rest of the complex and any potential dangers in its shadows.

[1 Effort for a miracle of Jewel Bright Eyes to span the complex with his vision.]

Expanded awareness was a confusing experience in those first moments as things came into focus but with it also came enlightenment after a fashion. The whole of the necropolis seemed to branch out along four paths set in the cardinal directions. Each laden with more bones of the ancestors, treasures, and what seemed to be further wards against decay and intruders of both the mystical and physical sorts. A curious notion of walls etched with many words dominating the end of each path. Of course, one seemed dominated by a particular darkness and ruin that made it clear as to which set of tombs served as the banshee's layer... the impression of some semblance of her form and that spear lingering there but once more made hazy and indistinct by the ethereal properties possessed by the creature.

Letting his inherent sense of romance guide his curiosity Alessandro let himself be drawn the Southern way toward the treasures he had sighted and the wall of words written in the far back. Who knew what knowledge or artifacts lay in these tunnels?

The southern portal was as dark as the others with only the subtle glow of light giving enchantments that had endured since the sundering of the worlds and natural laws. It was lined in kind with yet more of the alcoves holding the bones and relics of the ancestors but there was the sudden hint of magic in the air here and that alone excited the curiosities of the young Godbound in his hunt for treasures worth keeping... Magic, after all, meant things beyond the typical bounds of mortal ken. The banshee, all the while, remained curiously absent though the suspicion that this was of fear of this intruder into it's lair certainly seemed to hold weight as he continued his explorations... Various small items and trinkets now giving off that same sensation of enchantment. Some deliberate and others simply because of a lingering saturation.

Alessandro decided this particular tunnel would have to do for tonight. Drawing forth his books and pencils he began to lay out the tombs measurements and layout with a trained precision. Within the hour he had traced entire passages of the word wall before finally settling on a random selection of the magical trinkets, the most powerful, for later examination. Once done he conjures what could be described as a stony wheelbarrow with many precise little holes for objects and carefully placed them in the niches. Knowing it grows late Alessandro gestures and punches a hole through the earth straight to the surface as the wheel barrow turns its own stone wheel to climb the gradual slope. With a satisfied smile Alessandro follows while neatly sealing the stone behind him all the way to the outside air.

Done for now with the tomb he and his ambulatory stone wheelbarrow return to the encampment and his tent.

The night passed with little event beyond a few strange dreams born of the feeling of being watched or considered from affair. The twisting of the subconscious conjuring up unpleasant memories of the Banshee that didn't happen from a factual perspective; flickers of indistinct shapes and places familiar yet distinctly alien and ancient in their cast, make, and the laws that they adhered to. All seeming to lead to the conclusion that such was a vision of the past through the fragmented lens of... something. The answer ultimately eluding the Godbound as he rose to the clatter of camp and the almost jovial shouting of both Mathias and Amelia cajoling tired men into the wakefulness that should be had as they greet the literal dawn.

Alessandro wakes promptly even before the camp begins to truly stir, a small benefit of his mastery of Time. Its with enthusiasm as he prepares for the day's march, grabbing a quick breakfast with the crew and taking down his own tent. Marengo nuzzled his shoulder as he brushed down his restless steed and his eyes wandered over the wakening encampment.

Spying Amelia he gives a cheerful smile and wave as he joins them, Marengo following along hoping for an apple.

"Beautiful morning! Good day, Amelia!"

"Morning! How'd the night treat you? Different than the fluff and comfort of home, eh?" the right hand woman of Mathius quipped with a grin as she glanced up from what was apparently a rather rude awakening for one of the men within the tents. The protests from the grown man implying a certain familiarity with the consequences of not waking up to the tune and schedule of his paying masters. That same good hearted joviality that seemed to sink into the bones of most of the company's dealings on anything minor or inconsequential. Mathias, meanwhile, was keeping his own men and contingent in line with sweeping directions and a slap upon the back that Alessandro knew for a fact could stagger the stoutest of men.