The Next Day

[Edgar]

Spoiler:

The following will be the train of events Edgar James Barlton goes through after being revived from his fiery demise. I will ask that any comments on my writings be put into spoilers such as this one. Thank you.

The Next Day

Darkness. It was so very dark; no light at all, really. Save for a pulsing violet artifact of unknown origin to my right in the corner. Where am I? I pondered to myself, then stopped. I. Who am I? I questioned myself, a tidbit of fear creeping up from inside. Taking another look around, I could tell I was at an odd angle to the floor, my weight being supported by an object of some sort. I most definitely wasn't standing. Nor was I lying. I was elevated as well, though not to a frightening extent. I craned my neck to peer over towards the unknown object again. What is it? A torture device? Some sort of magical concoction conjured up to kill me again? Bah! Not I! Not Edgar Barl-- I blinked a few times at the revelation, leaning back down against the hard surface beneath me.

"Edgar Barlton." I said aloud, testing the name with my new tongue. Splendid. A name. I thought.

I had to calm down. I had to focus; remember. What had happ-- the woman! I bolted upright, my spine giving a light pop in protest. The short miss. Patched me up, she did. Mhm. Who was she? Why, more importantly, who was she to me? I was determined to find out. Drawing myself from my current position was no easy task. With my bones so weak and brittle, I couldn't simply leap off and not expect to crumble to the floor in a heap of knit-together flesh, now could I? No. No, I had to think about this. Getting down was easy enough. I was not bound ( I discovered after testing the fact, waving my newly patched appendages about ) nor was I too weak to slide myself from the object holding me. Actually walking, however, was another story all together. How could I trust this woman with the mending of my wounds? Mending? No, no. Creating is a better term. She found a pile of damn bones. Mending, bah. Yes, I could trust her efforts. After all, why would someone do this for me simply to see me fall flat upon my rotten face?

Leaning forward, I extended my hands down as far towards my feet as they would go. After just passing my knees, my spine assured me that that was enough. I clasped the edges of the object holding me as I slowly slid down the slope until my feet kicked over a small object. I froze for an instant; listening. Hard. Wooden. Perhaps a stool. Yes, yes. A work stool. I was on a table. After another revelation, I slid further down until my feet touched the floor, or what seemed to be the floor anyhow. Who could know for certain? I twisted my body around, keeping my claws firmly grasping the table as I stood there, knees shaking terribly.

Splendid. I thought to myself after an unknown amount of time had passed; testing my balance. After satisfied, I rid myself of the table's support, standing on my own for the first time in what seemed centuries. Pathetic. Learning to walk like a newborn. Shaking my head, I managed to stumble about in the dark looking for anything to rid me of this infectious nothingness. Taking a survey of the room from my new vantage point, I noticed a seam of light running vertically up what I thought could only be a wall. Door. Aha! Enriched with a will to bask in the knowledge of the light beyond, I stumbled forwards, arms flailing madly about as I kept my balance in this odd body.

In minutes, I had crossed the room and was standing in front of the door. I set both claws upon the surface, pushing weakly against the bulk. Nothing. After a few more attempts, I gave a growl, dropping my shoulder and ramming myself against the door as hard as I could.

Light. Bright, bright light.

Well, not so bright. Compared to the room I had just exited it seemed overwhelming. I put a hand up to shield my empty eye sockets as I adjusted to the brightness. I was on the ground. A dirty ground. As I peered about I saw many robed people, cloaked by hoods drawn up over their shadowed faces. They walked about mindlessly, speaking in hushed tones to each other. Some wandered off in different directions, gesturing to a page in a book and beckoning their comrades to follow. Others simply stood, peering lifelessly at a wall as if they were waiting for it to do something. Anything.

I remember being here.

[Edgar]

Remembering

The library. How long it has been since I have wondered into one, it is hard to tell, but I do know that it is as wonderful as I can remember. Or not remember.

How I died is still a mystery to me, as is my past experiences up to this point in time. Seems a bit tragic, I suppose. Though, I'd prefer not to wallow in the pity of others, and will keep my current state to myself. Hopefully the library will aid my memory. Or make me even more perplexed. Time will tell.

I circled the enormous shelves I had found deeper into this... Where am I? No, no. Never mind that. For now, I am safe. I am quite sure of that. Circling these shelves of books, tomes and documents both new and old, I found myself lingering in the section of Arcane magics and history. After leaving this section and circling again, I found that this subject was one I must have been familiar with.

And so I read.

I scoured the section, taking up tome after tome to place on the small trolley I found to wheel back to the nearby tables. The subject did indeed fascinate me, and sparked a heap of images as well. Images of searing flames and jagged ice dazzled my mind's eye as I read of evocation magics. Oh, but not only this section sparked images.

I uncovered a small text from my pile labeled, "Abjuration: The Mage's Best Friend" and began to read.


Flames erupted from the sleek figure's hands, swirling magnificently towards me to simply be thwarted by a thin membrane of blue energy that slid in-between myself and my attacker. Again and again the flames came, but no harm became of me.

The abruptness of the vision caused me to drop the book I was reading, which tumbled to the stone floor underneath me. I used the Arcane, I can be sure. I thought, the violent vision still fresh in my mind. And I believe my killer used it as well.

I left the library, having spent two hours hovering over pages and pages of text. Some concepts seemed alien to me, while others I knew all too well. I was piecing together the puzzle of my life, but one substantially large piece was yet unfound. Who saved me? This was the most important question to me now. I had to find this little woman. Surely she would know who I was. Know my background. Know something. Yes, this was what I needed to do. But, it proved difficult. This place was vast with hallways that twisted and turned; that inclined and declined so sharply. My new body wasn't used to this treacherous landscape at all. My mind, however, began noticing items that it recognized. I was sure I had been here before and therefor was in the correct place.

Suddenly, I met the ground oh-so-swiftly as a ghoul carelessly bumped into my side as he barreled past. The casual pop or two was all I had heard, so I knew I could not have been in any severe condition, but the bastard could have at least helped a poor man up.

"You!" I bellowed after the figure, who turned to look back while running. The ghoul slowed only slightly, raising its rasping voice so I could hear, "Mistressss beckonsss...!" The monstrosity yelped before disappearing into a dark passageway.

I was in no condition to pursue the fleeing ghoul, so I simply laid there on the stone, thinking.

Mistress...

[Edgar]

A Necromancer

I shuffled along, my right foot turned up at a 90° angle to the floor due to my encounter with the ghoul. It was quite awkward to walk like this, but it had to do. I had to find out more.

I figured I would stumble upon this mysterious woman sooner or later if I checked in various rooms around the complex. Or whatever this is. I simply pushed the doors to a room close by open, having no real reason to be polite about anything at the time.

Redis had a series of books stacked up and around a desk, some open, most closed. A few stray sheets of paper were loosely about. A skeleton was at his master's side, awaiting orders. Redis himself was reading through a green colored tome, leaning over the table. His skeleton minion stared in my direction as I entered, then Redis spoke. "What is it?"

I peered about the room slowly, my hollow eyes taking in the dark attire of the room before my gaze settled on Redis when he spoke. Turning in his direction, I blinked at the man and skeleton, "Splendid." I rasped, "Someone who speaks."


"I am looking for someone." I said quickly after, peering at the odd couple.

Redis turned a page carefully, less it rips out. "I am not a guide." he rasped, running a finger down the lines of text.

This was to be expected, but I frowned a bit anyhow, looking to the text for a moment, "A small woman." I said, "Able to stitch together a dead corpse and bring him back to undeath."

A fair description of her. I thought, waiting.

The human's gaze hovered over a series of runes on the next page of his text, frowning under his mask. "If the woman is a gnome, then perhaps you seek Miss Frostshackle. Or Snack, whichever name you rather use." He narrowed his eyes at the book, tapping a symbol with his finger.

I gave a small nod, my gaze lingering on him for a moment before trying the name aloud, "Miss Frostshackle." I repeated. Familiar.

"I have another question."

Redis exhaled softly, reaching for a spare sheet of paper. He didn't answer me as he began to write down a list of runes with an ink pen.

"Have you heard the name Edgar Barlton before?" I inquired, stealing a gaze to the man's skeletal minion.

Redis kept on writing, shaking his head faintly. "Not that I can re-call."

I was discouraged by this, my gaze lowering to the ground. It was then that I spotted my broken ankle, frowning, "Can you fix this?" I asked lowly, gesturing to the appendage.

Redis sighed sharply. "Why must you pester me so?" He set down his pen, glaring in my direction. "If you are able to return the favor, I shall. Necromancy is not something to throw around, such as the Light."

Looking up, I answered truthfully, "I don't believe I have anything to offer, Human."

"Then you suppose I am some paladin who seeks to aid others out of good will?"

I thought carefully before uttering my next words, hoping I would chose correctly.

"... Perhaps you think highly enough of this Miss Frostshackle to repair one who she went out of her way to save?" I asked, a rasp escaping my throat.

Redis paused at the notion, raising an eyebrow in question, before nodding slowly. ".. Hrmm.. Very well. Allow me to see the damage."

Splendid I thought before inclining my head, "Thank you." I muttered before shuffling closer.

Redis frowned, leaning over to wrap his gloved hands around the foot. He simply snapped it back into place as dark emerald energies flowed from his fingers. It mended the bones and connected it with the rest of the body, allowing me to move it properly.



I settled my gaze upon the floor as he worked, smiling somewhat, "Tell me. Is amnesia common for Forsaken who are brought back from the clutch of death by your Necromancy?"

Redis glanced upward to me. "Most are brought as mindless minions, or enslaved souls. Miss Frostshackle is powerful enough to restore your will.. But I question why."

Giving a raspy chuckle, I responded, "I wish I knew." Before wiggling the skeletal toes on my right foot as I extended my hand to the Human, "A pleasure to have met you, Necromancer."

Redis stared at the hand for a moment, before returning the gesture with a weak handshake. "... I would say the same, but so far you seem to be one of Miss Frostshackle's play things." He turned back to the desk, and returned to drawing his runes.

I would have furrowed a brow at this notion, but I was lacking so I simply backed my way towards the door before slipping out silently.

Miss Frostshackle. Where are you?