Care and Feeding of a House Corpse [Solo]

[Lodekai]

“Lodekai!”

Calvin Belverouge was a successful necromancer. Ever since the completion of his Lodekai minion he had earned the genuine respect of his powerful Master and his fellow dark magi. He had a fine, dry cave deep in the Dagger Peaks in which to conduct his studies. It was a splendid place for a necromancer to live, actually. He had managed to acquire several pieces of fine furniture, even rugs and the odd tapestry to make it feel more like a home. In those quiet times after his studies when he could recline in his oaken chair and sip whatever wine his lesser minions had brought in, he felt a sort of dark peace. He loved the silence. It was truly the best gift his Master had ever given him. Away from the blather of everyday conversation. No loud screeching feminine voices complaining about the price of eggs or wheat. No intrusive male bragging or posturing. No drunken louts in his face insisting they were superior to him simply because they were from a different stock and breed. No women about demanding some sexual performance that they expected somehow to at once be both godly in execution and animal in nature. True, absolute silence in the womb of the earth. His minions tended to all his needs and his only concern was building an undead army for his Master. They truly were, almost perfect days.

“LOW - DEE - KYAAAAI!”

So how was it, he wondered, that he came to find himself in his current predicament? He was standing at the mouth of his cold cozy cave, flanked as it was by the kneeling corpses of all the adventures who’d dared intrude on his peace. He was dressed in his favored robes. They were old to be sure, but he had managed to place a successful enchantment on them that made them always keep the air around him at the perfect temperature. The edges were beginning to wear but they had molded to his form, the hood shaping itself perfectly to his long narrow head. Calvin was nothing if not a creature of comfort. So, again, he paused to ponder. Why was he waiving a pair of grey woolen breeches in the air and bellowing after an undead creature that was streaking down the mountainside in the nude?

“Get back here, you worthless corpse! How many times must I tell you? You have to wear clothes!”

Calvin bowed his head and ran the fingers of his free hand through his closely trimmed goatee. His facial hair was starting to pepper with grey the past few months, though he honestly wasn’t sure if it was his age catching up to him or the exertions his new familiar seemed to always be demanding of him. He closed his eyes and breathed a soft sigh. He was a patient man. He had waiting almost twenty years to receive the Grimore of Pyrovitaal that had allowed him to raise the creature Lodekai from the corpse of a Bladesinger. It had taken him nearly ten more years to decipher and gather all the needed reagents. Yet somehow, that creature Lodekai managed to burn through the necromancer’s entire stock of patience in a matter of mere moments with her antics.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He confided to his crow familiar, Zaz’thatal, as the creature fluttered down to settle on his shoulder. He raised his head and turned to look at the large black carrion bird, which stared back with unfathomable black eyes. “Will you hunt her down and get her dressed for me?”

“As my master desires.” The bird croaked in a harsh voice, flapping its wings and dancing outwards a bit on the necromancer’s shoulder. “Though some help with fingers would help this bird.”

“Of course, my sarcastic friend.” Calvin replied with the ghost of a smile. He snapped his fingers crisply and murmured a phrase in the demonic tongue. Two of the flanking skeletons rose to their feet and saluted the man. Their armor and gear hung off their naked bones and made them appear to be poorly made children’s dolls. “Assist Zaz’thatal and then return to your repose, my minions.”

“This way, this way!” The bird cawed, flapping its large wings and gliding back into the lair to retrieve the clothing Lodekai had left behind. The two skeletons saluted once more and marched forth wordlessly, feet rising and falling in perfect step. Unlike the creature Lodekai, such mere reanimations had no free will. They could not think, could not be inspired, could not learn, adjust or adapt. That was what made them so worthless as armies. A mere single human soldier could destroy countless such automatons. But if he could somehow find a way to so effortlessly create more like Lodekai... She was aware, could think and act beyond his orders. She truly behaved more like a familiar but instead of being a mere cat or crow, she was an undead. Hard to kill, loyal, unflinching in battle, creative in combat. She was the perfect dark soldier for his Master’s army. And the best part of all was, even if the creature did turn on them, it wasn’t like she was a mere dark elf. What set her apart from humanity was her creation, not her skin color. No nation would be foolish enough to take an army of undead, soulless abominations to their breast. He just needed to figure out how to create a second one in less than ten years…

[Lodekai]

“A naughty kitty when dead is naughty still, I see.” Zaz’thatal croaked as the bird soared in circles around the happily naked Lodekai.

“Zazzy!” The undead creature leapt off a jutting boulder and landed on all fours, sliding several feet in the loose dirt and scree before pausing in her headlong decent. Rather than rising to her full height as a human might have done, she simply rested one knee against the dirt for balance and remained crouching. She was breathing hard from her vertical dash but a wide grin covered her features and her dark eyes glittered playfully. Lodekai enjoyed being naked, truth be told. The rush of wind over her skin, the occasional brush of a leaf or scrape of a rock might have been comparable to the caress of a lover, had the creature ever felt such a thing. Without any specific cultural memories or knowledge she felt no shame at her nudity. Without a true gender, or any of the physical hallmarks that distinguished the genders, she had a child’s freedom to enjoy the lack of constrictive cloth.

“The angry master is angry with you, naughty kitty.” The crow admonished as it landed on a nearby branch, spreading and closing its wings a few times before settling still.

“Aww.” Lodekai sat down in the dirt, folding her legs beneath her and studying the crow familiar, cocking her head to match the angle of the bird. “What’d I do now?”

“You’re naked, you silly naked kitty.” The bird danced sideways along the branch on which it perched, as restless as always. “Clothes he tells you to wear and clothes you should wear, naughty kitty.”

“I’m not a cat anymore.” Lodekai protested, folding her arms across her mostly flat chest. “And I don’t remember being a cat.”

For once the bird settled down, pinning the little undead with an almost baleful stare. “Vix’zythyanna was no mere cat. A friend of mine was she, fellow familiar, and dearest friend too.”

Lodekai seemed to wilt at the words, her gaze falling to the ground and her shoulder slumping. “But I’m Lodekai… not Vixxy…”

Zaz’thatal hopped off the branch and waddled awkward towards the other familiar, pecking at her hand with its beak.

“Ow!” Lodekai jerked her hand back, holding it protectively with her other hand back near her shoulder. “Why’d you do that for?”

“Weak skin is all you’ve got, weak undead.” The crow answered harshly. “Not strong pelt to ward off strong blows.”

“So? I’m fast!” Lodekai answered somewhat sulkily, still cradling her bleeding hand. “They gotta hit me first!”

“Not so fast as to avoid the fast flash of beak.” Zaz’thatal replied, spreading its wings and soaring back into the braches as the steady clomp of skeletal feet grew loud enough to be noticed. “The master gave you coverings and the master’s gifts you’ll wear, ungrateful undead.”

“Okay, okay.” The undead creature rose with an indignant huff which, despite her insistence that she wasn’t a cat anymore, sounded very much like that of an irritated feline. The pair of undead puppets paused in front of the pair of familiars and extended their arms to offer their burdens. Lodekai grudgingly pulled off the grey woolen breeches and stepped into them before retrieving the matching tunic and pulling it over her head. That done she crossed her arms once more and glared at the crow. “Happy?”

“All of it was given and all of it you will wear.” The bird admonished, spreading its wings and pointing the tips at Lodekai like accusing fingers. The undead gave an angry sigh and adolescent glare before retrieving the knee-high brown boots and slipping them on one at a time. She spread her arms and gave the crow a questioning glare. The bird just shook its head again. Lodekia’s shoulders slumped again and she reached for the full length blue coat and only reluctantly slid her arms into it, shaking her arms to straighten out the three-quarters sleeves and giving a look of disgust as they just settled loosely around her upper arms. Finally she grabbed the blue cap and jammed it on her head, pulling down the front enough to shadow her eyes.

“Better now and better still.” The bird cawed with a chortling laughter. “Skeletons come and back to their repose the skeletons go!”

The two animated corpses saluted in perfect unison before executing dual about-faces and marching away once more. Lodekai, still looking very displease at having to dress, plopped back down in the dirt, folding her arms and legs in a childish sulk.

“Back we should be heading to the cave back.” The crow took wing and circled once, “Shame for you that you’ve got no wings, shame indeed.”

“Hey!” Lodekai leapt to her feet and took off up the trail at a dead run. “No fair! That’s cheating! Zazzy!”

[Lodekai]

“Belverouge. ”

Calvin Belverouge was so startled by the sudden booming voice that he dropped his goblet of wine. Unfortunately he’d been taking a drink at the time and the dark liquid spilled onto his goatee and dribbled down onto his robe. He quickly wiped both off and turned around, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. He didn’t even bother to look at the speaker, especially since he knew that it was merely the raven’s skull he kept on his mantle projecting his Master’s voice.

“I am most unworthy to hear your voice, my most powerful and merciful Master.” Calvin intoned sincerely, secretly hoping the communication wouldn’t be too long. He really didn’t think he knees could take it.

“Where is my army, worm?”

“I have already begun work on the second creature, most patient of Masters.” Calvin replied quickly, swaying lightly on his knees. He had always had some trouble keeping his balance in the awkward position.

“Why has the Lodekai creature not been sent to me?”

“If it would serve to please my ever powerful Master, I would like to have the Lodekai creature aid me in gathering the components I need to finish the second creature.” Calvin stared at his the rug beneath his feet as he spoke. It was a colorful rug, imported from Fallien. He really should redo the entire living cavern in Fallien interior style. True, importing those things cost a fortune but he wouldn’t be buying them. Now that he had a familiar that could travel by boat…

“Do not presume to try my patience, you worthless snake. You have three months to complete the second creature and have both of them sent to my palace. ”

“I will not disappoint you, my most gracious and - ” Calvin trailed off when he looked up and the huge raven skull’s eyes were lifeless and empty. Xem'zûnd had already severed the connection. The old necromancer rose to his feet with a groan, placing both hands on the small of his back and popping it with a groan. Groveling really was something to be left to younger men. He turned away from the mantle and all but fell into his favorite oaken chair. The bottle of wine still sat where he’d left it on the side table so he poured himself another goblet. Some days it simply was not worth it, being the acolyte of a powerful dark magi like Xem'zûnd. If he was just a lone little necromancer he could have just continued his studies alone in the silence of his cave without these ‘make an army’ demands. What was the lure of armies anyway? Still, he couldn’t really complain too much. He never would have found the Grimore on his own, and he never would have made his Lodekai.

The flap of crow’s wings disturbed his musings and he looked up from his wine goblet to see his familiar Zaz’thatal returning. The bird landed on the arm of the chair, ever-restless wings extending and folding a few times before it settled still. Calvin reached out to gently stroke the sleek black feathers. “Get Lodekai dressed?”

“Hard to convince that hard-headed undead.” The avian familiar complained, feathers ruffling. Calvin couldn’t repress a faint chuckle.

“They’re going to take her away from me.” Calvin said after a long pause, just absently stroking Zaz’thatal’s feathers. The bird cocked its head to a curious angle but the necromancer paused to take a long drink from his wine before sitting back with a bitter, resigned sigh. “He's going to take my Lodekai.”

[Lodekai]

“Zazzy cheated!” Lodekai exclaimed in a breathless voice as she pounded into the room. She came to a sudden halt in front of her master’s favored chair and rested her hands on her knees, panting. Calvin suppressed the fond twitch of his lips and made himself take another slow drink of his wine before speaking. Zaz'thatal seemed to take exception to the accusation but the necromancer smoothed down its ruffled feathers and the bird reluctantly settled back down wordlessly on its perch.

“You are not a living creature, you do not need to breathe.” Calvin pointed out calmly, his fingers still absently running along the crow’s feathers. Lodekai blinked a few times and stood up straight. Much to her master’s amusement, she inhaled a deep breath and tried to hold it. After a few seconds her eyes started to bulge a little and she exhaled in a hacking cough, doubling back over to rest her hands on her knees again. “It seems the muscle memory of the Bladesinger inside you insists that you should. Interesting”

“It hurts not to breathe.” Lodekai complained between panting breathes. “You sure I don’t have to?”

“Come with me, child.” The old necromancer rose and dusted off his robes before extending his arm to the crow. Zaz'thatal perched itself quite comfortably on the outstretched arm and the necromancer showed no signs that the familiar’s weight troubled him. He had taken several long strides towards the entrance to the living cavern before Lodekai managed to straighten and scurry after him.

“Where’r we going?” Lodekai asked with a childlike curiosity. “We going down to your lab?”

“No, child.” Calvin replied quietly, puzzling his creature with his suddenly reserved nature. He paused to take a torch from one of the wall scones before leading her deeper and downwards into his cavern home. As they descended, the air grew thick and heavy. Lodekai began to pant a little from the oppressive feel. Calvin spared her a concerned glance but didn’t stop. This deep, the man – or magic- made contributions to the cavern stopped and the walls became less smooth and the floor became littered with small rocks and debris. Each step, the place became less a home and more a simple cave. Even his laboratories were not this deep into the winding caverns. “What do you know of combat, Lodekai?”

“Um, combat?” The little undead glanced around nervously and hurried a few steps closer to the safety of her master. “I dunno.”

“Don’t worry, there are no dragons in here.” He lifted his forearm slightly and his avian familiar shifted to ride on his right shoulder as he passed the torch to that hand, resting the other along the shoulders of his undead familiar. “We’re going to my reception cavern.”

It only took a few more moments for the narrow tunnel to open out into a spacious, albeit empty, cavern. It was filled with corpses in various stages of decay. Lodekai had to blink as her eyes adjusted to the natural light. There was a small opening to the right and she barely make out a few waving tree trunks outside. In direct opposition to the fairly cozy nature of the upper caves, this room was bare of any comforts. The only things even in sight were a rather large uncomfortable looking black iron chair and two tables with odd, viscous fluids bubbling inside. The undead girl gave the room a disapproving look. “I’m glad you don’t live down here, master.”

“This cave opening is considerably lower than the real one.” Calvin explains as he stepped over the aging bodies and made his way to the chair. “My familiars alert me if anyone is approaching and I make my way down here. Would-be heroes charge in, thinking this is my home. That way my true research, not to mention my wine cellar, remain safely hidden.”

“Ooh.” Lodekai grinned at the cunning of her master and seemed to immediately lose the sense of fear that had sent her cowering against his robes. She began to poke through the scattered bodies, examining this or that shiny bit of finery.

“I will have to ask that you not loot the bodies.” Calvin said kindly as he sat aside the torch and dusted off the ugly iron chair before sitting down gingerly in it. “It scares the adventurers more if the corpses are left mostly intact.”

“I can’t even have this?” The little undead held up a rotting skeletal arm upon which was perched a golden armband worked with the sigil of a tiger and dragon locked in circular combat.

“No. Come here, child.” Zaz'thatal moved from its perch on the master’s shoulder to a niche that had been carved in the chair for the bird to rest. Calvin leaned forward as his creation approached. Lodekai showed no hesitation and she dropped down to her knees and looked up at her creator expectantly. He held up his right hand, letting the meager light glimmer off the golden ring he wore on the third finger. He pulled it off slowly and held it up for the undead to observe. The shiny object held her attention completely. “I was not always a necromancer, child. I was once a noble of a minor house in Salvar. This ring is all I have left to remind me of my old life. I pass it to you, Lodekai.”

The undead took the ring on both hands and turned it over and over, studying it. Calvin continued to explain as she did so. “It’s a signet ring, with a raised sigil meant to be used to set wax seals for important documents. The sigil on that ring, the sign of my old house, is that of a wolf, the grey wolves of the Salvar to be exact. I would like for you to wear it, that you may always remember me.”

Lodekai quickly slid the ring onto her left ring finger and it just as quickly slid right back off. She gave an almost panicked cry and pulled it out of the dust, using the edge of her shirt to polish it back to its previous shine. She looked heartbroken for a long moment before finally getting the idea to try wearing it on her middle finger. It was still slightly too large, she gave a crestfallen look. Finally she settled it on her index finger and it fit snugly. She proudly held her hand up to show her master the ring. Calvin simply couldn’t find it in himself to point out she was wearing it on the wrong hand.

“Now, find you a weapon – just a weapon- to use. We are going to see about teaching you to fight.”

[Lodekai]

There were plenty of weapons scattered about. Some in better shape than others. Most of them were at least rusted, however, and any with leather or wooden bits had long since rotted and fallen away. After pawing over most of the corpses, she finally found a sabre that was still relatively shiny. Turning back to face her master she held it up proudly. Calvin gave a soft chuckle and nodded his approval. Uttering a few dark phrases in the demonic tongue, he animated two of the better preserved corpses, holding up his hands to control them like marionettes on strings. The one his right lurched forward a few awkward steps and made a rough swipe at the smaller undead. Lodekai stepped back out of range of the slow attack and responded with a downward slice of her own that honestly wasn’t much smoother than the assault of the puppet. Calvin’s fingers moved and the animated corpse twisted out of the way, bringing up its own weapon to catch the blow.

“Come now.” Calvin rebuked in a soft tone. “Surely you can do better than that.”

“This is silly.” Lodekai protested, lowering her weapon. “These things aren’t going to hurt me.”

“It doesn’t seem you can hurt them either.” Calvin replied, a note of ice working its way into his tone. “You will take this seriously, Lodekai.”

The lurching puppet attacked again, slowly enough for Lodekai to see the blow coming and parry it. She moved to strike a riposte with her left hand and was half way through the attack before realizing that hand was empty. Her bare knuckles scraped against brittle bone but succeeded only in raising a small puff of dust. Knowing the reanimated corpses wouldn’t attack her when she wasn’t ready, she turned her back to her impromptu sparring partners and begin rifling through the bodies again. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for until she found it. A short hold-out dagger that was strapped to the side of corpse so new it still had some rotting meat on it. Seemingly unaffected by the dead man or his smell, she pulled the dagger free and held it up. It seemed to naturally want to swing around into a reverse grip so she let it.

“Interesting.” Calvin sat forward a little in his chair, his corpse puppets lurching forward a step each in response. “It seems that you do indeed retain some of the muscle memory of the Bladesinger that was sacrificed to make you. Come, attack again.”

Feeling much more confident with the second weapon, Lodekai didn’t seem to notice that she dropped into a fighter’s stance. Her feet moved on their own to settle shoulder width apart, her shoulders turning sideways to offer a smaller target profile and hunching up to protect her neck and jaw. The short blade in her left hand rested flat against her forearm at a natural waist height, that arm forward to shield the vital chest area while the long blade in her right hand cocked back at a much lower angle, the blade almost touching the floor. It almost seemed to be some sort of modified fencing stance. When the reanimated corpse made another jerking attack, the dagger flashed out to deflect the blow while the sabre rose in an awkward arc that severed the brittle spine of the skeleton. The feet fell to the floor with a rattle but the upper body remained hanging as if suspended on strings. It had been a crude, unwieldy attack. A human opponent could have countered it easily, but it did seem to show some knowledge of sword fighting. If he could just get her to actually fight in earnest.

“Excellent. Now, again. Both this time.” Calvin made a few gestures with his right hand and the skeleton’s feet rose to reconnect with the upper body. Both of his puppets advanced in slow shuffling steps, striking one after the other. The sabre came up to catch the first and the dagger swept out to deflect the second. She then dropped to one knee and swept the feet from beneath both skeletons with a low spinning kick. Their feet were pulled from the ground by the kick, but they didn’t fall. The feet tangled and clacked together like wind chimes before settling back against the ground. Lodekai gave a growl of annoyance and rolled out of the way as they attacked once more, slow downward chops. Both missed by a mile and she capitalized. She spun towards them, her right blade cutting the head from one as her momentum carried her around to plunge the dagger into the chest of the other. Two excellent ways to kill humans but the undead weren’t even fazed by the attacks.

“This is stupid.” Lodekai said sulkily as she stepped back with an angry growl, letting her weapons fall to her side. “I won’t learn to fight like this.”

“Oh? Then let’s see if we can find you a more worthy opponent.” Calvin shook his hands and as if the strings had been cut, both skeletons fell to the floor in piles of useless bones. He rose from his chair and reached into the deep pockets of his robe to pull out a pouch. From the pouch he produced several dried leaves, a pressed flower blossom, the corpse of some small woodland creature, some unidentifiable green blob that was still juicy and two gold coins. He placed them in a small pile and reached in his robe for a second pouch. This one contained only some dark reflective powder that he poured in a circle around the pile of reagents. Putting both pouches away, he waved his hands over the strange assortment of objects and muttered hard and guttural phrases in Demonic that sent shivers up Lodekai’s spine. At last he stepped away and produced a match, which he struck it against the iron chair and cast it onto the pile. The powder caught almost instantly and flames rose impossibly high, reaching the ceiling before subsiding. When the smoke cleared the items were gone and in its place stood a demon of small stature. It was roughly two inches shorter than Lodekai, with a long and wickedly spiked prehensile tail and curved horns that made a rather large circle before pointing forward once more, their tips glittering faintly with some natural and deadly poison. Its skin was a sickly and charred green that bordered on grey and its eyes pulsed a sickly, disaeased yellow. It took step forward, impossibly sleek muscles working beneath the hideous skin. It looked at Calvin for a long moment before gracefully flowing to a kneeling position.

“What does the master command?”

Calvin looked at the demon he had summoned for a long moment before raising his eyes to look over the beast at his Lodekai creation. His face never changed as he ordered simply. “Kill her.”

[Lodekai]

The demon rose slowly and turned to look at her, pus-yellow eyes sizing her up coldly. For some reason Lodekai found herself expecting the demon to begin insulting her. It didn’t, however, but simply approached slowly. Her dagger came up sharply in a more aggressive posture but her hand was shaking faintly. The demon didn’t match her stance but faced her squarely, its long barbed tail lashing slowly behind it like that of an agitated feline. The little undead flinched when the demon tilted its head, a drop of virulent poison falling from its horns to the ground with a soft sizzle. It arched its fingers before curling them into a fist, the joints popping audibly. Lodekai licked her lips and shifted the dagger once more, leaning away from the demon and holding her defensive stance. Calvin couldn’t help but be reminded of an old text on warfare he had once read. “Defense implies lack. Attack implies abundance.” It was hard to put a finger on exactly what Lodekai lacked at the moment. Courage? Confidence? The will to act? Whatever it was, she was going to have to find it before she would ever be ready to serve in Xem’zûnd’s army. Not that he was worried about how well she would serve the Darkest Lord, but more that she would survive the first encounter.

It didn’t look like she would last even that long. The demon moved with a grace that defied its hideous form, lashing out with a kick that landed on the side of her knee with a sickening crunch. With the side of her left knee facing forward, it had been left wide open to such a crude attack. She fell to her knees with a started cry, dropping her weapons as she landed on her hands and knees. The demon gave a disdainful toss of its head and turned, a wide swipe of its tail aimed for the head of the diminutive undead. Calvin took a step forward to interfere, just hoping he could call the demon off in time. He had been hoping to goad her into fighting but it looked like he was just going to get his little creation killed.

Before he could open his mouth, however, Lodekai raised her left arm up to cover her head. The center of the three slender, curved spikes buried itself deeply into her forearm, just above her elbow, and wedged there. The little undead didn’t cry out. For a moment she didn’t even seem to move at all, the only indication that she was still alive was the sweat that dotted her skin. The demon gave a strange snuffling sound of annoyance and tried to pull its tail free but it seemed to be binding in between the two bones of Lodekai’s arm. That earned a soft, anguished cry from the undead girl. Seemingly roused from whatever stupor she’d fallen into, she raised her right arm and tilted her palm back to an almost unnatural angle. Much to Calvin’s surprise the skin just below her wrist seemed to part and thin black claw about the size of her thumb was unsheathed. She brought it up and set it against the curve of the demon’s tail and jerked sharply, slicing off the tip. The demon howled in pain as Lodekai staggered to her feet, pulling out the spike still lodged in her arm. The jolt of pain made her collapse to one knee again and he saw tears escape the corner of her eye. Calvin thought once more to call off the demon but something told him that the fight between the two of them was personal now.

Robbed of one of its natural weapons, the demon gave an enraged roar. The prematurely-ending tail lashed more angrily than before, spraying sickly yellowish-green blood all over the cave floor and walls, spattering onto the scattered corpses and adding to the already overpowering stench of death in the cave. Calvin did have to admit that it added to the air of certain-death-to-morals that he’d been trying to cultivate in the cavern.

Breathing hard, Lodekai retrieved the battered sabre and struggled to her feet, her left arm clutched protectively to her chest. There was no sign of the claw she’d sprung a moment earlier. She took up a similar stance to the one she’d adopted earlier, except her right side was facing forward and she wasn’t completely turned sideways, covering some of the weakness to her knee. The demon circled her slowly and she kept facing it; limping a little as she shifted each time to match its angle. The beast wanted the kill to be up-close and ugly now. It lowered its head and charged, poison-coated horns leading. The short reach of the curved horns did give Lodekai a small advantage of reach. Seeing this small desperate opportunity, she took it as best she could. Throwing herself backwards, she lashed out with her sword, aiming at the monster’s face. More by blind luck than skill she managed to connect, cutting a small gash across the demon’s forehead. Although it didn’t cause much damage it did have the side effect of pouring putrid blood into the creature’s eyes. It stumbled a few steps, not catching itself as it failed to hit anything with its horns. Laying on her back where she’d landed unceremoniously, Lodekai stabbed at the only thing in reach, the demon’s foot.

The demon snarled in pain as two of its larger taloned toes rolled away without owners. The creature lost its balance completely and fell onto its face. Lodekai was on top of it in an instant, slashing and stabbing indiscriminately. She managed to land perhaps four or five unanswered strokes of her sword before the demon rallied itself and threw her off its back, rolling onto one knee and slashing out with the curved talons on the ends of its fingers. Lodekai wasn’t able to get away fast enough and four identical red lines blossomed across her tunic. They weren’t deep but they stung and bled freely. Realizing the danger close combat posed, the little undead quickly rolled away and lurched to her feet, holding out a wavering sabre as if it alone could protect her.

Calvin risked turning away from the fight for a moment to retreat to his iron chair, sitting down silently and steeping his fingers. It was probably the most trouble he’d ever seen anyone have with dispatching a simple garden gremlin but she was starting to show real potential. It would require training though. Serious training with a real master. He sat back and began slowly stroking his goatee as a plan slowly formed in his mind. Perhaps his little creation might yet be saved.

This time when demon charged, horns first, Lodekai had a better plan. Allowing her injured knee to buckle, she dropped to one knee. Bracing the pommel of the sword against her upraised good right knee she pointed the blade at the demon’s heart and allowed his own momentum to carry it onto the blade. The force of the impact bowled the petite undead onto her backside but it also lodged the sabre deep into the chest of the demon. The monster gave a choked snarl that was cut off abruptly. The demon vanished in a gout of flame as it was sent back to whatever hell it was conjured from. The sabre clattered to the cavern floor, bent and warped from the heat of the flames.

Calvin began to clap slowly from his great black iron chair. Lodekai rolled over onto her stomach and hopped onto her hands and knees, eyes never leaving the spot where the demon had vanished. When it became clear that the creature really was gone, the undead rose to her feet and began limping slowly towards her master’s chair. Her motions were oddly jerky and she was still breathing and sweating heavily. She pulled off the jacket and cast it aside. Her shirt was soaked with sweat down the back and blood down the front. Her eyes were shinning an unusually bright ruby red. Calvin was caught completely off guard when she leapt onto his chair like some kind of wild thing, a snarl twisting her features as her hands went for his throat.

Even startled he was more than a match for anything he’d ever created. Calvin intercepted the hands reaching for him and forced them away. He turned her palms upwards to study the claws that were unsheathed beneath both wrists. It seemed that they had been exposed from small protective pouches that were nestled inside each forearm, just below the vein cluster of the wrist. The left one seemed a little off center and reacted sluggishly, probably due to the muscle damage to that arm. What really captured the necromancer’s attention; however, were the suckers that were nestled almost unseen at the base of each claw. They bore an uncanny resemblance to the ones that were found at the base of the thorns of the Ruilserk. It seemed she’d inherited more than a single-minded nature from the blood vine.

Lodekai uttered an unnaturally guttural snarl and struggled in his grip. Calvin gave a soft sigh of annoyance as Zaz’thatal rose from its perch with a startled caw.

“You are my creation, Lodekai, and you will obey my will. Yield, Lodekai. Yield to your master!” It wasn’t until Calvin repeated the words in the ever-harsh Demonic tongue that the little undead’s eyes cleared and she stopped struggling. Her cessation was so sudden that she fell backwards off the chair and landed once more ungracefully on her rear. She ran her good hand through her hair, obviously stunned and disoriented.

“So, you were holding out on me.” Calvin teased good-naturedly. “I found no evidence of those little claws of yours when I checked you over.”

“I… I…” Lodekai stammered, started to rise to her feet but fell back to her knees when pain shot down her left leg.

“And a blood craze?” Calvin shook his head and motioned for Zaz’thatal to perch on his arm. “I wouldn’t have thought you a berserker, Lodekai, but it suits you I think.”

The diminutive undead didn’t even try to respond this time but rather turned her back to her master and ran out of the cave as quickly as her bad leg would take her. Calvin stood but could only watch in open-mouthed surprise. After a moment he turned to look at his crow familiar.

“Was it something I said?”

“Fetch I’ll go and fetch our errant undead.” Zaz’thatal replied, taking wing to follow its fellow familiar. He was stopped by a wave of his master’s hand.

“No, I’ll go after her myself.” Zaz’thatal wanted to argue for its master’s safety but to all familiars, their master’s word is law. So the crow chose to settle on its master’s shoulder as the necromancer personally set foot outside his home cavern for the first time in almost thirty years.

[Lodekai]

The world was heat and the stench of her own sweat. Air burned like fire in her lungs but despite what her master had told her, she kept breathing raggedly. Pain shot down her left leg with every step until she felt that the bones might simply splinter under her weight like so much dry wood. Yet still she staggered away in an odd, loping hop of a lame beast. Pushed onwards by blind panic. She had to get away. Get away. First rule of the familiar. Obey your master in all things. For this do you exist. Something deeper than memory insisted this were true. Had she been human she might have entertained the thought that it was a truth seared into her very soul. But she possessed no such thing.

Branches slapped at her as she hobbled by, rocks stabbed at her feet through the shoddy boots. Spots started to dance across her vision, small fuzzy motes of red that exploded in wet plops and dripped from the corners of her eyes in bloody tears. Her limbs began to tremble weakly and then simply gave out. She collapsed into a sobbing heap, covering her face with both hands. Her shoulders shook with the force of her tears and it seemed an eternity before they finally eased.

Still snuffling, she raised her head. Her hands and face were coated with smeared blood and tears. Her clothes were stained with demon’s blood. She stank of decay. Choking back a fresh spring of tears, she dragged her battered body down the crooked slope of the mountain to the small, chillingly cold run-off brook that lazily circled her master’s peak as it descended. Yet, even as she extended her hands to wash the blood from them, she found she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to discard her own ruin and humiliation into the crystal clear water. It seemed somehow to be a sacrilege. That thought brought a bitter chuckle.

So she lay there, alone and fading. Dying wasn’t the right term for it, she was already a dead creature. She would simply cease to be, whatever dark magic that held her form together giving out. That thing that made her more than another of her master’s reanimated skeletons fleeing. She’d proven herself unworthy anyway. He could just destroy her and make another easy enough. A better one. One that wouldn’t turn on him in a single moment’s weakness. Such was the way of the familiar.

…

… but was that all she was? Something inside her rebelled at the thought of just giving up so easily. She was more than just the sum of her parts, more than just another familiar. To give in and allow the end to come was cowardice. Was that the only testament she wanted to her short life? A single, staggering act of cowardice?

Her momentary swell of heroism was cut short by a low and guttural growl. On some animal instinct, Lodekai remained perfectly still. A lone mangy wolf, wandering through forests much too high in altitude to support his kind, approached with his tongue lolling freely. Following the scent of blood and death that promised an easy, if slightly rotten, meal. The undead closed her eyes tightly and remained unmoving. The wolf stopped a few feet from the motionless corpse, sniffing the air. It licked its chops and gave a soft yip that might have been approval or victory. Closing the last few steps eagerly, it moved for the already exposed meat, nosing at her wounded forearm. Just as it began to nip at the revealed muscle, Lodekai’s right hand shot out and grasped a handful of fur at its neck. The wolf howled in surprise and tried to back away. Lodekai felt a sickeningly slick sensation just below her wrist as the claw unsheathed and dug to the quick in the beast’s flesh.

The wolf whined in pain and struggled to throw off this unsuspected attacker. Lodekai answered with a growl of her own and twisted her hips, throwing one leg over the back of the beast. Her weight knocked the creature onto its side and she quickly wrapped her legs around its abdomen, just above its hind legs. It kicked futilely and tried to claw at the creature that clung to it, but it was facing the wrong way. Its front paws flailed blindly backwards but only managed to paw at the undead’s hair. Her prey secured, Lodekai grasped a second handful of fur with her left hand, a small twinge of pain spiking down her forearm as the claw unsheathed and set itself into the wolf’s flesh. A few seconds’ solid contact with the warm skin awoke the Ruilserk suckers and they began their work, burrowing past fur and skin and muscle to reach the wildly pounding jugular veins.

Only the gently bubble of the mountain brook accompanied the pained whimpers and whines of the dying wolf as Lodekai made her first kill. And claimed her first meal, one scavenger feeding upon another.

[Lodekai]

“Would it not be wise to hurry, wise master?” Zaz’thatal asked anxiously, wings rising and settling uneasily along its shoulders.

“Hm? Oh.” Calvin favored his crow familiar with an indulgent smile and reached back to smooth its black feathers. He’d forgotten for a moment that the two familiars still shared a low level telepathic bond, as did all his familiars in order to better serve his will. “Don’t worry, her wounds aren’t fatal. It is simply the most pain she’s felt in her short life and she can’t imagine that even dying could hurt worse. She will recover.”

The crow fell silent, wings settling once more. Zaz’thatal still worried for the younger familiar but trusted its master implicitly. Calvin, for his part, was enjoying his little walk. True, he hated being out of doors but one nature walk in thirty years could be very refreshing. The air was crisp and cool and as the necromancer took a deep breath he felt a faint nip of the cold in his lungs. Though it was nothing the enchantment on his robe couldn’t overcome. Even if he didn’t have the enchanted robes he was raised on Salvar, a short journey over the mountains as the crow flies, and he was used to the snowy weather. The snowfall was fairly fresh and the sun was just beginning to set, casting the whole world in a reflected reddish-orange glow. Quite beautiful.

Calvin paused as he reached a rocky outcropping, resting one hand on the chilly rock. For one brief moment he almost felt as if he were a boy again, a spoiled noble brat raised in a small village where his father had been the law. A big fish in a small pond. That foolish boy had believed that the fiefdom his father ruled had been the extent of the world. How things did change. The aching cold from the rock worked its way along arthritic fingers, reminding him that he was an old man now. And one of his creations needed him. Unlike his father, he took care of all that was his.

Even he hadn’t been able to track the unholy aura given off by Lodekai, she would have been easy enough to find. In her haste she had left a trail of blood and awkward footprints. Not that there were many other two-legged creatures this high up in the peaks to leave footprints in the first place. He found the place where she had collapsed and followed the wide trail of disturbed snow and diluted blood until he reached the stream bank. There he found the corpse of the dead wolf, still warm. Puzzled by creature, he knelt gently turned it over. Zaz’thatal abandoned his shoulder but remained silent, soaring over to land silently on a tree branch to observe its master. Calvin studied the beast in troubled silence. Sure, there were the Dur'Taigen of the Red Forest that wandered up into the peaks from time to time, but this appeared to be a simple grey wolf. Surely the beast hadn’t migrated all the way from Salvar. He ran his fingers through the fur of the beast. The kill had been clean and the pelt was unharmed. Seemed a shame to waste.

“Zaz’thatal.” Calvin spoke quietly, rising to his feet. His eyes never left the corpse of the wolf as he spoke. “Go back to the cave a fetch a few of the goblins to skin this creature. I want the pelt preserved.”

For once the chatty crow remained silent, perhaps sensing the pensive mood of its master. It acknowledged its order with a simple nod of its head and flew away, rising above the tree line to head straight for the mouth of their home cavern. Turning away from the animal’s corpse, he glanced around for more tracks from his errant undead. He could feel that she had moved further downstream but he could see no tracks. A faint smile touched his lips. The canny little girl had moved in the stream, so she couldn’t be tracked. Not eager to get his slippers wet, Calvin contented himself with merely following the stream back until he located his lost charge.

Just where the stream fell over a small waterfall, a thin spike of rock jutted out over the low cliff. Perched on the edge was a very miserable looking Lodekai. Calvin couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her sitting with her knees hugged to her chest like a lost child. It didn’t take long for her to notice his approach. She scrambled off her perch and onto solid ground before falling to her knees in the snow.

“Master, I’ve failed you.” Her voice was so small and quiet he almost couldn’t hear her. “I’m sorry.”

He noted with a father’s sense of approval that after her fight with the wolf she’d had sense enough to bind her wounds. The edge of her grey shirt was ripped free and she’d used the strips to bind her arm and he noticed the edge of a healing leaf she’d gathered from the forest peeking out from the edge of the bindings. The cuts on her chest appeared to be covered with some grey paste, unless he’d missed his guess it was the clotting compound he’d taught her to make. He’d been very strict in his teachings about how to tend to her wounds. She would always have to resort to salves and herbs, as no healing magic would ever work on her undead body.

“You have not failed me, child.” He replied kindly, reaching down to lift her chin with one hand. She looked up at him, dark eyes glassy with unshed tears. “What you are feeling is your first taste of true fear but you must not let it overcome you.”

“Yes, master.” Lodekai answered dutifully, though he knew she had no idea how to go about accomplishing such a feat. Not that he expected her to be able to do such a thing on her own.

“Come back with me to the cavern, we must prepare you for your journey.”

Lodekai scrambled to her feet and followed after him without a second thought as he turned back towards the cavern. “Are you sending me away, master?”

“Yes.” Calvin answered and then added firmly. “But not because you have disappointed me. Rather just the opposite. The time has come for you to begin your real training. Training I cannot give you.”

He undead creation trailed after him like a faithful hunting hound, looking troubled by the thought of leaving her master. “What is there that the master cannot teach me?”

Calvin smiled and slowed his steps until she caught up with him, then rested a hand lightly on her shoulder so that she would have to walk by side with him. “The way of the sword, my child. I am going to send you to a man who can teach you to become a warrior.”

[Lodekai]

“I don’t need a nanny.” The little undead sulked as she picked her way down the rocky slopes of the mountain.

“Naïve little undead will die again if so naïve you stay.” Chided Zaz’thatal.

Lodekai tugged on the strap of the satchel that crossed her chest, lowering her head and arching her shoulders like some turtle retreating into its shell. “I told mas- ow!”

She was interrupted by the impact of the bird familiar’s beak on her shoulder. She shook her shoulders violently, dislodging the bird. Zaz’thatal cawed angrily and hovered a few feet away, wings beating harshly at the air.

“You must not name the master as your master while you travel the land of men!” The crow rebuked in a shrill, annoyed tone. Lodekai simply glared at it for a long moment before resuming her decent. When Zaz’thatal tried to return to its perch on her shoulder, the little undead gave in to the childish impulse towards passive aggressive behavior and kept shifting her shoulders to prevent him from landing on either.

“Silly undead, stop being so silly.” The familiar tried to keep its previous angry tone but sounded more plaintive than anything.

“If I have stop calling mas- daddy my master, then you have to stop calling me an undead!” Lodekai said sulkily, glaring at the crow from the corner of her eyes.

“Fine.” Zaz’thatal agreed with a huff as it settled back on the girl’s shoulder. “Well and fine. For I’ve not a mind to fly all the way to the world men, walking is fine for a silly girl like you but my wings are not so strong as to fly so far at this crawling pace.”

“The pace has nothing to do with.” Lodekai accused playfully, her cheerful mood already returning. “You’re just out of shape. Been m-daddy’s favorite for too long. You haven’t had to do any real work in decades.”

“Speak not of things you know not, girl.” The crow familiar arches its wings and tried to look properly important and imposing but the little undead would have none of it and laughed at her traveling companion. What at first seemed a rather cold parting and hurtful dismissal from her master’s presence was quickly becoming a grand adventure to the young undead familiar.

///

Dearest and most astute of masters, may you live in darkness forever;

I have, upon further study, shifted the direction of my research. I have placed on hold the project of creating the second Lodekai minion to further test the first. It is my belief that the process of creating this brand of minions is too involved for mass production. Any shortcuts in the process result in incomplete or useless ghouls. And, as my most knowledgeable master is well aware, we have enough of those. It is however, my belief that this type of undead familiar could play a more pivotal role as something that is in far greater demand. I have, upon further researched, found that the Lodekai minion has an almost human capacity to learn and adapt. I believe that a small number of well trained Lodekai minions could serve as competent commanders to lead your armies into battle. Unhesitant, unfailingly loyal, unflinching in their duties, lacking human decency and morals and commanding an intellect that rivals that of a free-minded human or elf. I have dispatched the original Lodekai to a weapon master I am well acquainted with, in hopes that the training will bring out the potential of the Lodekai creature. I havr ordered one of my oldest and most trusted crow familiars to accompany the Lodekai creature and report to me any changes in the condition or behavior of the creature. I do realize that this is most presumptuous on my part and it is my hope that the eternally merciful and shrewdest of masters will forgive this lowly minion for such presumption. However it is my dearest and fondest hope to present to you in a short time an unparalleled undead leader, a centurion if you will, to lead your armies.

Eagerly awaiting the approval of the most powerful and inscrutable of masters,
Calvin Belverouge, Necromancer.

///

Calvin rolled up the scroll and summoned a rat demon to carry the parchment along minuscule tunnel that connected his mountain study to the closest outpost under the command of his master, Xem'zûnd. Once the demon was gone, the aging necromancer rested his head in his hands and prayed to whatever gods still listened to the defiled. Lodekai had become so much more than a simple familiar to him. He could not, would not allow anyone – even Xem'zûnd- to so callously destroy her. Nor could he allow his master to cheapen her life by making thousands more exactly like her. There was only one Lodekai. Calvin alone knew the secret of creating a second exactly like her and he would guard that knowledge with his life. There would be more minions, certainly, but he would make sure they were all unique. He would make sure Lodekai remained unique.

A part of him ached at the way he had sent his child-familiar away. He had not even personally sent her on her way. He’d simply given Zaz’thatal orders to take some gold and basic supplies from the storage caverns and take the girl away. He hadn’t even told her goodbye. He still believed it was for the best. He ran a hand through his goatee, wiping away the accumulated tears. Even Lodekai could not know how attached he had become to the girl, for in her childish naivety she might betray him. He would not allow her to carry the burden of his death. Not yet, she was still so young, so fragile. He hoped that he was doing the right thing in sending her to the weapon master. War would reach her sooner or later and the best he could do was to equip her to be victorious.

[Lodekai]

An excerpt from the private research notes of Calvin Belverouge:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Lodekai is amazing. She’s been alive for all of six months and she already exhibits all of the coordination, thought processes, reasoning skills and physical abilities of a human around the age of fifteen. She can laugh. She can cry. She tells bad jokes. She accused Zaz’thatal of cheating in some sort of impromptu race back to my study. It truly is like having a child. I have no idea how my father was so blasé about my existence. I am both thrilled and humbled to have brought such a creature into this world. Is it truly so different when done through carnal means? Does waiting months on end while your woman swells up like a melon truly make things any different than creating her with my own two hands? I am both Lodekai’s father and mother. No, I find myself considering Vix’zythyanna to be the child’s mother. She is not Vix’zythyanna. Though she does exhibit some character traits, they are no more than that inherited on average from one’s parents. Even I share some handful of my father’s tendencies.

She tried to kill me today. I have never been so proud. There was a savage lust and power in her eyes and I swear that I saw the flames of hatred burning brightly there. Truly, she is almost human. She has the capacity in her to hate. That makes her the most perfect creation I could ever aspire to create in my lifetime. I feel, perhaps, a bit of a deity’s egomania. For I have seen what I have made and it is good. I have sent her away for training. If she withstands these trials and grows as I know that she can, she will return to me not simply a corpse familiar. No, she will return to me a daemon warrior in her own right. A creature with free will and yet with loyalty. She could perhaps even, deliver unto me the things that I have never been strong enough to reach out and take with my two hands. She will be the merciless warrior that this frail body prevents me from becoming. She is a dream come true for an old man like me.

Lest I forget, I will record here the physical and psychological changes I observed in her today.

Ruilserk Claws: My little undead has the most extraordinary physiological feature, that I believe to be unique to her. About two inches below each wrist is nestled a small storage sac. Inside is a claw about the size of the girl’s thumb, probably only two inches or so in total length. They are wickedly curved and from what I observed they are bladed along the inside curve and sharply pointed on the ends. It is my hypothesis that these claws are controlled by thin neuromuscular fiber bundles that run along the inside of the gap in the radius of each arm. It seems that damage to the muscular structure of the arm impedes control of the claw. Judging by the effort required to sever the tail of the gremlin, I would estimate the strength and hardness of the claws to be somewhere between iron and steel, though inferring from studies of similar claws in other creatures it will most likely harden as she ages. My initial studies of her arms showed no sign of these particular natural weapons. Though I have not had a chance to study her at length since this discovery, my initial hypothesis would be that there is a small slit in the skin to allow the claws to extend, one flap of skin is folded over the base and a bloodless membrane covers the entrance. This membrane is sliced away by the claw and heals over, much like a scab, after the claw retracts. This line of reasoning would suggest that the more the claws are used the thicker and more scar-like in appearance and texture it will become. If the claws are overused before their relative strength increases through time, she will lose the use of them until the growth cycle evens out. However, the true marvel of these claws is the Ruilserk suckers. It seems they are exactly transplanted from the vine. If given time to burrow they will seek out blood veins and transfer the blood to Lodekai. Where the blood is then sent or how it is processed I do not know. If a theory must be predisposed, I would hazard to say that nestled deeper inside the radius is a small sac or “stomach” to filter any impurities and inject the useful part of the stolen blood, most likely the plasma, into her own bloodstream.

Blood Craze: It is in the nature of all things unliving to crave something of the life of other things. She has, up until this point, existed on the normal fair of human food. Though she does exhibit an odd aversion to fruit. However, today I observed her drain the blood of a wolf. I also observed a crazed hatred in her eyes after her defeat of the gremlin. It seemed to be some form of berserking, however she retained the reasoning skills to understand that I was the one who summoned the demon and that the battle would not be over until I was no longer alive to summon any more demons. I did not notice in her any acceleration of learning or growth nor any increase in power beyond what a human exhibits during a heightened period of adrenal activity. Even after ingesting the blood of the wolf it seemed to simply make her more clear-minded, as her wounds remained with no apparent boost in recovery. I think this is due to her abilities being only in their infant stages. I think that what I observed was a survival mechanism. Trigged in this case by intense pain. I would hypothesize that it could also be triggered by such thing as intense hunger, anger or desperation. Not simple fear, but the all consuming fear of a cornered animal. In all cases it is my belief that the consumption of blood through the suckers at the base of her claws could substitute for a day’s worth of meals. Perhaps, with maturity, she will find a way to convert it into something more beneficial than simple sustenance. The craze itself, I believe, is simply an imperative to feed. Her survival instinct takes precedence over her developed personality and she returns to something much more primal until her life, or unlife, is no longer in jeopardy.

Also, a few simple notes lest they slip my mind.

Fighting: Lodekai showed vague knowledge of combat. The echo of the training the Bladesinger received. However, she executes this knowledge with the gangly uncertainly of a teen.

First Aid: Due to her undead nature, no holy magic will ever be able to assist her in rapid recovery. In all likelihood if used on her in a weakened state they will cause her body to disintegrate. Though I have no method to test this hypothesis it is my belief that nature or world based healing will have minimal affects, perhaps only keeping her from slipping into oblivion. It would, I believe, depend a great deal on the deity or power source invoked. The more earth based the more effective, the more the power is derived from faith the less useful it would become to her. I was pleased, however, to note that she had paid attention to my instructions on the making of a clotting compound and the proper way to dress open wounds.

… I will miss her.

~CalBel

Okay, so I don’t really see this stuff as ‘spoils’ per say, more like character revelations. If you have any issues at all with these character traits send me a PM and I’ll edit accordingly.

Claws: 2 inches long, slightly stronger than iron. Little suckers on the base suck blood. The suckers need solid, uninterrupted contact for almost 60 full seconds before they can begin to work. So we’re talking fully restrained or unconscious character. If a PC has these attached to them, all they gotta do at lvl 0 is sneeze and it will break the hold and reset the timer. If a mod ever, ever feels that these buggers are being over used, just attach to the judgment in place of like “your sword breaks from blocking blows of a stronger metal” or whatever just add the line “the membrane on the claws has become too thick for the claws to cut, they are unusable for x amount of time”. Also note because of their placement (inner forearm) these aren't really slashy weapon claws, these are more like hold and anchor for the sucking of blood kind of claws. They will get stronger as she levels/ages. Mostly so they can start poking through metals and stuff. Right now they can only pierce pieces of armor that a say, an iron dagger could. At this point, the claws can only come out while in a state of Blood Craze, because she is not consciously aware of their existence and has no active knowledge of how to manipulate them.

Blood Craze: This is a lead-in to a zerking ability. For now, all it does is make her really hungry, really pissed and acts like an adrenaline spike in normal humans. This ability exists in place of adrenaline, her body does not produce it. She doesn’t get the benefit of that burst of strength humans get when scared or whatever. This is what she has instead and she has to be in what she believes to be dire straights for it to kick in. The Blood Craze is denoted by a change in eye color from maroon to ruby and is characterized by extensive sweating. While in a state of Blood Craze she can use the suckers on her claws to drain blood. At level 0 this blood only has the effect of of recovering energy and awareness. Sorta like a Red Bull for zombies.

///

These other two are actually limiters, so yay I’m making my character weaker after a quest!

Fighting: I realized I didn’t explicitly say her combat abilities. She sorta remembers how the Bladesinger was trained. Favors sword and dagger dual weapon style. Has the proficient of any 15 year old boy who has played with wooden swords all his childhood.

First Aid: Lodekai cannot be healed by holy magics. In fact they will kill her, instantly. The more earth-based healing stuff might keep her from dying. If it’s like a happy hippy the earth loves everyone kind of thing. If it’s an earth deity, probably just not going to have any effect at all. So, seeing as she can’t be healed (throw me a bone here) her master made a point to teach her first aid. She knows how to make one (1) compound that stops bleeding. Doesn’t speed healing or prevent scars or anything, just helps clotting. She knows plant leaves in Raiarea that can be placed over a wound to help prevent infection. She also knows how to tie bandages with the right amount of tension so it will help stop bleeding and won’t fall off, but won’t cut off the circulation.