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Thread: Seamus Fiction...
06-13-2011, 09:10 AM #1
I love the Seamus model, have done since i started the game. i know the below caption isn't quite accurate in terms of resurrecting ****. The way it happens in the game is to vague for me. urmmmmm enjoy and comments are appreciated.
Seamus sat with his hands on his thighs and a content smile on his face. The tomb which he had decided to observe from, wasn't the highest in the graveyard and as a result his view was partially obstructed by a youngling tree growing up the fence near the eastern gate. The biggest and most extravagant tomb which sat just 10 feet north of his, was boarded by a waist high, spiked top, rust spotted fence; he had considered claiming the fence and tomb to obtain the optimal viewing position , but the thought of getting his suit dirty put him off.
With the excitement of the nights events he hadn't noticed the numbing cold creeping from the stone beneath him. Through his legs, his buttocks and up his back. He would surely pay for this lack of attention the next morning when his muscles would ache like hell, but right now he didn't care.
He had been sitting here for the best part of an hour watching and waiting. He drew in a deep breath feeling his rib cage expand and rise, drawing in the cool night air. There was a certain calm to be gained from a deep breath, a clarity that seemed to slow time, or so Seamus believed. He reached in to his left breast pocket and produced a gold pocket watch, the front panel popped open with a slight push of the release button; revealing the watches three handed face. The thinnest of the hands jumped around the white surface while its more mature companions sat almost on top of each other at twelve. Seamus deemed it was time to move, he replaced the watch in his pocket and slid off the tomb. He turned around and affectionately looked upon his effects. His huge flint lock pistol, old red bag and hat. This last item had become somewhat of a trade mark. Standing about twelve inches tall, it was a light pastel blue with a pink sash around the base, the top of the hat was wider than the base (but not wider than the rim) giving the hat a concave. He put the pistol in his jacket, placed his hat on his head, scooped up his bag and began east down the grave yard.
It wasn't the largest burial site Seamus had ever been in, but it wasn't by any means small, (and for a boarder town it was positively huge). From boarder to boarder it sat a square quarter acre on a gradual slope, where only the richest citizens were allowed to occupy the earth at the flat top of the hill. A seven foot iron fence, not unlike the one around the grand tomb, guarded the boundaries. At the east side was a black arched gate with a rather novelty looking giant padlock and chains to hold them shut. The old lock now lay shattered on the floor, having been blew apart by Seamuss' flint lock 'Bella Noir ', the gates now wide and welcoming. Newcomers to the town would ask why the grave site was so well fenced and protected? They would laugh when the locals said 'to keep the dead in'. Then quickly hush when they realised it was a serious statement. From the gate to where the hill levelled out, thirty or so head stones of various sizes and styles stood in rows silently guarding the commodity that lay beneath, they were however, not very good at their job. Nearly every grave was disfigured in a similar fashion, the earth disturbed and piled out around a central hole creating a black tunnel that not even the moon light would penetrate. The dark of that final resting place was absolute.
Seamus merrily plodded along the cold earth, still bearing that cold smile. It was a sickle moon that night, and a lesser man would of found it nearly impossible to see more than half a dozen feet, but over the decades Seamus had developed a rather good sense of night vision. As a consequence of this his normal eye site was partially ruined, if he need to venture out during the day light hours or to anywhere that was brighter than dim, he would need to wear a pair of black spectacles. Which in itself wasn't a bad price to pay.
Half way down the hill,
something caught his eye. He ducked to his right and several strides later he was stould over an undisturbed grave. It appeared to be no older than a week, a small bundle of dark petteld flowers lay at the head and a simple wooden marker announced the occupant.
'Sussan Duardio. Beloved wife and mother of three. You will be loved for ever. XVIII'
'XVIII' she was eighteen he thought. Excitement flooded through him, but he retained a cold composure. He kicked the small flowers from the head of the grave then squatted low next to it putting his bag gently on the floor to his right and his hat on top of it. The lace from his shirt cuffs hung almost to his knuckles, so not wanting to get them dirty, he tucked them in to his jacket fully revealing his hands. They were immaculate, no chewed nails no dry skin and certainly no dirt. He clapped loudly and began to furiously rub them together, his face cracking in a devilish grin. This was his favourite part, he had imagined it to be the same sensation when a new mother looks upon her babe for the first time. After all, giving new life and returning old life wasn't that different in his eyes.
Necromancy like all magic was very temperamental. It didn't bother Seamus that his spell didn't reanimate all the residence of the graveyard. Mass resurrection was difficult, and you were lucky if you got half the result you wanted, so one reluctant ghoul wasn't that bad. In all honesty he proffered the individual summoning's, the more focus you put in the more of the person comes back with the body. If Seamus really wanted to (and had done on a few occasions) he could almost completely bring a person back. But to perform this deed on a large group only produced mindless undead, but Sussan would be a bit more...alive, due to Seamus's focused skill
Hands still, the grin gone, his face was a picture concentration, the ritual was begun. He stretched out his left arm and held his hand flat, palm down and began to mumble. Seamus was a master at this it wouldn't take him long to draw her through. He continued to mutter, but allowed a small part of his concious to take in what was happening around him. A wind had begun to build up seemingly centralising on Seamus. He was used to this; and had come to think it was nature angry at what he was doing; feebly trying to stop him. It happed at every resurrection and it meant he was doing his job wright. The wind flicked his hair and lifted tails of his coat.
Seamus retracted his wondering attention and once again focused on the task in hand, the incantation was over half way complete. Heart thumping loudly throughout his head thud-thud, thud-thud. Mouth salivating. Palms beginning to sweat. His fingers were spread wide on his out stretched hand, slowly moving inwards creating a claw shape. The top layer of grave soil began to shudder slightly as the wind intensified, it whipped at him now trying to knock him off balance and break his concentration. The gap was closing, the scent of her perfume drifted through worlds on the wind, he soaked it up, the ethereal scent egging him on. Just a few more seconds; his will extended through the plains, his hand godly probing beyond the veil, almost there... .His hand snapped shut in to a fist and he opened his eyes, all seriousness gone from his face. His body had dumped excess adrenalin at the back of his throte and he was tasting metal. The wind had stopped, his heart had calmed and he could hear nothing but his short sharp breathing. The earth stould still, and Seamus pulled.
His fist remained clenched, and as he raised his arm the earth rose too, it began to mound and started to part. It seemed for every inch he raised his arm the mound grew a foot or so taller. From among the dark earth something rose. Fingers, standing a dull grey/green contrast against the earth. Then a hand, then a forearm. He continued to pull gradually standing up. Soon the body of Sussan Duardio was stould almost to her waist in grave dirt looking up at him. He released his grip on her and she slumped slightly. A smile full of affectation bloomed on his face. She was a short woman, no taller then five foot he thought, her grey skin was pulled tightly over her bones creating deep resevours of shadow. She had on a simple burial gown that would of been white weeks a ago, but now was a filthy brown colour. Patches of dark hair were clung to the rotting skin on top of her head, her eyes deep set, a murky grey colour with a sickly yellow twinge. He made a upwards gesture with one hand and she began to clamber out of the hole. He took one step back not taking his eyes of her. It was several minutes before Sussan Duardio stould before him. She met his eyes and regarded him with utter absence and a slack jaw. Seamus knew that inside this corpse a part of Sussan lingered. He had just pulled hard enough to draw a small amount of her through. He knew that this part would be scared and angry, the longer she remained animated the more of Sussan would trickle through; fanning her base emotions like a wind fuels a fire. At the moment she was little more than a mindless corpse, but in an hour or so she would be a vicious monster. He liked this thought.
Seamus raised his hand and pointed down the hill, with an extension of his will told Sussan Duardio to start down the hill through the gates and towards the town. She turned and began slowly down the hill her gown and hair lightly lifting in the newly arrived wind.
When Seamus was a new to this land, and just starting out his grisly carer, he had wondered why all the graves had been no more than 3 feet deep? He had never found out in all his years, and it baffled him why they didn't bury their dead deeper especially in these dark times. Nothing would of prevented him from doing his work, but he was thank full for the shallow graves, after all drawing a corpse form six feet of earth rather than three would require digging the body at least partially up, and of all things Seamus didn't like he hated mud, sweat, and blisters the most.
He stole his attention away from the abomination shambling down the hill and began making himself presentable again, unfurling his cuffs, flattening his hair and placing his hat where it belonged.
Once again he drew his plain gold watch and noted the time. He was late, Sussan had cost him almost half an hour. It didn't bother him too much. He cast his vision upon the cluster of buildings in the distance. The ground between him and the town was fairly easy going, it would take him no more than twenty minutes to get there, and would take Sussan probably double that. He ran his hands down his torso to make sure he had everything...he did. Picking up his bag he began after Sussan the breeze cooling him, his mood soaring.
06-13-2011, 01:55 PM #2
- Join Date
- Jan 2010
- Stirling (and Newcastle)
Thanked 14 Times in 14 Posts
I like it.
You should probably put it in the writing room section of the forum though.Good Trades: Absolution Black, Regnak, Kratos, Malandres, Wookie Gunner, Darkcloud, Crooked Grin, Bossman321, aka Hazard
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