Have some late-night fic. I’ve been wanting to work out the details of Alaois’ awakening for a while because I feel like it kind of explains a lot about their disposition. Maybe. Or it’s just more “man that’s a weird bean.”
A bit more experimental than my usual stuff, hopefully it reads okay.
The world is shaking.
The world is screeching and ripping and battling voices and battling wills and a storm and then the darkness is peeling apart, splitting at the edges, and without warning there is light and heat and lines and edges and there is sensation.
“The shadow is retreating! Someone must have fought it off!” The first spoken words we hear. They are distant, and mean little. They meant almost nothing, in fact—not compared to the waves of energy, the press of excitement and the razor edge of emotions washing over us as we climb to our feet, stagger over moss and grass. We are alone, here. We are not alone, we are surrounded by thoughts and cries and we are filled with feelings and emotions, but we are alone.There are voices volleying at the edge of our mind, but they mean nothing.
Motion, force, and we come crashing to the ground. The beast is snapping teeth and raking claws and it is nothing we have ever seen or dreamed before but fear and imminent danger is a feeling we learn quickly and we fight. We fight with what little strength we have for a life we have only just been given, and we fear that the life will end soon, and then the beast cries and it twists and it hits the ground beside us, unmoving.
And then, we can see it. The sword’s blade has cleaved a deep gash in the creature’s neck, but the skull shines, clean and perfectly preserved, and the vines curl and twist and weave themselves between the bones and flesh, become muscle and tendon where there there is none, becoming skin. Becoming whole.
The form is elegant. It makes sense.
We reach out a hand to touch the body, and are startled to see the golden sap that runs down our arm and onto the creature’s flank. Then finally, slowly, the words begin to mean something.
“…quickly, are you okay? Can you stand?”
We look up, we see the sword, the armor, and the word comes to us unbidden. Warden. An ally.
“Yes.” The sound feels strange on our lips, but we speak. We rise, then, though we want to stay. To study the beast that almost killed us. To understand.
A flicker of unease, uncertainty. In the warden’s features, in their thoughts, in the air between us. “What’s your name, sapling?” they ask, guarded.
Name. An identity. A sound to recognize and answer to. We hesitate, but this comes unbidden as well. “Alaois.” An individual.
“Come with me, Alaois.” They beckon, turning away and toward the path beyond. “My name is Xerik, I’ll take you somewhere safe. We’ll find a mender, get those arms patched up.”
So I follow.
We are everywhere. This is our home, it must be. We know the shapes, though it is not as it once was. All around there are bodies—our bodies, not our bodies. I slow, the creatures beg to be studied, to be understood, but the warden urges me forward. There are others. They speak, and I listen at first, but slowly, again, the words begin to mean little.
“I tracked it down to the base and took care of it. That should be the last of the mordrem here in the city.”
“You found another survivor?”
“I… I suppose. It looked like one of the monster’s tendrils had punched its way right through the pod, but… the sapling inside was still alive. For what it’s worth.”
I heard there was necro love goin’ on in the gw2 tag today
unfortunately I don’t have time to get Cool Screens so instead I just farted out a warmup doodle of the small trashbean who is currently SUPER ARRESTED for allegedly trying to kill two Priory members and an innocent bystander.
I’ve waffled back and forth on posting these roleplays for some time because I had said a while back that I didn’t want to do too much with Alaois because I was verging into major “lore-bending” territory, but then the rp arc got out of hand and then it got awesome and I decided I no longer care.
So, part one of the ongoing saga of “Alaois Has No Idea How Much Trouble They’re Actually Causing,” featuring drygrasses‘ Elias Bardizian.
(Warning for a few slightly graphic and gross necrominion descriptions)
Elias Bardizian darts in, hoping the rush from his last speed boost won’t run out before he reaches the Lodge. The Fang is the last thing he needs to see before he can finally leave this godforsaken iceberg of a city. He sees a blue shape looming and has the chance to think “By the Six, nothing should be that big” before his foot goes through something with a sickening CRUNCH. He falls headlong, whatever he stepped on scrabbling at his leg and emitting disturbingly squishy noises.
——
The crunch of whatever was on the ground is quickly met with a quiet exclamation of surprise from behind Elias, followed by the quick movement of a small figure approaching him. The sylvari hesitates a moment before kneeling at Elias’ feet, examining the rather mangled but still squirming minion pinned there. Without a word Alaois begins to pry the poor creature apart to free up the human’s foot. They pause eventually, fanged skull in hand—the removal of which finally ceases the minion’s movement—glancing up to say lightly, “this would have been faster if you had crushed the head.”
——
“I’m sorr—what?” Elias says, sure that he heard wrong. The feeling of his foot planted in surprisingly warm undead innards was rather distracting. “Did you just suggest that I should have killed your minion, or—god forbid—jammed my foot through a creepy fleshy cat-monkey on purpose?”
——
Alaois stares at the skull in their hand for a long moment, before turning wide blue eyes back up to Elais. “You can’t kill them,” the sylvari says with a fleeting smile, tone gentle as if they are speaking to a child. “They’re already dead. You see?” They hold the skull out, pressing it rather insistently into Elias’ hands. “This one is at least a month old. It’s very clear from the discoloration here.” They lean forward, forsaking the effort of clearing the crushed remains of the minion away from Elias’ boot, in order to point out exactly the spots they’re referring to.
——
“Th-that’s pretty impressive?” Elias hazards, leaning away as best he can with a skull in hand and ribcage on foot. He’s rather caught off-guard by the sylvari’s amiable tone and complete disregard for personal space. He shakes his foot, dislodging the ribcage with a sickening SHLORP. “Sorry about the—oh, there it goes. I’ll just, er, be on my way then?”
——
Alaois beams, seeming very pleased by Elias’ interest. But a moment later they snatch back the skull, as if fearing that Elias may try to make off with it. “You know what’s more impressive?” They continue, completely disregarding Elias’ attempt to excuse himself. The sylvari leans over, plucking the battered ribcage off the ground—leaving a few wet scraps of flesh smeared on the wood boards in the process. “If I was back home, if I had some real, proper material to work with, I could stitch it back together and have it on its feet again right away.” Alaois leans in again, holding the ribcage between them so that Elias can easily see the worst cracks in the bones. “Vines and fungi real can do wondrous things that skin and tendon can’t.”
——
Elias Bardizian nods feebly. “That’s great,” he says in a rush, trying his best not to breathe in the putrid fumes of the ribcage. He realizes he’s been staring at a slightly oozing pustule on the remains when the sylvari’s words finally register. “Wait, vines? But aren’t those plants?” He knows he sounds stupid—this sylvari already sounds vaguely condescending—but there’s a reason he’s a thief and not a necromancer.
——
Alaois’ eyes light up even more at the question and, still smiling, the sylvari nods eagerly. “Have you ever been beyond Caledon, into the Maguuma wastes? There are creatures there touched by the Dragon’s magic, given new life by the plants that inhabit the bodies.” They set the ribcage down in Elias’ lap, reaching on hand up and around to lightly touch the staff strapped to their back. “As far as I know it’s not common necromantic practice, but I couldn’t see any reason not to follow the same pattern.”
——
Elias Bardizian feels his lips twitch. “Why not Dragon,” he says, his voice about an octave higher. “Of course. No reason not to.” He edges away from the still-smiling sylvari carefully. For a moment he thinks wildly whether or not there’s some sort of organization he should be reporting this to. Should he run out to the Priory encampment, tell them a clearly unhinged necromancer who follows a dragon is in the Lodge? Should he throw himself under the protection of the Vigil and hope someone could put him in like, witness protection if this sylvari decided to come after him? It wasn’t too far-fetched, considering the way the sylvari looked like they were eyeing you up and about to go for your neck.
——
Alaois lets their hand fall away from the staff, smile never fading but easing slightly to a less manic and more content look. The sylvari stands then, finally forfeiting the personal space they had claimed from Elias, before stooping to retrieve the ribcage as well. For a long moment they simply stand, looking Elias up and down as another glob of flesh slowly peels away from the bones to hit the floor with a quiet splort. At length Alaois blinks slowly—for the first time, perhaps, in their whole conversation—before saying, “you seem very reasonable. We could be friends, you know. If we crossed paths again.”
——
“Ah ha ha. I guess,” Elias says desperately, eyes casting about the room for any way out, any way AWAY from this unnerving and possibly evil sylvari. “Why, whaddya know, I think I see a ham over there with my name on it, and boy I haven’t had lunch ye—er,” he cuts off as a blond norn sits down and promptly eats said ham. “Actually, that is definitely Great-Aunt—er, Uncle, Mildred and I just happened to miss them at the last family reunion so sorry gottagobye?” He turns to leave.
Also once I got Alaois to 80 I was tasked with finding suitable scepter and dagger skins without just piling on more mordrem skins, and at first I really wasn't sure I was gonna find something that fit the character, but then...
