I sighed deeply as I started undoing the leather armor I wore, letting it all clatter to the floor around me in progressively toned thuds and clunks, I unfastened the knee high many buckled/belted boots I wore and let them thump to the floor beside me as I stretched my arms out and pushed the mask over my eyes up to my hairline. I took the black tunic I had off revealing the chainmail I had under the leather armor which I also tossed off, I set my mask beside me as I breathed deeply and pushed my hands into my back cracking it loudly,
“Finally, my skin can breathe.” I said as I cracked all my joints, sitting on the side of my bed, shirtless save for a black corset and my lower body in high waisted leather trousers and black socks. I stood up as I pulled my socks off and replaced them because of how sweat soaked the ones I had on before were along with my tunic, replacing it with a black silk button down which I tucked into my trousers before I looked in the mirror above my dresser as I sighed deeply. Without a doubt, I am Sigian by how I look: I’m extremely tall, I stand about six foot five or so, average for a girl in Sigia is upper five feet to mid-six foot, for a guy the full spectrum of six feet, Lodorite are always…so much shorter than me. I looked back towards my reflection; large upturned almond shaped eyes in a glowing neon turquoise color with slit pupils, a sign of my sorcerer bloodline, the same rich caramel skin tone as all Sigian, short clipped black hair that’s extremely short over the right side and back of my head with the top and left side left to my jaw in kinky curls, a massive crescent shaped scar went through my right eye as wide as my iris, I pushed my hair back showing the low widow’s peak of my hair, I have broad shoulders, heavy black brows, broad hipped and heavily muscled, I’ve got washboard abs, but my entire body is covered completely in endless swirls, coils and curls of darkness, my arms are solid ink black from mid-upper arm down, my upper arms and shoulders covered in coils and curls, my legs are the same from mid-thigh down, but my hands are also too long for my frame and my fingers are too thin and long ending in huge steel colored talons, flames of darkness cover my back to the nape of my neck, I have fairly unique features: full lips, extremely high and sharp cheekbones and my brows are low sitting making me always look angry or upset in some way. I smiled softly showing all my teeth are razor sharp triangular points, an effect of my sorcerer bloodline as well.
I took a long thin platinum chain off my neck looking at the huge gold signet ring of my family hanging in the center showing the symbol of two crossed swords behind a shield with the emblem of a bird on the shield, I laughed softly as it put it back on before taking another chain off my neck, it was thicker rope styled gold covered completely in signet rings of the nobles I’ve killed, I tucked it into my sock drawer before tossed a black robe like jacket around my shoulders and fastened the wide buttons belt around my waist as I walked back down the stairs. I do wear makeup; I wear a lot of heavy black liner and dark red lipstick. I wear the mask because my eyes are so…unique. My mask is masquerade styled in fitted steel adorned with filigree, black gauze in the eyeholes so I can see through, but people can’t see in. I set my swords against the wall, I wield a weird sort of weaponry: I have a great-sword, a longsword and a short-sword, but I also have a dagger. I don’t have any kind of ranged weapon because of my magic, but I am a wicked shot with a crossbow. Darkness boiled around my feet and I sank my swords into the darkness, those things are…expensive and definitive markers of my identity so, can’t let anyone have a chance of stealing them.
As I walked back down the stairs, Dimarkis was pouring a large mug of tea and set it on the table as he softly patted my shoulder as I sat down, his massive cat, Mittens, quickly hopping up into my lap and purring loudly, he’s honestly just a massive cuddle bug, the cat cannot get enough pets and chin scratches, he’s about a good twenty pounds of spoiled rotten cat. The small bell around his collar jingled as I scratched his chin and softly held the teacup in my other hand.
“You find anything good in your recent trip?” he asked as he set the tea pot on a disk of cork,
“Nothing magical, some old vintage jewelry and things, I was going to go to the market center tomorrow and sell off the jewels and metal, probably going to separate them tonight.” I said,
“Any plans for tonight?”
“Just heading over to the bath-house then the tavern for dinner, a good drink then back here and bed.” I said, I don’t need to eat or sleep, but I still feel the need to do so. My body just doesn’t need it. According to magic and things, my entire person shows up as undead instead of mortal. I’m not technically undead because I’ve never died and been brought back, I am undead in a sense where every fiber of my being feeds on necromantic magic, I can endlessly die and bring myself back in about a day, no matter the state of my body. My magic has caused certain quirks to my physical form because of it; my body is as cold as ice to the touch, I don’t breathe, my heart does not beat, I often forget to blink, my skin will flash to corpse like pale and my body will flash translucent with exposed bones, I also don’t need to eat or sleep; I cannot die from starvation or lack of sleep.
“Of course, of course, take it easy for tonight.” He said before softly patting my head, “Are you sick, dear, you’re cold as ice.”
“You always know I’m icy cold.” I said laughing softly, I’ve lived here for nine years, I was also a teenager when I moved in here, he’s taken it upon himself to be a self-imposed guardian for me for a while, I don’t see him as like a parental figure or anything, but he is one of the few Lodorite I don’t want to murder, he however probably sees me as a kid or something.
“Right, right” he said before sighing, “It’s just always so strange, how icy cold you are.” He said as he hobbled/shuffled back into the front of the shop.
After sitting for a few hours playing with Mittens, a few cups of tea and going through the story I made up on the way back here to makeup a believable lie for a mercenary. I can’t tell him what I’m actually doing. But afterwards, I walked back up into my room, pulling a pair of buckled over the knee boots up my legs, a long velvet tailed vest and a leather duster coat before I left out the back door, no hood, mask or anything, people know me around here, not my actual name, they know me as a mercenary by the name of Aram Devilitor. Not as Aramathius Renaud. I cannot recall the last time I was called Aramathius.
I also don’t have to worry about people using divinatory magic to spy on me, court magicians from Lodor or Sigia in the new Lodorite controlled court never got a rite of death for the younger princess of the Renaud family, so many times I’ve been alerted of someone trying to scry on me or other things, but luckily, my apartment is packed with so many wards and protective enchantments I’ve learned from helping my sister practice that it’s pretty much impossible to learn my location, see what I’m doing, where I am amongst everything of that sort. I am invisible to all divination magic.
As I walked the streets towards the bath-house I often go to after a long trek, I heard the usual call of boys from brothel windows called out to me with calls of Aram, people saying hi or welcome back to me from tavern doors or areas amongst similar things, but at the same time, I heard/saw people saw horrible things about me: easily hearing people spit Sigia in my direction, they like to use my ethnicity as a slur or insult. I walked through the stone doors of the bathhouse of dark stone and wood, smooth dark stone flooring and instantly my nose filling with the smell of soaps and things.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“Just a bath and my clothing laundered.” I said,
“Let’s see…two gold.”
“Alright” I said paying.
I put my clothing in the cubby, leaving myself in a sheer wrapped robe as I walked through the door walking into the fully public bath, I don’t care what people say about me because of how my magic has altered my body. I set the robe on the bench along the wall as I stepped into the huge bath, there was about a dozen or so other people, but the moment I let the robe drop, I felt eyes rapidly flick onto me and away as they saw how my body was completely covered in blackness from my magic. I mean, my fingers are like a full extra joint longer looking, but no additional joint. I slid under the water before flicking my short hair back as I rose out of the water, feeling the stress and soreness melt out of my muscles from my work. I quickly went about my business properly bathing and everything before getting out, drying properly and getting redressed in my freshly laundered clothing, I fixed my makeup from my bag of holding on my hip, I flicked my jacket back on as I stepped out of the bathhouse as I went to one of the taverns closer to The Ink Pot, it wasn’t a noble level tavern, but it was still very good. A meal was about eight silver pieces, if you spent the night, two gold. I sat at the high cobbled stone bar and rested my arms on the polished dark wood top as I just slid my hand out and caught the mug of ale that was slid along it, there was about three dozen people inside, it was a larger tavern, a trio of performers in the far corner playing happy, fast paced music as some people danced about on the dance floor. The food was good, but as I was finishing my third ale, the bartender put a small thing of sweets in front of me,
“From the guy at table thirteen…in the red doublet.”
“Send them to him.” I said as I pushed the plate of candy back towards her,
“Are you sure, he was pretty…insistent about you getting them.”
“One second.” I said before reaching into my shirt and taking out a tiny little metal case, but when I opened it inside was a tiny calligraphy pen, a brick of solid ink and a tiny little pad of paper, I quickly scrawled a quick note that was basically just “fuck off” which I folded in half, “Give this to him too.” I said as I snapped the case closed and tucked it back into my shirt, I store everything in my corset. She nodded softly before walking back over to the guys table with the plate and handed him the note, I could hear him jeering his friends about how the note was probably my room number or something, only for him to get intensely laughed at as he opened it to see the words fuck off stare back at him. I heard a tankard slam on the table before heavy footsteps move towards me,
“Hey, bitch…where do you get off on turning down me? You’re a filthy Sigian, you should feel honored that I, a Lodorite is even looking at you.” He said stamping up towards me, I quickly held my hand back with a finger raised as I drained my tankard before turning on my stool and stood, I dwarfed him,
“Where the fuck do you get off thinking that because you’re from this shit hole that you are entitled to treating my people like nothing?” I snapped back,
“You…bitch!” he snapped before going to punch me, but I just flicked my hand as I rose my arm and he winced as he held his hand, I simply took a few steps forward, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall eye-level with me, his hands grabbing and clawing at my wrist as I pushed against his throat, his friends drew swords and things behind me, I rolled my head around to look over my shoulder towards him,
“Boys, that shits not going to do much to me.” I said before letting go of the guy before quickly slamming my elbow against his temple and he went down like a ton of bricks, in retaliation his friends all rushed me, I felt the thumps of weapons going to hit my back, but the swords couldn’t make contact with me. I laughed softly before I held my hand up, “As I said…not going to do much.” I said before snapping my fingers and smoke fell from my hands as all of them seized up and jerkily stepped backwards as I controlled their blood making them do that. I’m a necromancer, I have a massive book of magic that all it focuses on is blood. I turns as I rose my hand, spreading my fingers, thin red light strings connecting my fingers to them, I made them full force run/slam into each other knocking them out. I flicked my collar before giving a soft salute to the bartender before taking my leave. Always happens.
As I walked I felt someone grab my upper arm as I heard a voice go, Get back here, bitch, before he faltered back looking at his hand,
“What’s wrong?” one of his friends asked,
“She…she’s as cold as ice.” He said, his hand was red from the cold of my person as I laughed, I cracked my neck as I turned on my heel towards them, as I did so, I felt one of my moments happen where my entire figure appears as a skeleton swathed in silvery/black smoke for a split second,
“Have you boys…never learned?” I asked as I cracked my knuckles, “Never…fuck with a necromancer.”
“Nec…necro…” one sputtered, necromancy is…loathed with an extreme heat in Lodor, they see it as pure evil where nobody should even know the word necromancy. I held my hand up, smoke swirled before narrow arrows of pure shadow formed in an arch in front of me, they all slammed into the ground at their feet making them stumble back, a little cantrip I know.
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