Chapter 19: Lord of Bones

IV

My body had been badly damaged by the swarm of Ba-Shh, hand sized clumps had been violently torn from me, leaving a mess of blackened blood; I was grateful that I didn’t feel pain. My Necrotic Healing, channelled through Orlando, was quite effective - he had a much higher capacity for mana than my present vessel and, being a Paladin, he was a purposely designed receptacle for other’s Power.

Orlando was crying and trying to sooth what he thought to be an injured boy, gifted in the art of ritual magic. The darkness, constant rain, and his tears may have hidden the truth from him. The blackness of my blood, the coldness of my body, all the clues he required were laid out before him and thinking about it from his perspective my Detection skill went crazy. I shivered as I turned around from my curled position on the ground to see the Paladin; I was momentarily startled. His body was alight with lightning, dancing along his limbs and out of his eyes. His electrical tears still fell, and I was beginning to believe there was something more behind them, gods only knew what he had been through.

12 head sized globules of purple liquid appeared above us, arching down.

“Look out!” I called, covering my face, but there was no need. Orlando turned his attention to the incoming attack and it was evaporated by his lightning. He looked about to tear off after the Gribbiting Roppaters but I held him back with a hand on his arm.

“Help them,” I insisted, pointing to the dozen or so people who had been inside the now bisected giant bronze bull, and had not yet been burned into Ba-Shh. Speaking off the Ashriven, now that their master was dead they had fled, disappearing like smoke into the trees as did the other two headed snakes who had maintained their invisibility. The people of all races Orlando had unintentionally saved were mostly unconscious but some were beginning to come to - none were in good shape. Orlando looked torn so I decided to push him.

“I’ll deal with the frogs,” I said, pulling myself up from the ground.

“Fine,” he relented, still on one knee, “but be careful.” I simply smiled and winked. My boney hand, which I had been controlling with a mix of Bone Articulation and Possession, scurried across the now cleared courtyard and hopped up onto the Paladin’s sparking shoulder - the protections I had given my skeleton defended it from the lightning which cloaked the man.

Orlando let off a high pitched shriek, “Spider!” and smacked the thing sending bones in all directions. Once my hand was once more rearticulated he apologised reluctantly and began tending to the newcomers. I was left questioning whether the reaction was genuine, as, when I stifled a laugh, I could see a glimmer in his eye.

I set off at a sprint out of the crack, which Bal’s charge had widened to 7 feet across. Through the pouring rain it would have been difficult for my normal sight alone to find the poison spitters but with Life Sense it was easy. They had been jumping up and down, hiding behind trees, and generally being a nuisance for too long. More balls of poison came raining down on me but I didn’t care. I could see them far better than they could me and their hit rates reflected that. There proceeded a game, Splat the Frog, as I jumped out from behind oaks and popped them with Wind Blades at point blank range. The ease with which I dispatched the creatures made me regret not rushing them sooner. The last of them I didn’t kill, instead I caught it while it was on the ground, giving me a perfect pet, provided I restrained it from jumping and expanding to the size of a wagon. It squirmed in my grip as I walked back towards the fort, the rain having subsided but the winds as strong as ever. I also took a few Gribbiting Roppater’s corpses for research, they were easy to carry as, when they were dead, they shrank back to the size of a regular tree frog.

When I returned to the fort, I was surprised by what I saw. The dozen or so survivors from inside the shattered bronze monolith were mostly up on their feet, surrounding the bonfire we had constructed to see at night. I had thought that perhaps they wouldn’t want to be so close to flame given their recent experiences. Orlando was laughing, cajoling one particularly sturdy looking dwarf, and playing the part of the valiant hero, which suited him so well - the guise was almost perfect, although I could still make out some fragility behind his eyes. None of them seemed to pay any mind to the skeletal hand, still perched on the Paladin’s shoulder.

I walked up to the group as they tried their best to stay warm in the cold and windy night.

“Monster!” a beastkin with the head of a chicken baulked when she saw my shambling, blood-covered form in the flickering firelight. I checked behind me, not realising how bad I was. The others in the group all reacted differently, many looked about to bolt, but some - like the dwarf engaged in conversation with Olando - were ready to jump me.

“Wait,” the Paladin called with a smile, stopping both groups from acting.

“He’s with me, if it weren’t for him you wouldn’t be out of that infernal creature.” Given it he didn’t know quite how true those words were. It seemed rather generous, but his charisma calmed the crowd so I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I finished my approach and was welcomed into the fireside fold. The woman who had called me a monster was rather apologetic when she learned the truth and tried to wrap me in her shawl. I refused but when she laid a feathered hand upon my bare skin she insisted, claiming I felt as cold as death.

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“What’s happened?” I asked Orlando, taking a seat beside the man, all of us sat on stones that used to be a part of the wall.

“Exactly what I’ve been wanting to know,” the dwarf concurred, slapping me on the shoulder and nearly sending me tumbling into the fire. He didn’t even seem to notice but Orlando did and tried to catch me before I stopped myself. The dwarf had long black hair with streaks of grey and a beard that was bradided into various decorative knots, ornamented with beads. He spoke in an accent that was both smooth and melodic yet reminded me of a country bumpkin.

“Last thing I remember I was on holiday, prospecting in the Wilds, when out of nowhere came a great big bronze bull. At first I thought, I thought that’s some high quality metal that is, and I was after copping it - maybe just a wee bit mind as the fellah looked a mite fierce - anyhow, I was standing there, walking towards him with pick in hand, and next thing I know the lovely summer's day has been replaced by a stormy night and I’m surrounded by a bunch of longlegs,” the dwarf complained, but I could tell he was somewhat excited by the turn of events. Most of the others were not.

“Hear hear!” a man wearing a grey wig shouted, sparking a chorus of similar stories told simultaneously. It was difficult to make out much but from what I could gather: the chicken lady had been in a kingdom to the east of The Eastern Wilds and was out gathering Jute, then, was here - without a second inbetween, a gnome was testing his latest invention when he was snatched, and one elderly woman still didn’t seem to know where she was. Interestingly a trio of hooded youths who looked quite nervous didn’t have anything to say.

“Calm down, calm down,” Orlando encouraged, standing and making a lowering gesture with his arms. “We can discuss this later, I think the first order of business should be getting a meal. This was met with agreement all round and seconds later Orlando leaped into the air, Storm Cloak still wrapped around him - it was likely what had obscured the view of our refugees, preventing them from seeing the translucent figure of the man which marked him as a poltergeist.

I then proceeded to engage in small talk with the survivors and learned more about them. At one point I heard a question vibrating through my radial bone which was still affixed to the Paladin.

“Why?” he asked in a very flat voice, much removed from the comforting and commanding tone he had used around the others. I was in the middle of talking to the forthright dwarf about coastal erosion, he had likened it to rust and we were having a spirited debate about its usefulness in the greater ecosystem when the message came through. I begged a reprieve, claiming I needed to take a leak before I could concentrate on my Possession of the boney appendage.

“Why what?” I responded by vibrating the other of my two forearm bones.

“Why give me so much power, half of that would have been more than enough. Was it a statement, what could you want from me that is worth such an investment of mana?” I considered telling the truth, that I was in Possession of another body, but at this point that didn’t seem wise. Orlando's cold and calculating voice gave me pause.

“You are in Fort Far-Reach?” I asked.

“How do you know that? Can you see through that thing?” he asked and I felt a finger flick my hand.

“That’s none of your concern,” I replied evasively, “I hold lordship over that domain and I’d like for you to rebuild it. I remember hearing you grew up there so I can’t imagine you’d object.”

There was a moment of silence and I had no idea how he reacted, there was then the sound of a startled deer which was swiftly cut off.

“That can’t be it! I have bound myself to you, I am now your paladin Osseus - I would have expected you to ask me to put you back together then serve at your side.”

“Why?” I responded, baffled.

“Experience,” Orlando replied grimly.

“I took you as a man of your word and if you said that I couldn’t be released until a jury could be assembled to try me for my mistake–”

“Mistake!” he started in disbelief.

“Miscalculation, whatever you’d call it. The point is I won’t make you break your word. besides, I’m doing alright, as you can see,” I relayed, waving my severed hand.

“That ship has sailed,” he mumbled darkly before raising his voice, “fine, I am in your service now so I can’t really complain whatever you say. There is another matter, don’t address me as Orlando. After what I did… suffice to say if the people I’m with knew who I was they may not feel safe.” I took a moment to ponder his words.

“What should I call you then?” I asked.

“It doesn’t really matter, just not Orlando,” he responded.

“Alright Sargent Fluffykins it is,” I replied, trying to inject some humour.

“What, not a chance,” he rebutted, his pride not allowing such insult.

“Then give me a name,” I shot back, slightly annoyed that he hadn't taken to the title. There was a moment’s pause. “Call me Rowland, it was my father’s name and should suffice.”

“Rowland,” I said, testing the name by rolling it up and down my arm bone.

“Oh, one thing before I forget,” I said, ending the Storm Cloak spell, “I’ll need to cast an illusion on you so you don’t look quite so dead.” I heard a thud somewhere out in the darkened forest and saw a tree fall. There wasn’t an answer for a good long while before a groan came down the connection.

“Warn me if you're going to do that!” Orlando (Rowland) complained with a nasal voice, “I was using the lightning to see,” he elaborated at my noise of confusion.

“...Ah.. sorry…” I apologised, “This might help,” I added, casting Illusionary Skin through the Paladin.

“Thanks,” he replied sarcastically, and I was forced to stifle a laugh.

Several moments later Orlando, now Rowland, returned, falling from the sky with several deer slung over his shoulders. My spell had made him look flesh and blood but that wasn’t all it did; multicoloured balls of glowing light were affixed randomly about his person.

“What’s with the light show?” the dwarf asked with a chuckle as the others seemed excited about the idea of meat.

“I think Rowland looks pretty,” I added, trying to stoke his pride. He didn’t seem to see the humour in it, his face hard and stoney.

“Rowland?” he asked and the reason for his mood became evident.