Thread: Stolen Bones [Alakazam & Grungeknuckle]

Samuel drew his staff back from the door, planted it on the ground, and forced power into his voice. Now. Take her. Though a little more than a whisper, the words hissed and echoed, seeming to move on their own accord past the door, to be clearly heard by those inside. With a gibbering shriek of excitement, Nas lunged forward, materializing out of the shadows, crooked skeletal form with dead eyes and ethereal mist draped from it's bones. One cold claw reached out, passing through Aria's, a chilling, untouchable presence on her flesh, and locked onto the handle of the dagger as it came down on it. The other hand shot out, wrapping around the collar of her tunic, pulling her closer. It's own visage drawing closer to the girl's own face, Nas pulled a jagged, leering grin, the black smog of undeath pooling from it's open jaws. He was shivering with excitement. This was almost like the old days, when he was still alive. Him, a knife, and a cornered, frightened woman, just the way he liked it. Dying hadn't erased any of the pleasure he tasted in the fear of others, nor had it diminished his strength. He strained to pry the blade from Aria's hand, a slow, but painfully inevitable struggle. He would get the knife, just like so many times before. Toth was more direct. He materialized behind the girl, a larger, translucent abomination of cold smoke and decayed flesh with no face, took hold of a chair, and swung it at her legs, knocking her off her feet. Samuel did not give her time to recover. As soon as he had spoken, the necromancer had heaved forward, driving his shoulder into the weakened wood and crippled frame. Though the lock did not give, the wood that it was anchored to did, cracking and crumbling away. With thudding, furious strides, he marched forward, towards the sounds of struggle, towards the girl on the floor, until he was just about standing over her. Raising his staff up, he brought it down upon her, delivering to her a sharp blow to the head, and the blissful black of unconsciousness. ------------------------------------------------------ Getting the girl back to his house, his cellar, was no easy task. Though the good citizens no longer walked the streets at this late hour, there were still the occasional straggler and drunk, lost or wandering aimlessly. There was also the town guard, and their usual rounds to be made. Eventually, Samuel chose the method that was easiest, and least suspicious. He pulled the girl's hood down over her eyes, draped his coat over her, and swung her arm around his neck, then proceeded to traipse back home. To all who saw them from a distance, it looked like two drunks, or one drunk being helped along by their much taller friend. If it would be any consolation to the thief, bending over like that while supporting her made Samuel's back ache. Once home, Samuel removed his coat, her hood, and dragged the elf girl down into the cellar, closing the heavy doors behind him. They kept in the screams of the undead, and his own shouted incantations, they'd silence this girl's cry to the world as well. He bound her hands together, and lashed the bindings to one of the thick beams supporting the structure above. She was left crouching on her knees, and wouldn't be able to stand, but could lean back against the beam if she needed to rest. Samuel wasn't yet comfortable with his monstrosity. Having secured the girl, he gave her a swift slap across the face. Wake up! he shouted, and slapped her again. He didn't have the time to wait for her to awaken properly. Haste was of utmost importance here.