Dmaster
Herald of the Changer
"Scare you? Please. I know you are too feeble-minded to be scared." Gawain retorts, still playing with the necrotic energy passively in front of the cultist. "I am simply granting you an ultimatum. I could easily and swiftly reunite you with your twisted god, or I could perhaps turn your body into one of my skeletal thralls as you still live." So the being he was after was known as the Watcher? Having a name for it would certainly allow him to track it better or look up its history through more obscure texts.
"I do not fear dying, though I detest deranged cult members telling me how they'll tear out the souls of my compatriots." the mage said flatly, soon nodding at Edgar's words. "I think I've gotten all I need from you, though you technically did not answer my questions." His hand continued to course with magical energies as he drew it closer, spreading his fingers as he grasps at the cultist's face and begins to weave the spell. "A terrible shame. I wonder if your god will still have you after your corpse has been made a shambling servant of mine."
Necrotic energies pour into the cultist, seep into her pores as her body writhes and twists unnaturally in her restraints. Pushing the spell further than he has before, Gawain drives her skull into the wall of the alley as the cultist's body begins to shudder and break apart. Unlike the spell he cast on the bandits, the cultist does not explode into a gorey mess but rather black, wispy smoke that wraps about her limbs and clings to her body. The shoddy hood she wore opened up, revealing a black and featureless void where a face once remained. The black mist appears to cling to itself, 'melting' into a spectral cowl and set of robes as the physical form of the cultist now appears to be in constant flux. Gawain's bare hand is soon touching the wall, the spell having ended as the mage wearily stands up to admire his handiwork. The skeletal mage had made a wraith.
"Interesting..." Gawain mused as he looked at his palm that cast the spell, only to clutch at his wounds as he started to head out of the alleyway. "I like you much better this way, I think. Seems as though your spirit won't be making its way to your god after all. Come along, then. We've got to tell the company what has transpired here." The undead spirit had no choice but to follow its new master as he made his way to the tavern.
"I do not fear dying, though I detest deranged cult members telling me how they'll tear out the souls of my compatriots." the mage said flatly, soon nodding at Edgar's words. "I think I've gotten all I need from you, though you technically did not answer my questions." His hand continued to course with magical energies as he drew it closer, spreading his fingers as he grasps at the cultist's face and begins to weave the spell. "A terrible shame. I wonder if your god will still have you after your corpse has been made a shambling servant of mine."
Necrotic energies pour into the cultist, seep into her pores as her body writhes and twists unnaturally in her restraints. Pushing the spell further than he has before, Gawain drives her skull into the wall of the alley as the cultist's body begins to shudder and break apart. Unlike the spell he cast on the bandits, the cultist does not explode into a gorey mess but rather black, wispy smoke that wraps about her limbs and clings to her body. The shoddy hood she wore opened up, revealing a black and featureless void where a face once remained. The black mist appears to cling to itself, 'melting' into a spectral cowl and set of robes as the physical form of the cultist now appears to be in constant flux. Gawain's bare hand is soon touching the wall, the spell having ended as the mage wearily stands up to admire his handiwork. The skeletal mage had made a wraith.
"Interesting..." Gawain mused as he looked at his palm that cast the spell, only to clutch at his wounds as he started to head out of the alleyway. "I like you much better this way, I think. Seems as though your spirit won't be making its way to your god after all. Come along, then. We've got to tell the company what has transpired here." The undead spirit had no choice but to follow its new master as he made his way to the tavern.