<span style='font-size:7pt;line-height:100%'>Mia 23rd, 81383 When: Late in the evening Where: Janardan Academy Who: Kazul Reatuf and Nyymbata Ohmes </span> The halls of Janardan had turn into a swamp, or at least to the mind of telepathy teacher Kazul Reatuf. Cold murky water, grey sun less sky and a thick fog that couldnÂ’t be pierced by his eyes, most likely because they werenÂ’t really open. Kazul was living through one of his highly detailed sleep walking incidents again, a side affect of the concoctions he had been brewing and testing out to try and enhance his telepathic powers. He had noticed days when heÂ’d wake up in random rooms of the school and have no memory of getting there, this had spurred him to take a few more safety procedures, multiple locks on the doors, hiding the keys from himself. And for the most of it he thought it was working, until he woke up with his night shirt covered in blood and in a place he had vowed to never go to again. That stopped him for a whole season, he was afraid of what dangers he was getting into. However, in the end he had returned to his potions and his thirst for knowledge. Tonight he had slowly moved through a few floors of the school, all the while believing that he was some sort of adventurer making his way through Calamarha Swamplands. Things could be worse, he could have actually been wondering somewhere in Calamarha Swamp. He was wearing light plaid pajama pants and a pale loose button up shirt, his empty white eyes where closed as he pushed his way out of the last classroom in the hall. As he opened the door his looked down, seeing in his mind eye, the brown water of the swamp. Gingerly his stuck his foot out the doorway, lowering it inch my inch to the waters surface to test the depth. Seeming happy enough with his experiment he walked the rest of the way out of the room, dragging his feet as if they were being resisted by the water. He moved with arms outstretched, afraid to run into some unseen object in the mist. Lurching forward with his uneven gait he moved down towards the end of the dimly lit hall looking like a zombie from a cheap horror movie. And heading towards a very steep flight of stairs.
ooc: sorry for the forever wait. still excited for this 'un c: ------------------- -- - -- ----------------- -- - -- -------------------------- - The touch of the wooden pipes was unlike that of the bells. Tapping against her chest, they did not surprise her with their sharp, metallic cool. They did not weight her body as heavily as the bandoleer did, nor did they threaten to rattle under sharp, misguided steps. The pipes were neutral, they were complacent. They were... not what Nyymbata was used to. Pulling her jacket tighter to her frame, she moved along the icy paths of campus cussing the name of Mia. It felt like death's cold and hungry grip, and while that was something she was all to familiar with, she could hardly say she had gotten accustomed to it. Mittens, patterned red hounds-tooth, finally wrapped themselves around the metal handle of her residence's side-entrance door and, with all the force her winter-numbed body could muster, clawed open the floodgates of warmth. Cool white light lit the monochromatic stairway and caused the grunge and neglect to surface on the scene. Although the walls had been painted le-mort white and the floors business gray the corners still looked seedy, the railings still looked a couple shades too brown, and the air still smelt rank with urine. But such an ignored entrance-way was required... Nyym had been up to no-good, and needed a likewise no-good path back to her room. Any other route would've likely led to some awkward conversation, a good deal of lying, and, at the worst, a pinch of violence. And she'd partaken in too much bloodshed already that eve. Sacrificial offerings and bloodshed were debatable practices within necromancy... And Nyym, well, she was always on the side of the debate. While a night's bountiful foray would've usually left the young thill in good spirits, she climbed the stairs with an evident frown of displeasure. 'What a waste of time. I should've chosen a better location... or a better friggin' set'a'pipes.' A failed experiment with costs that pinnacled higher than the resulting benefits, if there had been any at all? Hm, certainly seemed that way. Step after worn-out step, the thoughts worsened and threatened on thunderstorm. Just as she was ready to belt out a more vocal chorus of self-punishments, the door a few flights up flung open and the Anubi regarded a sight more ghastly than a corpse. It was the corpse of a teacher. The animated corpse of a teacher. The animate corpse of a teacher that she had summoned. "Vaak."
OOC: Worth the wait :3The telepath teacher remained oblivious to the presence of someone else in the hall, rather, he was distracted by the feeling of goop between his toes. He paused for a moment, looking down at his feet, he wiggled his toes, that too him, were being suctioned to the bottom of the marsh. It was a strange feeling, and with every slow step there was a pop as the muck released his foot. He smiled to himself, amused. There was a sharp sound on the air, his ears twitched forward but he couldn't see anything. Better pick up the pace. Moving forward the mist slowly parted for him, revealing a road black to the "path" he was blindly following. In front of his dreaming eyes there was a slanted patch of rocks that the water was running down. In front of his real eyes where the stairs. 'Only one way to deal with this', he thought to himself. Most of Kazuls' midnight adventures involved him wondering in a strange land, sometimes even interacting with people in real life. He would see them as they really are, not as the masks they wore. Someone who was a monster towards everyone else was an actual monster in his dreams. Some mornings he would wake up feeling terribly weak with a killer headache, a kind of Fronima hangover. Some mornings he would wake up from dreaming with the dead. The nearly glowing white arden lowered himself on to him rump at the top of the small rapids, hoping that detergent he had would wash the stains out of his pjs', they were his favorite pair. Slowly dragging himself he got down the slope, not sure what would be waiting for him at the bottom. More mud probably. In reality there was the 'thump' of his rear against each step as he pulled himself over every ledge. Good luck explaining the reason why those muscles would be so sore tomorrow.
Had she been in the right frame of mind, thinking as opposed to merely reacting, she would've recognized that this zombie-of-a-professor could not be, by any means, a product of her unearthing. For one, the thill's 'orchestra' had been quiet and had hardly disturbed even the flies that rested on the still stones of the graveyard. More importantly, however, the her playing had been fumbled and awkward. Had she been situated betwixt fresher graves, she would've probably caused a bone or two to twitch. She might've even caused some newly dead to recall the final moments of their lives. But she'd played in one of the Watani's oldest graveyards. And that was far enough from the university to avoid any unexpected arrivals... like she thought Kazul to be. Yet, as a young and ever precautious necromancer trying her own on a set of borrowed pipes, Nyym was unfortunately not at any advantage to think that oh, perchance this fella's asleep. The arden moved sluggishly down the staircase with the same bumbling awkwardness common to the deceased -- plopping mindlessly along the cold, hard stairs without so much as a wince or retort of pain. What pain did the dead feel? At the stage of death she'd summoned from this fellow, he likely felt none. It sure as Fronna seemed so. A gust of wind of seemingly no origin blasted through the stairwell and prompted Nyym to concentrate. If it was a product of a soon-arriving-student then she could waste no further time. Worse, it could be another professor. Clasping the pipes in one hand, Nyym brought the set up to her lips and let the ebony pair rest on the third smallest of the seven, Kibeth. With her eyes closed she blew a shaky note forward. In her defence, she was nervous. Although, really, with such bloodlines such as her's, the mistake was inexcusable. Trying again, she blew, and this time the sound was smooth and pierced the air with a resonance that could only be of magic. Known as the "Walker", Kibeth controlled the movements of the death according to the will of the possessing necromancer. So when the Anubi yielded her hand, left palm upward with thumb and fingers signalling 'come hither' Kazul should've moved in her direction. The arcane markings, really runes, tattooed into the flesh of her wrists underside should've glowed like neon blood beneath the skin. Only the alabaster arden did not seem to break immediately in her direction and nor did the runes break out in star-mocking scintillation. She screwed her face up in an expression typical of her age: 'What gives?'
As delirious of his state of wakeful dreaming left him too be, part of the white arden’s mind was still very much in reality. He felt, heard, smelt any of the real life occurrences and his brain gave them a reason to be in his dream land. But to find an explanation for a musical sound, a wistful chiming, was hard to do. Which was why the sound that reached his ears exactly as it sounded for its creator. A slight pause and a twitch of his ears were his only reaction to the chime. It was unnatural to his ears, bringing froth an old children’s story about an old thill who wondered the marsh land looking for her lost children, singing all the while, meant to direct the children home. The story went that any lost children would do, she would then lure them further into the marsh to replace her long lost infants. Now, Kazul knew he wasn’t child, and in which sense he should not be frighten by such faery tales, but he couldn’t help but try to peer through the thick fog for any sign of life. There! That shadowy form. Was it a pendragon, a bog creature, or – what he truly hoped it wasn’t – a ghost? The telepath new lost spirits, he spent lots of time looking for them himself, but from past experiences, they weren't the best for company. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but if anything he wanted it to lie flat, as flat as it could so that he would look much smaller to avoid being seen. But it was probably too late for that, the dead mother spirit wanted her children back and was willing to settle with him. He was unaware of the choice his body had made until he was half way down the hall, running at an awkward pace, dodging mud puddles that were really not there. By this time he had passed by the confused Anubi in the hall, still unsure about her actual existence, but feeling some urge to move away from this particular hallway.
A profanity of Ramathian descent was exhaled in the wake of useless incantations. Nyym was not only upset at being shoved aside by the dead-walker, she was pissed at having been unable to retain him with her skill. While she was not the most adept of necromancers, she was still one of the most talented thills of her trade, and controlling a spirit as simple as a dead-walker should've been one hell of an easy task. There were a couple freak scenarios that she could think of that would've resulted in her failure: 1. The professor had somehow slipped through a portal under her nose. This was unlikely unless the portal belonged to someone else. But Nyym had been in the area all evening and had not felt any sort of uneasy interruption in power. Even the most high-ranking of necromancers would have a hard time concealing their work with a subject that powerful. 2. The professor had been called in at a time or a place in which she was not present. In that case, this was someone else's mess to clean up. 3. The professor was not dead at all. Nyym was either experiencing a lapse in conscious, rational thought or he was. It was more the desire to know what was happening than the desire to act as a good civilian that drove the thill to do what she did next. She had little care as to whether or not the dead-walker did harm unto innocents that night. It happened all the time. She wanted to know what this body was up to and how she could tame it. Mayhaps it would lead her to its creator! With the pipes quickly returned to their case, the thill chased after the escapee professor. Being rather athletic, she had confidence that the chase would not last long. But who knew?
ooc: Reply is coming! Either Hallowe'en weekend or the following! Just making sure this doesn't get archived just yet. Post added; 12/20/09 Footsteps! Were those the sounds of footsteps in the shallow water behind him? Yes, he was sure that they were, spurring him to try and move even faster through the thick fog. Old thill didn't move with that much speed, these sounded like the footsteps of a hunter. His heart was racing as he plowed through the muck, picking up speed as he found some more solid ground in his dream land. He somehow made it around the next corner, avoiding a few lockers that lined the wall. But there, in his dream's eye, he saw an crevice between two trees. He looked over his shoulder and unable to see his pursuer or any other living thing he crept towards the line of trees/lockers, guesstimating how much room their was between the trucks. Afraid that he was running out of time he pushed himself into the hiding place, trying to make himself as least noticeable as he could. Having found one open locker Kazul had pushed himself inside of it, however not understanding that it was indeed a locked that he was hiding it, he had left the door open. He sunk halfway down into the locker, but his body size wouldn't let him sink any lower. Turning and looking into his mentally created swamp land it looked like the fog was starting to clear. Maybe he would soon be able to travel while not half blind. Or maybe he was just on his way to waking up.
Nyym's face contorted into a contemptuous expression as she watched the possessed teacher move, cumbersomely, through the deserted hallway. As if the thought of his disgrace was bile to her mouth, she kept up that disgruntled smirk as she tread ever-so-carefully in his direction, careful not to make too much noise or to walk at a pace and weight that suggested a hunt, a search. Still, she was dressed for the weather and thus her heavily-booted feet eliminated all chances of predatory silence. Clop, clop, clop… Her eyes grazed the scene, back and forth, their bright glow like little search-lights on a cold night. They crept into the dark crannies and nooks until eventually they landed themselves, with delight, on the crumpled form of Kazul, the crazy. ‘What the hell is he doing?’ It then came upon her that this being was not any sort of reanimated dead, possessed by another’s will. His actions were too independent, too undirected, too ridiculous to point to any sort of other party’s devilish intentions. Instead, they were product of his own will. He was possessed by none other than himself. What a fool. Prompted by this realization, and also forgetting the probable threat Kazul could still pose to her, Nyym advanced upon his retreating form without the slightest inkling of hesitation. No longer was he mysterious and worthy of stalking, his status had quickly eroded to become something of a fool in her mind. She had to wake him out of his stupor regardless of what effort it might take – looking into the face of shame wasn’t Nyym’s favourite activity (even if the shame wasn’t even her own), and this arden was likely going to bring himself to full-fledged embarrassment if he didn’t wake up soon enough. Kneeling down carefully, the thill extended one nimble hand and struck the teacher across the cheek. Just in case, though, he chose to retaliate, she stepped back.
Being between the two metal falls his hearing was reduced, the encroaching footsteps were barely a whisper in his ears. His white eyes moved in a panic frenzy, seeing shadows in the dark. A whispy figure appeared before him and at that instant he due it was over, the cat had found the mouse. Before he could even flinch, he felt himself be struck across the face. The pain acted as an electrical shot, the images flashes in front of his face like someone flashes through every channel on a television set, unable to find a desired program. Unable to find a desired reality. Images of the past and future, of the living and the dead, of his dream and of his truth and with one last flick, the reality that stood before him. Seeing Nyym standing in front of him he gave a short startled cry that echoed down the hall before fading into the night. "Vaak!" He looked himself up and down. Cloths, check, good sign. But why couldn't he move? Looking up to find himself in a metal cage Kazul wiggled forward to free himself from the locker. Half falling, half stumbling as he felt the pressure leave his arms and hips. "Vaak, vaak, vaak." He continued not so loudly as the first, knowing full well what had happened. He finally focused once again on the thill standing in front of him, he pulled at his night shirt to try and straighten it out. Okay, so he wasn't sure completely about that part. "Ahh...I - um." He trailed off, not sure if he should be making out an elaborate lie or if it would be better to just run away and never talk about it again. ooc: I'm sorry if you've lost complete interest in this thread due to my slow replies D: If so you may let it die.
OUTOFCHARACTER: [blockquote]I'm in if you're in (: Sorry if this is a little short. Short = faster though, nu?[/blockquote] INCHARACTER: [blockquote]Nyym's eyes followed the teacher closely, glimmering with amusement and fascination. By the way he conducted himself she assumed that he'd undergone this sort of experience quite often. But what was less clear was whether he had complete recollection of the event. In the seat of her thought played a number of little schemes meant for her benefit. Smirking faintly, the Anubi extended a lithe hand. "Would you like to go for a bite to eat?" While it was phrased as a request, Nyym spoke those words with a sharp undercurrent of demand. To cushion her sharp words she offered a soft smile as an afterthought. That's what she thought most students would do. She curled a finger from her other hand around her pipe's sling. For a second she'd forgotten they'd existed. But at least now she had some faint lie to work off of. Now only if she could change her appearance without the old kook noticing...[/blockquote]
:D She was speaking to him, indeed she was. Did he know her? What did he do when he was under? His eyes pivoted, looking up and down the hall, there was no one else here, it was probably still late in the evening. Which wasn't really helpful, being seen wondering the halls with a.... dare she be a student?! Relax Kaz. Be cool. Okay not that cool, say something! "Um...sure..." He had no idea what he was doing or what he was getting into. What he did know to be true was that dream walking took a lot out of a dragon. He also didn't know what this Anubi knew, one too many "Wondering the halls at night" could eventually catch up with him. Best to try and stay on top of these problems before they got out of hand. "I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion..." He glanced down at his striped pants.
INCHARACTER: [blockquote]The silence that lingered in the wake of his words was both comical and disconcerting. Was he so burnt out that she'd need to drag his sorry ass to the clinic? No, her moral compass was not acting up. She was more concerned about getting a legal jumble. Not that justice had ever been up the Grader's alley. When Kazul finally spoke he brought up a rather valid point. At first she didn't care, being a student surrounded by all-night joints, but going to one of them with a teacher in a nightie... Well, it was likely to gain attention by the few creepers hanging around at this hour of the night. Her eyes leered down the hallway of the Tstumjet residence. Up ahead she saw many doors to students' rooms, some ajar but the most of them shut. It was too late in the evening to be caring about anyone else's business unless you were one sneaky vaak. Those long ears crooning forward, she surveyed the scene with all senses until she was satisfied that no one would bare witness. Then she swung her focus back onto Kazul. "Alright. We can speak in my room." Before he could protest she grabbed his hand, led him back to the stairwell, up another flight of stairs, and down a long hall of mostly closed doors until they arrived at her room. Her door, unlike most of the student body, was bare of photos or other decoration. Keeping his hand in her's (unless he otherwise protested) she unlocked the door with her spare and then walked in triumphantly. After that final step, she freed him. The Tstumjet residence was once a hospital that had long been converted into a residence but all of its rustic splendor had been maintained. Students often complained that its steel frame beds had also been kept. At the head of the Nyym's bed there was a threadbare wooden table and chair, and to the right long wooden bench sat against a wall-to-wall storage cabinet. On the wall opposite to the door was a grand window (which she'd pulled the covers over) with an excessively large sill, upon which she'd placed a number of tiny houseplants and jewelry. Fitted directly beneath the sill was a small, black fridge. She pulled away the chair from the table and motioned for Kazul to sit on the bench. "My name is Nyymbatta, you are..." She searched her brain. "Reatuf'ba?"[/blockquote]
Nyym's contemplation only served to worry Kazul even more, she was obviously plotting out something. An escape route or a trap, impossible to tell. They had already been lucky that no one had bothered to look out into the hall after his embarrassing yelp. Her snap decision caught him off guard and before he knew it he was being dragged down halls and up stairs until stopping in front of what must be her room. Marking her for certain as a student. He was coherent enough to piece together where on campus he was, then deduce a student wing by the numbers on the doors. Obviously certain parts of his brain were still working. He couldn't say the same for his body. His muscle were already stiff as he moved awkwardly was being pulled down the hall. Nearly tripping over every second stair like someone who had forgotten the proper way to walk. Overall he felt like a bumbling idiot, almost happy to have the direction given through the rug on his arm. Entering the room Kazul scanned the walls, taking notes as a scientist would, small plants and jewelry seemed to be the only trinkets to hint at who this thill was. Simplicity seemed to be the theme. He walked across the room and took a seat in the directed chair. His mind sprang to life when she named him, not so much when she identified herself. He convinced himself that being a teacher meant he was known by many students throughout the school, it wouldn't be strange for one of them to know his name. "Yes, that would me I." Was it time to lay down his cards and fold? Plead insanity and hope for bail? "I'd like to apologize for the inconveniences I have caused you tonight." He put his elbow on the table, paw to his face, rubbing the old multicolored scars along his jaw. A feeling worse then a hangover was probably going to kick in somewhere in the next 28 fues. "You see I was..." - don't say lost you fool, you're a teacher for Fronna's sake!
