Closed [Gug Andjak]Pass or Fail and Undeath or Death[Pandaemus]

[Clyde Sullins]

10 Summer 514 Upon entering the lab Clyde noticed several things at once. The set up was clearly purposeful, laid out in a specific well used pattern, each instance for a certain reason. There were two metal lab tables with a body on them, with their heads in the center of the room and the tables a few feet apart. Hands were strapped above their hands near the top of the table, and feet were strapped on the other end about shoulder length apart. However one body was dead, possibly freshly so since there was no sign of decay or rotting, and the other body was still alive and breathing. Clyde had heard that an Animator was attempting the Daek-Nuit, a ritual that allowed the strongest of Animators to turn a person into a nuit by instilling their soul into a fresh body. He was not certain exactly how that worked, but looking at it he saw many similarities between how lower level animation was done. The living person strapped to the table was a low level mage, perhaps wanting to bring himself higher in rank by undergoing the ritual and becoming a nuit. Fear was clear in his eyes, but he did not fight at his bonds. After all, he had volunteered, and the bindings were more of a precaution than a necessity. He was a human male, on the thin side, with sandy colored hair like straw, and nothing covering his decency. The dead body was vaguely similar in size, though he had brown hair. But he was clothed similarly, and had a similar gaunt look of a hungry man. Looking about at those not strapped to a table, Clyde noted another human man standing next to the living human. He was calmly standing by holding a dagger in both hands, his gaze flicking from the human on the table to a nuit across the room. The nuit was clearly in charge, wearing fine robes and wearing a fresh and well kept body. He gazed about at the various things in the room, the dead body, the living one, his preparations for the ritual, and a third table that held various writing supplies. Looking down Clyde noted the large circles of power surrounding the tables, that of the source and destination for the soul. Besides that were various nuit about the room, ready to watch the ritual. Besides the human on the table, and the one with the dagger, Clyde appeared to be the only living being in the room. Of course considering what was about to occur, perhaps this was an event that appealed more to nuit than the living.

[Pandaemus]

As an apprentice animator in Lab 15, Pan was privy to all the ill informed rumor mongering that surrounded the Animation department of Sahova. Lab 15 was a big place, and he had overheard some apprentices muttering eagerly, pulsers of course, about some wizard with his own private lab attempting a grab at the prestige that went along with performing the infamous Daek-nuit. As an animator, as a Nuit, Pan had decided he needed to be there.

Now Pan stood in the lab surrounded by much more qualified wizards. At least his status as a Nuit had helped a bit in getting him there. He hoped to remain unobtrusive for the entire spectacle as to not draw too much attention to himself. Academically, this was quite an opportunity for the apprentice to see what his chosen art could aspire to. Most animators saw the Daek-nuit as a milestone that meant they had reached the full potential as an animator. He could see the craft performed at the highest level, with the competence to handle that level of heavy handed magic. He had, at first, thought about bringing some parchment and a quill to take notes. But he would, most assuredly, be kicked out of the room if he was seen scratching away at parchment while a master was at work weaving djed into a prospective Nuit.

Looking down at the artfully glyphed animation circles now, he thought he would almost have taken the chance. The complexity of those animation circles were far beyond his comprehension, and Pan knew it. His animation was a sand castle to this Sahovan wizard’s Citadel. Pan was duly humbled by the display.

Something caught his eye at the door. A wizard moving with more spunk than was the norm on Sahova. A pulser had walked in, a young pulser. Granted, even with his undeath tacked onto his lifespan, Pan was probably still the youngest in the room. But this human was, as far as he could see, an observer. The only other humans in the room were part of the ritual. Clearly this wizard was someone of note. He was, at least, the most spritely of the room’s occupants.

Pan rubbed at the pale skin of his corpse-body. Amongst this crowd of corpses he was just another, but it the presence of a live man, he was little more than a corpse again. Pan shifted his weight, distressed internally. Recently he had taken to observing pulsers from a father distance, generally with a sour gaze. Having this successful, living wizard so close made him feel unwelcome emotion. It seeped through him like a parasite through the cracked, stretched skin or a recent cadaver. Emotion cracked across his face for the first time in days. The pale lips of his corpse-body turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed.

[Clyde Sullins]

As usual Clyde clutched Cha in his hand. She was ever present at his side, in his hand, five feet of blue wood from the Konti Isle shaped into a staff. At this point Clyde barely even noticed he was holding it, though he did occasionally rub his hand along its fleshy outer layer, familiarizing himself with its touch and texture. Looking about at the nuit, he saw their eyes. Most were focused on the procedure about to occur. A few glanced at him in passing but without interest, moving their eyesight onward. One though paused for a moment, as if he was actually seeing him and was interested. At least interested as compared to the other nuit hanging about. As Clyde thought about this he finally saw motion coming from the nuit Clyde had identified earlier as being in charge. He had taken out a sharp implement, its glint in the torch light had caught his eye. With a slow measured motion the nuit pressed the tip of the implement into his palm, and then turned over his hand. A single drop of ichor beaded and fell. The nuit frowned, apparently having missed, and waited for a second drop to fall. This drop of ichor was on target, and landed on the animation circle. As it did, a light tingle went across the back of Clyde's neck, gone almost as soon as it was there. Another nuit stepped forward, and quickly bandaged the first nuits hand, surely more for the fact of stopping to much ichor from coming out than the reasons such an action would be done on a living person. Still, this marked the first step of the process, the starting of animation. So far nothing was happening, but the lead nuit made a hand motion, and the human standing with the blade prepared himself, holding it above the human on the table. With a two handed grip he held it above the man's chest, looking for some spot that was correct. After a moment of moving about near the left half of his chest Clyde realized he was aiming for the heart. He did not bring the blade down yet, but once he found the spot he paused and held still. A hush had fell across the room at the nuits hand motion, something Clyde was only just noticing. Clearly everyone was waiting, the main event so close to occurring... Finally the nuit made another hand motion, his eyes closed, concentrating on something the others could not see. As he made the motion, the human dropped the blade, sinking it directly into the mans chest in a well practiced and precise motion, stabbing him right through the heart. As he did, Clyde felt a prickle across his skin, much stronger than earlier.

[Pandaemus]

.

Pan watched the ichor drip from dead flesh, igniting the ancient power of the ritual. The life-blood of the Animator was the key that opened the door to crafting life, whether it be blood or ichor. Pan could follow the basic steps of the Daek-nuit loosely thanks to his background in the craft. But for the most part such powerful magic was lost on him. But that was why he was standing here, watching. Learning if he was lucky.

But the tension continued to build in the room. They all knew that the moment that meant there was no retreat was coming. Pan’s dead eyes drifted from the animator to the assistant holding the dagger over the man’s chest. It was such a gamble to attempt immortality this way, rather than the conventional method. Looking at the human strapped to the table, Pan wondered what had made him do this. Was he a willing volunteer? Did he owe the Animator a debt? Was he picked at random from the Animator’s apprentices?

Pan watched the blade descend. Orange danced across the steel edge just before it penetrated the flesh. Unyielding, the blade slid into the man’s heart. Blood oozed, fresh and warm and red, from the wound. Pan could almost taste the iron in the air. He could almost feel the life slipping away. But it wasn’t slipping away. Right now the Animator was pushing the soul through the animation circles and into the new host body. Hopefully…

Pan turned his attention back to the Master Animator. The Nuit seemed confident, his face portraying little more than an intense concentration. But to shift a real soul from one body to another must be one of the most mentally taxing exercises. Thoughts of his own minor animations drifted through the apprentice animator’s mind as he wondered at the difference between such mundane animation and the supreme ritual he was now witness to. It was becoming ever more simplistic to mimic the basic functionality of a soul. A sensation, a reaction, a task completed. But to experience another’s soul, and transfer its essence in entirety was humbling to imagine.

He glanced around the room and wondered if any of those gathered here were skilled enough to perform such a top tier animation. But Pan was wary of keeping his eyes from the ritual, lest he miss something important, so he turned his gaze back to the Animator and his subject.

.

[Clyde Sullins]

As the blade descended, the ritual entered its final step. Unlike many other magics Animation was not flashy, and there was little visible for them to see. Concentration was clear on the animator in charge of the ritual. Once the blade descended that human became irrelevant, and took a step back. Clyde watched the head of the ritual, the person on the slab, and the other nuits about him. They all seemed deeply focused on the events occurring, some focused on the surely dead human, and the dead body said human would soon occupy. Others focused more on the one doing the ritual. Regardless, the nuits focused on the subject almost uniformly, all with the same unblinking gaze. Feeling a bit isolated amongst the dead, Clyde clutched a bit tighter to Cha, and continued to watch. Suddenly there was movement, the dead body where the soul was being moved into twitched. A finger moved for a moment, a small enough motion that it might be a trick of the eye. Then a toe twitched. Then stillness. However this was interrupted when a grunt came out of the nuit performing the exchange, and he suddenly fell to his knees. Clyde was unsure if this was due to the strain of the ritual, or some other more symbolic motion, but it was soon clear that something had happened. One of the nuit off to the side glared at the nuit in charge, then gave a look at the dead bodies, and then without a word turned and left the room. The nuit in charge that had fallen to his knees did not meet his gaze, instead looking down at the ground before him that was covered in animation circles. After the first nuit left, many of the others seemed to take that as a cue that they should do likewise. Suddenly the undead were all in a hurry, in a hurry to distance themselves from this clearly failed experiment. Clyde looked at the nuit still staring down, wondering what he was more sad about, the loss of life, or his failure. Clyde was fairly certain it was the latter. Trying to keep at least some tact by not asking the nuit in charge, Clyde leaned a bit closer to one of the nuit that had yet to flee, and spoke under his breath. “So... Did it not work? What now? I suppose that means its over?”

[Pandaemus]

.

Pan felt a jolt of ugly fear as the new host moved, ever so slightly. He knew that this was the beginning of something great for the soul partaking in the Daek-nuit. This was the spectacle of the entire ritual. If eternity was achieved here in the next few heartbeats it meant a great accomplishment for the presiding wizard, and if not it meant total death for the victim. Pan felt himself lean in slightly as he watched the body more intently. But the form had ceased moving, forever.

Pan moved his attention from the corpse, so enwrapped in the suspense that he had forgotten about the wizard performing the ritual. The Nuit was on his knees, thin shoulders slouched in defeat. He had failed, and committed murder. There were no real qualms about such things as the loss of life on Sahova. But when it came coupled with failure in a ritual so old and entwined in Nuit lore that everyone of the undead present felt some bit of the ramifications of the wizard’s failure now.

Pan stood, paralyzed by the shock of watching the process by which he existed fail. The corpses, one cold and immobile, the other cooling and bloody, were both little more than pounds of meat now. It would probably be a long time before the presiding wizard would gain the confidence to attempt such an ambitious bit of animation again. He was shook free from his internal horror by words spoken near him.

“So… Did it not work? What now? I suppose that means it’s over?” Pan turned to see the human observer was the speaker. Pan frowned at the man, a conscious muscle movement that went along with his jealous dislike. But the jealousy had ebbed away. Where before the human seemed to be a thriving beacon of life that made the rest of the room look all the more dead, now Pan was one of those cold immortals who didn’t have to worry about failed Daek-nuit rituals or the advance of time. He would never have to sit under a dagger, hoping the wizard entrusted with his life was competent enough to succeed.

“No, it did not work. The…volunteer is dead for good now, no more than a corpse.” Pan stated the fact with hesitant harshness. He was upset be the failure, as would any Nuit be. But, he didn’t want to offend the animator who had failed. It was a challenging bit of magic to say the least. Pan was no where near learned enough to begin to study it.

“It’s a shame though. It would have been a good bit of magic.” He muttered as he left the room and motioned for Clyde to leave the animator alone with his failure.
 

.

[Clyde Sullins]

One of the few remaining Nuits, the one that Clyde had questioned, turned and frowned at Clyde. “No, it did not work. The…volunteer is dead for good now, no more than a corpse.” Clyde nodded. It was more or less what he had thought, that it had failed, and that the man was dead and not nuitified. After all, with how the director of the animation work had reacted... Clearly it was a difficult bit of Animation, no less than his own work in Anti-magic, though in a different way. So clearly either the animator had attempted a magic beyond his ken, or he had simply been unfortunate in his attempt. It was hard to say. “It’s a shame though. It would have been a good bit of magic.” Following along with the nuit as he motioned for them to leave the room, Clyde let out a sigh and headed out. Once they were were outside of earshot, he would speak to the nuit, still looking forward and simply speaking as they walked. “That's more or less what I figured. Sad, seeing something like that not work out, both for the person being turned nuit, and for the one working the magic. Sad. I've dabbled before in animation, so I know a bit of how tricky it can be. I can only imagine how hard it is to attempt such a thing with a living person, transferring a full soul and not simply copying bits of one and creating added bits.” Pausing for a moment, Clyde turned to the nuit. “Ah, I am Clyde, I'm an apprentice specializing in Magecrafting. And you?”

[Pandaemus]

.

 

Pan’s attention was captured by the human’s words on animation. How much did he really know, Pan wondered. Pulsers needed to possess more than passing knowledge of magic to survive on the island. But perhaps this particular pulser seemed to have other specialties. Pan was under the impression he was very learned indeed, judging by the robes he wore and the staff he was bearing. How had a pulser managed to acquire access to a Daek-nuit ritual without being the subject? It was, as Pandaemus understood it, a well guarded event in the Sahovan society.

“I am called Pandaemus, an apprentice animator here.” Pan neither offered his hand nor looked over at the wizard as they both wandered down the corridor. “I had hoped to glean some lesson from this whole debacle.” His words, dusty and dry as they were, held bitter regret. It was not often that such an opportunity presented itself at his feet. What was more, Cid had let him attend. No doubt it has been a gesture to correlate with Cid’s newfound interest in Pandaemus’ development.

Pan wondered for a moment how many of the would be wizards in the Randjaqabase Cid took such an interest in. Sensing, with some decrepit ghost of his past humanity, the awkward silence between them, Pan spoke again. “I suppose it did reinforce the dangers of such an undertaking without the proper training and preparation.” Pan paused to adjust his cloak about his shoulders. “A lesson I am glad to have learned from an exterior source, as I do not plan on making a similar embarrassment of myself.”

Pan was unsure where the two of them were headed, but he slid into the staircase at the end of the hallway and began to descended. Perhaps the pulser was good for an intelligent conversation. If not he would beg leave for work. The gods knew he was not lacking for it, his desk down in Randjaqabase cluttered with ongoing projects. “It’s a shame we lost a wizard though, even if he was a pulser.”

Pandaemus had let the comment slip inadvertently. He stopped speaking, wondering momentarily if he had given offense. He was not overly concerned with making impressions. On Sahova such things as social dynamics were dictated by ambition and ability rather than politeness. And it was no secret the Sahovan wizards valued the living less than the undead.

.

oocSorry about the frequent box code changes ^^ I hope it doesn't throw you off in any way.

[Clyde Sullins]

For a moment Clyde's mind wandered, thinking back about magic, of his mentioning of his dabbling. Purely number wise, he knew more different world magics than personal ones. Most of his initiations had odd and unique stories to them. For instance he had learned Animation from a nuit in Ravok, in exchange for something or other. Possibly a lesson in Glyphing, unless he recalled it wrong. But while much of his strengths laid in world magics, he was still at his heart a Reimancer, a mage, a bender and controller of the natural elements. “I am called Pandaemus, an apprentice animator here.” Clyde's attention faded back to the current situation, to the conversation with the nuit before him apparently named Pandaemus. Him being a Antimator made sense, since after all what they'd just seen was the epitome more or less of a Animator's ability. At least when it worked, which it had not at this particular moment. “I had hoped to glean some lesson from this whole debacle.” Clyde nodded. As an apprentice in Animation, he had likely been excited by the idea of witnessing a Daek-Nuit. Know they both knew how it was done, the process, but they had not seen it performed correctly. Only seen the steps, seen of the Daek-Nuit in and of itself, but not the imperceptible things only the Animator doing it could see. He doubted this would have been any different if it had been a success. Some things you simply had to do to truly understand. So while he knew of the Daek-Nuit, he did not truly know it. Clyde himself had less invested. He was not a nuit, not a professional Animator. His interest in it was more of a side note, a curiosity, not something directly tied to his work or craft. He doubted he would ever have the time to focus on Animation and bring his skill in it to a respectable level. But regardless he knew enough of it to understand it and its ways and terms, even if he would never achieve its peaks. “I suppose it did reinforce the dangers of such an undertaking without the proper training and preparation.” “A lesson I am glad to have learned from an exterior source, as I do not plan on making a similar embarrassment of myself.” Clyde nodded. He was uncertain how much preparation had gone into this showing, how many times he had attempted it on lesser souls, perhaps transferring the soul of an animal into a fresh carcass, or something of the sort. But surely he had done his due diligence, and would not have risked a life unless he had thought he would succeed, and had become successful at lesser instances of the Daek-Nuit's power. As he continued on in a free manner, perhaps becoming comfortable with Clyde, he spoke on with something that made Clyde pause for a moment and turn to the nuit. “It’s a shame we lost a wizard though, even if he was a pulser.” Clyde did not frown or retort in anger, instead a small somewhat false smile crossed his lips, as he faced the nuit. “Yes, quite... Though I'd say its sad that any wizard was lost, or any life, whether pulser or undead. A life is a life. A soul freed from its body. I wonder if perhaps it will become a ghost now, a tormented soul freed from its physical shell. I don't know as much as I'd like about how that process works, but from the ghosts I've met many seem a bit unstable. And being the result of a miscast spell, surely that would be a sad enough event, particularly in a attempt at reaching immortality.” Clyde paused for a moment, walking on, eying the nearest empty lab, and making his way towards it. “And what soul would cling to any form of life greater than one already attempting immortality by becoming a nuit. A bit ironic I suppose, that one should in an attempt to live forever, end up as an entirely different form of undead, though an incorporeal one.” As he walked Cha would occasionally tap upon the stone ground of the passageway, the sound of wood on stone thunking nicely. As always the vibrant blue color of Cha laid in stark contrast to the solitary color of the stone. Now inside of the lab, Clyde paused and turned to the nuit. “Ah, I've also dabbled a bit in spiritism. More so than I have in Animation. In comparison to the few drips of skill I have in it, I have several dollops of it in Spiritism. It's a useful skill for when one runs into ghosts.” Clyde paused for another moment, absentmindedly feeling the smooth finish of Cha, rubbing against her skin. “You know... Do you think if a nuit was to die, would it possibly become a ghost? I've never heard of a ghost that was once a nuit...”