Player: Josh Drury
ICQ: 96659514
Mors Nocturnia
Description: Lt. Masterson walked back to his tent, with his head hanging low. He knew sleep was impossible here out in the edges of the magic zone. Of course his betters thought this would teach the young upstart maners. "Well it wont work." Lt. Masterson thought as he neared his tent. "They think they know so much. I've been out here 3 weeks and only 2 days left until pick up. Demons, ha. They know better than to attack a full equiped Chi Town Commando squad. Havent see nothing. Probally wont. Nobody likes to fight in the winter anyway. To cold, even for those witches. Oh, but dear Lord. Just give me one. Just one chance to blow one of devil lovers head off. Heh, this ole laser pistol is all I need."
As Lt. Masterson opened his tent flap, dreaming of glories on the field. A stench of roting flesh and human waste, greated him at the door. He stumbled back a step, reeling from the stench. "Srg. Baker. What in the Great Prozec's name are you doing in here." he asked the darkness in the tent. Lt. Masterson activated his night sight in his eyes. They showed Srg. Baker slowly geting out of his cot and trying to stand in his Dead boy armor. "Sergeant." he said. " Are you ok? Whats happend?" The Sergeant stood up and said "help me. Something bit me. Some snake. Something bit........" as he walked over to the LT. Lt. Masterson got reached for his med kit on his left leg and reached out for Srg. Bakers arm.
With inhuman speed Srg. Baker clasps both hands around Lt. Masterson neck. Quickly the pressure from Srg. Bakers cold hands cut of all air to Lt. Masterson's throat and Lungs. The Lt. Struggled, and fought with all his might. He dropped to knees in a attempt to break the sergeant arms, like he had been taught in his personal defense classes. The resounding crunch as the sergeants arm were twisted in an odd angle was all the LT. needed to know he was successful in his manuever. But the sergeant's did not release.
In fact it was as tight as ever and increasing pressure. The LT. could feel the life slowly leaving his body, and he was slowly passing out. Just before dieing, he noticed that Srg. Baker had no eyes and the stench was coming from a hole in his side. Were a hole had been blasted out of him and left only dead flesh. The LT. screamed, but no one heard him.
Just as the moon had reached its zenith. A gaunt figure steps out from the shadows of the LT's tent. 10 dead Collation soldiers walked the grounds. Looking for any stragglers. The pale figure looked to have been many ages old. But the bluish moon light reflected of the figures eyes, showed they was much younger than they should be. A single tear slowly flowed out of his eye and down his cheek. Then wind picked up and blew his long raven hair. Whipping it like an old tattered flag. He looked at the moon, taking in all of its beauty and splendor. His cold blue eyes has seen to much tonight. And it will be day soon. He collected the ID tags off the soldiers. And with a simple gesture the walking dead started buring them selves. "If only I could bury the past so easily. To forget. To never have lived.", he thought to himself. With clarity of mind, he drifts to a time when life. Yes, life. Meant something.
*********"Paul! Paul get inside now! It's time for your studies!" a black haired woman. Whose beauty could have won the heart of any man she wanted and broke any she didn't. Called out from a small farm house. The house wasnt to bad. Pretty well off for those who lived so close the reknown Hell's Gate. Some place once called Louisville. At least that is what the old folks and the those magic weilders had said. She didnt pay attention to it.
It didnt matter anyway. She has lived here her whole life. Her family has been here as far back as they can trace family. "Paul! I said get in here" she yells. Just as a young lad of 7 or 8 runs into the house. He has short deep black hair like his mothers, but the brighest blue eyes of his father. Who was said to have some faerie blood in him.
"How are you supposed to get into that college. If you dont study." she askes the boy."You keep talking of being the badest and the best wizard out there. And yet you cant even sit down for 5 mins reading." The boy just drags his feet over to a small desk in the corner of the living room. A book with some mixture of languages and magical studies sits at the desk. "Now paul, if you pass this test tomorrow. I just might have enough black berries to make you pie." she says. The boy's eyes glimer and he sits down studing as hard as he can. But mainly dreaming of green pastures and rolling hills he wants to play in so much.
Just as he finally gets focused and starts reading. The boy heard a sound he had never heard before. It sounded like some weird scream. The boy was hearing a Coalition jet bikes. His mother ran out side. He headed out to see what all the comotion was. "Hey, maybe its another fire show like that mage from kinle brook was doing last year." he was thinking. Running out into the street. He watched as men dressed in black armor strode into town.
"Wow!", he thought. "these people look cool." His mother started crying and grabbed his hand holding him behind her. The few spell casters in the town started chanting words of protection. They did no good. The black soldiers opened fire on all the towns people. Energy ripped from above and below it seemed like. Cutting people in half or just vaporizing them were stood leaving just a shadow left. The boy had been knocked down by his mother as she was shot and fell on him. There he stayed it seemed like eternity before night came and someone pulled her off him. He was crying and covered with his own mothers blood. He had watched death claim her and had been forced to stare into her dead eyes all day. Crying and wiping tears away. He looked up into the eyes of a young woman. She wasnt as pretty as his mother had been, but she was pretty in her own way. Her long blond hair touched his head. He jumped into her arms and cried until he couldnt cry no more. "Dont worry." she said. "Nothing will happen to you again. I promise. I will take very good care of your body." He stoped crying then. Something inside of him screamed danger. He looked up into her bright blue eyes, just like his. She smiled. Lifted him up. And place a hand on his head. He felt just a little tingle and then his soul was sucked into hell. For life times it seemed he was tortured. His life forced slowly being chewed on by some creature, he come to know as Nxla the harvestor of souls. He knew that life it self had ended.
Finally one day he was pulled out and away from the screaming Nxla. It reached for him, even as he was pulled back to his earthly body. He didnt know how, but some how he knew he was free. With a blink of an eye, he was back in his body. Cold, it was cold. He knew it wasnt the air, but his body that was cold. It had grown a few years older with out him. He slowly rubbed the life back into it and looked around. He was laying in a swamp. The sun was just peeking over the trees and lighting up the dark and wet world below. A man dressed in some form of shimering armor. Was walking around kicking dead bodies. He saw the blond woman laying face first in the water. Her body serval feet away. The boy, ran. He ran as hard as his legs would carry him. He ran and ran. Some one was screaming at him. But he didnt care. He ran until his legs gave out and he fell.
A week later he was in Tolkeen. The man he met was Mike. A cyberknight. Mike had been traking the women for months. She had been stealing children over the years to turn them into souless zombies. For some army of hers. Paul liked Mike. He was like his Father. Strong, funny and knew when to listen. Once in Tolkeen. He was taken to a few healers. Paul was there for 2 years. He was didnt trust most people and he didnt like to be touched. But most healers said that he was lucky to just have his sanity and his soul. "You must know something Mike." the head healer told him. " This boy. Paul. He has a black stain on his soul. It has been warped just ever so much. He is a magic-user. He does have the potental for great power. But, that power it seems. Has been stained. He has a leaning toward the dark arts. I would almost say gifted. But that is no gift. Only a curse. I am afraid it would be best if we just ended his suffering and let him die in peace."
"NO!" Mike said. "He has been trough enough. Just dont let him leave the monestary. Let him heal and learn to be a good healer. I will watch this boy. In fact, I will charge the rest of my life to him. I am getting to old for adventure anyway. And I myself have no family to speak of. I will watch over him."
But Mike didnt know that Paul had already left. Feeling that dark pulling in his soul. He sought out those who knew of such things. He payed for passage to a place called the brass city. He left that morning to learn the arts of necromancy. Were he took on the name. Mors Nocturnia. Death Night.
*********Pulling his cloak around him. He returned to the present as he walked home.
He stopped walking as he noticed a young yellow flower still fighting its way for life. Even in this cold winter. Reaching down, he picked the flower and smelled it. "It takes being dead, to see such life", he thought.
Mors is 5'9 and weights 132 soaking wet. His hair is raven Black and hangs shoulder length. His eyes are a cold grey blue. He wears a black cloak, with a dark grey bushman armor. He usally doesnt wear the helmet, exept when face with inviromental problems. His armor has bones scattered across it. His chest has 2 pairs of arms across it. They look like they are praying. These arms can be animated in times of combat. He likes to use them as a distraction. The upper pair are a Troll set and have a PS of 22 supernatural. His back pack hides a pair of Larg Condor wings. These wings are grafted to his armor and he uses them to fly for short distances. He has couple of hands lining his armor. Such as at the knees, elbow, wrist, ankles and SHoulders. He animates these to also destract oppents or to trap some one who puts there hand on him and he dont want it there. He will sometimes use them as a grapple, to keep some one from getting away from him. There is a black waist length cloth that hangs down over his chest like a tunic or toga. And he keeps a battered old cav hat to keep the rain of. Most peole dont bother him to much. He doesnt smell to good. Depending on how fresh his spell compents are he can smell like a stinking drunk or rotten meat or even rarly a burnt human flesh.