Xorvuxi

Xorvuxi clutched at her flank, barely holding in a scream. The flesh was melting away from the shrapnel. It was white-hot--she could smell bitter poison and her claws burning--but she managed to tear it free and throw it. She tried to stagger upright but collapsed, her muscles spasming until they locked into a fetal position. She grabbed weakly for the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. The pain died away to a dark warmth that pressed itself into the corners of her vision. No. But it wasn’t her choice to make. As her sight faded, her sense of smell grew, until the only thing she knew was the warmth and copper tang of her own blood. No. I’m not going to die here. Not her choice. Darkness, warmth, weight, copper.

And something else.

I know this smell. Faint at first, it grew to eclipse the blood tang. And there was light, and a familiar voice calling out.

“Xorvuxi. I...stones and bones, it's you, isn’t it? No, don’t move. It’s not...you’re not done yet. I’m sorry love. You’re not done yet.”

She tried to call out, but her body wouldn't move.

“You have a job to do, Xorvuxi. You’re blessed. Call it blessed. Not done yet. But why would He...” The voice quieted, and she strained to hear it, grasping for some shred of memory. “Stand up, Xorvuxi.”

Please, I don’t understand! I know you! I don't want to forget, I know you! But if the presence could hear her, it made no sign. “Stand up.”

And in a forgotten corner of a battlefield--without trumpets or starlight, without any fanfare at all--Xorvuxi stood back up.


How long had it been? She couldn't remember, not really. Long enough to lose most of her flesh. She'd wrapped what little remained, baked against the bone by the Dragonhome sun, in fabric she'd bartered from some caravan for another; the wind had taken most of the rest. The jungle had presented a new set of challenges. Most beasts ignored or avoided her, but it seemed plants were happy to grow from any speck of mud that wedged itself in her bones. Felt like every other day she had to clear out half a garden. It'd probably be good eating, if she could still manage that. Ah well. One foot in front of the other, onwards and downwards, deep into the sea of green that--supposedly, unofficially--concealed a clan willing to help.


"Well hey there! Ezekiel, is it? Zach tells me you run this clan. Put 'er here!" The dead thing holds out a paw, then throws back its head and cackles. Its voice is dry and raspy. "Hah nah. You don't gotta. I know my magic messes with yours, right?" Ezekiel tried not to shudder. It was taking everything in him to keep his fins from flaring out to full alarm. And yet, this profoundly wrong thing...no, not thing. Dragon. Xorvuxi. She'd only half pulled her paw back, and her head was tilted a bit. Joking, but not joking. A little tentative, he reached out and shook. If the sensation was strange for him, it had to be worse than her--Nature smothered Earth, after all. But wasn't that why she'd come? Only an opposing element could shift magic of her magnitude back into shape. "Pleasure's all mine, Ezekiel. Hopefully I can figure what I'm lookin for and get out of your hair." And again, with that same dry laugh, she tossed what was left of her mane. So this, he thought, is how a god's power feels.


"Zach, do you think gods forget?"

He lowered his book to look at her. "We'll figure this out, Xi. It's been what, a few years? We're not out of leads."

"Not saying we are. I just wanna know, y'know?"

He sighed and put the book down. "You know I'm the worst drake to ask. But from what little I know of Earthshaker, He doesn't seem like the type. You were brought back for a reason. Maybe he's just taking His sweet time."

She shook her head a bit, pulling the desiccated remains of her tail to her torso. "Sure. Yeah. But I still...I dream of her voice sometimes, y'know?" Zachariah's nodded, face softening a bit. "But she-- the voice, the smell--she doesn't tell me anything bout why I'm here, just, like...I don't get it. If she knew, wouldn't she tell me? Is it even her? Is it just a memory?" Her voice caught, but she recovered. "I'm just, y'know. Tired."

Zachariah rolled upright and plodded over to her, spreading his wing over her exposed spine. "Ah, Xi, I'm sorry. Is it something with your enchantment again, you think?" She slumped into the embrace but shook her head. "Alright." He was quiet for a moment, breathing deep and slow as he considered. "Well, you were there for that talk with Zeke. I was thinking I'd take the full sabbatical in my birth clan, but why not go a bit further afield? Do some sleuthing, see some big rocks, annoy a god or two?"

"Zach..." Her voice, pure spellwork, couldn't be muffled by his mane. "You're way, way too much a softie, you know that? But I've already been all over Dragonhome. There's nothing there."

Her jaw clicked as he shrugged. "Well, yeah, but you didn't have the best necromancer in the Labyrinth with you then, now did you?"

"What about Antirra?"

Zach chuckled. "If you don't mind third wheeling a little, they were...interested...in spending some more time together. A road trip to Dragonhome is a bit of a step, but if they want to come, would you mind?"

"Gods, listen at you. Thought I'd die a second time before hearing that. Course I wouldn't mind." She laughed, the smokey rasp of her voice returning. "Tell 'em it's safe, yeah? They'll have Earthshaker's finest on guard duty." She sat back from him, flexing her forelimbs as if there were still muscles attached. "Nah, yeah, I'll keep you kids safe. You do your nerd thing, they do theirs, share a tent, meet cute..."

Zach cuffed her lightly on the shoulder. "None of that with them, you *ss. But yeah. Sounds good. I'll let them know, pack some food, bother some contacts--"

"No you won't. Them either." She sat back, jaw hanging open in her best mimicry of a smile. "I'll get it all sorted! Food, itinerary, travel, plus some stuff you green folks might not think of--no offense. Just looking forward to showing you kiddos round the place. And I'll put in a good word with Earthshaker, when I'm done slapping Him." She chuckled again, feeling a weight melt off her bones. "I guess I'm going home."

Mysterious Cowl

Apparel

The stranger inside this cowl keeps their head down, their features obscured by shadow.

1000

maybe

She's got an exceedingly macabre sensibility and an unrelentingly amused-yet-pessimistic outlook on unlife. She's technically not a zombie (possibly a dreadwyrm, technically probably a revenant). Doesn't eat brains (or anything else) but will laugh at being asked. Doesn't talk much while she's out and about, but makes up for it as soon as she's in trusted company.

Smarter than a lot of living dragons, and nearly all the dead ones.