Hostess

*AFFILIATION: NONPARTISAN*
DESCRIPTION: An overseer of the dead, Hostess is the guardian of fallen imperials, tirelessly watching over and protecting their eternal slumber from the threat of becoming an Emperor. Hostess is a friend to those who respect and do not disturb the dead, and an enemy to any who seek to tamper with them.
When an intruder inevitably does arrive to her cemetery, she will first silently regard them to determine their intentions. If she finds the intruder to be a threat, she will quickly dispatch them- encasing them in a prison of ice to be preserved safely for all eternity...


My art!
——-

Trespassers were not welcome here.

A musky scent cling to the air, saturating the already sweltering morning. A small, dark skydancer clambered over the rocky bluff, scanning the torn horizon. Dark, almost black scorched earth tattered the field below him. He had finally made it.

He had been traveling for quite some time, searching for this secretive place. Large mounds of earth littered the valley below him, vast and silent, stretching for miles into the quiet nothingness of the canyon. Carefully, the dragon made his way down from the cliff.

The Imperials has done a good job at hiding this place, the vast resting place of hundreds of their kin lying peacefully beneath the soil. Due to the unfortunate possibility of the creation of an Emperor, in recent decades Imperials had sought to more carefully dispose of their kin- bringing their bodies to secluded resting places like these where the fallen could be tended to and monitored. Highly secretive, these graveyards were throughly forbidden to outsiders- those who could knowingly or unknowingly tamper with those resting deep beneath the earth.

Not secretive enough, in this case. It had only taken a few threats and a hostage or two to acquire the knowledge of this place. The skydancer grinned- his ultimate project would soon begin, his chance to test his necromantic power.

Something caught the edge of his vision, a dark shadow seemed to shift. Alarmed, the skydancer spun around and hastily regarded his surroundings. Silence. There was nothing, nothing except the mountains of dark graves lying before him, with stretches of jet black shade created by the sun.
It was nothing, there was no one.

Carefully, he approached one of the mounds, examining its contents. The ground was surprisingly cool, despite the intensity of the sun. The soil of the mound seemed to be frozen and fixed in place, an unnatural occurrence. The skydancer was immediately hit by a fresh wave of uneasiness, but then shook it off. The area seemed to be abandoned, and few traveled here without purpose to prevent attracting attention to this place.

He sighed. It would be quite the project to unearth and combine the dead, as each mound was intentionally designed to prevent the creation of the Emperor monstrosities. But he was patient. He edged closer to the mound, preparing to use his magic to remove the corpse laying within. He began to cast-

His world went dark.

The shadow which had been regarding him, hidden by the darkness of the quarry, had emerged. A sea of blackness enveloped the sky above him. Crying out, the skydancer backed off, trying to determine what was happening. The earth shook beneath him, and the scorching sun seemed to have vanished beneath the pitch form. Then, light pierced through the blackness once more, and all the blood in his body seemed to turn to ice.

Before him, a great imperial stood. A body of night itself. Her colossal form stood between the skydancer and the mound- the overseer of the dead. Vast, silent, and cold- the hostess of the quarry and the banisher of the uninvited. The last defender of the cursed dead.

He rounded, bolting back to the entrance of the quarry. The ground quaked as he fled, causing him to haphazardly stumble amongst the rocks. He felt the soil beneath his claw grow chill, the musk in the air crystallizing. He was slowing down, and the dark hostess was steadily gaining on him, threatening to overtake him. Every step stung, every breath labored.

It was too much, he couldn’t run any more- his very joints seemed to be fixed in place.
A chill washed over him, and he felt his body turn as heavy as stone. Darkness and red light consumed his vision, as a deep cold set into his bones...

“You can run but you cannot be saved. Darkness brings evil things, the reckoning begins... You have opened the yawning grave.”

Trespassers were not welcome here.