Serenity

Forgotten Crown Trinkets A kingdom has forgotten its leaders of ages past. 320

Serenity "How awful for you. Still, it's none of our affair. Unless you have reconsidered?"

Memento Mori Generation 1 Nascentes morimur poised | aloof | shrewd

Memento mori (Latin: "remember that you have to die") is the medieval Latin Christian theory and practice of reflection on mortality, especially as a means of considering the vanity of earthly life and the transient nature of all earthly goods and pursuits. Memento mori has been an important part of ascetic disciplines as a means of perfecting the character by cultivating detachment and other virtues, and by turning the attention towards the immortality of the soul and the afterlife. This curse would be traced down his lineage. All Pilgrim's children were destined to die, like any dragon. But they would be given a second chance. It was up to the children if they would accept the bargain.

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This deep in the caves, the darkness was absolute. She liked it that way.

She had other senses to rely on now, but the utter black made her petitioners uneasy. Even a Mirror's heat-vision would do little good where deep stone and earth kept temperatures steady. Her own body would give nothing away, she knew. Whether from some lingering side effect of her brush with death, or a new Aberrant adaptation, her body would stay cold as the grave down here. There were other advantages as well: the grace and refinement of the Pearlcatcher she had been in the past led too many to try and take advantage of her. She preened her ruff, satisfied, as she waited. Yes, this new form suited her well.

In fact... she cocked her left head, listening. Yes, she could hear her latest petitioner now. "Stop wasting my time you mangy, frostbitten fleabag! There's nothing down here. Now either show me to your master, or take me to someone who will!"

Showtime.

"Not master. Partner." Then, with her second voice: "And you have found us." A faint glow appeared from the black, crystals illuminating, not a crevasse in the cavern wall, but a rent in her flesh. "We do hope," she gloated as her familiar geist padded to her side, "that you intend to show us more respect then that." A glint in the darkness showed where Hunger Pangs' eye reflected her glow, the barest hint of light showing his fangs and lupine grin. "Ah, but we forget; you are in distress. We shall forgive it - this time."

"Am I supposed to think that generous?" the petitioner snarled. "You could have warned me what I was getting into!"

"Yes, we could," she agreed, primly curling her tails around her foreclaws. "But would you have valued such advice? As sure as you were that the domain of such a kindly God could hold no dangers for one hardened to survival in the Lands of Pestilence." "You came to plunder the Cairnstones," she hissed. Both voices now. "Did you think there was naught but skeletons to fear in the land where even the Earth remembers?"

A loud crack echoed through the confines of the caves, and her petitioner flinched. Hunger Pangs had crushed the long bone he kept for gnawing, perfect punctuation. The petitioner's eyes flickered to the edges of the light, where her familiar geist could just barely be seen worrying at the marrow. Good. The fool had mistaken kindness for weakness, but this was a language he understood. Now to connect the threat he understood to the one he didn't, before he could recover his composure.

"Your ignorance has cost you" she purred. "But no matter.""You have all the time in the world - or rather, all the time in the next world - to learn."

The petitioner's claws scraped the cave floor as he shifted, startled. "They can't. You wouldn't allow it. You're bluffing." But the Bonepicker only cocked her heads and raised eyebrows at this bravado.

"If you don't survive, you were never really one of Hers." "And you certainly aren't one of ours." "The spirits you angered have no quarrel with us." "And if this is how you act, we see no profit in changing that." "What price, thief, graverobber, fool, what price would you pay for the safety of your soul?"

Abruptly, the light began to dim, as crystal after crystal winked out. As the darkness closed in about them once more, she heard the voices of the dead begin to rise. The petitioner snapped wildly, at foes he could sense, but not see or touch. "Wait!" he cried. But still the light faded until all that was left was the faint wisp of cold breath as two voices spoke in unison. "Choose."

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