Grave Walker

The Undying Shroud

"Agh! To Cinders!" Glyph slid across the dirt as the glow of her scythe trailed behind her in a spin. A teal and purple hue of Ghostly steel. Though imbued with ancient magicks, the blade itself looked war-torn and ragged with chipping across the lining of the edge. Her hair hung to the side of her head, a scuffed pink and blue under the moonlight; peeking out just past the hood of her saw-edged cloak . Though one could say her armor also saw a fair share of wear and tear. The ebon black steel and leather strapped neatly to her person.

The dents and dirt from years of use had given it this matte 'off black' sheen to it. But it bothered her none. She was no stranger to long winter months without a clean or shine, in fact. Her mind glanced back to when she had met wellby and the others. She was a savage then and in some ways, still was. She wiped the blood from her mouth as she looked around the snow-laden graveyard. The dead rose around her as skeletal and flesh-rotting digits popped up through the icy earth. Only to be followed by the hollow droning of the afterlife. Glyph darted her eyes across the gravestones, Noting each one of their names before her vision set just past the graveyard.

Between the falling flakes, a man in a black robe who's hands glinted with the ominous shadowy glow of magic; wrapping around his palms. The magic snaked it's way up to the tips of his fingers. She dodged to the side, clashing her steel with a blade as the corpses closed in on her. Some wielded hatchets, others axes, most of them were long dead knights buried ceremoniously in their armor. She spun her scythe as it collided with a line of necks ripe for the taking. Their bodies long since decrepit; spraying mummified dust instead of the usual amber hue of blood. She pulled her arm down with the scythe still in the spin as she pivoted, slicing one more in half.

Her next mark would meet resistance as the blade clashed against another. The Cadaver went in for a follow through, meeting at just the right moment to pierce glyph directly through the heart. She stopped as her eyes widened. Of course, She'd been stabbed, burned, sliced, and slashed all many times, Including getting gored by a dragon and losing her arm. But the pain never went away. It hurt every time.

She paused, taking a gasp of air. Following through with second gasp as another blade pierced her backside. Another, then another and one more after that as they swarmed her. All with pikes, axes and swords, the steel tore through her flesh. She fell to her knees as the blood spilled from her wounds. A bright red paint rushed out of her mouth. Looking down, she lifted her one skeletal arm spattered in the liquid. Fae blood had always been different from other mortals.

Though for as long as she's had the scythe, her blood took on this form of bright red luminosity. The carcasses continued to impale her with varying weaponry. Almost letting it happen. The familiar voice rang out from her shadow as it had many times before. She closed her eyes. The piercing of blades began to feel numb now as her vision became entombed in darkness.

"...It is time to Awaken...Glyphera Conmoyer."

When she opened her eyes; the purple and teal aura surrounded her. Her blood turned to ectoplasm under the moon as her cloak encased her. The flesh on her skin began to char and smolder as it fell to ash. Revealing naught but the ghostly skeletal remains of her frame. The bones of her legs extended outward as she stood, Her jagged cloak falling down with her. The weapons clanging to the dirt as the dead turned to ash around her. Their souls swirled in a vortex encircling her feet. As the glow of her scythe illuminated the area just above her head; where the singed edges of her hood entombed her face.

A single ossein digit pointing outward at the Necromancer. When she spoke; the words came from two distinct tones speaking just out of sync.

"Defiler. Thou hast disturbed the sanctity of this, The hallowed ground of the dead." Her body drifted her forward with each step, leaving a foot print of ash that singed with embers melting the snow beneath her feet. The robed man closed his book which Glyph could see was encased in his pitch black and red aura. His eyes began to glow. "Vile shroud. There is naught but the true god Otuun. Witness my ascension." The book floated above his head. Though her shrouded body moved slow; her eyes widened. She knew exactly what was happening, Experiencing it many times as she noted the faint shadow of a Patron lurking just behind him. It's wicked smile revealed teeth like a dragon's talon as the mage ignited into arcane flame.