A Skull Full of Souls

“No.” Candii flatly denies.

“Ah, come on pleashe?” Julius begs.

“Noope.”

Julius pushes a little more “Come on. Jusht a little.”

“Never,” she replies smoothly.

“Come on, why not? I’m crippled, traumatished, and boooreed.” He doubles down on the guilt.

“Hwark, you do seem a little…firm in your refusal.” Chimes in Krop.

“It’s like, a slippery slope.” She replies in a haughty tone.

“A shlippery shlope?”

She shudders as his lisps somehow caress such an innocent sentence with such a profane and intimate sensation. “Yes.” She replies and takes another dainty bite of the blue steak on her plate. She releases another moan as the meat of the ice leviathan magically chills her mouth even as the perfectly seasoned and roasted meat melts and juice flows from the bite at the perfect temperature. The ice-attributed attunement that permeates the beast’s flesh cools in her mouth like the exact inverse of the burn of spicy food.

Several pairs of expectant eyes glare at her. Clearly indicating that they want more of an answer than that. The glares are somewhat weakened by their intermittent sneaky glances at a platter of food that costs more than some of them spend on rations for a month. Finally, Julius breaks. “How?”

Candii blinks at him. “How what?”

Julius grits his teeth. It’s hard to spot, as skeletons always put their teeth together to close their mouth. It quickly becomes obvious though as his next words enter their brains, sounding as if they are muffled by his clenched teeth. “In what posshible way, ish my requesht. A. Shlippery. Shlope?”

Again, she mentally flinches at that abominable shlickyness that happens to those words when lisped. She stares hungrily at her food. All she wants to do is finish her meal. The green sprouts of the evergrowth fern mixed with shredded carnivorous carrots, and moonlight onions, all drizzled with a vinaigrette sauce, call her name. That’s not even mentioning the mashed crimson bloodroot slathered in butter, cheese, and sour cream, all made from the milk of the winged Holsteins of Startiantia. Her meal might as well be considered an alchemical concoction with all of the rare and highly magical ingredients that were carefully prepared for maximum potency, decadence, and flavor. But she knows that they won’t let her finish if she doesn’t answer. So she sadly cuts her steak as she explains. “Letting you-like, experience my senses as your own is a gateway drug.”

“A gateway dru–OOH SHIT” Julius’ head is currently resting on a desk without his mangled remains attached. So when he attempts to tilt his head, he instead rolls it off, and it lands on the carpeted floor. The noisy thunk of the impact is accompanied by a deadpan “Ow.”

“Yes, now don’t interrupt. First, it would-like, just be for tasting my food. Then it would-like, be for feeling other things: a hot shower or the wind on my face. Then, you’d get addicted to feeling alive again, and you’d-like, start craving it all the time. You’d want to maintain a sensory connection-like, constantly. Then one day it just wouldn’t be enough, and you’d start figuring out how to possess some poor soul. Then, after that, you’d-like, go wild and ruin their lives binging on every sensation you can. Then they or their families would report your illegal possessions and-like, the guild would have to put you down for preying on others. Thus: Nope. Never gonna happen.”

“Hmmph. I hate magiteriansh. They never share.”

Candii mumbled her agreement with the sentiment while chewing her next decadent bite. This time she’d used the bite of steak to scoop up a little of the mashed bloodroot, which was heavenly. The sheer energy and potency of each ingredient tingled with its own flavor of powerful, intrinsic magic. Together, creating a melody of sensations that overloads the brain in such a delicious way that her mind fails to find the words to describe it.

Julius glares at her. “Now you’re jusht rubbing it in.”

“Mm-mhmmmm.” Candii grunts, trying to deny him but devolving into humming her appreciation of her food.

Krop smacks his amphibian lips and stands. “Hrwoork, either the food tastes even better than it looks, or she’s messing with us. He grabs Julius by his skull and starts walking out. Ignoring his squawk of surprise. “Crrrmk, at this rate, I’m starting to feel the temptation to snitch, and I’m not willing to pay that price. “Krrub, let’s go, Julius. Staying here only hurts us.”

“But thish ish my room Krop!” Whines Julius.

“Hwrwwurk, no, it’s the communal area of our suite.” He replies.

“That’sh becaushe you didn’t give me my own room!”

“Wruunk, it’s not my fault we have to keep someone watching you until we’re sure you aren’t going to get kidnapped again.”

“Oh-oh! Sho it’sh my fault that a bunch of nutjobsh got their veshtmentsh in a knot over me exshishting? I didn’t ashk to be murdered three timesh over by a Lich, then combined into shome abominable undead being. I didn’t chooshe to be made thish way!” Julius sniffles and grumbles. “I want my armsh and legsh back.”

Krop releases a croaking chuckle. “Hwrkwhrkwhrk, of course, they tried to kill you. They met you after all.

Julius gasps at his viciously wounded pride. “You’re sho cruel. Thish kidnapping cosht more than my education. That only cosht me an arm and a leg. Thish one cosht two legsh and an arm! I’m wounded, fragile, and infirm. I desherve better than petty inshultsh and teashing!” Krop pats the skull’s forehead with a consoling frown. “Hey! I’m being sherioush here. Shure, I can eventually replashe those limbsh with another shet of bonesh. But they’re never the shame. Even what sheemsh like a perfect match will be shubtly different. Millimetersh of length or shmall differenshesh in flexibility. It’sh going to drive me mad.

“Hhroooak, well then, I guess we better get shopping for just the right limbs then.”

Julius freezes mid-breath. An action made purely for emphasis. “They decided on how to ethically gain donated limbs.”

“Krnmmk, Yup. Read this, I don’t like long statements. People judge my croaks.”

“I thought they were polite and informative. Like clearing your throat before shpeaking.”

“Hwerk, thanks Jules that’s–”

“It’sh the following wordsh that dishplay your lack of education and higher decorum.”

Krop glares at Julius for a beat. Then his mouth opens and his tongue flashes out and swats Julius in the forehead.

Julius’ eyes cross as he tries to stare in horror at his own forehead. “Oh ick. I don’t know what’sh more yucky. You licking a corpse, or that you licked my forehead. You’re shuch a barbarian.

Krop squints with his enormous predatory eyes. Wondering if it is worth the lecture to see if he can beat his current record for skull tossing. It’s close, but everyone put a lot of work into getting him back and he really doesn’t want more people to call him an idiot. So instead, he just opens his pack and throws Julius in. Julius makes his trademark squawks as he’s tossed inside. Threatening to puke. He complains for a bit until he realizes that he’s resting on the letter. Krop sighs, mouth watering at the memory of the feast that Candii is eating right now. “Kebabs.” He rumbles as he makes his way to the nearby park.

At the same time. Julius is trying to open the letter. What remains of his body is sitting in a chest under the table that Candii is eating at. Normally, such a situation wouldn’t prevent him from forming a small ethereal body to open the letter. The darkness of the pack is no barrier as even setting aside his magical darkvision, his eyes glow lightly. The real problem is the damage to his body as a whole. The stripped and deconstructed sigildry that bastard Alain had experimented upon while dissecting Julius alive–Well, not alive–more… unanesthetized, or conscious. Many of the markings and gems anchoring his gestalt spirit to the skeleton were damaged and even removed. Normally, lost limbs had little effect as the sigildry going through them was mostly just relays and the arcane equivalent of nerves. The true integrity of his soul and anchors all surround the three gems in his body. His skull, his spine, and his hips. So long as they are intact his control of the magical flesh facsimile remains mostly unaffected. And that is the problem. One of his anchoring gems had been removed from the skeleton. The one on his spine, this gem Anchored Voracity, the eater larvae soul that powered many of the aspects of psionic-spiritual functions of his body. Thus, his ability to summon, mold, and manipulate his Aetherflesh was damaged by this tampering.

Julius snarls with discomfort, baring his teeth as his eyelights stutter while his body is shrouded by a poorly constructed blob of ethereal purple flesh. A throbbing pain wracks his skull, feeling like a headache of the soul. He gasps, instinct forcing him to try breathing through the pain. After a few seconds, the effect begins to fade and the pain lessens in kind. Wincing in an anticipatory pre-flinch of what comes next, he growls and sends two fine flesh tendrils to open the envelope and pull out the letter. His eyes flicker even more sharply and the flesh fades in and out at the same time. A nail of pure enfeebling agony slams home directly into the pounding drumbeats of his headache and creates a concertina of firework sparks in his soul. In a flash, his minds return to that dungeon laboratory. He’s back in that cage, screaming impotently as his bones are removed and destroyed piece-by-piece. His teeth clack back together and clench so hard that a molar cracks in half. Defiance fills his soul as his trinity of selves unite behind two words. “NEVER AGAIN.” He doesn’t speak the words. Instead, it’s carved onto his soul as a core value. All three of him vow that should they ever be at risk of such a plight, they would unite and destroy all who would pull them apart. The fleshy strands gripping the envelope bulge with sudden musculature, looking like a tentacle monster obsessed with getting ripped at the gym. The envelope tears in half, along with the letter inside. Julius just rests, panting to recover from having such a visceral flashback.

Suddenly his skull tilts and his panting just stops. He chuckles and mumbles. “I’m thinking in orc again. I don’t even breathe. Or have lungsh. I didn’t even need to ushe my flesh to do thish. Time to think like an elf.” With a small incantation, two semi-corporeal hands appear in the bag. With minimal focus and no discomfort, Julius commands those hands to gently pull the torn letter free and hold it up for him to read, aligning the edges along the torn section.

“To the esteemed adventurer “Julius Willowsong Skullreaver,

The local council, mayor, and guildmasters have been discussing your unique predicament. We don’t hesitate to admit, that though you are considered a fine upstanding citizen and member of the guild due all forms of healing and aid we can render after such heinous acts were rendered upon you, your unique health requirements run a dangerous risk. While everyone accepts you with open arms we strongly do not accept the methods used to create you. To be clear, no one questioned that we needed to find a way to give you what you need to heal. We just struggled to find a way to do so ethically. After a grueling 12-hour council session dealing almost exclusively with this subject, we’re very pleased (and relieved) to say that we think we have a way to get you back on your feet! (Or your feet back! Ha ha!)

The difficulty, you see, is that all of our organizations have ironclad rules against using necromancy on unwilling subjects. It violates both spiritual and basic rights. For instance: we discussed allowing you to claim limbs from the members of Salvatore’s Service who died during your kidnapping and rescue. But many of the other religious members were flatly against it. In short, no matter their crimes, no matter the legitimacy of the pantheon. Desecration is an action that is flatly disallowed on every front. Even when cleansing the temples to the profane, doing anything other than purifying and sealing the remains is seen as inviting corruption and disaster. In short, acting in such a way would make us and you an enemy of every god, instead of just the ones who tried to kill you.

We then discussed your legal right to claim the bodies of those whom you’ve been forced to kill in self-defense and use them to heal. This is a dangerous precedent to set. Ultimately, we deemed it legal for you to do so, so long as you have no access to city amenities or more acceptable options. But that it is illegal for our institutions to aid you in that act. In short: We won’t stop or punish you, but we can’t allow it if we’re involved.

Then, the idea of letting you harvest from those who are about to or who have been, executed for heinous acts was proposed. At first, we thought this was doomed to fail for the same reason as the first proposal. In essence, any form of nonconsensual desecration just isn’t acceptable to the gods. But finally, we think we’ve found the moral way to get what you need. We’ve set aside a modest discretionary budget. We’ve decreed that you and your representatives may visit both the execution holding cells and terminal treatment centers and bargain with those residents. In exchange for minor considerations such as stipends paid to surviving family or other benefits not including a prevention of execution, you can get them to donate their bodies to repair your own (also allowing them to opt into any legal experiments you are running. Please review necromancy laws to avoid being hunted down for illegal experimental acts.) So, in summation, you’re granted a small budget and authority to enact approved boons in exchange for donating parts that can be used by you.

Sorry for making you jump through some hoops while you can’t even walk. I hope you understand that we do appreciate all you do for us and that we are trying to help.

Warmest regards

Guildmaster Moranth

“Whhrk, I’m good Chauncy. How are your kids? Also, I’d like three glazed beast skewers and one–no two of the daily loaf on flatbread with all the goodies. What kind of meats went in? Oh, and I’d like a side of twenty honey-roasted piranha ants.”

Chauncy smiles, sharp canines poking out just a little too far. “They’re well. Thanks for asking. Brindle loved that little sword you carved for her. As for the daily trompos special, you’re in luck. The hunters had a particularly good haul this week. Butcher got her hands on some rare goat meat whose fat tastes like Buttered bacon when cooked. They also finally killed that big boar monster and some of that is in there. Lastly, there are just a few of the staples thrown in to give it that signature flavor I pride myself in. The lunch rush is only half over and it’s already almost sold out. Nice timing on the Ants. I was just about to pull out a fresh batch.”

“Crrooammmmk, that sounds so good. Better make it three of the special. I bet Gralk is mad he didn’t get a weapon. Twins are always difficult to give gifts to. It’s his fault he asked for a carved monster tooth. Here, I made him this axe, and Here’s a scrimshaw horn for Brindle. Make sure they have an adult nearby when they play with those. It’s easy to do some real damage when you duel.”

Chauncy chuckles. “You spoil them. Thanks, Krop. They’ll be ecstatic. Have the fourth on me. I don’t know what I would have done without you. After Ralla died... You guys have been good to us. I’d insist the whole meal was free, but I know you wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Krwnk, yeah. I’m glad you're doing well. I think she’d be proud of you. So, now that business is booming what do you think your–”

“OHMYGODSH Krop I got approved! We need to go to jail now!”

Chauncy blinked in surprise. “Oh hello, Julius. I didn’t know you were in there. I heard about you, how are you feeling?” he asked.

“Oh hi, Chaunshy. I washn’t doing great until right now. Now I need to go and be great. Onward Krop!”

Krop released a combination of croak and growl that could not be replicated by any other humanoid. “No.”

“Oh, thish ish great! I’m going to get my body back! I mean, it won’t really be my body those parts were des–Wait, did you shay no?”

“Crruunk, I did.”

There are a few seconds of silence. Where Chauncy’s black-clawed hands assemble Krop’s food while he listens to the duo bicker. But then Krop’s pack jerks as Julius tries to free himself. “Why not?”

“Hwroork, because I’m hungry. I’ll get my food and eat on the way.”

“Oh come on! That’sh no excushe! It’ll be daysh yet before you shtarve. Thish ish important!” Julius says.

“Hrrwk, nope. This is more important.”

“You eat every day. Thish only happensh rarely. Shtop being sho mortal and get going.”

“Crrrnk, no.”

“Mmmmhhhph, fine. Will you share at leasht?

“Hwwrek, You mean like what you were asking of Candii?” Krop asks

“Yup.” Agree’s Julius.

Krop rolls his eye to stare at the bag on his back. He takes a deep quiet breath and resists his cultural norm of beginning each sentence with a polite croak. “No.”

“WHAT?” Shrieks Julius. “Why not?”

“Krwook, because I agree with her.”

Julius, whose skull is hidden in the pack. Still manages to send the mental sensation that he’s staring at Krop with the utter disbelief that their friend just plunged a knife directly into his nonexistent guts. “How could you be sho cruel?”

Krop smils his wide amphibian mouth, revealing blocky white teeth not unlike a human’s. Takes the bag of food from Chauncy. Pays the proper amount, and begins to walk away. He can feel Julius performing the mental equivalent of inhaling before screaming and holds up one finger. Then he pulls out one kebab and rips off the entire skewer in one bite. Chewing and sighing at the rich sweet and savory bursts of flavor. Again Julius begins to retort but Krop mumbles “One sec” through his food-filled mouth. He takes out a waterskin and begins to wash the food down.

Julius just gets out a “Sherioushly?” before Krop raises his finger a little higher in a ‘just one more second’ motion.

He fully drains the water skin and releases a large sigh of contentment. Just before Julius speaks again he finally answers. “Just like that.”

“Eat a bag of dicksh, ashshole.”

Krop chuckles. “Hwrrk, no thanks. I have my food. Maybe for dessert?”

“I should ushe you all for partsh inshtead.” Julius grumbles.”

“Krokoko, and then how would you ever be rid of us? We’d be in there always. Fucking with you.”

“I hate you.”

“Hwrk, love you too you bony madman.” They walk along the street strolling slowly toward the jail that Julius had been kidnapped from. Eventually, Krop finishes his delectable meal and wipes his hands and face with a rag. “Kroak, Julius?”

“What?”

“Hworrk, I’ve been thinking about your request.”

“Well it’sh too late now, the food ish gone ashshole.”

“Krrrow, yup, I was serious in that it’s dangerous to just sense through others. But I also see how hard it is to understand us. How disconnecting and alien it is to not share such important parts of our lives.”

“Yesh it ish. I jusht got disshected becaushe I wash different.”

“Wrrrk, so I think there is a way for it to be safely done. It has to be special. You can’t just do it with anyone. If you do that it either becomes meaningless or a drug. I think you should only do it with those you want to spend the rest of your life with. Like your familiar, Carrie-Anne. She’s madly loyal to you. We saw that when you were in danger, and, if what Moranth said is true about her, then you think of her as family, as a true being herself.”

“I do. She’sh been with me ever shince I losht my firsht family.”

“Kruunk, then do it with her. But remember, it’s not about gorging on sensation. That’s just the side-perk. It’s about understanding and connecting. About learning from her perspective so that you can deepen your bond. If you make it a solid ritual for trust and companionship. Then one day, I might even ask for you to share in my meal.”

Julius sat quietly in his backpack. Contemplating the enormity of what just happened. “Krop, I… I can’t believe the gift you jusht gave me. You jusht took one of my mosht shelfish deshires, combined it with my deepesht yearningsh and gave me a path to achieve it. Thank you!”

“Hwork, you got it buddy.”

“How?”

“Whrrrok, how what? I can’t do the sense thing, you have to.”

“No, how did you figure that out? You’re sho dumb. I’d have never believed you could think of shomehting sho intelligent.”

“Oh bite me. Just because I can’t read doesn’t make me unwise. You’re such an asshole.”

“You ate an entire kebab in one bite! In front of me! Shlowly, you barbarian!”

“Krrraaw, I did, and now I’m thinking I might turn back and do it again!”