ORIGIN - Necromancy

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Grishia followed her mother through the bones. Like any child, especially a tired, freshly hatched one, her behavior was somewhere between obediently following Mom and being really distracted by everything around her. It was all new, after all: the rocks and bones, the stalagmites (and stalagtites), even the dust and spores that periodically swept the air around her.

The gnollish cub switched now and then between scuttling along on all fours (sniffing here and there, like a true hyena cub) and walking upright, using that slight additional height to peer around.

They were, just for a few minutes (her mom had promised), heading off alone. Her siblings would be fine: they were probably resting, and Omen was watching over them. Grishia--brow furrowing a little with focus--considered this whole new "language" thing, and then picked the words that she thought fit. "Where..? We? Going?" she managed, trying one of them on at a time.

Giggle was not able to reply right away. The giant staff was held carefully in her teeth, her head tilted back at an awkward angle to keep it off the ground. The overall effect was sort of "labrador with too big a stick," and she kept having to tilt herself this way and that to avoid the bones and rocks they passed.

They weren't going far. Just out of earshot, so she could speak without interruption, because--while she still didn't understand exactly how Grishia had come to be, and didn't understand what the staff was for, she knew it was important.

So at the cub's question she glanced around, figured this is probably far enough, and turned off the little path. She picked her way into a clearing among the bones, faced Grishia, and set the staff down.

It was far too large for the child, at least for now. (Giggle wasn't sure how big she'd get, but her paws looked pretty sizeable.) But it was hers. So Giggle sat, and nudged the staff forward. "Just here. I just wanted to talk to you alone for a minute, okay? And I don't want your siblings to feel left out if they hear this, so I'll explain it to them later." She paused, hoping the cub understood her words.

She didn't know if she was handing this thing off too soon, but it didn't belong to her. It was Grishia's.

So Giggle took a breath, and as the child plopped butt-first onto the ground before her (gazing up with those soulful gray eyes) she explained. "Okay, Grishia. You're my child. And you came from me. And this staff." She reached a paw out to tap it where it lay, complete with its strange bones, and wrapping, and gemstone and vines. "There's a stranger--a Visitor, in black, with a big skull for a face. Maybe a cat, I don't know. They're nice," she added, unaware of if they were a they, or an it, or a he or a she; she hadn't asked. "At least, from when I've met them. And I think they have great power. We live in these caves, but there's places beyond them. My whole life the caves were sealed, but recently-"

She paused. The big words-... Too complex, Giggs, she told herself as she realized. The words were too big. There were too many for a tired toddler with zero attention span, as much as the poor cub was clearly trying. (She seemed too polite to stop Giggle for questions.)

Giggle took another breath, eyed the staff and tried again. "Someone from the surface gave me this staff. They told me to give it my stone, that you would be a... 'halfteeth' life. That then made you. This staff belongs to you, okay?" If Grishia had seemed arrogant at all, she might've warned her, told her that it didn't make her more important somehow than her siblings. Might've asked her to look after them. But the kid seemed... well, Grishia seemed like a good kid. Like she'd take care of them anyway; like they'd all take care of each other. And that was good.

"Anyway, I don't know exactly what it does. But they said it--and I think you--were a gift. So I need you not to lose this, okay? Take it, or I can hold onto it for you. It's yours. It belongs to you. So keep it, and don't ever trade it away. Don't be tricked away from it. All right?" she urged.

Then she pushed it gently forward, with one dark paw.

Grishia listened--or, at least, she tried to. She'd just hatched, hours ago; she had siblings, she was tired. Everything was new. Really, what she needed wasn't a magic staff: it was a nap. But... she listened.

And she caught some of it. 'Halfteeth' snagged on her imagination, and she asked: "Halfteeth?" blankly, parroting it. She was curious, but already adopting it as herself: Grishia Halfteeth. Yeah, that sounded cool. Her mom's almost helpless shrug in return (she didn't know, either, it seemed) made the cub grin for the first time: a wrinkled-back black muzzle and pinpoint little baby teeth gleaming. That was funny.

The rest--she was a gift? I'm not a thing, she thought, and it was halfway between affronted and confused. The rest of it--the visitor, the world above, the staff--it all swirled in her mind, too much and too many words to keep track or even to make sense of. She'd remember some of it, no doubt. And no doubt Giggle would repeat it for her later, giving her a more in-depth description of the encounter--not that Grishia knew this. For now, all she knew was that her mom was pushing something toward her: a magic staff far too large for her paws, one that gleamed with magic and dangled with decoration. It was impressive, yes; and her mother's demeanor was... reverent. So Grishia took the cue, and leaned forward only very carefully, trying to take the staff into her paws.

The wood was smooth, dark ash, streaked through with opal. A crescent of rainbow moonstone sat in the crook of it near the top; Grishia held it, feeling with stubby fingers along the stone, then ran claws cautiously down the back of the crescent. This part was made of antlers, horns, that had somehow been attached to the wood, and she turned the staff slowly in her hands, studying it closely. Solemnly she regarded the plants that clinged to the bones, not understanding, but treating it with respect nonetheless.

But then it was like... something bloomed through her mind. Something, as she looked between bone and plant, wood and stone, stretched from the staff and imbued her with understanding. With comprehension.

These things were linked. Animate, inanimate. Death, life. The cycle from which she'd been born. The brief moment of understanding she'd felt before hatching: this was an echo of it, though she hadn't understood it, and still didn't, really. But as her brow furrowed again, and she carefully scooted the staff into her lap, she began to grasp how everything was... connected.

The cycle fed from one thing to the next, and back into itself: life existed, flourished, exulted and died, only to fall into the earth (or Oil; but that was not Natural) and feed what came next. Rot was a part of this cycle; death was a part of it. So was birth, and rebirth. So were all things. Everything. But there were spaces between those spokes in the wheel.

The space between life and death: dying.
Between nonexistence and life: birth.
The spaces between death and nonexistence; between rot and rebirth. The points where things cycled into new forms, where energy was never lost but only transferred.

It was magic, of a sort. But it was just truth, too. It held its counterparts in metaphor, things that would prickle half-understood through the gnoll cub's mind: the open mouth between one cave and the next, the half-shadow between bright light and deepest darkness. The empty spaces with potential: a pool of silent water, a seed in a lifeless patch of soil.

Liminal spaces. The places between. And that was what this was, a name that would whisper to Grishia: the Liminal Staff. And yes, it was hers. From a place between places. From a place beyond this place--as she was. That was her link; that was her magic, and it was what belonged to her. It was not a great power to be wielded, but rather, an understanding. A kinship with lost places, and lost people, and maybe even--given time--lost souls.

No, necromancy did not exist here. Not in its realest sense, not like in the stories, or in nightmares. But there was... leniency, in the places between life and death. A little extra give in those liminal spaces. A little more space for Grishia's magic to take hold.

With it came responsibility. In time, there might be voices only she could hear. And in that case, it was up to her to make them heard.

Grishia receives the Liminal Staff. This staff is attuned to her life force, having granted her gemstone shard its life; she will always be aware of its location, and its magic works only for her.

★★★☆☆☆

Liminal Staff

A gnarled ash wood staff fitted with a crescent of Rainbow Moonstone that glints yellow and blue across its white surface. The wood is veined with opalization and the staff's head decorated with antlers, bones, ribbons, ivy and more.
"...imbued with magic by the great enchanter, Tallulah." (Allegedly.)

ELEMENT: :arcane:

MAGIC LEVEL: 120
DURABILITY: 45
SPECIAL: Enhances magic linked to the dead by granting a limited ability to communicate with the bodies of the recently dead. Also grants additional use of the Golem spell, allowing the bearer to create and control multiple Golems with less energy and effort, but only when these Golems are made from bones.

MATERIAL: Ash Wood, Rainbow Moonstone, antlers, bones, etc.
ATTACK: N/A
ADDED: Attuned to Grishia Halfteeth, and functions only in her hands.
DEFENSE: 0
WEIGHT: 10
EQUIP: Staff

opal image credit

Currently owned by: Grishia Halfteeth

The child sat solemn, her focus now rapt, her attention absorbed. She turned the staff in her hands, pawpads running over the wood and the opalized stone once more. She held the ribbon. She touched the teeth. She took in the quiet words it granted her, and the knowledge of their lessons. It was almost too much, but--then she squinted and looked up and around with the resiliency of youth, and pointed at some bones.

She got it, now. At least, she thought she did. It went... (She lifted the staff awkwardly. It was far too large. She pulled it with her and pointed it, rather than her finger, at the nearest scattered little skeleton.)

"Limnal," she said quietly, mispronouncing the word, and not really meaning anything except to repeat it back to herself. Her focus was on the bones, and after a moment, they... shivered.

"Up," Grishia told them, with all the insistence of a toddler who didn't yet understand the words "no" or "impossbility." And up they came; another shiver, a soft clatter, a tentative shifts as some stood and turned and... assembled.

The creature looked like it might've been a long-legged rat. Or a straight-backed rabbit. The skull had canines, but the rest of it was lithe and thin. It stepped toward her, awkward and unsteady, as weak as the magic animating it.

But Grishia smiled, then grinned up at her mother. "'s bones," she informed the Bone Reader, wisely.

Giggle startled, a little, blinking from her child to the bones.

It wasn't that she hadn't seen this spell. She... had, actually. She'd made one of these herself, not long ago, though she hadn't maintained it for very long. A 'golem,' Totum had called it.

Maybe... once this sort of magic was known, the kids could just be born with it? Or, and her eyes drifted to the staff, maybe it's the staff's magic. Well. Either way, she nodded to Grishia. "Bones, yes. You--we, our family--are Bonebound. We live here, among the bones, and we have a connection to the dead. A responsibility to them, too." It wasn't something they'd have all said, but it was something Giggle believed in, at least for her little branch of their family. "I read the bones. And I can raise them, a little, too. There's... other things you can do," she went on, but hesitated.

Ravage had used their shared magic early on. And it had been devastating. Seeing, with utmost clarity, the death of another sentient creature only a few hours into life would be too much to inflict on Grishia. So Giggle spoke more gently. "Not yet, I think. We'll prepare you for it, but... everything that lives, dies, and becomes bones. And with our magic you can see how they died. But it's--it can be cruel. So not yet. For now," and she leaned forward, pretending to sniff noses in a gently playful manner with the bone golem, "we can work on other things."

She wanted to do a bone reading for all the children. But Grishia was tired. Alert, but tired. An old mother could tell. So--maybe tomorrow, she thought.

Grishia listened, holding the staff almost horizontally with its butt against the rock, her elbow touching her bone golem. The creature seemed attentive, almost. Ready, waiting, and calm, empty without orders as it stood beside her.

And she listened.

How they died? Grishia tried to think of this. It felt like what the staff had imparted to her. It felt like the end of one cycle, and the beginning of another. A limnal--no, liminal space. And as she considered all of that, before she could control it, her magic flickered out from her elbow.

She looked down at the bone creature. It, in turn, looked up at her. And she saw-

death. Fleeing. There was panic, scrabbling of claws on rock, the scramble for purchase. Panting. Terror. And as the creature careened around a corner and came face-to-face with a wall of bones--despair.

A wild-eyed turn, a sinking horror, a surrender--and a lunge and a lash of teeth--brief pain--

and nothing.

Grishia blinked. A tremor ran through her. She looked up at her mother, stunned into silent blankness. Then she looked at the bone golem, bereft of any knowledge of its own death, any memory. But she didn't know that. She felt... sorry for it. Awful, in fact. So she lifted her hand and petted it awkwardly on the head. And then she set her staff down, and like a child with a puppy, embraced the skeleton.

She was whimpering, just a little--quietly--but the tremble that ran through her faded, because she hadn't been the one to die. Her creature was; and she did her best to comfort the empty bones.

...Aaaand, she went and did it. It was obvious enough, though she wasn't... it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Maybe it was, inside. Maybe Grishia was just quieter than Ravage, or maybe the imagery hadn't been as brutal or intense.

Giggle sighed through her nose. Then she considered the possibility that now she was gonna have to tell her daughter that her "pet bones" was going to "die" in a few hours. Considered, while she was clinging to it.

With a grimace, the old hyena first looked the creature over, before glancing around and casting out magic. To her surprise, there was... nothing. At all. No gemstones nearby, not in any of these bones; it was as if this area had been entirely scraped clean. ...Or my magic didn't work, she realized, pondering. Even the effort was tiring, so she resolved not to attempt it again, at least for this creature.

It didn't occur to her that it'd failed so hard it had drained her. That stones lay scattered all around, and she simply couldn't see them. That Grishia's newfound, beloved pet would crumble later on, simply because Giggle's magic had refused her. "They don't last very long," she warned Grishia, gently. "It'll need to... sleep again, soon. Okay? But you can take it back with us. Come on. You can nap together." Nothing more wholesome than a child and their undead pet curling up for a nap, right-?

Giggle wasn't one to judge.

"You're still pretty small. You can climb up on my back and I'll carry you to the den? -Take me up on it while you still can," she added, gently teasing. "You'll be too big, soon."

She glanced down, but didn't offer to carry the golem. She couldn't, she didn't think. It'd probably fall apart. Maybe? Best not to risk it, and destroy Grishia's creation just after it'd been made.

Grishia gazed up solemnly for a moment, looking back and forth between her bone 'dog' and Giggle. She clambered up, after a moment, Giggle kneeling as the cub pulled herself along Giggle's decorated fur to sit behind her shoulders. She then hauled up the staff, putting it across Giggle's neck and back, diagonally--so it was supported (it was way too big for Grishia to hold, really) but wouldn't block Giggle's travel.

For a time she just rode, as though on horseback. Her mother's steps were careful and steady, but Grishia's mind was running over what she'd seen and learned. That sense of responsibility was settling, but already the child had a strong mind, and was... considering. Not traumatized, really. Not combing over the vision she'd had--however brief--in horror. Instead, she was thinking about this power.

The ability to summon bone creatures.

Surely... if someone came to kill them, like they had her 'dog,' she could use the dead ones to fight back? Former victims, protecting against their own killers? Although-... Those were probably long-gone, now.

She sighed through her nose, settling a little. The golem clacked along beside Giggle, and Grishia tried to think of words. Idle chitchat was a little beyond her new-hatch skillset, but she tried, anyway, because she had so many questions to ask.

Eventually, she settled on just one--to start with. "What's Halfteeth?" she asked. "What is it--what does it mean?" Her words came slowly, carefully. She wasn't a talkative sort. Maybe she'd never be--or maybe some day she'd take after her mother, once she was more confident in things to actually say.

Not too long ago, Giggle had seen... everything. Or a touch of everything. An amount of "everything," of time and space, just shy of what would have shattered her mind: a gift, a Wish, from the pink-gold that now streaked the agate at her forehead. That had, too, streaked Grishia's stone.

'Halfteeth' had been but the barest of glimpses, the briefest whisper among cycles upon cycles of life, death, birth, and war.

She pondered, as she picked her way down the road. She still felt distant, in some ways. Like she wasn't sure which chunk of history she belonged in. But right now, with children--with a warm child at her back, waiting for an answer... well, there was no stronger anchor.

"I think it means those halfway between... a form like mine, and a--one that stands upright." Human? Or just... Bipedal? She thought about it. "If it's what I think, they have no fur, the ones that are upright. They look different. They have long fingers, and flat faces. But Halfteeth are somewhere in between. They stand upright--you stand upright. With fur, and claws, but fingers, too. I guess it's something that was in the stone. I think I'm the 'teeth' half," she added, amused.

She was partly right, though she didn't know it; Grishia wasn't quite Halfteeth in the truest sense. Close enough, maybe, with the Magnolet that stained her heart. Or blessed it.

@Grishia (for tomorrow lol)

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