Miya spent all night in the graveyard, digging around in the dirt and filth of the graves and tombs until she found what she was looking for. It was then, she'd hid the body from sight, and moved to find a hired hand whom could help her lug it to the peaceful tree in hopes it would be useful to Syrus as a solid body. It had been a handsome man, somewhere between twenty and thirty, though it was hard to tell exactly, what with all the dirt upon the corpse. Miya hadn't taken the time to clean it, in hopes of getting it back to her son before there was too much damage to it. Upon his grave stone, had been engraved the four elements, so he'd had to have been a wizard or magic user of some sort, right? So here she came, redressed n a clean attire and leading a tall elven male whom she lured to carry her gift. He'd no idea what he'd gotten himself into, but Miya and Syrus could figure out what to do with him later, after Syrus knew if this body would work.
From the tree of white flowers and bark of gold, a silver wisp emerges. Having sensed his mother, the soul rises above the tangled roots and holy dirt without second thought. After glancing over the elf male who seems to be some type of servant, for he knows his mother is all too good at convincing young strapping men to act upon her behalf, the necromancer’s eyes fall upon the corpse. If he had been able to jump he would have, but instead a single back flip is conducted in joy along with an audible laugh. The eyes of mercury then fall upon the woman who brings the gift, “Oh dearest mother how your work always outdoes the last! Upon thinking your actions could no longer surprise me you manage to manage the impossible! This fallen warrior of the magic realm shall indeed work!” The spectral creature then points to the location where he had just risen from and speaks to the elf male, “Please place the corpse GENTLY down there. Watch to be certain not to bend the joints the wrong way upon resting it on the ground.”
Miya chuckles softly, Syrus having answered every question she had before the inquiries could even leave her lips. As Sy speaks to the elven male, the boy doesn't move, but instead looks to Miya whom is greeted with a look of awe. "Oh come now darling, go set it down as he's instructed. You think I'd have brought you here if it wasn't for you to turn the thing over?" As if in a trance the elf walkes towards the mentioned spot, and lapys the corpse down before turning and walking back to stand beside Miya. Turning to her son, the caretaker offers a grin, "Don't take him to heart. His mind is currently not his own. Nifty trick I picked up from a woman I know as Lynn. She's also the one whom took away my fangs." Another smile, this one wide enough to show all teeth was offered, the now again living woman chuckling yet again, "I'm quite glad he'll work,I was begining to think I'd never find one suitable."
Syrus quickly flies over the body and further inspects the fallen mage. The movements are quick and seem to be fueled by curiosity and joy. After a near three minutes he calls back to the elf maiden, “Mother, could you assist me please? I am unable to undress this body and that makes inspections of joints rather difficult.” A closer inspection is given to the knees and then face as his joy takes hold. A glance is given to the small chest that rests behind the tree before the elbows gain a further inspection, “Mother, could you please have your dashing young servant fetch me that box? If he were to place it upon the memorial things would become easer upon the climax of the spell.”
Miya dips her head and heads towards the downed mage after snapping her fingers towards the 'zombie' "Do as he says." With that, the male moves towards the box, and Miya ends her walk at the corpse, hands moving quickly to remove whatever is needed, though she pauses when it comes to the dead man's pants. It wasn't that she was a modest woman, but if this was to be the body of her son... "Um... Might have the boy help you further. I wouldn't want to spy at your future dangly bits." Snickering softly, she moves to the side and allows the elven male to taker her place, the woman placing a hand upon his shoulder, "You will do whatever Syrus tells you, and if you don't, you will do nothing forevermore." Oh how she loved her new trick.
Syrus nods as he continues his detailed inspection. Having not thought of what he asked his mother, her words fell on numb ears. As the words finally sink in, he looks up with a raised brow, “Wha? Dangly bits?” and then it dawns on him, “OH! Please except my pardon Mother…Death removes such knowledge due to inactivity.” Not glancing back up the analysis of the creature’s abdomen, “Elf, please remove the pants of this corpse without bending the joints, such actions will cause my new body harm, harm that you shall be used to repair. Do treat this as your own body, because it might become similar if it is destroyed further.” As the spirit of the silver dragon continues to probe the body, he speaks to the elf male, giving him specific directions so not to harm the body. The condition was near perfect, except the fact that it was…well, not as fresh as he had hoped, but this can be fixed! A cloth is then draped over the male organs so not to cause his mother any further discomfort. The elf is then dismissed with thanks to both him and the puppet master. The next action is quite odd, the spirit places his head within the body of the fallen mage. At first it would be rather an odd thing to think of doing, and upon looking back up he shrugs, “Making certain we don’t have too much rot. Could destroy the body without my knowledge…and the smell would be dreadful.” Syrus then floats over the body and crosses his arms before giving his diagnosis, “Indeed a great specimen. We will have to repair some of the nerves, cartilage in the knees and hips, all the glands, skin around the neck, and return the proper fluids to the correct locations, but all in all this is a grand piece of human engineering. He was a vegetarian who took good care over his body.”
Miya grined as she turned away from the exposed form, fingers tapping upon her arm as she listens and waits. "Oh Syrus dear, you don't want this boys form. I found him at the bar, with those ladies of the night all over him. Gods know what he's caught from the beasts." With a bit of laughter, she finally turns around, just in time for the cloth to have been placed. "So it is good then?" Head tilting to one side, she snickers, "What much we do? I am afraid I haven't studied up much on my dead bodies as of late."
Syrus doesn’t skip a beat and places his spectral hands upon the corpse and smiles, “I simply need you to channel negative energy into this form. Then stand back when I say so. I will do all the rest.”
Miya nods and moves back towards the corpse, her form coming to kneel beside the mage as she cringes and puts both hands upon his chest. You would think someone who'd spent all night in the graveyard wouldn't mind touching a dead man, but Miya never was quite right. Softly she whispers, a poetic tune repeated over and over, just loud enough to be noticed, but not understood. Brown waves of hair begin to dance around her as she collects the energy needed and uses her hands to push it into where Syrus indicated; her legs ready to springher backwards when told to move.
A vile chant begins to emit from all around the hill as the spectral arms of the spirit raise to the heavens. A wind soon begins to pick up form the east causing the growth of the land to dances. The chant begins to get louder bringing along with it a heavy drum beat that causes the blood of all in the realm to boil. Clouds above swirl in a counter clockwise patter as white lightning flashes above with such frequency that there need not be any other light. Syrus’ necromancer powers then begin to take form as a deep green aura coves over both his transparent form and that of his body to be. Defning becomes the lyrics to this unknown ballad as the silver spirit’s form begins to emit purple bolts of negative energy which strike the corpse causing it to jolt and twitch. Upon the climax of the verbal incantation, at the point where mortal ears begin to bleed, the necromancer dives into the dead wizard which nearly flies off the ground. If his mother had not been holding it down, it would have indeed flown off the hill. Words then scream into the mind of the woman, “Depart from me NOW!” Drums continue to pound from the shadows and depths of the other realms, as lightning from the heavens, which transform into purple bolts outlined with green auras, strike down upon the body.
Miya sprang back and into the zombie like man she'd brought with her. The two tumble to the floor and with aggravated screams and a few punches and kicks towards the elf male, Miya is back to her feet, eyes widening at the sight before her. She was awestruck, mouth agape just slightly as she sank to sit in the grass- watching.
Syrus’ new form soon begins to twitch violently as the beat of the drums continue to blast through the area as the wind nearly rips the hill from its very foundations. Cries bellow through both the physical realm and the psychic realm as Syrus attempts to conquer over this form. Fluids begin to spew out of the mouth, eyes and nose as the violent convolutions continue. Then a frightening chain of events unfold. As the enchanted lightning begins to strike down more frequently and the motions of the form become more wild, the body begins to…age. Facial hear begins to stretch out as though it were accompanying the removal of the bodily fluids. As soon as the locks begin to take on a gray and then white pigment it becomes quite clear what is transpiring. The corpse is attempting to compensate for the time it has spent dead, and it is using the dragon’s soul as a reference! A human form could not sustain such an age and remain intact! Bones snap and then mend themselves, skin becomes saggy then returns to a more tone form, the battle has now begun between true death and resurrection. A sudden jolt causes the all the muscles to contract at once forcing the figure to its side in the fetal position, and flesh begins to tear as the size of thee tissue changes in size and shape. Blood and a green substance flows freely from the open wounds, and only stops upon the mending of the gashes. The cries then over power the blasting calls of the drums, as a single bolt blinds the area. This final action is the followed by silence. Vision is slowly regained, but all that is seen is the chest that the elf male had placed upon the memorial…and it is open. Glancing up you see a figure slowly descend, feet first onto the ground. Before you stands a rather old and happy looking wizard garbed in a brilliant aqua robe of silk. Silver locks drape down his back in a loose braid that is held by a daisy chain of tiger lilies, while a snowy white beard, of beauty only matched by the dwarves, flows from his smiling cheeks and strong chin to his brown leather belt. Bushy are the eyebrows that are raised above his captivating eyes. The pools hold all the same features of normal optics of humans, however the iris holds a color that is by all means unnatural. It is as though a gray and silver smoke resides behind them, and its constant gaseous flow entrances even the more experienced adventurers. After you manage to tear your eyes from this odd old man, you notice three scars upon the right side of his face, and though you do not know of their origin it is obvious that he bears them with pride. Perhaps this dragon was injured in a battle, or maybe even while learning his powerful magic art. In his mouth rests a rather ornate gold and wooden pipe that gives off a thick gray smoke smelling of sweet hay. You quickly glance over the human’s wrinkled hands and face, but then you are engulfed with his aura. A strong pulse of necrotic energy smashes into you nearly knocking you to your knees, and just as you are about to recover from the first wave a second, and then a third wash over you. This is no regular old and frail mage, not by far! This is an experienced necromancer who’s greatest feat was cheating death so that he may act upon the world once more. With some difficulty the dragon attempts to speak, the words are rough at first but soon become recognizable as the kind creature he once was, “I….*coughs blood* I… do…believe we made *coughs out a green substance and blood* this work Mother. I do feel quite real now.”
Miya was silent for quite some time after she'd sat in the grass. Her honey colore eyes stared wide eyes at the sight before her as the clouds twirled and the blood began to flow from her son's new body. She was frozen in place, at least until Syrus spoke to her. After is words had settled in her mind, the woman dips her head, "Aye... it would... seem so." Shaking her head, she reaches into her bag and frowns at her lack of beverages, "After that... I do think I'm in need of a drink."
Syrus chuckles out several smiling faces of smoke as he walks slowly toward his mother, but has to relearn to walk. After a moment, and some choice curse in a dragon tongue he manages to make his way to the elf maiden, who he then embraces, the smell of a misty rain fills the air, “Oh….to be able to finally hold you dear mother is more than I can explain. Thank you"
