LarissaSilvermane carefully and ceremoniously removed her alluring garb until she stood naked before the stone coffin in the ancient halls. The coffin was decorated in common symbols indicating that rites of Tempus were observed at the time of its committal. Torch light gently caressed the stone walls that wore faded painted symbols of good that seemed eager and out of place; there was a dry smell of age in the air that was comforting to the gypsy woman. This was her next objective in her path to honing her powers; the remains of a fair-born warrior woman- she knew the gender because Silvermane could only awaken women corpses with her dance.
The tasks were becoming exponentially more difficult. Each dance more complex the tempo irregular but fluid; each step must be flawless. Larissa’s dance was precise in its movements, alluring and impious- such that it awakens the dead; however, just one misstep or disruption could produce undesirable results, possibly endangering herself. Undead were not- by rule, creatures of mild dispositions.
Soon after she began her dance of death a tremor rocked the stone coffin dislodging the top; dust and age puffed out in small grey clouds. Larissa’s movements became evermore fluid and exotic; sweat began to form on her brow, her cheeks became flush and her breasts more firm. From the darkness, an unseen gust of dry air moaned through the crypt dimming the meager light, when the glow returned a delicately wrapped undead female form had appeared and moved in perfect harmony with the dancer. The undead horror was the embodiment of rot, the very aspect of pestilence; a statement of woe to all the living.
The two women; one alive, one undead- both came to a sudden stop. Their dance had reached its end. Larissa noted with curiosity the blackened area on the corpse’s upper torso, a vague outline of an amulet and what that suggested. Larissa relayed to the undead the task as Karlot had explained it to her. Curious that the mysterious man wanted these specific remains to perform this task, but that was now no longer her concern. Larissa watched as the mummy of Xanthom Oriana departed the crypts; soon she stood alone and her thoughts drifted to Karlot’s vision of her someday being able to awaken an undead dragon. Larissa smiled- that would be perfection.