Snippet #2542732

The walking corpse that had arrived on the Medallion with Aeska and Arkana stopped moving, straightened up and inspected his work. Three unmoving corpses had been salvaged from the slaughter at Charmeil. Of these three, only the one on the far right had sustained any fire damage, the others had been slain by the spirit-possessed earth monster that an Elven girl had recently dispatched, before taking Aeska and Arkana up a secret passage in a tree.

The one good eye in the standing corpse slowly moved as the bodies were inspected once more, before the spirit within the body seemed content. Then, abruptly, the corpse was no longer standing and unceremoniously joined the three others, much in the same fashion a sack of cloth would curl up after being dropped on the ground.

A moment later, the prepared corpse to the far left twitched slightly, then the eyes opened. For all the life in them, they might as well belong on a porcelain doll. They were moving now, though. The arms twisted round to push the upper torso up off the ground and the body of a young man who recently had come to Charmeil to trade in some artefacts he had found rose again. He looked down himself and inspected the clothing. A burgundy peasant's shirt, dark brown trousers tied in with a black rope belt and wooden sandals. He reached down and plucked the cloak from the corpse that had collapsed just a minute earlier and donned the salt-encrusted garment.

To anyone with the ability to see Spirts that didn't manifest in regular, visible light, the scene had looked more like this:

The standing corpse collapsed. As it fell, a small bubble of pale gray light appeared. Invisible to common senses, it remained at level with the heart of the corpse, when it was standing, but now, the corpse discarded was a curled up lump of dead flesh in brine saturated clothing and the sphere hovered above it. The small sphere moved over to the next corpse and jagged tendrils started out from the centre of the sphere, stabbing into the flesh of the new dead body. Then the tendrils appeared to drag the sphere into the body and the body twitched.
The new body got up and picked up the cloak from the previous host.

He looked around, evidently only now caring whether anyone had witnessed the spectacle.

"Now then, lets go treasure hunting," a monotonous voice droned from within the mouth of the young man's corpse. Had anyone heard the other corpse speak, they would think the voices were quite similar. They would be right.

The young man went over to a smoldering building and started lifting debris away from the rubble. There was a sizzling sound. Almost managing a surprised look, the eyes contemplated the burn marks on the hands and there was a raspy sigh from the lips.
A moment's concentration later, and the welts were already on the mend, visibly mending and returning to their previous state.
The corpse expressed frustration as the eyes surveyed the repair of the damaged hands.
He had forgotten to take into account that the building had until recently burned. Now it was smoldering. Still hot.
There was an orangy flash and a layer of something covered the hands, shielding them from the heat.

The lips twitched towards a crooked smile and the body set to work again, this time without getting singed by the rubble.
It was so much easier, without the broken wrist.