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Mortuus

An undead dragon with a hunger for corpses.

0 · 460 views · located in Forbidden Thick

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Guest, as played by Moonscar

Groups

A faction of vampyric creatures who reign over the Cursed Wood. "Expect from thy blood no more than thy blood expects from thee."

Description

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Age: Unable to be told for sure, but thought to be fairly ancient.

Gender: Female

Appearance: Mortuus is an undead dragon, and as such, does not come too appealing to the eye. She would have looked like a generic dragon if it wasn't for her torn flesh, revealed ribcage, and bone-tipped tail. She has wings, but they are torn to such an extent that they can no longer hold her in flight. Her stretched skin, what little of it she has left, carries a green tint, while the muscle under is a sort of dull red. Most of her skeleton, including the enamel of her teeth, is in tact. Fangs extend outward and can retract to grab on and pull on flesh, similar to what a snake can do. She has the ability to create diseased zombie minions, and she can also possess a lesser being if their will is weak.

On the subject of her gut, one would think Mortuus is nothing but rotting flesh and entrails, when, really, what lies in her center is the source of her unlife. It is what keeps her limbs animated without muscle to support them, what keeps her mind in tact. It is a strong orb of energy that came into existence a few hundred years after her world began. She found it, and it consumed her.

Now, she walks, unable to rid herself of it, unable to understand why it had chosen her those long years ago.
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History

In the old, mass continent of Pangaea, there were dragons. For most, it would be hard to believe, though the fact stands. With bones made of keratin and cartilage that dissolved all too quickly to leave a fossil trace, there never was any good enough reason for humans to believe that, indeed, these beasts lived, breathed, and ate, just like any other beast of the land during that time.

Wind back to this time and center on one green dragon in particular. Let us call her Mortuus. She was fearsome, to the top of her game, and fully matured. Today, she is hunting, soaring above the great plains of between what would soon be the rift between South and North America. Today, she would be met with the strangest phenomenon known to man, even now. A storm was brewing, and as she flew over a great, dark chasm, spanning miles over the surface, a wind too strong for her massive wings to withstand would overtake her and push her into the chasm.

Skip forward a couple million years.

Societies of humans have been established. Buildings became complex, humans created technology. Professions were established. One human would choose to be an archeologist, and this certain archeologist would choose to go to the border of South America to dig. He would find the greatest discovery of humankind. He had found a dragon.

Reverse time again, but only a few hundred years. The black plague swept Europe, and there was talk of a horrible beast roaming the land.

One year after the bubonic plague ended, there was a horrible earthquake in North Italy. Talk of the beast was dismissed as superstition.

Cue back to the modern day, to the archeologist. He is dead. The world is dying. There is a new plague. There is a monster lurking, hungry.

Terra, in a sense, discovers this being, and takes it from the modern world to the Multiverse.

So begins...

Mortuus's Story

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
Along the ground came a trembling. It had a pattern, though one that would fall apart every so often. With it came terrible slopping sounds, as if water and wet rags were being smacked onto a hard floor. It was Mortuus, the dragon who had newly come to Wing City. She was a monstrosity, and anyone who saw her would find their stomachs toiling from both sight and smell.

The beast rose their head tot he sky, letting out a terrible cry that welled up as screams.

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#, as written by Guest
The dragon went on, sense of smell not as good as most thanks to destroyed lungs and nasal passages. It did, however, catch the presence of another, and swerved its head atop a long neck. It let out a snort, then soared across the ground in a fluid walk. Surprising for something so pulled apart.

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#, as written by Guest
Still did Mortuus come, running now before they came up upon what they had sensed. The dragon stopped, sliding just before they reached the other dragon. They stood there, staring at him without eyes, and felt the destroyed wings upon its back rise, like a cat with hackles. They poked a head forth, hissing against him. There was meat. They smelled it.

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#, as written by Guest
"There is no life to value," answered the dragon, walking forward slowly. Mortuus was large. Towering beside the old, furry mammoths of the Ice Age, the dragon was nothing to be dwarfed easily. They twisted their head to the side, snorting again in a primitive growl.

"Meat. There is meat under your claw. What is it?"

The setting changes from dark-woods to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Guest
Inside came a woman. Indeed, it would seem like a woman, though the tattered, stained cloak that she wore hid most of her features, leaving a scabbed chin poking out, revealed by the light. She walked slowly, face angled toward the ground. Every step was accompanied by a wet slapping, as if her shoes had been dipped in mud, but nothing trailed behind her. As she passed by the only two patrons left in Gambits, a horrible, grotesque stink would rise up and assault their nostrils with a gagging intent.

The woman, however, seemed not to care, not even to notice. She walked on, the smallest limp in her walk, and took a seat at the counter. Rugged breathing came from patched lungs, barely working.

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#, as written by Guest
There was attention on its form, though the walking corps did not seem to notice. It merely sat, staring blankly at a touch-screen menu, the ragged breathing breaking any silence that was left by the loud Demon Lord. Even the hooded man in the corner, who was being a mysterious little creep in the back.

Then, the dead, sinking feeling came to her stomach, what was left of it, that warned her of something all too familiar. She lifted her head, turning to face the man who had parted with the elven woman. Words tried to form, but were replaced by a gurgle and a failed growl. Unused to speaking, the undead was merely trying.

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#, as written by Guest
Well. Two breathless, lifeless beings were in Gambits. Not quite a record, but it became more and more rare as time went on. Only vampires came in from time to time, and they no longer counted. The undead tilted her head, ever so slightly, to the side, as if inquiring. Without speaking properly, it was the least it could do.

The hood of the cloak slid back at the movement, revealing something that many would mourn to see in any situation. The woman, her eyes, why...one of the sockets lay empty, the other with a slowly melting eyeball that threatened to fall out at any given moment. Her skin was scabbed and peeling, with one splotch on her forehead revealing bone. Her hair lay in thin wisps, tattered. Just as the rest of her was.

"Gree...greet...ings..." spat the undead, forcing dead vocal chords and decaying muscle to force the word out. She lifted a hand, which bore a similarity to her face, tipped with bone to point at him. She said nothing.

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#, as written by Guest
It was just able to fit through the door, but it made it. As soon as it did, a horrible, rotting scent would waft through the bar, causing the gag reflex of some to go off for the strength of it.

What came through the doors was a dragon. That, in itself, was not unusual for a place like Gambit's bar, but it was not a normal dragon. The beast was undead, with an exposed ribcage and decaying intestines hanging out. Its claws and snout were withered to bone. One of it's eyes were completely gone, the other sagging in the socket. Wings, once used for flight, were now torn to the point of no return.

It was brought here by the scent of tender flesh. A child. One recently born.

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#, as written by Guest
The dragon raised its head, nearly scraping the chipped scalp on the ceiling. The child. The soft, tender flesh. It was close. Turning, it spotted the tiny, tender slab of meat, then proceeded to amble towards it. Rotten vocal chords let out a sickening growl that sounded like flesh splattering against a hard surface.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Main Street

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The street was overrun in blood, and not only that, but the smell of meat, as well. This much death done by the vampires would scare most, however, it drew the possible unwanted attention of one being in general.

Close to the size of a very large bear or even a small elephant, Mortuus strode the streets, following the scent of food. Upon coming to the slaughter, the large animal, rotting and dead itself, with a snout clean of flesh, revealing bone, and intestines falling from a half-decayed stomach, looked out at the vampires and the dead humans below.

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#, as written by Guest
The creature rose its head, at first alarmed from the voices around it. The vision of the undead dragon was horrid. Details were not taken in, and the figures left standing gave only a shadow to the creatures sight. It ducked, much like a frightened dog, and crept toward the nearest body that it could smell. Luckily enough, the person was still alive, if barely, and seemed to be weeping and pleading softly in their horror. The dragon's maw closed over his head, and, for the last time, he screamed.

A snap and a resounding pop! of the man's spine could be heard before his head, and the length of his backbone supported by the flesh around it, slid out of the body and into the beasts mouth.

It reached down to perhaps run off with the meal, though it was small, and there seemed a pile of food here to devour, but as the boy came out, roaring, the dragon backed away, hackles rising. It hissed, but not like a cat. More of the lizard it was.

In a rapid movement, the figure shrank, becoming something vaguely human-shaped, if just as torn up as the dragon from before.

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#, as written by Guest
The cloaked woman on the ground planted a clawed, bony hand upon the ground, the other moving into the decapitated flesh of the man's body. The corpse, without a backbone, began to fall apart quickly, but Mortuus did not mind. The creature was not picky.

At the man yelling, they stared, one eye missing, the other sagging within her skull. She tilted her head to the side jerkily, then breathed a word:

"Speak."

An echo, it was, a repeat of the word, but it was enough for the vampire to know she could at least do that much. Her voice sounded full of phlegm, like someone who had died of a terrible sickness, and her vocal chords had a good time to rot, as well, furthering the reason for her words sounding like the last of her breath each time.

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#, as written by Guest
The creature worked its lips for a while, popped its jaw, nearly out of the socket, and lifted itself from the ground. It grunted a few times, then- quite out of character from what the vampires had seen of her so far- raised her fist to her mouth, and cleared her throat.

"Venkyroth Dentente. Quite long, but I do not expect anything less from a vampire," she said in perfect Terran, though the voice still sounded like she was trying to gurgle stomach acid. She brought her fingers to her mouth and cleaned the meat from them.

"You must forgive me," she began, nodding to Kaiser, Darmala, Mariotto, and Casren. Her eyes came to Dominic last, "It has been a while since I have spoken, or used what I have left of my brain. Interaction with the intelligent is a sparse, sparse thing. I am afraid this form is not one I can assume for long, either."

She paused, standing and rotting, as she always did, to look them over with some kind of human vision.

"Why is it you think I may be valuable? I am different."

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The woman, or the zombie, corpse, dragon, whatever one preferred to call her, took in the information like a sponge. With a brain to function properly, mostly held up and functioning using arcane magic than it was by itself, Mortuus had chances to learn. It seemed, among monsters, she was not so frightening. Should that thought be fearful or comforting?

"Unique," the dragon mused, sagging brows knitting temporarily before widening again. "You would have me to kill. Would I not foul your food? Or is the destruction itself your goal?"

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she asked, inquiring deeply where she could. At inquiry for her name, she took a breath.

"Mortuus. Of forgotten Pangaea."

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The dragon in human's skin was still once more. No emotion was shown, or seemingly none, as she turned to Daemala “I am glad to feast upon the corpses. It is a favor for me.” For a being, possibly quite old, to even have emotion left- did they burn out? Possibly.
"Your request is quite taunting. For long have paladins and heroes sought to kill me, and though none has succeeded, they become troublesome. I have not had a proper meal for weeks. Hiding in the sewers and grabbing what murders and roadkill I can find has been my only choice," she replied. She thought on this, and only for a moment. If they betrayed her in any such way, how easy was it to hide long enough so they might never find her?

"Cleanup is acceptable," they said to Daemala, "For it is not cleanup to me. It is food."

"A disease, child, does not go extinct. A disease slumbers while the world passes it, forgets it, and rises against it once more," she said, a semblance of a smile on her face.

"But if we do not slumber, then no one can forget us, and resistance will become weak. The longer a disease pushed against the body, the further towards death the body becomes."

As she spoke, her form began to change rapidly again, bones sticking out in odd places, shooting out from her neck, sides, and wings growing from her back. She was changing again.

"I accept. I shall join," were her final words before becoming the dragon once more.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
The dragon, now a large, hulking undead once more, began to walk past Dominic, though it paused. Lifting her head once more, her hollow eyes came to Xiucosendr. The mad one. It stared for the longest time, almost wanted to blink, then turned the other way. Wings stretched, though they were so torn up, she was unable to fly. They were merely for loosening those old bones.

As the other vampires went, the dragon began its cleanup.

The setting changes from main-street to Eastern Crossroads

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
Up the road in all her mass and all her gory glory came none other than Mortuus. Her ripped, decaying wings were held in closely to her as she spotted Daemala. The dragon ambled toward her, smelling her presence in the air. The dragon gave the vampire a short growl that signaled her presence, though it wasn't as if the smell hadn't already given her away. Since the feeding, the dragon looked surprisingly...healthier than before. Less torn flesh, less gore hanging from her rib cage. It was a mystery. Another mystery was the voice that would echo around Daemala.

"I am ready." it said.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
The dragon walked slowly beside the vampire woman, her head lifting with a great many cracks of her neck to gaze up at the great castle. It was a nostalgic thing, seeing this castle. It reminded her of the days of the black plague, when she would take home underneath abandoned sanctuaries after all had died for cause of the disease.

"How eerie and wonderful," said Mortuus. As they went in, the dragon morphed, becoming the more human zombie they had seen her as before.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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The beast nodded, looking about, taking in details with her new eyes. It was one of the few glories of becoming more human. Eyesight was glorious. She looked to the kitchen. Having a meal nearby sounded like an absolutely delightful idea. Mortuus certainly was not thinking of leaving this place, no. It was too convenient.

"He will not be mad for his missing carrion?" she asked Daemala.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
"Surely, the families would hardly miss a shriveled corpse. Normal humans would be horrified at simply looking at it," replied Mortuus, bringing her eyeless gaze back to Daemala. "You do not seem disturbed by this, however. Nor do you seem disturbed towards myself, the same way you had been before. Have you become used to me so quickly?" There was question and inquiry, not hope, in the undead's voice. Not longing for a good answer. It did not exist, that feeling.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
Something of a...chuckle came forth from the zombie. She laced her fingers together, and the torn flesh of her cheeks, which were already exposing the insides of her mouth behind, stretched past her teeth as she grinned, quite literally, from one ear to the other. It was probably one of the more disturbing things Daemala would see from the dragon.

"Blood without having blood. Amusing!" she cried, and a cackle came forth, distorted, as if it were made from the screams of other voices. She calmed down unnaturally fast. "I have lived within prejudice all my years. I would not think ill of you if you were to do the same."

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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As Daemala opened her eyes, the grin would have vanished, just like a nightmare. "Wrong of you. An opinion is not wrong," said she, and she turned to face Daemala fully. "Someone of my age demands truth, not the layers over it. Someone of my age knows to look over the opinions. Now tell me, Miss Daemala," began the undead as she held out a body, smelly hand, "Do you actually want to shake my hand? If you do not, then say no."

This was supposed to be a compromise to make things easier for Daemala. There was something about Mortuus that said a barrier of disgust should not be hidden.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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Long, bony fingers hugged Daemala's hand. Mortuus grunted, "Very well. You are a smart child. Lying to someone like myself does one no favors. Remember that for the future." She slid her fingers away from the vampire's, then turned away.

"Is this it of the castle? I suppose there are a few secrets I will find in time just walking about. I quite like the style." She spoke as if nothing had happened between the two, and as if everything were so normal, as if she were not so much more intelligent than she seemed.

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Character Portrait: Mortuus

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#, as written by Guest
The old dragon lifted her great head and moved it forward to inspect the sword. She had vaguely heard of the wolf that had come by and assaulted Charles, but she barely knew a thing, really. She did not even remember Mariotto, but if something was causing trouble for the group, something, obviously, had to be done. For now, she had no input, she just waited for a report.