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Traume

Skeleton-face tattoo'd dark skinned, black haired woman with a wide set of hips, an ample bust, long legs, elf-like ears and a habit of waking the dead.

0 · 107 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Rooster

Description

A Darker skinned, Black haired, sultrily bodied woman of what appears to be Indian descent with a full face tattoo of a skull, her body voluptuous clad in a fishnet bodysuit, a small black leather dress, and a feather boa. Her eyes are a burnt pumpkin orange, her ears are pointed quite like an elf's and she has a scar straight down her stomach running through her belly-button. A large skeletally formed Scythe rests snuggly on her back, held in place by what looks to be a portion of her spinal column.

Traume has a unique ability of being able to 'Smell' someone's aura to determine how close to death they are, she also seems to possess a supernatural ability to sprint at least as fast as a small car, bodily harm done to her seems to mend unnaturally fast (Even faster if she can feel the bone) and she is strong enough to carry and wield the heavy scythe constantly strapped to her back which cannot be short of two hundred pounds in whole. The aforementioned scythe is relatively strong, but when broken can be repaired by finding a grave-sight and stabbing into the ground, harnessing bone and soul remnants to strengthen itself, when coming in contact with the supernatural it bursts into light blue flames which are particularly good at ripping out souls and slaying the undead, ghosts and spirits. Otherwise it is just a very large sharp edge and can be used as such against living targets.

The Necromancer is of the Species Morte, a Sub-human race of darker skinned, orange eyed people that live in petrified forests, The tree-rock being used as materials for the tombs of her people, resembling great mansions of carved, dead bark, which double as homes for the living. Being so close to the Primeval spirits of death themselves from the creation of the Morte (Some spiritual texts state they were created by such spirits themselves) it was but a matter of time before death-raising became a common magic among the people of the Stone-Mansions.

Morte worship the dead loved ones of their pasts, and in the Winter-time (The Seasonal Deadening as the Morte Call it) spiritual worship is at it's pinnacle, increasing the Necromantic power of the practicing Death-raisers. They are weakest in the Spring, which flourishes the land with new life, Summer their second weakest season, Fall their second strongest.
Worship generally consists of raising the dead loved one's bones and collecting them to create intricate headdresses or jewelery, which is worn throughout the Season, practicing tradition of the dead or just when visiting the grave of the deceased.

So begins...

Traume's Story

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume 's fishnet covered, but otherwise bare feet padded along the immensely long dirt road towards The Ruins in the dead of night, the sound of her pursuer on a Motorcycle a small bit behind. She had hoped to lose the hunter before they reached this long, arid stretch of land, but she had failed. Unfortunately she had no vehicle, at least it was a small comfort that she was a fast runner.

"Shit.. Shit..Shit! I didn't mean to animate that cemetery.. A girl tries to take a damn walk and she ends up tearing apart half the city!" Her heavy Scythe dug into the supple flesh of her shoulder as she started to lean in her attempts to flee.

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume looked back and forth, starting to pant as she heard the vehicle get closer. She didn't want to get pumped with lead.. Or perhaps silver! She liked being a freaky bitch that animated the dead! .. At least she'd try to go down with a fight, if the dead would even care. Half the time they didn't even shudder in their grave.. But.. These ruins up ahead used to be a monastery, there must be catacombs! In a bout of supernatural power she sped up to at least twenty miles per hour, her huge breasts jiggling like mad as she sprinted down the dirt road, leaving a tail of thrown up dust behind.

The setting changes from the-ruins to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume rushed into the door, her skull-face giving a great description of distraught panic, behind the sound of bones clammering and weapons checking against shields in an angry fervor caused the woman to squeak in fear and slam the door behind her. She braces the portal with her voluptuous body, and an enraged forcing of the door was soon attempted. "Maaassster.. We seek to serve yoooou.." Dusty voices called out. "Not again! Uhm.. Someone help.. Please? Unholy undead scourge.. Want to take me away? Help?!" The woman, despite having a large bone-scythe on her back, seemed like she would rather avoid a fight. The strain on the door added.

"Meep!"

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume meeps and struggles to keep the door closed as more and more skeletal voices called out and slammed against the heavy wooden door, managing to move it regardless. "Please?! Anyone?!" She called out, starting to whine as the door was slammed harder, she suspected by a battering ram. Each hit knocked her forward, she had to lay her should back into the door in almost rapid succession to keep the undead masses from breaking inside.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to The Ruins

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume jumped once the ground behind her exploded with the silvery, usually anti-demon round. Shocked and quite offended, Traume becomes distracted and takes a tumble, landing on her skull-face and skidding at a steady fifteen miles per hour, her breasts cushioning the blow to her chest from such a collision, and causing her to coast off the road and roll sideways onto the lesser-elevated ditch beside it. It had been a dry winter, so the slightly colder, but still completely dry sand cushioned her blow to an extent. "Umph!" She sounded off as she managed to land on her luscious bum, her scythe sunk into the sand, and as she struggled to get up her breasts jiggled once more. "Erggg, This is kinda embarrassing!"

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume squeaks and lets out a moan of anguish.. Sounding like a moan of something else, she blinked and struggled more, managing to pull herself up out of the deep sand and sprint down-hill, in the opposite direction of the road and the trench. Her breasts jiggling more and more as she got more exhausted and made shorter, more violent sprints. "Why so much trouble for... Such a little girl like me?!" She called back, whining.

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Traume went from a sprint to a waddling run, whining more as another round was fired. Almost instantly after hearing the shot the handle of her scythe slammed against her ass, moved forward by the colliding round and struck right between her cheeks. Her more jiggly parts moved again, as if it was their mission in life to tear free of their unjust confines. To add to that discomfort, it had jarred her fishnet bodysuit, which was now riding up on her.. 'lower depths' "Y-you did that on purpose!" Tears were starting to form in her eyes and-

A sharp incline caught the Necromancer off guard and she went a-cartwheeling down it, screaming.

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Traume hit the ground, hard. She fell forward onto her knees, on all fours, the misunderstood necromancer placed a hand on her ass, rubbing the pain-filled rump and whimpering. From the woman's distance, however, it would probably look like a taunt as the woman got an eyeful of Traume's... Areas. Tears now streaming down her tattooed face, she gazed up, suddenly shocked as she glared at the graveyard ahead of her. It must have been for a lower caste of the Monastery's workers, as it was separated from the larger catacombs. She skittered on all fours and took cover behind one of the larger tombstones.

"Waaah! I w-wanna go home!" she sniffled.

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume did the best to hide her scrumptious curves behind the tombstone, which was more of a challenge then she thought it would be, as parts of her hips and the right dangling half of her feather-boa was still visible. "I-I.." She sniffled, but her sadness was suddenly replaced with another jarring emotion, fear, as the man who resided in the tomb sprang to life, his hand digging up and..Grabbing Traume's ass. She yiped and sprang into the air, scrambling away and looking back as the entire graveyard started coming to life.

"It touched my ass! Waaah!"

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume screamed shrilly as the walking dead, clad in heavy armor (Obviously soldiers, possibly those opposing the monastery.) crowded around her. Ignoring the other usual horrors of a woman on her knees in front of a bunch of strange, smelly men, she quivered her lip. "S-Stop shooting at me!" This was directed at the hunter, and immediately the dead turned their heads to her direction. 'This fool seeks to usurp the master's life. Let her join our ranksss.." A raspy voice sounded off and the soldiers began to charge uphill effortlessly.

"..Uhm.."

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume 's time of at least a little relief was robbed from her as the soldiers fell and their armor folded as they fell back down the hill. She thought she had lost.. And was ready to run again. Stumbling to her feet, the girl began to run again, but suddenly the ground shook and the necromancer fell backwards, impaling the ground with her scythe and rooting her there. "Noo! It can't end like this!" She cried, breasts jiggling even more as she failed to detach the weapon or pull it loose. With another rumble the woman meeped and cringed, the ground cracking and uprooting. A Gigantic draconic skeleton arose, dragging itself from the mass grave it had been sealed inside of until the dead raiser came along. A great shrieking erupted from the undead-dragon as it cleared the incline as if it was a mere hop. Trame was pinned to it's spine by her scythe and currently was screaming as loud as she could, crying as the kinetic momentum of the beast caused her to jiggle more. "Help meeee!!!"

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume struggled and cried as the thing stepped forward, lurching as it's half-rotting muscle remains stretched and became less stiff. It's wings spread and flapped, blasting heavy, putrid winds at the Hunter and her bike, hard enough to slam a regular motorcycle on it's kickstand to the ground at least.

"Please help me!!" Traume cried as her part jiggled, her fishnet giving her a double wedgie in both of her lower depths. "Those arent the places I want rope-burn! Waaah!"

The setting changes from the-ruins to Gambit's Bar

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume pushed open the door and.. tried to walk in before her scythe caught the frame of the door and snagged her backwards. Gasping, she struggles for a moment, before frowning, backing up and entering the bar sideways. With another sigh the Skull-face tattooed necromancer padded towards the bar's counter barefooted, humming a tune and sitting next to Chise Umeno. She chose the spot as it was the first she saw, and did not think her large scythe (Which had it's sharp edge pointing away from the girl anyways) would bother anyone, but the blunt back was close to tapping the strawberry-loving girl's shoulder. "What a day.."

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Traume was leaning forward towards the bar, her large bosom pressing against it decadently, when the girl said her 'Yeah...' Traume seemed almost scared out of her skin, meeping and leaning away from the girl instantly, her long black hair literally on edge for a moment before falling back to her sides. "Oh my! You almost scared the soul clean off my body..." The Necromancer panted, looking over at the girl with the strawberry preference. She reeked of life.

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Traume scratched her head and reached back with the same hand, removing her scythe and placing it on the ground, propped up against the bar with the sharp side loped over the hard wood counter. "Sorry.. Uhm.. From me. I'm just a little jumpy after I animated that cemetery earlier.." Traume laughed nervously, her tone and accent strange, almost Greek. "It is very violent around here, no?" The oddly dressed woman asked Chise.

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Traume tapped her painted tails on the hard wood counter, sighing. On each of the nails of the woman's hands the majority of the space had been painted black, then little skeleton face were added on with white paint after, making her finger-nails a portrait of skulls. She seemed to have a thing for them, hell, her face was tattooed to look like a skull.

Pointed ears twitching, she flags over a bartender and thinking of the girl next to her, craved ice cream. Though Traume wasn't into fruity flavors, she ordered a bowl of plain vanilla. When it arrived she took a spoon from the counter, spun in a fashion similar to Chise and placed the bowl in her lap, eying the fight as well. "I'm Traume." The necromancer said, sticking the spoon in the ice cream and lifting a good portion into her mouth.

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Traume scooped another spoonful of iced vanilla into her mouth, blinking when she notices Nereus polishing his weapons and looking disgusted. She wondered if something smelled where he was sitting, or if he had a bad day at whatever his job was. When racing through thoughts of why the man's face was contorted that way got boring the necromancer dug her spoon into the vanilla ice cream and batted her eyelashes, blinking big orange eyes at the man and obviously looking at him. He smelled.. Old.

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Traume tilted her head as a confused animal would with the smug grin. She had no idea who this man was, and the otherwise odd color of his eyes was totally nullified in a bar full of extremely more supernatural creatures. Even Traume was stranger then him, in her opinion, as her face was completely covered in black and white ink. The necromancer saw his lips move, but did not expect him to be talking to her. "Huh.." Her spoon scooped up more ice cream and placed it in her mouth, her pointed ears twitched happily as it did. When Chise spoke she pointed to Nereus with a dainty finger "That guy is staring over here, it's kinda funny. Maybe he's interested in one of us."

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume had no idea what it meant, and just tilted her head the opposite way, scooping more ice cream into her mouth and letting the spoon stay there as she stared at him and the glass. "Hmm." She mumbled with utensil still in mouth. She promptly took the spoon out, placed it in her bowl and offered a slight wave to the weird man that had a fancy for flipping things over. Traume had no idea what would ensue, and a tired yawn escaped from her mouth as she wondered.

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Traume gazed at his face and let out a nervous giggle. She turned to Chise and with a point at him she whispered. "Uhm.. I don't think he likes me very much. I waved and then he scrunched up his face like he had eaten something rotten." She let out another nervous giggle and scratched the side of her head. "Ohhh boy this awkward. Being stared down by someone who doesn't like you. I wonder if I accidentally reanimated his granpa or something. I'd say sorry if I did."

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume leaned back for a moment before getting smashed under a wall of text standing and grabbing her scythe, placing it to her back, her spinal column seems to snag onto it and hold it. "Oh well. I have to get going. Have a nice night.. Aaand here. This is for screaming at you and almost hitting you in the face with my scythe." She placed an almost ancient gold coin on the counter near the girl. "For your ice cream. It should be worth quite a lot." Traume had found it on a zombie she had reanimated in the ruins, it was over one of his eyes. She placed another down near her bowl. "..aaand, thats for me. Night." The necromancer headed out the door.

The setting changes from gambits-bar to The Ruins

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume struggled and cried as the thing stepped forward, lurching as it's half-rotting muscle remains stretched and became less stiff. It's wings spread and flapped, blasting heavy, putrid winds at the Hunter and her bike, hard enough to slam a regular motorcycle on it's kickstand to the ground at least.

"Please help me!!" Traume cried as her part jiggled, her fishnet giving her a double wedgie in both of her lower depths. "Those arent the places I want rope-burn! Waaah!"

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume wiggled as well as she could, trying to swing side to side on her scythe. As she swung far to the left the pistol's round collided with her spinal holder of the weapon, disconnecting her and sending her tumbling off the dragon. "EEEEEK!!!" Traume screamed shrilly until she landed roughly on top of the girl from about twenty feet up, parts of her elevated on the bike pinning the hunter, but her large breasts slammed into Myra's face, which seemed small in comparison. Hell, each of Traume's breasts seemed a little bigger than the girl's head.

Meanwhile the dragon shook irratably, the cause being the necromancer's scythe in it's back. With one mighty shimmy the sharp object flung out of the dragon and impaled the ground a few feet from the motorcycle.

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume grunted and sobbed as the girl started smacking her in the back, causing her to lurch forward and mash the breasts into Myra's face more and more. Eventually the arm doing the smacking would collide with the spinal-clamp the necromancer used to hold her at least two-hundred pound scythe, and it would lock around the wrist.

The Undead Dragon seemed annoyed by both of them, proudly lifting it's chin and sinking it's large, decaying claws into the dirt road.

"..Not good."

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#, as written by Rooster
Traume shook, trying to get the woman off of her with a fervor equal to the hunter's. Her titanic breasts jiggled as she did, and as she twists and shimmies the hunter's wrist is contorted in very unusual and probably painful positions. "I'm not a whore!" Traume yelled back, managing to slip off the bike's top and sit on the ground facing her scythe, Myra still attached to her back.

The Dragon, with a proud 'Hmpph!', uprooted a large portion of the road, as large as at least twice it's huge hand, and prepared to drop it on the little screaming fleas.