roll for random encounters

[forced_unlife]

While Khel didn't exactly have anywhere he needed to be, he did like knowing where he was going. That wasn't really possible in his current situation, so he continued to wander the city for a bit before finally sitting down in front of a large temple. "The irony is not lost on me," he muttered to himself, waiting. He had been told that "Sheeana"

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[worm_dancer]

Luckily the worms were even more sensitive to vibration than she was. Their great leathery bodies turned in the sand filled great pool, pointing like loyal dogs at the source. She walked out, away from the alien YMCA and listened. ancient leather on the concrete, the sound of rattling bones. She walked towards the source and called when she saw him a block away.

"You set upon yourself to find me, eh Bone Lord? Most would be terrified to hear that, but i'm flattered."

[forced_unlife]

"Sought thee I have, for I find thee ... fascinating. Thou shan't flee from my sight, but rather thee would converse with me, and shy not from my visage. I have ... never met the like of thee." He truly was interested, and found himself vaguely curious if his magical fear would even effect her. He would be honest with this one, however, of his abilities. He needed someone at least to be privy to his abilities, that he might not feel like he must keep secrets even from a community that was tolerating, if not accepting him.

[worm_dancer]

Sheeana is caught between empathizing with his feeling of otherness, of being set apart, and using his obvious need for human affection for her own purposes...Or rather those of the Sisterhood.

"A Bene Gesserit does not flee from the strange, for we are also called Witches by those who are ignorant."

[forced_unlife]

"Witches? Such magics thou must be capable of, to earn such a name. The magics I am capable of are few, but powerful, and all connected to the circumstances in which I find myself."

[worm_dancer]

"Oh?" Her expression silently bids him to go on.

[forced_unlife]

"I believe some mages refer to them as 'inherent abilities'. As a death knight, I am capable of many things. I can instill fear in souls at will, and am immune to cold, resistant to fire, and nigh-immune to bladed weapons. I can heal people with a touch, and likewise slay with but a touch. I can call forth other weak undead once every few weeks, and they remain by my side until destroyed." He ticked them off slowly, though from the expression on his skull, he was hardly proud to have them.

[worm_dancer]

Sheeana listens with interest. "Fear? Would you care to give me a demonstration?"

[forced_unlife]

That was easy enough. Magical fear was probably the simplest of his abilities to use, and he stepped closer to Sheeana, summoning up the fear power he had, causing the enchanted terror to exude from him in a wide field. He didn't want to panic her, certainly not, but she did ask for a demonstration, and there was hardly anyone else in sight to demonstrate upon.

[worm_dancer]

Sheeana felt her heartbeat quicken a moment, willed it to slow down.

"More. Don't hold back for me."

This will be an interesting test of her abilities too.

[forced_unlife]

Opening his jaws wide, the death knight let out an eldritch roar at the woman, letting the full power of his fear wash over her. He'd terrified dragons before with it, and the cold grip of horror became like icy claws digging deep. "For testing my power, the consequences be on thy own head!"

[worm_dancer]

There is real fear, the first she has felt in years. This isn't just a phantasmagoria designed to fool the gullible.

She begins the litany against fear, softly to herself at first.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.

Sheeana is fifteen, the youngest non-preborn to ever go through the Spice Agony. A proctor straps her to a bed, puts something soft in her mouth so she doesn't bite off her tongue. That glowing liquid, the deadly poison that unlocks OTher Memory is filled into a long syringe.

I will face my fear, I will permit it to pass over and through me.

She is twelve, running onto a no-ship that will take her off Rakis at the very last moment. Above them, Honored Matre ships circle like black, menacing clouds. Their obliterator weapons rain down on the planet, destroying everything she's ever known.

I will turn the inner eye to see its path. She is eight, collecting Spice just outside her hardscrabble desert village. There is a distant vibration...Shaitan's

[forced_unlife]

Sheeana had asked that Khel hold nothing back. Whatever she was doing, it was apparent to the undead that him not holding back anything was important. So he didn't. His eyes glowing a piercing and malevolent red, the knight loomed over the woman, towering and unleashing another echoing howl. He usually saved this only for the most hardened of adventurers who came invading his wrecked palace, and though a part of him worried what would become of the young woman's mind, the logical part of Khel was fairly certain that Sheeana would be fine.

[worm_dancer]

She felt herself floating. A numb body, in blank, room temperature nothing. The fear had driven her out of herself.

An observer would see her blue within blue eyes roll back in her head.

A voice called to her.

Sheeana...Sheeana...dozens of times great granddaughter...

She saw a woman with features like her own, sweating and breathing hard. Black hair bound in a ponytail. Wearing a singlesuit that showed dark blotches of perspiration.

Siona. The Tyrant's second greatest enemy and her own distant ancestor.

You still hate him don't you.

"No...I don't..."

You can't hide that from me. It's written on your heart. I know how you feel. But he made the neccesary sacrifices. You whose life was made possible by him must pay some of it back.

The woman's voice faded. Sheeana felt a change in her, like a switch that had been thrown to the other side. She fell back into herself and stumbled.

Forwards. Into him.

[forced_unlife]

Khel let the fear fade immediately, reaching out to catch the young woman.His gloved and armored body, luckily, kept her from hitting and possibly cutting herself on the edge of a bone or something. He held her up easily, lightly prodding her shoulder with his free hand. "Are thou alright? Please, if thou still hath breath, awaken!" He leaned over, speaking, whispering as he attempted to use his healing powers on her. He was dead, with no lungs, true, but he still had breath, oddly enough. Anyone awake might have noted that it smelled like a strange mix of incense and cinnamon, the burial spices used to preserve the warrior.

[worm_dancer]

Sheeana for once doesn't notice the scent because it is the scent of the familiar and nostalgic to her: spice smells of flinty cinnamon.

Her breath, in fact, is very much still there. She is flushed and breathing hard. Her body is clutching at homeostasis. Her eyes gradually focus as she realizes her face is buried in a bare neckbone. She tries to push away, wobbles for a moment, but manages to stand on her feet.

"I'm...alright."

[forced_unlife]

"Good. I have no desire to cause thee ... suffering." Truth be told, Khel was now feeling rather guilty for what he'd done. He hadn't meant to do anything to her except cause some fear at her request.