Ichorclaw

“What are you on about?” Ichorclaw barked. “One thing at a time, seriously.” Kratos was quiet for a beat, exchanging a baited glance with the priest before he serpentined forward, poking his snout near Ichorclaw’s ear. He whispered quite loudly, his eyes as wide and churning as the Pustule Lake.

“What happens if let’s just say a Ghoul were to touch a dragon? If a Ghoul were to touch, oh I don’t know, a Spiral?” With each inquiry his diminutive body twisted and slender head craned about in an exaggerated way. “If a Ghoul were to touch me? Maybe; I’m asking for a friend.” At that, the Spiral placed both his tiny, talon-clad hands at Ichorclaw’s cheeks, peering into each of his four eyes. An increasing desperation colored his tone. Ichorclaw flashed his teeth and nabbed the Spiral from the air with a swipe.

“’Oh I don’t know,’ something like this?” From his claws a red, vile light glowed and Kratos’ skin abruptly peeled and rotted. Before Kratos could warrant a scream, however, Ichorclaw pulled the Rot back into his fingertips, though as he did his expression changed from irked to puzzled. “What is this...? This was from a Ghoul, wasn’t it,” he mused. His claws still rested upon Kratos’ back, and he toyed with an acerbic, orange string of malady that he had pulled from the Sprial’s blood.

“Oh, thank the Plaguebringer, you’ve cured me!” Kratos dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around the Mirror’s neck. "I will never call you insufferable for the rest of today!"

“Kratos, where did you encounter this Ghoul? Why were you anywhere within arm’s length of...” Upon gleaning that the Spiral was still tightly attached to his neck uttered, “You know what? Never mind about that second question. Just tell me where you were.”

“North of the Boneyard.” He unclasped his arms and stepped to the ground, pointing, “We were near Rot Rock.”

“Was it on our territory?” Ichorclaw’s eyes narrowed. Ghouls were symbols of Her displeasure. They failed the second trial of survival and their bodies were left raging with uncontrolled infection. It was said that Ghouls roamed the earth serving as warnings and omens to unworthy grounds. If it were anywhere near The Cell, it would be his place to purge it from their ranks. Just as he had wrenched the disease from Kratos and countless times from each dragon of the lair, he would do so from the beast.

“Not yet, but it was looking into our territory. Didn’t say a word even though it was acting if it were talking. It was a really skinny Skydancer, and it kept moving its jaw around as if it were in conversation with someone, so naturally, I flew over and engaged it.”

“With your maw and not with that sword at your belt?”

“Well of course! We on the Survey Team pride ourselves on being sharp of wit before being sharp of—”

“Ghouls are staggeringly dangerous. Did any of your other survey squibs approach?”

“No,” the Spiral returned, “As their leader I took it upon myself to—”

“That’s all I needed to know, Kratos. Be on your way, but please choose a direction opposite that of the Ghoul.” Kratos wrinkled his nose at the Necromancer who responded with an echoing, chittered growl. The dragon departed and Ichorclaw retreated to his den. He meditated on Her will deep into the evening before summoning his familiar, a sizable, green bear with exposed skull and fungus flourishing throughout its coat. Together with the glowing eyed brute, he exited the den and set out to locate the Ghoul.


11/16/18 Ichorclaw could sense the thing before he saw it. The air was thick and disquiet palatable. He glimpsed footprints depressed into the red earth where the Rot had set in and eroded all vegetation. There was a lime green residue that pooled in the heels of the prints; they looked as if they could fit a Skydancer. The pathogens of this Ghoul must have been fairly potent to affect the normally robust and strange fauna of the Wasteland. Ichorclaw's concentration was abruptly broken and his ears twitched as his familiar scampered off somewhere behind him with a haunting bray. He hesitated, awaiting further commotion, but heard nothing and whirled around, scanning the terrain. An old rib cage jutted out from the ground and was shrouded by lanky, orange tendrils. He saw too the green tufted fur of his companion. The creature appeared to be fixated on something behind a sizable, bone-studded embankment. Scuttling over he found that the bear was picking at a carcass.

"Single-minded beast," Ichroclaw mumbled, though as he spoke he could make out the silhouette of a Skydancer in the entrails, its chest cavity, neck, and head fairly intact. It's skin was an angry red. He realized too that the forelimbs were still moving. He whistled, calling the bear back to him. He strode nearer, whispering Mother's prayer's beneath his breath. He surveyed the writhing creature for a moment before wrapping his hand around its narrow head. The priest settled his mind, focusing on locating the well of disease amid its body. It was as if searching for a shellbug in the rain.

The corpse snapped awake and it's eyes fluttered open. It's willowy hand suddenly grasped Ichorclaw's arm, its claws tightening and breaking his skin. The Skydancer's jaw, as Kratos had described, jostled as if speaking, but there were no sounds. Ichorclaw felt a burning that radiated from where the Ghoul touched him to the base of his skull, making him weary with fatigue. He nearly blacked out, and he hurriedly withdrew his claws from its head. Taking a few steps back he looked on it; the creature silently mimed a laugh, half its body still caved in. Ichorclaw grimaced, he placed his hand on it once more and in turn it grappled him back, again, and so forth they traded muted blows. Ichorclaw's breath wheezed; his familiar growled. Retreating again, he realized that his arms had been stripped to the bone, his flesh withered away by Rot.