A Skull Full of Souls

The story comes to a pause as a noise that sounds reminiscent to what a velociraptor would make if you stood on its testicles fills the night. A few people jump and twitch as if about to look around before they shake their heads and turn back to looking expectantly at the ossiferous orator. Julius flicks his eyes upward for a second before holding up a single skeletal digit. “Shorry, one moment.” He reaches down and pulls a strange leather helm from his bag. “Carrie-Ann thinks she shpotted them.” Hands creaked on the pommels of several weapons, and several faces broke out into predatory smiles. Julius smiles back as he straps the helmet tightly over his pale skull. His tusks making his own permanent grin seem even deadlier. “But she alsho shaysh that I should shee shomething.” The helmet is strange. The chinstraps are wide and the top of the helm has two wooden hoops attached like a strange parody of animal ears jutting stiffly from the top. Julius sits, posture stiff, and grips the bones of his neck. “Thish will jusht take a momen— WHAAAAA!” A dark shape shoots over the camp. Swooping low over the fire, it grabs the strange ear-parts of Julius’ helm and wings into the night. “OH GODSH THISH ISH SHO DISHORIENTING AND SHCARY!” Julius screams. Many around the fire flinch, though his head is gone, he still sounds like he is talking from where his body sits. Julius’ hands press to the cavity where his stomach would be if he had one. “All thish bobbing while sheated is making me nausheoush. I think I might throw up.”

Big Moe is the first to recover. He has many questions and really wants to ask them all. He picks the one that he thinks is most important. The one asking about what the bird saw. But what blurts out of his mouth is: “How in Mahgdera’s name are you still talking without a head?”

Julius’ shoulders perk up and he raises a finger. “With telepathy, of courshe.”

Big Moe throws his hands up in the universal ‘What the fuck’ gesture of confusion. “What?”

Nobody in the camp can see his head, but somehow, all of them still know he’s grinning. “I’ve been thinking my thoughtsh at you all night. I jusht move my jaw becaush you all sheem lessh uncomfortable if I do.”

Big Moe pulls on his beard with frustration. “I get that you have telepathy, ya great bony git.” He slaps his hand on his leg. “What I don’t fekking get, is how yer talkin’ with us when the object ye use to hold both yer talkin’ bits, and yer thinking bits, is being carried off by yon DAMNED BIRD!” he gestures out into the darkness and a few others nod in agreement. By the end of his words Big Moe has completely forgotten his bardic eloquence training and has devolved deeply into his native core-ward brogue.

Julius freezes, finger still pointing merrily at the twinkling stars above. “Aha! I get your confushion now.” He crosses his legs and rests his elbows on his humerus as his fingers stroke where his chin should be. “Hmm, how should I exshplain thish. I don’t think with my head.” He says, pointing at the empty space his temple should occupy. “Well, not jusht my head. I have sheveral…bind pointsh. Where my shouls are tethered and animate my body.” Julius tried to run his hand along his skull. But mostly just caressed the air in a strange motion. “Each bind point ish a nexshus. A nexshus that actsh ash a transhfer point between my mental ashpectsh: conscioshnessh, magic, and shoul to my phishical body.”

“And how does that make it so that you can talk with, what I’m assuming is your bony behind?” Big Moe questions with more than a little sass. settling down. He finds this strange being both entirely aggravating and endlessly fascinating. A monstrous, intelligent, aberration that was friendly, rude, oblivious, chatty, and so very…something.

About a league away, the skull of Julius, bobbing merrily along in the talons of his favorite bird hums quietly to himself. “Wash that an inshult or a joke? Hmm, I should ashk him. Wouldn’t want to missh it if it were a joke! Oooh! What ish that? Oh! It’s the Crimson Shade Company. They really are trying to sound official for a bunch of bandits in this backwoods.” Broadcasting his mumbles to Carrie-Ann, who had long ago learned to ignore his babbling whenever it lacked direct intent, and also everyone near his body. He blinks and squints at the gathering warriors below. Well, his glowing eyes shrink, then narrow on the group. Hard to blink or squint with no eyelids. Honestly, he wasn’t sure his souls would ever get used to this strange form. “Oh, that’s a big circle.”

Back at the fire, Big Moe and the rest of the party stare in mild irritation and great expectance at the rest of Julius. Watching as he narrates all of his thoughts and runs a hand along the void where his skull should be. A small toad man with pale, aspen colored skin, bulbous reptilian eyes, and a greataxe wider than his muscular torso stirres and his throat swells. “Crrruuuummk, what’s a circle?”

Julius’s skeleton continues to broadcast his thoughts as if Krop the Bulfonian hadn’t just asked a question. “Ah, I shee, it’sh a Shummoning Cshircle of shome kind. Hmm is it necromancshy Carrie? No couldn’t be, the colorsh are all wrong.” His hands began twitching as if tracing arcane sigils and pointing at unknown hidden clues in the empty air. “Wait, thoshe shummoners. I think I shee a shigil. Ah! It’sh Shalvator’sh Sherviche. I love thoshe guysh!” His hand raises up and wobbles in a so-so gesture. “I mean, they hated me. I’ve never heard sho many shynonymsh for the words ‘Abomination’ and ‘Purge.’ But other than their vitalishm against the nontraditionally alive they were great! Alwaysh going about aiding thoshe who couldn’t pay but needed help. Helping the victimsh build cashesh againsht thoshe who thought they could own the law, and, of courshe, pumping almosht all procheedsh and donationsh back into the community by building healersh, schoolsh, and other good—“

Back at the campfire there is another crrruuuummk and Krop continued: “Yeah, they’re pretty great—hwooogh—but what the hell are they doing here, working with bandits?”

Julius’ jaw hangs limply—well, it would if it wasn't strapped closed by the helmet. But the frozen aborted gestures of his hands and his blank staring eyes would be complimented nicely by a jaw hanging open. Additionally, everyone is surprised when Julius manages to broadcast the sound of silence. But it was very clear to everyone that they are hearing speechlessness and confusion. “Um, I don’t know.” His eyes carefully read the script creating the outer ring. Mumbling the meaning quietly, under his not-breath and perfectly audibly into the minds of his entire party. “Bind until broken, agreementsh made while circle is active are contractually enforched by the life force of thoshe inshide the chircle, chircle allows nothing out while outer ring ish intact, only truth may be shpoken while inshide chircle, ah here, Plane: Element. Layer: Void Rift. Entity: Yemoqchi. Oh that’sh bad. Quantity: twenty…”

Julius’ torso began to slump as he reads over the circle, becoming more horrified by the moment. Big Moe stares worriedly at the headless figure. “What’s a, a Yumkochi? Julius.” He asks.

“Advanced magical applicationsh like thish shummoning chircle here are written an arcane rune language. Thish language hash a verbal form ash well. But, shpeaking it aloud can be tricky. Each word affectsh the resht ash they interact with each other. Each word ish influencshed by the shurrounding Two-to-shix wordsh. Both pronuchiation and meaning ish greatly affected by each added word. Plush, when shpeaking it, you have to power it ash each word ish shpoken and it increases the shtrain with each new word. Mishtakesh are bad and manifesht in myriad unantichipatable waysh.” Someone inhales to interrupt but Julius raises a skeletal digit. “The name Yemoqchi, is the arcane script deshignation for a shpecific breed of a nashty primordial monshtroshity. The common name for the breed is ‘Hunger’ but more shpecshifically: a Yemoqchi is a greater hunger.”

The campfire companions look at one another. None recognize the names. Krop shrugs “Herwerk, so, it’s summoning 20 strong monsters?”

Julius chuckles and continues. “With a normal hunger, if it bitesh you, it will quickly drain you of more than jusht blood. It takesh your esshenche, the might you gain from killing theshe monshtersh. It’sh not fasht, but each passhing moment, every ashpect of you will be permanently drained. The sthronger you are, the longer it takesh to drain. Unfortunately, the draining prochessh ish sho painful you can’t even react. You jusht freezhe, every mushcle and nerve locked in cramping agony.” The campfire space fills with silent shudders. Julius’ lecturing finger rises again. “Now, after a hunger conshumesh about...eh…two-thoushand villagersh worth of vitality. They grow into greater hungersh. Theshe bashtardsh are shooo much worshe. They’re walking juggurnautsh of death. But the worsht part is they don’t have to bite you. If they can shee you, they can jusht shtart ripping your esshenshe right out of you and pulling it into their gaping mawsh. The only good newsh ish that they can’t move while they eat. But with twenty of them…we’re eashily locked down. Oh and alsho," he points at his ribcage "our particular condishion meansh that not only are we a tashty beacon of delicious unattended vitality, but our magical form can be ripped away with a shingle, large, shlurp. They shee us, and we—I mean—I die. Sho, shomeone pleash wrap a blanket around me, I’m gonna fall apart for a bit. I need to focus my nexush here with my head.

Big Moe stands, wraps Julius in a travel blanket, and watches as the skeletal form collapses into a pile of inscribed bones. “Der’mo.” He swore. “I hate it when the plan revolves around that bony bastard. He’s about as smart as he is oblivious.” He turns and surveyes his companions. “Let’s get started guys. Nothin’ obvious, mind you, but let’s prepare some ambush reversal while Mr. Spooky does his thing. Damn, we should have asked for better pay.”

Krop raises a webbed finger. “Hwrk, aren’t we only being paid in what we find when we loot the bodies?”

Big Moe grinds his teeth. “Aye lad, and don’t remind me. We’re never letting Julius do the talking ever again.”

Julius commands Carrie to land in a nearby tree. A flicker of translucent dim blue light forms muscles and tendons on Julius’ head, violet sigils are scrawled intricately across every inch. He broadcasts a minor grunt of effort as the blue flesh begins to warp and shift. Forming two arms with larger 3-fingered hands and two legs attached to the skull, one arm reaches up, and plucks one of Carrie’s feathers. She jerks, and pecks him between his eye sockets, hissing at him. “Shorry Annie, I know that hurt. I’m gonna casht my camouflage spell on you. I need you to drop me right here." The vulture cocks her head at the psychic picture of a spot on the glowing circle. She lets out a quiet warble of confirmation. Julius casts his spell. His new, dimly glowing limbs flicker but stabilize as he barely manages to hold both the spell and his altered form. It’s a good thing there’s three of them in here. Without his souls, he couldn’t have juggled talking, spellcasting, and maintaining such a strange shape at the same time. His minds thank each-other for the compliment just as Carrie drops him right next to the glowing word for Yemoqchi.

He stands on his strange wobbly legs, incorporates the feather into his blobby hand so that the quill forms a fingertip and waddles over to carefully begin tweaking the runes. He alters it until it reads ‘Yutuvchi To’da’ instead. Then he moves along both sides, mumbling furiously to his bird as he adds tweaks and corrections to the frame, editing the script to accommodate the change in name. He spends a third of his magic reserves to alter this phrase He then waddles over to the line about keeping everything inside. Once again he alters it, changing it to say ‘everything that enters the circle donates the power of all of its kills for the next hour to the sigils of the outermost ring’. This takes a long time and his limbs flicker and quiver as he squeezes every drop of mana he can spare. Just as he finishes the chanters nearby are shouting and shaking with the effort of finishing the spell. Quickly, he sketches an extra circle around the ring. He has time to write ‘for a thousand feet around this circle, the hottest flame possible will burn for 30 seconds in an hour.’ This portion is faster as he isn't editing someone elses scripts. As he sketched the final glyph, his form collapses, drained of all mana. He calls for Carrie Ann. Just as Carrie’s claws grip his helmet and pull him into the sky, the ritual finishes.

A column of bright light shatters the night. Everyone is blind for a second and tries to blink away the afterimage. Next to the circle, the lead priest finds it odd that the afterimage seems to move. Then, as he blinks, he sees it move again. Then, it moves a third time, directly at him. Screams erupt around him, but it’s too late, the dark cloud engulfs him.

“Fashter! Fashter! Oh, my.” Julius continues to rant and demand more speed as Carrie flies at breakneck speed. She squawks in outrage and shakes the skull. “Ohowoargh! Don’t shake me like that, I’m gonna puke! Alsho, pleash hurry. I have to warn them! Oh, alsho when we get there, go into my blanket and don’t move till I shay sho. If those shwarmsh shpot ush, you’re all dead.” She hisses in displeasure and drops him right onto Big Moe’s lap before burrowing into Julius’ blanket-wrapped skeleton.

“Vsemi bogami!” Cries Big Moe.

“No time for shquealing Moe! Shut up and lishten. Everyone cover yourshelvesh entirely and don’t move till I shay you can. I uh…altered the shummonsh and what I choshe ishn’t much better. But that’sh ok becaushe I alsho shet it up sho that they won’t be a problem for long. Jusht be shtill and quiet for…oh, about half-an-hour. Our shurvival dependsh on you not fidgeting.” Everyone leaps into action doing as instructed. Something about the screams erupting around them convincing them not to question. As they all still and settle, listening to the strange, howling buzzing and accompanying screams, Julius’ happy voice sounds in each head as if he’s under the blankets next to them all. “Hey, shince we sheem to have time on our handsh why don’t I continue the shtory while you wait. Don’t worry, they won’t be after me, so I can keep watch!”

Even the bird groans as they realize that there’s nothing they to do but listen. At least it will help them ignore the sounds coming from the south. “Excshellent! Sho Andendor and Vinny came to an arrangement. A pact of mutual defenshe.”