Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0

    Going To The Land of Ice And Snow



    Posts : 925
    Join date : 2014-03-22
    Location : Deadworld
    Level : 60

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    Going To The Land of Ice And Snow

    Post by Mortis on Sun Feb 05, 2017 9:10 pm

    Time: 5:00 AM
    Date: February 5th, 0007

    There was something about getting on the road before the sun came up that invigorated the living corpse. Perhaps it was the dead silence, hearing nothing but the breeze running over the snow drifts. Maybe it was looking up and seeing the overcast sky overhead, painted a dark blue and absolutely devoid of any form of flying thing for miles around. The land looked dead beneath a blanket of glistening white. Outside of his fence, the evidence of there being any life at all nearly ceased to be. Barely any tracks of passing animals disturbed the pristine icy cover, compared to the numerous hoof prints that tracked this way and that all across his property.

    Everything was so still, so peaceful, it was difficult to deny the temptation to simply stand and enjoy it. Even if it meant standing in the middle of the dirt path, staring out at the scenery. A gentle nudge at the back of his neck roused the undead superfiend from his fascination with the wintery landscape.

    A skeletal grin met him as he swiveled his skull around to look behind him,  and lightly tapped against his bony snout. The cowl of thin, decayed hide around the undead horse’s cheeks identified the animal as Angemort. Mortis turned himself to follow where his face was looking, and sent an affectionate wave of thought over his link with her in return.She nicked softly, and dipped her head to nibble at the fabric of his duster jacket’s sleeve. She wanted to know what the hold up was, part of her pulling gear was already on; mainly her heavy collar and the padding that went with it. The lengths of black leather traps that connected the collar to the rest of her pulling gear hung over her back in long loops that still awaited fitting.

    ”My apologiesss, Angemort.” He rasped, reaching up to stroke the mare between the eye sockets  with a rotten, green hand. ”I did not mean to keep you waiting, the weather thisss time of year iss sssimply ssstunning.”

    The undead mare puffed and leaned into the gentle strokes, though it was more by her Master’s psychic talent that she could feel them at all. Otherwise, she was completely numb to the presence of Mortis’ hand upon her brow. As the superfiend went around to adjust her tack upon her emaciated back, there was a sudden flash of movement, and Mortis paused. The lamp that hung above the barn door cast Mortis’ shadow long across the snowy ground, and he could not help but notice that his silhouette seemed to be missing something. A little bit of height and shape had been stolen away, and Mortis reached up with a free hand to brush his talons across the top of his skull.

    There was a another nicker behind him and a creak of ancient flesh flexing and stretching. Turning around  he found that Angemort had swiped his hat off his skull, and now was flapping it around like a handkerchief in the icy breeze.

    ”Ssss... Naughty girl. Naughty.” the undead scolded and grabbed  the brim of his hat as she flapped it around. ”Give it back, Angemort. That isss my hat.”

    He was met with a playful nicker and a gentle tug upon the accessory.

    I like the hat. It is fun to play with.

    Yes, the hat flapped in the breeze and made a very amusing whoosh sound, and the fabric made a satisfying crunch sound when she chewed on it. But, the hat was a hat, and the undead was not too keen on adding any new holes to its already worm brim.

    ”Angemort, that isss how you put holesss in it. Now, be a good horsse and give it back.” Mortis hissed, and gave a another gentle pull on the hat.

    Immediately he was met with resistance, mainly in the form of the mare huffing and snorting through her teeth. Would it be such a sin for her to at least keep it until he was done putting her hauling gear on? Her bony whip of a tail flicked this way and that, and her hole riddled ears swiveled backwards as she stubbornly argued in her own way to keep the very interesting hat.

    Please master? Just until you are done putting the harness on. I promise not to put any holes in it.

    Her tail flicked once more, and she gave a distressed puff. Angemort really wanted that raggedly old hat. Her back hooves trotted in place, as if the animal was anxiously awaiting her Master’s reply. Mortis tilted his head as he looked at the mare, and gave a small sigh as he let go of the brim.

    ”Very well, Angemort, You can keep the hat-” Immediately there was a happy whinny from the living carcass, ”But you may keep it only while I am getting your gear put on. After I have everything ssinched down, you have to give it back.”

    With that said, the mare gave a happy snort, and carried on waving the hat around like a tiny flag.

    Mortis set to pulling the straps over her hips and adjusting the girth. A few tugs sinched down the equipment, and the undead went to inspecting the rest of her gear and making adjustments. All the while Angemort contented herself with flapping the hat around and waving her head from side to side. Though her happiness was Samhain’s curiosity, as she was standing near the wagon that had been prepared for their trip. She looked behind her, and flicked her single remaining ear forward towards Angemort and her master, then to the side as she heard something rummaging about the supplied that had laden the vehicle. That something was Woolie, who had decided she wanted to nestle in among the blankets that Mortis had packed and catch a few more minutes of sleep before they left.

    The black ewe yawned and rubbed her face into the plush fabric, blinking her sleepy eyes before giving an equally sleepy puff. Usually she woke up after the sun had risen well into the sky, and she could enjoy her breakfast with the sun on her wool and Angemort having a few nibbles of hay at her side. But, evidently Ma had other plans this morning.

    Around the ewe was an assortment of boxes filled with equipment and supplies, and a number of other odd things that had been tossed in with them. One of which was a wood burning stove, and another was a portable generator, complete with a few canisters of gasoline that Mortis had picked up a few days prior. A few large bales of hay were secured down with the rest of the cargo, plenty for feeding the ewe while she was away from the house during this cold, barren month.

    It was a far larger haul than when Mortis had decided to trek up to the edge of the tundra earlier in the milder days of summer, but the superfiend felt it well worth the effort.

    With the click of a final strap being tightened, Mortis stepped away and walked back around to Angemort’s front, where she was still amusing herself with waving his hat around. The moment she noticed him, which was very quickly, the mare gave a resigned puff. Her fun was over for the morning, at least the fun she was having with the hat.

    ”Yesss, it isss time to give my hat back, Angie.” He hissed, reaching up to grasp the accessory where it hung from her teeth. ”Drop it, good girl.”

    She did not think it was so good, and snorted the moment she relinquished the hat back to her Master.

    ”You be good, Angemort. If you behave, I may jussst give you your own hat to play with.” He offered, and gave her rotted neck a small pat.

    Immediately Samhain’s ear and a half perked. Mortis and Angemort looked up in the direction of a loud, shrill whinny.

    If she gets a hat, I want one too!

    Of all the discussions he had to be privy to this morning, this one had to be the dumbest. ”Sssamhain, you never cared about hatsss before! Why do you want one now?” He hissed from where he was standing next to Angemort.

    I care about them now!

    And she cared about them, because Angemort was going to get one, and she’d be damned if Master left her out of getting hats to play with. Her, the cleverest, most dependable, best horse on this stretch of acreage and possibly on the whole planet. Not many were aware, but the mare was also developing a bit of an ego to match her blood thirsty personality. Mortis, and everyone else at his homestead, also had to deal with her ego.

    ’Ssss... Are you going to play with the hat or are you going to forget it the moment you have it?” Mortis sighed, replacing his hat upon his bleached skull.

    Samhain’s ear flicked to one side, and she shifted on her hooves. It was a look of thought if the undead ever saw it.


    There were a number of bad habits that came with sharing a mental link with a horse that was as clever as Samhain. One of which was that the animal learned how to avoid answering questions.

    ”Sssamhain, I know you. I know you would rather go chasse a ssquirrel or dig up a rabbit hutch insstead of wave a hat around.” He pointedly gravelled, and stabbed a gnarled talon in her direction. ”You cannot fool me.”

    There was another puff from the mare, and she bobbed her long, aquiline head from side to side. Throughout the exchange, Angemort silently looked between her sister and their Master, watching the argument unfold.

    I have recently started liking hats. Please let me have one.

    Mortis tilted his head, ”Recently!? You mean asss of half a minute ago, when I--” The ghoul brought a hand up to his snout, gnarled claws picking and lightly rubbing its bridge. ”Sssss... Fine, fine, you can have a hat too.”

    But the moment she forgot it was there, he was confiscating it. What he was going to do with another hat? Who knew. But what he did know was that the moment Samhain got the hat, likely she would be satisfied with knowing that she had a hat too, and would immediately forget it in favor of something she could chase and rip apart.

    Not that Samhain cared, as her rictus grin spread itself even wider than it was already.

    Mortis turned to Angemort, and nodded towards the waiting cart. ”Come along, Angie, time isss of the essence.” He rasped, before striding across the snow-packed ground.

    She dutifully followed, moving around the wagon and stepping between the large metal traces that were laying on the ground in front of it. Mortis had neglected to place a seat on the vehicle, mainly because there was no need to direct the mare from behind it. So long as the superfiend held a mental link with the undead mare, he could direct her psychically. He hitched Angemort up to the wagon, and glanced back to the barn as he made a few last minute adjustments.

    Ombre had been sent to the city yesterday with a letter for his brother’s family, detailing his leave. Though he never really saw the trio that often anymore, it was polite to notify them just in case anything came up. The last thing Mortis needed was his brother getting angry at him over a wasted walk through the snow. But, something told the undead superfiend he would not have to worry about that either, given February was a month of love. Likely he would be too busy planning things with Kev to even notice he was gone.

    Even so, Fear was still his brother, he had a right to know whether Mortis would be home or not for an entire month.

    An empty eye socket glanced in the direction of the front porch, a low moan gurgling from the steps alongside a heavy shuffle of feet. Much like the last time he decided to leave Gunderson Acres for the deeper wilderness, he had raised a few zombies to keep an eye on the house while he was gone. Even though winter was a time when most things that would come lurking around the property were asleep- or at the very least keeping themselves in the city where a warm bed and food were readily available, it never hurt to be careful.

    He had dressed them warmly for the season, in thick pants and layered in warm jackets that would keep the snow from accumulating in their joints. One of them even had a festive knitted hat that he found in the clothes that were salvaged from the farmhouse prior to its renovation. The image of a brightly colored pine tree clashed with the zombie’s rotted, half skeletal face, but it served to at least give the impression that the zombie could possibly be a typical person wandering around the property to the average eye.

    Ma, are we going now?

    Mortis looked down into the wagon, just in time to see Woolie pick herself up out of the pile of blankets and lick her lips. Her thick winter wool served as the perfect insulation against the bitter cold, and swallowed up her spindly legs whenever she decided to sit. By now Mortis was certain it was twice as thick as it was in the fall, and framed her head in a fluffy, dark mane. The sheep-skull headed undead admittedly never really thought of sheep as majestic, but his fluffy adopted daughter was just radiating majesty this morning.

    ”Yesss, do you want to sssit with me on Sssammy?” Mortis hissed, ”You may be a little too round to sssit in my hossst, but you can sstill fit on the sssaddle.”

    Her ears perked and she gave a happy baa, shaking the sleep from her wool. Oh yes, she would love to sit up with her Ma! She clambered over the edge of the wagon and jumped down, hopping off of the tire with a spin of her long tail to land in the snow. Mortis followed as she trotted over the towering, perpetually smiling mare, and turned to bleat at him over her shoulder.

    ”Ha ha, I am coming dearessst.” Mortis chuckled.

    He knelt down when he came to catch up with the young ewe, scooping her up in his arms. Of course, with his hands full with the very fluffy  sheep, it left him with little leverage to climb up onto Samhain’s back. Of course, there were ways around this.

    ”Ssssamhain, if you would be ssso kind.” He hissed, and with a small puff, the towering mare knelt down in the snow. ”Ah, my thanksss.

    It was an embarrassing position, having her front sitting in the snow while her rump was waving in the breeze, but it also made it incredibly easy for Mortis to take his seat. He swung a leg over the mare’s spine and settled himself into the saddle. With a cluck of his rotted tongue, she stood upright again, puffing an icy breath before looking back at her Master.

    Shall we get going, Master?

    Mortis watched as Woolie wiggled in his grasp, then stepped out of his arms to stand proudly at the mare’s shoulders, her head aloft and looking around like a pint-sized captain would survey the path ahead.

    ”Certainly, walk usss on, Sssamhain. You know the way.” He approved, and Woolie gave her own bleat in concurrence.

    Yes, Master.

    She turned her sights ahead, and smoothly went into a trot. By now Woolie had been standing on the back of Angemort long enough to know how to keep her footing on Samhain, and so she simply adjusted herself to lean with the mare while she moved. Mortis could hear the cart behind them as Angemort followed, effortlessly pulling the heavy load along. Within moments a dense mist started to form around them, swallowing up both of the horses and their owner. When the sun rose, and cut through the remaining fog, it revealed both of their hoofprints and the tire treads of the cart leading down the driveway and onto the road, before abruptly stopping where they had made the transition from this world into the ether.

    NOTICE: From February 5th until March 3rd, Gunderson Acres will be uninhabited. Anyone who attempts to trespass on the property will be met with the resident zombie house-watchers, and then promptly followed by a whole horde of zombies.

    Trespass at your own risk.

      Current date/time is Sun Sep 24, 2017 4:24 am