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


    No Relation To The DLC

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    Mortis
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    No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Mortis on Thu May 11, 2017 5:02 am

    Time: 10:50
    Date: April 15, 0007


    Since he and Samhain had finished their leap through the Ether to the outskirts of the city, Mortis had one thought upon his mind as they trotted in to the densely packed streets of Portal City’s inner districts;

    Why did he think this was a good idea?

    For his perch upon Samhain’s back, Mortis rose a clawed hand to rub his skeletal temples. It had been a long while since he spent any actual time in the city, barring his visit to his brother’s home in the suburbs during the Holiday seasons.

    Staying out of the highest populated portion of the continent was admittedly a decision of necessity. It reduced potential contact between his aura and mortals, it severely minimized the risk of another possible repeat of what had happened to the two Anitra two years back. It was a long stretch of no corrupted minds, no mercy killings, and above all no traumatically regretful events. In his self-imposed exile the undead found peace of mind -albiet at the expense of guaranteed security and a great deal of socialization- but as the months ticked into over a year of mostly consistent isolation from the bustling streets, he grew comfortable with the lack of mental activity. The muted whispers of animalistic instincts in the wilds outside of his property were by comparison, merely that compared to the cacophony that now drummed in his skull. It was like someone had clapped a pot over his head and began smashing it with a wooden ladle.

    ”Sssss...” Even as he muffled the overwhelming presence of life to the best of his ability, other noises of city life did little to help anything.

    Birdsong and gentle breezes were replaced with blaring car horns and rumbling engines, the concrete jungle’s growth hammered in his senses to the tune of jack hammers and growls of heavy machinery, passing chatter was both mental and verbal, and it was everywhere.

    ”...Yeah I wanted to talk to your manager about the blue sports car that you guys towed? I still needed that.”

    "Get out of my lane!"

    ”No, you get out of my lane!”

    ”Learn to drive, prick!”

    ”You first, lady!”

    ”Oh my god Marsha you would not believe what I already had to deal with today...”

    He was surrounded by noise. Stupid, unintelligible, obnoxious noise. But that was only the tip of this iceberg. There was also life, but not in the way he tended to encounter it; these were not twitchy rabbits peeking over the tall grass, they were not foxes loping by just outside the fence, they were not basic animals. They were people, beings that could potentially become corrupted just by lingering around him a little too close. They could be warped, poisoned. The very thought made his claws clench a little tighter around Samhain’s reins and his toes curl to hook over the edge of the stirrups as she trotted down the street. He had dressed for the occasion, though the only change to his dark garb of two layers of overcoats was a single golden bauble hanging from a leather strip around his neck. From the three holes in the top, smoke that smelled heavily of sage curled lazily and rose into the cavities of his skull.

    If only he could be so calm.

    They encountered little trouble, as she was quick to flash her teeth and clap her jaws together with a sharp snap at anyone who got too close or thought it a good idea to linger in her path.However, there was little that did get in their way to begin with, as the undead horse stayed close to the curb while she navigated the lunch rush under his direction.

    The duo came to a halt at the blaring red glow of a traffic light, and Samhain’s attention directed itself to the pedestrians as they crossed to and fro in front of her. But, her single ear swiveled from the teeming masses to her rider for a brief moment, along with a soothing sensation that washed over their link.

    Per usual, the mare was as preceptive as ever.

    You have been stressed since we arrived outside the city limits.

    ...It hasss been a long while sssince I have actually ssspent time in the city. It takesss time to get ussed to it. He replied mentally, but Samhain did not seem so convinced- and she was quick to voice it.

    That has not been the subject of your thoughts.

    The undead sighed, and willed his shoulders to shrug from their tense position with a chorus of snaps and pops. Ssss... You are correct, He admitted, I do not like being around so many mortalsss, ssso many sssapient mindsss. It makess me uneasssy, raisssesss a lot of ifss... Bringsss up unpleassant memoriesss. His tone quieted slightly upon that final note.

    There was a pause from the mare as the light turned green, and she stepped with the flow of traffic to turn down another street. Her iron shoes clapped and briefly spat sparks as the spikes upon them scraped the asphalt.

    We do not need to be here, it is not like I need extra protection. You have seen yourself how resilient I am.

    Mortis quickly shook his head, and rose a clawed hand to adjust the brim of his hat. No, you are due for a set of armor if we are going to ssstart frequently encountering trouble when we go outssside the farm. Thiss isss necessary. He insisted -perhaps more to himself than the horse.

    The moment his hand returned to the reins, the undead’s nervous energy rerouted itself to his tail, which flicked side to side beneath the cover of his black duster. His steed’s ear flicked back to him briefly again, before another wave of calming thought flowed over their link to still its anxious fidgeting.

    You are certain there are no other places to go for this? Is there no one in the country that would be able to do this?

    If it made him stop tapping his claws against her reins and flexing his toes against her stirrups like an anxious barn mouse, the mare was willing to offer as many alternatives to navigating this noisy, packed metropolis as she could. But, her master continued to press the importance of being in the city, surrounded up to his eye sockets in people and twice as anxious.

    There is no one else that I know of, and learning the craft of making good barding for you would take yearsss- not that you are not worth it, mon desstrier, but I do not like the thought of you being needlesssly vulnerable for that long. He replied, the superfiend’s talons began to tap an anxious beat against the leather of her reins as he swiveled his skull around to take in his surroundings. The people here ssshould be able to have the materialsss I am looking to ussse ass well.

    The Kev-Lard?

    Mortis was quick to correct her. Kevlar, Sssammy... Maybe plasssteel too, if we are fortunate.

    The city was a place of many boons that the country often lacked. Although he was of the opinion that if there was a basic method of law enforcement outside the city, there would be developments made to remedy that problem. Until then, the finer materials were best sought from the metropolis, instead of hopeful scavenging among ruined edifices. Turning down another street, His empty eye sockets caught a glimpse of red brick, an old multi-story structure that otherwise was unassuming compared to the shops that occupied the ground floor. However, it was the one shop on the corner of the block that caught the undead’s attention.

    In glowing neon Mortis read; Jo’s Chop Shop and Robot Repair.

    Samhain’s ear and a stub flicked back towards him. Though she could not read, she heard the translation in her Master’s head.

    That does not sound like someone who would make armor.

    His attention glanced back towards the mare as he guided her towards the seemingly small shop. On the contrary, I hear they are ssssurprisssingly verssatile. My brother visssited them at one point and--

    I detect life inside, people.

    A chill raced down the undead’s spine at that note, and whatever budding optimism quickly wilted. Life, a confined space, possibly needing to be in close proximity of the living because of said close space. His claws gripped the reins a little tighter. ”Ssss! Sssss! Ssssss!”

    For a moment it seemed like a brilliant idea to drop this excursion entirely and see if maybe he did indeed overlook another craftsperson, one outside the city, one that was not alive and unable to be corrupted. He could already see another disastrous repeat of past events.

    The sudden flare of unease was impossible for the horse to ignore. At times like this, her master could be worse than one of her own species. Thankfully, she had the strength of will to act as the level head between them.

    Master, you must not worry so much. You will not kill someone just by walking in the door. Remember the afternoon with that girl and the dog-creature?

    The only response was another anxious hiss. That had been outside, in the open air where there was plenty of space to spare! This was different, this was confined, cramped. He was uncertain if even the purifying effects of the sage smoke would help anything.

    Yes it will. You will not spend a week in there talking, Master. The smoke will be fine. You will be fine.

    Despite her efforts it took the mare some time to push aside the rising anxiety in her Master’s thoughts. Her nostrils flared with a dull huff as she stepped over the curb, once again a wash of soothing thought was needed.  The undead horse approached the building and came to stand just behind the edge of one of the large display windows. Her head turned and leaned down to peer inside, Samhain’s rictus grin was barely inches away from the glass as she curiously scanned the interior. Thus was how she used her time while she patiently waited for her master’s form to ease itself from its uneasy rigor. After a few moments, she heard a few pops and snaps as his joints emerged from their stiffened state, and soon after was a grounding facsimile of a sigh.

    Thank you, mon dessstrier. He graciously hissed across their link, and within moments a psychic pat and rub against the side of her neck was given as praise.

    A rough snort was the mare’s reply, this had become something of a regular occurrence during the time it took to find the shop to begin with, and his tension over this particular issue was a matter she was deeply familiar with thanks to the events of the previous year. But at heart, the horse simply did not like seeing him so unsettled.

    His skull swiveled to look towards the shop. ”Right, enough of thisss, I mussst talk bussiness with the craftssmen and women inssside.” Mortis rasped, and swung his leg over the mare’s back to hop down from the saddle.

    Clawed feet scraped the cement sidewalk as he made his way to the door, pushing it aside as he walked in. Rough cement was exchanged for the soft slap of his leathery soles against the smooth flooring, the front desk was in sight. But, as he let the door close behind him, he took pause. A muffled nicker behind him drew his attention, and his skull swiveled around to look through the window. Samhain’s permanently grinning face stared back at him, before bobbing her head in an encouraging nod.

    I will be here if you need me.

    Of course, there was nowhere else the horse would be. Mortis had brought her along in case the employees needed to see her during the course of discussing the armor. But even so, some part of her reassurance eased the undead’s concerns a smidgen more. So long as they were mentally connected, she would -literally in spirit- be there with him the whole way. His skull swiveled back to the front desk, and he stepped up to it in long, creaking strides. The unabiding architecture forced his usually towering posture to curve and stoop as he came to loom over it, his snout idly tilting to either side before he found a single silver bell on the counter.

    Gingerly he raised a gnarled, yellow talon to give it a brisk tap, a sharp chime rang surprisingly clear and loud from the device that could easily fit within his rotten green palm. His other hand dipped into the inner pocket of his duster, retrieving a black, leather bound notebook. The edge of a folded piece of paper stuck crookedly out from the top as he brought it to rest on the glassy surface.

    Now he was prepared to talk, but who would he be talking with?
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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Zurg on Mon May 29, 2017 3:54 pm

    "Ugh, Big Z... that is like so gross." It wasn't every day Zurg managed to earn a gag out of his companion, but when he did... it was over something so innocuous as lunch. "Yum, yum, yum~!" he teased, taking another big bite. On today's menu was seafood - raw seafood - and the horned alien wasted no time in savouring every delectable morsel of fish, crustacean, and vegetable alike. "Oh Jo, you big baby," he smiled, chortling in-between chews. "It's just sushi~! People eat it all the time, and who knows? Maybe even you would enjoy a nibble if you weren't such a sourpuss about seafood." The mechanic only scrunched her nose in response, taking a cautious bite out of her sandwich; that he lovingly made earlier this morning, mind you. "I'd rather stick with my trustworthy ham and cheese, thanks..." Tut! She was missing out, but there was no point trying to make a moozle drink water. "Okaaaay, but it's your fune - "

    Ding, ding~!

    Both immediately glanced upward, all conversation abruptly tapering off. "Hmm... seems like there is a customer upstairs," Zurg muttered. Jo only agreed with a nod. "Yep, sounds like it. I'll go see what they want." But before she could even set aside her lunch and rise, the alien had already beaten her to the punch. A purple hand gently urged the woman to sit. "I'll handle this one," Zurg volunteered. "You just finish your lunch and resume the inventory check." Her beautiful brown eyes glistened with reluctance. Mostly love, but also reluctance. "Aww, but Big Z..." Jo pouted. He wagged a finger. "No buts~!"

    After a brief kiss and a nuzzle of their cheeks, the alien headed up the stairs and approached the lobby. "Hello, and welcome to Jo's Chop Shop and...?" Whew! What in the cosmos was that horrid smell!? His nose crinkled behind his veil. Ugh! Smelled like something had been left to rot in the afternoon sun... Which was, you know, not all that surprising.

    Why?

    Because there was currently a tall, shambling undead hovering near the storefront, that's why.

    Zurg eyed the sheep-skulled customer with mild abhorrence and paused in his tracks. "...Hmm." That's all he could rightfully say, to be honest. Even his thoughts were modest as his red eyes appraised the gangly fellow up and down. "I... don't suppose you're here for a pacemaker repair?" he half-jokingly inquired.


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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Mortis on Tue May 30, 2017 5:29 am

    Raw fish, lunch, thoughts of contentment and disgust mingled into the mental soup that ceaselessly chattered in the superfiend’s mind. Their thoughts mingled with the thousands that teemed upon the city streets outside. Even while his psychic perception of the city was muffled, they still droned in the back of his skull like a swarm of insects.

    ”Sssss...” The undead brought a clawed hand to gently rub the top of his bleached, skeletal forehead.

    Of course he would have come by during the employees’ lunch break. Although there was a thought that whispered in his senses, suggested that perhaps this was an opportunity to run. They would not serve him while they were eating lunch, surely. Therein, this excursion was a failure and it would be best to return to the wilderness before his aura began to cling to the storefront’s walls.

    Was it not appealing, to return to the quiet, safe grasslands? Was it not preferable to retreat from the thousands upon thousands of minds that could so easily be corrupted, that could befall the same fate as Veskur? With every minute he remained at the counter, lingering in the storefront like the malevolent specter he was, the chance of history repeating only grew stronger.

    The undead’s clawed toes curled against the floor with a harsh screech, and his rotted hands dove into the pockets of his duster to hide. His thoughts whispered on, digging into his psyche like hooked talons and gleaming fangs.

    How many more mercy killings would it take before you learned, Mortis? Was one death not enough for him to get it through his hollow skull that he had no business being here? Did the two employees had to be added to the list of victims who had fallen prey to fatal negligence? Certainly he should know better. He should know that he had no place among the living.
    However, just as quickly as the undead’s unease started to rise like a froth upon a simmering pot of water, it ceased.

    The thought was abruptly silenced and drowned beneath a riptide of reassuring thought, spilling over the link to wash around him in a comforting embrace. A familiar voice, strong and ever vigilant, spoke up.

    Hush, Master. You are doing it again.

    There was a loud clap of iron against pavement and Mortis’ skull swiveled once more towards the front window. Samhain snorted and gave another bob of her long, rot-eaten face. Within his mind he could feel her attempting to soothe his thoughts, smoothing over and wiping away that venomous mental chatter. It was a reassuring sensation, it felt like she was standing next to him with her jaw resting fondly upon his shoulder.

    You will be fine. I will be with you while you talk to the shop people, focus on the task at hand.

    That statement alone was enough to settle some of his unease, though likely was due to the fact it was Samhain who had said it. In return, there was a sensation upon the mare’s snout like a gentle pat and a pet between her mummified nostrils. Soon after came a sibilant response upon their mental link.

    My thanksss, Sssamhain. I would like that.

    His attention returned to the counter as he registered a life presence growing closer, approaching from the stairs further back. It barely took a cursory scan to recognize who came to meet him, and what he found made his claws curl all over again. It was not the mechanic, but the technician. He knew his name well:

    Zurg.

    ”ssssSSSSSsssss...” It was the one that his brother had foolishly invoked the wrath of during his first days on this planet.

    Though Mortis had not been present at the time of that fateful game of Uncle Zurg in the rear workshop, he had still witnessed the memory clearly. Though oddly enough, as the stink of decaying flesh hit the purple alien to the point were it interrupted his greeting, there was no memory of the fiasco with his brother following along with it. Perhaps over the four or so years, he had forgotten?

    An icy chill rolled off the undead superfiend alongside the vile wall of putrescent odor and set the shop’s temperature plummeting to frigid depths. Though the undead had not intended it, there was only so much that a little incense bauble filled with smoldering sage could do. Even so, the undead retrieved a clawed hand from his pocket to gingerly grasp the smoking trinket.

    Empty eye sockets met blazing red eyes, the latter’s owner pausing in their tracks at the sight.

    ”G-Greetingss...” Mortis finally rasped, if a little sheepish. "My apologiesss for affronting your sssenssssess, perhapsss it would be bessst if we talked outssside?"

    He was well aware of the abhorrence in his gaze, even if his thoughts were tempered.

    As well, it was hard to ignore the fact that he refused to step any closer from the doorway behind the storefront. Though admittedly, Mortis was completely comfortable with the added distance.

    As Zurg appraised him, he would find that the undead was garbed in long layers of coats that reached down to his ankles; A black duster was layered over an equally black trenchcoat, leaving the rotted remains of his uniform’s leathers and the grinning skull of his utility belt’s buckle barely peeking out. His skull was partially concealed beneath the wide brim of an equally dark hat. Otherwise, there was nothing to suggest he was akin to the undead lawman he had once been, aside from the length of silvery chain that hung freely down from his neck alongside the golden bauble. Though both hung a little more freely than they did when he was outside, due to the nature of the ceiling being unable to accommodate his imposing height.

    Mortis’ skull tilted at what may have been supposed to be a joke.

    ”No, I have no usse for a pacemaker. I have come to asssk if you would be able to craft ssome barding for my horssse.” He began, and swiveled his skull out towards the outdoors; the very airy, open outdoors. "May we ssspeak outssside, where it issss more airy? I-it may be easssier on your sssensssess if we are not within a confined ssspace."

    He sure knew it would grant himself ease of mind to know he was not spreading his aura all over the storefront.
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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Zurg on Sun Jun 04, 2017 8:07 pm

    ”G-Greetingss... My apologiesss for affronting your sssenssssess, perhapsss it would be bessst if we talked outssside?"

    Stuttering...?

    From this breath of fresh air?

    Zurg's expression remained as stoic as ever. "Due to liability and safety reasons, we will have to conduct business inside the establishment," he rumbled. "Thank you for your cooperation on this matter." No, there wasn't a choice. When it came to adhering protocol and avoiding unnecessary lawsuits, the ex-tyrant was an unrepentant stickler. Besides, the alien knew a few alternatives to a stuffy room. "Barding? For a horse?" He huffed, incredulous, and made one round throughout the storefront, opening all the windows where able. Fwup! Fwup! Fwup! His efforts rewarded them both with a light, cool breeze fluttering within the building. "Hmm, can't say we've gotten such a request before, but..." The alien finished his task and returned to the counter, standing near the register. "Depending on what you have in mind, it's doable." After all, Zurg wasn't just any sour-faced, horned alien. He was the sour-faced, horned alien.

    He crossed his muscular arms, shrugging. "If we're talking medieval or similar, the commission shouldn't take longer than a business week - two at the most, if the materials aren't supplied or are rare in quality. And if we're talking space-age and up, production will of course reflect the level of difficulty." As well as the size of the horse, but it was safe to assume that this... person's steed was none other than the shambling brute outside. Zurg took one look at the "horse" and sniffed. "...I don't suppose it needs a pacemaker, either."

    And no, Zurg had not forgotten about a certain bucket-wearing undead. He could put two-and-two together, but the monarch was being polite. Jo would have his purple head on a silver platter otherwise.


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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Mortis on Sun Jun 04, 2017 9:52 pm

    A stuttering, anxiety plagued undead, in his shop? It was more likely than Zurg thought.

    The undead was not certain what these liability and safety reasons were, but if he had to conduct business inside, then conduct it he would. Although, that did not stop his claws from curling and his anxiety from spiking again. As the purple alien went around and opened the windows, the undead grounded himself to the best of his abilities. Think of Samhain. This is for her, who was he to let his best friend down? She needed extra protection during their riskier excursions. He could not afford to lose anyone on his homestead.

    This was bigger than him, this was more important than his fears.

    A gentle reminder drifted across the mental link.

    I am right here, Master.

    ”Very... Very well.” Mortis rasped slowly, ”I will ssstay inssside asss per your reasssoning.”

    His agreement was a shaky one, but not in the way that he was conflicted about upholding it.He looked at the open windows, the outside noises of passing traffic clearer as the open air was allowed to drift through the storefront. He swiveled his skull back to the veiled, scowling face.

    ”Thank you.” He hissed appreciatively, that action allowed eased his anxiety, if only a little. ”I apologize again for the inconvenience, it isss not sssomething I can control.”

    He did not have to open the windows, but the undead figured it was more due to the reek of rotting flesh than any knowledge of his malignant presence and the threat it posed upon him. Even so, the thought of creating armor for a horse sounded strange to the horned being. The reason was soon revealed that no one had ever requested barding for a horse before. Likely due to the fact that there were not many horses around to begin with, or people that rode them as their transportation.

    ”The materialss I have in mind are modern, but plasssteel and kevlar ssshould not be too rare I would hope.” But by the uncertainty in the undead’s voice as he turned his attention to the journal that sat on the counter, he was ready to be proven wrong.

    Though Mortis was too preoccupied to notice the remark about his horse, Samhain’s disapproval came with a pin of her ears and a sharp huff from her mummified nostrils.

    The black, leatherbound journal was flipped open to the page marked by the odd piece of paper that jutted out. It fluttered out to sit on the countertop, threatening to unfold and reveal the sketchwork that covered the inside of what looked to be a page he had torn out of the book. The aforementioned pages that the folded paper had covered were illustrated in measurements down to the centimeter.

    Neck girth, spine length, distance from nose to forehead, the width between eye sockets... the list went on to every dimension possible of the towering undead monstrosity that waited patiently outside to the point where it filled one page and half of the neighboring page. One could quite easily build a model of the mare to scale based on the undead’s meticulous measurements.


    He ignored th page of measurements for the time being, and unfolded the sketch that he had in mind for the barding, and held it flat against the table. It was drawn out as if the undead had used drafting tools. Crisp, straight lines and clear curvatures followed a scratchy outline of the horse outside. There had been effort put into it, but it was clear that the undead was no nature artist. Next to it were lines that dictated the components for each part of the armor, which tended to be quite simple.

    Pasteel was indicated for the sturdier portions, while kevlar made up the parts that would be more free to move. As for the design, it looked as if medieval barding had a union with police riot armor. From nose to hip, the horse was completely covered in armor. Even the legs had armored boots that fit over them.

    ”I would like sssomething that givesss her full body protection, but room to move. We ssstay out in the wildsss, and tend to encounter a number of hossstile entitiesss.” He explained as he smoothed out the creases.

    It was not long before he moved onto the pages covered in labels and numbers written in clear, black ink on the journal pages.

    ”I made meassurementsss of every possible inch that could be necesssary for fitting. I triple checked them, ssso hopefully there will not be any complicationsss with fitting. I consssidered that one would not be ssso keen on taking further measssurementsss of Sssamhain.” He rasped respectfully. ”But if I have misssed anything, ssshe will cooperate for any posssible checking.”
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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Zurg on Mon Jun 12, 2017 3:54 pm

    Hmm, a nervous undead... Still a new phenomenon, but Zurg wasn't about to fuss. Compared to the other one, this gangly fellow was well-behaved. "It is not an inconvenience, no," the monarch reassured his bony client. Well-behaved and with an underlying struggle of poor confidence. The alien knew better than to pry, instead focusing on the words "plasteel" and "Kevlar". "Fairly modern, if not dated materials..." he muttered. Fairly easy, too. His client's fears were put to rest. "What you desire won't be much of a trouble," Zurg remarked, his voice level. "It will take a bit to acquire the necessary components, perhaps a day or two, but both the head mechanic and I can get the job done." That should hopefully lighten the undead's spirits, and that of his huffy steed. Red eyes flitted to the mare (Zurg assumed it was a mare) for a brief moment and returned to her rider.

    Oh good, the fellow already had a collection of measurements to go alongside a sketch of his commission.

    "Let's have a look-see..." Though his eyesight was keen, Zurg nevertheless retrieved his glasses and squinted to better read. It was a royal pain being far-sighted. To his imperceptible amazement, the undead had actually done a terrific job gathering all the data. Height, length, width, etc... It definitely cut a bit of work out of Zurg's day. However... "We'll have to quadruple-check your measurements; though, not because neither of us trust your skilled eye. It's purely to make certain that nothing goes amiss before we start turning your concepts into a reality." There was no harm in taking the time to measure the horse himself, even if this Samhain may prove testy. The alien removed his tired eyes off the blueprints and set his glasses aside on the counter.

    "Ah, so you live out in the wilds, hmm?" Can't say the monarch was an avid fan of the untamed lands beyond the city's limits, but there was an inexplicable charm to them; a feeling of wonder and apprehension. Mm, the thrill of discovery. "Yes, I reckon getting some protection for your steed is the responsible course of action. I'd leave nothing to chance." Better to be safe than sorry, no?

    He reached over, slow as to not startle his client, and retrieved a sizable roll of white measuring tape. "Now then... how would you like to go about us measuring your horse?"


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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Mortis on Tue Jun 13, 2017 4:19 pm

    Somehow, stinking like he had been rotting for several centuries and radiating a chilly, malignant presence was not inconvenient to the horned alien. Why? Who knew. But Mortis was glad that Zurg was still interested in what he intended to order, even moreso that plasteel and kevlar were not much trouble to obtain. Evidently in this world they were considered dated, but still modern.

    His rigid shoulders eased with a crackle and a pop from his ancient joints, a tension released that Mortis until then was unaware he was carrying.

    ”Oh good, thank you.” The undead gratefully replied to learning that it would not be too much trouble to put the materials together.

    He was right to presume it would hopefully lighten his spirits, though the undead refrained from answering Zurg’s thoughts. In the past it tended to be unsettling to those that were not expecting their thoughts to be so readily available to those who had the means. The last thing Mortis wanted was to sour the visit to the shop by making the technician uncomfortable. So, he instead waited as Zurg went on to look over the measurements he had gathered before coming here. A pair of reading glasses were withdrawn to better read the writing.

    Mortis could not read the amazement on Zurg’s face, or any other expression upon it for that matter. He looked just as stoic as he had when he stepped in to the storefront. But even so, it seemed that triple checking was not thorough enough. But all the same, what would a forth measurement hurt? Zurg merely wanted to make sure everything was in order before they got too far ahead of themselves.

    ”Certainly, I will allow another measssuring.” Mortis agreed with a small, but noisy nod of his head.

    After all, he still could have missed something. He mentally glanced back across the line to the mare who was still watching and waiting outside. She heard what Zurg had to say as well, though Mortis ensured that it was made clear to the towering undead mare. Her nostrils flared with a small blow, but affirmed that she knew she was going to be measured.

    I am fine with this, he may measure me if it is necessary.

    ”Sssamhain alsso agreesss to being meassured.” Mortis added.

    Perhaps that would also give the technician some ease in regards to being near the towering undead animal. After all, horses were intimidating creatures for a number of reasons, aside from having a reputation for being dangerously unpredictable. Thankfully being able to literally read the mare's thoughts cut through a lot of guesswork on body language that her rotted form did not readily give.

    His attention turned back to the purple alien as he mentioned the wilderness. ”Yesss, in the grassslandsss. Though we ssstay at the edge of the woodsss.” He rasped, the undead’s claws came to curl over one another.

    All the while, Mortis was careful of the distance between them as Zurg went to retrieve a roll of measuring tape. He did not wish to accidentally get in his way or bump into the alien as he got what he needed.

    ”If you have a place open to bring her inssside, like a garage, I could lead her around to it.” Something told the undead that Zurg likely was uninterested in measuring the animal out in the open. ”I can hold her while you do the measssuring, ssshe will cooperate and sstand ssstill throughout.” He offered.

    It need not be said that Zurg could measure in whichever method was best suited to his work, that was a given.

    Samhain was not the type to spook easily, despite her species. When needed, she could tolerate plenty of discomfort- though it would not be of a physical nature. The dead do not feel, after all. The dead also did not leave a bushel of horse-apples all over the work floor, which perhaps would be another plus for the horned alien.
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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Zurg on Mon Jun 19, 2017 11:58 pm

    To make a long story conveniently short, Zurg was stronger than the average bear. He'd also seen a lot more than the average bear, too... What was one shambling, smelly undead to, say, an inter-dimensional being capable of leveling an entire city with but a single gaze? Or the God of Gods swooping down from up high and nearly cleaving the world in twain? Though the otherworldly chill was uncomfortable, yes. Just a bit.

    ”Certainly, I will allow another measssuring.”

    Huff, puff!

    ”Sssamhain alsso agreesss to being meassured.”

    Oh good, the sheep-skulled patron and his leathery horse continued to be agreeable. This made the process (and Zurg's day) all the merrier. "The edge of the woods, is that right?" he remarked. A reasonably safe location, the alien supposed. Not too far from civilization should help be needed, but not too close as to be hounded by foot traffic and urban annoyances. Zurg couldn't help but wonder... would Jo enjoy something like that? They had been meaning to find a second property, a retreat from modern life, for quite some time... Hmm, it was worth looking into, but later. There was work to be done. Contrary to what Mortis assumed, the horned monarch was perfectly comfortable with measuring the former's steed where she lumbered.

    "Where she's currently is fine," he reassured his client. "I am simply going to compare your measurements with ours; no need to distress her." Besides, measuring an undead horse was undoubtedly going to attract a few (or many) curious gazes. It was free publicity; whether it was good or otherwise, this minor detail hardly concerned the alien.

    Gathering the measuring tape in his right hand and Mortis' schematics in his left, Zurg motioned toward the front of the shop as he strode across its lobby. "Shall we?" he invited, opening the door. A refreshing breeze surged through, the outside world lively. "If you'd like to hold and soothe her, be my guest. Or, if you prefer, you may stay indoors and make yourself comfortable. Either is fine. This won't take too much of your time, and I won't dilly-dally." When it came to getting the job done on time and with impeccable professionalism, the alien seldom missed his mark. Sorry, Jo, but you had a tendency to procrastinate.

    Take note~!


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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

    Post by Mortis on Sat Jul 01, 2017 3:41 pm

    The undead nodded, with a chorus of popping withered joints. ”Correct.” Though the edge of which wood was not specified.

    The undead was not certain if his home was indeed next to the immense Kindle Forest, or if it merely was a smaller wood. Regardless, such details were not important or necessary. Their business was the horse armor, not where the undead superfiend decided to dwell. Zurg seemed fine with measuring Samhian out on the street, instead of bringing her around to a garage.

    ”I sssee, very well.” Whatever that something had told him, it evidently was wrong.

    But it was fine to be wrong, Mortis was wrong about most everything nearly all the time. It was something that quickly became a norm in regards to his interactions with anyone and everyone outside of his animals. So long as Zurg did not grow ill from his aura, and said aura did not start to leech into the walls of the shop, Mortis was fine to say nothing else regarding it. He placed little thought upon the earlier exchange, and simply stepped aside to give the horned alien the proper space as he stepped to the door. The proper space in the undead’s mind was a good few feet, and such was how far he stood away from the purple technician.

    ”I can sstand with her.” He readily agreed.

    It was better than standing inside the shop; the small, confined storefront that would easily become seeped with his malignant presence should he linger for too long. The sooner he removed himself from it the better.

    Outside, the horse in question waited patiently, her head raising from where she had been looking in through the window with a soft huff upon the door opening. The mare’s shoulder stood a good foot and a half above the technician’s head, and her own equine snout towered even higher upon a muscled -albeit partially rotted- neck. Mummified nostrils flared as she curiously sniffed at the technician in the doorway, but otherwise made no malicious or threatening movements. Her posture reflected this, as the edge of a rear hoof rested lazily upon the pavement. True to what Mortis had stated earlier, she was comfortable with being measured.

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    Re: No Relation To The DLC

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