MISTRESS

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Tag: necrow

  • You Didn’t Die…

    …but there are some things worse than death.

    You don’t remember anything but the gnashing of teeth and the rending of flesh.

    As the muscles, bones, and nerves of your friends’ limbs mend with your own, you feel their final moments of agony seep into your mind. Your wounds burn, ichor oozing from between the sutures binding them. You try to crawl away—somewhere, anywhere—but you discover with swelling terror that all of your strength has abandoned you.

    Your resolve crumbles as you writhe in darkness, stripped bare, helpless.

    “A fine surgery, truly,” croaks a voice from the shadows. Above you, two glowing, emerald orbs regard your disfigurement with keen interest. The stench of decay is overwhelming as Necrow looms over you.

    “There wasn’t much left once Matryoshka had her fill,” he concedes, “But I gathered what I could find and brought it to the Mistress. You were just a ragged lump of meat before, and now look at you… A work of art!”

    Twin rows of glistening ivories are exposed in a hideous simulacrum of a smile. A black, bony hand caresses your naked flesh, admiring your trembling frame. Your skin crawls as it slowly inspects every inch of you, piece by piece. Saliva runs from between its owner’s teeth and onto your exposed belly. The foul liquid is colder than anything you’ve ever touched, instantly taking your breath away with a fluttering gasp.

    “Such beauty,” he continues, “Should be shared.”

    Necrow stands astride you now, the dark magic animating him swirling in the black sockets of his skull. As you muster the will to resist, a sinewy foot presses against your ribs, pinning you to the chamber floor and squeezing the air from your lungs. He slips his hallux claw into your navel, perhaps as a warning.

    You can feel it poking inside you.

    “Would you indulge me in a dance?” he asks coyly, his head turning a full circle on his elongated neck as he leans in closer. “I am something of a connoisseur of the flesh, and yours has stirred within me a most bothersome fascination.”

  • Welcome to the World of MISTRESS.

    Happy Halloween from the cast of MISTRESS!

    All tricks, no treats… except YOU. You’re the treat.

  • Battle Log 2.

    Necrow greeted a few guests while the Mistress was preoccupied.

  • Quick Time Event.

    • As you round the corner, you hear the sound of wet footsteps quickly approaching from behind. You turn and raise your torch, but the crackling flame reveals only the same empty, windowless hallway you just traversed. Are your ears playing tricks on you…?

    • You feel something slimy dripping onto your shoulder. An icy chill climbs your spine as your gaze shoots upward.

    • Necrow roars with laughter as his melting frame drops from above! There’s only a split-second to react!

    PARRY ⭆ ((Ⓧ)) ⭅ ◔ ⭆ ((Ⓑ)) ⭅ EVADE

  • Festival of Frights.

    Scary Christmas is a little overdone. How about Haunted Hanukkah instead?

    Fun fact: It takes 5 donors for a full 8 nights of celebration at Mundus Mortis! Tell your friends!

  • What Strange Delights.

    “Such exquisite beauty, oh yes…! This symphony swirling inside of me… I can’t control myself, I must dance! Mistress, I implore you… dance with me again!”

    What’s left of Necrow? Only a shred of what could be recognized as a man. And yet, certain earthly desires persist, even in undeath. Grizelda’s ichor gives her direct control over mortal flesh while she’s tethered, but has other effects when injected into a non-host. In small doses, the subject becomes vulnerable to suggestion: a sort of chemical-induced hypnosis. As the dose increases, they begin to lose their sense of self until they can no longer perform tasks without prompting. This condition isn’t irreversible, assuming that the source of ichor exposure is removed.

    When a subject is continuously injected with ichor over an extended period of time, however, changes begin to take place. Small ones, at first: A faint green shimmer in the eyes, limpness of the skin, scattered loss of hair, feathers, and scales. As the exposure continues, these changes become more pronounced. At a certain point, the body ceases to produce blood entirely, its diseased heart pumping only the ichor poisoning it.

    Few of Grizelda’s test subjects have survived this type of exposure for more than a few months. As her essense rots them from within, their flesh usually withers until their soul is consumed. Necrow is different. For reasons yet unknown, his body eventually adapted to the presence of the ichor, allowing him limited regenerative powers and extending his lifespan. Grizelda has been using samples of his flesh in her research since his metamorphosis, and ensures that his urges are handled on a regular basis to keep him pliable. Not that he needs much encouragement, given his bottomless devotion to his creator.

  • True Believer.

    “I flew, once… I don’t miss it, though. Mistress showed me that I was more useful here, so now I walk. If you play nicely, she’ll let you walk again, as well.”

    One of Grizelda’s first test subjects, now her most loyal acolyte. Hundreds of years have passed since he was reborn as Necrow, an undead husk animated by her ichor, and while his flesh has remained mostly intact in that time, his mind has not. Once a jealous mortal rival, he has since completely surrendered his black heart and soul to Grizelda. His unwavering loyalty is often rewarded with inclusion in her most depraved schemes and desires. Though he can no longer remember his former life or even his name, Necrow isn’t concerned with such trifles; seeing her Grand Experiment through to the very end by putting himself at her disposal is the only thing that drives him.

    What is the Grand Experiment? Grizelda has never made its ultimate goal clear to anyone but herself. Her relentless investigations into the preservation and regeneration of the flesh she’s hoarded in her compound suggests that the monstrosities she’s assembled so far are just the beginning of her mad ambitions.