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First we learn to use our hands.; Closed, Lord Massacre.
Topic Started: Dec 30 2005, 12:19 PM (464 Views)
Isabella Williams
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It was not unknown to little Isa's family that she had a tendency not to concentrate. Free to pursue flights of fancy and play all day now freed from her parental guardianship, her parental figures had worried that perhaps she would forget why she was here; to learn, to grow, and so, before she left they tried to press upon her the importance of what she was, and of learning their craft.

They were not necromancers of the common kind, her grandmother would begin, but rather working for some higher purpose, a cause greater than themselves. Their duty was to ensure that the dead stayed dead, and were not free to wander about. The bells were crafted with this in mind, and soon her grandmother would leave her - and go where, Isa wondered - and it would be left to her to be sure that she had the skills and knowledge to be able to bind and send back what should not be left wandering in Life.

It was an important job, Isa decided as they explained, and she swore grandly to return after her education was complete as a fully-fledged necromancer and binder, adept in traversing death and having complete mastery of the seven bells, in the name of the Seven Bright Shiners.

There are in fact, a total of Nine Bright Shiners, but Isabella was told that two of them do not count, as they were disobedient and opposed the Charter, and so they were sealed, and the remaining Seven poured themselves into the Seven Bells; their names were Ranna, Mosrael, Dyrim, Belgaer, Kibeth, Saraneth, and Astarael.

And so in conclusion, her Grandmother had summed up, it was her solemn duty to learn how to protect herself and fend off the dark creatures of Death, bind them and send them back to whence they came. She was given two of the most harmless bells to protect her; Ranna and Dyrim, and was promised the rest when she had grown and mastered the ones she had.

Bells are not the only weapons a necromancer has, however, and with envious green eyes Isabella spied the sword her Grandmother had owned, once, and now could no longer wield. Nehima; a long, elegant blade spelled with Charter magic, so the symbols flowed freely beneath the surface of the blade, occasionally shifting their patterns to spell out words that Isabella could read.

Nehima boldly announced its name, its infusion with the Charter and claimed to have been forged by the Eight Bright Shiner himself. Upon questioning the purpose of the sword, as well as the ethics involved in having a dangerous weapon lying about the house, Isabella was told the following by her Father, who was around so rarely, she tended to listen to him when he was:

"First, Isabella, we learn to use our hands. Then, our hands can learn to use weapons."

And so that, really, was why she was here. Because against all the belief to the opposite amongst her family, Isabella had taken this seriously. She held this quest aloft with all the magnificence and importance it should have, and took it upon herself to fulfil it; like the knights of old in the days when dragons and quests were real, and, smiling, she threw herself into preparations for it.

Amidst studying passages from the Grimoire that taught of Death and all things related; of Dead Hands and the many lower Denizens of Death, or Mordicants and worse things, of legendary necromancers, of Free Magic and of the Charter, of the Nine Bright Shiners, it was also necessary for her to learn to use what she had.

Not just Ranna and Dyrim, but her body; her hands and feet, arms, legs, every joint and muscle, her tail for balance and senses to become aware of everything, and in doing so she could learn to establish an advantage over any enemy.

This was not as easy as it seemed. During the three days of every month when her instincts rose to fill her body and she became more cat than human, then she could fight. Fight like a frenzied thing of claws and fur and fury and hissing and spitting, and quick, agile movements to duck and swerve and dodge and dive with teeth and claws and fist at any vulnerable part of the body.

Now, however, it had passed, and she stood calm and passive as always, tail flicking impetuously in the air behind her. Master Jacob would train her, she knew, but at the same time she did not wish to be embarrassed in front of him. She stood for something powerful, representing ancient magic, and that should not be made a mockery of by a small cat-like girl in denim jean-shorts over smooth, tanned legs, trainer-socks and white trainers with a stripe of red, and a sunshine-yellow baby-doll shirt with the white head of Japan's infamously famous feline stitched across it.

Tail flicked again and ears twitched, and she hopped from one foot to the other, copying someone she saw far ahead, grabbing one ankle behind her with an outstretched hand and hopping on the remaining leg. She wasn't sure what the purpose of this exercise was, and felt more than a little ridiculous bouncing on one foot whilst trying to keep her balance. Presently, she saw her interest switch foot, and copied, a ponytail full of thick black hair bobbing about behind her swaying head.

Simple enough, wasn't it? There was equipment scattered about, perhaps she ought to start hitting something. Still; a little guidance would be useful.
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Lord Massacre
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OOC: Sorry for the wait. I've been out vacationing. It happens. Anyway...

IC>>>>>

(It started in the confines of his room. That is to say, in al the time he'd been here, been a graduate even, he had yet to move out. That was kind of funny, considering all the forward-thinking plans he had for his future, the life and destiny he had taken a hold of. But things for this guy started one day at a time. Today, it started with an alarm. The clock-radio had been re-wired into a CD-player, whose speakers had been jury-rigged into slightly-larger model that were near the actual bed that he slept in. The fact that he was alone meant that the other occupant of the room was already out. The clock struck a particular moment of choice by the sleeper and activated the alarm, which activated the CD-player instead. It cued into a track from his Final Fanyasy 7 album and played a rather pleasant tune, which was one of the character themes. Slowly, the owner of the room opened his eyes into darkness. He had blue eyes and black hair. He was dressed in black jeans and navy-blue shirt - short-sleeved. In the darkness, he looked around and saw no other occupant to the room.)

"Must've gone out already..."

(Smirking slightly, he shut off the music and proceeded to try and wae himself the hard way. A loud zap of energy and and a shout of pain followed later, as he had picked up his sword, a blade that was approximately bastard-sword shaped, crossguard included, with three pearls - two black and one white - on the pommel of the sword. The shock didn't really hurt him. In fact, he needed it, in a ay. The blade was caled Ixyzion, the Mageslayer of Lightning. He was called Jake Mulcahy, and was master of this blade. They were bonded, both deriving strength from each other, and from the elements of wind and lightning.)

Jake: Plus, it beats the hell out of coffee.

(He wondered, briefly, where it was that the other occupant of the room - not to mention, of his life - had gone to. Her name: Marina Bluemoon. A worthy opponent, a good friend, and so much more... She was a warrior, same as him, skilled in a sword much larger than Ixyzion, a trait that her people certainly shared. She and him were given to training at often times, usually with each other, but she also liked to train alone. Jake wondered where he might find her.)

Jake: Perhaps the gym...

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(A few moments later, he had stepped into the gym. Most of the attendants were giving him dirty looks, largely because he'd caused a helluva great mess in here, an epidemic that had originally began with Marina and her sister, Kari, when they all first met. Nevertheless, they could hardly refuse him. He could wipe the floors with them all. In any case, he did not see her here. However, the place was not lacking in catgirls. Indeed, Marina came from one such race, though they were not a tailed race. Regardless, there was a neko-type here, and doing something that Jake found rather peculiar. She was mimicking the actions of some other student, who did not even appear to notice. Furthermore, it was some kind of aerobics, which Jake had never found a use for, personally. He decided to lend some advice on the subject. Carefully sidling close enough to the girl to be heard, he said...)

Jake: You'll never get anywhere just by copycatting. Learning isn't just acting. It's understanding.

(This was something Jake knew at heart. To copy is nothing. To do something that has been taught and understand why... That is real. Jake, for instance, knew the ways of Jeet Kune Do. Did he understand just by watching martial arts movies? No. He listened to words spoken by the master himself, Bruce Lee, and understood. He never knew the man, of course. It was all recordings. But still, to learn is to understand. One cannot be water by just saying so. Words can only put you on the path. After that, one must choose how to walk...and tread carefully.)
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Isabella Williams
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The advice was friendly, and obviously meant well. However, Isabella was concentrating so hard on watching the girl's movements, and just in the process of switching leg again when she heard him.

"You'll never get anywhere just by copycatting. Learning isn't just acting. It's understanding."

A high-pitched squeal left her as she fell backwards, landing hard on her backside, and blinking those large green eyes, trying to blink away the bewilderment.

"Ayuh?" It wasn't the most coherent of opening statements, so she blinked twice more, craned her head back to try and see the mammoth figure that towered over her, and tried again.

"Umm, sorry, I kinda thought... it'd be easy. You know? People come to gyms to get strong and stuff, I didn't know you had to... learn what to do." She finished miserably; it was difficult to explain, but that was it in a nutshell.

On television and in books, when the heros needed to get stronger they went into a place like this with punching bags and ladders on the walls and they dressed in shorts and t-shirts and just hit things and it all seemed easy and they got strong in no time at all. They didn't spend time thinking about what to do, or how to fight, they just... did it. She had assumed that this was just how things worked, and that she would find it similarly easy when trying.

After all, why would the books lie to her, or mislead her?

She planted her feet firmly against the floor, lost in the bewildering grey smog of thought. He was tall, well, he looked tall, he might not have been so tall when she wasn't on the ground. His eyes were blue, the clear concentrated kind of colour that you don't often see, and his hair as dark as hers. She tilted her head to one side, a crooked smile across her face.

"M'Isabella." She said simply, scooting backwards on the vinyl floor and scampering up to her feet; dusting palms together and then rubbing them on her shorts, "Isabella Williams." And then she blinked, and noticed that he was carrying a very large sword.

"Woooah. Whatcha need that for?" The tip of her tail raised as she spoke, and absent-mindedly scratched the top of her head, as if illustrating a point.

((Bleh. Forgive me for I am sick.))
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Lord Massacre
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(He could understand immediately why this girl reacted to his sudden words that way, falling over and looking up at him like that, with such surprise. He was quiet. Or rather, he was quiet when he wanted to be. Jake could make quite a ruckus when he wanted to, most assuredly. However, at this time, he felt maybe a small bit embarassed for making her fall over like that. He could have timed it better, or even waited for her to finish the act. Now, she was explaining herself a little.)

"Umm, sorry, I kinda thought... it'd be easy. You know? People come to gyms to get strong and stuff, I didn't know you had to... learn what to do."

(He smiled a sort of half-grin at this.)

Jake: Actually, they do alot of things here. But that student was doing aerobics. It keeps you fit, but it doesn't make you a better fighter, for instance. To do that, you'd be focusing on how hard you can hit, how fast you can act, and other stuff like that there. I use to come here alot.

(He seemed to be somewhat imposing to the girl, especially since she was still on the floor. Jake would've helped her up if she wasn't already helping herself up with little difficulty. She also seemed to be a might bit confused and preoccupied about something. It probably had something to do with the subject of conversation. In fact, yes, that would make a great deal of sense. Only, what she was going to say or do about it, if anything, was not to be discerned. The catgirl decided to introduce herself.)

"M'Isabella. Isabella Williams."

Jake: I'm Jake. Jake Mulcahy.

(He was about to say something further when a look of surprise caught on her face, looking at him. No, not at him. Past him. She was looking at Ixyzion.)

"Woooah. Whatcha need that for?"

(The demon sword was on his back, planted there and keeped there without an actual holster or anything. Ixyzion was technically alive and had will. It was also a fact that Jake had will on it. But in any case, he explained the reason the sword accompanied him.)

Jake: I was expecting to meet a friend here for a little swordplay. It's something of a hobbie we do, testing each other's strengths, again and again. Two warriors bonded in a shared fate can find that alot can be said by expressing it through the clashing of blades. It's sort of a Zen kind of thing, really. But anyway, she's not here and I don't have a clue where she went, so I'm kinda' stuck without a 'dance-partner' right now.

(He had a feeling that he'd gotten himself into something here. It happened alot. He'd go around and talk to someone about a few things. And then, strangely enough, one thing leads to another and he sudden wonders how that person would fair in a little spar. These things happen when you're the battle-oriented type.)
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Isabella Williams
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"I was expecting to meet a friend here for a little swordplay. It's something of a hobbie we do, testing each other's strengths, again and again. Two warriors bonded in a shared fate can find that alot can be said by expressing it through the clashing of blades. It's sort of a Zen kind of thing, really. But anyway, she's not here and I don't have a clue where she went, so I'm kinda' stuck without a 'dance-partner' right now."

Dance? Bu... with a sword...?

She blinked. The things he said weren't making a great deal of sense to her; Isabella wasn't terribly good at interpreting manners of speech, she was used to simply being told things literally and simply and understanding from that. The boy's words perplexed her a little, but she managed to glean a little from what he said.

He was on his own, too.

"Um, I have a sword," she piped up, hoping it might become a talking about. "She's called Nehima. It means 'Forget me not'. Kinda too big for me though, I don't really know how to use her properly... she was my grandma's, for the family err-- business."

His name was Jake, funny, that. She seemed to meet a lot of Jakes. It might become confusing.

He seemed a lot more serious than the other Jake she knew, but friendly enough. She nodded absently when he spoke, in that distracted way that people do when they aren't really listening, but are more just waiting for a break in conversation, so they can speak.

"So, you know all abouts this stuffs? Um, d'ya think that maybe you could, err, show me some of the stuff you can do? With Trixie, err, the sword, Izy...Ixy..." She gave up and simply pointed, "that. Maybe? Please?"
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Lord Massacre
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OOC: Just on a note, the name "Ixyzion" is pronounced "ICK-see-on". The Z is silent.

IC>>>>>

(Something he said was a bit confusing to the girl, but he wasn't sure what it was. Of course, 'dance-partner' was fairly-common slang between fighters and warriors, meaning something more along the lines of 'fight-partner', both serious and not. It didn't matter, though. For whatever reason now, Jake had caught this girl's attention - and he had nothing else to do at the moment - so he decided to just hang out. Who knows? She might be pretty good, after all.)

"Um, I have a sword. She's called Nehima. It means 'Forget me not'. Kinda too big for me though, I don't really know how to use her properly... She was my grandma's, for the family err-- business."

(Now, Jake blinked. He wasn't sure what kind of family business that Isabella could be talking about. With a big sword, you could be a mercanery, a hitman, a bodyguard - lots of things. Of course, Jake wasn't even nearly on the mark, but he wouldn't know this without prying, and he didn't feel like asking just yet, as he noted that Isabella was more or less still wanting to speak. The best way for people to listen to you is for them to be done talking.)

"So, you know all abouts this stuffs? Um, d'ya think that maybe you could, err, show me some of the stuff you can do? With Trixie, err, the sword, Izy...Ixy..."

(She pointed at his sword now.)

Jake: Oh, you mean Ixyzion. Yeah, I could show you some- ...Hmmm? Wait a minute... -of my stuff.

(There was a little pause, as Jake thought about something, inwardly. When did he tell her the name of his sword? He could've sworn that he hadn't mentioned its name up until now. Well, it didn't matter, so he decided to go ahead and show some skills. What harm could it do? Jake stood back a little...and noticed some of the gym attendants shouting "HIT THE DECK!!" as he drew out his sword. People nearby observed caution now, as Jake was well-known for trashing the gym...even when he wasn't all that powerful!)

Jake: This is a demon-sword that uses both wind and lightning. It took me a long time to master it.

Pffft! Yeah, right! You merged with me on one day, goofed off alot, then got stronger through your fits of rage and going partially-insane.

Jake: Shut up, 'Trixie'.

Don't call me that again.

Jake: Then, don't blame ME for circumstances I couldn't control.

(It should be noted that the conversation Jake just had with Ixyzion was in his head. The only other person who could hear Ixyzion any other time than when Ixyzion didn't want to be heard...was Jake's 'dance partner', Marina. Anyway, Jake held Ixyzion in one hand and began with a few long swings that were executed for emphasis, because with each swing he made, a forceful gust of wind followed. Next, Jake looked over at a far off punching bag - a big one - and executed a number of slices that were extremely fast. This created a bunch of attacks which Jake called the Aero Turbo Slice. They were projected slices that used wind as a medium. The gym was, suffice to say, cut apart as if it had been run through up close by the actual sword. Jake was only getting warmed up, though. There was a blaze of lightning as a swing of the sword created a row of lightning bolts that struck the ceiling flashily. The lights had gone out because of it, and Jake was zipping up there, himself, as if he'd leaped. Only it wasn't a leap, it was flight...)

Jake: YAHOO!!!

(Up there, where nobody could even get hurt, Jake put on an awesome display. Perfectly in tune with his rhythmic sword-styling, he created lightning slashes and energy bolts, whirlwinds and lots of wind blasts. He was a god-awful storm, a natural disaster. Jake was, to put it mildly, someone you just didn't want to mess with. Moments later, he let it calm down as he returned to the ground. Then, he turned to Isabella, smiling earnestly, and asked her...)

Jake: So, what did you think?
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Isabella Williams
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The display was much of the same, really, so at one point Isabella had used the interval to slip out, and return with her own sword, her Nehima; 'forget me not'. The necromantic sword, etched with Charter mark upon Charter mark, until it looked as if the entire Charter itself swirled beneath the surface of the metal blade.

It was beautifully formed, but relied on the swirling, ever-shifting changing pattern of Marks that ran like water beneath the surface, colour spilling into another, from silvers to golds and all shades of green and blue and everything else, and words floated detached, and letters, symbols; in this language and others, proclaiming many things.
It was how Nehima spoke, how all Charter-imbued weapons spoke, through the Charter, and for the Charter. Isabella ran her hands wonderingly over the metal, supposedly forged by one of the Bright Shiners; one of the Nine.

It was beautiful, the marks looking similar to the ones that adorned her bells, but so many more, every mark she could ever need; only a tenth of which she could hope to use. A beautiful thing to own, but she could not use it. The blade felt heavy and awkward in her hands, and she had no hope of dazzling anyone with a similar display. Not with this weapon, at least.

On previous jaunts into Death, Isabella had used her twin katars, the bladed apparatus that strapped to her hands, and allowed her the freedom to ring the bells whilst attacking; something which had come in handy numerous times. Her friend, Art Thiazi, had taught her sufficient that she knew how to use katars effectively, coupled with shinobi-iri methods of invisibility; to hide her from her enemy.

Still, her father had always told her to learn how to use her hands, and then her hands could learn to use weapons. Perhaps this was running, before she could walk. There was so much left to learn, about everything.

He came back, grinning. She smiled appreciately and applauded.
"Amazing, I wish I could do something like that." She blinked, looking down at the weapon in her hands. Wordlessly, she held it out to him.

"This is all I have, she's Nehima. You think maybe I could get like that?"
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Lord Massacre
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(It should be noted that Jake actually knew that Isabella had slipped out for a moment. He had decent senses. Alright, he had magnificent senses. He could feel the slight draft caused by her egress and return. He could sense her energy. He could- Hang on a minute... Jake was suddenly focused on that sword she was bringing in. He'd frozen a couple of things by making the air super-cold without even realizing it, but didn't care.)

"Amazing, I wish I could do something like that. This is all I have, she's Nehima. You think maybe I could get like that?"

(So, this was Nehima... Jake looked over the sword for a minute, feeling the kinds of energy that it represented. It had a familiar tone to it, of energy in which he had had some experience with in the past. He put his sword down, and the blade just stood there on its tip as he more-carefully examined the blade to make sure. There was a different feel to it...)

Jake: This sword is...necromancy? Huh. I didn't know there were any swords like this.

(He gave Isabella a look that seemed to say, "Okay, you've got my attention now.")

Jake: I can help you fight better, learn to wield swords better, and stuff like that. But ummm...whatever powers this sword actually has are a mystery to me. I mean, I have a book on necromancy, but it's way different from this. In any case, I can definitely help with actually wielding it. But first...

(He back-handed the handle of his own sword, flipping it into his hand and placing it on his back again, as before.)

Jake: I need to know how well you fight.

(Ah, an invitation to a quick spar. Jake stood with no stance, but was ready nonetheless. He had to know, to find out what sort of level of experience Isabella was at.)
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Isabella Williams
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"F-fight?" She blinked, Nehima suddenly awkward in her grip. "Err, with... this?"

No nono. She could fight without Nehima. No problem, she could just about hold her own. Sort've. All that practice with Mordred had come in handy. But... Even then, she wouldn't wield Nehima.

It was something more than just her inexperience, it was this twisting feeling in her stomach, something heavy and lead that reminded her of who the sword belonged to. Made her wonder if she was 'worthy' of it. Would her grandmother be angry? Was she studying hard enough to make them happy, to ease their fears that she would spend all her time pursuing butterflies and chasing rabbits and flights of fancy?

She turned it over in her hands, smoothed fingers over the metal. Charter marks rose to the surface, swimming beneath her fingers. She could have drawn them out, cast them; the simple ones. She understood some, watched as they formed themselves into letters, as they proclaimed; "I am Nehima, the blade Forget Me Not, forged by the Two of the Nine." Isabella gave it a reassuring pat. A gesture which seemed to say that yes, we all know how special you are, no need to show off in company.

He seemed nice enough. He probably didn't have a reason to want to slice her open. But then, he had demonstrated much restraint in his display of power and proficiency; would he go easy on her? A teacher though, that would be useful. Nehima would like that, if she could learn to wield her properly.

Isabella translated a few of her thoughts into words, aware that she'd been standing, staring at her sword in silence for several minutes.

"Only a Necromancer could use the magic in Nehima, anyway. She works with the bells," she held up one arm, jangling it to make the bells that lined her gloves ring a little, to emphasise the point, "I already know how to do that. Mostly the marks are just there so she can come into Death with me, and can hurt Dead things, but... Um, well, there's other stuffs too. Look!"

The conversational tone ended on a high note, and she swung Nehima around and forced the tip into the ground; dragging it this and that way until she'd etched a crude mark into the floor. It was the Northmark, the only one she'd managed to get the hang of so far from the Diamond of Protection she'd been studying.

The Diamond consisted of four straight lines, which all met to form a diamond shape around the individual. At each joint, there was a mark; the Northmark, Eastmark, Southmark and Westmark, respectively. When all four marks were lit, the Diamond would become impenetrable from the outside, and would remain that way, providing the marks stayed lit, and the caster had the energy to keep it going. It wasn't very strong, though. Any strong magical counter could usually shake them a bit, or blow them out entirely.

Still, it was a step up for her.

With the gleaming tip of Nehima against a groove in the floor, Isabella sent her mind spinning back into the Charter, dancing along the reels of Charter Marks that floated there; spinning and selecting, finding the marks she needed. The mark for Protection, for the elements, for safety, and the Master, the mark that would draw them all together.
She found them all and sent them like little tingles of electricity down her fingers, forcing the marks out, fingers tracing them out one by one against the sword's hilt. And then the Mastermark, drawing them all together...

Fire leapt up around the blade as the mark etched onto the floor lit; blue flames that licked harmlessly up at the metal, the mark like some kind of beacon, aflame with Charter magic, marks that floated in each fiery tongue and then disappeared.

Isabella turned her head to the boy and smiled, quite obviously pleased with her efforts. She offered no explanation, only:

"See?"
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Lord Massacre
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(Hmmm... She sounded nervous about initiating battle with him, and that's never a good sign. Having a sword usually meant that you either wanted to or needed to do something with it, if even to show it off or spar or something. Jake wasn't sure what held Isabella back, at least not yet, but this was something a person looking to learn would have to get over. The catgirl seemed to be pondering Nehima as the sword began to flash some kind of symbols. It made Jake wonder idly if the sword were alive, like Ixyzion.)

Jake: Well, what do you think, Ix? Is the sword possessed?

Hard to say. With any form of necromancy, there is the ever-present use of soul-magery and other dark arts to create that form of sorcery. It may be alive, undead, or simply very-well attuned to the spirit world for all I know.

Jake: Heh. Can't you talk to it?

That all depends. Can you hold a decent conversation in French after maybe a class or two on the subject?

Jake: Hardly.

It's the same premise, I think.

(Then, Isabella spoke up.)

"Only a Necromancer could use the magic in Nehima, anyway. She works with the bells. I already know how to do that. Mostly the marks are just there so she can come into Death with me, and can hurt Dead things, but... Um, well, there's other stuffs too. Look!"

(This was not a form of necromancy that he was familiar with. The type Jake was more unpleasantly aware of was the kind that involved summoning demons, raising corpses, evil spells and curses, and so on like that there. There was alot of dark sorcery out there, and a good chunk of it could be wielded by a capable necromancer. However, in contrast to that notion, whatever it was that Isabella was doing, it was a much more benign kind of necromancy, perhaps an ideal shape of the arts that didn't try to doom humankind. For that much and for seeming to know a few skills with the sword, Jake had to give her credit. The blade and the bells she had were apparently source-magic, devices that had to be operated with proper training...or else KABOOM.)

"See?"

Jake: Yes, I do see. It's definitely a kind of necromancy I've never seen, a very different approach. I don't think I could figure it out myself, and I still have a book on that stuff. However, I've gotta say, you have a sword for a reason. If it's the source of your powers, or part of them as the case may be, you've gotta learn to wield it properly. Once you've grown into it, you could easily work most complex spells in the heat of battle, which is the hardest time to ever concentrate.
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