Shake, Rattle, Roll

The hustle and bustle of the marketplace was at its strongest when the bright blessed sun was scorching directly overhead. It was quite the marvel today, anyone who was new to Port Albion would be quickly introduced with just how many people this island had to offer and what better day to snag some good deals. It was the back to school season and considering that Foresta was one of the main attractions of the island it was a no brainer that catering toward the students was going to rake in the big bucks for the vendor and store owners. There was plenty to pay attention to, the vendor owners were shouting how fantastic their prices were compared to the store owners and there was more than enough chattering amongst the potential customers within the crowds.

A cloaked figure though chose against this wild rat race to find the best prices around, one that sat on the lip of one of the few water fountains in the plaza that usually acted as a landmark for both citizens and tourists alike. Strange that almost every fountain structure she had encounter was some sort of baby holding a bucket which was where the water spewed out of. What it meant to be symbolic of something or was it just supposed to be cute? Didn’t matter all that much, it was just a place to sit for her.

The large lavender cloak didn’t show off too much of Lotte’s features, which was probably why no one had a problem with sitting on the same stone ledge as her. There was a large sketch pad on her lap, the back of it being held up by her right hand’s thinly fingers. Any by passers would notice how her hood would twitch upward and then back down. Some eagle eye observers might notice a strange gleam coming off of the area where her eyes should be though it is more of a gold-ish gleam than one would associate with the natural liquid of the human eye.

The black and decently hairy left hand of the figure ran across the page of her sketch book with a speed one would associate to that of a well-oiled machine, but a machine she was not. With every new person that wander by her she began to frantically sketch, but eventually she scratched up the page and turned to a new one. “Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve seen an interesting face. Give me a scar or something to break up the norm” she muttered to herself as she scanned the next person that passed by.

Normally, when a crowd of shoppers rush out of a shop screaming in terror, then that usually means:

A. A crime is being committed.
B. The owner of the shop began yelling insanely at his kangaroo statue again.
C. Lockwood is scaring everyone away again.

Pedestrians nearby watched the shop once the entrance was cleared. After a few moments, everyone resumed their regular activities once Lockwood walked out, laughing maniacally. “Come back! It’s just a flesh wound! Eh ha ha ha ha ha!” Lockwood was in his usual attire; suit, hat, creepy staff, and fancy pants. What’s different however is where his left arm should be was a gaping space of flesh. Lockwood was holding on to his arm with his right arm, with his left arm still gripping on to his staff. After calming down a bit with a huge grin on his face, he held his left arm toward where it should be, on his left shoulder. Lockwood felt the tissue reconnecting piece by piece, the sleeve also seemed to be stitching itself back on. Soon, his arm was attached enough to be no longer supported. He switched his staff to his right hand. Merrily, he started to walk.

“Well that was swell, now where was I… oh yes.” Lockwood patted his torso until he felt an envelope inside his suit. Ensured that it was still there, he walked over to a nearby bench that was firmly grounded on the side of the street. He placed his staff next to the tree, leaning on the skulls at the top. He relaxed on the bench, legs positioned into a cross. He glanced at the clock, nearing the pre-determined time. Lockwood was expecting someone. On who would be coming, that he didn’t know. As much as he enjoyed surprises, this was one of the few occasions that he wasn’t frilled at all, more like tensed up. Why, he was planning to visit the lovely golem again after not meeting for some time until ‘this’ popped up last night. As much as he enjoyed unlife, there are some unfortunate dead men that should just stick to being dead.

It was then Lockwood realized that he’s been getting somewhat stressed on the whole ordeal and also realized that shouldn’t be, oh no, definitely not. No matter who is coming, he must remain bright, positive! On the other hand, if someone was watching Lockwood right now, he/she would see him twitching about on the bench, unaware of his surroundings.

Lotte continued her scribbling with each passing person, finding the exact same issue with them all. Too basic, nothing wild and inspiring. As she flipped the next page with a slight amount of disappointment, a new uproar arose. No it wasn’t another vender advertising a desperately low price, it was something that had a bit more terror tied to it. It wasn’t her that was the source so that was a relief, also surprising. She hadn’t heard shrieks this bad since she reunited with her old entomophobic professor. Her thousands of eyes perked upward to analyze the commotion. It wasn’t until after the horde of terrorized being left that she was able to see the one causing it.

A man, a man without an arm. Well, rather that he was holding his other arm while the left side of his body remained unarmed. “Like him” she whispered as she frantically began to sketch the zombie man in order to get as much detail as possible before he might get away. Lotte definitely wouldn’t have been able to identify him as a co-worker, she was still fairly new to the school and knew nothing about anybody save for a select few. Should she have reacted differently to this clearly decaying person, perhaps, but she herself was not a normal human being either. Besides she was more curious than off put.

What settled it was when he displayed that he was able to reattach his limbs without any sort of issue. Lotte had to know more at that point and couldn’t restrain her mind’s curiosity. She finished off her rough draft of the man and shoved her sketch book into her cloak allowing her second set of arms to grab hold of it. She was still well disguised in the crowd, she had to snake her way through, but barely anyone paid attention to her since they were too busy attempting to flee from the lich.

Lotte paused as her shadow over casted her fellow abomination of society. Her hood was still well placed over her face so her odd complexion was not visible just yet. “How you do that?” she question with a quirk of her head and pointing toward his reconnected arm. “You gifted? What is it you do? Healing factor? Undead? Witch doctor? You good with potions?” she bombarded leaving no room for him to answer any question individually.

Lockwood was thinking about raising an undead servant to get him a bag of ice when a shadow suddenly loomed over him. He quickly snapped his attention to the physical world, regrettably leaving the bag of ice behind. A hooded figure stood before him, showing off a nice shade of violet if he didn’t say so for himself. A barrage of questions was sent right at him, one coming right after another; and Lockwood thought he was sometimes curious. As she asked questions, which Lockwood determined the hidden person to be female from the sound of her voice though a bit off at certain obscure points, he snapped his fingers in the brief seconds he tried to comprehend all the questions she keeps spurring out. He might as well summon a skeletal minion.

First, Lockwood answered her most obvious question, “Well my lady, I’m simply reattaching my arm back to my body with a passive necromantic art.” He flexed his arm out to test out how well the muscles have grown back. From the constant stretching with detachment, Drummond concluded that indeed his arm is now partly attached. He took a deep breath as he breathlessly spoke, “For your other questions, yes I am considered gifted. I’m a lich, with necromantic powers and cursed horrors that mortals can’t conceive. Yes, it is in some way a healing factor. No, that happens to be my great aunt, Merrow. And yes I have considerate experience of tonics, thought mostly of poisons.” He took a moment for the air to come back to him.

“And in case of further questions, yes I can raise the dead. Yes, I’m already dead. Yes, I teach on this island. Yes, I can make custard and play the accordion, and the drums, and the didgeridoo.” Lockwood rolled his head around in small celebration. He then quickly asked, “But what should you be asking is, ‘why am I bothering this handsome, charming, young man when I could be enjoying a wondrous day and hope that the world doesn’t end while I’m sleeping?’ Never thought about that, hmm?” He swiftly answered for her, “Of course not, I’m not important, well I don’t think so, is that a good question, or am I just annoyed? I’ll give you a hint, I’m utterly vexed.”

With a light tap with his staff on the side, he leaned forward to the hooded woman with his trademark grin in full force. “However, I am more interested in you, as I can’t help but notice that you seem to smell like a bucket of butyric acid in a sailor’s shack… no wait, more like freshly scraped bone marrow on a Sunday evening. Hm.”

The man was not quite as speedy of a speaker as Lotte was, though it was very rare that she ever met someone who was. He did lay down more information than she would have guessed him to in the amount of time he was given, so that was somewhat impressive. Her black tinted hand reached for her non-existent chin as she absorbed the knowledge the man had dumped onto her. It was a force of habit that she might not get over. She sat on the free space of the bench next to the non-living man without his consent on the matter and lowered her head to ponder on his words.

“Ah, necromancy, tried, failed. Too archaic” she answered once her head lifted up once more. Her face was still shrouded in shadow, but the reflection on her compound eyes might be visible to Lockwood. “I’m teacher as well. Arrived couple of days ago. Not much to do here” She was actually quite surprised by the prospect of this zombie being a teacher, she didn’t express anything to hint at that, but she briefly mused over that fact. Did the Headmistress just enjoy having horrific monstrous beings on her staff? Perhaps it was a tactic to either make the students work harder and attempt to avoid disappoint their teacher, or perhaps it was to make the “normal” staff members feel better about themselves.

The insectoid creature cackled at the man’s question regarding what she should be asking. “Thought that plenty, university was long time ago though. What is it that’s grinding your mind?” she questioned and answered rather clumsily. He seemed to be in a good mood only a couple of minutes ago, though that was after performing something that lifted his spirits. Perhaps that meant that he was so ill willed that he had to make himself feel better. His vexation would be a good hint to that theory, but what a non-living being would have to worry about was beyond her. Maybe his past wives came back to life as well?

The man then shifted the focus of the conversation onto Lotte, more specifically how she smelled. She rubbed the fabric of her cloak against the hairs on her arms to determine if it was the clothing that she was wearing that stunk. Didn’t seem to be. “Not sure. Don’t normally eat bone marrow. Prefer fresh fruit and sugar cubes. It might be you. Though you mostly smell like corpse, might be another reason you caught my interest. Interesting.”

“Well, then do not mind it,” dismissed Lockwood. Her quick words almost too fast to comprehend, though, not impossible to understand. Lockwood leaned back, his mind quickly working out he words. Taking her words apart, he reached into his suit and pulled out a small pocketbook. He flipped it open, searching through each page. “So you came to this academy just recently, hmm?” He stopped at a page that was recently added. “Liselotte Alexis Schmidt, age forty-two, a physics teacher and sometimes a substitute, correct?” Lockwood guessed.

Lockwood kept a cunning smile at the woman, though his drooping hat barely showed his eyes. Even when his tension was already high enough as it is in recent days, he still would try to keep records of the staff of the academy up to date, just in case. His note taking was something he took pride in, next to scaring everyone. Lockwood was still for a few seconds when a cackling sound was running down the street. People on the street stepped back away from a yellow, running skeleton in a 19th century suit with an ice bag in its hand. A chilling laugh sounded out from its bouncing jaw. It skidded to a stop in front of Lockwood, handing out the ice bag.

“Ah, thank you. You may go now.” Lockwood thanked. The skeleton saluted and ran back the way it came, still laughing like a hyena. Lockwood removed his hat and placed the bag on top of his head, then returned the hat to its resting place. “You know, necromancy is well worth the reward once you practice for a few years. Then again, with your urgent attention span, it’s unlikely that you’ll ever even resurrect an ant. Also I apologize if I seem ruffled, events in the last few months has gone some residents here a little bouncy.” Which could be just the terror I’m spreading, Lockwood thought. The ice was already calming the lich's mind. Silly sun.

The elderly woman cackled at her co-worker’s attempt at guessing who she was. He got it spot on, but anyone who looked at her file would know those things fairly easily although she wasn’t aware that middle names were usually recorded. No, the most interesting part about this was that the man had a tiny notebook designed specifically for this instance. It reminded her of herself at a younger age when she was much more of a control freak and overly anal about everything.

“Ah, did your research. Yes, correct. Though prefer Lotte, Liselotte too many syllables. Interesting, you know how I look then” she answered as her bug eyes honed in on him, the light revealing a bit more of her face. She had an appearance that was more akin to something out of a B-movie from the fifties. A woman with the face of an insect, more specifically the common house fly. “Not offended if you do, just curious. Being one living among skeletons it’s probably not big issue” she elaborated as the skeletal being came running in like an errand boy. Being a person that primarily practiced in science and used to scoff at the prospect of black magic, it was an interesting spectacle to witness. She was not afraid or intimidated by the walking corpse, she was more so intrigued. Her mind wandered off into several different tangents, wondering if the thing required nourishment in order to continue to thrive while undead, or if it had personal goals or some sort of personality. Unfortunately such thoughts slipped back into the recesses of her mind, most likely being forgotten forever as she was one to lose track of what she was about to speak about or wanted to.

“No doubts that it is an interesting field, just no frame of reference for it. Could just as easily create a nano-machine to act like ant and say it’s ant. Besides, already partaken in unethical studies, have enough enemies against my work” she stated as swiftly as always. Another note of interest though, Lockwood stated the residents were already on edge about something. She read about that before. “Yes, kidnappings, murders, interesting stories coming from this island. Wanted to interview students, was refused on ethical grounds. Ethics always blocking the way for work.” Lotte continued ending with a sigh of disappointment.