Birth

Tsajasuna recited the final lines of the unholy spell, Ta'agra scored upon virgin flesh. The seal on the back of the empty doll pulsed in the black sludge, mimiking a slow heartbeat. This was it. The thing would either wake, or nothing would happen at all. The greedy Namira had departed, deeply embarrassed by her naivety - for it was her dark desire that had trapped her temporarily upon Nirn. The old witchcat would be sure to bask in her smugness later.

"Var ike jer ko! Feta ike jer ko!"

The body on the altar moved, magic making the air shimmer and twitch around the witch and it. The white skin, sewn and wrapped together through nights and nights of work, began to writhe as something moved around within. Its movements were undulating, like maggots in a wound. Tsajasuna's eyes widened as she looked upon it - there was nothing more she could do, but quietly chant the incantation over and over to help any lingering black magic. She lowered her arms, moving slowly towards the altar.

Its fingers twitched, as the tips turned hard and black - claws. Hairs sprouted from its head, moving like centipedes as the strands fell along the doll's back. The seal was struggling, pulsing faster as it struggled to contain Namira's bile inside - it pulled and sucked at the doll's back, causing the skin to become pockmarked and blackened. Thick, heavy dark veins curled and flexed underneath the white skin as Tsajasuna watched with glee, pushing against the ivory flesh. The thing was being filled with something akin to life - was the experiment a success?

Tsajasuna stretched out a hand to touch the doll's skin - it was smooth, and cold to the touch. It didn't seem to notice the witch touching it as it began to slowly move with some kind of purpose. Its writhing died down - Tsajasuna turned it around to face her.

The hair had stopped growing from its crown, a ghostly halo around a frozen face. The doll's eyes were shut, its eyelids dyed a deep black and that same Namiran sludge trickled from a semi-open mouth. Tsajasuna noticed the doll had grown fangs, something she had accounted for - the doll would probably take on some traits of whatever Prince she had summoned. The thing was silent.

Tsajasuna stroked back its greasy hair, noting the flawless skin, embossed veins aside. Looking over its form as a whole, she saw it had taken on a warped figure - male and female, mixed into one. A strange result she had not expected, as she raised an eyebrow questioningly - perhaps this was another trait of the genderless Princes?

Its eyes shot open.

Expecting violence, Tsajasuna's vampiric reactions allowed her to immediately cast Calm - she focused it in her left hand, moving it slowly from side to side in front of the doll's eyes. A thousand pale orbs jittered and swarmed in place of its eyes, surrounded by a sea of obsidian slime, like fireflies gathering in the night - black rivulets of it poured out of the doll's sockets. They began to harden as it's eyeballs formed, black orbs sealing into place as the pale dots merged into one great pupil. Like the seal on it's back, they pulsed with dark magic, sucking in light from around the altar. The pupils, still forming, darted around in their black prisons, seeing for the first time. Small beads of black fell from the doll's ears, as it heard. From it's nose as it smelt, from it's mouth as it tasted the air. Tsajasuna's fangs were frozen in an insane grin, as her creation was born into the world - she had succeeded!

Still casting her spell, she spoke to the doll.

"Jer vara watana di jajo fa."

The doll twitched, its whole body wincing as it heard another speak for the first time. It began to blink, rubbing it's head along the stony base of the evil altar upon which is had been birthed. Its mouth opened and closed in wordless shock, virgin eyes following the light of the spell in the witches hand. It wasn't breathing, but Tsajasuna had expected as much - yes, this effigy, this golem, was not alive. Not in the real sense of the word. It was instilled with unlife, completely unique in a world of mortals! Her work of art.

"Jer vara watana di Tsajasuna. Jajo fa raska jer. Ahziss va jaadi fado."

The witch heard clicking and chittering, as the doll tried to speak. The noises reminded Tsajasuna of the huge insect-like creatures she had encountered in Black Marsh - invertebrates that preyed on the soft flesh of mortals, that would drag them into the sludge of the vast swamps there to devour them alive. Tsajasuna remembered that Namira was the patron god of such beasts. The doll was looking at the old witch, expression impossible to define - vocal chords probably still forming, the witch thought. Tsajasuna saw something in its eyes however, something that made her smile even more. Her hands cupped the face of her unholy child.

She saw fear.