The Dread Necromancer Afanasy (dread_afanasy) wrote in oddverse,
The Dread Necromancer Afanasy
dread_afanasy
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A Profitable Misunderstanding For Athenry

Afanasy's long life was partially sustained by a spell that simply would not let him die. He always had time to fix any major wounds, even if he had to wait a few days, weeks, or months until he found a safe place to do so and his hands stopped shaking. It was rather a pain in the arse, actually, but he had done it a few times over the years. Once a werewolf had taken off his leg and he had immediately killed the blasted thing and put the leg back on, grumbling ill-naturedly about the extra work the cur had caused him. Another time he had a mild stroke and it took him a very long time to heal it, since he could not remember three of the words to the spell, but eventually he figured it out and cleansed himself of the impairment.

When he slipped into the most secret part of the ship, however, where he had been hopefully hoarding his share of their treasures so that he might have enough to buy himself a quiet retirement, he saw something that caused a severe heart attack. There was a dragon sleeping on his gold, HIS GOLD, and it was three times his height in length. Even his maggot crawled round to the back of his neck, trembling.

"Hopping Beelzebub," he swore hoarsely.

He had spent a month trying to figure out how to make his own space in the hold that even Blink would not notice. Finally, he had a plan. He sealed off one of the store-rooms so that it was not openable from the outside. Then he cast a spell over it, directing the attention of onlookers so that it would seem like the wall. The only entrance was a new and secret one, mechanical in case the spells should fail. He had no idea how a dragon could have found it.

It must have been that damnable captain. He must have found it, and put a dragon there.

Afanasy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Possibly the creature would be willing to deal, perhaps to share if they could work something out. He had already given it up as his own--he was fierce sometimes still, but it was nothing to count on.

What he had been counting on was all that gold. Damn.
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