As Sir Nigel and Althorpe watched, Josephine's hair and skin began to slowly grow even paler still and to gradually bleach a soft almost bone white to match the pearlescent eyes. Within moments the woman resembled a living statue of white marble or alabaster. The air about her became even more chill, frost and ice particles flowed about her and wove themselves into crazy vortices and patterns with the slightest of movements.
Those curious eyes regarded the dying woman in her grasp for a long moment, a white eyebrow traced upwards in almost sardonic inquiry and not a little surprise. Her deadly grip lessened the merest of a fraction, finally allowing a by now ashen faced Carmichael to draw something like a full breath. Which she did involuntarily and convulsively. Abruptly the pressure on Carmichael's throat relaxed altogether as did the nerve stopping grip on her wrist. Millicent slide bonelessly to the floor, Josephine gave an almost imperceptible but definite nod to Sir Nigel and Althorpe and then took three rapid paces backwards and away from them. They needed no further urging, the two men quickly gathered up the unconscious Millicent Carmichael and transferred her to a nearby reclining arm chair. While Althorpe attended to her, Sir Nigel turned back to the other occupant of the room and incidentally Josephine Rumbleton's body.
The being spoke for the first time, it's tone and expression struck Sir Nigel as mildly rueful.
"My apologies, Master Redfern, the Gestir if not kept on a tight rein either by my will or the Lady's is inclined to get out of hand."
"Gestir?" Sir Nigel and Althorpe echoed. Gestir was an ancient Scandinavian term meaning guest warrior. The halls of the various kings and jarls of Scandinavia were often visited by impoverished and lordless warriors who were maintained by such lords as a sign of their hospitality and wealth. In return, these warriors would accompany their host to war to show their respect for the hospitality shown them. The reference might have been an offhanded or illustrative remark about the other possessing spirit that was obviously bound to Josephine Rumbleton's body or it could have been quite literal, Sir Nigel and Althorpe had no way of knowing.
"A loyal and powerful undead guardian, as you will have perhaps observed, who keeps watch on this lovely lady in my all too frequent absences." Josephine responded with a hint of a wintery, almost languidly amused smile on seeing their vaguely puzzled expressions.
"Whom, am I addressing?" Sir Nigel asked quietly and carefully.
"We have never met, much less been formally introduced, Master Redfern." A white hand flitted lightly towards Josephine's face for a moment to emphasize the point. "This one however has followed your career with much interest for a long time."
Sir Nigel's white eyebrows went up at that last remark in mild surprise. The shining pearlescent eyes regarded him, the eyes seemed to almost sparkle and glow at him with something like detached amusement then slowly Josephine quietly and politely bowed at the waist in the manner of a gentleman.
"Magister Karl Magnus Schreck, at your service."
Oh Hell. Sir Nigel's thoughts slide to a complete and altogether abrupt stop.
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