Information
Maitland
Legacy Name: Maitland
The
Graveyard EscaladeOwner: Lusium
Age: 12 years, 9 months, 6 days
Born: June 13th, 2013
Adopted: 11 years, 3 weeks, 4 days ago
Adopted: February 22nd, 2015
Statistics
- Level: 44
- Strength: 31
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 0/10
- Intelligence: 115
- Books Read: 114
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Rehabilitator
Her parents had always called her Mattie. She was only ever "Maitland" when they were angry with her, which they rarely were. She was an only child, their darling, their princess.
They were dead by the time she found out. She used to visit their graves every day but now she was too terrified to even go near the cemetery. It would be nice to know, get some answers, but it was too risky. She'd been finding half-rotted mice and squirrels running around her yard and the surrounding area for about a week. At first she was pretty sure some sort of rodent zombie apocalypse was happening -anything was possible these days. The post-Shift world was a strange and unpredictable place. She certainly hadn't suspected she was a necromancer.
It was a few days after the mice started to appear that she put everything together. There was an old book about necromancy that she'd found in the bottom of one of her mother's trunks. Once she found it she spent hours ripping apart the house. The only other useful thing she'd found was a few of her father's old journals. He hadn't been a necromancer, but her mother was. Unfortunately he hadn't expanded on it too much, just that they had agreed not to tell her unless it became absolutely necessary. Her mother had stopped practicing before she was born.
The dead animals were really freaking her out. The last thing she wanted was to raise up everything that had died recently everywhere she went. Flipping through the book she found a temporary solution to keep her power checked until she could learn to control it. The vial of salt around her neck helped contain her magic and keep her grounded. She never took it off.
Of course, with the salt she could easily go back to visiting her parents graves. She didn't though. Even with the salt, the energy of the cemetery was overwhelming. Hitting necromancer puberty had really wreaked havoc on her "sixth sense" and even with the salt she felt like the dead were reaching through the ground for her. The image of rotted hands bursting through the earth, the entire cemetery rising up from death, haunted her.
She'd like to say it was her strength and courage that had led her to the decision to venture out and find someone who could help. But it had been fear. She had grown up thinking of herself as human, and knowing that as a human she had little to no power in most of the world, not among the shifters and the fae, the vampires and the witches. Her community was a safe haven, hidden away and free of anyone supernatural. Until now of course. She feared what her town might do to her if they found out. A benign witch who could change the colour of her hair and talk to the trees was one thing -a girl who could bring the dead back to life was a whole other story.
She stuffed a backpack with a spare set of clothes, food and water, a bar of soap, some extra salt, and the book that had belonged to her mother. She hung a knife from her belt, put on her best sneakers, and hopped on her bike, looking away from the cemetery as she passed, leaving her home behind.
They were dead by the time she found out. She used to visit their graves every day but now she was too terrified to even go near the cemetery. It would be nice to know, get some answers, but it was too risky. She'd been finding half-rotted mice and squirrels running around her yard and the surrounding area for about a week. At first she was pretty sure some sort of rodent zombie apocalypse was happening -anything was possible these days. The post-Shift world was a strange and unpredictable place. She certainly hadn't suspected she was a necromancer.
It was a few days after the mice started to appear that she put everything together. There was an old book about necromancy that she'd found in the bottom of one of her mother's trunks. Once she found it she spent hours ripping apart the house. The only other useful thing she'd found was a few of her father's old journals. He hadn't been a necromancer, but her mother was. Unfortunately he hadn't expanded on it too much, just that they had agreed not to tell her unless it became absolutely necessary. Her mother had stopped practicing before she was born.
The dead animals were really freaking her out. The last thing she wanted was to raise up everything that had died recently everywhere she went. Flipping through the book she found a temporary solution to keep her power checked until she could learn to control it. The vial of salt around her neck helped contain her magic and keep her grounded. She never took it off.
Of course, with the salt she could easily go back to visiting her parents graves. She didn't though. Even with the salt, the energy of the cemetery was overwhelming. Hitting necromancer puberty had really wreaked havoc on her "sixth sense" and even with the salt she felt like the dead were reaching through the ground for her. The image of rotted hands bursting through the earth, the entire cemetery rising up from death, haunted her.
She'd like to say it was her strength and courage that had led her to the decision to venture out and find someone who could help. But it had been fear. She had grown up thinking of herself as human, and knowing that as a human she had little to no power in most of the world, not among the shifters and the fae, the vampires and the witches. Her community was a safe haven, hidden away and free of anyone supernatural. Until now of course. She feared what her town might do to her if they found out. A benign witch who could change the colour of her hair and talk to the trees was one thing -a girl who could bring the dead back to life was a whole other story.
She stuffed a backpack with a spare set of clothes, food and water, a bar of soap, some extra salt, and the book that had belonged to her mother. She hung a knife from her belt, put on her best sneakers, and hopped on her bike, looking away from the cemetery as she passed, leaving her home behind.
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