(LOG) Evangilene's corpse pays a visit to the Queen.

Danele Valenti was curled on the settee in the library, her legs drawn up beside her, and a laprobe of rich ermine drapped over her. Since becoming pregnant, she had developed a chill that she could not seem to shake. Anyway, the palace was quiet this eve, everyone seeming to ensconced in their own, personal areas. It allowed the Queen a perfect oppurtunity to read, and that was what she did.

Evangilene's Corpse's presence was known by the smell before the sight. Thick, sweet, awful old death that threatened to strangle the air. It walked in rigid motions, jerking its torso as putrifying muscles strained to account for the atrophy. Its arms seemed to whip with every step, jutting into odd shapes and possessed twists of the fingers. Trylstrian, behind the corpse's eyes from afar, was sick with tension. Manufacturing the specific directions of the corpse was difficult enough, but getting it inside the castle had been a nightmare. He nearly screamed in frustration as the corpse tripped upon the top step and fell with a sicking, sucking, wet thud upon the floor. It kept its head down, hands grasping at the floor before it began to slowly pick itself up.

Danele Valenti was so deeply engrossed in the pages she read, that for several moments, she noted nothing amiss. Then, the odor reached her nostrils. There was no mistaking it. It was the scent of death; rotted, cloying, and utterly nauseating. Frowning, she looked up from her words, and eyes touched on the rotting corpse. It took a second to realize what she was seeing. Gods in heaven, that was Evangeline. Gasping, the Queen tossed the book to the side, shock written clearly over her features.

Evangilene's Corpse shivered in its joints and kept its head lowered. The once vibrant blonde hair had gone sickly, hanging in mats and strings that was thick with broken sticks, leaves, and water from melted snow that had coalesced into a puddle. Trylstrian had a hell of a time getting it out of that puddle. It was difficult to see through the corpse's glassy eyes, but as the head lifted, he knew that he'd been successful. The jaw had disloacted, making its mouth hang at an awkward angle. It struggled to rise to its feet, nearly tripping over the rags that hung bit did not conceal over the broken, molding, off-grey body. Trylstrian made it speak: "Mu-fah," it said, "Mu-fah." An accusatory, twisted finger rose up to point at her, shaking violently.

Danele Valenti blinked, then blinked again. Ghosts in the palace were one thing. They had been seen, spoken to, even related to. However this.... monstrosity... it was truly horrifying. Coming to her senses, the Queen jerked up the laprobe and was off of the settee in record time. This could not be Evangeline. Evangeline was captured, in the tower, at her Father's order. Yet this abomination looked like her... well, as much as it could. "What sorcery is this?" she hissed, backing away. Of course, she was unaware of the influence of Tryl.

Evangilene's Corpse vomited. Unfortunately, in the case of zombies vomitus was not particularly restricted to bile. Old, putred purulence and chunks of intestinal lining flowed out of the gaping mouth and splattered against the floor in a sick, plopping sound. Trylstrian thought that a particularly nice touch. It kept walking towards the queen, brows quivering as they were brought together in an angry, wrathful expression. "You..." That word, at least, was not difficult. The tear ducts were triggered, seeping angry and murky substance from it that looked not unlike mud. "You let hing kill nge." 'M' sounds were difficult with the condition of the jaw. It was picking up speed now, raising the other hand and showing clear intent to grab the queen by the shoulders by the time it got to her... which might have taken a few days.

Danele Valenti backed up against one of the bookcases flanking the enormous fireplace. Fear, unlike any she had ever experienced was rolling through her. What in the bloody hell was going on here? Of course, her own stomach rolled at the sight of the putrid vomit. The odor was even worse. First thought was to scream, but terror choked her throat closed. "W-Who.... killed you...?" she croaked. This was all a bad dream, and she would awaken soon. She just knew it.

Evangilene's Corpse let old phlegm and mud seep out of its nostrils, just for a touch more dramatics. It stopped once Valenti posed the question. Trylstrian's brain screamed triumph. That was the question he had wanted to hear! The plot was under way. Suspicion, guilt, anger, they were all his weapons, and they were focused in this little corpse which now shattered in the hip bone and sagged its spinal column low so that it looked to hunch over. "Achah." 'Achah?' Damn this jaw! "Achah," it tried again. Curses! A quick mental calculation made up for this unfortunate drawback. Muddy tears suddenly burst from the corpse's eyes, and old stale lungs sucked in air before screaming pitifully: "Dahddy!" It was a long, wheezing cry that threatened to break the corpse in half.

Danele Valenti was clearly taken aback by the reply. Daddy? Wyld? For a single millisecond, bile rose in her throat. Wyld had ordered Eva killed? Then, common sense prevailed. She knew the King unlike anyone else did. None would suspect it from the formal manner each were known to project toward one another, but that did not change what was. Wyld did love his children, and despite anything Eva had done, he would not kill her. "No." The word came out in a firm, almost hard tone. "He did not do this to you." She felt it, in the deepest pit of her belly.

Evangilene's Corpse did not respond for awhile. Trylstrian had expected the natural resistance. Any woman who had dealt with this sort of tyrannical rule would have to put herself firmly on her husband's side. Fortunately, he had emotional leverage on his side. Dead Evangilene's eyes swept wide until they bulged. Literally. Anger suffused its expression and those tears turned vile as arms stretched out for her again. "'Lind! 'Lind!" It was easy to make a zombie seem more angry than any inanimate thing should be capable of. It was coming quickly at her, now, stiff joints searching her out and coming around the furniture. Dead Evangilene was wrathful. "You let hing take nge to the tower to 'e raet ang killed! You nehr lo'ed nge! You nehr lo'ed nge! You wanted nge dead too!" It was a wild, dead beast that came at her now, pulling chunks out of her own hair and letting it drop to the ground in tattered, completely with chunks of flesh to bare its skull.

Danele Valenti felt more shock roll through her at the accusations. She never loved Evangeline? That is the only damned thing she had ever tried to do. Evangeline had made her hate for Dan very clear at an early age. Not to mention, the Princess had told her she would never be accepted, no matter what she did. "I tried to love you. I tried to get close to you. You pushed me away." The closer the rotting corpse came, the further Danele inched toward the fireplace. Her leg bumped against something, causing it to rattle loudly. Quick glance down revealed the firepoker used to stir up embers. Desperate fingers grabbed for the silver handle, and curled around it tightly. Survival instinct kicked in, and before she knew it, the poker was being lifted, it's clawed end swinging right at the putrid skull.

Evangilene's Corpse only seemed to become angrier at these words. Trylstrian personally thought it amusing that the woman was arguing with a corpse, but resisted the urge to play off of that amusement. It approached her without hesitation as the queen abruptly snagged up the poker. Trylstrian didn't see the action, because the eyes were having an awfully hard time staying attached inside of their sockets. It was made worse when the strike into the skull made one of those eyeballs fall right out. It splattered on the ground and was squished between zombie toes. The body kept coming right for her, now seeming as though it wanted to push her into the fire. But Trylstrian's control had hiccoughed. The strike to the head temporarily turned it into one's typical, snarling, bestial zombie.

Danele Valenti was utterly dismayed when that thing kept coming at her. And Gods, that eyeball made the most horrible sound when it was popped underfoot. Adrenaline was roaring through Danele's veins now, and that poker was still firmly held in the one hand. After the initial blow, her second hand joined it's twin. In that moment, with the backlight from the fire, the Queen resembled some sort of avenging angel. Weilding the poker like a samurai warrior, she screamed in rage and swung it again with all of her might, right at the head again.

Evangilene's Corpse was a savage monster for precisely three seconds after the fact, and then Trylstrian had control of it. That had not been a pretty slip up, but he was able to fluidly turn it into something that appeared to be instinct. Now the corpse settled into something that seemed a bit mollified, and jerked itself back to avoid a second swing. It dissolved into tears, now, throwing itself back so that it fell on the floor. A different tact, now. Evangilene, from what she told him from inside of him, was something like a fireball. So too was this corpse. It wept and beat at the floor until its wrists broke, leaving smears of half-blood and various bits of organ and flesh in the wake. "Why...?"

Christoph Valvogt's nose curled and his eyes flashed with irritation as he stalked through the castle, the vile putrid smell that had suddenly risen up permeating the place such that he'd ordered windows open throughout and every available servant searching for the source of it. Torn between covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief and using his nose to root out the bloody stench, he stood in the main hall, trying to decipher the direction it was coming from when a woman's scream pierced his thoughts. That came from the library, and the steward flew at a dead run through the door, his own eyes nearly popping out of his head at the scene before him, the Queen with a poker upraised and something decaying writhing and sobbing on the floor. Christoph Valvogt's mouth hung open for a moment before he rushed to the Queen's side, stumbling down the stairs, unable to tear his eyes from that thing even as he bowed. "Your Majesty. Are you injured?" Fear clutched at his chest even as even as he offered her his arm, hoping to guide her away from whatever this was, his stomach roiling...and the room half destroyed.

Malcom Searlas entered the library with his nose stuck in a book, suffering as he had been lately from a rather nasty head cold. Seeing that there were people already in the library he'd pause, managing "Oh, pardon me maj" before he'd fully take in the scene. And, of course, the smells. So down went the book and out came the crucifix and the holy water. The priest would begin shouting at the smelly rotting thing that was in the library, holy water splashing at it from a crystal bottle "Be gone, creature! Depart back to the grave! DEPART!" If that failed the advancing father looked like he'd start clubbing the crying zombie with the crucifix held in other hand.

Danele Valenti blinked when the thing swerved from the blow. Undead creatures could do that? Then again, what did she really know about them? Nothing, of course! In typical Eva fashion, the wretched creature threw it's body to th floor and began to throw a royal tantrum. For a moment, Danele forget that is was not the real Eva. Then, the flying bits of blood and flesh brought her back to reality. Though Christoph, God bless his heart, came dashing in, she ignored him for the moment. That...thing was destroying the carpet, and it was going to take weeks to even rid the area of the smell. With the poker still in hand, the Queen marched over to the writhing mess and lifted one side of her skirt. "You bitch. You have tormented me for the last time." Oh, such a venomous tone in which the words were spat! Lifting one dainty foot that was clad in a rather lovely, black silk, heeled slipper, Danele brought it smashing down in hopes of crushing the thing's rotted skull.

Evangilene's Corpse flailed in anguish, half of its skull collapsing and still managing to begin the process of picking itself up off of the floor. The neck twisted as a patch of flesh was rather loath to come off of the skull fragments, nearly snapping the spinal column with the whiplash as its head came up. It looked blankly at the new persons. Trylstrian didn't recognize the young fellow, but the church man made him laugh. He resisted the urge to make the corpse taunt him as the holy water splashed it. What he did not expect, however, was for it to work. The connection suddenly snapped and Trylstrian was reeling in fourth dimensional pain as the zombie reacted rather negatively. It was now a typical, brainless beast and it was hungry for the priest. Religious artifacts could only work so much to keep a rather angry corpse from lunging itself at the man with shattered kneecaps.

Christoph Valvogt blinked when he heard another voice that was not the undead, staring as the priest and the queen converged on that moving corpse. Had the whole bloody world gone mad or had he? He couldn't say as the Queen made to stomp on the thing's head, her words and tone so astonishing that it took him a few moments to do anything more than stare. "Your Majesty!" He hissed, seeing the thing stir, his green eyes locked on it and his terror such that he actually grabbed the Queen's arm to jerk her back. "Let the priest deal with this thing. It is his realm." He tried to tug her away from it, steadily backing 'round the couch to try to take her away from the thing. The whole bloody room could be replaced, but his head couldn't if anything occurred to the Queen. Lifting his voice, he bellowed toward the doorway. "Guards! Send His Majesty's Royal Guards!" In a single glance, it suddenly set in just who the corpse was, and the world seemed to falter again.

Malcom Searlas continued flailing at the monster with that holy water until it ran dry, wincing at the sound and smell of squished rotten brains. That was just nasty. Crystal decanter would be placed back inside a robe as the crucifix was held straight out at arm's length in the zombie's general direction. Hand with the holy water would reemerge with a white square packet of paper. The thin man would begin chanting in Latin as he tore off a corner of the package before tossing it at the monster. Salt would begin pouring out of the little hole onto the floor and where ever it landed as he chanted the exorcism

Danele Valenti allowed herself to be jerked back. In fact, she stumbled against Christoph like a ragdoll, profound relief sweeping through her at his, and Malcom's appearance. The adrenaline rush began to subside, leaving her a trembling, nauseated mess. "Oh God...." she whispered. Then, the horror of it began to set in. "OhGod OhGod OhGod..." She dropped the poker as if it were a poisonous snake and backed herself further into Christoph.

Evangilene's Corpse could not survive the onslaught. It was not the holy water or the crucifix that killed it in the end. When lunging for the priest, it fell and smacked the crushed end of its skull against the salt. The putrifying grey-black matter and dripping blotches of boiling scum acted as a snail would. It hardened to a crust and instantly shut off all incantational responses in the spinal column. The brains were not important to a zombie, but the brain stem was vital. So when it solidified and shattered, so did the corpse. In its dying phase, however, it managed to whisper one final word. As Trylstrian was no longer under control, it came from the residue of the compound of fragmented lives required to make it functional. "Brother," it sighed. When it finally stopped moving, it was as though a rather grotesque statue had been set in place: arms stiff at odd angles, mouth gaping open, single eye rolled back into its own skull.

Christoph Valvogt never once let himself think of the impropriety as his arms wrapped around the Queen as she sunk, half-dragging, half-carrying her up the stairs. He had no hopes of sweeping her into his arms like some rescuing knight or the King. "You did well, My Queen." He assured, a low trail of words trickling from his lips as the guards joined them. "Seal the blasted room." He growled at them, feeling as though his chest would explode even as the corpse when through its last mechanations of life. "Let no one in or out other than the priest until King can address this." The good Father received a respectful nod from the steward as he let one of the guards scoop up the Queen as he could not. "To the infirmary, immediately." And with that he was off, keeping pace with the larger guard for her would not leave the Queen's side just yet.

Malcom Searlas kept his eyes on the creature for the time being, waving vaguely to the queen as she was dragged off "Salt the doors of the castle, and each threshold. Have one of the deacons start blessing each of the rooms with holy water and have one of the smiths start pounding out silver wire. We need enough to circle the castle itself and each door and window, so make it thin." Holding the cross out he'd begin edging closer to the corpse, pulling out that now-familiar notebook "Hmm...undead...lesser undead..."

Danele Valenti allowed herself to be led up the stairs. It was mechanically that her limbs were moving now. Yes! Must leave the room, and that horrid monstrosity. Must leave it far behind! She heard mention of the King and looked up at Christoph with a bewildered gaze. "My husband is coming?" That would clue Christoph to the depth of her shock right away. Rarely did she address Wyld so commonly in front of others. Off to wonderful infirmary they went!