Necromancer Anon - Not finished


                                            “By the forever cursed one...”, you sigh and take a belt out of the bony chalice, emptying it of the thick, crimson liquid it contains, “Another day comes to an end.”

                                            >Putting the grinning goblet down, you rest your tired head on a hand as you watch Celestia's glorious sun slowly set.

                                            >Another day in which you achieved nothing... You couldn't even motivate yourself to check on Sparky today.

                                            >A female ridge dragon you found dying near your lair a few days ago and then reanimated after its death throes finally subsided.

                                            >Technically she would need every bit of your attention, so you can properly bind her to you and prevent that she develops a free will as long as she still sleeps her dark slumber, but...

                                            >You just couldn't be bothered to.

                                            >It's summer, and summer always reminded you of her...

                                            >Celestia...

                                            “Why...”

                                            >The love of your life and probably the prettiest thing you ever have laid your eyes upon.

                                            “Why can't you see?”

                                            >You are Anonymous.

                                            “That we are meant to be together?”

                                            >Or that's what you call yourself nowadays. You have forgotten your real name decades ago.

                                            “I have given up everything for you...”

                                            >The first and probably only human to ever set foot on Equestria.

                                            “My life... My friends...”

                                            >Or at least you used to be one.

                                            “My god damned humanity!”, you scream and throw the chalice against a wall, relishing the sound of brittle bones meeting cold, hard stone.

                                            >Almost immediately, a worm-like creature, made out of the corpses of a dozen diamond dogs, crawls out of a crevice on that very same wall and begins to clean up the mess you made with its deformed limbs.

                                            >With a look of disgust in your face, you watch it do its deed, burying your face into your hands as it vanishes into the darkness of your fortress' walls again.

                                            >Human... That you used to be. But what in the seventy planes of tartarus are you now?!

                                            >You just wanted to impress her... Become something that didn't exist in Equestria for almost four hundred years back then... But...

                                            >It just made her detest you more.

                                            >”Anonymous! Are you out of your mind?!”, her voice echoes in your head, “Guards! Arrest him at once!”

                                            >You tried to explain why you did it, but no words managed to leave your sorry mouth this fateful day.

                                            >Her guards closed in on you as you stammered and stuttered, trying to get through to her.

                                            >But... In the end... You had to kill and reanimate six of her closest, personal guards with your newfound powers just so you could escape.

                                            >It wasn't pretty and it surely wasn't what you intended to do, but you had no other choice.

                                            >The only thing you ever wanted was her attention and perhaps her affection... Was that too much to ask for?

                                            >Groaning, you force your gaze on the setting sun again, assessing, much to your dismay, that it has nearly vanished behind the horizon already.

                                            >Not like it matters for you anyway... Sleep isn't a necessity for you any more.

                                            >Still you like to do your “work” while it's still bright outside. Perhaps out of an old habit... You honestly can't tell any more.

                                            >And technically you still have at least fifteen minutes of sunlight left.

                                            >With a deep sigh and a last longing look at the sun, you get up and grab your staff, tapping the floor twice with it.

                                            >It doesn't take long for that what you summoned with this motion to rush to you.

                                            >A misshaped amalgam of pony and gryphon bursts through the mouldy, oaken door, immediately bowing once it sees you.

                                            >”Yes, master? You called?”, it says with a raspy, ghastly voice, focusing its four eyes onto you.

                                            “That I did, Grimbearer.”, you reply monotonously and motion him to stand normally.

                                            >Or at least as normal as his six legs allow it to.

                                            >”What do you need, master?”

                                            “Just give me a status report. Did anything extraordinary happen today?”

                                            >”You mean here, in your glorious lair, master?”

                                            >You sigh and nod.

                                            “Yes.”

                                            >Grimbearer is always so damn cautious... Almost like it is afraid of saying something wrong.

                                            >It's not like you punish your creations for making mistakes... And even if you would, they couldn't feel pain anyway.

                                            >”No. Nothing that I know of, at least.”

                                            “Good. How is Sparky?”

                                            >”Sparky?”, Grimbearer asks and cocks its head.

                                            “The ridge dragon.”

                                            >”Oh! You mean her...”, it lets out a ghoulish tatter, “She still sleeps and doesn't show any signs of awakening from her dark sleep either.”

                                            “Huh? That's strange...”

                                            >”How so, master?”

                                            “I reanimated her three days ago. She should have awoken by now.”

                                            >”That might be true.”, Grimbearer says and cowers, “But she is a dragon after all. A creature that rivals in power even your very own most powerful creations. No offense, of course.”

                                            “None taken.”

                                            >”Thank you so very much, master!”

                                            “I just thought she would have woken up by now. But it seems I was wrong in that assumption.”

                                            >”You are never wrong, master! You just make slight miscalculations!”

                                            “Anything else noteworthy?”

                                            >”The ghouls, master.”

                                            “What about them?”

                                            >”They hunger for fresh flesh. And we have run out of it days ago.”

                                            >God... Wherever you might be. Why did you raise so many of them anyways?

                                            >Oh yeah. Because you wanted to suppress thoughts of her. And raising ghouls takes a lot of your mind power, and more importantly...

                                            >Time.

                                            >Yet another groan leaves your mouth and you rub the the bridge of your nose.

                                            “They don't even need to eat...”

                                            >”I know, master. But their unnatural hunger is tearing them apart! We lost one hundred of them just today.”

                                            “I see... Send a scout to Greenmere. To see if ponies still live there”

                                            >”A scout?”, the undead construct asks, “You mean a shadow?”

                                            “Yes, if we still have some of them.”

                                            >”I'm afraid not... I'm so incredibly sorry, master.”

                                            “Don't be...”, you say and sit down, manifesting another skull goblet filled with fermented blood in your hands, “Just tell me what we still have that's fast and doesn't attract much attention.”

                                            >You take a sip from the viscous liquid and barely manage to suppress grimacing your face as you feel it running down your throat.

                                            >It's an acquired taste, to say the least... One you never really acquired.

                                            >But the life essence of other beings is the only thing your corrupted body accepts as nourishment these days.

                                            >What has your life come to?

                                            >”Some of the pegasi from Las Pegasus are still left. They aren't too smart, but they should be able to do a scouting mission just fine, master.”

                                            >You would prefer to send shadows, creatures you actually devised to do scouting, than brainless, feathered zombies, but it looks like you have no choice.

                                            “Then send them.”

                                            >”Will do, master.”, Grimbearer bows, “Any specific orders?”

                                            >Such simple undead like those pegasi can't really comply with even the most simple of orders, but... There is no harm in trying.

                                            “Just tell them to stay out of sight.”

                                            >”Promptly, master! Anything else?”

                                            “No.”, you say and shove the chalice away from you.

                                            >”Wonderful. Your will shall be done.”

                                            >And with that said, and another bow, Grimbearer vanishes into the darkness again. Leaving you alone with yourself.

                                            “Yes...”, you sigh, “´My will shall be done.”


                                            >An unknown amount of time passes, spent solely starring mindlessly out of one of the few windows in your lair and watching Luna's pale moon rise, before you come back to your mind again.

                                            >It must be almost midnight by now and a quick look at the grandfather clock near your bed reassures your assumption.

                                            >The ancient timepiece reminds you of simpler times. Times in which you lived among the ponies as a friend and not preyed upon them.

                                            >Standing up and walking towards it, you remove the countless cobwebs that equally as numberless spiders have created there over the years with the tip of your staff.

                                            >As you do this, your gaze falls on an even older framed photograph hanging next to the clock, showing a pink mare hugging you with all of her might.

                                            >What was her name again? Ponks? Penk? Pinkie?

                                            >Yeah... The last one rings a bell.

                                            >By the god you once called your own... How long ago was that? She must be surely dead by now.

                                            >A sad sigh escapes you as you take the picture into your hand and brush the thick layer of dust off of it.

                                            >She was one of the few ponies that were always nice to you and didn't judge you solely by your looks. At least if your memory doesn't betray you right now.

                                            >Which it tends to do more and more, as you had to assess much to your dismay.

                                            >You already have forgotten countless details of your life here in Equestria... Some of which you are grateful to have forgotten and some other you mourn after like a kid who has just lost his pet to the cold embrace of death.

                                            >Like... You are sure you had a special somepony once, even despite your fascination for Princess Celestia. But...

                                            >No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to remember her face or even just her name.

                                            “One day, I will find a spell...”, you mutter and put the picture back on its place on the wall, “That makes me remember you again.”

                                            >She probably gave you the happiest time of your life. That's the least you can do.

                                            “I promise.”

                                            >But enough of that, for now at least.

                                            >With a tap of your staff, you summon Bloodgazer, a disembodied head of a pony, in fact one of the first ponies you ever raised, out of the aether, and gently pet the few strands that still remain of its mane once it fully manifested itself.

                                            >It lets out an almost pleased giggle and floats in front of your face, lightly bopping your nose with its skeletal muzzle.

                                            “Good girl.”

                                            >At least you think it used to be a mare.

                                            “Do you want to accompany me on this dark, lonely night?”

                                            >Bloodgazer furiously nods and alights on your shoulder, nestling itself into the thick shoulder pads of your robe.

                                            “Wonderful.”, you say and feed it one of the many small soul shards you carry around with you at all times, enjoying the seemingly happy sounds it makes while munching on the crystalline fragment.

                                            >Those shards contain the souls of lesser creatures, mostly critters and other animals, and help you fuel some of your more complicated and combat orientated spells.

                                            >Also, for whatever reason, your undead creations seem to enjoy them as a snack.

                                            >Why? You don't know. And if you are honest, you don't particularly care either.

                                            >You speculated some time ago that those shards give them some sense of their former lives back, but you never delved deeper into that subject.

                                            >As long as they don't develop a free will from them, you are fine with whatever effect they give your minions.

                                            >It's not like you need them particularly often either.

                                            >Princess Celestia has ceased her attacks on your lair after she had thrown and lost a whole legion against its walls a few decades ago.

                                            >Nowadays she more or less tolerates your presence in the eastern corner of her kingdom. Only sending the occasional scouting or raiding party your way every once in a while.

                                            >Perhaps she has just forgotten about you.

                                            >Groaning, you push open the heavy oaken doors with a quick spell and tread through them.

                                            >You mean... When was the last time you tried to attract her attention?

                                            >Forty years ago? The siege of Stalliongrad?

                                            >Could be... And even that attack was just to replenish your dwindling forces with fresh “recruits”.

                                            >Why are you even doing this? She clearly detests you and everything you represent.

                                            >For power? For glory? To expand your empire of the undead? You don't even know.

                                            >Everything just became more and more blurry as the years passed.

                                            >Do you really think you could turn her around? Make her like you, perhaps even love you?

                                            >With the things you do?

                                            “Pah!”, you bellow and close the gateway behind you.

                                            >Very unlikely.

                                            >But nevertheless... You keep on going.

                                            >”Gruuuh?”, Bloodgazer drones.

                                            >You give its forehead a quick rub and cast a spell to illuminate the dark hallway before you.

                                            “Don't worry about it, my dear.”

                                            >”Nnngh.”

                                            “Let's check on Gallowfall, shall we?”

                                            >”Grah!”, the pony head caws.

                                            “Wonderful. I'm sure the old crow has something interesting to show me.”


                                            >Slowly but surely you make your way through the dark, confined corridors of your lair, navigating through them like a mouse which called the same labyrinth its home for all of its life.

                                            >And what a labyrinth this place truly is...

                                            >Originally it was built by a proud and rich pack of diamond dogs, who called themselves the “Ironbacks”.

                                            >Probably because of the snow-white fur every one of their alphas had on their backs.

                                            >Your army was relatively small back then and you weren't even sure if it would be enough to conquer their territory.

                                            >Luckily for you, the diamond dogs thought similarly, and immediately sent a sizeable chunk of their forces towards yours once they had noticed you.

                                            >The battle didn't last long and ended with a harsh lesson for them... Namely that your undead are far tougher and fiercer than they might look like and that you had no problem in just reanimating your or the Ironback's casualties once they fell.

                                            >Once they've learned this lesson, they opted to just dig themselves in and wait your siege out.

                                            >Not that this endeavour of them managed to give you much of a bother. Quite the contrary, to be honest.

                                            >Time was and still is just another almost infinite resource for you, and the little nourishment you and your minions needed, you could just got from the occasional scouts that you caught or from the nearby settlements.

                                            >So you were more than happy to just starve them out. Which you managed to do after roughly six months.

                                            >One last large-scale attack was mounted against your forces by them, but it didn't accomplish much other than the opportunity for you to strengthen your army even more.

                                            >In the end they had to either give their home up and flee or be devoured by their former loved ones.

                                            >Unsurprisingly, they chose to flee.

                                            >You allowed those who managed to escape to get away with their lives and then began to establish your lair here.

                                            >And the rest is history, most of which you wish to forget but can't.

                                            >It was a necessary evil... You just needed a place to recuperate and regain your powers after years of peregrination. And this primitive citadel was far enough away from Celestia's grasp to allow you to just do that.

                                            >In addition of having nigh on impenetrable defences, of course... At least after you've rebuilt and improved on them.

                                            >Diamond dogs were never really known for their architectural skills, but you digress.

                                            >Pushing another dilapidated door open, you begin to descend the stairs that were hidden behind it.

                                            >”Gruh, gruuuuuh, grah~”, Bloodgazer croaks in an almost sing-song voice, focusing its eyeless gaze on a spiderlike creature watching you from the ceiling.

                                            >”Sssssssssshh...”, it hisses back, saluting you with one of its many deformed equine legs. .

                                            “Hello, Redcap.”, you reply without looking at it.

                                            >For some strange reason, you gave each and every single one of your creations a name.

                                            >And for some even stranger reason, you never fail to remember or mix up their names. Despite many of them looking nearly the same.

                                            >You gave this specific minion the name “Redcap”. Because of the blazing red mane it once used to have and probably was very proud of.

                                            >Nowadays, you don't even want to look at its countenance any more.

                                            >The spell you used to reanimate it, is one of your more gruesome ones, twisting and morphing its limbs and spine in such ways to give it eight legs and the ability to walk on walls.

                                            >Which makes it, and its many brethren, the perfect guards for your lair's many spires and stairways.

                                            >Despite you ignoring it, except for your little greeting, it still follows your every step as you make your way down the stairs.

                                            >It probably just wants some of your soul shards.

                                            >So you reach into one of your robe's pockets, pull a handful of the crystalline treats out of it and toss them over your shoulder.

                                            >Almost immediately, you hear a thud and the distinct sounds of sharp claws scratching hard stone in an attempt to shove tiny morsels into a deformed maw behind you.

                                            >”Gruh? Grah!”, you hear Bloodgazer bellow and feel it leaving your shoulder.

                                            “No. Stay.”, you command it and brush its bony forehead lightly, causing it to alight again, “It would tear you apart, my dear.”

                                            >”Guuuuh...”

                                            “You will get some more later. I promise.”

                                            >”Gah!”

                                            “Good girl.”

                                            >And with your hungry stalker gone, you reach the end of the stairway in peace and quiet, soon finding yourself before a locked door.

                                            >A small purple orb floats before it, emitting the occasional burst of light every few seconds and filling the room with an electric aura.

                                            >This glowing sphere here is a security measure, in case some intruder somehow manages to penetrate your defences and infiltrate your lair, only allowing you to pass through the door and evaporating anyone else who foolishly tries do to the same with powerful lightning magic.

                                            >Quite a nifty thing, but not very easy to conjure.

                                            >Alone getting the necessary elemental cores for it was a major pain in your posterior... But you digress again.

                                            >Putting your hand on it, you relish the short sensation of electricity it causes to surge through your arm, before recognising you and opening the door in front of you with a quiet click.

                                            >Aaah... One of the few things that still are able to make you feel something.

                                            >Oh, how did you miss this.

                                            >A small giggle escapes you as you walk through the now unlocked gateway, ignoring the confused sounds Bloodgazer lets out.

                                            “There we are, my discarnate companion.”

                                            >You take a deep breath of the stale, but somehow still refreshing air, and then lighten the few torches that litter the even narrower hallways with a simple arcana.

                                            >A spell that Celestia taught you herself when you began to study magic all those years ago...

                                            >”Concentrate on the wind of fire a bit more, will you Anonymous?”, her angelic voice resounds in your head, you clearly able to see her divine smile before your inner eye, “Otherwise it won't work.”

                                            “Like that?”, you mutter to yourself.

                                            >”Gre?”

                                            “Oh...”

                                            >Bloodgazer shoots you a confused look... However it managed to do so with no eyes in its sockets.

                                            “Don't worry about this, dear.”, you chuckle and begin to follow the corridor to your right, “I want to show you a few things on our way to Gallowfall.”


                                            >Gallowfall's laboratory, the place you are headed to, lies on the very end of this damp passageway, giving you ample time and opportunity to show your bodiless friend around a bit.

                                            >Not that there is much to show down here, though... You never really utilized most of the rooms on the lower levels of your lair, since most of them used to be granaries, breweries or facilities of a similar ilk.

                                            >And as much as you used to love to indulge in alcohol, back when you also used to have a pulse, it doesn't do much for you any more.

                                            >Even the blood you drink nowadays is just fermented because it gives it a nicer taste. It almost reminds you of a very heavy wine if you ignore the irony aftertaste...

                                            >But you digress.

                                            >Converting them to something you could use would have taken too much time and too many very specialised minions you didn't have back then and never bothered to create in all those years either.

                                            >Luckily, some of the facilities down here didn't need much refurnishing, and the little that had to be done was easy enough for your basic undead to do.

                                            >Like this one to your left.

                                            >Your gaze falls on a heavy iron door, admiring its silver sheen for a moment before putting your hand on it and relishing the stinging cold it emits.

                                            >The Ironbacks used to store their meat in there, and you use it for the very same purpose to this day too.

                                            >There is no point in showing it to Bloodgazer, though, since it should be pretty much empty right now.

                                            >At least if Grimbearer did tell the truth. Though... You don't have any reason to distrust it, even if you might have allowed it to retain some if its free will when you amalgamated its pony body with a gryphon one and reanimated it, so it could serve you better as an adviser and guide.

                                            >But you could check on the things that make sure it stays as cold as the bleakest of winter's nights. That wouldn't be too bad of an idea.

                                            “No, it really wouldn't be...”, you mumble to yourself.

                                            >”Grah?”

                                            “Nothing, my dear. Let me show you something.”

                                            >So you push the ironclad door open with a quick spell and walk through it, shielding yourself from  the blast of biting cold air.

                                            “Now let's see...”

                                            >”Gruh? G-Gruuhuhuhu!”

                                            “Oh, stop pretending.”

                                            >Silly thing... You wonder what made it do this.

                                            >It doesn't take long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness that reigns supreme in that frigid chamber.

                                            >And soon enough, you see what you wanted to see...

                                            >Three frost elementals. Bound to this room by arcane shackles and leaking the bleakness that sustains the low temperatures in here out of countless holes in their bodies.

                                            >Holes caused by a very rare kind of mineral-eating worm you introduced to their crystalline frames.

                                            >It's far easier and less troublesome than having to send minions out to cut and haul back blocks of ice to your lair.

                                            >And the ambient magic you yourself emit keeps the elementals in a constant regenerative state, so you don't have to worry about them suddenly dying and returning to the plane of existence they originally came from either.

                                            >All in all a pretty effective system. You are sure your former self would have had some problems with it, but...

                                            >It's not like that those things are able to feel pain anyway.

                                            “Stupid, mindless constructs...”, you mutter and step towards the nearest one of them.

                                            >It focuses its eyeless gaze on you. A mere reaction to you presence and nothing more.

                                            >Yes... Nothing more.

                                            >”Las ik su kraa.”, it drones in a monotone voice.

                                            >”Gruh?”

                                            >”Proaka. I bas aeui.”

                                            “S-Suum, kae doaraks kreamd...”, you lie, “Suum, aeui sruibrak krorr ba uqar.”

                                            >”I ruva uir sudk krorr ksreda aeui duvm kuum!”, it shouts, shooting its head towards you.

                                            “Your gods don't exist here...”, you calmly reply, letting a finger run along the seams of one of the many holes in its body, coaxing the worm that lives in it out.

                                            >Oh... What an abominable thing this creature truly is.

                                            >”Uiiiisr!”, the elemental groans, “Yui krorr voae kur srek, macrukomcar!”

                                            >Ignoring its screams, you let the worm snake around your wrist and then show it to Bloodgazer.

                                            “Those creatures are called “Eyeless Stalks”. You can surely te-”

                                            >”Dokmad ba aeui omd aeuir demd!”

                                            “Tell why.”

                                            >”Grah!”

                                            >”Oir sudk krorr koda  kira aeui birm em sra daavaks uk rarrk!”

                                            >But enough of that...

                                            >With a poke on its sharp mandibles, you force the worm back into its icy home again.

                                            >”Ussshrah!”

                                            “Nuv ba pieas, ur I krorr amromca aeuir osumae aqam kura.”

                                            >”Yui krorr voae kur srek... Baraeqa ka!”

                                            “Not in your lifetime, though...”, you say and turn your back to it,heading towards the door, “Let's go, Bloodgazer. We've wasted enough time here.”

                                            >”Gruah!”, it chirps and shoots the bound elemental one last nod as its farewell to it.

                                            “Don't bother with it, my dear... It's mindless anyway.”

                                            >Mindless...

                                            >Yes.


                                            >As the heavy iron door slams into its rusted frame behind you, you can feel a strange sense of relief washing over your body.

                                            >But not because you are out of the cold, oh no...

                                            >Thanks to pact you sealed so many moons ago, even the most extreme temperatures, be they cold or hot, are nothing more than a slight bother to you any more.

                                            >It was because of a different reason.

                                            “Hmm...”, you hum, beginning to head towards the laboratories again.

                                            >But which one?

                                            >”Graaaah?”, your companion drones, its voice bearing a worried tone.

                                            >Were you pitying it? Feeling sorry for the pitiful state you put it in? And you felt relieved because you didn't have to look at it in said state any more?

                                            >But that can't be it, can it?

                                            >You personally summoned, enslaved and bound these elementals to the dark, freezing confines they have to call their home now, and you didn't feel sorry for them back then either.

                                            >”Gruah!”, you feel a dry, rough sensation on your cheek, not unlike sandpaper.

                                            “O-Oh! Bloodgazer?”

                                            >Your gaze falls on the pony head on your shoulder, noticing the small blue flames that started to burn in it eyeless sockets.

                                            >A side effect of feeding it a soul shard earlier and an indication that it gained some power from it.

                                            >Nothing to worry about, though, since it can't do much with it, except for floating around a bit faster now.

                                            >But that's besides the point... Did it...

                                            >Did it just try to lick you to get your attention?

                                            >How morbidly adorable.

                                            “It seems like I was in thought... Sorry, darling. What is it?”

                                            >For a brief moment the image of a white unicorn mare flashes before your inner eye, beaming you a small but gentle and honest smile.

                                            “Ugh.”

                                            >”Gruh?”

                                            “I meant to say...”, you shake your head, “My dear. What did you want?”

                                            >W-What was that about?

                                            >And who was this mare? Do...No she must be dead by now. Everyone you once knew is... Did you know her?

                                            >You make a mental note to ask Grimbearer about her later. It sadly knows a lot more about your past than you do nowadays.

                                            >”Gremuuuh!”

                                            “I seem off?”

                                            >”Grah.”

                                            “Hmm... Perhaps I'm just not feeling well.”, you lie, “It has been awfully dry lately, hasn't it?”

                                            >Bloodgazer lets out a raspy cackle that you interpret as “Yes, it has. Sorry to bother you, master.”.

                                            “You're forgiven.”

                                            >”Greeh?”

                                            >Ignoring Bloodgazer for the second time this day, you hasten your steps a bit and shoulder your staff, relishing the slight warmth it emits.

                                            >Oh... Since when does this ancient relic accompany on your lonesome journey? At least one hundred years must have been passed since you pried this ebony staff out of Nettlekiss' cold, dead hooves.

                                            >You grip the staff with both of your hands and hold it in front of you, letting your gaze wander along its coal-black handle up to the grinning, golden skull that sits on its top.

                                            >Truly a masterpiece of equestrian craftsmanship... The Headmaster's Charge.

                                            >Like you already mentioned, it once belonged to Nettlekiss, the headmaster of Equestria's academy for forbidden and forgotten magical arts.

                                            >A god-forsaken school near the northern badlands, where the changelings dwell, that teaches old schools of magic to those who are willing to learn them.

                                            >Or at least used to teach... Nowadays, nothing much except for smouldering rubble remains of the once proud academy.

                                            >Nettlekiss did put up a good fight, though. Summoning countless elementals and other magical creatures and constructs in an attempt to drive you back, but...

                                            >In the end...

                                            >Even he had to admit that your practised form of forbidden magic was the stronger one and teleported all his remaining students back to Canterlot, at least that's where you assumed he teleported them to, and challenged you to one last duel.

                                            >One last duel that he didn't survive.