Build: Thin Beauty,
|Powers and Abilities|
Meg Stow is a human girl from a fishing village near Undead Island where over a hundred people from kids to grand parents disappeared suddenly one day. She joins the search for her parents and sister along with all the other villagers on the island. Makes her appearance in Undead Island.
She is a girl of seventeen with long brown hair, pretty face, with brown eyes. She wears a frilly dress, with a curvy body, very developed bust, and skinny fit stature. Having worked out on the sea she has developed a very toned athletic build. She also wears a pendant and a chocker around her neck. She has some other jewelry such as rings, brackets, and earrings. She caries with her, her father's Spear Gun.
Meg was taking a break on top of a cliff that overlooked the sea and the entire villiage. The thought of the chicken pot pie she'd bought in the town of Piercenun along with the heavy-duty hooks and lines made her stomach rumble. Boldly taking a seat on the edge of the cliff, Meg looked down on the sea and the sky, where a kitten—like cloud had formed, as she pulled the chicken pot pie from its tin wrapping. Clearing her throat, she turned her eyes back to the sea and sky. They were changing. "Huh. What was that?" she said somewhat fearfully, yet she still managed to bite into her lunch, as she was still a growing girl. As she chewed in mute amazement, something from the distant horizon came swiftly creeping toward the beach.
Oddly enough, there was nothing wrong with Meg. In fact, every inch of her seemed full of energy. She had no trouble moving around.
“Are you acquainted with this?”
Something came flying, pushing its way through the fog to fall at Meg’s feet. It made a sound like meat being tenderized. The naked woman who’d fallen flat on her back stared up at Meg with the vacant eyes of the dead.
“It’s the woman who rendered you unconscious and put you into a conversion pod. What’s more, she actually had wits enough to operate that pod.”
“A conversion pod . . . ?’ A sensation of cold rising from the pit of her stomach turned Meg into a corpse. What had happened back there after she’d lost consciousness?
“Since that time, have you not found yourself different?” The Noblewoman’s answer had been another question.
Meg didn’t know what to say.
“You give no answer. That is your answer,” said the duchess. “Very well, let me ask you this: since that time, have you feltfatigued?”
Nothing from Meg.
“How about pain?”
No reply. “Fright, then?” Nothing. “When in combat, did you ever think you might be defeated?” Silence. “One final question,” the woman said, her voice seeming to carry laughter. “Do you detest blood?”
“Stop it!” Meg shouted shrilly, kicking at the floor. The girl sought some outlet for the anger surging through every inch of her body. However, it was fear that propped up that anger. To rid herself of that fear, Meg was going to bring her anger to bear on the woman in the fog. Not there. Or there. Or there. She ran. And ran. The fog alone went on and on. Meg halted and looked all around.
The voice came to her, saying, “Not even short of breath. You ran eleven hundred yards in thirty-two seconds and you aren't eventired, are you?”
“So what? That’s because I’m in good shape from being out on the sea!”
“Hmm. Well, the sea doesn’t have this.”
Meg’s field of View was dyed red. An enormous volume of liquid had been dumped over her head. It was warm, and it had that color.
“It’s blood,” the woman’s voice informed her dispassionately. “A human would bellow about how loathsome it was. They would feel filthy and need to wash it off. But what about you?”
“That’s a dumb question! I feel the same!” Meg shouted as loudly as she could. “Whatever is the matter? I can’t hear you,” the woman replied. “Huh?" That’s a dumb question! I feel the same.’ “I still can’t hear you,” the woman laughed. “Your voice won’t come out. Not with your tongue out like that."
Before she’d even finished listening to what the woman had said, Meg grasped the meaning of the words. Her tongue was licking at the blood running down her cheek! “I...I...I...” Like a woman possessed, the girl pulled her tongue back in and spit.
“How is the taste?” “Vile. It’s disgusting!" Meg swung her head wildly from side to side. \What the hell would I know about the taste of blood? It was salty. Tasting of iron. Not good. So disgusting. . . So . . . So . . . Oh. . . So delicious.
“That one came to me and boasted how she had made you just like herself.” By “that one,” the duchess meant the woman who lay there. “The conversion affects people differently. In your case, hmm—you are an ideal specimen. The question is, how long will you last?”
A chill pierced the girl from the top of her head down to her crotch.
“How long? What do you mean by that?”
There was a hard clatter at her feet. It was unclear exactly where they’d found it, but it was Meg’s harpoon. Meg shook her muddled head and readied her harpoon. D didn’t move. The girl screamed something unintelligible even to herself. The harpoon flew. Meg watched dazedly as it sank into the stone floor and shook violently.
Meg extricated the harpoon. It felt terribly cold when she put it against the nape of her neck. She slashed the carotid artery open, and her body toppled with a geyser of blood. In no time the twitching had stopped, and from the depths of the fog a voice said, “When something is gained, something must be lost. However, sometimes either will do . . . Zangleson, put the girl in the cage down below.”
Powers and AbilitiesEdit