Lazarus- Finch’s Loft- Early morning two days prior to the start of the School year.

It was raining again, The man stood once again in his studio only today it was a very different scene than the day before. The window was fully thrown open and wind and irish rain swept across the room. No papers stirred as the tables were bare of food, books and paper alike. No fire fought back against the torrent of rain and cold wind which flurried into the room. The fireplace stood totally empty. Devoid of fire, ash, or wood. The music stand had been disassembled and packed away along with the Violin and sheet music which had accompanied it. The book shelves and been reorganized and covered by white sheets which rippled in the wind. Any books the man might need had been packed away by a stream of moving professionals. 

The room had been prepared for a time devoid of the man's presence, save for a single item which the man stood before. The painting has complete now and it showed a woman in the bloom of her life with hair the color of a dying fire, eyes which were the color of liquid emeralds. The painting took in her bare shoulders which were a milky white contrasted with the straps of a black dress. Her lips of ruby red looked like they had been painted with bright blood and the soft curves of the face let the eye wander across a face which would have brought any man to their knees. 

The sharp chill of the wind didn’t reach Lazarus as he now wore a coat of wool over a long sleeve button down. Blue jeans covered his legs, terminating in lace up black boots which protected his feet from the rain and cold. He’d wrapped a scarf around his neck, it still smelled of her he’d made sure it would never stop. The mess of blonde hair on Lazarus head had been hidden beneath a Longshoreman’s Cap. Lazarus flat grey eyes took in the painting hunting for flaws within the painting and the essence he had infused into it to protect it from the ravages of time. The essence also tugged at the heart strings of any viewer making them feel a part of what Lazarus had felt for the woman. But it was only a pale shadow of what Lazarus felt.

Suddenly Lazarus pulled an electrum cylinder form under his coat. It extended and he smashed the end of it upon the floor. All of the water in the room was immediately pulled out the window and the windows snapped shut against the rain outside. With a sigh Lazarus rubbed his thumb on the cylinder basking in the pool of emotions and memories trapped within Esperacchius. “Im sorry Kathleen.” With that Lazarus flung the white sheet in his right hand over the painting of his beloved Kathleen and turned walking out of the studio and into an uncertain future….

Lazarus- 221 Hickory Ave. Loom - Early After noon One Day before the start of the school year

Lazarus stood framed in the window over looking Hickory Ave. The flat he’d purchased in Loom was largely a hide away for him and Marry when she needed to be away from the academy. There was a nice Irish pub up the street to remind Lazarus of home and the architecture was old english as well as the interior decoration. Lazarus chuckled to himself “Old English” was quickly becoming “Ancient English”. Lazarus missed the rain though, and the smell of the irish sea. 
With a sigh he turned to his desk which he had brought with him for Finch’s loft. On the desk sat a black oak case with intricate locks on the outside. With a pass of his hand Lazarus disengaged the locks with his Will moving the intricate pieces into their proper positions. With a click and the hiss of air the lid unseated itself and Lazarus raised it. Inside sat a sword unlike any other. The blade was an irridescent silver with two edges, the blade terminated in a smooth point on one end and on the other it ended in a hilt made of the same black wood as the case. The Hilt was carved in the shape of a dragon with its body wrapped in leather straps to form a grip for the hands. The hilt was long enough to be wielded in two hands but not so long as it could not be wielded in one. Lazarus had always liked the versatility of the hand and a half sword or “bastard sword”. The Dragons head was the pummel of the sword and in it’s mouth was a chunk of amber cut and polished. This was no ordinary amber as within it swirled energies that could drive the mind of a lesser being insane from staring too long into the Void that sat at the heart of the sword. Lazarus reached down and picked up the blade holding it flat in front of him point at the ceiling. “it’s been a long time…” 

With that Lazarus reached into the wooden boxing a produced a sheath for the sword made of Ash and Black leather which could be belted over the shoulder or at the side as the wielder preferred. Leading the point into the scabbard Lazarus slid the sword home with a solid snap of wood on wood. The Sigils carved into the Hilt and Emblazoned on the leather came to light while the amber radiated beams of an ominous red light. “You seem hungry...Dracul” The sword seemed to warm at these words and Lazarus felt the weight of the dead, their essence stolen by the sword weighing heavily within the sword and in Lazarus soul. “You will feed soon enough, there is a storm on the horizon.” With that Lazarus belted the sword onto his waist, feeling the familiar weight settle into place and an aura of death settle around him. “Here we go again..”

Lazarus- Finnegan’s- Loom- First day of School

Morning
Lazarus sat at the bar staring at a tumbler of Irish whiskey. It hadn’t even been all that long of a day but for some reason Lazarus had simply given up on his endeavours for the day. He sat staring into the tumbler. 

[i]The air smelled of ash and sulfur as Lazarus strode through the flurries which had been kicked up from the battle. His Revenants had been reduced to charred bones as they had detonated upon death one by one, and the zombies had, had their flesh seared away as Lazarus head detonated them as well when they swarmed the angel. The Battle Angel had put up a hell of a fight but this was the end of it. Scorched earth crunched under Lazarus feet as he traversed the open space between him and the Angel. The Angel was kneeling in the ash with a pair of scimitars. Lazarus conjured a lance of ice about two feet long which floated in the air above his hand from the water in the air. With a flick he hurled the lance at the Angel. It was faster than he’d thought as it launched itself from the ground and shattered the lance with its scimitar. Lazarus smirked, he hadn’t even bothered to draw Dracul. The Angel roared and beat its wings launching itself at Lazarus. The swords whistled to through the air but Lazarus simply reached out his hand. The air rippled with the energies of entropy, the swords slowed and began to deteriorate. The Angel looked surprised. Lazarus reached up and drew Dracul as the scimitars labored towards him. Lazarus brought the sword up and shattered the now rusted scimitars of the Angel with Dracul. The Angel roared in frustration and came at him with its hands, It didn’t matter. Lazarus conjured fire the length of Dracul and slammed his will into the Angel’s chest. It shattered the Angel’s ribs. The Angel impacted an outcropping of rocks and lay there its wings broken and coughing blood. “Did you really think you stood a chance?” Lazarus approached with Dracul trailing through the ash behind him.

“Your kind are quite arrogant, rightly so I might add you are typically quite superior to humans but Warlocks are quite...different.” Lazarus crouched down with Dracul pointed into the dirt with his right hand holding the hilt. “Your little attempt at asserting your dominance is over. You’re not going to hurt others any more.” With that Lazarus stood up and pointed Dracul at the Angel’s chest. “Good bye” With that Lazarus leaned on Dracul and it plunged into the Angel’s chest. It tore out the Angel’s essence eating away at it as the soul fled leaving behind just the unconscious essence. The sent of searing flesh permeated the air[/i]

Lazarus sighed and downed the rest of the tumbler before reaching over the bar for the bottle of Irish whiskey and poured himself another glass. Perhaps he’d do a bottle of cider after this. After all it was still quite early. The whiskey went down smooth and when he was done he decided against the cider and left his money on the bar before meandering back to the loft. It was almost a dreary day, not quite enough cloud cover but hey you can’t have everything. Pushing open the door to the loft he descended the stairs towards the basement he’d added the first day they were here. Hopefully Marry was occupying herself, he felt bad leaving her to her own devices but before school started he had more than a few things to take care of. Taking the stairs two at a time Lazarus descended into the warded space below the building. He’d had to bring a few things with him, this he was loathed to take from the safety of Finch’s Loft but things he could ill afford to not have if things went south. 

He passed a series of coffins, those had been fun to transport. Housed inside were an even dozen Revenants complete with full body armor, Automatic rifles and enough ammo to lay waste to a small town. Lazarus ran his hand along a series of pull out shelves with names marked on them. They were the bleached bones of death enemies and allies. While he’d never been able to prove it Lazarus had found that particularly powerful or skill individuals always seemed to make excellent Revenants. A table had been set up that looked like it belonged in a machine shop but it was what Lazarus used to craft his equipment. As an alchemist he only needed the essence of the substances he was working with. Gone were the days of working with herbs and other useless things. He could turn water into alcohol with the right essence and enough time. Lazarus snickered at the thought. Walking over to a desk which he’d set up for working on formulas for spells he pulled open the drawer on the right side of the desk and took out an enameled case. Opening it he revealed a set of eight rings. They were forged out of carbonized steel. He slipped them on and checked the dexterity of his hands by opening and closing his fists. Whenever the ring made contact with one another or impeded his grip the steel flowed like molten metal into a shape more convenient for whatever he was doing with his hands. 
Satisfied with the rings he replaced the box in the drawer and rummaged around for another case. This one was significantly larger. The desk shuddered when he dropped the box on it. Opening it he hefted the vambraces out of the box. While rather small in size the bracers were incredibly heavy. To the casual observer the bracers looked like ordinary metal but Lazarus knew better. The bracers helped him to do many things that he needed to have raw matter to do. Which was why the bracers were an alloy containing tin, copper, gold, silver, aluminum, lead, iron and trace amounts of dozens of other metals, but the reason the bracers were so incredibly heavy was due to the fact that they were largely composed of depleted uranium. While not practical as a fashion statement, the uranium held a large number of subatomic particles per molecule which meant Lazarus could easily transmute it into other things as needed. 

Snapping the bracers closed around his forearms the metal rippled and was absorbed by his body. It would distribute itself along his skeleton making Lazarus heavier than he appeared while not impeding his ability to move. His muscles had long since compensated for internalizing the Golem bracers. The other neat trick with having a metal coated skeleton was it made it much harder to break your bones. With a laugh he recalled a comic book hero from his youth who had a metal skeleton and claws that he could extrude from his fists. What was he called again? the badger? no that didn’t sound right. Oh yes. The Wolverine. Lazarus chuckled at that. 

Wandering over to a door set in the rock beneath the foundations he disengaged the wards and locks set on it before smearing his blood on part of it. The blood was absorbed and the door opened. Within was recessed a statue. Lazarus gave the statue a looking over. Checking the dozens of symbols in place all over it. Next he assessed the essence structure of the object, checking for deterioration but he could find none. Crossing his arms he stared back into his own face reflected in the statue. Hopefully he wouldn’t be needing this.

Lazarus- The Academy Loom- First day of School

Evening
Lazarus tugged on his Longshoreman’s cap as he approached the front of the Academy. He was late. One of his formula’s had captured his attention for more time than he’d intended. As he entered through the front he was stopped by The Academy’s security and asked for identification. He gave them a scathing look but produced an ID. After some scurrying they gave it back and he was on his way. By the sound of things the opening ceremonies were in full swing. He hoped Marry had been alright getting here. With a flick of his wrist the one of the doors to the ballroom opened silently and just enough for him to slide in. A sudden feeling made him turn his entire body a complete 90 degrees to his left. Just in time to miss someone coming by the door. The individual gave him a startled look but Lazarus just ignored him. He was too busy assessing the sheer amount of Essence within this room. Good thing he hadn’t brought Dracul.