Various vapors of different colors (Ranging from bright yellow to the darkest shades of black) drifted lazily around the room, obscuring everything from sight and also severely damaging most of the furniture in the room. Initially, he would have been delighted at the results of the experiments perhaps even ecstatic. However, Lord Xander had other feelings at the moment. He felt his fingers rubbing him temples as he paced in a square around the table holding the vials, the clever little vials. “How, how in all hell could I forget to open the windows every single god damn time?” The words barely escaped from his mouth as the front door was slammed into the wall.
The fumes originally trapped inside the room were now rushing to escape, slightly due to their increased buoyancy levels from the added Eyir Wing. The result was a hazy room and two slightly annoyed males.
He winced at the audible crack in the dry wall before deciding perhaps it would be best to pay more attention to the source of his now damaged wall. Standing in the door way was a tall man, perhaps maybe twenty of age with short blonde hair albeit slightly beginning to bald. (A pity really, at such a young age.) However, the man was built like a warrior with lean slabs of muscle rippling metaphorically underneath his rough spun tunic. A few daggers were strapped to his belt, more for appearance than practicality in this part of town. In the hands of this young man was a bag.
Xander sighed deeply, the pain in his temples increasing and distracting him even more. “Zultiffitor’s horn, do you realize how much that’s going to cost me? I just had the entire wall replaced last week from the last shitty experiment I did.”
The young man laughed, “It’s not my fault you drunkenly convinced yourself that bakeless muffins was a fantastic idea. However, on a slightly more serious note I have stol- er… “Acquired” the … Shit, I have no idea what it’s called, but I have it here.” He nodded his head in a general capacity towards the bag. Or sack, or maybe it’s a pouch.
Xander beckoned for the sack and the young man threw it to him. He let it fall to the floor and frowned. “Can you just give me the fucking bag? For Christ’s sake you don’t know what it’s called or what it is but you know it’s for alchemy and you THROW it!”
He waited for a few seconds until he was sure that the man was not going to try again and picked it up himself. He untied the pouch and upended the contents onto the nearest table. “You know what? I don’t even care, you can find another buyer for anything else you happen to er… Acquire, as you like to call it. Get out of my house.”
The man stood there also now frowning, “Not until I’m paid.” He positioned himself to block the entire doorway and crossed his arms in an act of defiance.
Xander literally smacked his fist onto the table letting the rage flow out of him, “Consider it payment for the wall you destroyed.”
Once again the man stood still, the tension growing as he plucked one of the knives of his belt and began to twirl it. “You will pay me or I will take it back, find another buyer and at the same time end your pitiful existence then I will take my lady friends to buy dinner as we celebrate your death.”
Xander sneered at the knife and walked over to his bed.
He briefly stared into the mirror, noting his black hair and stubble. His eyes flared a bright red mirroring his emotions; he was well built for a practitioner of the dark arts. While he wasn’t as built as the man behind him, he was still quite fit and very handsome for his occupation. He was perhaps 5’11 now, it had been a while since he last checked but he had grown well since his rebirth. On his shoulder were the remnants of a scar, one that followed him no matter the body. It resembled the claws of a hawk, the sigil of his mentor and of course his brand. He pushed his black bangs out of his eyes and combed it neatly to the side.
He began to strip, pulling off the chemically stained smock and the undershirt behind it. In return, he pulled on a white tunic. He carefully smoothed it down and then pulled on a black cowl/coat combo.
The thick shadowy fabric was custom made and obscured most of his body features from sight. He began to gently flex his fingers beneath it. He let a grin show on his face as he turned back towards the man. “I have fantastic news Thief, I no longer have need of your services nor your goods. Why this is fantastic news I have no idea, but you will not be alive to care.” He paused for a moment mid-step, “No wait, shit I’m supposed to think of something more clever.
He flexed his fingers to their full range underneath the cloak and dispersed them in a wide array. From each finger came a bolt of shadow that travelled faster than any arrow, (Flowing through the fabric of the cloak, as it is both made of the same energy so they work essentially like a power bottleneck, open the valve and it flows through.) each spun wildly before converging into a spiral bolt of energy that pierced the man’s chest ripping through the fine muscles and rendering them obsolete. Next came the blood as the bolt dispersed inside of the man, breaking into tiny needles that shredded through anything that remained after the initial bolt.
The man collapsed to the floor in a growing pool of blood, dead on impact and most certainly humiliated as the dagger he had been twirling was lodged in his own body.
The young (Albeit old in the sense of his occupation considering rebirths and all that) Necromancer smiled beneath the cowl of his cloak and rummaged through the room for the necessities he would need before his departure from the city. He would regret not being able to visit the famed brothels, but it would be something he’d have to live with.
He whistled as he left towards the city’s way gates, the vial from the bag clutched tightly in his fist. His next location was that of the most magically advanced place in the world, the realm of Irakix. He would need quite a few souls for his pet project to be finished. Powerful ones…
The fumes originally trapped inside the room were now rushing to escape, slightly due to their increased buoyancy levels from the added Eyir Wing. The result was a hazy room and two slightly annoyed males.
He winced at the audible crack in the dry wall before deciding perhaps it would be best to pay more attention to the source of his now damaged wall. Standing in the door way was a tall man, perhaps maybe twenty of age with short blonde hair albeit slightly beginning to bald. (A pity really, at such a young age.) However, the man was built like a warrior with lean slabs of muscle rippling metaphorically underneath his rough spun tunic. A few daggers were strapped to his belt, more for appearance than practicality in this part of town. In the hands of this young man was a bag.
Xander sighed deeply, the pain in his temples increasing and distracting him even more. “Zultiffitor’s horn, do you realize how much that’s going to cost me? I just had the entire wall replaced last week from the last shitty experiment I did.”
The young man laughed, “It’s not my fault you drunkenly convinced yourself that bakeless muffins was a fantastic idea. However, on a slightly more serious note I have stol- er… “Acquired” the … Shit, I have no idea what it’s called, but I have it here.” He nodded his head in a general capacity towards the bag. Or sack, or maybe it’s a pouch.
Xander beckoned for the sack and the young man threw it to him. He let it fall to the floor and frowned. “Can you just give me the fucking bag? For Christ’s sake you don’t know what it’s called or what it is but you know it’s for alchemy and you THROW it!”
He waited for a few seconds until he was sure that the man was not going to try again and picked it up himself. He untied the pouch and upended the contents onto the nearest table. “You know what? I don’t even care, you can find another buyer for anything else you happen to er… Acquire, as you like to call it. Get out of my house.”
The man stood there also now frowning, “Not until I’m paid.” He positioned himself to block the entire doorway and crossed his arms in an act of defiance.
Xander literally smacked his fist onto the table letting the rage flow out of him, “Consider it payment for the wall you destroyed.”
Once again the man stood still, the tension growing as he plucked one of the knives of his belt and began to twirl it. “You will pay me or I will take it back, find another buyer and at the same time end your pitiful existence then I will take my lady friends to buy dinner as we celebrate your death.”
Xander sneered at the knife and walked over to his bed.
He briefly stared into the mirror, noting his black hair and stubble. His eyes flared a bright red mirroring his emotions; he was well built for a practitioner of the dark arts. While he wasn’t as built as the man behind him, he was still quite fit and very handsome for his occupation. He was perhaps 5’11 now, it had been a while since he last checked but he had grown well since his rebirth. On his shoulder were the remnants of a scar, one that followed him no matter the body. It resembled the claws of a hawk, the sigil of his mentor and of course his brand. He pushed his black bangs out of his eyes and combed it neatly to the side.
He began to strip, pulling off the chemically stained smock and the undershirt behind it. In return, he pulled on a white tunic. He carefully smoothed it down and then pulled on a black cowl/coat combo.
The thick shadowy fabric was custom made and obscured most of his body features from sight. He began to gently flex his fingers beneath it. He let a grin show on his face as he turned back towards the man. “I have fantastic news Thief, I no longer have need of your services nor your goods. Why this is fantastic news I have no idea, but you will not be alive to care.” He paused for a moment mid-step, “No wait, shit I’m supposed to think of something more clever.
He flexed his fingers to their full range underneath the cloak and dispersed them in a wide array. From each finger came a bolt of shadow that travelled faster than any arrow, (Flowing through the fabric of the cloak, as it is both made of the same energy so they work essentially like a power bottleneck, open the valve and it flows through.) each spun wildly before converging into a spiral bolt of energy that pierced the man’s chest ripping through the fine muscles and rendering them obsolete. Next came the blood as the bolt dispersed inside of the man, breaking into tiny needles that shredded through anything that remained after the initial bolt.
The man collapsed to the floor in a growing pool of blood, dead on impact and most certainly humiliated as the dagger he had been twirling was lodged in his own body.
The young (Albeit old in the sense of his occupation considering rebirths and all that) Necromancer smiled beneath the cowl of his cloak and rummaged through the room for the necessities he would need before his departure from the city. He would regret not being able to visit the famed brothels, but it would be something he’d have to live with.
He whistled as he left towards the city’s way gates, the vial from the bag clutched tightly in his fist. His next location was that of the most magically advanced place in the world, the realm of Irakix. He would need quite a few souls for his pet project to be finished. Powerful ones…