King Me

Necromancy 102

And again, Yancey was alone with the Necromancer King. She gave him a quick look of disgust, heading straight towards the door. "Yancey, wait," Faust called after her, but she neither paused nor acknowledged his existence. He continued, "Aurelia's life will depend on you listening to me,"

And now she stopped. Her hand slunk into her pocket, gripping the handle of her sickle, "Are you threatening the last of my kings?" She turned slowly, eyeing over the weary Faust. It was strange that he yet seemed so drained, Yancey thought, having been rejuvenated in the stream that flowed through his hut. And yet, for what he personified, his current appearance was perfectly reasonable. 

"Ease, Yancey," Faust replied, flashing his open hands at her. He took a seat, motioning for her to sit across from him, "There are more teachings of necromancy for you to learn. Your ignorance of our ways makes you more of a liability than an ally."

"Better to remain a liability than to take further lessons from my enemy," Yancey retorted.

Faust tapped a finger against his own head, "Voices spoke within your mind when Aurelia lost her eyes, didn't they? Offered a bargain to allow you to fix them?"

"How do you know that?" Yancey asked, beginning to piece things together, Of course, he knows. It must be something to do with Necromancy. Like the voices of hell. The next thing she noticed, was the sly gleam in Faust's eyes. "You're baiting me to get me to listen!" She spat, to which he only shrugged. Yancey, beyond her own belief, actually found herself quite curious.

These powers she now commanded poorly were unlike anything within the confines of reality she'd grown up in. The tournament was one thing, but frankly, she'd always found herself to be quite helpless. Now, she was gaining power at a prodigious rate, and that power was truly the strangest thing that had happened in the time since she'd left Earth. Amongst all the gruesome war, the trama, even the gods and devils, the fact that Yancey Clairvo had become powerful, was most extraordinary. And she wanted more.

She slunk like a pouting child back towards Faust, unhappy to find herself in desperate need of his words, and plopped her rear down on the ground across from where he sat. "Speak, and be quick," She commanded, and for once Faust complied.

"The voices that offered the deal were lesser demons. They are a cursed lot, peddling broken wairs. In the case of returning Aurelia's sight, they might have temporarily repaired her sight, but might, say, implant a tumor along with fresh eyes. Never draw an accord with them." Faust paused, raising his hand towards his Scythe that sat upon the floor a distance away. It trembled for a moment before shooting towards him, landing gracefully in his hand.

"Yet there are those in hell worthy of dealings with. You have seen the creatures I conjure through the power of my Scythe," Faust paused, and a moment later a black portal opened. His tree, the hellish effigy, stepped out on its stumpy legs, releasing a pained, barky laugh. 

"Faust, I see none to consume here," It complained, but a moment later a second black portal opened, wisping the creature away again. Faust set his Scythe to the ground on his left, pointing a finger to where the second portal had just closed at. 

"Familiars are demons who wish to be conjured to this plane of reality for an abundance of reasons. The tree of death, as its name would suggest, simply wishes to bring death. Think of them as people; no two are the same, varying in every conceivable way from the last," Faust closed his eyes for a moment, grasping his scythe. Nothing came, and eventually, a disgruntled sigh pressed through his parched lips. "I am wanting of cheerful thoughts capable of appealing to genial familiars,"

He released his scythe, "Perhaps you will prove more favorable to the whimsical familiars. Draw a task you wish accomplished into your mind, grasp your scythe, and with any luck, a familiar will respond."