The shadowy figure glided through the dark alleys of Death City. It looked up at the moon, past the brim of his tattered and stitched hat. It was a brown pointy hat, tears and holes scattered around the wide brim. A wide black belt had been tied around the middle of the point to cover up a large tear, and a small dagger thrust through the belt. He pulled his brown and threadbare cloak tighter around him as he tore his eyes away from the insanely grinning moon.
"That thing always gave me the creeps…" he grumbled, making his way through another alley.
Finally, he found what he was looking for, but he was far too late. The Kishen Egg, a bearded man wielding a bloody machete had already torn open the poor woman and was gripping the rubbery blue orb in its hand, drooling mouth wide open.
"No, no, no, no! Don't you dare!" he shouted, throwing a punch at the foul creature. The wretched thing roared more in surprise than pain, dropping the soul as it stumbled. As the beast charged at the cloaked figure, he scratched madly at the cobblestones with a clawed iron coated finger. Jumping backwards as the kishen egg swung at him with huge bloody knife and stepped on the scratching the figure was drawing earlier. The figure leapt away and pointed two of his sharp iron fingers at the rune inscribed on the ground.
"Burn!"
A column of fire burned up and through the kishen egg's leg, vaporising it near instantly. The kishen screeched in pain and the figure ran in and stabbed it through the head with his open hand. As the kishen egg fell to the ground, it unravelled to reveal a pulsating red orb. Reaching out, the figure pulled a glass jar, reinforced with bands of iron from his pocket. Grabbing the soul, he popped open the jar and stuffed the evil soul inside.
"Whew. Damn those lazy Meisters." He sighed, tucking the reinforced jar in his cloak pocket. Looking over to the other soul, he watched it bob and sway in the air. "I wonder if the body's okay."
Needless to say, it wasn't. The carcass of the woman was bloodied and torn until it was unrecognisable. All the figure could see of the face was torn lengths of straw blonde hair and, nauseatingly, pure blue eyes that even in death stared into his. The eyes were five metres away from the rest of the corpse.
"That's just disgusting." He said covering his mouth with his iron bound hand. "It's a good thing I brought another jar."
Meanwhile, on the rooftops overlooking the dark alley, two figures sat crouched down looking at the figure as it carefully inserted the soul into the glass jar.
"What do you think Sid? Is it a Witch?"
"I dunno Nygus. Never heard of a male Witch, or one who killed a kishen egg without being provoked. I wonder what he's going to do with those jars?"
"We'll have to follow him. What's that he's scrawling on the wall?"
The figure had walked up to a nearby wall and was scratching at it with an iron finger. Slapping his palm on the rune, he shouted a word.
"Doorway!"
A green rectangle burst from the rune and dissipated, revealing a large wooden door into blackness. The cloaked figure pulled his brim lower and ran into the door, the heavy wooden door slamming shut behind him.
"Damn. He got away." Sid spat.
"Yeah. We should report this to Lord Death."
"No time. I think I can track him, but if we don't hurry up the trail' grow cold."
"What do you mean? He's not using soul protect?"
"Nope. This guy'll be easier to find than I thought."
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
The cloaked figure breathed a sigh of relief as the heavy door closed behind him and dematerialised. He could have been spotted at any time in Death City. He was glad to leave when he did. Checking the inside of his brown cloak, the two jars hummed with their distinctive lights. The pure soul's jar hadn't cracked yet, thank goodness. The figure parted the cloak to reveal the black cloth jerkin underneath and the matching form fitting pants. Like the rest of his outside appearance, his brown boots were scuffed and dirty and came up to his ankles, the end of the boot curling up and around at the end of the toes. The figure's face shone in the sickly moonlight. Dark raven hair and a startlingly pale face with two empty red eyes.
"Damn this place. Just because I'm a Wit-Warlock, doesn't mean they get to cast me out to the Badlands." He grumbled, kicking a loose stone off the dusty ground.
It was eight years ago when He had been chased out of his village. Just after his tenth birthday, it was revealed that his mother was a witch, the townsfolk called on the Weapon Meisters to drive them out. His father tried to join the mob, but he was killed by his former friends. When he and his mother had fled to the Badlands, they made a home. His mother passed away in exile two years after that day.
The warlock continued to walk until he reached what he was looking for. The old stone structure his mother made for them to call home. He called it the Concrete Igloo. A small iron hatch jutted out of the rock, but it looked sealed shut by rust and neglect. Laying an iron clad finger on the rune inscribed on the hatch, he recited the old incantation.
"Know that there are no enemies, open for me if you please."
The hatch groaned appreciatively and gently creaked open. Ducking as he stepped inside, he didn't notice a small pebble lodge itself between the rock and the hatch as it swung closed. Clapping twice, the yellowed arcane lights glowed, revealing a workshop of sorts. Jars of various things lined the walls, charts and diagrams were framed and hung up on the wall and a mat of straw and animal furs had been heaped in a corner to serve as bedding. A cracked mirror hung above it, framed in what may once have been an exquisite gilt frame, but was now tarnished and showed the cheap wood underneath.
"Home sweet home." He shrugged.
Picking the two jars out of his cloak pocket, he opened a locked glass cabinet standing in the corner of the dome. In it were several jars filled with Kishen Eggs, each of the jars bound with iron. Carefully placing the newest member into the storage cabinet, he took out the other jar and looked at the blue soul within. Looking back to the cabinet, he furrowed his brow, which is pretty hard to do when you're only eighteen, then smirked slightly.
"I've always wanted to try this."
Setting down the glass jar on a roughhewn table, the figure rolled back his sleeves, revealing the dull iron gauntlets that extended to his elbows. Rushing over to A cauldron centred in the middle of the room, he began gathering reagents from around the room and adding them to the now roiling pot.
"Thirty five litres of water, twenty kilograms of carbon, four litres of ammonia, one point five kilograms of limes… No, wait! Just lime! Oh well, at least she won't smell bad. Eight hundred grams of phosphorus…"
As each object was added to the bubbling cauldron, a shadow in the darkness ran a hand over the handle of his weapon.
"Now… For the final ingredient." The warlock said, wiping droplets of sweat from his young brow. Delicately picking up the jar, he strode over to the cauldron and dropped the soul in. The arcane fire beneath the cauldron crackled and spat and the sound of hellish screaming filled the air, causing him to leap back.
From the flesh coloured liquid, a congealing hand slapped over the side of the cauldron. A deformed bald head soon followed, half formed eyes starring wildly around the poorly lit workshop. The rest of the human body followed, slapping its way out of the cauldron, the fire now extinguished underneath it. It landed on the ground with a thump and blonde hair grew rapidly on her head until it hung down to her shoulders, her bright blue eyes burning underneath her hair. When she had calmed down, she looked around, still breathing heavily.
"Are you alright miss?" asked the warlock, causing her to reel back slightly. The woman examined her body and blushed when she realised she was completely naked! The warlock blushed as well and took the brown cloak off his back. "Here. You look cold."
"Th-thank you." She said in a croaky voice, wrapping the threadbare cloak around her. "What happened? The last thing I remember before blacking out was blood. So much pain and, and blood…"
"Well… You didn't black out. Much worse I'm afraid. You died. You were about to be eaten by a Kishen Egg, but I managed to stop it before it could eat your soul."
The woman looked over to the glass cabinet filled with Kishen Eggs and shuddered slightly. As she tried to stand up, she stumbled and crashed against the cauldron.
"Whoa! Let me help you." He said, leaning in to her up.
"I'm fine." She said, looking around the workshop, the cauldron and back to his scruffy figure. "You're a witch!"
"I prefer the term warlock, but yes, that's what I am." He said, helping her to her feet. "But you need to get back to Death City. I'll see what I can give you for the road."
The woman sniffed at the air and then sniffed at her forearm. "Why do I smell like lemons?"
"It was actually limes, but it was a small miscalculation on my part. Think of it this way, at least you won't have to bathe for a while." He said while rooting about in a copper bound chest in a darkened corner of the room before pulling out another brown cloak, this one in a little better condition, and draping it around himself. From the chest he also pulled a large and raggedy bag and stuffed some sparse provisions into the pack.
The woman looked inside the now clean cauldron and stared into it. "How did you actually bring me back? I thought it was impossible to resurrect the dead."
"Well you weren't dead exactly. Your soul was still intact and held within one of the jars you see those Kishen Eggs are in. I couldn't just leave you there to fade into nothingness, so I decided to make a new body for you. See, my mother had specialised in flesh golems. She could create artificial people."
"That's horrifying!" she shouted, stepping away from the cauldron. "I thought flesh golems were the only kind that was forbidden!"
"However, they were very handy to have around the house, not to mention a lot friendlier than cold, clammy clay. Anyway, I just thought that since flesh golems are basically humans, I scaled up the recipe slightly and put your soul into your new body. Honestly, I never thought it could work, but this is an amazing find!"
"Why did you have to use me?! Couldn't you use one of those Kishen Eggs over there?" she asked, pointing to the glass cabinet.
"Are you insane?!" he shouted. "I couldn't do that! The results could be catastrophic!"
"Sorry." She said, looking at the ground.
The warlock sighed as he stuffed several books into the pack. "No, no. I'm sorry. You're in a very delicate balance right now, if you're disturbed too much, your body could collapse and I'll have to start again. Not to mention your soul may become damaged."
"You mean if I become too stressed I'll die again?!"
"Calm! Please!" he pleaded. "You won't die if you just calm down!"
The woman shuddered slightly and took several deep breaths, pulling the cloak around her a bit more. "Alright. I think I've calmed down."
"Excellent." He said, pulling the heavy pack onto his shoulders. "Now we have to get out of here."
"What? Why?"
The warlock drew the dagger from the sheath on his hat and wrapped the woman in his cloak as he inscribed a rune on the ground with the dagger. "Because we're being watched."
Sid and Nygus leapt at the warlock from the shadows, only to be stopped by a wall of rock falling from the ceiling!
"Teleport!"
The warlock and the woman disappeared into the earth as it swallowed them up and the rest of the concrete igloo collapsed, destroying the workshop, the glass cabinet and the souls contained within, and all traces of the warlock and his exiled mother. It was good to be prepared for anything.
*v*v*v*
*v*v*v*
On a grassy hilltop, hundreds of metres away, the warlock and the woman burst forth from the ground and landed on the ground, the Warlock coughing and spitting dirt from his mouth.
"Never could quite get the hang of that one…"
The woman had already scrambled to her feet and was about to run, when something stopped her. She stood over the eighteen year old warlock and helped him to his feet.
"Thanks." He said, coughing once more before sliding the dagger back into his hat.
"No problem. You brought me back to life. The least I can do is help you up."
The warlock stood straighter and looked over to the horizon and saw the sun appear.
"Well, it's probably best if we get you back to Death City." He said, wrapping the cloak around him a little more and dipping the brim on his hat lower.
"I'm not going back."
"What?"
"If I go back, then people will ask me why I'm not dead. Eventually, they'll learn about you, if that meister hasn't reported you already." She said, balling her fists. "Besides, I'm not about to let my debt to you go unrepaid."
The warlock was slightly at a loss for words. "Are you sure? You're just going to throw everything you had in Death City away?"
"I lost everything when I died. Now I have nothing but a new life." She said. "And I may as well spend it following your butt around."
The warlock thought for a moment before smiling warmly. "Then let's go. I think I know a town that's friendlier to witches and warlocks more than most."
"Meaning they'll only decapitate us instead of burning us alive?" the woman hazarded a guess.
"Slightly friendlier than what you're thinking." He said, starting to march in the direction of the rising sun as the woman followed him.
"By the way, you haven't told me your name."
"My name? Well, I guess I should give you the courtesy if you'll do the same for me." He said. "I am Insidious. The last of the Warlocks."