Chapter Eight: The Necromancers New Hobby

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As of late, Faustus had noticed the distinct ease in which certain expressions dared to twitch absent mindedly onto his mug. Evil possessive smirks instantly took hold, upon witnessing the ludicrous fiasco's that continued to haunt his very presence. For instance, that in which was presenting itself to the damned tailor, enlisted several strained attempts from the man, to hide his inappropriate emotional outbursts of contented joy.

Outside his proud family owned business of several generations, a raucous casually filled the very streets of Willendorf. This had all started unexpectedly, thanks to a Necromancers obsession and a Time Streamers inability to let anything 'go'.

Earlier that day after interrogating Faustus, Moebius arrived at a rather lovely cabin. Within, a heated dispute raged as Sebastian dared to destroy several of Magnus's most prized posetions. This was all very well and good, however Magnus was not one known for an unbridled degree of rational thought.

The Army Commander regarded his damaged collection of Tupperware with a deep sense of loss. These items were delivered to his domain at quite the unbearable cost. Many families suffered the full wrath of this odd hobby, that captured the mans every waking moment, through constant raids and humiliations. Though his mourning wasn't instantaneous, he planned a funeral for the very next day, his wrath was.

Before the incident transpired, Sebastian had returned from his very first day shopping amongst the townsfolk. The experience was daunting, many of the city goers suggested cruel and unusual things to the fashion victim. The first lying with the strange arrangement the fellow held, now living with a certain Army Commander. Willendorf thrived on gossip, Sebastian's livelihood and appearance fit a stereotypical aspect, that the village elders could not deny. For the rest of the day , the towns people offered the man many a strange item. For instance, fruit seemed to top this expansive list.

Upon arriving home, Sebastian was carrying, at least five baskets of peaches and other assorted goodies. Sadly, gravity let fly and an expressionistic parade of edibles graced the hallway, knocking over Magnus's prized conversation piece and several other items of Tupperware. Which happened to be a BK (Before Kain, as this is how Nosgothians mark time, around he who condemned the land, even though he hadn't done anything, yet), archaic kettle from the Great Southern Lake region.

An interesting tale lay behind this prized possession. It was said that back in the day, a strange mysterious being known as Moe or Mimmy, lived in the Sarafan's keep, on the lakes outskirts. From within, the fellow had a rather tiresome day, a by product of serving the powerful and evil Lord Malek. Said to be the great and long feared Necromancer who condemned that skeleton of a man Mortimer to an eternity of suffering.

Now this story has been past down a great line of individuals, so they can be forgiven for missing a few key points. Anyway, Moe or Mimmy, was busy cleaning the fearsome Maleks inner sanctum after partying the night before. The legendary Time Streaker had quite the hangover from an archaic deviants anonymous get together.

Suddenly, a loud thudding interrupted the man's obsessive cleaning regiment. He called for the ever faithful Sarafan, Dora and Rahib, to answer the blasted door. However these two were busy, having their own little celebration. Which resulted in the proud warriors crashing into a willowy tree, causing their own premature demise. Like some strange little blue creature said, it never pays to get soused on the job.

Moe was forced to remove his drooling exhausted self, off of Maleks finally stitched Willendorf carpeting. He answered the door, after much heartache, discovering a kettle abandoned at the first front step. Simply left alone, without a soul in sight, except for Dora's and Rahib's departing ones.

So, the streaker lovingly took the item inside and gave it a comfortable home for the next five and a bit centuries. Sadly parting with the damn thing when Mortimer, the suit of finely crafter amour, sold it for more socks.

In truth, the kettle was cast aside into the Southern Lake by a cranky Time Streamer, annoyed by the lack of fresh milk that morning. Honestly, Mortanius was a heartless bastard.

Magnus, however knew neither of these stories and simply told people, it originally belonged to Vorador. scourge of Termogent forest, a craven beast he once defeated a long time ago. In reality he bought the trinket from Agatha's Antiques on the other side of town.

In the present, Sebastian was quite the unlucky designer, as Magnus had been home when this incident occurred. As the tailer fell easily to a the mans deranged desire to place him in a headlock, the door bell rang. After several attempts at the civilized way, an old man gave up and merely entered the humble abode. With several blackened entities trailing behind him, Moebius stared disgusted at the pair. He then grabbed one of the foul creatures and held it high in the air above their faces.

Moebius: Which one of you cretinous imbeciles created these...things?

Sebastian and Magnus ceased their squabble for a moment and glanced towards the sockling, then at one another. After a brief awe stricken silence the pair fell to the ground in utter hysterics.

Moebius was at the end of his tether, the entire affair had been a nightmare filled with the most undeniable atrocities. The rage presented its self swiftly, from the Streamers undeniably calm exterior. His anger lashed forth striking the two jackanapes off balance, as they were teleported into the nearby street which happened to be directly in front of Faustus's abode.

Moebius: Why you disgusting, little peasants! Tell me, or feel the wrath of time upon your features!

Sebastian: Old man, we haven't the foggiest, what in the abyss you're going on about!

Magnus: Do your worst, miserable ancient fiend!

With a graceful flick of the wrist Moebius patted his 'snow globe' and a deliciously evil smile followed. Magnus felt his head for a moment, there was something distinctive missing. His dome felt cold and naked, then the realization hit, with a sudden dread. He was bald. That long wavy mass of blackened hair fell onto the stony streets nearby, abandoning their former perch. There was a shrill scream as Magnus fell to the ground clutching himself pathetically and whimpering for someone called Mumsy. Sebastian looked disdainfully at his roommate and decided the most apt thing to do at this moment was to help the wrinkled stranger.

Sebastian: I'm afraid you have been led on a fruitless (cringing at the word) quest.

Moebius: Why should I believe you? Certain sources were quite insistent, regarding your guilt, tailor!

Sebastian: Oh, really?

From behind the pair, a distinctive muffled laugh filled the air. Sebastian arched his eyebrows and subtley hinted to the Streamer, who was obviously responsible. Faustus had tried ever so hard to muffle his enjoyment of the situation invading his front yard, yet failure ensued.

Moebius glared at the pony tailed fashion freak and decided it was time to show this special someone, what the pointy end of his staff was for.

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Moebius smiled to himself and thought back to the event in Willendorf, oh the things he did to that tailer. Now he was finally home, Mortanius's chamber, clean at last and those damned socks finally layed to rest. They had been destroyed when Fausty's infamous family business caught on fire. Suspiciously, another tailer had fled the town along with a certain old man reported to be at the scene.

Moebius sat down, at last a chance to relax, take in his surroundings and a time to enjoy a nice cup of milk. He sat, alone, in his personal chamber, simply lazing about. Suddenly, Mortanius popped his head into the room and smiled, which was quite strange for the Necromancer, especially towards Moebius.

Moebius: Mortanius you decrepit skeleton, what do you desire from me?

Mortanius: Oh, lets just say I wanted to show off my latest creation.

For a moment Moebius's heart stopped in fearful anticipation. Oh no, surely the demented fool hadn't created more of those, things? The Necromancer turned around, bringing in a youth.

Mortanius: This is Tom, our latest recruit. Strangely gifted in the dark arts and ready to fill in poor Raziels former position. His first mission shall be against that vile fiend, Vorador.

In truth Tommy was the keeps head gardener. (Ref. See, The Eternal Flower)

Moebius: (Clearly relieved), Oh, that's nice. Welcome to the team, goodbye.

With that, they left and the Time Streamer closed his bedrooms door and prepared for the night ahead. Removing his robe and slipping into a fine pajama set, a gift from a secret admirer, a few days ago. As he quietly slumbered, a lone sleeve began to twitch.

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Back in Willendorf, Marcus and Faustus sighed, looking at the rubble that had formerly supported their livelihood.

Marcus: (Almost wailing) What now?

Faustus: Oh, who knows? We could move to Termogent forest, become Gypsy's and peddle our wares. We'll be fine, no vampires due to the swamp and plenty of hunters in need of garments.

Before Marcus could inform Faustus, what those hunters were tracking down, the two were off and ready to embrace their infamous destiny.

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