Ink Splotches: WWFFY Part 20

WOO, really cutting it close with this one, eh? Heh heh...yeah. Hm, this one is pretty cool. I like the results B] Hope you guys do too~ Remember: Messages encourage me to write faster. Well-written and thought-out messages encourage me to write even MORE faster. Yeah. How's THAT for a thinly-veiled bribe?

Created by chocovampz3 on 11/30/1999

Take the Ink Splotches: WWFFY Part 20 quiz.

You scoff. “No shit, Sherlock.” He casts you a sidelong glance. “Really, Savior? You’re resorting to petty human curse words? If you are aiming to insult me, at least reserve some class.”

You flip him the bird. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Oh, very mature. Do you wish for me to help you, or not?”

The necromancer shifts uncomfortably as angry tears drip down your face. “Er...Savior? alright?”

You hear him exhale in frustration before a pair of long arms wrap around you. “It’’s going to be okay, little Savior...” he awkwardly pats your back. “Er, we’ll find your mother...don’t cry...ah, damn this,” he mutters.

You blink, surprised at the affection that the shady necromancer is capable of. “Don’t cry! It’s...bad for the health,” he offers, still patting your back. You laugh at his lame attempts. He sighs in relief and releases you. “Are you better now?” he asks.

“Thank the devil,” he mutters. He runs a hand through his lank black hair. “I apologize, I’m just not used to...tears.” You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a necromancer. Don’t tell me that no one’s ever cried in front of you before.”

He scoffs, pulling his hair into a low ponytail at his neck. “Tears of grown men and women don’t faze me as they used to. But you’re still a child, little Savior. I may be a necromancer, but I am no monster. No, I just resurrect them,” he adds with a cagy

You make a noncommittal noise before asking, “So can you help me or not?” The necromancer eyes you warily. “I don’t know...I may be capable of it, but this...I don’t want to get too involved.” You snort. “Please. You’re raising dead mother,” your

“I do that for every client. But helping you search for your mother’s missing body?” he shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. Perhaps if you were just a normal client, I’d readily be able to help,” he says, studying the strange formations in the

The necromancer cocks his head. “You’re a Savior. Helping you would mean leaning toward the Gifted ones’ side of the war.”

“You don’t see? Let me explain,” he says, turning and pacing across the tiny distance of the dank tomb. “In this war, there is the Gifted ones’ side, which would be YOUR side, and the demons’ side. All across our realm, and the next one, you may ask any

“And what will happen to these people if the opposing side wins?” He asks, whirling around to face you. You shake your head and shrug. “I’ll tell you; they DIE, little Savior. Now, think about this: after a war, what is there plenty of?”

“, debt?” you answer without conviction. The necromancer rolls his eyes, muttering something about humans. “No, little Savior, that was not the answer that I was looking for. I was speaking of DEATH. After a war, there is ALWAYS a large amount of

“So when whichever side wins the war, what will they ultimately wish to do?” You sigh, “Raise their dead?” The necromancer spins around and points to you, “Yes! Exactly. And who do they get to raise their dead?” You roll your eyes. “Necromancers?”

“Yes. And if the necromancers were to, say, be on the OPPOSITE side, the losing side, what would happen to necromancers?” You took a wild guess, “They’d be killed?” Kyrindor snapped his fingers. “Killed, and NEVER be considered for business again. Do you

“I see the dilemma,” you agree. “But was it really necessary to drone on like this for 10 minutes? You could’ve just left it at, ‘we need to stay neutral so that the winning side will consider us for business’. No need for the lengthy speech.”

He sniffed, pulling up his collar. “I do what I feel needs to be done.” You took a deep breath, before making your case. Which is your method of persuasion?

So it’ll probably sound a little something like this:

The necromancer groaned, sliding his hands over his eyes. “I...I don’t know...if the demons hear about it...” You cut him off, “They won’t! And even if they do, it’s not like you’re planning a freaking counterattack against them! You’re just helping a

The necromancer sighed and crossed his arms, obviously mulling it over. “If you don’t help me, I’ll start crying again.” He stumbles at your threat before holding up his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright, little Savior” he conceded. “I’ll help you. But

You nod, placing your hands on the edge of the coffin. “So,” you say, leaning forward and enunciating every word, “Who took my mother?” The necromancer shook his head.

“Ah ah ah, Little Savior,” he said, wagging his finger at you. “No. Now you are going to go right back to your other little Saviors, right now. Understand? Good.” He walked around you and began up the stairs, sliding his hands in his pockets. “Coming,

You run up after him. He’s already outside. You push the tomb door open and are greeted with his outstretched hand. You frown. “What…?” He raises an eyebrow. “Take my hand, little Savior. Must we walk through this again?”

“Any day now, little Savior.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to.”

The necromancer rolls his violet eyes and mutters something incomprehensible. It sounded something like, “Stupid crying humans,” but you could’ve been mistaken. You barely have time to react before he leans forward, grabs your hand, and secures it in the

You gasp, as everything goes black and the air around you begins to rush once more. You close your eyes, terrified again, before you remember to focus on the pain of the necromancer’s grip. Your tether to reality.

“You may open your eyes, Little Savior.” You blink, letting go of the necromancer’s hand. “Whoa,” you remark, still blinking the spots from your vision. “Man...I HATE that.”

The necromancer laughs, “Of course you do. Well, this is farewell,” he says abruptly, turning from you and moving toward the heavily forested area.

“W-wait!” you call, stumbling after him. “You said you’d help me—

“And help you I will, Little Savior,” he responds without another glance back at you. “But for now, return to your other Saviors. Back to the Oracle. I have a feeling there is some big news in wait.”

You frown. “ will I find you?”

“Oh no,” he says, turning back. “You do not find me. I find YOU.” For some unknown reason, you shuddered at his statement. “Oh, er...okay.”

He nods once, satisfied. “Glad you understand. Ah, and one more thing,” he adds, leaning uncomfortably close, almost nose-to-nose with you. “I am assuming you decided to raise your mother in secret?”

A knowing smile raises his lips. “I thought as much. Let us keep that way, hm?”

You nod again, resisting the urge to step away from his too-close position. He suddenly veers back, humming the same melody he’d been humming in the graveyard before.

“Till we meet again, Little Savior,” he bids, disappearing into the woods, the haunting tune of his humming keeping you company long after he’s left. You sigh. Time to get back to the Oracle’s Palace.


Kyrindor walked until he was absolutely sure you were out of hearing distance, and then some. He stopped and took off his glove, raising it up in the moonlight. It was glowing with a purple residue. His mood became grim.

He’d known exactly who had been to your mother’s tomb the second he’d thrown the lid open. He was just hoping that perhaps he’d been wrong. Not this time. He sighed and took off his other glove, carefully folding them both and depositing them in his

“I’m sorry about this, little Savior. Seems I won’t be able to help you after all.”

...SCENE. Okay, ADMIT IT. YOU KIND OF LOVE KYRINDOR NOW. I do! (That's cause you created him) SO? Ha, please continue onto the RETURN of you to the Oracle's Palace.

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