Second Target: The Gravekeeper

[Godhand]

"Oh, boo hoo! Oh, BOO HOO!" Godhand plucked up another piece of chicken and began to chomp it down with abandon. "Mmm, delicious! Yeah! Not a person!"

Deciding that he'd hammed it up about enough, Godhand put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin placed next to him. The mercenary reached down and undid his belt by a couple of notches. Whew, his brain felt like it was dipped in trypthophan and then set to a slow roast. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking.

"We leave...Whenever I wake up. Jesus, I'm exhausted. Okay, I'm gonna hit the bricks. Don't kill nobody while I'm sleeping."

Godhand pushed himself up from the table and announced his desire to sleep to the crowd. It was almost funny how they'd stuck to him ever since he'd taken out those guards; they must have looked at him like some sort of messiah. He supposed it wasn't surprising; when all you've had to eat for months is water-thin soup, even a mediocre stake tastes like glory. The townspeople quickly darted to and fro, inquiring with each other about where he should sleep. A decision was quickly reached, deciding to simply allow him to remain in one of the inn's room. Nobody was occupying any of the rooms, after all; Delion didn't get much tourism after The Scourge took control. Lillian had already been moved up to a suite, and even though bunking with her was tempting, he just couldn't get over the fact that she was underage. Godhand went to sleep in one of the inn's ordinary rooms.

It had been pretty sparse to begin with, but it was positively bare after Xem'Zund. Anything in the room that had been of any use or value had been stripped away, from the mirror to the oil lamp. The mercenary collapsed wearily unto the threadbare bed, burying his face in the pillow. Mmm, a woman had slept there recently. He could smell her on the sheets. The gunman smiled; it was with this thought that he finally went to sleep.

[Dissinger]

Seth was more than certain Godhand had to be high on life. Why else would he go to so much trouble to rub everything in Seth's face? Still he endured his leader's attempted torment on him, before he grabbed a chair, watching the crowds depart. A few looked at him, almost fearfully as he moved to a far corner of the tavern, where he could easily be seen approaching anything before he sat down in one of the chairs. His hat moved to cover his eyes as he tried to relax.

It was then he heard a throat clear.

"You know, its bad form to interrupt someone trying to sleep," Seth said rather tartly.

The throat cleared again. With a sigh of long suffering Seth sat back up and pulled the hat back before he saw the guard he had thrown earlier. Seth raised an eyebrow at the obvious intruder before he put a hand forward, "I'd erm, like to apologize."

"Right, about that, I understand where you're coming from, but how many undead do you honestly get into arguments with?" Seth asked.

"Not many-"

"Exactly. So I would figure the fact I'm a bit smarter than your average undead would mean, you listen when I fucking talk," Seth replied.

"Like I said I'm here to apologize-"

"Do you mean it?" Seth retorted.

"What do you mean?" The guard asked bewildered as his hand dropped.

Seth shifted in his seat before he brought both hands up to his face and said, very slowly, "Do...you...mean...it...Do you honestly mean to tell me you're sorry? Or are you kissing Godhand's ass when you do it?"

"I..."

"Your lips can only be doing one thing at a time, so kiss Godhand's ass, or tell me you're sorry. But if you're not sorry, don't you fucking patronize me," Seth curtly spat.

The guard looked at the ghoul for a long time before he spoke for the first time sounding frank, "To be honest I think you're an abomination. In life you murdered and in death, you’re punished to commit more murders? What kind of God would punish someone with what they excelled at?"

"Wasn't a God, but thanks for playing," Seth replied frankly, "So, since you obviously aren't sorry, get the fuck out of my sight, I have some sleep to do."

The guard snorted as he turned and walked off, muttering thing sunder his breath, things he thought Seth couldn't hear. Oh how he was wrong, Seth heard them, perfectly fine. Still, he let them slide, especially after he had basically torn apart the damn elf. Taking a more restful position he tipped the hat back over his eyes and let what little fatigue he had claim him.

[Godhand]

Godhand had awoken earlier than he'd expected. The mercenary hopped out of bed and jogged in place, unusually chipper. It was probably that meal; Jesus was it good. He stretched a bit, doing all the poses that he'd seen fitness gurus do in the pamphlets they handed out. He stretched out his arms and tried to feel the burn, but he still felt the same. Feeling cheated, he walked over to the bathroom and began his morning rituals. The bathroom was as sparse as the bedroom, as previously mentioned, so he couldn't really groom himself well, but that didn't stop him from trying. At least the water was hot, anyway; the villagers had asked him to tell them when he was going to shower so they could start the furnace. The water pressure was pretty bad, but he supposed you couldn't have everything. He just took a bath instead of a shower.

When he finally walked out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, he felt reinvigorated. His breath was fresh, his hair was groomed, his skin was scrubbed and his nails were filed. Truly, he was a renaissance gentleman. It was then he'd noticed that sometime during his shower someone had entered the bathroom, taken out his clothes, cleaned them and then arranged them on the bed. The swordsman must have been pretty out of it because he could usually feel the moment someone entered into a room. No harm done, he admitted, but realized he'd have to be more careful from now on. If he'd dozed off in the tub back in Radasanth, he would have woken up with a knife sticking out of his neck. How telling was it of his lifestyle that he was safer in a zombie infested hellhole than he was in his own home?

The mercenary walked down to the first floor of the inn, feeling good about himself and his situation. Lord, what a good hot bath can do for a person. It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds, and Delion definitely looked better at morning than at night. He gave a curt nod to the inn-keeper as he headed out, breathing in a lungful of fresh Raeiarea air. Running a hand through his hair, Godhand gave a dazzling smile to the nearest lady before inquiring where his undead friend was. They'd put him to sleep in a barn, which he found rather funny. Opening the wooden doors with a kick, he shouted into Seth's makeshift bedroom.

"Good morning party people!"

[Dissinger]

Seth squinted in the morning light as he saw Godhand standing there, his mood far more jubilant than he had ever seen it. Getting up and dusting himself of hay he grunted softly as he stretched, feeling joints pop as he relieved the stress pressed upon them. The citizens in the tavern had harassed him until he had gone into the barn, probably as part of their necrophobia. The result was that the Ghoul was not happy with his living accommodations, compared to Godhand’s, but endure. His pride could be sated later. Finally he looked at the mercenary before he said, "Well aren't you the chipper one this morning. Do we have our next target? Or are you just that happy to see me?"

He glanced around the empty barn, the livestock had probably been slain when Anderson had taken over. Still he was more than certain this was the only way they would have left him alone, since they could easily ignore him. He had after all gotten most of the night to think, which was probably the depressing part of it all. He really didn't want to think. Why the hell would he go over his crimes, when his death allowed him to atone for them? With a sigh of long suffering he walked out of the barn, and into the sunlight.

He had been here in months and not seen the sun. The fact it was present in the area was a bit reassuring. Perhaps it was that whole guilt complex he had spent two years building, but the idea that the NWO's work had caused this was comforting. Still, he knew better than to ever attribute the work he was to embark on to be altruistic. There wasn't a charitable bone in Godhand's body, it was all business.

Most of the people seemed unnerved to see him standing in the sunlight, even as he felt his skin begin to warm. Being dead had given it a cool feel to the skin, and it usually took a warm day, much like today seemed to be becoming that would finally make him at least look alive. Still he looked about the area before he looked over his shoulder at Godhand, "You know if these are your 'party people' they're sadly lacking in party."

[Godhand]

"Quit bringin' me down, guy! Can't you see I'm enjoying myself? Alright, hold on," the mercenary put his hand into his pocket and fished out the list, straightening it out and holding it before the zombie. "Okay, so who's next?"

"Can't you just give me the list so I can read it?"

"No, I have to put this back in my pocket and if I give it to you it'll start smelling like zombie. Read from there."

"Jesus. Okay, how about the Gravekeeper?"

Godhand turned the list in his hand and read over the man bearing that epithet. The list gave a brief physical description and then a list of skills and abilities. The Gravekeeper was probably the strangest of all the Necrisition, his skills unlike any the others wielded. He was strong and a capable necromancer, but that wasn't the interesting part. Apparently the coffin he carried on his back was a Pandora's box of horrors. The mercenary quirked a brow and looked back over to Seth.

"You know me; I'll fight anybody. But it says here this guy is a necromancer. What does, uhh...How do you fit into something like that?"

"I doubt he could control me, not even my girlfriend could control me. Worst that'll happen? He annoys me."

"Hahaha your girlfriend? Hahahah what? Look, I don't care, man. If you think you can handle it, then we'll do this."

Their decision made, they approached Caylen with their target chosen. The elderly village head revealed that the Gravekeeper was last seen several miles north, devastating the remaining Bladesingers. The horses were rested by now, and Godhand instructed Seth to wait for him in the wagon. The mobster walked back to the inn and helped himself to some salt-treated jerky, "for the road" he informed the inn-keeper. With that done, the mercenary hoisted himself back up on the wagon and whipped the horses with the reins. It was about a six hour ride and he didn't have real good company, but at least they were getting rid of this guy early.

[Dissinger]

For the most part the trip was silent, which Seth was grateful for. He'd rather it be quiet and then get to the fighting than have to endure Godhand's smart ass comments. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be around Godhand for extended periods of time, but he attributed it to repressing the memories, rather than any other thing, like forgetfulness. It wasn’t something he was keen on dwelling upon, and so he pushed the mutinous thoughts to the back of his mind. Seth meanwhile had time to ponder a few things.

He was perhaps at a skeletal bare situation. His magic was repressed, his body was dead. He was forced to eat people to survive, and he still hadn't found a damn one of his knives. The bastards had probably lost them by now, and they could have been anywhere. He was facing forever being reanimated, without any chance of going back to sleep, cause some fucker had stolen his shit and lost it. A sigh left his lips as he pondered how he was going to get them back, at least the majority. He didn't need to leave the NWO anytime soon. Still, the problem was he didn't even know where one knife was, let alone all seven and his bag.

It was at that time he felt a tug, where his heart should have been. Frowning he looked down at the hole in his chest before he felt it again, more urgently. Baffled by the newfound behavior of his hole he mused, "Is one of my knives out there?"

Ignoring any reply by Godhand he focused on the tug, realizing it was coming from the north, where they had said the Gravekeeper had been taking out the Bladesingers. He almost felt sorry for the bastards, were it not for the fact that he would have been the singer's next target after the Liche had been disposed of. He was a little keener on staying alive, than letting his emotions or even this new found ‘pull’ get the best of him.

A hand idly plucked a dagger as he began to play with it, letting his hand play with it nimbly. The knife came to life as it began to dance and twirl in a lazy dance, all the while pondering what the hell was going on. Was it a knife? Was it a calling? He damn well didn't know. Finally he sighed before he looked at Godhand, "Any idea how much farther? Or should I get out and scout?"

[Godhand]

"Shhhhhh-ut up, you lazy ghoul. I'm getting a weird feeling."

The trip had been real quiet so far, which he appreciated. Back when he was alive all Dahlios did was moan and groan and bitch and whine about how he had been battered, violated by life's Unkind Forces. Getting killed had apparently done wonders for his disposition. Now he knew what you were supposed to do with all that stuff; keep it bottled up and away from your friends. Jesus, who wants to hear about how a guy's broad left him for his brother or something? They'd made it unto the northern woods with some good time, and Godhand had been all smiles by then.

But for the last couple of miles, something had been a little off. The mercenary couldn't say what, just...Something. The horses could feel it; they'd stopped their neighing and braying about two miles back. Not only that, but they seemed to get more and more hesitant the further along they advanced. It was starting to put the mobster on edge, and he actually considered sending the ghoul out to scout, but he didn't want to dismount just yet. The mercenary gripped his masterwork Liviol sheath, feeling the ornate grooves carved upon the Prevalida. That seemed to cool him down. He knew that no matter what, there was nothing out here capable of making it past his enchantment.

Finally they cleared the woods, but the scene that greeted them was nothing short of grizzly. The ground was positively riddled with Bladesinger cadavers. Shoulder to shoulder, Jesus; there was barely a patch of ground between them. Godhand's eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of their target, but all was quiet. Just then, a groan. Good lord, it was a zombie apocalypse! But just as the mobster was about to whip his horses into high gear and get them out of there, he realized that it hadn't been produced by the shambling undead. Rather, a lone Bladesinger agonizingly raised his arm to let them know he was still alive. Godhand's mouth went dry, and he turned to Seth before dismounting.

"Let's go see what the Hell."

[Dissinger]

As soon as the cadavers came into sight Seth was already in battle mode. His eyes scanned over the area, looking for hiding spots. The problem was that there were so many bodies, and not enough information. At least, until a lone arm rose up, slowly. Seth's eyes narrowed at it before he jumped off the cart. His steps were calm and cool as he walked forward, his eyes darting about. Something was amiss, you didn't just leave this many bodies lying about, even Seth knew that.

The tug in his chest seemed to whisper now, Come and get it, come and get it...

Now, he was used to hearing such enticing words, after all half of his hard won career had been listening to such things. However he knew better than to assume this was his soul trying to goad him into Hex Magic, that voice had been quiet since he had died, no, this was something far more sinister. As he stepped forward over the bodies, despite the scent of flesh and blood assaulting him, making him wish to take a moment to feed he narrowed his eyes before he stopped, "Gotcha..."

Godhand had been heading towards the still alive Bladesinger when Seth shouted, "Get the fuck back old man it’s a trap!"

Seth burst into a sprint as he rushed to protect the mercenary, before he heard the arcane words. He had read them, long ago, but it was an entirely different experience actually hearing them. As a bolt screamed out of the tree line Seth took the brunt of the blow, as he felt, better, surprisingly better. Looking down he saw a heart grow in his chest, before the bones of his sternum sealed up over it and closed. His eyes darted to where the bolt had come from before he saw the monstrosity that was the Gravekeeper.

It was almost as if Seth's twin had walked into the clearing, a broad shouldered man had stepped forward. One hand had been stretched forward in an attempt to cast the errant bolt of energy that had healed Seth. As the ghoul looked upon the Lich he saw the long duster, not a pocket to spare room, and the wide brimmed hat that seemed oddly natural amidst the chaos. The two of them were dressed similarly, though that’s where the similarities ended. Long white hair flowed over the man's shoulders, dirtied with blood and dirt from the obvious battle. His eyes were a solid black devoid of any life whatsoever. It was a look Seth had come to recognize in the mirror, the look of a killer.

Seth moved slowly towards the man as he finally saw what was tugging him towards the area. The coffin he carried, was held up almost as a shield, but held back, not blocking his body. However, many knives hung from the various handles of the coffin. Hanging from one of those handles, was an obsidian dagger that he recognized all too well, Malice. When Seth looked the man in the eyes the man smiled as he said, "Not one of the living are you boy?"

"Great observation oh master of the obvious..." Seth retorted.

"Your soul hasn't filled your cadaver yet, I can fix that boy," The man said pointing at Seth.

Seth looked back at Godhand before he said frankly, "This guy is almost like a used knife sales man. Doesn't know when to quit..."

[Godhand]

The mercenary had tiptoed through the cavaders, hissing whenever his foot landed on something particularly soft. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking back fondly to the bath he'd had that morning, only to nearly dive headfirst into a pile of bodies when Seth began to screech like a banshee. Godhand instantly drew his blade and turned to face the ghoul, only for the Lavinian to throw himself in the way of the Gravekeeper's attack. It was hex magic; the mobster could tell. Still, Seth had practically invented that shit. It wasn't any use against him. Godhand leapt from his position and landed near the Lavinian, both of them slowly advancing upon Xem'Zund's general. Edoras, as he believed the list named him, merely gave the pair a toothy smile, not unlike the one Godhand had given Seth when eating the turkey. Just then, he reached back and produced the upper torso of a Bladesinger. He'd been kept alive through necromancy, but he wasn't quite a zombie. He gave them a horrible look, like he was trying to scream, but his voicebox had been plucked out of his neck.

Opening the coffin with a flourish, the Gravedigger stuffed his struggling victim into the casket, much to Godhand's horror. He jokingly looked at his forearm, tapping it as if there was a watch there, then threw open the coffin's lid. What came out...There are no words. Godhand recognized it as the Bladesinger from earlier, but it looked like he'd been tortured for an eternity before being stitched back together and kicked out of whatever hell realm he'd been in. He was about Godhand's size, but every part of him below his neck was ashen and grey. His head was expressionless, staring blankly in front of itself. The mercenary gave his ghoulish friend a concerned look. They'd come into this expecting a two-to-one game, but Godhand could tell that thing wasn't going to go down easy.

"You handle the Gravekeeper. I'll take care of this...Fellow."

[Dissinger]

"Gladly," Seth said as he stepped towards the coffin wielding psycho. The toothy grin grew larger as the man observed him. It unnerved Seth, for it was the same look Darith would give him, the knowing smile, as if he knew something Seth didn't. Seth had spoiled the trap, hadn't he?

"Not living, not dead, where do you fit lost one? Are you a mere specter of yourself? I see the real you, impatient, reckless, powerful. Makes me wonder what made you so weak, pathetically so," The man said as he continued to observe the Lavinian. Seth chuckled at the words before the Gravekeeper tilted his head and asked, "What is so funny boy?"

"I'm not weak, you just got the wrong glimpse of me," Seth spat as he raced forward. The Gravekeeper knew what was to come and brought the coffin in front of him as Seth collided with it. The man cackled as he took comfort in his beloved casket continuing to protect him. Until he saw a hand reach around, fishing. He frowned until he saw it connect with the obsidian dagger.

"Get your hands off my coffin!" The Lich screeched. He then jerked it back as he saw a very angry, very hungry ghoul before him.

Seth's voice held a deathly tone to it, "Give me back my damn dagger."

"Boy, I'll make a deal with you, one that I'm sure you can't refuse," The Gravekeeper said before he reached behind him. Seth frowned before he jumped back, sliding in the blood soaked ground as he saw the spade of the Gravekeeper hit the ground right where he was. Seth meanwhile moved swiftly trying to get to the side of the Gravekeeper as he spoke, "Stop this nonsense, we're both dead, and my master would have a high position waiting for you. All you have to do is bend your knee. In return, I'll return what’s been taken from you; the magical dynamo I sense inside you can be restarted, even though your creator never intended it."

Seth made another run for the man only to be hit with the ornate coffin. The holy symbol collided with Seth's face before he went sailing through the air and slid across the ground. He almost immediately righted himself to his feet before he came to a halt the hat flying off as his hair formed a curtain in front of his face. Seth's features were taut, before with a grace he rushed at the man again, "You must not know what a Lavinian is, because I don't bow before anyone, dead or alive!"

The Coffin knocked him again, this time sending him sailing into a tree before the ghoul hit the ground with a grunt. Slowly rising he glowered at the Gravekeeper who seemed composed and further, still fresh. Seth's chest heaved even as the rote action of breathing seemed to be draining. The Gravekeeper smiled as he said, "Come now boy, you were once great, we only seek to restore you to your former glory. Is that so hard to believe?"

Seth drew both daggers in response, before he spoke tersely, "Everything has a price, and yours is too high Gravekeeper..." He then began to slowly move forward, knowing that rushing in would get him nowhere. Even if he had landed a blow, he was undead; Seth couldn't do any damage that the man wasn't already able to take. He had to wear him down, and set him up for a surprise he might never recover from.