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Rated: 13+ · Other · Action/Adventure · #1342641
the fourth chapter, dead people should stay dead
Chapter 4

The Dark is rising

Paris, 2005, 6:53, 21/9

Trying to find the Pyromancer.

We split up, Michelle and I, I went left and she went right, so to speak.
I end up near a graveyard, I head chanting, sounded magical, a Pyromancer is magical, right.

I enter the graveyard, I see a man, tall and lanky, thin, dressed in black, pants and shirt, long-sleeved, a velvet vest and thick black belt, with a skull belt buckle.
He turns to me as I land, I jumped over the gate, and laughs, a chilling laugh, a laugh that says, he knows me, and he would like nothing better than to see me dead.

“I am a necromancer,” he calls across the graves, deep voice carrying easily. “I have hunted you all my life, the last of the great hunters, they have died out, no-one believes in vampires any more.”

“Why do you hunt me, have I done you a personal grievance?” I call back, seriously.

“Yes, you have killed off all the hunters; you killed all the vampire hunters, I raised them, so to speak, I told them of your atrocities, I have known you since the Romans died,” he calls angrily.”

I laugh, and leap across the graves, “I had already been alive for thousands of years before the Romans, I had fun with the Romans, killing people for money, they loved me for it,” then the vampire hunters started, just after the Romans fell, why. I had done nothing to harm you.”

“Oh, but you had, you had done me a personal grievance, even then, you killed my brother, human though he was, you killed him, you bit his fingers off, and the crowd went wild, I was there, I cheered for him, and you killed him.”

“And I had great fun doing it,” I laugh and his face darkens, “you have to say, the crowds loved it,” I finish and wait for him to reply.

“Well you will pay, pay for my brother, and for my hunters, you will pay with your life.”

“You could never kill me,” I scoff.

“Oh, I will not kill you, my minions will; do you know what necromancer means?”

“Yes, someone who can raise the dead,” I wave my hand, “are you implying that you can rise the dead.”

“Not implying, per se, but I can and will, and the dead will kill you, I had planed on finding you after I had raised them, but you have found me,” he laughs and turns away.

He raises his arms and finishes his chanting, claps his hands and raises them above his head, keeping them straight; a stream of pure darkness follows his hands.

“Rise thee dead, come unto me, to obey me for eternity,” he claps again and the darkness, which he has obviously conjured, splits into ten parts and hurtles into the ten nearest graves.

There is an almighty bang and the earth on the ten graves splits to reveal the once dead, rising to the necromancer’s command.

“Just one question,” I say to the man, “can they be re-killed?”

“Yes, sadly, my power is not yet enough to keep them alive if their heart is destroyed,” he realises what he had just said and curses foully in Latin.

I laugh again and tip an imaginary hat to him, “thank you for this valuable piece on information, young man,” I jeer.

The zombies are now standing, watching with dead eyes, as I laugh at the man.

The necromancer curses again, and yells, “get him, get the vampire!”

The zombies advance, bones creaking, mouths gaping, the necromancer starts chanting again.

I laugh at the zombies, and leap over them onto the far wall of the cemetery.

The zombies turn slowly and start walking back towards me.

The necromancer claps again and more darkness hurtles into nearby graves, producing more zombies, as soon as he finishes, he just starts again, more and more zombies are raised, filling the graveyard and emptying the graves.

The necromancer curses again and looks at me, still crouched on the wall, still laughing at the zombies, “what is wrong, Gabriel, have you lost your nerve, are you too scared to fight my zombies?” he leers.

“No… no, I’m just... having trouble… breathing. It is… so funny!!!” I I comment, in between fits of laughter, he face darkens even more, I it darkens much more, it’ll turn black.

After a minute, I can breathe again, I sit on the wall a minute longer, and I then jump, hitting the ground with a thunk, just behind where the zombies have congregated.

I laugh and grab the nearest one, rip it’s head of and reach into the stump, I find the heart, grab it and church it into gooey mush.

I drop the body and reach through the next one, my hand coming out with the heart in it, I crush the heart and fling another zombie into the wall, it hits with a splat and falls to the ground. I laugh again and grab another, rip its rib cage open and fling the heart into a nearby wall.

I grab two more and throw one at the necromancer, who is standing, dumbfounded at the slaughter of his zombies.

I dart into the middle of the pack of zombies and draw my swords, which I carry everywhere.

I slice through the zombies, and still they move, soaked in blood and screaming with laughter, I watch as the zombies, although missing limbs and vital organs, continue
to converge on me.

Although I’ve taken out a lot already, there are still more, and more, and although I could take them all out, eventually, I would probably get hurt and the amount of time it would take would be phenomenal.

As I think this I hear the noise of fire, the noise of the Pyromancer, I turn to see four figures leap over the wall and land on the ground behind and on either side of me, fireballs already in their hands.

They all look exactly the same, same features, same hair, same clothes, black shirt, black pants and a black great coat with fire stitched into the bottom, fireballs hurtle towards the zombies, I sheath my swords and tear into the un-dead with my bare hands, well bloodied hands.

As I tear off limbs and squish hearts, I spot the necromancer, still standing, dumbfounded, staring as we massacre the zombies, which he had created, brought forth from the ground, relieved of death.

I leap over the last of the zombies and land next to the necromancer, he seems dazed, or in shock, I grab him by the neck, with my long fingered hand, he snaps out of his daze and looks around, then down, at the hand crushing his windpipe, “I should kill you, but I won’t because, I do not see the point’ though we will meet again, and I will not be merciful.”

And with that, I fling him over the wall, into the forest behind the graveyard.
I turn to the Pyromancers, one steps forward, he look older, his eyes sadder, than the rest.

“What the hell are you doing here, and how did you find me?”

i like zombies, and necromancers
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