Azazel walked through the many rows of graves, his head bowed as if in respect for those who had been buried to fill the Gravedigger's quota. The black hood that covered his head obscured the soft cyan glow of his eyes, a clear indication of what he was. Undead, not alive, not completely dead, stuck in between both worlds. The constant hunger and bone chilling cold that came with it had become numb feelings to him over the decades. The Dark Summoner-knight walked slowly, he was drawn here by a sense of purpose, as though he had no choice but to come here. At first he attempted to resist the urge to come to the graveyard to seek out a ferryman of the Shadow Isles, but it had been in vain, he always arrived at the gates no matter where he went, no matter which way he tried to turn... He would always arrive here.
Dark black robes hung about Azazel's form, slight wispy shadows tendrils of black smoke rose from them as he moved leaving a thin trail behind him as though his body was leaving a slight shadow in the air itself, he could hear it now as he moved to where he was drawn, the sound of a steady digging...
Reluctantly Azazel approached, a feeling inside him knew that the ferryman would be expecting him...
The gravedigger hadn't been digging graves as he usually would. He had been pacing around the graveyard for almost a week, feeling that he had something important to do. He kept thinking he had forgotten something. He had his shovel, he had been digging the graves, he had finished the graves that had been left open.
Yet he couldn't figure out what it was he had forgotten, normally he wasn't one to forget things. He eventually felt like he was going to lose his mind. He moved around the graveyard lap after lap until he figured out what it was. He was expecting someone. A certain undead was going to rise through their ranks. After he figured it out he was able to return to his duty, to dig the graves of the dead whilst he waited. Waiting for the undead summoner to appear in his graveyard.
The sound of someone walking in his graveyard caught his attention. He stopped the digging and moved away from the grave. "You took your time, Summoner. I have been expecting you, and to be honest, I expected you to arrive last week."
Azazel's eyes rested upon the Gravedigger, the sense of unease leaving his body as he did so. The summoner closed his eyes trying to make sense of what had happened, "I was drawn here... No mater how hard I tried to avoid this place, I returned to the gates no matter which way I walked." The Summoner's cold emotionless voice sliced through the still dank air of the graveyard like cold steel, "This place..." Azazel turned his head to sweep his gaze across the graves, "You." He stated as he looked back to Yorick, "I am confused."
The gravedigger looked at the summoner before him. So this was the one that would move through their ranks. He blinked and moved a bit closer to Azazel "Do you know what I am besides a gravedigger?" He asked and put the shovel into the ground. Resting his hands on the hilt he looked at the being in front of him and waited for him to answer.
Yorick knew what rank he would ascend to, it was just a matter of question if he knew it too. If he knew what Yorick was capable of that is.
"A ferryman." Azazel stated without thinking, the thought itself had just seeped into his mind without him realizing it, somehow, just as Azazel had been compelled to come here, had also known what Yorick was. What it meant, was another matter entirely. The dark summoner frowned while he watched Yorick cautiously, "What does that mean for me, gravedigger?" The cyan glowing eyes seemed to almost stare through Yorick as he leaned on his shovel, a look that would strike fear into most mortals, the effect would no doubt be lost on one such as yorick however as he was more than capable of destroying Azazel at this point.
The Gravedigger nodded, he was one of the few ferrymen on the Shadow Isles, and he happened to be the strongest one of them as well. To his knowledge, he was the only one besides the Ruined King that could raise someone to Reaper Level. His eyes met with the dark summoner, had Yorick been alive he would have been scared into insanity. The glowing Cyan eyes did little to nothing against Yorick, during his time on the isles he had seen things that would scare someone to death.
He grasped the shovel with his right hand and pulled it out of the wet ground, looking down at it before raising his head and looking at Azazel once again. "Yes, I'm one of the few ferrymen here on the Isles. I'm the only one that can make you a reaper." He explained calmly, gripping his shovel slightly harder, "That is why you have come here, is it not?"
Azazel raised his chin slightly as he watched Yorick, a skeptical look in his eyes, "I came here because no matter where I went, I would always find myself back at those gates." The dark summoner raised a pale hand, the skin upon the flesh looked as though it had never seen daylight, so pale and deprived of life that he would have been mistaken for no more than a decaying corpse had he simply closed his eyes and laid down. Azazel lowered his hand after studying it, to become a Reaper? He had heard of that, a level on par with those the Ruined King called his generals. For what reason would Azazel have been chosen? For his part in the destruction of his old home-city?
Yorick chuckled loudly, "You came here because you wanted to come here, you might not know it. But your soul, or what's left of it wants it." His shovel rested against the ground again, but his hand still holding firmly around it.
A ghoul came flying in and looked at the two, the Gravedigger looked at it and it flew away into the forest again, "I know of your participation in the now ruined city of Urtistan. Maybe the Ruined King decided to reward you for your betrayal." He knew about Urtistan's fall and he knew more than people expected him to know.
Anger crossed Azazel's face, "My betrayal?" He questioned, "They--" he cut himself off, an emotionless void expression settling upon his features almost instantly, "If that is his will, then I will accept ascension." Azazel looked around the graves once more, "And how does this work?" Azazel had never before even heard of someone being raised to the ranks of reaper, he just knew that reapers existed, not how or why they were created.
Yorick smirked at the sudden anger that appeared across Azazel's face. He listened to the Dark Summoner's question, he knew how it worked. The process of rising through the ranks usually went through death and resurrection. He raised his shovel and spun it around in his hands, "Like this." he said and moved a bit closer to the summoner. He held the shovel with both hands and swung it, aiming for the head.
Decades of constant digging and shuffling dirt had made the Gravedigger quite strong, and thus made his swing with the shovel strong enough to kill almost anyone with one hit. His shovel would hit the side of Azazel head with force enough to break his neck.
Azazel took a single step back, his eyes widening as they saw the blurred movement of the shovel as it was swung with brutal force toward his face. Metal met with flesh, the skin upon Azazel's cheek split open at once, the impact easily shattering the teeth in his mouth causing a spray of black blood to erupt from his lips. Yorick's raw strength alone gave the swing more than enough momentum to cause a sick cracking sound to be heard as the Dark Summoner's skull was effectively splintered, his neck snapping loudly while his head twisted sharply. The body dropped and hit the cold damp earth with a soft thud, the nerves in the now broken body causing it's right arm to tense before relaxing and becoming still.
Blood slowly leaked from the body into the soil in which he lay, the black robes that had been wrapped around his body soaking up what it could. The cyan glow in his eyes dulled and then faded before being snuffed out completely. With that, Azazel had died once again.
The gravedigger looked down on the body as it hit the ground, the ghoul that had hurried off earlier returned and looked at Yorick with hunger in his eyes, it begged to feast on the body but Yorick waved it away. Yorick moved up to the body and watched as the soul moved out from it's host, only to be grabbed by Yorick and put in his lantern for temporary storage.
He grabbed Azazel's dead legs and dragged him away from the grave and to a more open space in the graveyard, where there was fewer graves. He put down the shovel into the ground and opened the lantern again. The soul of Azazel emerged once again and rested in his palm where it was imbued with more powerful necromancy and the strength of a reaper. He lowered his hand and dropped the soul on Azazel's chest, watching as it slowly returned to him.
He placed his hand upon Azazel's face and loud cracks could be heard as Azazel's skull was reformed to it's prior state and healing the damage done by Yorick's shovel.
"Rise again, summoner." Yorick said and poured dark magic into the body, awakening it and the soul. He took a step back as the soul fully sank into the body of the reaper laying in front of him and waited for him to wake up from his temporary... sleep.
While Azazel's soul was taken from his body he felt nothing physical, no pain, no pleasure, no cold nor heat. Just emptiness, only his thoughts for company, but even they seemed just barely out of reach. He felt the presence of the other souls within the lantern, those that were there against their will and those that simply waited for their time to become something more than what they were in life. Slowly, he regained his ability to grasp the thoughts and make them into something more coherent.
He was dead? His essence clearly locked away somewhere for now, what had he done wrong? Had he done anything? or was this just another betrayal. Yorick finding some sick pleasure in ending the life of someone just for the fun of it.
That is, until he felt something fueling him, making him feel... More. Once again his thoughts began to tumble from his mind, becoming incoherent before essentially blacking out.
Azazel's black robes would begin to quiver, black smoke rolling from his form across the dank earth of the graveyard once his soul had sunk back in. Hands twitched and spasmed as the nerves that had been damaged reconstructed themselves. Slowly, the robes looked to unfurled, spreading outward revealing the pale toned chest of the summoner, turning clear as looking like great clear bat wings. His lower half still covered by the robes twitched as he began to awaken. His eyes no longer glowed with cyan energy, but were pitch black, a well of empty nothingness that looked to drink in all they saw. It was impossible to tell where he looked, but the cold empty stare would cause even Yorick some discomfort to look upon.
Azazel's voice sounded in confusion, "What have you done to me..." Slowly the undead reaper rose, a shaky hand moving to clutch at his own head as if to feel where the shovel had connected with his face. The chilling cold of his own touch making him recoil slightly.
Yorick waited patiently for the now reaper level undead to wake up from his temporary rest. Once the body began shaking he knew his awakening would be imminent, and soon enough the body rose from the ground. He looked at his creation as it second after second woke up.
He looked into the pitch black eyes of the summoner and felt a brief shiver run down his spine,"Hm... Might have given him a bit more power than she should have received." the Gravedigger thought and scanned Azazel. "I gave you the power of a reaper. You better use your new powers well, and not make me regret helping you." The calm voice of the Gravedigger rang out, he had waited just a moment too long, giving Azazel slightly more power than he had intended to give him at first. But now it was too late to fix that.
Yorick pulled out the shovel from the ground and looked once again at the Summoner, "He's powerful, I have to keep an eye on him whenever I can..." he thought again. "Do you have any questions, Azazel, before I leave you?"
Azazel stood, the black eyes simply staring at the gravekeeper in silence. The unsettling gaze almost looked to stare right through the Gravekeeper, Azazel's lips curled into a subtle smirk as he felt the surge of power flowing through his form, "I think..." he said quietly raising his hand and closing it into a fist, "This will do quiet nicely..." A dark chuckle escaped his lips. Without warning the smile would vanish and his hand would drop to his side, his pitch black eyes never once leaving Yorick, "Questions? I have many, many questions." his voice held the cold tone from earlier, "Why?"
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