When our…art first came to America people first thought it was a miracle. As the ages passed it soon became thought of as witchcraft the devils magics. During the age of Voodoo is was also considered a form of this. But in this modern age our art is far more complex. Some use our art as a form of income..be it helping the police or giving people a final meeting with those passed on. But these are the false bearers of our gift…it is far more than just simple tricks and bringing people back from the dead. Oh yes Necromancy has many forms this is the story of my gifts…the gifts of one who is truely adept in the ways of death and his dark coils…

Jochame Forester sat with his head resting against another random cool bartop. His long thick coat drapped about his shoulders, his form covered in a very pricey very rich looking suit. Not at all suprising for one who gave “legal council” to people…if you could call his cilents people. Half the time he ended up defending something no one else would something the common man called a monster. Vampires, werewolfs oh my but this was pretty typical and it made him an honest and rich man. Far better this than selling out his gift like the cheap whores who used their power to amuse others. He would lift his head slowly readjusting his glasses as he ran his left hand though his brown hair. His cilent said they’d be here at midnight and already he had a clue they’d be a fanger….

At midnight she came sauntering in pale skin beautiful by any normal mans standards. A body belonging to a goddess and pale red hair that seemed to light up the room like a burning flame but all Jochame saw was a corpse. He locked eyes with her and could already feel her trying to roll his mind obviously trying to gain controll. He would smirk as she moved into the stool next to him. “You must be Heidi Vandcort..” The vampiress nodded her gaze locked with his as she pushed her power onto him…to bad for her he’d have none of the bull shit.

He would moved his left hand under his coat pricking his finger on a small ceremonal dagger he kept on him feeling his lifes blood trickle down the blade. He could see the vampire could smell the blood in the air but was still to distracted by why her power’s didn’t seem to work. He would move his hand to the bartop drawing out in crimson the sign of his god…the universal truth the one thing no one escaped. He called upon death. He would slowly move his hand to touch upon her bare arm and smirked watching her lips move though he couldn’t hear a thing she said. He was in the thralls of power now in the realm of death. He would lean close to her playing on her powers before silently whispering one word. “Burn…”

She stayed seated at the bar a moment her hands suddenly itching against her agitated skin…it suddenly felt so hot. It felt as though she…was burning. Her eyes widened as she began ripping at her skin her mouth opening in a scream as she pushed away falling to the floor and squirming around in aboslute agony. Blood began to come up where her nails raked at her skin. “OH GOD IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP!!!” Jochame was quite entertained as he watched her tearing her skin and clothes to ribbons for a moment but he figuered he wouldn’t get paid if he let her kill herself…He would wipe the blood from the bar and everything seemed to stop suddenly. The woman remained on the floor panting heavily as her wounds began to seal slowly but surely. Jochame would smirk down at her as he lifted up his beer in a mock salute. “Now if your done with your little pissing contest of power maybe we can get down to business…though if you want to keep up I”ll gladly make your rib cage close down against your unbeating heart..” Heidi would stare up at the man she greatly under estamated panic still etched on her face. “W-w-w-what ARE YOU!?” Jochame would smirk slowly as he took a swig from his beer setting it once more upon the bartop. “Someone you don’t want to reckon with…”