((Note: I wrote this a year or two ago, but I wanted to share as a sample of my writing and creativity. I like making things up. Races, religions, cultures etc. Enjoy.))
“I am not the one you’re hunting, I’m here to help,” trying to convince a small group of hunters you’re there hunting the same thing they are, while tied to a chair isn’t very easy. I can’t say I blame them, I’m albino, my bicuspids are a bit sharper then is normal and on top of that, I can do things others can’t.
“Right, like we’re supposed to believe that? I just watched you level a room of demons, next you’re going to tell me you’re an angel doing the work of God.” He looked pissed off, deep blues peered at me from under brooding brows, his lips tight as his jaw clenched. His shaved head was inked with cultural insignia’s a few of them I recognized as what’s called fehedrahs, magic symbols meant for various things. These, they kept you from being possessed, and not just by demons, but other apparitional beings. He rubbed his tattoo’d head while he paced the small room. By the looks of it we were in a cottage or cabin high on the mountainside. The oil lanterns suggested there was no electricity, which was both good and bad. It was just he and I for the moment, but there were others. I knew because his right bicep was branded with a vek. A vek is an insignia, symbol or seal that represents a Hekaad which is a group of hunters. Some specialize in certain creatures, others are general hunters. This Hekaad looked like general hunters. Meaning anything causing trouble or killing people are fair game. Most general hunters entrap their vek in a circle, specialists tend to use a square, rectangle or other shape.
“Actually angels are as afraid of me as demons are, I can explain how I leveled the demons if you’re willing to listen, if you’re not, I wont waste my breath.” Truth be told I had the skill not to have to sit in the chair as I did.
“I’m a Nekcrosmantian”
“A Nekrosmantian, not to be confused with necromancer-“
“So you are one of the paranormal bastards!” He cleared the room and put a hand on each armrest just so he could get in my face as he spoke. The look of unadulterated hate was enough to turn my stomach. If I wasn’t so sure of myself, I might have doubted if I wasn’t one of those beings we hunt. He was about to say something else when the door opened. Three men slipped in, each of them sporting the same vek as him. I recognized one of their after shave’s; one of them was the one who took me down. Had me tied to the chair. “She’s a Nekrosmantian she says, she confessed it herself. So now can I kill her?” He asked.
“We don’t even know what will kill her” One of them added as he set down a tool box on the table in the room.
“No, you can’t kill her yet Watson. Back off.” Watson must have been the bald one who hated me for all the wrong reasons. The one who told him to back off was probably the least out-cast looking. And if I had to venture a guess, I’d say he was the head of this Hekaad. “Elmry, tell the kid to get in here, “ he added, speaking to the broad fellow who question what would kill me. “Bry, get her a glass of water would you?”
Bry was average height and build, but what stuck out the most for him was shaved head with thin mustache and a braided goatee of blond. He was attractive in a peculiar kind of way, and his left ear was pierced with little silver hoops all the way up. The man barking out all the orders grabbed a chair and walked my way, setting it in front of me before he took a seat.
I had time to detail him before the one they called ‘The Kid’ came in, lanky and young with a set of glasses a bit too thick to really be useful, or so was my take. The man who sat in front of me had sad tired blue eyes. His face was well angled and his lips full. His shoulders were broad, arms, chest and abdomen looked well toned by the way his shirt clung to him. He too had a buzzed head, probably a quarter of an inch of hair or less. He, also had a five o’clock shadow that added to his rough look, which I admit, outside of this situation, I might have been interested. Nothing like being tied to a chair and threatened with death to kill your mood. He was staring at me, probably assessing me the same as I was him. He looked unarmed, and for the most part, so was I. We both looked at The Kid as he neared, a leather bound book in his hand. He got about half way before he rethought and turned to get a chair of his own. When he finally took a seat next to the Boss, I noticed he’d kept his chair a bit further from me. The Kid also didn’t really look at me, he immediately opened the book and started flipping through its pages before stopping near the front.
“Necromancer,” He began, and I already started to shake my head.
“Why are you shaking your head?” The boss asked me. His voice was a solid baritone, the kind that’ll make women swoon, I was just glad he wasn’t yelling.
“I’m not a necromancer, necromancy is… the short end of the stick I carry.” I told him, trying to match his calm with my own, though it’s hard to be calm under circumstances like this. “I’m a Nekrosmantian.” I said again.
“Nekro,” The Kid repeated, “Dead, meaning Dead, and Mantia, is divination. Dead Divination?” He actually looked at me this time with eager eyes, eager to understand and to know if he was right.
“That’s the literal translation, yeah.” I watched him push his glasses up, even though they didn’t need to be pushed up. He flipped a few pages and then pointed as he looked to The Boss. I couldn’t see what was written in the book, but what ever it was had them both looking at me curiously. “Care to share?” I asked.
“There’s mention of a Nekrosmantian here, as the end all. Says they’re killed the moment they show signs of what they are.” I knew the stories, the legends, the truth. I knew what the book of theirs didn’t say. His face expressed his desire for answers, and they were both quiet enough I took it as a cue to explain myself.
“Usually, we are. And if we’re not killed, we tend to kill ourselves. Being a Nekrosmantian sucks. I’m guessing it doesn’t say too much in there though. Maybe mentions how all the creatures that go bump in the night don’t want to tangle with the likes of my kind? I bet there’s a page missing too, one that might have explained more.” As soon as I said it The Kid was flipping the pages looking at the page numbers. When he looked at The Boss then back to me I knew I was right. I didn’t give them time to ask the question before I answered it. “ The page was torn out in 1768 by a Donovan Vegot Melchess who then burned it.”
“Yeah, Melchess was a keeper of this book, a contributor to it’s contents,” The Kid said a bit excitedly as he opened the back cover of the book and pointed to the signature.
“The keeper of the books signs their name?” I asked.
“Yeah, as a show of authentication I suppose.”
“Huh.. Didn’t know that.”
“You’re telling me you’re two-hundred and forty years old?” The Boss asked.
“No, I’m only twenty-eight, but Nekrosmantians are born with the genetic memory of their bloodline.”
“You remember the page being torn out but you don’t remember the signatures?” He sounded skeptic, not that I blamed him.
“Not my memory, this memory recall thing isn’t an exact science. Some memories come to me and some don’t. Seeing the book made me remember the page being torn out.”
“Do you remember why he tore it out and burned it?”
“To show his loyalty, that he’d not hunt my ancestor, and to try and prevent anyone else from hunting us. We have a hard enough time surviving ourselves.”
“Can you fill in the blanks?” The Kid asked.
“Only if you swear on the pain of death not to write it down.”
“Close the book Kid.” The Boss said without taking his eyes off me. The young kid who couldn’t have been more then seventeen, did as he was told. He closed the book and placed both hands over it in a semi-protective manner. He leaned forward and stared at me like I was something other then human. Okay, so I kind of am, but it still makes me uncomfortable when people look at me like that.
“Are all Nekrosmantians albino?” He asked, side glancing the Boss as if to apologize for speaking out of turn.
“No, that was luck of the draw.” I replied.
“So you leveled a room of Demons and you get divinations from the dead?” The Boss asked, prompting me to explain myself, and to fill in the blanks about what I was.
“I can do what a necromancer can do, I can raise the dead without even trying. But a Nekrosmantians real power is in the apparitional world. Spirits, souls, ghosts, phantoms, demons and even angels. Aerial beings of every nature are susceptible to us. What you guys saw, the shock wave, I pulled the energy from the demons themselves and threw it back at them. When they were down, it gave me time to pull their essence and send it back to hell, one at a time. Well, until you guys showed up. There’s infinite energy and power to be obtained. That’s why we’re feared, if the Nekrosmantian is strong enough to survive ourselves, then we have the potential to harness the power and use it. It’s complicated and frankly we don’t have time for the whole lesson, but yeah. Our potential power makes us a target. Me a target. As for Divinations, seeing the future, that’s a lot like the memory recall. Easier said then done. And the only way to get a divination is to link up with a spirit, be it a ghost or apparition of one kind or another. The few times I’ve been hit with a Divination it comes in a jumbled mess of sensory things. Pictures, smells, sounds…” I shook my head, just thinking about it was enough to make my head hurt. I’m not sure if The Boss believed me, but the Kid looked fascinated, that was a little creepy.
“So why’d you come here?”
“To help. The demons that have been fighting against your Hekaad aren’t your real problem. There’s a Phantom who’s manipulating the leader of your demon pack who’s sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“No, Ghosts are like… a four on the rector scale of apparitional beings. A Phantom? We’re talking eight to ten. Not only can they not be killed by any physical weapons, but they can possess both bodied beings and other apparitions. Their powers range vastly from controlling water, electricity, earth and so on. A lot of God mythology comes from Phantoms with God complexes.” I explained. The Boss sat back in his chair and considered what I said. He looked over his shoulder to Watson who was standing near the table with his arms crossed. I watched him shrug his shoulders, clearly upset the leader of his Hekaad was even considering to let me go.
“You can kill this Phantom?” He asked.
“Not so much kill… as make obsolete.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Watson, cut her loose and get her some clothes. Let’s go Kid.” He stood up with a motion for the Kid to follow. Up until then I had totally forgotten they’d taken almost all of my clothes. I guess they wanted to be sure I wouldn’t run. I looked down at myself and recalled the fresh bruises I’d acquired in my fight not to be taken in the first place. Lets just say if I wasn’t a Nekrosmantian, I wouldn’t be a hunter at all.