Voodoo, the Ambitious Necromancer
#4 of Slices of Life
A Slice of Life written for Zhira_The_Thief.
The Slice of Life is a commission experiment aimed at capturing a glimpse of someone's character in action. The idea is to see if a quality piece of writing can be made in a short length of time, and if someone would be amenable to paying for such a thing. They involve four prompts, ten minutes of writing, and five to ten additional minutes of finalization.
The prompts for this story were
Name: Voodoo
Species: Hyena
Descriptor: Ambitious, Power hungry, Necromancer
Setting: Wildcard - Artist gets to pick
Other: Sold her soul to a demon to attain her powers
Voodoo, the Ambitious Necromancer By Finn Panther
''I have a feeling that you don't entirely understand the gravity of your situation.''
Voodoo wasn't exactly known for her patience. In fact, she had none. But this wasn't exactly patience, now was it? This was more along the lines of... satire. Let the insignificant bug think he's in charge. After all, she did find it awfully cute when they tried to take control. That is, if she didn't feel so bad for them.
Oh, wait. She didn't feel bad at all.
''The gravity of MY situation, little dog? And who are you to tell me-'' ''I'm a hyena.'' ''You dare interrupt me, mortal?'' ''Yes, I do. And I. Am a hyena.''
''MORTAL, YOU WOULD DARE TO CHALLENGE ME!?''
She loved it when they got mad.
Voodoo's calm and collected face turned into a habitual snarl as she began to incant, and as she did the ground began to swell and her fur started to ripple with energy. A few words into the spell and the demon stopped his tirade, and just a few words more he began to truly understand the gravity of his situation.
The demon looked agape at the striped hyena and the two of them locked eyes. And in that gaze the demon noticed one thing more formidable than any others he had encountered. In those eyes he saw nothing. No light. No heart. And no soul. It was the look only of demonic forms - and only one such form could raise energies such as that.
''It- it cannot be.''
The demon didn't seem so full of himself any more, and instead of big, commanding words (although still pathetically hollow), his tone switched to that of fear. The tone of cowards - and the tone of the subservient. It was exactly where Voodoo wanted him.
''Yet it is, bitch.'' She spat the words as the dark energies around her continued to swell. ''What, you didn't expect a Soulless? Well look even deeper and tell me what you see.''
The demon gave no response save for fear, so Voodoo figured that she'd elicit a little bit more.
She strode to the demon, and although the demonic form stood taller than herself she used the powers of Hell to bind chains to his neck, pulling him down to her level. For effect she dabbed some of the powers of Hell onto her snarl, too. It sure scared the demon shitless - she liked that.
''LOOK AT ME!''
Voodoo spoke the words - not shouted - but emphasized by power greater than this scum could ever know they shattered him to the core of the soul that he no longer had.
''Look at me and tell me what you see, filth. Because I don't see a God. Damn. THING!''
With this Voodoo released her spell and crippled the beast. Its limbs tore off, its body became shattered and broken - and whatever demons had in place of souls, that, too, had shattered.
And now this, this was her favorite part.
''Now you listen to me, and you listen close. You tell Belthezaar that I do NOT bow down. Do you hear me? Not to him, not to anyone - never. In fact, why don't you send him a little message for me?''
The fear in his eyes told her that he wished desperately not to convey her message. But he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.
''Why don't you tell him... well, actually, why don't I just shoot the messenger myself?''
The demon screamed in torment as Voodoo brought down wrath more unholy than anything he had ever felt. It an entirely new level of Hell, even for him. The chains she had bound shattered along with the demon, freeing her hold on the spellwork and allowing her to concentrate on more pressing matters.
''Belthezaar does NOT send such useless insults to take care of ME! Who does he think I am!? Who do they ALL think I am!?''
Voodoo spat on the smoldering ashes as she walked among the graves. She moved closer toward the center, towards the mausoleum - closer towards her goal. Belthezaar thought that he could stop her? He thought that she could be controlled?
Well hell. She'd like to see him try.