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Necrovalley was never an enjoyable, barren, cold and deathly place; not even for Mor'laz. However, he didn't enjoy any other place. He felt the cold air brushing passed his exposed flesh, it didn't make him cover himself over it only acted as a painful reminder of the place he called home. Now and again you would be lucky to feel the warm breeze coming from the east, from Hell's Gate.

Mor'laz was staring over the cliffs and onto the floating Ziggurat. It was one of many in Necrovalley, siphoning life energy in order to bring back the lifeless bodies, though most of the time any necromancer's summons were sluggish, stupid or falling apart before they can carry out an order properly. The sudden thud and roll however, the sound of skin and armour tearing across the sharp and jagged ground made him scour and arch a brow as he turned round. It was yet another wasted victim of Occulas, he imagined. Many a time had Mor'laz seen the disposed bodies of those been rejected and defeated. IT had become entertainment for him most days. Crossing his arms his laborious tone asked the stranger " Did you think you would get somewhere?" as he rolled his eyes.

The necromancer was equally matched by somebody with an equal attitude it would seem. As the Scarred male replied he could sense a slight tone of accomplishment as he said that he did indeed 'get somewhere'. And that even made Mor'laz snicker within his mind for the briefest of moments. As the man stood up to equal heigh and tucked away his physique the pale Mor'laz stared on. He then proceeded to hold up his shackled that were obviously from the Injustira Syndicate. He even went as far as to ask Mor'laz to remove them.

Whilst the cliffs behind him rumbled with death, he stared forwards with crossed arms into the eyes of the fiery man, he could feel his stare, like he was peering into his soul. But Mor'laz was having none of it, he wasn't sure if it was a mere feeling, or if it were a dark sorcery that many use around these parts.

He surprised him, he knew his name at least. So he was dabbling in dark arts that intrude the mind, how offensive. At first Mor'laz didn't reply, instead he paused for thought.

"i'd rather let you walk as a living reminder to the rest of the people here that have failed." he said. "Before i help a man, brother by blood or not, i request a name. Or shall i just invade your body and reap it from your bones?" he asked, with a monotone voice.

All of a sudden the male before him had a change of tone. Mor'laz wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or was simply confused, or was just trying to get on Mor'laz's good side. Mor'laz was a necromancer, he roamed the Necrovalley just as many of the other necromancers did. He was more quiet than the rest though and hated plotting with them. All the time they would bicker, make the next big plan to release the dead and finally take Occulas. They were fools, clouded by their cults and ideologies.

He did finally give a name though, and with a sigh he leaned forwards to get a better look at the binding left behind by the syndicate. After inspecting them closely he stood back again and crossed his arms. "I'm surprised the spell didn't wear off from this distance. I suppose you got yourself in quite a bit of trouble...". The necromancer then looked around for something festering, for something he could quickly kill and use as sacrificial blood to break the bindings on Kole.

There was one, a creature with a wide jaw and glowing orange eyes, it has scrawny legs and a wide flat body camouflaged like the stone here. Grabbing a skull from his waist he rolled it over towards the creature. When it finally took interest, Mor'laz sacrificed the skull to summon skeletal hands from the ground that grabbed its limbs and held it tight against the ground. Pulling a sacrificial dagger, Mor'laz walked over and stabbed it firmly through the head as black blood oozed out and stained the simple dagger, it had black elather on the handle and a skull hilt. He then flipped the creature over onto its back and etched some unholy symbols on its stomach with the blade.

He then stood back up and faced Kole and said "Hold out your hand". He was then holding up the black blood stained dagger, but the blood seemed to quickly absorb into the blade with some sort of unholy magic. "You're lucky i'm bored today" he then added, asking him another question as he prepared to rid Kole of the bindings "everyone has a reason for going to the mainland. What was yours?"

Holding the dagger point down above Kole's binding on one of his arms, Mor'laz placed his spare hand on the tip of the handle and use it to thrust the dagger down. Mor'laz didn't look like he was focusing much, but he was staring at the dagger as the very tip grazed the surface of Kole's skin when it passed through and destroyed the bindings kept on his body. Twisting the place with a sudden jerk he pulled it away.

"You could not give me what i want" he said, seemingly with a tone like he simply couldn't be bothered with the conversation. He was watching what he was doing as he cleaned and put away the dagger as he spoke. "But" he said, looking up "this does make you in debt for me" he sniggered just then. "Your blood lies now within my possession" he gestured towards his dagger. necromancers were damned, they dabbled in the most cunning magics of the Scarred. Whilst many were simply warlocks, fire breathers and so on hoping to wreak destruction, the Necromancers were masters of balance, of sacrifice, of curses and death. This time, he had lured Kole into a trap.

"I can trust you will be available when i require you" he then threatened, his snigger turning into closed lips and a serious glare. Necromancers like Mor'laz equally as powerful as people like Kole. But in this case, Mor'laz had secured an ally, whether he liked it or not. The small slivers of blood now within Mor'laz's dagger from Kole's wrist could be used for many, many things.

((hope you don't mind this, if its a problem it can be changed! razz ))

Watching as the glowing angelic shackles fell to the floor, Mor'laz almost had to avoid looking at them directly, the light was too pure for his mind. When looked back up, Kole was getting gritty with him. As honourable and soldier-like as he sounded, he certainly had that Scarred flame within him. Mor'laz didn't reply until he meant dying for the debt. It made him snicker and think about death for a moment, he said "dying, is sometimes unavoidable". As for leading the way, he said "If your now going to follow me around the towers and decrepit graves, don't think i won't use you for experiments." he then sighed before saying "I've no use for you but that for now". HE showed no interest in Kole, even still. Mor'laz was as cold and uncaring as a dead, wet tree during autumn.

Kole wasn't going to be a puppet for his tricks any longer, what a shame. "A waste, it will always be" he said quietly to himself as he watched Kole begin to walk away. He then went on to explain some odd thing about demons not bleeding. Mor'laz raised a brow, what a strange and very opinionated comment. By his side he then felt a warm, no, hot sensation growing against his leg. A quick check of his dagger, just the top of it from it's sheath he was about to tell that Kole had done something to it. Mor'laz remained un-impressed and without any sort of reaction. Dropping the dagger back into the sheath he tried to ignore the heat, it was a contrast to the cold and dank atmosphere of Necrovalley. "There are ways to make you bleed" Mor'laz said, adding "i'm pretty sure that's what the Order used to say to our ancestors" he looked up at Kole. Waiting for a response.

A curse, that certainly is interesting to Mor'laz, nothing like unknown magic to discover. It was most certainly the magi side of him thirsting for knowledge. Mor'laz stared at him, doing his best not to show any kind of interest. When the wind picked up and swept through his snow white hair, Mor'laz watched Kole's gaze as it diverted between himself and the surrounding, it was like he was taking a sudden into in the ziggurat behind Mor'laz.

But the next sentence really did intrigue him, it was probably some old cult superstition that the guy had. But knowing a bit more could always be interesting. "Who is Almualim? Hmm?" he asked, his head tilting slightly as if to show he was expecting Kole to reply. "Something that we can bring back from the dead?"