Starlight Necromancer

Foster leaned against the edge of a table, looking at the man standing in front of him. It was the Hogmir, the boss of this small organization.

"Are you working for, or with any other organizations?" Foster asked, and the Hogmir shook his head immediately, "No, we don't. We work alone."

"What're your goals?"

"..." The Hogmir stayed silent for a while, before finally speaking when Foster's glare didn't disappear, "We just want to live. I used to be an adventurer, but I couldn't continue work. I was thrown out, I was cast away. I became useless in this town. And then, when I found myself down here... I started doing what I had to do. I gathered people around me, and... things got out of hand."

With a slight sigh, Foster closed his eyes for a few moments, "What's your name?"

The Hogmir looked back at the man standing in front of him, and started pacing around the room, "It's Himkijl. I doubt you'll tell me yours, though."

"...Call me Odin." Foster said bluntly. It was his middle name, and he would sometimes go by it if he didn't want to reveal his first or last name. He barely had any records of his existence back then in the first place, so someone being able to find a connection to him through just his last name was very unlikely. It became a hard-to-break habit, not that there was much of a reason to break it in the first place.

"I've got experience in this business. For certain reasons, the organization I used to work for... disbanded. Now, I'm trying to get a footing in this city. You get where I'm going with this?" Foster asked, and Himkijl slightly glared back, "You want to work with us?"

"No. I want you to work with me. And be careful with your words, or 'with' changes to 'for'." Foster replied immediately, "Also, before you make up your mind, I'm not asking for ridiculous things. I'm going to help you be more... well, ethical, to an extent, while you help me out in different ways. Through information, contacts, things like that."

"We're criminals, what do you mean with 'ethical'?" The Hogmir scoffed, as Foster quickly replied, "Easy. You protect the people from trouble. Bring order into the crime that's happening around here, and you do it with a strict code. All the whilst you stay in the background. Run things from behind the scenes."

Himkijl shook his head, "Right, because that's as easy as you make it sound."

"It's not. It's absolutely not. But I'll be helping you out. We're starting in a simple way. You sort out everyone that you can't trust, everyone that acts against you and your orders, or will cause trouble with the new form that this group will take. You will do that with any excuse you need to come up with. Push all of the blame on me if you want, just get it done." Foster said, "Oh, and before that. You're going to give me anything and everything that you stole from Zhaine's shop as well. In the future, when you want to contact me, you're going to leave a message with Zhaine himself. And to make it clear, I mean you, and exclusively you. Nobody else is to set a foot near that place without my permission. Understood?"

Walking up closer to Foster, Himkijl locked eyes with him, "You keep talking like we're already working with you."

"Oh, you are. Both of us know that." Foster said with a smirk underh is mask, walking past the Hogmir, placing his hand on his shoulder as he did. In the process, he saw something, though.

"Your arms. What happened to them?" He asked immediately, and Himkijl let out a deep sigh. Jerking his shoulders, he pushed the jacket off of them, showing Foster the reason why he was wearing the jacket like this in the first place.

His right hand was completely petrified. Quite literally so. It was made of rock, with clear, sharp edges visible through his sleeve up to his upper arm. His other hand, turned into a fist, was the same, but it seemed like the petrification didn't run as far up that arm.

"What'd it look like?" Himkijl asked, and Foster simply stared at him, "Would I ask if I knew?"

"Seriously, kid? It's magic feedback. I used to be a Geomancer. It just builds up over some time, and then when a spell of mine went out of control, this happened." Himkijl said, "I'll give you a tip, be careful with magic."

"...Thanks. I'll remember that." Foster replied, as he walked out the door of the room that him and Himkijl had been in. He walked past the members of this organization, all glaring at him intensely. When he reached Kir, Foster stopped for a moment, "No hard feelings, eh? Don't worry, it's a clean break. Should heal nicely." He said quickly, patting the Orc on the shoulder as he made his way to the warehouse's entrance. There, he waited for another little while, until a few goons brought over some bags, filled with a bunch of items and some money that had apparently been stolen from Zhaine's place. Throwing said bags over his shoulder, Foster made his way back through the alleyway, soon reaching the main street. In front of Zhaine's store, a bunch of wood had piled up from the broken shelves being disposed. To Foster's pleasant surprise, he could see one of the five kids from earlier currently bringing some of said wood outside.

"So you did choose to come here, huh?" Foster asked with a smile, before he heard a yell from inside, "Yeah they did, and they returned my money that they were apparently given by you, ya fuckin' bastard!" Zhaine yelled.

"You did? Well, I left it with you kids just in case you chose not to come here, but even then, I'm surprised you gave it up like that. Great." Foster said with a smile, as he stepped into the store. It was still messy as hell, but at least it was a lot more orderly than before. He carefully placed the bags down on the ground, and turned toward the group of people inside the room.

"Oh, Kyla. You're here. Perfect." He said, finally taking off his mask with a deep sigh, "I think I need your help as well."

"Holy- What happened to you?!" She yelled out, quickly rushing up to Foster. She was seeing the dried-up blood all over his face, and she was even more surprised when he took off his top and showed the bruises and small cuts all over his body. His Gi could repair itself, but some cuts and stabs still got through it to injure his skin.

"Didn't you say you'd take care of it, and not to worry?" Lynol asked, looking at Foster with an annoyed, wry smile.

"Oh please, this is nothing. But given the opportunity of being healed, I'd rather take that." Foster pointed out, as he turned to see the kids from earlier staring at him confused, "You... you really... got everything back from them?" One of them, the kid who Fsoter punched in the face, asked. He simply shrugged in response, "Of course I did. It was easy. Well, except that one guy. Kir was his name. A huge dude, an Orc or something. I mean, I still beat him up pretty easily, but it was a lot more fun, at least."

"Hold up, you beat Kir?!" The other boy that had attacked Foster asked, "No way you did! Stop lying!"

Foster scoffed in response, while Kyla was annoyedly healing the most worrisome wounds, "Believe it or not, but I did it. Now I don't want to brag, but- Fucking shit, Kyla, that hurts!" He yelled out, pulling his arm away.

The cleric glared at him intensely, pushing down on the bruise even harder, "I know, it's supposed to. Damned idiot."