Laidon, the Flesh Tickler

The old man that waited for them, didn't do anything malicious. He behaved well enough, and the odds were that he was very calculative. It explained his composure.

This specific tribe of necromancers strived by making 'deals', so surely, this old man didn't expect any less out of Bardeelus' visit. One didn't even have to be a pure necromancer, in order to be treated kindly by the inhabitants here. 

Any visitor would just need to be a dark mage, which itself wasn't a large requirement. Anyone who could find this special place on their own, deserved a few ounces of respect to say the least, but that wasn't all.

The air here could kill most mages, it filtered people, which made any confrontation all the more easier. This was a dark mage's natural habitat, so fear was utterly optional for them.

"Quite the souls you got there," Bardeelus said, but his compliment was like a back-handed slap. "Do you spank them?"