#chief makube

[laski-and-sage]

Makube, showing a pic of his younger self: That was me 50 years ago!

Integra: Yeah, no. More like 50 reincarnations before-

[cocolacola]

scary parallels

[that-irishman-fan]

Here's my shitty Chief Makube, because he's one of my favorite Hellsing characters and my fictional husband.

Merry Christmas everyone! All my love to all those who celebrate this day!

[laskume-dragon]

I was bored and inspired by this

[trashymammalishere]

Whoo! My wife requested this :)

@dounutcheek-blog

[xthebirdofhermesx]

Hellsing: The Return

Y’all ready for some FanFiction? ^_^ This is my take on Continuing Hellsing Ultimate that I’ve recently gotten posted, and thought I’d share here too. MATURE CONTENT FOLKS. There’s violence, strong language, smut, and gore cause... well Hellsing. No warnings beyond that currently (no sexual violence or anything like that), so have at thee if ya like. All Chapters compiled here, but I’ll be posting inline for anyone who just tumblrz.

You must make Water of the Earth, and Earth of the Air, and Air of the Fire, and Fire of the Earth. The Black Sea. The Black Luna. The Black Sol. Here is the last of the White Stone and the beginning of the Red.  ~Opening of The Ripley Scroll

30 years after the Millennium incident in London, Hellsing Organization is asked to investigate a sensitive matter by an unexpected source. What is uncovered forever changes the course of the future and the Legacy of the Hellsing family.

Chapter 1 - The White Stone

In the sea without lees Standeth the bird of Hermes Eating his wings variable And maketh himself yet full stable When all his feathers be from him gone He standeth still here as a stone Here is now both white and red And all so the stone to quicken the dead All and some without fable Both hard and soft and malleable Understand now well and right And thank you God of this sight The bird of Hermes is my name eating my wings to make me tame.

It was as if no time had passed.

Sitting on the same side of the bed he always had, watching the rise and fall of her breathing as she slept, the vampire king smiled to himself. Her hair was lighter, peppered with white, and she abhorred the wrinkles and lines of age on her face, but to him she was more beautiful than ever. She was human, and had aged - a natural magic he would never see.

It had taken thirty years for him to regain himself. Thirty long years for him to kill all the lives within him, save one. One that now allowed him to be everywhere and nowhere at once, one life that granted him omnipresence and would ensure his survival… and that of his little coven.

Of course he would never call them that aloud. Not that he thought Seras would mind much - it was hard enough keeping her at bay right now. He could feel her excitement and joy at having him back vibrating at the edge of his attention even now. That Captain Bernadotte was still around so actively surprised him little, but not as much as he’d have predicted. Of course he’d become Seras’s shadow. The man had been amusing at best in life, but had transcended the limitations of his mortal form into something far more interesting and entertaining. A security barrier for the entire manor. It was impressive.

And yet it was Integra that intrigued him the most. She was still herself - that core of ice, steel, and pride she’d had since she was a girl had not dulled in his absence. To his dismay and perhaps a touch of guilt, there was a light that had gone from her eyes. She was sad… Seras claimed constantly, though she clarified Integra hid it until she thought no one was looking.

It just made the No Life King smile. It was not out of cruelty, he had not meant to make her wait so very long. But even before, when he had desired her for his queen, and shared intimacy with her, selfishly spoiling her expectations in the hopes of keeping her for himself and hoping she would never find the touch of another man… he had wanted to die. He knew what it was like to be tired. The press of lives inside him, the cacophony of bitter and angry, scared voices never letting him escape his past. He relived the horrors that had made him what he was in his dreams most nights.

But no more. Now, there was an eerie calm, a peace to his mind. Gone with the turmoil and dinn had gone his self annihilation impulses. Yes, he was a monster. Yes, if he were to be removed from this world it would be at the hands of a human, as it should be. Humans killed monsters, it was the way of things. But he longed for that death no more.

Now, he longed for her.

Still, he longed for her.

And she for him. That was what drew a smile from him.

Reaching out to run fingers through her impossibly long hair, Alucard's smile broadened. He’d said to his Countess he was home, and he felt the truth of that statement. He also felt Seras trying to eavesdrop down the hall. Without untangling his fingers from Integra’s hair, he reached out his other hand through his new power - is wasn’t even really bending space. His hand was merely both in Integra’s room, and suddenly directly in front of Seras’s face.

Flipping one finger out, Seras yelped like a squeaky toy as she went flying backwards off the chair she was sitting on, and immediately started yelling at him.

“That was so mean, Master! Why would you do that I was sitting here minding my own business and you just-”

You were eavesdropping, Police Girl, he said to her mind, smirking as the nickname caused her to fuzz like an upset cat. Do better.

With a sigh and a non-verbal grumble as he reclaimed his hand, he heard her say dejectedly to his mind, Yes, Master.

Seeing Integra had not stirred, the vampire smiled to himself. So she thought herself old and undesirable, that he was too late. And yet she’d bested every man, every day of training for the last thirty years. She remained the respected head of her family organization, made Hellsing better, stronger than before. This all revealed to him when he had tasted her blood this night, a sweet ambrosia after starving for so long… and there was one little last, precious detail that made his hair curl to think about; she was still a virgin. She had waited on him in more ways than one.

She had missed him.

She was mad, he could feel that. Perhaps not enough to empty a second clip of blessed bullets into him after realizing who her nighttime interloper had been, but… he had some time to make up for before he would get her to agree.

But she would, eventually. Just as he had known she had thirty-two years ago.

She would agree to be his queen. It was time.

***

In the morning, Integra woke alone and wondered if the night before had been a very vivid dream. She looked around her room as she sat up, and felt a chill run down her spine. Surely it had been real…? Looking to her hand, her wound from where she’d fed Alucard was present. And yet it wasn’t enough to assure her.

She rose to dress after a short shower, glancing disapprovingly at herself in the mirror. Refined, mature, distinguished? Feh. Try old. Not to mention the eye patch from where the damned Major of Millennium had shot her. Fist clenched at her side she was still angry about it to this day. Less the vanity and more the lack of depth perception. She’d had to relearn how to shoot, to fence, to write… to do everything. That little gremlin had continued to make life hard for her for years after his death.

These thoughts carried her downstairs and into the kitchen for breakfast. She missed the days of Walter’s flapjacks and jam, but Walter had made his choice. Traitor. It had been more than ten years before Seras finally convinced Integra to entertain the notion of hiring another assistant. They’d been through four maids, two butlers and three personal assistants since then, none of which had worked out. The last had been a kind, elderly woman who’d done everything just right, and whose background check had been spotless. Poppy McCarthy had been ex-military and unbothered by the supernatural aspects of the job. She had been with them for six years. She’d taken to Seras and Pip quickly, pinching the walls to make the Captain jump, and told him she’d find his behind one day (much to Seras’s great amusement). McCarthy had intuitively picked up on Integra’s needs as well, keeping distant most days, but always knowing just the right times to say something insightful and uplifting. Come to find out, Poppy had also left a clean set of clothes next to the door of Alucard’s sealed chamber every few days.

She’d been perfect, and Integra had finally started to accept her... when she died. Seemed an unknown heart condition coupled with a vampire attack on the manor had been too much for the elderly woman. Though to her credit, she’d taken out more than a dozen ghouls in the process, and they didn’t get to her at all. She had died a human warrior against the darkness.

That had been two years ago now, and Integra had not had the heart to go through it all again. It wasn’t that they didn’t need the help, it’s that she was tired of coming to care for people she would inevitably loose. It was part of the job, yes. She was a knight and a soldier who understood this, yes. Years of experience and training had prepared her for difficult decisions and loss. But after Alucard… she felt defeated.

Toast and a boiled egg was for breakfast, and Integra knew she was procrastinating. She wanted to go tearing downstairs, throw open Alucard’s door and see if he was there. She was equally terrified he wouldn’t be. But, she was English Nobility. She didn’t go haring off into a dungeon for anyone. She had dignity and manners, dammit.

Perhaps I can save you the trouble, my master , came the satin touch of a familiar baritone to her mind.

Still reading my mind unbidden, I see , she retorted flatly, trying her best to think of sunny days and toast, rather than the thrill of relief and other strong emotions his voice wrung from her.

I have missed years of eavesdropping your thoughts, he chuckled. I plan to make up for lost time for that, and many other things .

With a sigh, she was going to give herself a headache trying to keep her thoughts from him. She’d gotten fairly good at it over the years with help from Seras. But Seras was not as powerful as Alucard yet. Integra had every confidence that she would likely never be able to hide her thoughts from him entirely. So, she tossed the crust of her toast in the bin, and with head held high made her way to the sub-basement. It would be easier to talk to him in person.

***

“Don’t think that you can waltz right back in here, appearing like the villain the Irishman wrote you as, over my bed and that tra-la-la everything will go back to how it once was, servant,” she snapped.

Alucard sat in his throne (he’d missed it! It was so much more comfortable than he’d remembered!), legs crossed and trying with all his might not to smile at the platinum haired fury across from him. She was very angry, and he understood why. She was also armed. While it wouldn’t do any lasting damage, Alucard did not care to be shot for a second time in twelve hours.

She was railing on, having perhaps been a touch provoked at his smug suggestion that she sit on his lap. Ranting about the years gone by, what Hellsing had endured, what she had endured, how dare he suggest that nothing had changed, and so on. It all faded in his ears as he watched her. He heard her words, and paid attention, but there was something captivating about her now that had not been before. She was comfortable in her skin, or had been more recently than not. She was no longer the young, angry, tight fisted young woman who’d clung tooth and nail to her inheritance. Her blouse was gathered at the sleeves, not a tailored man’s shirt. Her belt was a woman’s belt. There was a small edge of lace at the end of her tie. This anger was earned, and not an affronted outburst of sensitive pride...

The storm had passed, and left in its wake a goddess where once a young woman had stood.

“Well?!” she demanded, arms crossed expectantly. “Where do you expect this to go now?”

She meant as the weapon of the organization, as her servant having fully and quickly grasped the extent of his new power. Both her words and her very purposeful thoughts were focused on that.

But in her subconscious mind, he felt the young woman he’d left to go save himself, buried deep in a dark room not unlike the one in which they stood. She was hurt, weeping and very angry, and she wanted to know where they stood.

Integra slowed, as she was the only other thing capable of independent movement in the room, when he began moving in supernatural speed. As he stood and took a step forward, he watched her one blue eye widen- she’d seen him move. She’d not see him now, nor would she again until he stopped in front of her, but it made him smile that she was faster than ever, his lovely, deadly master.

Time resumed it’s proper course when he halted, nearly nose to now with Integra, hand on her gun and having every intent of shooting him again. Alucard could no longer refrain from smiling, holding her wrist to prevent her from unholstering the weapon. “I expect to be your servant in service to the Hellsing Organization until the day you decide that you’re no longer mad at me, that I have paid my penance for the thirty year absence, and that you are ready to join me as my No Life Queen, Intergal Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.”

Her eye widened, despite the rest of her face remaining stoic. “That… cannot be now. I could not be old for eternity.”

“No?” he asked, leaning down a touch and pulling her closer by the wrist he held. He noted, she did not try and struggle away. “Have you not seen me appear as a child? A girl-child even. I was no Seras Victoria when I became a monster, Countess. My blood, when it courses your veins,” he said as if speaking elicit poetry, “Will wash many years away, and one day, what form you take will be entirely up to you and untouchable by what time once thought to render.”

At that, her blue eye watered a little, and much of her anger fled. “And you?” she asked, refusing to give into the desire to lean against him. “You would still have me?”

Loosing her wrist and wrapping both arms around her, Alucard leaned in to kiss her neck, breathing over her skill and reveling in the shudder that took her body.

“You are my Countess, and have no idea what it took to return to you. The thought of your blood, your body, your kiss… were the desires that created cornerstones within me. When I lost myself, you, my master, were the foundations on which I was able to reclaim who I am. And be here.”

Reaching up to turn her face to him with a gentle finger, one arms still holding her against his chest, he grinned to see the spark of fire back in her one remaining eye. “I would have you here and now, if you gave the word, Countess.”

She damn near said yes. He saw it in her thoughts, felt it in the beat of her heart…

But, the walls cleared their throat?

“Pardonne moi, mes amis ,” Bernadotte’s voice echoed around them. “Seras wished for me to let Sir Hellsing know that apparently the Vatican is back?”

“I can kill them, and we can continue,” Alucard purred, feeling his temper flare a bit.

But Integra sighed and rest her forehead on Alucard’s shoulder. “They’ll find the family jewels if we leave them be too long, nosy bastards.”

Alucard frowned. “There was no family treasure Arthur or Abraham ever mentioned.”

“That’s because there isn’t any,” Integra chuckled. “That’s the joke. Pip?”

“Mademoiselle ?”

“Tell Seras I will be there in a few minutes. And politely fuck off for a moment, if you would?” The disembodied voice of the French mercenary chuckled, but turned his attention elsewhere noticeably, leaving them alone.

“Where were we,” Alucard rumbled, but was surprised when Integra took his face in her hands and kissed him. Chaste at first, her lips parted and he groaned, arms tightening around her waist as he tasted her mouth for the first time in what felt like much longer than thirty years.

It was more than a few minutes. No clothes were shed, nor anything more than a kiss. But it was a scandalous, toe curling affair from which Alucard did not wish to part. Unfortunately, it seemed the Jesus Freaks were starting to give his child a hard time upstairs.

“To be continued,” he purred, lips brushing hers before they parted, and together went to greet the enemy.

[asksectionxiiiiscariot]

Iscariot members finding out their s/o is a vampire?

Father Anderson

He has a job. He has a mission. He tries to protect them for as long as possible, but he knows that it won’t be long before he’s given the order. He’ll make it fast and painless. And he will not cry. But when he is along he’ll go under some water and scream. He will let it all out. He will not be sad when he mourns them, no it will be pure anger. Anger at himself, anger at Maxwell, anger at the demon that turned them.

Bishop Maxwell

He is so heartbroken. He trusted them, he loved them, he knows that they are the same person. But he knows that as soon as they are found out he will have to give the order. He’ll be trying not to cry as he tells Anderson to do what has to be done. Just a simple request of him collecting them necklace and making painless. Anderson does as order and leaves the bishop to cry over them.

Chief Makube

After he gave the order to end their unlife, he wouldn’t show how much he was hurting. But when he was alone he would text their cell and tell them how much he misses them and how much of a failure he was for not protecting them He would call their cell phone just to hear the voicemail. 

Sister Wolfe

She would do it herself. She would say goodbye to them and kiss them one last time. She would have them close their eyes. She found remind herself of the good times, shedding a single tear as she pulls the trigger. She’ll stand there for a few hours before returning to suffer in silence.

Sister Tagaki

She cries so much she can’t breath. She couldn’t do it herself. So Heinkel did it for her. She knows that this is what was going to happen. She is tore between complete denial and acceptance. Yumiko can’t bear to look at Maxwell who gave the orders, and Yumie has tried many times to physically hurt her childhood friend. Time heals all wounds and she prays that she will heal quickly.

[laski-and-sage]

Makube: Come on guys... we might have summer, but you can still get the body you want!

*goes to the cemetery and starts digging*

[vaticanvampire-blog]

+ Bonus:

Father Renaldo!

Art © Me, Characters © Hirano. All of these have transparent backgrounds.

Feel free to use these wherever/however you want! :3 (I’d appreciate if you leave me credit somewhere if you do please! c:)

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

Hellsing Princess Bride AU

Seras as Buttercup!

I feel like personality wise Pip fits Westley most but also… let me have Integra as a smarmy pirate… as a treat. She’d be so hot.

I just want a fun, fantasy Sertegra AU okay?

Perhaps an unpopular choice but fuck it lets make Alucard be the Prince Humperdinck of this. He can be up to his old Dracula bride hunting shenanigans.

Yes he’s a vampire.

I just think that canon makes such a big point of only humans being able to defeat monsters, and most specifically Alucard. And like. there’s the implicit placement of Integra as the chief person who may be able to do that, should she so choose. And like not that I would want to see them fight to the death in canon lmao but I think this would be an interesting setting to actually have that possibility play out.

Also I just want. villain ship teasing. With who? With everyone.

Anyway so uh Pip as Inigo Montoya I guess? I think he has the disposition for it. Idk who killed his father though lol

Maybe dark!Walter? As a sort of Renfield esque take on Count Rugen? I know I’m COMPLETELY changing character alignments and dynamics here but bear with me 😂

Anderson as Fezzik. Not for any particular reason beyond I like him being Part Of The Gang

Maybe Maxwell can be Vizzini? Or maybe even Makube, he seems to have slightly less of a temper and 100% more sleazy vibes

Millenium does not exist ❤️

Send me an AU and I’ll give you a few headcanons I have about it!

[laskume-dragon]

Out of a spontaneous whim i slapped a Dragon AU design on Makube. And since his prototype was a necromancer, i gave him an affinity for dead stuff....so he's a scavenger

My lil corpsegremlin 💖

[heinkeltheiscariot]

👤+ Makube

“Makube, huh...” Heinkel had to get used to the fact that some things that she had done before without even giving a second thought now were more difficult to do. Take, for instance, smoking, a habit Anderson used to scold her for. How one smokes with both of the cheeks blown the hell away? The answer is – with much effort.

She sucked the air roughly and strongly so that the smoke would actually get into her throat and lungs instead of being wasted running through the holes in what her cheeks used to be. That came with a sound similar to a snort as if she was about to spit some slime which she didn’t. That, her smoking, wasn’t nice. Nothing was nice about Heinkel anymore and she couldn’t care less.

Makube was... different. She couldn’t help but ccompare him to Maxwell and sometimes felt like a traitor admitting that this man was a much better leader Iscariots could wish for than Maxwell used to be. It felt like backstabbing to the memory of Enrico and still it was true. Makube was more rational, less emotional, older, and wiser than Maxwell. He was a real find for Iscariots, he was golden and Heinkel would trade him and his golden wisdom and great leadership skills in a second just to see Enrico one more time nodding to her that special nod she knew that meant “get rid of that bastard over there and do it quick”. That wasn’t fair to Makube but fuck being fair. Nothing was fair.

“Makube is a professional. One might say he was a God’s gift to Iscariots when we desperately needed a gift of a sort... One would be wrong. God never sends us gifts but only the things we can handle. We handled Makube, Makube handled us... and, hopefully, will handle for many more years to come in the name of Jesus Christ”, speaking this long was hard. Even harder it was not to sound cynical, even venomous.

“Makube managed to achieve the impossible. He found the way to talk to Hellsing so she would listen. That’s an achievement.”

The impossible... Heinkel wanted the other impossible. Because, you see, Makube was something else beyond being a bishop, a leader of Iscariots and a smooth politician.

Makube was a necromancer.

“You do not want that, Heinkel. And it has been too long anyway. The souls of the dead should rest in peace... and as an Iscariot she is right now fighting demons alongside with Anderson. I am sorry for you loss.”

Makube was a great chief, after all. She told him to go and fuck himself back then and got away with that. She told him lots of things back then.

“He is alright.”

[deadandbound]

Tag Dump: Characters

[sheirukitriesfandom]

A little something about Lumog, or rather, his grandma. Not particularly edited but I wanted to try and write my dear ex mercenary. Please note: Lumog's speech pattern is not meant to mimic any particular English dialect or slang; I imagine my characters speaking German. However, I wanted to transpose his voice, which in German is a bit of a Kodderschnauze.

As the traveller approaches, they can see an orc sitting by the campfire. He is sharpening a massive axe whose edges gleam in the warm light like thin crescents of molten steel. When he notices the traveller, he pats an empty spot beside him, beckoning them to come sit with him.

"C'mon, no need to be shy," he calls out. "There's still some sausage left, and a bedroll, too. Got some mud caked on the outside but, y'know, still better than the ground."

Nervousness bubbling in their stomach, the traveller sits down next to the orc. In the warm firelight, his skin seems olive green, though the tone must be cooler by day. His hair, shaved off save for a slim strip, is tied back into a loose, messy ponytail, whereas his beard is artfully woven into a single braid that reaches just above his chest. His arms are as thick as the branches of an oak, and his belly as big as its trunk. 

"Name's Lumog," the orc says, lets go of the whetstone and reaches out to the traveller. The traveller, however, doesn't realise. Their eyes are transfixed on the axe in the orc's -Lumog's- lap.

"Ah, 's an heirloom, that axe," Lumog explains, full of pride. "Pretty thing. Trusty thing. Served me well when I was still with the Merry Maces, though I s'pose the boys must've been blind - 'cause it's an axe, get it?" He laughs and also regards the double-edged battleaxe. An orcish masterwork in every regard, though marred with scratches. A pair of headbutting echateres adorns its silver cheeks.

"Lashga's her name, after my grandma, y'know, the bandit queen Lashga gra-Kagol. Long story, that one: She was good with the forge - but better still with the axe. When the time came to marry, she was s'posed to become some chief's forgewife. But my gran was a proud, independent woman - didn't want no chief, didn't want no forge to tend to. Not all the time, at least. 

So, after nightfall, under skies as black as tar, she made off with her axe -her dowry; self-made to show how good of a smith she was-, some coin and some elk jerky. Many years she spent travelling, bashing in heads along the way. Became infamous. Founded a bandit clan and terrorised the mountain passes between Wrothgar and Skyrim. Two things people knew 'bout her: She was a fearsome leader and she was filthy rich. Bandit Queen, indeed! 

When she decided she wanted a husband, she posed a challenge:

The man who'd best her in battle would get her hand in marriage.

Many challengers came and many challengers died. For years, none could beat her - and she even let 'em choose their own weapons. She did. And they all still died," he laughs gruffly and shakes his head. 

"Bloody fools they were. Then, one day, Makub, my future grandpa, arrived to challenge her. Scrawny lad, half her height and width - well, not quite - but a wimp, that one - not someone who could beat the terrifying Lashga gra-Kagol. When she saw him, she laughed and demanded that he choose his weapon and face death. 

And then - you wouldn't believe it -, then, from out of his backpack, he produced a game of 'Dragon's Duel'.

Ha! That sly fox challenged her to a battle of wits. He did! He really did!

Four days they played, my gran said; six, said my grandpa. I say they're both full of mammoth dung, but eh, let 'em embellish their little love story. They fell for each other while they played -fall hard, they did- and when Makub finally beat her, they got married but a week afterwards."

[dasurteil]

@gctita confesses: TOUCH MEME 🔥

send a symbol for my muse to react to yours… / not accepting.

grinding against them

She’s been teasing Heinkel all day. Sneaky little brushes of her gloved fingers against their hip or thigh, sidelong glances when nobody’s paying attention, that long tongue gliding—slowly­­—over the fang that peeks from between Seras’ full lips.

They’ve seen it all.

But the Regenerator’s been remarkably restrained—must be, since they’re hardly alone in Hellsing’s conference room. Still, there’s only so much Heinkel can take before they snap, and it’s become more and more obvious in the last hour just how agitated the young vampire’s playfulness is wearing on their self-control.

Instead of standing in the shadows beside Makube, they’ve started pacing behind him with eyes lasered on the former law officer beneath the unkempt fringe of their hair. They can see the quirk of her lips as she watches from behind her own master. In fact, they’re so busy watching the vampire that they almost miss the sighed dismissal, like there’s a lag in Heinkel’s Italian translation though they speak it as naturally as their born tongue. Apparently Iscariot’s chief has finally tired of his subordinate’s restlessness. In an instant, they’re gone from the room.

It never takes the vampire long to find her opposite, and this time’s no exception: only a handful of minutes tick by. She’s usually tentative with them (for good reason), but today, Seras is decidedly less-so. Heinkel’s pressed back against a wall with a breathy murmur of their name on those taunting lips. It’s a tone that has them growling softly in response, or maybe it’s how that smaller body slots against their own. Either way, it’s rapidly reigniting the embers smouldering within the gunner.

Mismatched hands reach for Seras’ hips and hold as she arches provocatively, tightening in silent encouragement. It’s been months since they’ve had this kind of contact, this intimacy, but time has made it no less intoxicating—maybe moreso—and they’re like an addict.

Heinkel’s self-control has never been that great.

Another growl, low and promising, and they grab the small hands sliding across their chest. Heinkel shifts, manoeuvres that smaller body with their own. Now it’s Seras against the wall instead of them, facing the cool stone rather than having her back to it, and wrists pinned loosely above her head. Sure, the vampire could free herself if she wished, but Heinkel suspects she won’t, suspects this might be just what she wants.

They lean their body into her’s now, gloved fingers sliding their way low on Seras’ stomach between it and the wall. It’s Heinkel’s turn to tease, to torture. The Regenerator’s touch dips lower, following the lines of a strong, slender thigh until fabric gives way to bare skin. It lingers there a moment, brushing surprisingly lightly, as teeth nip over an ear lobe.

“ What do hou want, Sherash Victoria? ”

Only when she answers will fingers slip beneath her skirt and slide their way back up.

[asksectionxiiiiscariot]

Iscariot Headcanon #6

Azaraku Makube dabbles in dark magic and necromancy. Don’t tell anyone, but he has a few ghouls in his study that he treats like pets. He feeds them, but sometimes he loses some of the control he has and they try to attack him. You can hear him fighting them then a large boom. Usually the door opens with a cloud of purple and black smoke from his magic.