you need my blood for that thing to work, and I can guarantee you don't have any; and two, even if you did, you can't kill me. That's not boasting, that's a fact. You might as well be unarmed. Which is too bad; I don't like killing unarmed men, but I can't allow threats on my life, even if it's quite impossible to actually pose any threat. It's a respect thing. I'm sure you understand." Bill didn't care to wait for a response, and threw himself at the voodoo man faster than anyone would have thought possible. He covered the distance between them in a blur, and plunged his sword into the voodoo man's chest.
Well, where his chest had been, anyway.
The voodoo man had anticipated the lunge, and twisted away from it. Mid twirl, he had pulled a small needle from his poncho and now stabbed down into Bill's arm. He quickly pulled it free, wiping the red from the needle onto the doll. This was upsetting to Bill. No-one had actually drawn his blood in over 300 years, and now that blood was in the hands of a practitioner of the voodoo school of magic. Despite his bluster, he had no idea how that brand of magic would affect someone like him. Voodoo Masters were rare; the ability to cast voodoo magic was something you were either born with, or you weren't, and far more often than not, you weren't.
Bill did not intend to discover the hard way how voodoo affected him. He chopped sideways with his sword, intending to catch the voodoo man in the ribs, but again found himself cutting into the air.
The voodoo man now stood several feet away, bloody doll raised towards the heavens, engaged in a rhythmic chant. At what seemed to be the climax of the chant, he plunged his needle towards the doll. As Bill started towards the man and the doll, he felt something pierce his chest, going strait through his heart. Then it pierced his leg, then his cheek, then his gut, and again and again as the voodoo man jack-hammered his needle into the doll. Even for an immortal body, there's only so much damage it can take before it shuts down. It would heal, but in the meantime, blood stopped pumping, lungs stopped breathing, and Bill dropped into unconsciousness. His last lucid thought before a black veil draped over his mind was echoed in his skull...
"I might be in trouble here."
Well, where his chest had been, anyway.
The voodoo man had anticipated the lunge, and twisted away from it. Mid twirl, he had pulled a small needle from his poncho and now stabbed down into Bill's arm. He quickly pulled it free, wiping the red from the needle onto the doll. This was upsetting to Bill. No-one had actually drawn his blood in over 300 years, and now that blood was in the hands of a practitioner of the voodoo school of magic. Despite his bluster, he had no idea how that brand of magic would affect someone like him. Voodoo Masters were rare; the ability to cast voodoo magic was something you were either born with, or you weren't, and far more often than not, you weren't.
Bill did not intend to discover the hard way how voodoo affected him. He chopped sideways with his sword, intending to catch the voodoo man in the ribs, but again found himself cutting into the air.
The voodoo man now stood several feet away, bloody doll raised towards the heavens, engaged in a rhythmic chant. At what seemed to be the climax of the chant, he plunged his needle towards the doll. As Bill started towards the man and the doll, he felt something pierce his chest, going strait through his heart. Then it pierced his leg, then his cheek, then his gut, and again and again as the voodoo man jack-hammered his needle into the doll. Even for an immortal body, there's only so much damage it can take before it shuts down. It would heal, but in the meantime, blood stopped pumping, lungs stopped breathing, and Bill dropped into unconsciousness. His last lucid thought before a black veil draped over his mind was echoed in his skull...
"I might be in trouble here."
