“After a few years of the rise of Maximilian to godhood, I’ve been traveling around the realm to see what happened to my former companions after our last venture with each other. Have they strayed off the path of justice and soaked themselves in tides of darkness? The second companion I’ve had my eye on during our travels is a mortician named Dakras. I’ve heard some rumors about undead emerging from a forest at a nearby village. I shall make preparations immediately to see the fate of the necromancer, now only known as “The Lord of the Hills” by some. Indeed that title fits for the recently arisen Necromancer King. I must be careful." – Antonio, The Grateful Dead
Sitting on his throne, contemplating what to do today, is a hooded man who wears a worn crown. The crown has seen better days, once opulent and filled with the brim to jewels. But now the radiance has faded away, now decorated with only the blackest of jewels. Down these empty halls, all you can hear is the occasional hum of this man.
“What to do about that dreadful dragon? His influence is slowing spreading and that visage is a mockery for all I’ve worked up for. Hmmmm. Damn you, Max. Always a thorn in my side.”
The hooded man slumps in his chair, collapsed like a pile of bones. He lets out a big sigh, a rare sign of emotion from Dakras.
“I’ll wait it out. I have all the time in the world, just like him. Besides, he’s out there in his city and I’m in my tomb.”
Another noise stirs through the stone halls. Sounds of something running. Eventually, a big skeletal figure emerges into the main hall. Dakras gets out of his slump and fixes himself to a much more comfortable position.
“Are the premises clear of adventurers, my Skeletal Champion?”
The skeleton nods from left to right.
“What do you mean we’ve been breached?”
The skeleton champion shrugs.
“Well, who are our invasive visitors?” Dakras pauses a bit. “Never mind. Lemme see them. Bring the Orb.”
The skeleton champion hurries down one of the numerous hallways and grabs a translucent orb. The orbs glows and displays a image of a band of four people entering into the tomb.
“One of them looks like a cleric, the other a barbarian from the tattoos. Hmmm. One of them seems to be a wizard, but the fourth person looks to be a bard. There’s no rogue though. Hmmm.”
Dakras puts his hand on his chin, revealing the necromancer’s pale skin and long and unkempt hair.
“Ready the cart. They’re not gonna survive long in here I’m afraid.”
The noises of screams can be heard from the orb. The orb reveals the pincushioned remains of cleric. The rest of the group runs away and screams in fear.
“At least this time it was short. Go and fetch me that body. Put it in the lab like the rest.”
The skeletal champion hurries to the remains of the cleric. After a few moments, the champion returns and with the cadaver in questions and goes to the side room. Dakras gets up from his throne and proceeds to his necromancy lab. Within the lab, a pile of adventurers are next to a table. Dakras sighs.
“If only those backwater idiots would stop filling adventurer’s heads with the idea of an evil lich residing here. I’m still breathing first of all. Second, I accidentally let one of my undead be seen and the whole village freaks out. Third, I’m doing this in the name of self defense. This is my home after all. They’re trespassing. They don’t read the signs I put in front of the tomb.”
He mumbles more words before uttering a few magic words and cutting his arm with a knife. A few hours later, an amalgamation of body parts come tumbling out of the door.
Dakras walks out using Thanifex, his magical scythe as a walking stick.
“Yawwwwwn. That’s enough work for today. Tomorrow is another day with the same old stuff.”
Dakras heads to his bed chamber and lays his body to rest.