Care and Feeding of a House Corpse [Solo]

[Lodekai]

“Lodekai!”

Calvin Belverouge was a successful necromancer. Ever since the completion of his Lodekai minion he had earned the genuine respect of his powerful Master and his fellow dark magi. He had a fine, dry cave deep in the Dagger Peaks in which to conduct his studies. It was a splendid place for a necromancer to live, actually. He had managed to acquire several pieces of fine furniture, even rugs and the odd tapestry to make it feel more like a home. In those quiet times after his studies when he could recline in his oaken chair and sip whatever wine his lesser minions had brought in, he felt a sort of dark peace. He loved the silence. It was truly the best gift his Master had ever given him. Away from the blather of everyday conversation. No loud screeching feminine voices complaining about the price of eggs or wheat. No intrusive male bragging or posturing. No drunken louts in his face insisting they were superior to him simply because they were from a different stock and breed. No women about demanding some sexual performance that they expected somehow to at once be both godly in execution and animal in nature. True, absolute silence in the womb of the earth. His minions tended to all his needs and his only concern was building an undead army for his Master. They truly were, almost perfect days.

“LOW - DEE - KYAAAAI!”

So how was it, he wondered, that he came to find himself in his current predicament? He was standing at the mouth of his cold cozy cave, flanked as it was by the kneeling corpses of all the adventures who’d dared intrude on his peace. He was dressed in his favored robes. They were old to be sure, but he had managed to place a successful enchantment on them that made them always keep the air around him at the perfect temperature. The edges were beginning to wear but they had molded to his form, the hood shaping itself perfectly to his long narrow head. Calvin was nothing if not a creature of comfort. So, again, he paused to ponder. Why was he waiving a pair of grey woolen breeches in the air and bellowing after an undead creature that was streaking down the mountainside in the nude?

“Get back here, you worthless corpse! How many times must I tell you? You have to wear clothes!”

Calvin bowed his head and ran the fingers of his free hand through his closely trimmed goatee. His facial hair was starting to pepper with grey the past few months, though he honestly wasn’t sure if it was his age catching up to him or the exertions his new familiar seemed to always be demanding of him. He closed his eyes and breathed a soft sigh. He was a patient man. He had waiting almost twenty years to receive the Grimore of Pyrovitaal that had allowed him to raise the creature Lodekai from the corpse of a Bladesinger. It had taken him nearly ten more years to decipher and gather all the needed reagents. Yet somehow, that creature Lodekai managed to burn through the necromancer’s entire stock of patience in a matter of mere moments with her antics.

“I’m getting too old for this.” He confided to his crow familiar, Zaz’thatal, as the creature fluttered down to settle on his shoulder. He raised his head and turned to look at the large black carrion bird, which stared back with unfathomable black eyes. “Will you hunt her down and get her dressed for me?”

“As my master desires.” The bird croaked in a harsh voice, flapping its wings and dancing outwards a bit on the necromancer’s shoulder. “Though some help with fingers would help this bird.”

“Of course, my sarcastic friend.” Calvin replied with the ghost of a smile. He snapped his fingers crisply and murmured a phrase in the demonic tongue. Two of the flanking skeletons rose to their feet and saluted the man. Their armor and gear hung off their naked bones and made them appear to be poorly made children’s dolls. “Assist Zaz’thatal and then return to your repose, my minions.”

“This way, this way!” The bird cawed, flapping its large wings and gliding back into the lair to retrieve the clothing Lodekai had left behind. The two skeletons saluted once more and marched forth wordlessly, feet rising and falling in perfect step. Unlike the creature Lodekai, such mere reanimations had no free will. They could not think, could not be inspired, could not learn, adjust or adapt. That was what made them so worthless as armies. A mere single human soldier could destroy countless such automatons. But if he could somehow find a way to so effortlessly create more like Lodekai... She was aware, could think and act beyond his orders. She truly behaved more like a familiar but instead of being a mere cat or crow, she was an undead. Hard to kill, loyal, unflinching in battle, creative in combat. She was the perfect dark soldier for his Master’s army. And the best part of all was, even if the creature did turn on them, it wasn’t like she was a mere dark elf. What set her apart from humanity was her creation, not her skin color. No nation would be foolish enough to take an army of undead, soulless abominations to their breast. He just needed to figure out how to create a second one in less than ten years…