~*~

Death in this wretched land came in many forms; perhaps a fall from a great height, a bad case of food poisoning, or even a sword through the heart, sawed back and forth repeatedly until the mangled body no longer twitched.

But death, on these soils that glow a faint piss-yellow, did not grant a sweet release: it was a shackle of eternal servitude.

Amidst the screams that rang through the once boisterous town square stood a distinctively male figure. Basking in the moonlight, his immaculate black suit, ramrod straight back and contrasting white gloves made him the very image of a gentlemanly butler.

That was, if one ignored the fact that he floated two meters off the ground.

And that the left half his face was a black skull.

The undead butler did not sport the calm, stoic expression that was expected from his stature. His face, whatever remained of it, twisted, his brow furrowed and lips snarled.

He surveyed the ruined town. Black skeletons, clad in smoking plate armor and wielding swords and bows swarmed the town as they conducted their mindless slaughter. Armored men grouped up and fended off the onslaught as the town folks fled towards the gates but even they knew their actions were futile. The undead numbered more than ten times that of the remaining humans, not including the dead that were soon to rise. They were all under the command of his liege.

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His wonderful liege, whose power dwarfed his own, who he swore his absolute fealty to. Normally a mere mention of his liege would evoke happiness and pride. But the butler's reminiscing did not bring joy.

Those bastards.

A pulse of darkness radiated from him as he shook, his gloved fists clenched. The screams around him grew louder as the ground rumbled in response. This continued for several minutes, but eventually, he stopped. He could not put it off any longer. He had his orders, and they were absolute.

The red flame in his skeletal socket dimmed as he closed his only remaining eye. Then, after a moment, he had a bird's eye view of another town. Similar in size, but rather different.

Ah, a minor obstacle I see.

Sighing, he ended his scry and waved an arm towards the sky. Strength left him as he descended on the dirt road. All around him, the shadows cast by the moonlight and even the very darkness of the night came to life. The air shuddered before shadows streaked up from the entire town—a rising black curtain that blotted out the moon and seemed to curtail the dying town's demise. Then, the shadows coalesced and molded into physical forms.

It took just a moment, but nearly fifty winged monsters materialized in the air as they simultaneously let out a cry. The resulting cacophony of unworldly shrieking drowned out even the cries of the town. The monsters' grotesque features were such that no two creatures looked the same. The only common points they shared were that they had wings, were black, skeletal, and more than twice the butler's size.

The butler turned and pointed towards the horizon. The flying creatures took off at once. Words were unnecessary.

Took more out of me than I expected.

Shaking his head, he turned to look down the street towards the town gates. The cries from the retreating men had all but died out as the final few stragglers were surrounded by the skeletal troops.

A pity.

He would find a way to kill those bastards. But first, he needed to rest. Thankfully, he still had time.