“Phil the Necromancer is drinking in a tavern.”

Hey wait I’m the narrator-

“You see, Phil has been in poor spirits lately, and not just the ones in his stein.”

..He stole my pun..

“Poor Phil has always dreamed of being a peerless necromancer of skill such he could drain the underworld of its spirits with naught but a glance. Tragically, however, Phil’s only real skill is draining the spirits in his cup.”

The pompous dick pretending to be the narrator was a rather extravagant fellow adorned with colorful raiment and an arrogant sneer as he took a seat next to Phil the Necromancer.

“Fuck off Gleise.”

Yeah Glaisse, ya fukkin’ wanker. What are you supposed to be anyway? A jester? Poofy fuck.

“It’s not my fault dear Phil, who else is a bard to tell stories of if not those he is so familiar?”

You tellin’ me you twos is fuckin’?

“We’re not ‘familiar.’” Too late Phil, it’s headcanon. “I just visit cause there’s a graveyard nearby is all.”

“Really now! Well then Phil, what do you do at this graveyard hmm? You don’t steal bodies cause the guards would have you in stocks, and you don’t raise them because…well.” The rather seedy bard gestured elegantly at all of Phil.

“Whadda you know? I AM going there to raise them. I just… haven’t found the right one.” Phil sullenly grumbled into his mug.

“Oh yes OF COURSE~~! That’s right you’re just looking for the right one how silly of me! Why I bet you’ve already accumulated the skill points and ingredients and you could do a soul binding right now~”

“I…”

“Lay off him Gleise.” A gruff voice ground out from the back of the bar where the shadows obscured the quiet movements of the other patrons. A meaty hand, thick from years of hard labor gripped the edge of a table, pulling the bearded face of its owner into view. “He’s heard enough.”

“You know it’s true Luan! You haven’t seen him bring even one familiar into town, much less an actual undead.” Luan lifted himself to his feet, a surprisingly intimidating action considering the grimace un-bending his knees elicited. “A..alright I’ll leave it! But you know as well as I that we can’t afford anymore dead weight.” With a contemptuous glare at our dear Phil, the arrogant twat- ah..the bard strode from the tavern and into the night. Luan snorted with his eyes on the swinging door before following, pausing a moment to rest a hand on the shoulder of our quiet necromancer.

“Don’t mind him too much Phil, he’s just scared that we won’t be ready by fall. After Guro…after the High Necromancer left, our numbers have dropped too much; it’s put him on edge. Hell, it’s put everyone on edge.” Luan’s dark eyes swept back towards the door. Heaving a sigh he patted Phil’s shoulder and lumbered out of the pub. “Take care of yourself Phil.”

“I’ll try.”

…………………………………

Phil cursed, stumbling as his toe caught another hidden rock in the ground. He glared at his feet before squinting at his surroundings. Home wasn’t too far from the tavern in the daytime, but every hour the sun sank past the horizon and every pint Phil sank past his tongue seemed to add a mile to the trip, and he’d sunk far too many of both. Still cursing quietly, Phil forced the palms of his hands into his eyes in an attempt to rub the drunkenness from them, and force his world to stay still. A few more stumbling steps assured him that his efforts had been useless, and the walk home was bordering on an adventure. If someone had asked Phil why he stayed up so late drinking besides his obvious self-pity and insecurities, Phil would probably punch the guy in the face. If Phil decided to answer, however, then he would tell them that when he was a boy he read a story about how a demon was cast from heaven and crashed into the earth, only to be found by a late-night drunk upon whom the demon bestowed all of his incredible necromancy powers. This answer would only be about 80% bullshit too~. Mostly, Phil, like any other necromancer, just preferred the night. Whether that preference stemmed from necromancer’s desire to remain spooky at all times or just realized that robbing graves was way easier when no one was awake, is hard to tell. Either way, it was thoughts like these that were running through our darling, insecure drunk’s head when a body slammed into the ground in front of him.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“WHAT the FUCK?!?” That would be my reaction too Phil, soldier on. “Ah ow shit my ass..” Phil clutched his aforementioned tucchus after introducing it to the ground in his surprise. In front of him wasn’t a demon fallen from heaven, but a pale, mangled corpse with only one arm. “What? What’s this? A body? But how did…” Phil trailed off while ogling the corpse.

Pull it together Phil this is your chance to raise some hell, or the body at least.

“Wait…I can use this. Yeah…yeah! This will work! I just need to make this into a zombie and I can tell Gleise to shove it up his ass! No, no better yet I’ll wait till the full moon. When it’s full I can soul-bind it then no one will be able to doubt me!” Muttering to himself in this cheery fashion, Phil lifted the corpse and resumed stumbling home.

Phil woke up early in the morning, the soft rays of dawn barely illuminating his simple room with their light. Phil blinked his eyes open before throwing his sheets off and hurrying into the kitchen. He’d almost crashed straight into the door before he remembered to keep hold of himself.

“Oh~?” Layara Kessle stood over a fire stove in the kitchen, the sizzling of breakfast flowing past her slender frame and suspicious expression to stimulate Phil’s apetite. “You’re up awfully early, Phil. Something planned?” Layara’s brows wrinkled ever so slightly as her eyes narrowed. Clearly Phil’s excitement wasn’t subtle enough to ignore.

“Oh…eh it’s…it’s just that it’s such a great day today! Yeah! I think that today is the day I’ll get my big break!” Phil spread his arms and smiled just a bit too convincingly. Layara’s red hair bounced, a few streaks of grey showing through the amber curls as she lowered her head to look at Phil over her glasses.

“Your big break? In the daytime?” Phil nodded readily.

“Yep! I have a good feeling about today Mom.” Layara sighed and turned back to the stove.

“I really wish you’d give up on the whole necromancy thing. You could be a farmer or even a merchant! I’ve seen your numbers, you could do well in the trade.” Phil planted himself at the table with a frown.

“Necromancy has been in our family for years…”

“Your FATHER’S family. My father was a merchant, good at it too. He was about to be promoted to lord by the time he died. He didn’t go running off to the city before dawn every day for some ‘demonstrations’.” Layara was too busy bustling about the stove to notice her son’s frown, or the grin that spread across his face after the spark of memory made its way through his foggy mind. “I know, I know. I’ll stop bugging you about it. Here. You’ll need breakfast if you have such a big day planned.” Layara slapped a plate of egg and sausage in front of Phil before setting down across from him. “Any chance I’ll get a hint at what you’re up to?”

Phil wolfed down the food as quickly as his burning tongue would allow then, with a gulp of water from his glass, he smiled at his mom. “No way~” Then he leapt to his feet and jogged out the door.

“Be back before too late tonight! Things have been unsettled of late.” Layara called after him. Unfortunately, that was a request to which Phil wouldn’t be able to comply; tonight was the full moon. With a spring in his step and the familiar rush of anticipation he’d been feeling ever since he found that body. Tonight was the night to stick Gleiss’s rotten nose in it. Phil chuckled to himself before steeling himself. That was for tonight, but the day was still young, and there was much to prepare.