The ghoul limped into the small cemetery carrying a chair. As an undead, not many could accurately judge its age. But with its slow steps and limp, it seemed somehow, old. It sat on the chair and, to any outsider, moaned, gestured, and shook its head once in a while. However, to the occupants of the graveyard, the conversation went something like this:

“Yes Mrs. Smith. I know it's your chair. I'm borrowing it. Your granddaughter can find it here in the morning.”

“Well she seemed fine up there at the church earlier tonight. A little afraid obviously with all the undead and necromancers around. But I think we'll move on in the morning and as long as she doesn't do anything outrageously stupid, we can keep her alive until the army moves on.”

“Yes. It seems to take about two days for the response force to arrive these days. “

“Faster in your day was it, Mr. Smith?”

“Well, I certainly believe it. It's amazing that they let us get away with as much as we do.”

“Yes actually, they did specifically pick just before dinner time for us to show up. It's gotten to be a bit of a habit as far as I can tell. You see, the living necromancers don't like to cook.”

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“Oh no, it's worse than that! They seem to have a bit of an unofficial contest, sampling all the dinners after they have control of the town.”

“Yes, they are taking it much more like a frat party than a war. I have no idea what will happen once your side finally figures that out.”

“So, I was wondering. Did any of you want to get out of here and go see the world?”

“Well, part of that depends on what you've got left. The animate process does stop all the rotting, but it doesn't put anything that you've lost back.”

“I mean, I can remove a few bits if you want. Some folks like a nice clean skeleton.”

“I get some company out of it, that's what!”

“Well, if you really care about looks, I suggest you go for an incorporeal type. Some sort of specter would work well I expect.”

“My young man should be able to handle that, I'll get him out here before morning and we'll see how he does!”

“He thinks of me as his first. I have some influence with him. Don't worry about a thing.”

Then, to any outside observer, the ghoul desecrated the graveyard, digging up graves, collecting bones and trinkets. Finding small bits to eat.

About an hour before dawn, Edward awoke as the cold, muddy hands of his ghoul grabbed him and started dragging him out of the house he had borrowed for the night. Slapping the hands away from him, he quickly got dressed and followed his ghoul. As usual, it took him to the local graveyard and gestured to the remains that had been collected.

“Just these?” Edward asked. The ghoul nodded. Edward began his magic incantations. The ghoul moaned. The spirits who had decided to go out and see the world saw a light forming around their remains and former treasured possessions.

“Just move toward whatever feels right, don't resist the pull. You'll make it easier on my boy.” the old ghoul said. A specter, two wraiths, and a skeleton took shape, bowing before Edward after they had formed.

“Yes!” he shouted. “Thanks, gramps.” he said, slapping the old ghoul on the shoulder. It was as many undead as all the rest of the necromancers in their group put together had gained with this attack.

After a quick breakfast by the living, the undead army left the town and moved east. They had about a day and a half to get to safety and avoid a reprisal.