After the best tryst of her life Mary had been lying nude, wrapped up in the strong capable body of the local novelty. She had figured out what he was during the night, which was quite irresponsible of him. She knew what his people had done to hers but fortunately for him, she didnt care. In this continent, elves were slaves. And she was treating herself to him tonight.

She had clipped her ears, which stung every day in her first life. Thinking of it now, the pain was gone. It was like that blood had reforged her body new. Her connection with the Lich was broken now. She no longer had to perform menial tasks for Alrich Schroder Lich lvl 50. The trouble was that he immediately knew her connection was severed and her yet soul still remained. Immediately scrying the situation, he had his Smart Zombies bring this magnificent unicorn of a woman to his home.

The archlich wasnt a bad man as far as necromancers went. Though when he had living friends he was often criticized for disrespecting the dead. He didn't understand how giving new life to a dead thing was anything short of miraculous.

When he was finally able to transfer his soul to his phylactery he remembered losing all his senses. As his consciousness settled, his senses began returning. Unfortunately the main ingredient for the ritual was the blood of a creator, something not seen in a century. He performed the ritual with two drops instead of three supplementing the third drop with the blood of a demonkin bought for quite a bit of gold. The blood vials had belonged to his master. Unfortunately his masters phylactery had been smashed by an adventurer seeking revenge over use of his teammates body, as was the usual way necromancers perished. The blood had been accidentally smashed as well, the humans unknowing.

When it came time for his ritual of rebirth his senses didn't all return. During this rebirth, the lich had lost his sense of touch, smell and taste. In the two centuries since he remade himself he was never able to regain them. These differences set him apart from the local populace, isolating him. He eventually found residence in a local dungeon and began a regimen of self study and creation. He moved from massacre to graveyard to battlefield, building his horde. He had thousands of undead at his command. He even had uncommon varieties. He was proud of his work.

He had spent the past century reforming and reshaping his vessel. He had, himself, replaced most of his skin with trollskin. It made him tougher and kept him from rotting again. He couldn't feel pain so the procedure, although intensive, was completed with perfection. His skin was more white than normal humans but about the same as his undead. Despite being an undead, his body was a work of art.

The trollskin was just his first procedure. As he collected undead, he collected more effective body parts. He kept himself looking mostly human, except for the pads on his fingertips for climbing. He had lucked out with a lizardkin corpse before their kind had perished. His honey blonde locks were taken from the head of a druid and would deflect nature damage. His muscles were taken from an Alpha Wolfkin lvl 40, deceased. Not all of his experiments bound to his vessel, but he was constantly working on it. He made himself into a very beautiful man, but he wasnt vain. It was just the opposite.

He had learned to appreciate his shortcomings. Without touch there was no pain (but also no pleasure). Also, taste was deemed to be a wasteful thing that would lead him to eating food that he didnt even need (yet long missed). And with running an undead dungeon, smell was something he definitely did not miss (until he was outside among the flowers). He had learned to appreciate his inabilities as Blessings but he he felt incomplete. He had spent his entire unlife struggling to find satisfaction.

His was a life of research and creation. When the local populace had been exterminated and left to rot and he saw an opportunity. After defeating the local dungeon boss, he began flooding his new home with zombie minions for protection. It had been a long time since he changed homes and he was settling in splendidly. And then the Savior appeared.

He was working on a new set of undeads, meticulously stitching their wounds with care, gently, like a father would to his wounded children. The bodies from the town were collected and stored in a cooling room. He had been finishing with the last few corpses before he started upgrading and mutating each group again. He had already created a few smart zombies and was lucky to have found two elves in this town. He had an idea for a hivemind zombie but hadnt perfected it yet. The undead couldnt feel and most couldnt think but Alrich didn't care. Zombies were his superfriends.

As he finished up with the batch he had been working on he felt something like a thread disconnecting. Something he had long known to be the loss of one of his zombies. The trouble was, he could still feel the soul bound to the body. He scryed the location and to his astonishment saw a woman, bleeding, talking with a Water Fairy.

Water fairies usually kept to their underwater pocketworld. They were attracted to magic and fatechangers. They rarely breeched the surface of the shores of Nort. With one hovering ober this womans head, Alrich immediately reacted. His closest smart zombies redirected themselves towards the girl, herding the dumb zombied around her, forcing her in the direction of his home.

Alrich began to scramble, haven't had entertained a living soul in decades. He didnt even have tea leaves! He raced around his office, shoving creature parts in storage chests and shoving clothes and papers in his desk drawers. He was about to have a magical fatechanger in his home! The experiments he could do were endless, with just a little donation...