Brittle bones are the bane of any good Lich. That is why it is essential to not simply sip, but chug lots of milk. Your bones will thank you when barbarians bring down their spiked maces, when warriors heave their heavy axes. As these muscle-headed brutes make contact with your bones, the vibrations of your frame will ring out into the heavens, telling the world that you are a Lich worthy of the corpses you command.

Not a living soul was around. I could hardly see through the thick fog that must've rolled in over the night. It would’ve been peaceful if I didn’t know that a necromancer was lurking around the village, or if I had known how I ended up here. I didn’t feel well. It must’ve been the alcohol.

“Hey! Is anyone there!” I yelled as I wandered over the rolling hills of stones filled with the dead. Gravestones to be more precise. I wondered if purgatory was like this: the vast expanse of nothing but cut grass. If that was so, then hell was probably cutting the grass with tiny left handed scissors. I was never religious, but I figured it was a good policy to pray when strange things started happening.

No response came from gods or actual people. Only the whistling of the wind and the eerie cry of crows could be heard. This was seriously creepy, and I seriously couldn’t find the way out of the cemetery. I guess this is what I got for neglecting to visit my Grandmother’s grave.

A shining beam of light cut through the mist in the distance. It was slow moving light. Light was not supposed to move like that.

“Hey, over here!” I hollered to who I assumed was the supposed Cleric. He arrived today. I figured I’d be safer around him, or at the very least get some directions on how to leave this godforsaken place.

Again, I heard no response. I walked towards the faint glow of what I assumed was magic. I had never witnessed magic; not many wizards hung out in Mudvale. The magic was gold: the color of holy magic. Well, that wasn't quite right. It was almost the color of gold, the tinge was slightly off.

“Stop, where you are, you filthy necromancer! One more step and I will obliterate you from where you stand!” boomed the voice of a devout man.

Oh, thank goodness, I thought. The cleric would surely eradicate this evil, and I’d have nothing to worry about. I could even ask for a blessing if I played my cards right. I took a step forward.

A bolt of gold shimmered through the mist, whizzing by my head. I realized that the necromancer must have been close behind me. I didn’t even dare look back as I sprinted towards the soft glow of shimmering gold magic, running as fast I could, to make sure I wasn’t turned into some unholy abomination.

I knew, as I weaved through the increasing number of magic bolts, that the true evil was closing in on me. Why else would the Cleric become so frantic?

“Stop!” screamed the cleric as a bolt of magic hit me in the chest. I stumbled back onto the ground, as I felt a burning sensation grow in my chest. In mere seconds, my body felt as if there was a wicked inferno dissolving my internal organs.

“Help.” I croaked, immobilized on the floor.

A man in robes appeared out of the mist. His stoic face and clasped hands told me he was very serious. His bald head loomed over me. His pristine white robes juxtaposed his fat lumpy body caused by overindulging.

“Begone vile creature. You’ll receive no help from me, for I am a child of the god of Justice.”

“This must be a mistake.” I whimpered.

“You can’t trick me. I can sense the dark energy swirling inside you, foul abomination,” spat the Cleric.

The cleric stuck his hand out one more time and a beam of holy magic shot down, blinding me. I writhed on the ground in pain as I watched the Cleric stroll away, leaving me stranded and alone in the middle of the graveyard.

My torment lasted hours as the magic coursed through my body, searing my skin and burning my flesh. This shouldn’t be happening. It was well known that holy magic could only harm those with dark affinities. Yet I burned all the same.

As I writhed in pain, I vowed to get revenge on that nasty Cleric, The High Cleric of Nosterdam. No one that stupid should be the head of anything. At the time, my want for revenge was much more primal than liberating the people of Nosterdam from mediocrity. He hurt me, I hurt him. That was it. Unfortunately, I didn’t get too much time to think how I’d hurt him, for hurting me. Not before I could hear the steady rhythm of a shovel sinking into the ground.

As I craned my head to the left, I saw George.

“You’re the Necromancer. You framed me,” I croaked, as I connected the dots.

George paused his digging. His dead cold eyes stared at me.

“The dead shouldn’t be talking yet. So shut yer mouth”

“Answer me!” I hoarsely demanded.

George maniacally grinned showing all three of his misshapen teeth and rotting gums. A small sliver of skin peeled from his face as he scratched his cheek. I noticed that his left hand was mangled, missing three fingers. I hadn't noticed that before.

“What an honor it is for you to think I’m anything like my Master. No, I serve because I am worthless compared to him. You will be called to serve. First, the soil must embrace you.”

The staccato of George’s shovel continued as he dug into the ground. It was slow going, but he never seemed to tire.

“Why are you digging? I’m not dead, you know.”

“I must follow my orders. You are to be buried before noon. If I stop for a second, I’ll be late. Time is of the essence.”

It’s not surprising that I didn’t want to be buried. I was not a Morakkian Mole person. I was a human and they don’t like being dirty. Humans also like living. So my mind raced to think of a way, any way I could escape from becoming whatever monstrosity George was.

Running was out of the question. I could barely move my body without a searing pain shooting up through my legs. Crawling would not be fast enough, even if George didn’t initially notice.

“What exactly were your orders, George?”

“To bury the dead body,” hummed George as he dug.

“Well, I’m not dead, so you shouldn’t bury me.”

George paused as he thought real hard, taking ample time to concoct a proper response. It was as if his mind had rotted away and maybe it had.

“Well, I’ll just have to kill you first.”

“Wait!” I shouted as George slowly marched towards me.

George stopped.

“You were never given any instructions to kill anyone. I suspect your master would be pretty angry if you killed me before he discussed our important business.”

“What business? I was told there would be a body here to bury, no more, no less.”

“Who do you think was going to bring the dead body? Dead bodies don’t magically appear out of nowhere.”

“Nice try. Master placed you here last night. There’s no way you could’ve found a body in the dark.”

That was what he was skeptical of? There were more holes in my statement than Swiss cheese, and the darkness of night was his only gripe with the dung flying out of my mouth? I realized I had a fighting chance to not end up like poor George.

“In a graveyard? There are plenty of bodies here. I don't need to see what I'm already stepping over.”

“But they’re already buried! I would know. Who do you think buried those bodies?”

“Ah, but isn’t it the bodies you don’t know that aren’t buried? Look at me. You hardly knew me before you started digging with that shovel of yours. And if you don’t know the bodies that are yet to be buried, how do you know where or where not those bodies are? I could have a body in the vicinity and you’d be none the wiser.”

Nothing I said made any sense. Not even an alcoholic on magic mushrooms would agree with what I said. But it was not an alcoholic on magic mushrooms that I needed to convince, it was George.

“That does make some sense. But I don’t get why you’d keep the body hidden from me. I need to bury it.”

“I hid the body to protect it from thieves. As you very well know, corpses such as yourself are a very sought after item. It would be tragic if such a useful body were to go missing.”

“So, where is it?”

“That’s the unfortunate part. I did such a good job hiding it, I lost it. You should go find and ask your Master what we should do.”

“I don’t have time for that! I need to bury the body before Noon. You’re coming with me, we’ll ask him together. That’ll save us some time.”

George grabbed the collar of my leather tunic, dragging me across the graveyard.

“Hey! Put me down!” I yelped.

George of course did not put me down. I grimaced as I scraped my already battered and burned body across rocks and the occasional stone grave. It felt like eternity but it must’ve been about fifteen minutes before I laid in the front of an old looking catacomb like a decrepit sack of potatoes.

“Oh, great master, forgive me for my ignorance. I have brought with me the scoundrel who was supposed to bring the body for me to bury!” roared George.

A cloaked figure strolled out of the catacomb.

“You fool! He was supposed to be buried! Why would you think that?! What other corpse could possibly be around there?” shouted the cloaked figure.

The cloaked figure pointed at me as he continued to rant, his spindly but still human fingers suggested he was alive, although maybe a little malnourished. He hung his head low so I was unable to look underneath his dark gray cloak.

Frankly, Gray cloaks and drab colors are gaudy and stereotypical of a novice necromancer. The notion that a Lich must be boring and without color, is frankly absurd. But that hardly mattered as I stood before this necromancer.

George cowered, ducking his head away from the necromancer in shame.

The robed figure approached me.

“Interesting. Your mana pool is quite large. That must’ve been how you survived the Clerics holy magic, albeit burned and scarred. A shame that I have to kill you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Then don’t? I can’t have you running around telling people I’m still alive. Rumors will have the full force of the Kingdom coming down on my operation. I’m afraid I’ll have to turn you into ashes. It’s nothing personal of course.”

I gulped.

“Of course, no, no hard feelings. However, someone of your stature and grace could use an apprentice. It just happens that I’m actually in the process of looking for an apprenticeship.”

“Elaborate.” demanded the cloaked figure.

“You said I have a big mana pool and if I’m involved you’ll know I won’t spread any rumors. A necromancer as significant as you should have some underlings who aren’t rotten corpses. You could use someone with an actual working brain. ”

The necromancer stopped to contemplate. It was true that the dead just didn’t have the nimble minds of the living. George had showcased that on many occasions, and the rest of his undead minions weren’t any better.

“Don’t listen to him, Master! He’s just trying to trick you like he tricked me,” countered George.

“Silence, you undead welp! The fact that you were tricked just proves how little intelligence you have. He has a point. ”

George cowered.

“I like that idea. Yes, you’re right. A necromancer of my caliber should have an apprentice doing his dirty work. I must say my frustration of my minions' incompetence at fetching ingredients is at an all time high. Also, I won’t have to slave away grinding reagents anymore. I have too many blisters for a proper necromancer. Make sure you don’t try to flee or snitch on me. The curse I’m about to place on you will kill you if you try anything funny.”

“You can’t be serious! He’s a nobody!” screamed George. He trembled with rage.

“I SAID SILENCE.” dark mana extruded from the necromancer’s fingers, sealing George’s lips shut.

I was horrified. For a second, I questioned what I was getting myself into. But, no, I was tired of being no one. This was an opportunity that didn’t involve me dead, or raised as a horrible abomination. Sure, it wasn’t terribly appealing and, sure, it may have been illegal throughout the kingdom but there is an art to necromancy. I just didn’t know it yet.

“What’s your name, my apprentice?”

“Arthur.”

“I’m Alric.”

We clasped hands and I shivered as foreign mana was pumped into my body. It was a strange feeling, but unlike the holy magic it did not hurt.The cloaked figure beckoned me into the Catacombs. I lumbered inside.