The not-immortal Blacksmith

~2291 years since the new gods came.

The Litch King of Dys sat at the head of the full table, and looked across the duly elected council to the only empty seat. "I see that Lord Graystone has missed yet another meeting." Everyone else in attendance nodded.

Private Gunderson, the youngest representative ever voted in by the Army, spoke from the far end of the table, "I hope he hasn't fallen ill. Perhaps he's busy quelling the resurgence of undead that seems to be overwhelming the world? We all know how he feels about them."

The Litch nodded, "I hope those heroes show up soon, I'm getting tired of quelling all the graveyards. Perhaps we should send them a request for more rapid assistance?"

-

Sam, Molly, and Hesh looked over another ancient abandoned graveyard. It was hugely overgrown with bushes, trees, and brambles, with the wonderful addition of spiderwebs hanging everywhere. Hesh smiled, then looked over to Sam, "With the size of those webs, it looks like you'll get your wish of fighting something besides undead."

"Shut it, asshole." Sam replied, only barely containing a twitch at the sight of the overly large webs, some of which seemed to hold human sized cocoons.

Molly frowned at the graveyard, "I don't like how the shadows seem deeper in the 'yard, as opposed to outside of it. Something seems even worse than normal here."

Hesh shrugged, "Start with a couple of exploding fireballs? Then kill whatever survives?"

Molly and Sam nodded, and Hesh began casting.

-

The council meeting had ended, and the Litch removed the crown from atop his head, "Gods above, this thing keeps getting heavier and heavier by the day."

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His assistant, one Mr. Knobs; an ugly short fellow with a heart of gold; nodded, "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, my lord."

"I'm fairly certain that my head is just as heave as it was when I first became a Litch. I also think the crown has been increasing in weight, but the scales don't seem to agree with me."

"It's just a saying I have heard, my lord." Mr. Knobs replied, his tone level and serious.

"So, Knobs, how is your newborn doing?"

"She loves to pull my beard! I think it's her favorite thing in the world." Mr. Knobs replied. "My wife, on the other hand, is not a fan. She claims it tickles."

"…I miss my beard. It fell out about five minutes after I was turned." The Litch sighed. "I miss my hair as well, although it was almost time to shave it off when things happened."

"Yes, my lord."

"And stop it with the "My Lord" stuff. You know that annoys me."

A twinkle in his eyes, Mr. Knobs replied, "Yes, My Lord."

-

Molly stood, half covered in the black goo the undead had instead of blood, "I thought the fire was going to finish off most of them. Was this group fireproof?"

"Remember Sam's comment about the bear?" Hesh asked. "I think some of my spells were still being over-powered by the gods."

Sam stood from examining one of the corpses, "I think these were more powerful too." He yawned and stretched in the light of a freshly risen moon, "They seem to be much older than the last several nests we've cleared out."

Molly shrugged, "I need a bath. Is there anywhere around here that has water?"

Hesh pointed to a well on the other side of the graveyard's fence, "That's the best we can do for now."

"Ick. Graveyard water."

-

Sarah, Pendleton, and Mil sat in the branches of an old gnarled oak tree, looking down. The clear sky and full moon provided enough light for them to follow the burning red eyes of a boar. A boar that was missing most of its flesh.

"Don't worry, Mil." Mil said, making air quotes. "We can out run it."

"Don't throw my words back at me." Pendleton replied. "How was I supposed to know that undeath would make that thing worse?"

"I don't know? Maybe by listening when someone says "Don't poke the undead"?" Molly stated in a very flat tone.

"We just need to crush its head, right?" Pendleton asked. "That should be easy enough."

"Do you have a rock?" Mil asked. "Or do you plan on diving down there, and headbutting it? Your head is obviously thick enough."

"Close." Pendleton replied as he swung himself over the boar. "I'm going to lock me knees, and land on its skull." Then he threw himself from the tree.

-

Lord Graystone sat in his uncomfortable chair staring at the last page of the ancient book. Around him lay tufts of hair from his head and beard. The polyps had spread thoroughly across his face and down his neck like his beard used to. From his nose, a small white worm extended, then withdrew.

As he stared at the end of the book, he began to giggle.