Ficlets

The Necromancer looked down at the corpse of the dwarf. She looked back up at the Knight who had, just moments ago, brought the body into her tent and dropped it in front of her, demanding that she raise it from the dead. Now he stood there grinning at her in a way which made her very uncomfortable; and it is almost impossible to make a Necromancer uncomfortable.

“You…are….aware zat ze corpse has no head?” she asked suspiciously. Her eyes kept wandering from his demented, grinning face to his Paper Mache Armor, then back to the grin again.

“Yes. That is how he died, madam. One cannot live without ones head. Time is of the essence. We’re hot on the killer’s trail! I think he is still in possession of the head!”

After a bit of chanting and powder sprinkling, the Necromancer shook her staff over the body and it sat up. It felt for its head, realized that it was gone and shrugged.

“Terrific!” The Insane Knight shouted. “You’re back, Tlod! We can’t waste any more time. Lets go!”