Being undead isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. Anyone seeking to exist after death in any form really needs to consider that there have been zero instances of a happy undead entity. And the more powerful the undead creature is, the more miserable they are bound to be. This little tidbit of wisdom is forever overlooked when ambitious people cast aside all arguments as they go after the goal of achieving “eternal existence.” As soon as a soul crosses into undeath all of the things that potentially provide joy become annoying nuisances. The monster is consumed with anger, regret, hostility, hatred, and of course paranoia and unfulfillable desire. Sound fun? Well, it isn’t. It straight up sucks and every lich on Domum knows it.
For the Viceroy the last month or so had been especially infuriating. It seemed to be that every damn day there was another setback. It seemed to him that the terror he had so quickly instilled in those around him was wearing thin, and there was far less cowering obedience than the Viceroy was looking for. The Fallen Knights of Lotharingia were whole-heartedly committed to his schemes, but it was beginning to become more and more obvious that the Sachsens were hesitant and that the Söldnerländers were outright dragging their feet. He had relied on Untote Druuna to carry her weight and so far that was holding up, but the primary aide to those efforts had been Lyllyth, and she had been destroyed while endeavoring to make the spring military action easier. The attack that Lyllyth had suffered was so severe and so fast that there hadn’t been any time for her to escape. And just like that the Viceroy had lost one of his best and strongest minions.
And just this morning the lich had been alerted to an intruder in one of his hidden lairs. With the speed of teleportation, the Viceroy had reacted only to discover that the trespasser was a freaking dragon. As surprised as he was to find this interloper the furious ass-whooping that the dragon delivered to the lich was even more of a shock. It was only by the skin of his teeth that the Viceroy was able to make good his escape. He had spent the rest of the morning scrying his lair only to watch in building fury and helplessness that the dragon was looting the place down to the last copper piece. It was small comfort that this represented only a fraction of the lich’s accumulated wealth. It was still a cursed outrage.
So, it was with a small amount of actual delight that the Viceroy received the news from Lord Verrat that the raid into Oublier had been successful. The ambush that Lord Verrat had set up had managed to kill the Archduke of Maelonbourg. While the rest of his entourage had managed to escape death, it wasn’t by a large margin. It was now up to the Viceroy to keep the Archduke dead for as long as possible. This always sounds like an easy task. Unfortunately, the Archduke had around him a perplexing array of deeply committed companions who would go to any length to raise the damned ranger from the dead. This was a constant theme. The Viceroy would manage to kill this guy just to have him brought back from the grey beyond to cause more trouble for the Viceroy. While the lich was under no delusion that he could keep his enemy down for good there was at least a chance to keep him out of action for a while. A week perhaps? A month? Could he be kept inactive until after the Viceroy was able to complete his springtime attack on Fanolania?
It wasn’t long before the delight at the news turned to frustration as the Viceroy contemplated the upcoming difficulties. And that is why the undead are always so miserable. Finally, some bad news! I wonder what will go wrong now. Curses!