User:SCarverOrne/A Terrible Headache
The corpse chuckled. “Well,” it said. “That’s just one more baskethead running around naked.” And with that, the reanimated remains of Iogeirr, Elder of Karaph, threw Eygrim’s robes onto the rather large pile of clothing beside it. And the archmage smiled, and went back to sleep.
The Priests of Yolgrobeyn held reign over in those days, and all manner of deviancy was punished in strict adherence to the will of their master. Eygrim’s own father had been sworn against as a blasphemer and beheaded long before Eygrim had reached adulthood. Now he stood alone, longing for the lost knowledge of ancient lore, as only the Elders of Karaph could hold.
Eygrim searched within his tomes of sorcery and scrolls of forbidden history for all he could learn as to what had become of the Great Council, but all he found was naught. As time passed Eygrim learned of the Valley of Secrets, where it was rumored held the tomb of the archmage Iogeirr, the last of the great and ancient Council of Karaph.
With naught but the very robes he wore did Eygrim set out for the Valley of Secrets, confident his necromantic skills would prove most sufficient in his task. After days of journey he at last reached the tomb of Iogeirr. He pried open the stone door of the crypt and laid eyes upon the final resting place of the great archmage. Reciting the proper incantations, he made to waken the corpse from its eternal death slumber. As the rotting body of the Elder Iogeirr rose up, Eygrim clutched his head. The awakened mage had hit him in the head with a scepter.
“What do you want, baskethead?” it said as it continued its assault on the head of the precocious and now quite remorseful Eygrim.
“Stop it,” said Eygrim as he attempted to block and dodge the blows of the raised Elder.
“Oh no, you brought me back for a reason. Out with it, baskethead.” Eygrim’s head continued to receive the battery of the corpse’s scepter.
“Stop it! Stop it now!” cried Eygrim.
“Don’t you go telling me what to do, you young whooseewhatsit. That’s the problem with you dummies, you think ‘oh, I’m such a great and terrible whatchacallit, I can tell anybody what to do.’ Well I got news for you!”
The remains of Iogeirr ceaselessly beat the head of Eygrim. “I’ll use the Yggr Incantation,” Eygrim threatened.
“Oh you just do that,” said the mage corpse. “And then make sure you sing me a little song before I knock some more sense into you.” Eygrim tried to back away from the reanimated Elder, but the narrow confines of the crypt left no room for escape, save the entrance.
“Never do you obstinate brats ever say, ‘oh Iogeirr, its nice to see you, how’s the whole death thing going,’” said undead mage continued. “it’s always ‘tell me this’ and ‘I seek that’ and ‘bestow unto me that knowledge terrible and awesome, that all my enemies might be smote before the power of thy magic arcane’ or some garbage.”
Eygrim was starting to have difficulty seeing straight. He edged his way toward the entrance of the tomb. “Where do you think you’re going?!” hollered Iogeirr. It reached out its available skeletal hand and grabbed hold of Eygrim’s robes. “I’m not finished yet. You’re all alike, you get a few cracks on the noggin and you want to run away. Well no sir, this is just one more thing you’re going to have to… hey, where’d you go?” Iogeirr looked up to see the stone door of the crypt close with a loud thud.