Bone Rhapsody

Darkus the Necromancer sat upon his throne of skulls. Around him, the skeletons stood still and silent, patiently awaiting his commands. Everything was ready for the conquest of the world—or at least, for the takeover of a village outhouse as a first trial of his dark powers. One had to start somewhere, after all. Darkus discreetly adjusted a loose lock of hair, straightened the handmade bone crown atop his head, and checked his reflection in a tiny mirror, which he swiftly tucked back into the folds of his black robe, richly embroidered with silver runes. He had stitched the runes himself whenever he needed a break from studying dark magic. Everything had to look perfect when the time came to unleash his sinister—well, deathly—masterplan. Surely those long evenings spent practicing his evil laughter would not go to waste? “Darkus, we have come to stop you!” A powerful voice rang out from the far end of the grim hall. A group of adventurers had flung the doors wide open and now stood proudly in the doorway. Darkus quickly assumed his most menacing, most commanding posture. It wouldn’t do to disappoint them—after all, they too must have spent days preparing for this moment, gathering weapons and potions, psyching themselves up. “Begone, fools! Flee while you still draw breath! You shall never defeat the great Dark—” He broke off, choking on his own saliva, and collapsed into a humiliating coughing fit right in the middle of his own name. A critical failure, if one wished to be precise. “I thought he'd be taller,” said the barbarian woman, disappointed. “And, you know... more muscular. He looks like a twig.” “Not everyone has to look like a bison or a buffalo,” muttered the mage, who wasn't much sturdier himself. “Besides, that's lookism. And body-shaming.” “What are you even talking about, Spellweaver?” the barbarian asked, frowning. “If you want someone with a good look, just ask the elf. He's got the sharpest eyes around. And if it's bows, daggers, or lockpicks you need—that's his department too.” The elf let out a long-suffering sigh. “I do have a name, you know. Moonwhisper Daggerfallgloom.” “I can’t even say that, let alone remember it,” the barbarian huffed. “And you won’t even let me shorten it. So it's your own fault.” “Are you done?” Darkus cut in, clearly impatient. “We’re just getting started,” said a gnome stepping forward from the group. She wore a bright yellow jacket and carried a guitar slung across her back. She ran her fingers over the strings, sending a loud chord echoing through the hall. “Great. A bard,” Darkus muttered. “First you shatter my perfect graveyard silence with your yammering, and now you bring noise too? Draw your weapons and let’s get this over with. Either way, I’ll rise again. I'm a necromancer. I'm prepared.” “Exactly,” nodded the barbarian. “That’s why we brought a bard this time. Melodica, your cue.” “Fight must go on!” shouted Melodica, raising her fist and launching into a raucous song that made the cobwebs in every corner tremble. The spiders began scurrying about in confusion, trying to figure out if prey had landed in their webs. “What in the Abyss is that?!” Darkus cried, stunned. “The Queen,” said the barbarian solemnly. “What queen?” Darkus asked, bewildered. “Her,” the barbarian said, gazing at Melodica with shining eyes. “Isn’t she a queen? Isn’t she the hottest woman alive? That’s why I call her Lady Fahrenheit.” “Don't stop me now!” protested Melodica, her voice soaring. “I’m having such a good time—I'm having a fight!” “I’m sorry, my love. Carry on,” the barbarian said, smiling warmly. “Then let’s all sing together!” cried Melodica—and the entire group joined in: “We will, we will fight you!” “One more time!” Melodica shouted. “We will, we will fight you!” The skeletons began to sway and dance. The spiders twitched the webs like harp strings. Darkus could only stare, round-eyed. “I thought you were here to kill me,” he said, baffled, “not to throw a concert.” “Killing you is pointless—you’ll just come back,” explained Melodica, switching to a different song. “So we decided to offer you a better way to conquer the world. Our band, Scream and Thunder, has already toured almost the entire continent. We're raking in gold. But we need backup dancers—and someone to lead them.” She nodded meaningfully toward Darkus and his skeletons. “What?!” Darkus gasped—but he did glance toward the dancing undead, who seemed unnervingly coordinated. “Well... they do move rather well,” he admitted reluctantly. “But why would you need me?” “Without you, they’ll fall apart—literally,” said Melodica. “You're their master. You keep them together.” “They’re not acting like it now,” Darkus grumbled. “I didn't order them to dance.” “Maybe not consciously. Maybe deep down, you wanted to join them.” “That’s nonsense!” Darkus cried—but noticed, too late, that he had been tapping his foot. He quickly stopped, embarrassed. “And I refuse to be just some magical battery for your undead chorus line!” “Can you do anything else?” Melodica asked casually. “We could use a drummer, too.” “Well... I do have a decent sense of rhythm... I think...” Darkus mumbled. “If you want, we’ll teach you,” Melodica promised. “Or rather, Bloodsong will,” she added, nodding toward the barbarian. “And leave your crown on,” she added, seeing Darkus’s hand twitch toward it. “It looks badass. Totally suits you.” “Thanks,” Darkus said, visibly pleased. “Made it myself.” “So you’re crafty, too? Excellent. You can help us with stage costumes.” “Not for free,” Darkus said shrewdly. “I expect a bonus for that.” “Naturally.” “And are you really that famous?” Darkus asked suspiciously. “We are the champions, my friend!” Melodica sang with a wide grin. “No one’s ever called me ‘friend’ before,” Darkus whispered, eyes shining. “Well then,” said Melodica, “you’re lucky—because from now on, we always will.” Darkus nodded, a huge smile creeping across his face. Still, he quietly decided not to throw away his world domination notes just yet. After all, the backs of those pages would be perfect for jotting down song lyrics, melodies, and chord progressions.