Liches!


A mail-clad adventurer wandered into one of the many crypts underneath the city, sword 
at the ready.  In the center of the small room sat a single dusty sarcophagus, with three 
closed doors on the wall opposite the entrance.

"Ah, it's a fine day for looting," the man said cheerfully.  Seeing no signs of danger, he 
put his weapon away and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.  "Gee, I wonder 
what's in this sarcophagus?"

Opening the sarcophagus, the adventurer jumped back in shock when the three doors 
suddenly exploded, revealing a swarm of liches.  Not one or two or three liches, but 
twelve.

Drawing his blade in a blur of motion, the man dropped into a ready stance.  "...damn," 
he cursed.  "That's okay, I'm level 40.  I can handle a few liches!"

Leaping into the fray, the adventurer fought tirelessly to hack apart the skeletal mages 
with his bastard sword.  He laughed off their attempts to use his fears against him with 
Weird, but the liches were surprisingly durable, and the endless blasts of Chain Lightning 
served to both irritate him and wear him down.  What truly frustrated him, though, was 
their maddening habit of casting Time Stop repeatedly without waiting for the effects of 
the last Time Stop to end.  As he sat through yet another period of forced downtime, he 
idly wondered how the space-time continuum endured such abuse.

Five swift strategic retreats and many hours of furious combat later, the exhausted 
warrior collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.  Standing, he surveyed the room with 
pride.  Shreds of withered flesh and tattered cloth covered the room, as if a tornado of 
death had passed through.  Peering into the open sarcophagus, the adventurer's face fell 
when he realized it was empty – there was nary a piece of loot to be found!

Quietly, a sinister-looking robed man wandered into the room.  "Well," he cackled 
maliciously, "if it isn't Frank the Fighter.  How are you doing today?"

Turning around, Frank glared at his nemesis.  "I hate you, Demetrios.  I hate you so 
much."

Demetrios chortled with glee.  "Yesss, that's what I like to hear."

Luckily for Frank, who could barely lift his sword, Demetrios seemed more interested in 
talking than fighting.  Resting his back against the sarcophagus, the adventurer gestured 
about the room.  "Why the hell do you have TWELVE liches guarding this tiny crypt?" 
he asked angrily.  "There isn't even anything in here!  And why do they only cast 
THREE spells?!"

Chuckling, Demetrios leaned against a nearby wall.  "Well, it was like this..."

----------

A bell rang as Demetrios stepped inside a large shop.  Looking up, the shopkeeper 
greeted him warmly.  "Welcome to Al's Discount Minions!  What can I get for you 
today?"

Demetrios tapped his chin thoughtfully.  "You wouldn't happen to have any liches, 
would you?"

The shopkeeper nodded.  "As a matter of fact, I do.  However, they are, like all my 
minions, discount."

"What do they do?"

"They cast Time Stop."

"Very nice."

"And Weird."

"Good, good."

"And they also cast Chain Lightning."

"Ooh, I always liked Chain Lightning.  Anything else?"

"...no, that's about it."

Demetrios considered this for a moment, then gestured broadly.  "Alright, I'll take them."

The shopkeeper glanced at his records.  "How many do you want?"

Leaning in close, Demetrios raised an eyebrow slyly.  "How many do you HAVE?"

"I have a lot."

"How much is a lot?"

"Twelve."

"Sold!" Demetrios exclaimed, dropping a hefty sack of coins on the counter.

----------

Frank looked at his rival quizzically.  "That doesn't explain why you had to put them all 
here."

Demetrios grinned.  "No, it doesn't. Ta ta!"  With a word and a gesture, the robed man 
teleported away, leaving the warrior alone again in the gloomy crypt.

Frank sighed and walked wearily out of the room.  "...I really hate that guy," he 
grumbled.