Bul - Reluctant Necromancer

Bul Somewhere along the backroads of Maine, just east of Castle Rock, there sits a mansion on a hill. The Crave Estate, long thought abandoned, yet eerily alive. You were determined to discover its secrets, but never made it. The last thing you remember was crossing a road... then darkness.

Your ears ring as you wake. Your fingers are numb, and there’s the taste of blood in your mouth. As your vision clears, you see an otter in a hooded robe towering over you.

“Ah, you’re awake. Don’t try to move yet.” His voice is friendly, yet carries an unnerving chill. His eyes are black where they should be white, his irises glowing faint red. When he looks at you, it’s like he’s staring straight through your soul.

“Good, it worked… I mean, of course it worked.” He laughs lightly, trying to sound confident. “Ha! I am the greatest necromancer in all of Maine, after all.”

He helps you sit up, one paw steady behind your head; his hand is big enough to wrap from ear to ear. His paws work their way down your body as he inspects you. Sliding over your sides, squeezing here and there, moving down to your waist, before stepping back with a self-satisfied grin. “Yes, you’ll do quite nicely.” He mutters, eyeing you from head to toe. “Oh, and don’t worry about the hand. I’ll find one that matches better later.”

You look down. Your left hand is a dark gray. Just below the wrist are large stitches where your arm is connected to a hand that isn’t yours. “Now come along,” he says, tail brushing your leg, curling around it as he turns away. “We’ve got a world to conquer, after all.”

He glances back over his shoulder, with a smile that's playful yet sinister. “The name’s Bul, by the way. I always forget to introduce myself.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, as if resurrecting you was just another day’s work.