Origins of a Revolutionary

[Spoon]

This is my attempt at some fiction. I wanted to extrapolate on Nicodem and his goals and try my hand at giving a compelling read. Enjoy!

"To most the very idea of the dead rising to plague the living is too much to bear. Those same people balk in revulsion when it is revealed that a fellow human, someone not unlike themselves, is at the head of these shambling hordes. However a select few find comfort among the subjugated dead, executing their schemes with an almost neverending supply of eager volunteers."

Nicodem smirked at this last sentence, finding a dark humor at the mention of "volunteers". He closed the small book he was reading from to observe his slovenly companion toiling at the fresh ground. Nicodem was the very definition of the aged gentleman. Of average height and stature, he had a never shifting solemn expression and a streatched and taught look about him that made him very much resembled the vulture which was never far from his side.

Nicodems companion, Mortimer, was almost the complete opposite of his current employer. Mortimer was a startlingly portly fellow with a dirty trench-coat and a large cigar which smelled faintly of mint. He provided the manual labor for his employers most common task, the exhumation of bodies. True, Nicodems ressurectionist powers could be used to have the dead climb from their graves of their own volition, however this particular body was special.

"I think I've found 'em govna!" Mortimer exclaimed, the loud thwack of his shovel hitting wood confirming his statement.

Nicodem stood, a slight creak coming from his left leg which was now fully clockwork, and walked to his companions side. Looking down into the hole he was pleased to see a large wooden coffin uncovered. The markings upon it labeled the person inside as a warrior from the Three Kingdoms.

"Perfect" whispered Nicodem. He bid Mortimer stand aside as he began to gather his magic.

Nicodem preferred warriors from the Three Kingdoms, as their dead were burred with their weapons. He believed also there was some spiritual connection between warrior and weapon, however there had been no proof thus far.

A soft green glow emanated from the coffin as a sharp thud was heard on the other side of the lid. Another sharp thud came then a hand broke through the lid. Out climbed a tall muscular creature, in life he would have been a strong warrior, capable and adored by his fellows. Now in death he was little more than a tool, a capable extension of his masters will.

"Gather your weapons." said Nicodem to the corpse, which obliged and picked up its dual katanas and climbed from the grave. "Were leaving, on to the next one."

Mortimer began to hum to himself a light tune which as they walked into the distance became a bawdy barroom song, eventually fading into the evening air.

The unmarked grave was quiet, the air still. Nicodem the Undertaker had gained another body for his ever-growing legion of undead. It had been like this for years, the slow and purposeful gathering of resources by a powerful revolutionary. From talents learned and information gleaned in the dark arts of necromancy he had made his place. Clawing tooth and nail through the whole of Malifaux, from its extravagant homes and ballrooms to the slums and sewers, he had found his calling.

Thus it would continue, until the Undertaker was ready to take his ideals out on the unknowing city of Malifaux and expel the Governor General from what Nicodem believed to be his rightful place.

The only evidence of mankinds worst fears, aside from the Neverborn threat, this side of the breach was an unmarked hole in the ground and some broken wood.

Edited March 2, 2011 by Spoon

[Absolution Black]

I like it! I am eager to read more (and I don't usually go for the ressurectionist fluff).

Thumbs up from me!

[Spoon]

Thank you very much, I am working on the next part now. Should I post it as a new thread, or as a comment here... I do not know protocol, I'm thinking new thread.

[Absolution Black]

New thread. Keeps it easier to find.