I used to have strings… what is the rest of that? Aktar being alone with nothing but his thoughts had him pondering for quite a while on this matter. Even as his skeletal body performed lazed task after lazed task for his black-robed master he continued to wonder. Even as he sat in darkness for hours on end, it was all he could seem to wonder. His mind had been consumed with this question. Time seemed to pass without consequence while he pondered.
How long had it been since his death? Days? Years? Decades? Those thoughts were secondary yet to the obsession with the verse. I used to have strings…
Before his demise he was a great warrior in his time. Killing countless men, slaying countless beasts, lusting after countless women. Aktar the Butcher they had called him. Occasionally Aktar thought back on those days in fondness, however he soon found himself pondering the verse again, no matter how often he remembered the good old days.
The Butcher has come to kill us all, whispered a mocking voice in his head. I’m shaking in my boots. Those shards had always come and gone, they never stayed for very long though. I used to have strings… hmm…
Through his haze Aktar saw his master performing a ritual over his table. He had a troubled

look on his round face. He kept saying the words “Climb down” and “Just die.” It didn’t seem to concern Aktar. So he went back to his pondering.
Soon after Aktar began to worry about the verse and it’s significance, his master began to scream. It looked as though he was in pain. Aktar was not given verbal command to help him. So he thought it best to wait.
A purple light flashed from the necromancers table. So it had begun. And The Butcher was awoken. Aktar began to see all the mistreatment he’d had over the years while enslaved to this necromancer. He’d be humiliated, bullied, beaten. But worst of all, the wizard hadn’t even used him for what he did best. Perhaps, I ought to show him.
If dust made noise, Aktars’ new voice was that sound. Nonetheless he made his point as he reached for the nearby arming sword.
“I used to have strings but now I’m free…” The necromancer looked back with a mixture of fear and shock. “There are no strings on me.”
The blade was struck against him time and time again. Almost like clockwork. The necromancers cries were auditory for the first few strikes. But he soon passed out due to the pain. Slightly later he died from his wounds. After he was sure the wizard was dead, Aktar discarded the sw