Surprisingly, this geriatric acquaintance was still very much alive. He had given Darrol a fatherly hug with arms that were a lot stronger than they seemed. Funny thing, his limbs also made a creaking sound, almost like dry wood. And when he scratched his head, Darrol could have sworn that the elderly figure was shedding bits of moss... Or maybe it just fell out from his collar.
When it comes to such cases of borderline druidism or other weird tendencies, Darrol has learned not to ask. It's best not to do that, especially if it turns out that these ideologically challenged people are working in the same goody-two-shoes guild. It's no use arguing with them because the chances are you have to deal with their nonsense every day.
"And look, he gave me a new lich staff", Darrol carries on. "Zacharias always had this idea that there are some sort of spirits living within random pieces of furniture and even wooden staves. Because of the wood they're made of, you see. In the past he told me that my lich staff was actually called Graham. It was just an ordinary staff, but this one is a litte bit more exotic."
Shira raises an eyebrow quizzically. This does sound a lot like druidic nonsense.
"And... Well, heh. The spirit that inhabits this staff is called Gormund, or so he tells me", Darrol adds and grins sheepishly. "I know it sounds insane, but it's a fine staff and I couldn't just refuse a gift like this. Apparently Gormund is a very energetic entity - and he hopes that I will like him!"
A fine staff it is, indeed. It might be that the old man simply has a convincing tone of voice, but Darrol can't help feeling energetic. According to Zacharias, this spirit called Gormund is young and eager to please. The scrawny necromancer does not consider himself a fighter, but for some weird reason he can't wait to get out of town and crack some skulls.
"Gormund also told Zacharias that I've got very soft hands", Darrol murmurs, trying not to chuckle. "Do I really? You should know, dear."
Darrol's good mood catches on to Shira as well; the academic couple spends a while joking and exchanging soppy pleasantries before Darrol sets off for a hunting trip. The new lich staff proves out to be very efficient in a fight. Before the day is done Gormund and Darrol have cleared out several ruins. When they finally make their way back to Britain, Darrol's muscles are aching, but he is quite pleased and so tired he heads straight off to bed.
But good gracious, what weird dreams he has that night. At the break of dawn the pale necromancer wakes up, his hair a mess and his blanket all tangled up. He feels a little awkward and his skin tingles. As he sits up he faintly recalls meeting a rather interesting character in his dreams. The young person was straightforward and, uh, eager to please indeed, in a manner of speaking. He had a strong grip, a pleasant voice and his skin was the color of... dark yucca.
Darrol wipes his face with his hand and warily glances at the lich staff that's propped up against the wall nearby. It looks innocent enough, but the flustered necromancer decides he needs a cold shower. And some healthy alone time with his lady friend Shira. Also, some moderation regarding his vibrant imagination might be a welcome touch.
Gormund, huh. Oh, boy. What nonsense. There really couldn't be a spirit living inside a lich staff, could there? And even if there is, surely it can't get out? Surely not.