The Undead Tourists

"Hmmm…" I hummed to myself, echoing in the dry, stale room. My fingers tapped onto the arms of my throne. I looked over my bony hand. Literally, bony. With no flesh within sight on my hand, it was a wonder how one could even move it. I moved my eye onto my palm; a slightly luminescent metal lay there. Though long decayed, my body had parts of it plated with an ancient metal whose name was even forgotten in the annals of history.

The room in which I sat was dark and decaying. The walls, once smooth and decorated, now lay scratched and falling. Cobwebs were common among the furniture as tables and chairs lay around disorganized.

Even with the apparent lack of a nose, I still had a sense of smell, just as I could perceive sight without eyes. The room smelled an unmistakable stench of decay. I was probably used to the smell or didn't notice it until now. Either way, the lack of ventilation in the general area was part of the blame.

Amidst my thoughts, I could hear light stomping and metal clashing with the stone floor; the sound echoed throughout the throne hall. A familiar sound, I turned to its owner.

A body clad in heavy armor, with its head partially covered by a large neck guard, approached me. Instead of a head of a man, all that could see was a skull. Like me, his body was a skeleton but had been plated. 

The difference was that, unlike me, who had the look of an iron mask that extended to two twin fangs on my teeth, his was odd.

His head had a metal skull that surrounded his temple; the structure of the metal stopped upon where his nose had once laid. What an odd design. Besides that, he had a menacing look, whose mere presence would scare the living.

His dark gray metal armor showed careful maintenance, yet even with such conditioning, marks from a hundred battles could be seen: a scratch on the side, an unmistakable dent from a mace on the other side, and more. Below his waist, his tabard protruded, then separated down along his leg piece. Along with his noble yet menacingly strong armor, he boasted a large two-handed sword on his back. Its hilt is of simple design, and its sheath hides a dark blade.

Contrary to how he looked, the voice he projected was carefree.

"Something wrong, Boss?" The skeleton asked me. He stood by my throne, laying his shoulder upon the back of the throne. This man is one of my closest advisors and friend, Uno. If anything, I suspect he was a brother kidnapped by a bunch of dull people because that's what he is - A boring person.

"You seem restless. Did you detect some invaders?" Uno asked me. When he mentioned the words' invaders', it triggered a domino effect. The other skeletal beings that slowly moved about started to spring up to action, picking up weapons, staves, bows, and whatnot.

"No... it's not that. I've just been thinking, that's all," I answered, not minding the band of skeletons gearing up. Saddened to find out that it wasn't invaders, the skeletons went back to their businesses. Unlike what most would think, the undead would return to their tombs or lie down in a corner; the skeletons went back to gambling, telling jokes to each other; one was even sculpting a statue, while another was busy carrying ingredients to the kitchen.

"Thinking? Boss? That's a bit harsh on you, boss. Wouldn't thinking kill you a bit?" Uno snickered.

"Eh... That's a bit harsh, Uno," I muttered.