He waited silently for a few seconds until the doors swung forward silently on perfectly oiled hinges. While the hinges upon the Dark Lord's door were perfectly silent, others seemed almost to be designed to create the most ominous of noises. He stepped into the suffocatingly lightless room, well it would be to most humans where as Crow found it perfectly suitable. He found most things to be perfectly suitable. Negative forty degrees? Perfectly suitable. Complete lack of light by which to see? Perfectly suitable. He shook the thoughts from his head when Gammon spoke, first appearing hostile but then friendly as he realized it was Crow. Crow nodded to the man in respect, one of the few human emotions he still seemed to have, then sighed as the man swept his lecherous gaze up and down his dead body. Disgust was one of the many emotions he no longer felt, so few of the Dark Lord's quirks troubled him. After all, how could one be disgusted by something when they were just about as disgusting as a corpse? More or less exactly in Crow's case.
"Glad to be of such convenience my Lord." Even his voice sounded dead and hollow. "If you're referring to the war effort, everything is moving ahead of schedule. As for my personal health... Well I'm still dead, so not to bad." At this, the woman in chains eyes widened, but only for a moment. Obviously she hadn't expected one of Gammon's generals, the Lich himself no less, to appear so... young. At Gammon's quip concerning his memory, Crow drew out his black leather book and quickly underlined "Gammon's doing. Conspiracy." and replaced the book. Gammon probably knew everything he had in that book, but it mattered little. To him, it was likely a game. "Little trouble, seeing as I have none my Lord."
Crow stood as still as a stone as Gammon entered his "personal space" and told him of his "playtime". "I don't mind, so long as you don't make to much of a mess my Lord. The last one took a solid week to get out of the carpets." He frowned and inspected the floor. "Actually, there still seem to be few bits left." He knelt down and picked up what appeared to be... A molar. He shrugged and placed it in a pocket, depositing it directly into a box in his chambers, containing a number of various "samples".
"Just a few things to report." He snapped his fingers and a clip-board appeared in his hands, along with a quill. "The Shading process has been nearly perfected. Whereas two months ago it required nearly four ounces of blood to turn a Shade, testing completed exactly five minutes ago confirmed that the process can be done successfully using only three drops of blood." He actually smiled as he said that. It had been a huge project, involving countless "volunteers", gallons of blood and weeks of effort. The final product however had been well worth it.
"We can now create up to fifty shades with the same amount of blood it would take to create one just two months ago."
He turned to the next page on his clipboard and continued. "Also, our previous battle was a complete success. Five hundred shades were created, along with three hundred undead. They are fortifying the valley as we speak." One of the shades clapped for a few seconds before realizing no one else was clapping, then let its hands drop. A newly turned one apparently, tended to hold onto some of their human habits and emotions for around a week or so. "In other news, my Death Day is coming up." He waved his hand in the air once or twice, party hats appearing on the heads of those in the room, including the shades and the chained woman, much to her befuddlement. They were, of course, black. There was confetti too, in the shape of little white skulls. They vanished when they touched the floor, almost like snow flakes did when they landed on your finger.
"You're invited of course. I think Eckhart said something about getting me something he called... "hammered", but I don't really think it sounded all to pleasant." He frowned and looked at the hand he'd knocked with. There were tiny indentations on his knuckles where muscle should be. "Not with my body as fragile as this anyway."
"Other than that, there's just the matter of your bride to be." He turned to a blank page and pulled out a quill, apparently to take notes. "Eckhart and I don't err... Really know your tastes my Lord. If you could clarify what we should be looking for, I'm sure it would speed up the search significantly." He sat down, a chair appearing behind him to catch him as he did. He could've simply pulled up a chair and sat in that, but magic was like a muscle. The more you used it, the more powerful it became. So he tended to use magic for just about everything, all to grow his power to even greater heights.