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[Terra Brexiano]

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The Gris Gris was tight around her left arm, doused with fresh blood, her eyes steadied on the chicken in front of her. With the neck being stretched out, she could almost see the blood pumping through the vein of its jugular. She ran her finger along it gently, resting it long enough to feel the beat almost becoming one with it as it pulsated through her body. " You are a strong one." She said as she removed her finger and drew her dagger. The cemetery was different at night. The mist crept up like shadows waiting to pull you into their hidden depths, the air was sticky and hot like that of warm honey in the winter. Something about being in the land of the dead that lured you in, that made you think for a moment the dead were actually alive, and waiting for you.
The corpse was old, but not out of reach. This is what an animator did. Brought back the very being that had finally reached its final resting place. And here were the foolish humans who thought raising the dead and making amends would "make everything better". They were foolish. But an animator had the abilities to give the ignorant what they wanted, and they would pay a thrifty price for anything to clear their guilt worn conscious or gain worldly possessions, so why not?.

[Terra Brexiano]

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The man who sought her out was older, in his late forties. His shoulder length salt an pepper hair matched his well kept beard. His eyes were a honey brown and even glistened in the moonlit long since abandoned graveyard. His wife was buried here, along with two sons, one he barely knew. The sad, tormented look on his face said more than words could ever, the tears welling up in his eyes showed his grief. For a moment, just a brief moment, you could feel some empathy for the man. Unfortunately, all emotions fade away, so why dwell on them? His overly expensive fancy shirt was blue, not a normal blue, a bright turquoise. It was tailored to fit him, he was at least six feet tall and broad in the shoulders, and his freshly shined black boots gave way that he was not a commoner, but so did his offer. He stood on the opposite side of the grave, waiting, it seemed as if he had no where else to be. He could have stood there for days, just waiting. If he were to be something in another life, most likely he would be a tree. At the beginning of the grave the stone lay there half broken and cracked. If you looked hard enough you could make out the name, a pity humans must mark their burial grounds with reminders of who they once were. She looked up at the man briefly as he started to speak.
" How much time will I have?" He said with a shaky voice as he stared at the grave.
"Three days, maybe more depending on how you treat the corpse once it is raised. If all goes well." She spoke clearly, but in a lower tone then the man.
"How long.. If.. The.." He struggled with finding the "right" words.
"Corpse."
He nodded without speaking again.
"It is a corpse, it will be a zombie once it is raised. You have a few days, MAYBE a week. But not forever." Her voice was cold this time. She did not understand why it was so hard to understand, when the words were crystal clear. Staring at the man, she asked him once more, "It is now you tell me. Is this what you truly want?"

[Terra Brexiano]

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A corpse raised from the grave, if not a recent death, is decayed. The skin seems to hang from the bones like a curtain hanging from a rod in a theatre or atop your window. Maggots and worms and other bugs crawl over, under and through the remains of rotting skin and exposed tendons, muscles and bones. Their hair is fading, if any remains at all, along with the ever so expensive clothes they were buried in. You would think humans would realize it matters not what you are wearing into the grave, your lucky to come out with anything at all, barely your skin. When the body is raised, it remembers only the most recent events, good, bad, or in between. Their strength is intensified from the magics, creating an almost superhuman strength, just momentarily. The humans who request the raising of the bodies cannot understand until they actually see the soulless corpse for themselves. 
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"I am certain this is what I want, animator." The man stood as confidently as possible. A perfect specimen stood before the dark necromancer.
If he only knew what his new purpose would serve, the woman he was here to have raised was the very woman intent on killing him for his infidelity. He wanted forgiveness. Terra was ready to move into the next process of animation. All she needed now was a fresh soul to capture upon immediate death. Looking down the items for the act were set out neatly in the circle next to the grave.
"Your wish is my command." Terra smirked as she scattered the grave dust across the grave. Opening the almost corroded looking metal box, she then took the chicken in hand. Closing her eyes she began to speak.
 "Tagad ir miris viens pieaug un kalpot man, manas vēlmes un manas komandas. Jums pieaug šo brīdi un nogalināt šo vīru, kad es saku." She spoke as she sliced the blade across the jugular of the chicken slow and deep, allowing the blood to flow over her fingers like a peaceful stream in the spring. Slowly opening her eyes she watched as the grave began to shake and soon erupt like a volcano does on Fire Island. The dirt flowing down like lava, and the body emerging, staring at it's new master, ready to fulfill the desires of the dark necromancer, awaiting the words to finish the task set in front of it. 

**Translation of Latin words-
It is now dead one you rise and serve me, my desires and my commands. You will rise this moment, and kill this man when I say.

[Terra Brexiano]

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Terra shook her head, breaking free of the memory of the night she captured her first soul.
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Terra sat on the rotting log for what seemed an eternity. The sun had long since set, then made its way to it's final resting place. Like a child heading off to bed for the evening. Tomorrow it would wake and once again return life and color to this cold dull world. The hot moist air was heavy and thick, it wrapped around the statue like creature like a fur blanket in the middle of winter, if breathing were a concern, this would be the time to be somewhat worried. How long had she been sitting there? The time was raging and rushing, never dulling around her like the winds at sea during a storm. However, in her mind it was just then she just discovered the newly dug grave. A bold move from the knight, almost commendable.. But now after contemplating a well planned attack, Terra knew what she needed to do.
The snapping of a small branch caught Terra's attention, and she turned in that direction. Before her stood two creatures. One cackled loudly, the other jumping up and down pointing. "There she is! There she is!" And they both laughed harder. Their sing-song melody echoed in the woods as they continued their dancing and chanting.
"We felt you close!" The first imp spoke. "We come to follow your wishes.." The other said in a deep growl. Terra pointed at the grave.
"It is always better to give than to receive. Get it and bring it... We have much to do."