"Great, he seemed to believe it. Can we start writing now?"
Gripping his trembling hand, Morca barely managed to place the pen on the white paper. Due to poor control, the ink spread across the paper.
"Damn it! Someone take this paper away!"
The stained paper flew away into thin air.
In a mixture of fear and helplessness, Morca reluctantly wrote the first word.
"He wrote too slow, I fear he won't finish before he dies. Human life is too short. Should we kill him and turn him into a Lich?"
Morca immediately felt a rush of creativity and quickly finished the first paragraph.
"Hey, he sped up again?"
Probably, no novelist had ever written under such a crazed state. It must be said, Morca not only wrote but also wrote quite well. After all, when one's life is on the line, unimaginable potential often explodes forth.
Liches, such things are strange and varied, they look alike on the surface but, in reality, they come in countless forms.
