It was a cool morning in Grin Hollow when Potabeau, now officially Mayor, stood at the center of the village square, beaming with pride. The voters had spoken, the zombies had voted (in their own unique way), and the eccentric campaign had somehow worked. His victory, however improbable, was now a reality. The town was his, and Potabeau had big plans to transform the quaint, sleepy hollow into a bustling hub of progress—though his ideas often veered far past the unconventional.
But as he surveyed the town, Potabeau couldn’t help but feel the weight of responsibility. The village, though filled with promise, was still mired in old, forgotten ways—its roads were cracked, its buildings sagging, and its citizens, well, half of them were zombies.
“Azrath!” Potabeau called as he marched toward the necromancer’s tower, his boots clicking against the cobbled streets. “I need your expertise. Grin Hollow is growing, but we need to move into the *future*. A future of *innovation* and *efficiency*!”
Azrath stood at the edge of his dark tower, his robes flowing like shadows in the breeze, adjusting a series of strange, mechanical devices scattered across the floor of his lab. As always, his presence was as unsettling as it was magnetic—he was, after all, a master of life and death, but also a lover of the knowledge that bridged the natural and supernatural.
“I assume by ‘innovation,’ you mean another project that combines your entrepreneurial spirit with my… darker talents?” Azrath’s voice was calm, calculated. He was already familiar with Potabeau’s odd ideas, though he never fully understood them.
“Exactly!” Potabeau grinned, leaning on a crooked fence post. “I want to improve the infrastructure of the village, get us organized! I have *grand* plans for Grin Hollow, Azrath. I’m talking better roads, more efficient farming, and automated labor! And I need your help. Not just your usual spells. I need a…*scientific* touch.”
Azrath raised an eyebrow. “Scientific touch? You do realize I’m not exactly an alchemist, right? My expertise lies in things... darker.”
Potabeau was unfazed. “No, no, no. You see, that’s where you’re wrong. *Necromancy* and *science*—they’re not so different! Both manipulate the world around us, reshape the very fabric of existence. Think about it, Azrath! You control life and death. Why not apply some of that control to technology?”
Azrath’s gaze shifted to the mechanical devices on his workbench—a set of gears, strange runes, and small clockwork automata that he'd long used to test the limits of his dark arts. Maybe Potabeau wasn’t entirely off track. Necromantic Science: The idea must surely be plumbed further.
“Fine,” Azrath said, after a long pause. “But we’ll need resources. A lot of them. And I’ll need all day access to the local graveyards for…
materials.”
Potabeau clapped his hands together. “Of course! I’ll make sure all the town's ‘resources’ are cordoned for your disposal! Now, let’s get to work!”
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**The First Experiment: The Reanimated Roadworks**
A few days later, Potabeau, with his signature enthusiasm, unveiled his first plan to the townspeople. Standing in front of a massive, unmarked stretch of road that ran through Grin Hollow, he announced, “Behold! The future of road construction!”
Azrath had spent the past few days in his tower, using his necromantic abilities to animate and enhance the workers he’d raised from the grave. These were not your average zombies—no, these were engineered undead, enhanced with necromantic technology. A series of intricate goggles were perched on their skulls, each zombie holding a pickaxe or a mallet, their stiff arms now moving with mechanical precision. Alongside them, a group of small, clockwork creatures scuttled to and fro, carrying stones, mixing mortar, and even laying down wooden beams with an almost absurd level of efficiency. Despite vacant eye ports, these smaller automata bore distinct biological *remnants*.
The townspeople stared in awe and confusion as the skeletal workers dug, hammered, and laid the foundation for what could only be described as the world’s first “necromantic infrastructure project.”
Potabeau grinned, his arms wide. “Behold! The future is here! With Azrath’s help, we’ve created a workforce that never tires! We can build roads, houses, and anything else, with maximum efficiency and no complaints!”
One of the zombies, clearly malfunctioning due to the complexity of the task, began spinning in circles, hammering the same spot of road over and over. “Ah… well, there may be a few *minor* glitches,” Potabeau added, his grin faltering.
Azrath stepped forward, using a single raised hand to stop the out-of-control zombie. The mechanical undead froze, its gears grinding to a halt. “The issue lies in the enchanted bone stabilization. It seems your ‘workers’ are a bit too enthusiastic for their own good,” he mused, muttering some incantations to calm the spirits within the reanimated corpses.
Potabeau quickly jumped into action, offering his own fixes. “We’ll just tweak the gears! A little fine-tuning here, some darkly-infused metal there! What’s life without a few setbacks?”
The villagers, unsure of what they were witnessing, started to murmur. Was this progress? Was this a sign of impending doom? Or was it just another oddity of Grin Hollow?
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**The Automaton Harvesters**
Weeks passed, and the duo’s next experiment was more ambitious. Potabeau, with Azrath’s assistance, sought to revolutionize farming in Grin Hollow by introducing the Automaton Harvesters—mechanical creatures powered by both arcane energy and clockwork precision.
The creatures, a hybrid of undead limbs and metal bodies, were designed to pluck crops from the fields, water plants, and even harvest fruit with ease. At least, that was the idea.
When the first test run began, it looked promising—until the Harvesters, confused by the scent of rotting fruit, began to indiscriminately pull up everything in sight: crops, trees, fences, and even the occasional unwary chicken. It was pure chaos.
“Potabeau!” Azrath’s voice rang out over the clamor of clanking metal and squawking chickens. “Your ‘harvesters’ are devouring the entire farm!”
“Ah! Just a small adjustment,” Potabeau called back, trying to maintain his composure. “They’re not used to the...ah...*complexities* of farm life! A few tweaks and—”
Just then, one of the harvesters, its gears spinning wildly, started throwing entire bundles of carrots into the air. Another, its metallic arms locked in a permanent harvesting position, began to “plant” the harvested carrots back into the ground, upside down.
Azrath sighed deeply, his fingers twitching as he cast another spell, halting the frenzy. “This is a disaster.”
Potabeau shrugged. “Nothing that can’t be solved with a bit of tinkering and, of course, a *touch* of charm!” He turned to the bewildered townsfolk. “Rest assured, citizens of Grin Hollow, this is only the beginning. Once we get these little kinks out, we’ll have a fully automated agricultural system! Imagine! No more backbreaking labor for anyone!”
The villagers exchanged glances, unsure whether they should be amazed or terrified by the spectacle. In the background, the zombies continued to shovel stones into piles, oblivious to the chaos.
---
Though Potabeau’s plans to modernize Grin Hollow were often met with strange results, he and Azrath both knew one thing for certain: the village was changing. Whether it was for better or worse, only time would tell. For now, they had a road that *almost* worked, and harvesters that might one day figure out the difference between plants and chickens.
Azrath couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity of it all. For all the chaos and mishaps, the town was buzzing with energy. And perhaps, just perhaps, Grin Hollow was on the edge of a new era—an era where the dead, the living, and science would collide in the most unpredictable of ways.
And in that chaos, both Azrath and Potabeau were right at the heart of it all.
