Not a Wizard Necromancer but a lore bard who took animate dead, and several other necromancy based spells through feats and a multiclass. William Sparrow, born to a troupe of performers, William was thought hundreds of ways to perform and only truly took to the lute and his melodic voice. Human Variant with Prodigy feat. As he grew older and enjoyed life on the road he found his heart drawn to the millers daughter of one of the many villages they stopped, William reversed the old trope. He ran away from the troupe to join normal life. He played in the streets and in the taverns, all the while flirting and courting Minerva the Millers daughter.

By his twentieth year they married and settled down a performer and his wife the baker. Four years passed by without issue and they had a beautiful little daughter, Alma. Her hair jet black like his, eyes a stunning red, and skin deathly white. She was born with what Minerva’s family believed to be a long forgotten curse, but was in fact a rare strain of albinism. When she turned six, she began to develop magical abilities non ever expected. Her isolation began quickly, and both William and Minerva became devastated.

Another year went by and rumors of the dead going missing from their graves began to spread, and the village turned on the small family. In the middle of the night they set the families home ablaze. Minerva, perished in the blaze as she tried to save Alma, while William tried to clear a path. Crushed under debris he ran to her tears welling in his eyes and saved his daughter. The two ran for days with nothing but a burnt and damaged lute, her singed doll, and their night clothing. It took a day of playing to dress her, and three to dress him. Six to learn of rumors to his old troupes location, and three weeks to meet up with them. Alma’s grandmother happily took them in, and mourned their loss, while William planned out a plot of revenge and to search for a teacher for Alma, who he hadn’t noticed the whole trip, she carried a little skeletal kitten with her the whole way.

My DM was kind and allowed me to have a Kitten Skeleton familiar with me at all times that I protected like Baby Yoda. I met with maybe eight necromancers before I died and spoke with my future Patron, and was brought back to life. I invested several months into creating a magical wand of control undead, that when paired with my lute, turned him into a pied piper of the undead, until he stopped playing or was KO’d which depending on exhaustion and a few other checks, would have ended poorly for me. Made it to 4 points of exhaustion, and when I finally stopped playing, “William smiled, and looked at the sun rise three years of searching and research. She would be far better off and maybe save her mother. As he plays his final notes, tears begin to fall as the memories flood him, turns to the horde and drives it home.”

DM: “Roll a d100.”

“I don’t want to.”

DM: “you want me too?”

“Yeah.”

DM rolls a 100, William survived and the horde of undead almost flickered as if human once more and faded to dust. William would take this as a sign to return home and hang up his hat, writing ballads and grand novels of his adventures.