Stomarim the Black drifted backward and took a good long look at his handiwork. For a rush job, it wasn't half bad. He'd had to leave behind the gargoyles and most of the garden, but it was a small price to pay for the peace and quiet he'd gain out here.
His cat, Scugly, meowed plaintively as he tumbled head over heels in the low gravity. Apparently jet packs were too advanced for even a very clever cat. Stomarim made a note to craft a collar of Fox's Cunning once the supply ship arrived. It shouldn't take much for Scugly to figure out very simple controls, and it would be nice to have him hunting space-rats.
Stomarim tested the oxygen bubble spell one last time and was pleased to find it still holding strong. This could actually work. He smiled and tucked the protesting Scugly under one arm as he gently flew himself back down to his tower. No more dealing with fractious goblins and troublesome trolls. No more elaborate dungeons and monotonous evil plans. No more adventurers showing up just when he'd put the kettle on, demanding his head for their troubles.
Stomarim set Scugly down in the doorway and the cat darted off to who knows where. Stomarim smiled and climbed the spiraling staircase to his favorite sitting room. He magicked another log on the fire and settled into his comfiest armchair. This was bliss. Perhaps later he would even get to read that chapter on thermonuclear immutability without interruption. His only regret was that he hadn't thought of this twenty years ago.
Outside his window, the drama of the cosmos played out. Time stretched and light spiraled to its doom. A blanket of peace fell over Stomarim's tower as it spun gently on the event horizon. Sometimes, even a retired necromancer could catch a break.