Refuse

"Fuck that," you say. "I'm not serving."

"Then I have another use for you. You're all powerful warriors. When I raise you again, you'll be good servants. Of course, for you to be raised... you need to fall."

Suddenly, the forces of undeath begin moving forward, weapons raised. You let out a roar, charging forward towards the Great Lich, before a row of bows go off, arrows thudding into your chest and head. You collapse to the ground, blood pooling around you as you quickly die.

Your last thought is that the taste of your living blood is probably only slightly better than dead flesh.