The struggle lasted for hours. The battlefield was littered with bodies. The air stank of corruption. A man walked among them. His robes, black in color, enshrouded his body as he walked the night. He surveyed the field, a field of bones and flesh, a flash of ivory could be seen deep within the cowl of the robe as he smiled to himself.
He knew that his lord had grown in strength this day. The figure began arranging the bodies of the slain, collecting pieces suitable for his creation. He uttered a few words in prayer to his dark lord, the Prince of Hate, and he went into motion. The corpse, lifeless before him, arose, no more a man, but an abomination, animated by the sheer will of the man and the power of his lord.
This day, the field was littered with bones and flesh. This day, by the dead and the dying he gave them honor and let them live again as his servant.
This day, he knew power.