In minutes, my ghastly corps had torn through Karak Varn's defenders. When the gates broke, I rushed in with ethereal cavalry, immune to normal weapons and equipped with scythes that bypassed even the sturdiest armor. They rarely break ranks or flee in terror no matter how ferocious their opponent.
When the battle started, I surrounded my enemy's commander with Vargheists-monstrous, man-eating bats-and sent battering rams for the gates. Siege engines ready, and carried yon by fresh Dwarfen zombies, I steeled my undead warriors for the final assault. After each clash, I wrenched the newly dead from the earth and added them to my fiendish, Vampire hordes. I held my siege for weeks, and while my foes’ numbers dwindled, mine grew. The Dwarfs, hardy and resilient though they may be, were a thorn for my new allies, the green-skinned Orcs and goblins. I sought the Dwarfen capital of Karak Varn. These were the first notes of my invasion. Screeching gears, rhythmic boot steps, and the soft crunch of fresh snow.
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