Beware of the Ogre

 

 Mannik Gravemore head tilting back, laughed out loud as he watched the ghostly forms of former warriors terrorise the Ogre artillery. His ethereal hosts has swept through the battlefield with limited effort and had scattered the muscled brutes back to where they had come from, disposing their cannons on the battlefield like toys thrown from a babies cot.

A small squishy pop interrupted Mannik’s joy, turning to the left he saw that Gruber van Horseman’s body stood upright but missing one vital component, his head. Poor Gruber he was a fine comrade.

Pain, a sharp stabbing pain then shot through Mannik’s chest, his cold dead heart slowed, his head ringing with searing heat. Glancing to his right he saw his protégé Vernon Tattlevurt on his knees, hands over his ears, screaming. He sensed the magical aura fade from his student, his body returning to the ruddy glow of a mere mortal.

Almost as fast as it had begun, the pain vanished and Mannik’s sense returned, he quickly focused on the battlefield, all was in ruins, his spirit servants were gone; his recently raised zombies smashed to pieces, the battle had turned during the mere minutes his heart had sent him to hell and back.

"Whack" the Master Necromancer passed out, an ogre club knocking him unconscious, into the wet mud.

Mannik slowly opened his eyes, a blurry image, a face he thought he recognised, slowly came into focus.

"You have failed me necromancer" boomed the voice of Stradivarius, the ogres have moved their camp into our territory, and the capital is under threat.

"Forgive me master, they used some dark force to scupper my attacks, our powers were drained, I saw and felt things no mere immortal should, please give me one more chance, I will avenge you"

Stradivarius, though for a moment, a rye smile across is visage.

"One more chance, one more is all you get, and to make sure you don’t fail me, I have a gift"

The Strigoi Kings hands thrust onto the weak chest of the necromancer, as cold as the ice fields of Norsca, but instead of pain, Mannik felt warmth and what could be described as a kind of love; not love felt between a young couple, but love for the almighty god’s of undeath.

With this feeling the necromancer’s body, became strong, his muscles becoming bigger and more defined, no longer weak and open to an easy killing blow.

Mannik once again began to laugh, the Ogres would suffer for the pain they had caused him, but this time he would be prepared.