The 12th Legion of the Dammed

The man woke his head pounded the last thing he remembered was a pain in his chest, opening his eyes slowly pain shot through him from the right he could hear the cackling laughter “yes rise you accursed dogs” the man strained looked to the side as he did he slipped off a pile of something whet and sticky regaining his senses he turned to look on a pile of human flesh beside him covered in blood and armor limbs and sword sticking out like spikes in every conservable angle. Some were moving the man scream and panicked he looked at his hand it was pail as a sheet and coved in partially dried blood still sticky “yes look at your flesh once again imperial soldier, you are the accursed twelfth legion iron dogs whom are feared and betrayed by their own”

The man gaped as another stood and screamed “by the gods what sorcery is this” he shouted at the gangly old man sitting cross-legged in front of him. He wore a High Mages robes of gray, a small collar of red revealed around his neck identifying him as one of the very powerful bit a small tattoo of a wheel on his cheek signified him to being mad. His thin hair barley clinging to his darkly tanned skull that resembled leather stretched over a pot more than skin. His eyes sunken in and red ye behind them was a calculatingly cold mind that only a mad man could have, it was said that the more brilliant the mage the more insane he would seem to others.

The legion of dead slowly stood and assembled in ranks in front of the general who was now standing their lifeless eyes seemed to focus on the man whom had first awoken their general and the scrawny man rolling on the ground laughing madly. “Alright I bring you the man whom had us awakened and betrayed us to the enemy so we might die for the empire” the general spoke a murmur of anger rose from the ranks of the thirty thousand dead.

The old man cackled, “yes I did all that and more you are all a month dead, and behind the barbarian army”

“Why did you bring us back old man?” a corporal shouted

“Because you are going to be the salvation of the empire” he shouted so that all could hear “you are the holy undead legion lead by the greatest general of the empire Kenderlin Armsfolt. You will send panic through the barbarian hordes and slaughter them”

Kenderlin turn his undead eyes on the mage “you brought us back from peace to kill again!!” he raged his voice braking as the gash in his through opened he slammed his fist into the mans face shattering his nose yet still he laughed “dam you mage” he pulled his sword and advanced on the insane old man but a corporal grabbed his arm

“Sir he brought us back if anything he can put us back in out graves where we belong if we do what he says” the man was but boy barley twenty summers old yet held his temper better than any ancient one he had seen.


The general shook his head “very well” he spat on the old man who had rolled onto his knees his face split into a grin “we will do as you say mage but be warned if we are not freed from this curse when the barbarians are smashed we will cut you to pieced slowly and make it last a long time.” With that he turned to the ranks of dead that had formed with perfect discipline “very well we march for the horde” he looked down at the old man “keep up or be left behind” with that he started walking “forward” they began to march it sounded like breaking thunder.

“Yes oh great legion of the dammed go forth and wreak havoc in mortals lives” he laughed madly again and disappeared in a shroud of dust kicked up by sixty thousand feet on a forced march in the high heat of the sun baked pains.

“Sir they should almost be at the city gates of Encartia” the sergeant said as he strode by his commanders side

“Than we up the pace Gremmil, if we truly are the undead we wont need a rest” General Kenderlin muttered going to a stride in full battle armor.

“You heard the general you dogs of war were on the charge for Encartia” he bellowed, a roar of battle cries could be heard the army surged forward in perfect ranks.

* * * * * *

General Tulwin shook his head the greatest army the world had seen was a horde of bloodthirsty savages and they were camped at his doorstep, after massacring his long friend since childhood whom had been sent as reinforcements. “Gods I’m glad your not here Kenderlin I’m out numbered a hundred to one and I have civilians nearly a hundred thousand of them draining supplies like bottomless pits. My soldiers are green I’m in a logistical nightmare about to become a blood bath gods help us were not going to make it till the ships arrive there three weeks off and wed be lucky to last the first week. The imperial army is spread to thin once they take this town they will have the empire in a year”

“Those are dire straits indeed general” he heard a raspy voice from behind him and wheeled about to find a scrawny old man an insane smile upon his face.

“Necromancer Naail a mage from the great council” he muttered almost in aw “a diviner of great power, ware is your power source mage”

The mage laughed madness in it sound “dead along with thirty others, raising the twelfth took allot they didn’t wont to come back” he pointed at his nose bloody still and misshapen “see look what that undead commander did” he laughed again “oh he’s going to cut the barbarians down like a scythe to grass”

Tulwans eyes went wide “y…you took them from peace to deliver them to slaughter your insane!!”

The mage bowed “yes quite insane General” he laughed as he straitened “hold for three days, Kenderlin and the legion of the dammed will turn those barbarians into piles of rotting flesh” he laughed and pulled his robe about him and vanished into smoke

“May the gods have pity on their poor souls they’ve a bargain with a mad mage.” Tulwin muttered and shook his head

* * * * * *

The army of undead slowly closed the distance between the barbarian hordes, once in sight there ghastly wounds could be seen some barbarians ran others stood in shock. The Twelfth slowly moved forward in ranks General Kenderlin pulled his bronze short sword from its scabbard, like shadows a second later thirty thousand more were unsheathed and shields were raised. Then they began banging their pommels on the tower shields the sound was deafening.

The barbarians wheeled their troops around to face the threat, bows were pulled back and crossbows loaded as the undead closed in. The barbarian Warlock stood upon a hill overlooking the scene, he wore a simple bearskin robe over his muscular figure tattoos of ancient runes adorned his skin darker than his deeply tanned skin. A thick staff of brass in his meaty hands his head bald only a red beard grew on his face. He was thirty years old and never once had he seen such mastery of the arts as he gazed out over undead army approaching than looked at the general an imposing man seven foot tall and all muscle “we cannot hope to win” he spoke simply.

The general nodded “they would go this far to stop us… raising their own dead from the halls of hero’s” he watched as the undead army ceased its forward crawl just out of bowshot. “One engagement old man if we lose we retreat back home, Dekal!” he shouted to an under commander. The man nodded and turned to join the barbarian ranks a huge butterfly axe sheathed on his back. “Warlock, they fought and died honorably now it is our turn, let us hope they leave survivors”

The warlock nodded as the general disappeared into the command tent than returned holding a great sword he unsheathed it “You go to fight, you will die” he spoke simply

The sun shone on the barbarian’s shoulders “I couldn’t find a better day to die than this” with that he walked down the hill the battle just to begin.

The warlock watched as the dead charged forward their ranks peppered with hundreds of thousands of arrows. Yet still they came the ranks crashed not a single undead fell only the barbarian’s fell it was a meat grinder, the only way to stop the undead was to hack them to pieces, and that was impossible in their formation. The barbarian ranks began to crumble thousands dead within the first few minutes the horn blew and the barbarians retreated back their general dead. The undead simply stood as a white flag went up the barbarians were defeated and started breaking down camp immediately “it will be another thousand years before the barbarians will be united again” with that the warlock simply started walking east his home called to him

* * * * * *

Kenderlin watched in shock as the barbarians broke camp and simply walked from the field of battle. The man he had killed had a great sword that had shattered his shield on the first blow but he took the unbalanced barbarian with a single thrust to the chest he wore no armor. The last words he heard echoed still in his skull “I pity you imperials soldiers you cannot die” he sheathed his sword as the mage appeared in front of him.

His bubbling laughter seemed to echo, “good general now you and your men may know rest” he waved his arms the general’s eyes closed but before his spirit left him the mage spoke “you will be needed again General Kenderlin just you wait” his laugh followed the general into the Void and to the Hall of Hero’s where they were greeted by the fallen barbarians whom clapped them on the shoulders like comrades knowledge in there eyes of what was going to be.

The general simply looked at the barbarian general who shook his head in disgust “even your own do not allow you to sleep” was all the huge barbarian spoke with sadness in his voice. “you truly are a legion of the dammed” General Kenderlin simply nodded and strode through the great golden gates.