Vladimir rises...

The vampire Lord glided his hand over the beasts hide... Scales, flesh and bone exposed. The creature let out a deafening roar and spread its wings, tattered and rotting they may be. It could tell its master was pleased and his master had good reason to be pleased. The undead latests skirmishes had done well in Mantica. The Necromancers of his legions had done well and produced the highest quality zombies and Revenant, full of rabid anger and skilled battle alike.

The vampire Lord was young when he was turned, born into a Royal family and air to the throne. It was a still night at a Royal banquet in his house of grandeur. Food stacked higher then the highest mountains, drink deeper then the seas and colours brighter then the sun. Inside the smell of the feast was heavy, laughter was loud and spirits were high.

Outside the air was cold, the night was still and the sky was black. A vampire was on the hunt.. He saw the light in the castle like a beacon. He heard the roars of laughter, the smells of food and the pouring of wine. He made haste, he ran towards the castle and cut down the guards faster then knew they were dead. The door of the great hall slammed open, the great hall fell silent as they stared at the monster. Blood dripping from his mouth, his pauldrons of silver reflecting the many colours that surround him.

Then the chaos started, screams, the blood shed, the room so alive but for so different reasons. Blood poured as easily as wine, screams filled the room and the meat now ready to feast on for the vampire was for the taking. It did not last long before the room was dead, apart from one. The young prince, was not. The vampire was saving him for last, for his fate was worse then death. He had lived a life full of luxury, full of grandeur and full of entitlement. The vampire grabbed the young prince and lunged his teeth into his neck, but not to kill. The prince screamed and rolled in anger, to be left lying there in a pool of blood.

Vladimirs mind snapped out of the memory of when he turned as he sensed his Necromancer walking up the stone stairs to speak to him... He rotated on the spot and snapped at the frail man "What now?". Drakkil murmerred as if afraid of the vampire response, "Speak up or you won't speak again" shouted Vladimir.

"Our advances, they're being met with resistance"

Vladimirs eyes turned pure black, he slammed his fist into the wall shattering stone and roared. His teeth ablaze from the light of the moon, his armor shining as of angelic white. He shouted at the large undead dragon made by his Necromancers, specifically for Vladimir and known only by the beasts willingness to kill and loyalty to his master. "Go, Drak'Thul. Tell me what you see".

The beast lunged off the high tower and roared again, breaking the silent night and sending a warning to all those who hear. Vladimir turned to his Necromancer "Send reinforcements, I will not
personally be drawn out for such nonsense. Dispose of the enemies or reanimate them. Do not come back with any less then a slaughter of our enemies or you will feel my rage".

The Necromancer hurried away. The Undead amass once more and are ready for glorius battle.
Vladimir will not be stopped, full of rage and anger at the world he only sees glory in perfect bloodshed. His hunger for endless war will not be quenched until every last soul in Mantica is taken and raised under his name. Mantica will feel his rage and his name will be chanted by the souls of the living before they're cut down to be raised as his legions.