A spray of gravel clattered down from the ridge above, and I flattened myself to earth, hackles rising. The creature lifted its head as if to scent the air, lipless teeth parting in a silent snarl. I dug my claws into the grey soil, sending a soft snarl of my own after it as it lurched away over the rise. Where I came from, I was the monster. These pathetic rotting things should run from me. I gripped my daggers tighter, tail lashing as if to strike the creature’s head from its rotting shoulders.
I could do it. This place was paradise for a necromancer. The whispers of the dead permeated the air, and their bloated forms clogged the shallow waterways. Even the salt stench of the sea couldn’t mask the smell of rot. I tensed, claws tracing the form of a summoning circle. The ground pulsed like a heartbeat; the air chattered with the skittering of tiny insects as they fled their reanimated host. My flesh golem pulled itself from the ground and reared to its full height, horned head straining towards the empty sky in a silent howl.
I took hold of its massive head and pointed it toward the ridge, letting it scent its prey. The only thing to fear in this land was the dead. But the enemy was not the only one who could use them. I lifted my hand in a silent command, heart pounding. And then I hesitated, tail lashing my flanks with the sudden agony of doubt. There–there were the others, grey flesh on grey sand–more dead forms lurking just behind the first. Reassured, I smiled and dropped my hand. The golem lowered its head and charged.
The Risen lunged around to face us, fanged mouth gaping. “This one” it gurgled with the warbled voice of a drowning man. “Kill.”
The golem struck it full in the chest, its momentum carrying them clear across the hill. The jumbled mass crashed full into the rest of the approaching Risen. The whole mass of them went down like ninepins. I bared my fangs in a laugh and shook my head. Pathetic. They never learned. There was nothing quite like golem bowling. But I didn’t have time to stop and admire my handiwork further.
I sprang from the gulch, throwing myself past the brawling forms and into the nearby copse. Already I could hear the watery growls of more Risen as they converged on the golem, sockets glaring, jaws slavering for blood. I threw myself behind the cover of the brush, tearing frantically through the undergrowth while the battle raged behind me.
And finally, there it was: a shriveled little plant, its skeletal limbs drooping with several dark berries. I pulled them reverently from the vine, careful not to pierce them with my claws. Each one would fetch nearly two silver. As I deposited the last of them into my pouch, a triumphant howl sounded behind me, and I knew they’d pulled the golem down.
I sprang away through the undergrowth, tail bristling as a spectral claw missed me by inches. My years of wandering had made me strong, but Orr was their land. Those who forgot that fact were nothing more than corpses in the sand, destined to become the Dragon’s puppets–or mine. When I had a pretty pile of coins in my open claw, then I could indulge in such luxuries as pride.