A Chronicle of Undeath
For the first time in decades Johann von Carstein could sit up in his black coffin. The musty smell of his subterranean crypt filtered through to his dim senses. Slowly he began to recall the reason for all this, the reason why he and his brother had been lying here for so long...
* * *
The year 2010 was a glorious year. Vlad von Carstein’s wars upon the Empire had begun, and Johann had commanded a huge undead army, together with his brother. They had cut a trail of destruction through the small villages and towns of the Empire. Every victory added fresh troops to their ranks. There were no defeats. The name of von Carstein was whispered in terror in peasant huts. It would be used to frighten children for years to come. But it couldn’t last.
At a time when the pair’s army had reached its peak, Vlad ordered the assault upon Altdorf. As Johann’s memories became clearer, he recalled fighting his way toward an Empire hero. His brother on the right of him, he had stalked through the fray like a knife through butter. But as he reached his target, he heard a scream that pierced even his unnatural heart. Johann shuddered to remember his brother’s death, even now. The horrible sight of a shining Runefang lodged in his sibling’s heart would remain with him for his entire unlife. He would have slaughtered everything around him, but Vlad ordered a respite while the weak human cattle retreated into their battered city.
That night, the fabled Carstein ring was stolen. Vlad ordered a rash assault upon the walls. Seeing his chance for revenge upon the rebellious fool that murdered his brother, Johann waded furiously into the mass of human bodies opposing him.
He knew the memory of his ‘death’ was close at hand.
Hard he fought that night, but the climax of the battle was disastrous. As Vlad von Carstein fell, truly dead at last, the Undead retreated. Johann escaped, most of his army intact, but his skilled necromancer, ancient beyond count, had finally succumbed to the Dark magic he used. Johann recalled laughing. It had not mattered to him. From one powerful subject to another, the wraith made the perfect champion for his troops.
He had not fled with the remaining Vampires. Leaving the other counts to argue amongst themselves, he had continued to attack towns and villages in his berserk fury. Eventually the Empire armies cornered him, in a small wood. Their skirmishing archers shot his skeletons down and disappeared before they could respond. He had left his unit in order to move quickly through the dense undergrowth. The uncoordinated skeletons tended to trip over branches and fall apart. After many hours of playing cat and mouse, he had come face to face with a regiment of handgunners. If they had hesitated, maybe he would be alive now. As it was, their fear gave them strength and the thunderclap of handguns filled his ears. The searing heat of metal slugs filled his body, and he fell. The wraith buried him with his brother. The last words he heard for decades rang in his ears, as the wraith whispered, "You will live again."
* * *
And now he did. Briefly he wondered how the wraith had raised him, but his wandering hand found the familiar hilt of his red-stained sword, and it did not matter.
* * *
He found the wraith standing outside the caves, who introduced a necromancer, his ‘apprentice’. It was this student who had raised him from the dead.
"Great master, I humbly beg to serve in your army. I can provide invaluable services," the necromancer intoned.
How could Johann refuse? He could not raise an army himself, and this man would provide valuable information on the region that he no longer knew.
* * *
Five days later, he had succeeded in raising an acceptably powerful army. The necromancer had led him to a Banshee, and now he returned to his crypt in order to summon more of the squeaking hordes of bats. He had no problems calling the bats of the crypt to his command. They remembered the Carsteins.
He had been forced to fight his way through an army of dwarves blocking the way, but they could not halt his progress. They had not grown slack, however. It was a hard battle indeed to fight. His new necromancer had performed admirably, combined with the wraith and a unit of skeletons wiping out the enemy general’s unit. The dwarves certainly hadn’t lost their grasp of technology. They had a terrible machine, akin to a five-barrelled cannon. Fortunately it misfired after crushing relatively few skeletons. He would have to keep an eye on this dwarf army. They were formidable foes.
"It is time to rise. The name of von Cartsein will soon be whispered in terror once more."
The world trembles