Cresting the hill, Edna glared at the unsightly hordes below as they glimmered sickly in the light of the new dawn. With a well-practiced flourish, she pointed Sleetbane to the sky.
“Dalsfveg!” She bellowed to the lone horse-bound figure protruding from the sea of reanimated corpses, “I warned you of the consequences, and yet here you are!” She stood taller in the saddle, silver hair whipping in the wind as if it had urgent business to the North. “And now,” she continued, her voice taking on a harder edge, “I am quite displeased.”
With that, she spurred her mount into the multitude of green bodies, followed in a headlong stampede by the Army of Nine Villages.
This, the last meeting of Edna Weatherspindle and Dalsfveg the Necromancer, was that of which legends are made.
-Excerpt from Tales of Edna Weatherspindle
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