“I hate my life!” I whined, trudging through the marsh alongside squad of zombies. Well know that I think about, I should say. “I hate my unlife.” I corrected myself, chuckling at the stupidity of the situation.

I was now literally immortal, stronger then any mortal alive and I could still whine about my situation. Yet it was not my choice at all to be turned into a vampire and made a lackey to a wacked out of his mind vampiric necromancer.

“I am a mercenary for for Illania’s sake.” I winced from that, probably best not to invoke the gods.

I am not very religious, but being unlife the Narveson Goddess of magic would probably prefer to smite me instead of answering my prayers. I needed to stop doing that, it was a habit that may prove fatal, carelessly invoking a Goddess.

She never answered my prayers before, but she may do so now that an unholy fiend was knocking at her heavenly door. I sighed dejectedly, wanting to complain to anyone who would listen and scared my sire would hear and punish me.

I knew it was a bad idea to join up with this crew. But it was such a good idea in the beginning. Working for nobles paid far better then merchants and warlords. There squabbles were also supposed to be legit, at least as legit as nobles could be.

Instead of making good silver working for some pompous perfumed Lord, I am now a vampire bitch to a mad man. Thinking back to the meeting, I knew it was sketchy. Being called personally by the lords necromancer for a job, only to arrive in his tent and offered immorality.

I mean it’s a good deal for anyone that didn’t want to die. But it wasn’t altruism on his part, he just needed to replenish his lost ranks. Apparently one of his fledglings got himself killed and he needed new recruits. I might add he didn’t strike me as a death monger that took no for an answer.

So, I have arisen from a lowly mercenary to a vampire mercenary who is under a permanent and eternal contract to his new boss. I wonder if I will get paid, probably in loot and spoils of war. I doubt he pays people he turns into undead, I am just like these poor souls, except I’m not rotting.

I looked to my zombies with pity, they were not living there best life. Well they weren’t living at all, but they were my men and I was to lead them. Even in unlife, I am a soldier, well a soldier for silver, but a soldier nonetheless.

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“Come on boys, stop taking in the sights, we have a job to do.” I announced, receiving a few moans and slow shuffling feet. They were not the most talkative of lads, but you work with what you got. “All of you sorry excuse for undead attend your illustrious and powerful vampire lord.” Ok I wasn’t exactly a vampire lord, but I was a vampire and a minor noble did knock up my peasant mother.

I suppose I could be considered a vampire bastard, but lord sounded better. But none of this matter to a bunch of soulless wretches like them, they barely understood words at all.

“Left, right, left right, come on lads hop to it.” I foolishly tried to encourage corpses, they ignored me and shuffled along.

Sighing, I tried to keep my positivity, but I was failing horribly. That is what happens when your life has turned to shit, golden shit, but shit nonetheless. Well, I guess it wasn’t all bad, I mean I could pretend to be a powerful vampire overlord of an army of darkness.

Casting an eye on my troops consisting of of a dozen zombies made from peasants and outfitted with axes, maces and I think that one in the back has a farm sickle. It wasn’t exactly an army of darkness, but they don’t care what I call them and so it shall be.

“Attend me my minions.” They were not my minions, but as I said, they didn’t know that. “Your master has bid you lowly wretches the honour of completing a task worthy of.” I paused waiting for the former farmer to reach us. “Yes, worthy of your skills.” Finally my minions had a arrived and so I explained the mission.

“We shall act as a harassing force, cut off supply lines and isolate our prey.” They stared at me with those dumb undead faces. They moaned a few times, so I suppose that counts as an affirmative. “Up ahead is a caravan loaded with supplies, we are to ambush them and eliminate them with superior numbers.” I counted them again and thought that last statement might be a bit of a stretch.

I mean a dozen zombies is not a small number, but if this caravan has anyone competent defending it. Things will get tricky, these lot where not exactly the best ambushers. They were slow and you could smell them from a league away.

“Damn you Kazmir, why couldn’t you give me some ghouls or some humans.” I whined, I found I was doing that a lot these days.

Well I had to work with what I got, but how could I ambush a caravan with this sorry lot. As I wondered, one of them got stuck in the marsh and started sinking. The muck was almost up to his knee. I quickly ran over and grabbed the poor fellow, dragging him out. He moaned a thank you, at least that is how I will interpret it.

“You idiot, you were almost completely submerged, you could have.” I trailed off, retracting my statement as he was already dead.

I frowned, inspecting the state of my undead soldier and a thought occurred. The idea just sprang to mind, drawn from the depths of my psyche, triggered by the sight of this poor wretch sinking below the ground.

“I’ve got an idea.” I beamed at the zombie, he naturally moaned in response.