Gribble watched the sky darken. Arrows blocked out the sun. His yellow eyes gleamed. He raised a hand. The undead vexes and mini bat vampires flew up. They formed a shield above the Dark Legion.

Arrows hit the undead flyers. Bones cracked. Leathery wings tore. But the arrows fell harmless to the ground. Below, skeleton warriors stood still. Their empty eye sockets stared ahead.

Gribble grinned. He looked at the Beastmen archers on their towers. Their faces showed shock. Their first attack failed. Gribble felt proud. He used every part of his army well. The Beastmen now knew normal tricks wouldn't work.

He turned to look at the battlefield. A flat plain stretched between the Whispering Woods and the Beastman Kingdom. White flowers covered the ground. Meadowsweet, Gribble remembered. Their sweet smell mixed with the rot of his army.

In the distance, the Beastman Kingdom rose from the mountains. Its beauty would soon fade. Gribble's army would see to that.

He counted the Beastmen. There were more of them than his Dark Legion. Their cat-like faces looked grim. Gribble saw their muscles tense under their fur. Their claws were out.

Gribble thought hard. He looked for weak spots in the Beastmen's lines. He planned how to use his special army against them.

He raised his arm. His fingers spread wide. A signal to his troops. The Dark Legion responded.

A sound like no other filled the air. Skeleton warriors rattled their bones. Joints creaked. A howl came from nowhere and everywhere. The sound chilled the blood.

The meadowsweet flowers shook. An evil wind blew across the field. Gribble saw the Beastmen's ears flatten. Their fur stood up. Some young warriors stepped back. Fear showed in their eyes.

Gribble smiled. His army's war cry worked. It reminded the Beastmen that they faced no normal foe. His soldiers felt no fear. They would not tire. They would not stop.

He looked closer at the Beastmen's defenses. Towers on wheels held archers. The towers could move to where they were needed most. Clever, Gribble thought.

Behind the front lines stood huge catapults. Their long arms waited to fling rocks at his army. Gribble frowned. Those could cause trouble.

The Beastmen infantry stood in tight groups. Their weapons looked both old and new. Some fit their cat-like bodies in special ways. Gribble saw how the different groups worked together. He knew this battle would be hard. The Beastmen came ready to fight.

As if they heard his thoughts, the Beastmen attacked. The catapults creaked. Their arms swung. Huge rocks flew through the air. Some rocks burned, wrapped in flaming pitch.

Skeleton warriors in the front raised their shields. It did no good. The rocks smashed them to pieces. Bones scattered across the field. Flames spread through the dry flowers. The scene looked like hell itself.

The bigger skeletal warriors did better. Some rocks bounced off them. But direct hits broke even their strong bones. Gribble watched gaps open in his army's lines. For a moment, he felt doubt. Had he underestimated the Beastmen?

Gribble closed his eyes. He reached deep inside himself. He found the dark power he got from eating the Shadow Trent's heart. The power filled him up. His eyes snapped open. They glowed with strange light. Shadows danced around him.

The Grey Fur Beast under him shifted. It sensed his power and didn't like it. Gribble ignored the beast. He raised his arms. His fingers twisted into odd shapes. He called on his magic to raise the dead.

The ground shook. A cold wind blew across the field. It put out the flames from the catapult attack. Gribble saw fear in the Beastmen's eyes. Dark mist seeped from the ground. It wrapped around the broken bones of his army.

The dead began to rise. Bone fragments skittered across the ground. They came together like puzzle pieces. Gribble poured more power into them. The bones grew. They became bigger and stronger.

These new undead stood up. Their eye sockets glowed like Gribble's eyes. But he didn't stop there. The meadowsweet flowers wilted. Their life drained away. It flowed into the undead, making them stronger.

Gribble saw the Beastmen's spirits fall. Their hard work meant nothing now. His army rose again, stronger than before. The Beastmen realized they faced a foe that could not truly die.

Gribble gave another command. He pointed at the Beastmen. His whole army moved as one. Skeleton warriors marched in perfect lines. They crushed the meadowsweet under their bony feet. The bigger skeletal warriors led the charge. Their huge forms made a wall of bone.

Undead vexes flew above. Their ragged wings carried them fast. Mini bat vampires darted between the bigger undead. They looked small, but Gribble knew how deadly they could be.

The ground shook as his army advanced. Cold mist rose around them. It seemed like the land itself feared Gribble's troops. The Beastmen roared in response. They stood firm. Claws out, weapons raised. Ready to fight.

The two armies rushed at each other. The space between them vanished. They crashed together with great force. The sound of steel on bone filled the air. Skeleton warriors pushed forward. They ignored the wounds they took.

Bigger skeletal warriors swept Beastmen aside. Their strength shocked the cat-like warriors. Above, undead vexes dive-bombed the Beastmen. They caused chaos in the ranks. Mini bat vampires swarmed faces and eyes. Their tiny fangs bit any bare skin.

The Beastmen fought back hard. Claws tore through bone. Teeth snapped the magic ties that held skeletons together. Their weapons found weak spots that would kill living foes. But for each skeleton they destroyed, another took its place.

Gribble stayed on his Grey Fur Beast. He watched the battle from above. His magic flowed out. It raised fallen Beastmen to fight for him. The peaceful flower field turned into a sea of battle. White petals stained red with Beastman blood and dark undead ooze.

The sun sank low. Long shadows stretched across the battlefield. Neither side had won yet. But Gribble saw the tide turning. The Beastmen's numbers shrank. Their dead rose to fight their friends. Gribble's yellow eyes gleamed in the fading light. He knew his tireless army would win a long fight.

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The Beastmen showed signs of getting tired. They moved slower. They reacted late to attacks. But Gribble's Dark Legion fought on, strong as ever. His magic kept them fresh. Each fallen Beastman could become his new soldier.

Night fell. The Beastmen faced a nightmare. Their enemy grew stronger as they got weaker. The darkness made everything worse. Gribble sensed victory coming. He changed his battle plan to press his advantage.

He ordered the bigger skeletal warriors into a tight group. They made a moving wall of bone and steel. This wall pushed toward the Beastmen's lines. It worked well against the catapults. The stronger undead could take hits that had destroyed them before.

Gribble sent his undead vexes to attack the archer towers. The flying undead swarmed the structures. They moved too fast for the archers to hit. They clawed at the Beastmen, making it hard for them to shoot straight. Panic spread among the archers.

On the ground, Gribble used his skeleton warriors to find weak spots. He sent waves of undead to test the Beastmen's defenses. Each move made things worse for the Beastmen. Gribble felt proud. He had grown as a commander. He could use his special forces well.

Full dark covered the battlefield. Gribble's army didn't slow down. The undead warriors kept attacking. Their glowing eyes pierced the night. The Beastmen struggled. Even with their good night vision, they found it hard to fight an enemy that never got tired or hungry.

Gribble rode his Grey Fur Beast closer to the front. He wanted to lead his forces better. He sent wave after wave of undead at the Beastmen. He gave them no time to rest or regroup. The night air filled with battle sounds. Weapons clashed. Injured Beastmen yowled in pain.

The defenders lit fires. The flames cast an evil glow over the scene. They showed the endless tide of skeletal warriors. As the night wore on, the Beastmen's defenses started to fail. Gribble watched with dark joy. He knew victory was close. Soon the Beastman Kingdom would fall. Its defenders would join his growing empire of the dead.

The night attack showed Gribble's greatest strength. His army could fight forever. It would wear down even the strongest foes. Nothing could stand against the Dark Legion's never-ending assault.

Gribble felt a thrill as he watched his undead vexes swarm the Beastmen's archer towers. The flying horrors moved like flickering shadows in the firelight. Their tattered wings made no sound as they dove at the cat-like archers. Sharp claws raked across furry faces. The vexes' empty eye sockets glowed with an unearthly light.

Beastmen yowled in terror and pain. Some lost their footing and fell from the towers. Their bodies hit the ground with sickening thuds. Gribble grinned. More soldiers for his army. He reached out with his dark power. Tendrils of necromatic energy snaked toward the fallen Beastmen.

Bones cracked and shifted. Fur fell away in clumps. The dead Beastmen's eyes snapped open, now glowing with the same light as Gribble's vexes. They stood, jerky and unnatural. Their faces twisted into savage grins. They turned and began to climb the towers they had just fallen from. But now they fought for Gribble.

On the ground, the battle raged on. Skeleton warriors marched forward in endless waves. Their bones clattered with each step. Rusted weapons dripped with Beastman blood. The bigger skeletal warriors towered over the fight. They swung massive weapons that crushed bone and tore flesh.

Gribble watched a group of Beastmen warriors form a tight circle. They fought back-to-back, trying to hold off the undead tide. Their fur was matted with blood and sweat. Claws flashed in the firelight as they slashed at the oncoming skeletons. For a moment, it seemed they might hold.

But Gribble had other plans. He raised a hand, fingers splayed. Dark energy crackled between his claws. The ground beneath the Beastmen began to shake. Suddenly, skeletal hands burst from the earth. Bony fingers wrapped around the Beastmen's ankles. They pulled down with unholy strength.

The Beastmen's circle broke. They stumbled, trying to keep their feet. Skeletons rose from the ground all around them. These were old dead, long buried and forgotten. Until Gribble's power called them back. Their bones were brown with age, covered in scraps of rotted flesh. They fell upon the Beastmen with mad hunger.

Screams filled the air as the undead overwhelmed the cat-warriors. Gribble drank in the sound. It fueled his dark power. He felt it grow inside him, a cold fire that burned away all doubt and weakness. This was what he was meant for. To conquer. To rule. To bring darkness to all the lands.

His yellow eyes swept the battlefield. The Beastmen still fought, but their lines grew ragged. Gaps appeared in their once-solid ranks. The relentless assault of the Dark Legion took its toll. Gribble saw exhaustion in every Beastman face. Their movements slowed. Their strikes grew weak.

But his own forces never tired. The skeleton warriors marched on, heedless of lost limbs or shattered bones. The vexes swooped and dove, their raids sowing chaos and fear. And always, Gribble's necromantic power flowed. It knit broken bones back together. It raised fresh corpses to bolster his ranks. An endless cycle of death and unlife.

Gribble's mind raced with possibilities. He saw beyond this battle, beyond even the fall of the Beastman Kingdom. He imagined his Dark Legion growing. Swelling with the dead of every land they conquered. An unstoppable tide of bones and dark magic that would sweep across the world.

A commotion at the edge of the battlefield caught his eye. A group of Beastmen tried to flee. They turned their backs on the fight and ran for the distant mountains. Gribble sneered at their cowardice. He raised a hand, gathering his power. With a sharp gesture, he released it.

The earth split open before the fleeing Beastmen. A chasm yawned wide, blocking their escape. From its depths rose a horror beyond imagining. A massive skeletal form pulled itself up. It had the body of a sabertoothed tiger, but its skull was unmistakably troll. Huge fangs dripped with tarry black ooze. Its eye sockets blazed with green fire.

The Beastmen skidded to a halt. Some fell to their knees in terror. Others turned to run back toward the battle. But it was too late. The skeletal monstrosity pounced. Its huge paws pinned Beastmen to the ground. Fangs tore through flesh and bone. In moments, the would-be deserters were no more.

Gribble felt a surge of savage joy. The undead sabertooth was his greatest creation yet. A fusion of ancient bones given new, terrible life by his power. It turned its massive skull toward him. Green flames flickered in its eyes. It waited for his command.

He pointed toward the heart of the Beastman army. The monster charged. Its bones creaked and groaned with each massive stride. Beastmen scattered before it. Those too slow to move were crushed beneath its feet or snatched up in its monstrous jaws. It tore through the Beastman lines like a scythe through wheat.

Gribble spurred his Grey Fur Beast forward. He wanted a closer view of the carnage. It obeyed, carrying Gribble closer to the front lines.

As he rode, Gribble's mind worked on new strategies. The Beastmen were weakening, but they still fought on. He needed to break their spirit as well as their bodies. He reached out with his powers, touching the minds of his undead vexes. Through their eyes, he saw the Beastman leaders.

They stood on a low hill, shouting orders and rallying their troops. Gribble recognized their fine armor and proud bearing. These were the Beastmen's greatest champions. If they fell, the army's will to fight would crumble. He sent his vexes to attack.

The flying horrors dove from the sky. They swarmed around the Beastman leaders. Claws raked across eyes. Tattered wings buffeted faces. The Beastmen fought back, but the vexes were too quick. Too numerous. One by one, the leaders fell.

Gribble wasted no time. His power lashed out. Dark energy flowed into the fallen champions. Their bodies twitched. Bones cracked as they were forced into new shapes. Fur fell away. Skin turned grey and leathery. The dead leaders rose.

But they were changed. Twisted. Their once-noble faces now leered with cruel hunger. Claws grew longer, sharper. Their eyes glowed with the same unearthly light as all Gribble's undead. The newly risen champions turned on their former comrades. They charged down the hill, cutting deep into the Beastman ranks.

A cry of despair rose from the Beastman army. To see their greatest heroes fall, then rise as monsters... it broke something in them. Gribble saw it happen. The change swept through the Beastmen like a wave. Shoulders slumped. Weapons lowered. Some simply sat down, too tired and heartbroken to go on.

Gribble raised his arms high. He called on all his power. The air grew thick and heavy. Dark clouds gathered overhead. Lightning flashed, revealing the full horror of the battlefield for brief moments. Bones. Blood. Bodies. And the endless ranks of Gribble's Dark Legion.

His voice boomed out, unnaturally loud. It echoed across the field of slaughter.

He smiled.