Something I wrote a looooong time ago, for this contest on an online game of mine, never submitted it but here it is. Won't really have any relevance to anyone who hasn't played the game but I decided to throw it on here anyway. Enjoy(or not, as your prerogative goes)
First we kill them, then we raise them.
That was the creed of the Undead Legion. They were an unstoppable force, for with every enemy they killed, the Legion grew.
This battalion of Lord Zamorak's army was led by General Vazerka, or as he was more commonly known, the Bloodspiller. He was perhaps the most fearsome thing not alive on the face of Gielinor. And as he surveyed the bloodstained battlefield, the Bloodspiller knew it.
As he strode across the battlefield, a fleeing soldier, driven insane by the horrors he had witnessed, his cheeks caked with the blood of his brethren, ventured into the Vazerka's path, and as he beheld the horrifying sight of Vazerka's 7 foot tall skeletal body, wielding a flaming battleaxe, his eyes widened in terror.
Needless to say, it was the last thing he ever saw.
As he walked on, Vazerka mused, “My warriors do not bleed. I may have just delivered justice. How ironic."
He paused as he saw a mounted knight lead a small company of soldiers towards him. Vazerka smiled, as they surrounded him on all sides. The knight leading them said, “Die in the name of Saradomin foul creature!” As his allies growled their assent, Vazerka said, “I see the light now, I repent for my sins, will Saradomin forgive me?” The knight's face twisted with rage and he charged, swinging his longsword. Vazerka, his grin never wavering said, " I thought not." and swatted the human's sword aside with his bony forearm and plunged his battleaxe deep into the knight's neck, killing him instantly.
As the knight's body slumped down to the ground, Vazerka inspected his steed. He was a handsome specimen; white coat, lovely brown eyes. He looked around, the soldiers were standing stock still, astonished that their leader had been dispatched with such careless ease. He said to them, “You mind if I take him? A man's feet tire after a century or two." They did not respond. "I'll take that as a yes".
He mounted the horse and drew upon the power granted to him by Lord Zamorak himself.
The horse's eyes went from brown to black, black as dark as night. His beautiful white coat withered and the flesh underneath shriveled and burnt away, exposing his bones to the night. Vazerka looked to the soldiers again "Thanks.” He grinned once again, and as he did so the soldiers felt a chill around their hearts and they knew then, that death incarnate was smiling at them. They dropped their weapons and fled.
As the ghastly mount beneath him snorted, Vazerka patted his back and said, "Easy boy. We've got a lot of work to do."
His skeletal mount whinnied. Vazerka smiled and said, "I know, I enjoy it too."