"These are… Quite different than you are…" I started to explain what differences were between him and the ones I read about.
And the more I spoke, the more trembling his body became.
For a moment there, a faint red mist appeared from his body, before it vanished inside like he inhaled them back.
"This… My lord this isn't our race. They are the variations we created when we conquered any race. They are deformed and twisted souls, without mind to control, and only a vicious desire for flesh and blood."
"I can vouch for that," I bitterly smiled, "those ones are really vicious. But I heard such an interesting story about the presence of hope for your race."
"The den you mean, right?"
"You know about it?" I felt a little surprised when he said the same thing as my necromancers.
"Well, it's easy to guess. After all, for such deformed lowly creatures to be created, we have to leave behind a few of our people inside a huge den."
"What for?"
