Crow sets out into the dark forest, his shadow goblins following close behind. The shadows are thick here, clinging to everything like a suffocating blanket. He push forward, driven by the thirst for more power, more undead soldiers to add to his ranks.
As they travel deeper into the heart of the forest, the sounds of battle echo in the distance. The clash of steel against steel, the bestial cries of goblins, and the agonized screams of the wounded. It's a symphony of chaos and brutality that sets my blood afire with anticipation.
He quicken the pace, eager to join the fray and prove Crow's dominance over the creatures of this realm. With each goblin he slay, his grow stronger, his mana swells, and his army expands. It's a twisted form of ascension, a path that only the depraved would dare to tread.
Shadow army
20 / 1,000
20 level one goblin
The shadows seem to part before Crow, as if acknowledging his dominion over them. His eyes glow with an otherworldly light, a testament to the power that courses through his veins. The goblins at his side grow more agitated, their undead forms trembling with barely contained excitement as they sense the impending slaughter.
As Crow emerges from the treeline, the scene of carnage unfolds before him. A group of goblins is locked in battle with a band of orcs, their weapons clashing and their bodies crashing together in a frenzied dance of death. The air is thick with the stench of blood and the cries of the dying, a symphony that only serves to fuel Crow's growing hunger for power.
Crow step out from the cover of the forest, the shadow goblins at my side. Before him, the brutal spectacle unfolds the hulking orcs locked in fierce combat with the goblins. These creatures seem intent on tearing each other apart with their bare hands, their crude weapons mere extensions of their primal fury.
The orcs are massive, towering over the goblins and dwarfing even my shadow soldiers. They swing their axes and clubs with a savagery that speaks to their barbaric natures. Goblins are sent flying, their frail bodies crushed under the onslaught. Yet the goblins fight back with a desperate ferocity, tearing at the orcs with jagged claws and rotten teeth.
He watch the battle unfold with a grim satisfaction, his eyes glinting with the promise of power.
The battle between the orcs and goblins rages on, a brutal display of savagery and desperation. The orcs' superior strength and size prove too much for the goblins to overcome, and one by one, the smaller creatures fall beneath the hulking brutes' onslaught.
As the last goblin crumples to the ground, the orcs turn their attention to Crow and his shadow soldiers. They sniff the air, their nostrils flaring as they catch the scent of death and decay emanating from the undead horde. A low growl rumbles from deep within their chests, a primal sound of challenge and aggression.
Crow stands tall before them, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. He can feel the power within him, the dark magic that courses through his veins and animates his shadow soldiers.
Crow stares down the orcs, his eyes glowing with an eerie light. The orcs growl and snarl, their massive forms trembling with barely contained aggression. They can sense the unnatural power emanating from Crow and his shadow soldiers, a dark energy that chills them to the bone.
The orcs charge, their heavy footsteps shaking the ground. They swing their massive clubs and axes with devastating force, intent on crushing Crow and his shadow soldiers beneath their might.
But Crow is ready. He raises his hands, and the shadows around him surge forward, wrapping around the orcs' limbs and squeezing with a crushing force. The orcs howl in pain and fury, their blows going wide as they struggle against the relentless onslaught of Crow's shadows.
Crow's shadow soldiers join the fray, their rotting forms moving with a supernatural speed and agility.
Crow stands tall amidst the chaos, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light as he directs the shadows with a mere thought. The orcs are strong, but they are no match for the combined might of Crow and his undead army.
One by one, the orcs fall, their massive bodies crumpling to the ground under the relentless onslaught of shadows and sharpened bones. Crow's shadow soldiers tear into the orcs with a mindless fervor, their rotting hands ripping and tearing until the hulking brutes lay still.
As the last orc falls, a sudden realization hits Crow like a thunderbolt. He has grown stronger, more powerful than he ever could have imagined. The slaughter has fueled his dark magic, and he can feel the energy surging through his veins, begging to be unleashed.
Crow turns to face his shadow soldiers, their lifeless eyes staring back at him with a hollow hunger.
...Crow, feeling the surge of power coursing through him, looks down at the aftermath of the battle. The forest glade is now a field of shadows, the fallen orcs and goblins lying amidst the gore. He takes a deep breath, and the air around him seems to grow colder, more charged.
"Crow: Rise," Crow utters, his voice barely above a whisper yet commanding, "crow: rise and serve."
The shadows covering the bodies of the fallen creatures begin to writhe and twist. With a sound like the breaking of ice, 40 orcs and 50 goblins rise, their eyes glowing with the same malevolent light as Crow's. The orcs, towering and menacing in life, are now even more formidable in death. The goblins, smaller and nimble, transform into shadows that seem to dance around his feet, ready for his every command.