Dark shapes walk through Mordimus' dreams tonight. At midnight, the mysterious forms converge, arranging themselves into the face of his beloved Kiana, the Goddess of Cruelty. "My Lady!" Mordimus greets her, trying to bow but unable to move. She laughs at his feeble attempt. "Many times have I appeared to you in dreams, Mordimus; yet every time you try to move. You are a dim-witted and slow learner." "I...I'm sorry, My Lady," Mordimus squeaks. Kiana stares at him silently for a few moments, her face a heady mixture of amusement and disgust. Finally, she speaks: "It is of no consequence. What is of utmost importance, Mordimus, is your inability to control your army. Savuk's rebellion grows. He seeks to destroy me." "I...I will not let it happen, My Lady," Mordimus says, trying to sound determined and strong. "I know of Savuk, and I know the location of his fortress. It's just that...well, the orcs...they refuse to attack him. He was a popular captain." "More popular than you, it seems," Kiana says snidely. In his dream, Mordimus swallows uncomfortably. "The orcs are hesitant to attack their own," he explains. "Their kinship runs deep." "I know, Mordimus. That is why I have found a new army for you. An army without blood ties, bereft of feelings or remorse. An army with single-minded loyalty to their master." "My Lady?" "You are to seek out the Necromancer, Mordimus. The walking dead will be your servants." "But, My Lady," Mordimus says, fear edging into his voice. "The Necromancer is a crazy old witch. She has not left her dungeon in centuries. She shares her legions with no one." Kiana smiles. "You should not give so much credit to the tales you were told as a child, Mordimus. Most of that which is said about the Necromancer is mere folklore, scary stories told to children at bedtime." "But why would she help me, My Lady?" "Didn't your parents ever teach you about etiquette, Mordimus?" Kiana growls softly, knowing perfectly well that Mordimus' parents died soon after his birth. "If they had, they would have taught you how impolite it is for a guest to arrive without a gift for his host. Bring her a gift, Mordimus, and she will help you. Bring her the dead." Credits: Hair by Koz