"My General, we have five thousand rank and file soldiers ready for action, and the number is growing, what shall we do?" standing straight within a large room, the words of death tongue seemingly refusing to echo across the wide emptiness.
Banners hung from the walls and ceiling, emerging from a deep dark that seemed to extend far beyond what one could perceive, the walls were like everywhere else within the keep, constructed more black stone, as of currently, no material in the possession of the undead was greater when it came to building fortified positions, the architects had already erected entire mountains from it across certain spans of the conquered ocean.
And as of now, it was so great, that it was predicted that no stone greater than this would emerge in another decade, being so good that even undead ingeniosity would require many years before being able to surpass itself yet again.
