General Lee

"What makes a good lie?" I asked my current nemesis.

They, who shall not be named, struggled in their bindings. "I already apologized, do we really have to do this?"

A curt nod was all that graced them. My bobber barely bounced in the jar in front of me. There weren't any fish inside of it, yet my talent allowed for quite a few distractions. "The sooner you answer the question, the sooner you'll be untied."

My enemy groaned, "I didn't know you were saving the last cream puff." I gave him a glare that finally made him wilt. "Fine, what makes a good lie, right?" I nodded, still glaring at the bastard. "Little bits of truth?" He put out his answer.

I squinted at the man, before sitting back on my comfy seat. "This body was craving it, you know. It has a bit of a sweet tooth." A huff escaped my lips, while I continued to watch the lure bob in the jar.

"I didn't know," They cheated by softly saying it. Their tone of voice was all too familiar for when we had our little spats. "I was close though, wasn't I?"

My lips turned into a pout, as I graced him with another nod. "What makes a good lie, is that someone has to believe it. It doesn't matter what you say, or how far out there something is. A lie isn't a lie, unless someone, somewhere, believes in it."

"Makes sense to me, why are you bringing this up?" He looked over at the guard standing at attention with a blank look on his face.

"To him, we're discussing what to do next. Like an illusion, thanks to my talent. Just like everyone else, they think we have a chance of winning this. I'm glad we came here though, even though our loss is guaranteed." I pulled on my fishing rod, pulling out a tiny dragon.

"Wait, you knew we were going to lose? Why did you volunteer then?" My lover turned enemy asked. Jerk that he was.

"We fought the King of Eclipse and barely escaped with our lives, you should know the answer to that. The most important thing before any confrontation is to know your enemy." I laid back, "Oswald is dead." Those words made my talent light up, telling me it was a lie. 'Misinformation' spread for some purpose I didn't know. Where was Oswald? "The Count is dead." It happened again. The right and left hands of this demon king were not sitting idle.

He was silent as he thought about what I said, "Your talent is too powerful." He said, the same comment added to the pile I've heard countless times now. "I hate it when you don't inform me about these things."

"You have a terrible poker face. I need everyone to believe this is their chance. Only idiots would jump at this opportunity. We both know what the Seer said, that a famine is coming. As always, we just send the expendable idiots out to die. I'm just happy we got nobles involved, fewer nobles, fewer banquets and feasts for their 'honor.'" I spat out the word, half of them wouldn't know what the word meant if it bit them on the ass.

"That's why you were okay with them breaking the army up?" He wiggled in his bindings, while the tiny dragon flew around the pot. A pawn, just as the six other dragons were. Arrogant creatures that thought I wouldn't know they slipped into our formation.

"We don't need traitors or barbarians in our army. Let the king's left hand bleed them for every ounce of blood. Charles is in our formation, moving among our troops. He's watching, waiting for us to push deeper. How do we win a game we know that we'll lose?" I looked at the tied-up man.

"Don't play?" He asked, unsure of the answer himself.

I graced the bastard with a smile, "Yes, that is one way. The other is to change your conditions for winning. Let the idiots die out here, then take those that are strong and loyal with us. I learned something very important today."

"What's that?" He smiled, probably happy to see me smiling his way. Idiot that he was.

"If we had been alive around this time, we would have become vampires. Our soul clones have infiltrated the vampire legion, we got to talk to one of their leaders. More like a babysitter, if I'm being honest. This is the first conflict in our one hundred years that we survived. Darn shame I don't have a cream puff to celebrate." I showed my teeth to my lover.

He laughed, then cracked his neck. "I'll get you more when we're home. What's our plan?"

"Continue to throw the useless people at the enemy, secure enough food for us to march back through the landbridge, even after stopping by Fis'Ton. Charles is trying to show us what a Hivemind can do, we might as well try and capture the Queen. We'll leave within a week, then arrive there roughly in a month and a half or two months. Might be quicker if we force them to go faster." I walked over to sit on his lap, letting him suffer. He'd want to put his hands all over me, but he was bound. As enemies should be.

Iron Gray

Blood splattered on the ground with every twitch of my muscles. My helmet affixed with barbs keeping it in place. Enemies were routed, they were chased and slaughtered with abandon. The initiates held no sympathy for those of the Yellow Corps. Bloodsoaked rubble was shot at their vitals. Their aura stopped the magic but not the momentum.

Every strike from the initiates was met with countless others. Swords, spears, daggers, the tools of war. The fundamental weapons that my platoon carried. Our knowledge of the different forms of battle rapidly accelerated thanks to each blow. How to properly block with a shield or spear. The varying forms of the Green Corps showed off their tainted magic as they mixed martial arts with such.

As our enemy pushed, we pulled. Moving and stretching their lines while others set up to flank and surround them in skirmishes. Buildings collapsed behind those of them in the front, cutting them off from help as we struck before the dust even settled. The giants that died were broken down and made into armor that was lighter and more sturdy than the metal our enemy used.

There was no need to limit the usage of blood here on the frontlines. There was always more of it, there was no time for sleep in this mad storm. "You shall die by my blade!"

Another fool's life was cut short, as a tendril of blood gripped one of the weapons and severed their jugular. A spray of crimson, the thud, followed by their final moments as they bled out. It was a quick death, as painless as I could manage. A part of me felt sorry for those I couldn't guide gently to their final rest. "Raul! I will avenge you!" A woman cried out over the sea of clashing metal and sparks of magic.

She was probably his lover, even as she managed to block the tendril cutting towards her neck. Her smile for such a small triumph was short-lived, as blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes went wide, as her heart was pierced by a spear. "Monster." She mouthed, clutching at the part of her chest that was staining her shirt.

Every shade knew the anatomy of humans all too well by this point. We saw their armor and learned the tricks for striking to overcome such. An order was sent for the initiates to fall back, as the enemy pushed forward. I moved the tide of blood with each step, my bodies either making more of ourselves or helping the troops.

The thralls provided cover for their retreat, while I picked up the cyclops weapon. The young one asked me to avenge its friend, giving me memories of the one that killed them. I tossed her to one of the initiates before teleporting among the enemy lines. My claws glinted in the cold light of the moon. The sound of metal giving to a terrible blow. The groaning of those struck with crippling wounds. It was human nature to pull the wounded off the field of battle. I allowed it, as it meant there were fewer of those able to fight. Even as this body was lost, I simply moved to another.

My life expectancy could be measured in hours for each new body made. Just long enough to get a single teleport per rotation, out to the field of battle. If it lived long enough it'd have another chance to use one more. The metal helmet that made my mask came hurtling towards me as my previous head exploded. The blood and gore were cleaned off through magic as I donned it in front of the enemy. Their faces twisted in despair as they questioned how many more times I could do this.

There was no satisfaction for the enemy to be had, as the pattern was clear. They would push, and the buildings would fall. Their front lines would die, either to us or the buildings crushing them. They stopped using their catapults when they realized we were using the damaged buildings as barricades and traps. I did not allow them to rest, as my platoon would soon be switched out with fresh members, all of them gaining experience.

Drums were starting to play, as a proud orange banner marched forward. Relief flashed on the faces of my enemies, then I did what I always did when a banner was up in the air. Blood flowed into the corpses before they were thrown at the gaudy things. More than a few exploded as magic hit them, only for the crimson to stain the banner. None could stop such a basic display of magic. Then the field hit me, one that nullified magic, their repost for staining them with the blood of their allies.

I let the others continue falling back as I tore my helmet off. The barbs cut deep gouges in my flesh letting them see my black blood and the smile I gave them. The fools watched as I walked over to one of their swords and picked it up before them. With a flick of my wrist, the blade was clean once again. Shouting was heard over the drums as the armored inquisitors yelled for the soldiers to make way.

It was a waste of their time, sending promising warriors to the front to slay the one that insulted them. "Who dares stain our coat of arm!?" One of the bigger humans screamed. Four knights in black armor stood beside him. Their weapons were different, the runes proudly displayed. One held a large ax, the other a sword that was entirely too big. While the smaller two carried a lance and sword respectively. Their duty was clear as they were supposed to guard the man in silver armor.

I pointed my sword at the blubbering idiot, then used my thumb to draw a line across my neck. A declaration, a promise. A second body was moved to one of the buildings outside the range of their null-zone. There was much their null magic didn't stop. From my communication with my bugs, and the blood I could burn within my body to speed myself up. The VIP's face went red at my gesture, his large mouth opening to scream, "KILL THAT DISGUSTING THING!"

The null-zone didn't stop the runes from doing their thing, as the lancer moved with impressive speed towards me. Gliding over the battlefield, based on the streaks of gore moved from their path as if a wedge was in front of them. I pointed my sword at their chest, letting them come closer. Then accelerated my body, one clawed hand gliding along the edge of the weapon while my sword went for their neck.

A blast knocked me away, my hand missing with only a stump remaining to the smug satisfaction of the large one. I sent out a request for more bodies to the other shades. Even as the large sword wielder moved with the same speed as the lancer. Trained warriors that had practiced with each other. The runes on the sword glowed with unfamiliar magic, forcing my body to dodge. I was unharmed, while the other two continued to approach in a formation to surround me.

The large sword wielder followed through with his attack, stone fragmentation blasting out from the impact. The lancer jumped off the man's wrists attacking me from above. It wasn't as impressive as it should have been, given he could only fall so fast and the runes didn't aid that. It was meant to be a distraction, however, as the bigger swordsman went to cleave me in half. I ducked under the strike, launching forward at knee height. I didn't need to be elegant.

Even as I saw the lancer land on the flat part of the man's blade, pure trust that the lancer would protect the bigger man if he provided something for the lancer to stand on. Unfortunately for them, the eyes on my body weren't the only ones I used to observe the situation. I avoided the lance by turning my body without looking. The shaft was also runed metal, making it impossible to break. I dug my blade into the sword wielder's knee.

There was a pained grunt, as the lancer quickly pulled back their weapon and struck again. Another glance blasted me away from the two of them. My sword twisted, while I used my stump and feet to skid atop the gore towards a few more bodies. My ribs were fractured, my legs unsteady, even as I continued to grip the hunk of metal. Lancer moved first, the bigger of the two slowed by my attack. I tossed the hunk of twisted metal at the line they were making straight towards myself. It forced them to tilt to the side, giving me a chance to dodge into the bodies and find a dagger.

What was the point of making armor that allowed them to move fast when they couldn't perceive and react that quickly? Lancer moved forward again, as my stump caught the collar of a shirt and tossed the body in front of the blow. A small explosion of compressed air blasted the body into pieces as I used the cloud of gore to spin with the force and bury the dagger deep into their neck. One down, as I burned more blood to kick the body outside the null-zone. That armor would be useful for the initiates.

Before the spear even touched the ground, I gripped it, twirling with the pointed thing as it whistled against the air. The injured swordsman backed up a few steps, so the three of them were together. I did a few forms to find which benefited my current state more, a trick to waste more time as the others set up. The vampire bloodlines picked in the few seconds I had for who would be best against these foes if more time was needed. None of them were targets.

I lurched forward, my knees creaking with the strength, my muscles flexed as I charged towards the three. Their guards were up, yet they did not expect me to twist mid lunge and throw the lance through the fool that watched with a wicked grin. My body was cleaved in half by the war ax, the two cut into pieces while the large sword wielder tried to intercept the weapon.

Only, they didn't look up to see my new body descending from above. Terminal velocity reached as I burned blood to force the impact through the head of the smaller sword wielder. Their neck spun to face the wrong direction, as my legs spun as a top would. My heel brought into the war ax user's jaw, the force knocking him out and shattering the fragile bone.

The null-zone fell at the last second, the fool trying to use magic in the vain hope that it might save them. The big sword wielder was just barely able to catch the butt of the lance to redirect it. The other weapons were tossed high into the air as the null-zone flickered back. They were forced to go higher through the blood that clung to them. The foolish oaf looked at me with his teeth bared, and the other soon-to-be corpses cheered. Only the large sword wielder looked up, putting his weapon against the hail of metal forced to fall and spin as blurs.

Their trajectory was tracked, each bit of iron singing and whistling as it fell atop those foolish enough to fight a vampire in an area stained with so much blood. They bled rivers for every inch taken, when they pulled back we pushed. Screams echoed as death came, the bitter reminder that I couldn't end each of them as painlessly as possible. I wasn't here to teach them, only slaughter as a butcher would. A farmer swinging their scythe to harvest the crop of bodies for thralls, blood, and more bodies.

Humans only had one life to live, yet I respected the man wielding the large sword. Using it to shield his foolish ward, while I lunged and severed ligaments. I moved amidst the hail of iron, untouched by foe and steel alike. The second the null-zone dropped, I had bloody pebbles force those closest off-balance. My enemies were brought to their knees, as claws once more cleaved through the chainmail protecting their necks. This endless dance continued, with more dire battles coming more frequently. The ones watching me fell to despair again as they shakily pointed their blades towards me.

They were fodder, blood for me to siphon, bodies to toss out to be collected. I couldn't hold them alone, yet I could hold them long enough to let the others set up for another attack. Piece by piece we were carving the enemy army into pieces we could stomach. Life by life, we harvested those poor souls sent to die. Slowly feeding into the dissent as the ones in this rotation ran at the first sign of their relief. Fresh faces staring at my blood-covered body. The inch they gained, lost. Familiar faces half-heartedly holding their weapons, not daring to come close as the foolish ones charged at me.

I was only a single vampire, was I not? The numbers would surely overwhelm me. Eventually, I had to tire. The logic written clearly as the blood stained the ground beneath us. Steam rose with every breath they took. A few spears pierced me as I tossed the new runic weapons back to be collected. This emboldened those that knew nothing about how this dance worked. More rushing forward, the smarter ones clenching their jaws as others roared in celebration.

Yes, they surged forward, a flock rushing towards the guillotine. The buildings that stood on either side suddenly collapsed as I continued to bring all the blood I could with me. A tide washed up to their ankles, slowing their attempts to escape the rubble and debris. The dust cloud spread out, choking those that lacked any kind of magic to keep their air breathable. Vampires did not need to breathe. The coughing fits gave the enemy away, as earth magic was used in an attempt to quickly settle the dust. Dozens fell before my blood-soaked claws.

Those that knew this dance too well quickly huddled and faced the alleys, leaving the new faces to fend for themselves. The first dozen ghouls surged from between the darkness of those buildings still standing. Then came the initiates with a proud roar, the new platoon surging forth to cripple and maim before dragging away those unconscious or the ones who no longer held any desire to fight. They had seen those faces resurfacing on our side too many times now. I made it a point to let those that were known, be seen.

A message to all those sent here to die, a confirmation. They would die here if they fought against me, they could join and slaughter those that forced them to fight. All that dropped their weapons and ran past those fighting to our side were welcomed. Some even came back wielding flames and magic they never had before.

Vampire-slaying talents were useless when I had multiple bodies. One touch with a weapon might kill the body I was using, but it just meant they were the first to die when I came back. Some were taken out by the ghost bugs. Some were burned alive by the initiates hurling fire at the offender. Some poor fellows were caught by thralls and torn to pieces while they screamed. Even as we pushed the enemy back those precious feet they gained. Back further, so they only traveled a few inches with the surge they had managed.

Blood splattered on the ground with every twitch of my muscles. My helmet affixed with barbs keeping it in place. Enemies were routed, they were chased and slaughtered with abandon. The initiates held no sympathy for those of the Yellow Corps. Bloodsoaked rubble was shot at their vitals. Their aura stopped the magic but not the momentum.

Another group with a banner was coming to face me, and the dance continued. Any useful weapon tossed back to be honed and used in the next fight. Just one skirmish of many, the other shades fulfilling their duties. Some sitting in the back to make our bodies to give unto those that needed them. Others explained why it wasn't time for some bloodlines to appear. A few even fought the vampires that had been on the front lines, oppressively whittling away the fool that would die and end their bloodline.

The web was becoming stronger as we dealt with more conflicts. Each shade slowly learning more about the various roles to fulfill. Each of us shared our experiences, growing as we resolved or failed respectively. I ordered the initiates back once more, the thralls covering their retreat. Another fool holding a green banner held high as they waved a runic sword at me. "Vampire! You should feel lucky! You get to die by..."

They didn't get to finish this time, bloody pebbles forced through their skull, gray matter splattering those around them. An older individual surged forward, severing my head from my body. Another body teleported behind him and snapped his neck before he could even scream about avenging their young master. Cultivator blood tasted foul, their bodies unable to be used for our vampirism.

Honor didn't exist on the battlefield. You either lived or you died. More surged forward, but the blood in the dirt moved away from their feet. The ground beneath them was suddenly a slurry of mud and blood. Robbed of their traction, heads were forced into the mixture. Some died from their necks snapping, while others were suffocated. It was the most I could do, for those sent here to die.

Silver

Sent here through a teleporter returned to the younger. We watched ourselves moving through the camps and people. Clinging to Charles, the king, as he stalked among their ranks. His appearance changed, and his soul shifted as sand would. A pact had been struck, a deal made. The Queen thought we were still in the cave of origin. Others of us tended the mushrooms that were needed later. Larvae were stored with food to keep the Hive fed so that their growth could continue.

All the problems we were to come upon in time, all solved as agreed without the Queen even being made aware. We would not fail this time.