Bodies rose silently, completely absent of the groaning and moaning one would expect from an undead horde. Yet despite their silence, it didn't take away from the horrifying nature of the dead coming to life, instead it twisted it into an even more eery sight. As if there was something absolutely unnatural about their resurrection.
There was no semblance of the former self, no hint of false life giving them a new existence. They were simply empty shells, with no thoughts, no life behind their eyes. No voice of their own to let out even a simplest of groans.
All they were was puppets under the control of their one true master. Their Lord of the Unliving.
On a silent signal they immediately moved as one, charging at the legendary beast of myth from all angles. Without hesitation, they leapt onto it, as if it was any other beast, and started to tear into it with tooth, claw and bony fingers.
