Quoted By:
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-r">28 General Command Prowess from Annette! The Troops fight well!</span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">The 1d100 results shall be deferred to the next post</span></span>
With one hand, you drive the staff bearing the green lit lantern into the dirt, pushing it through the soil and cobble that lay beneath it until it is well and firmly lodged in there.
"Annette, this battle shall be yours to command," you call out to the commander of your front line. Annette stiffens in shock at the order, nodding dumbly. To the rest of the men-at-arms, you say, "Don't give her a hard time now, lads! You've all an important job to do. On my signal, you're to charge in with the skeletons, pull as many of those lightless blackhearts into the field as you can, and slaughter them all. Annette, I trust you can keep this rowdy lot on task?"
With a vigorous nod and her wits returning, Annette answers, "Aye, madame! Does this mean I can tell Rory to stop staring at my arse?"
"He better be keeping an eye on the <span class="mu-i">enemy</span> and not the pretty view." You give a chiding look to a certain member of the rearguard alongside your words. The men-at-arms all give a chuckle as Rory shrinks in embarrassment. As one more bit of motivation, you inform them that, "There will be a bottle of the good brandy from my <span class="mu-i">personal</span> collection going to whichever one of you slays the most greenskins tonight. So do keep count."
"Yes, Madame!" the men-at-arms say as one. If there is one thing you can trust to motivate your soldiers more than anything, it's the promise of good alcohol.
"Necromancer <span class="mu-i">and</span> lover of alcohol?" Damien's teasing voice comes up alongside you. "My oh my, that's two more vices than I thought the Maid of Charlemont capable of."
Damien's helmet has lifted up from the collar along his folding plate, a frog helm whose eye slit gives off a gentle magenta light. Stamped into one side of the "chin" of the helm is the notanthus, while the other is home to the lantern you presume is his personal seal.
"There is no scripture that forbids alcohol, Damien," you tell him. He would no doubt pounce on any excuse for why you have such an extensive collection of fine liquor in your cabinet, even if most of the bottles remain unopened. Half of them were from Hilde passing along gifts from the distillery that sits near the edge of your territory. "And there <span class="mu-i">is</span> scripture that gives us guidance in shepherding spirits that do not yet wish to move on to the afterlife."
"Oh?" Damien asks.
"This may shock you, but if you want the dead to cooperate, all you need to do is..." You lean into him conspiratorially, and whisper, "<span class="mu-i">Earn their cooperation</span>, just like anyone else."
As he thinks upon your words, you draw yourself to your full height. There's some cooperation that you need to earn from the parade of skeletons that you've just led into the battlefield.
