It was still the pre-hours before dawn as a man entered the plaza under the cover of darkness, and the sun had yet to rise and reveal the nights massacre to the denizens of Wing City. Strolling his way through the plaza, Christian was whistling a cheery tune with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. The streets were empty, devoid of life, or unlife as the case may be, and no movement was detected save for two hounds that slunk along at either side of him. They were spindly looking beasts with the flesh peeled back from their skulls to reveal the unnatural blue glow within their hollow eye sockets.
Since Sanina's death at the hands of Riaze, her once promising apprentice had taken to solitude as he delved into his macabre studies with a single minded intensity. He had yet to uncover the full extent of Sanina's research, and had yet to successfully merge demon with undead, but his progress continued to unfold exponentially.
The spectacle that had drawn him out of his reclusive hole at last was the mountain of bodies piled within the streets of the Wing City Plaza. He had read the decree, scoffed at it as openly as Varia. The Lessard family had claimed dominion over this city long before the Vankoryth had set foot in these lands, and they would remain long after the Vankoryth had turned to ash on the wind.
The Vankoryth's own actions would see to that. The Lessard's hadn't risen to power by force, or by massacres that would draw the ire of every hunter, lycan and law enforcement for miles around. Christian had learned Sanina's lessons well. Cunning, subterfuge, patience, these were the keys to success. One does not simply take Wing City by force, and come morning, this place would be crawling with investigators.
As he came to stand before the monument, Christian held a hand out, tendrils of blue necromantic energy seeping into the pile of mangled bodies. As if marionette puppets, the bodies began to stir, groaning and disentangling themselves from one another. Sunken milky eyes stared back at him as the group began to assemble.
Pleased with his handiwork, Christian shoved his hands back in his pockets before simply turning on heel to walk away, the congregation of shuffling zombies following in his wake. It was a rare opportunity to acquire so many useful bodies, all with no trouble to himself. The Vankoryth Detante's signature would see that any repercussions were directed elsewhere, well away from himself.