Chapter 1: The Ruins of Grimore
Threnas awoke to a blood-red dawn. Blood had been spilled. He ducked out of his war tent and headed to the main fire. Threnas had rustic-brown hair and was a middle-aged man, with a face as hard as stone. He had seen many deaths in his life as expressed on his face with thick wrinkles and heavy eyelids. He was a bold and strong commander, his walk straightforward and determined. Threnas was the leader of the Army of Farran, the miss-shaped force of humans torn apart by war and suffering, cursed to wander countries with no home. The undead army, known as the Scourge, attacked all the time making it impossible for the humans to settle anywhere for long.
Threnas sat at the fire next to his captain and ripped a chunk of meat off of the pig roasting over the fire. "Any sign of Korr?" Arthis inquired to his Captain.
"None yet milord, but ai'll inform you the moment Ah do," the Captain replied.
Threnas gazed into the flames as they danced and licked against the blackened pig. Korr was Threnas's one and only son. Korr had been given permission to go on a rescue mission to the Ruins of Grimore for any survivors of a recent Burning Legion attack. It had been two weeks since then. Although worried and grieved, Threnas's features remained the same. He took a big bite out of the pig and chewed slowly. He had no doubt his son would find his way, but had the Undead attacked him?
"He'll be alright milord," the Captain reassured," 'e has Prunc and 'is squad of swordsmen with 'im...besides, give that laddie a rapier, and 'e could slay three Death Knights afore you 'ould have a chance to even draw yer sword."
Threnas's lips cracked into a slight smile. It was true; Korr had always been expert with the rapier. He had fought three men in a training match with wooden sticks, and all three were on the ground, lumps beginning to form on their heads. There was no need to worry, Korr would return to him soon. Threnas's swallowed his last bit of meat and returned to his tent to get changed into his armor. You never knew when the Undead would strike next...
Korr battled on valiantly in the Ruins of Grimore. Just as Korr and Prunc had arrived and found some of the survivors, they had been attacked be a group of Death Knights and Death Spawns. Korr sprinted and dove through a small gap in a crumbling wall just as a black arrow whizzed by. Korr peeked out the whole to see the arrow quivering in the ground where he had been just a moment before. His pure blonde hair was drenched in sweat that ran down his face, burning his crystal-blue eyes. Korr was in his early twenties, young and strong, and his face showed no signs of aging. Korr drew his black-bladed rapier from his silver-studded sheath that hung at the side of his shining silver armor. Korr's eyes turned a fiery red as he watched a soldier being mercilessly killed by a Death Knight. Korr's whole body tensed as he tapped into the magic held within him. "Gladius Moŕtua!!" Korr yelled. Korr's blade was instantly engulfed in black flames, licking the hilt of his rapier and the ground hungrily. Korr charged out of the opening crying his war cry, "Farrrraaaaannnn!!!!!!!" With one easy sweep, Korr's blade went clean through the Death Knight. There was a small explosion of black fire as the Death Knight disintegrated into a pile of ash. Suddenly, two more Death Knights were upon Korr, their deadly, rusty blades drawn, dripping with fresh blood. Korr's eyes grew redder until it seemed as if they were on fire themselves. The first Death Knight marched towards Korr, its bright yellow eyes challenging Korr. A Death Knight was a huge spawn of evil, covered from head to toe in rusty grey armor. No one had ever seen a Death Knight without its armor, but old wives tales had said that if one did, they would die of fright. Korr's eyes glared back at the Death Knights, equally challenging. As the Death Knight approached, Korr held up his hand and counted under his breath, "Three, two, one…Moŕs!" Instantly, an arrow-like beam of black light protruded from Korr's palm and continued straight through the Death Knight's chest. The Death Knight screeched as it crumpled to the ground. Korr acted fast. He sprinted full speed at the other Death Knight his rapier ready. When he was close enough to hear the Death Knight's ghastly breath, he plunged his rapier deep into the black heart of it. Before the Death Knight knew what happened, it crumpled to the ground, just like its other friend. Korr walked to a crumbling wall, wiping the black blood of Death Knight on the grass as he went. Suddenly, there was a shout on the other side of the wall. "Korr!!!" It was the yell of Prunc. Korr quickly sheathed his blade, and pulled off the bow that was slung across his back. Korr notched an arrow into the bow and climbed to the top of the wall. Prunc was backing up slowly as a Death Spawn approached, its bloody teeth clicking hungrily. Prunc had no sword for he had dropped in a fight with a Death Knight. All around Prunc, other soldier were fighting Death Knights and Death Spawns with swords, spears, pikes, and daggers. A Death Spawn was a cannibalistic creature. It was almost like a small, hunched over skeleton, except that it had huge, sharp claws and teeth. Death Spawns wore no armor and bore no weapon, except sometimes it would carry a cudgel if it felt like ground-human. The Death Spawn was almost upon Prunc now, it curled itself up and tensed, ready at any moment to pounce. Its deathly blank yellow eyes gazed deep into the eyes of the frightened warrior, putting a trance on him. Prunc stopped and swayed slightly. The Death Spawn pulled back, and sprang forward, its jaws wide open. Whizz! The Death Spawn flew back, its head pinned to the ground by an arrow through its throat. Korr grinned; a direct hit. He leaped down off the wall and hurried towards Prunc. "Thanks, boy," Prunc said wearily. Prunc was also a middle aged man, his thick brown hair streaked with spots of grey.
"Yeah, let's go old man; there is still yet undead blood to be spilled!" Korr promptly notched another arrow and hurried off towards battle, his silver armor gleaming in the morning sun. Prunc hurried over to his fallen blade. Damn these undead! Why could they not kill Korr? Prunc wondered silently as he plodded off towards battle.
Around noon the sounds of battle in Grimore died down. Korr and his platoon had been forced to retreat to the east side of Grimore. The undead had not attacked for nearly an hour. Korr stood atop the remnant of what appeared to be the side of what was once a house as he strained his eyes towards the west. The spell-casting warrior's eyes were still glowing with the heat of battle. His face had cuts and bruises all over from the deadly claw of a Death Spawn that was currently pinned to the ground with a spear, and a decapitated claw stuck down its throat. Korr didn't even wince as his squire yanked a black arrow from his arm. That undead archer is going to pay for that, he thought to himself.