The Call of Death
The dawn of war had finally fallen upon us. We had been anticipating this moment for months, and once we heard the war horn’s bellow, we knew it was time. The enemy we were to face was mysterious, only to be described as villainous and horrid creatures; they spread death and blight everywhere they treaded. The only survivors of their onslaughts were children; all of whom were too terrified to speak of their experiences. Rumor had it that anyone who dared to combat these enemies was torn limb from limb… alive. But these were just rumors---or so we thought. When word first got out about these atrocities, everyone was up at arms, ready to leave their families behind and put such scum to justice. However, we were under the discretion of the king and he insisted that our army was not yet large enough or well equipped to engage in combat against such savages. Little did he know no amount of preparations could have readied him for such a foe.
After months of weapons stockpiling, training, and recruiting, the horn finally beckoned us to our demise. Everyone’s lust for blood had been extinguished by now, and as more and more stories were spread of these viscous barbarians, a great sense of dread had been shrouded over us; and for good reason. Several other surrounding nations had fought against this foe, and every single one had perished. Countless numbers of brave men and women were consumed and never seen again by this terror; and now it was our turn. As I saddled up my horse, I contemplated desertion, but these thoughts quickly left my mind as I remembered my kin. I had sons that would be fighting beside me for the first time today, and if I had turned my back on them, I would never forgive myself. I had to remain strong, not only for their sake, but for my men and myself. Once I saddled up my horse, I had my squire bring me my plate-mail; I will never forget the gleam it once had. It was specially made by an out-of-country blacksmith, and I had it copper coated, along with a gem encrusted in the helm. After I was suited up, I called to my boys and it was time to ride.
The enormity of our army was jaw-dropping. The cavalry stretched far and wide across the hillsides surrounding our keep, and the roar of the troops could certainly be heard for miles. The banners of our house were scattered throughout the entire mass, and I could not help but feel invincible at this sight. Every single troop here had trained day in and day out for this battle, and by god we were ready to send these demons back into the gates of hell from whence they came. I made haste as I went to my position in front of the troops. With one final glance back at our forces, I raised my sword with a resounding battle-cry and pressed onward toward the enemy. Our steeds flattened the hills they strode across and the earth shuddered beneath our feet as we rapidly closed the distance between the enemy and ourselves. When we crested the final hill, we were able to see for ourselves what exactly we were up against, and never before has my morale been obliterated so quickly.
For what felt like ages, we sat atop that hill and looked down upon our foe. At first it appeared as if there was no foe at all---for all we could see was an immense cloud of absolute darkness. As I looked around, I noticed the expressionless faces fixed upon me. Not completely of fear, but of doubt and utter confusion. It was then I noticed how quiet it had become; not a single battle cry could be heard, even the horses had fallen silent. Although my stomach had hit the floor, I knew my duty as a leader, and I quickly rallied everyone back into shape. I led the charge as I drew my blade and headed straight for the dark unknown. My troops immediately followed my lead, and our morale was somewhat restored. My armor clashed against itself and stampeding hooves could be heard all around. However, as I neared closer to the dark menace, my feelings rapidly changed from enthusiasm to despair. This feeling could be sensed throughout the entire crowd, and one thing I will never forget is the pale, grim face my son gave me just before we impacted the darkness. The last sound I heard was the horns of retreat.
Their cold, pale fingers ripped and tore at my flesh as my horse was engulfed in a sea of limbs. I struggled to keep my balance, but their grasp was too great. As I was dragged from my saddle, I saw my brethren falling all around me. A feeling of terror conquered my mind as I was released into an abyss, and everywhere I looked I saw bodies being thrown into this fissure along with me. Finally, when the light from above could no longer be perceived, we were enveloped in total darkness. I do not know how long we were left in the darkness, but it was clear that the gods intended for us to remain. At first it felt as if we were dead; for everything that made us human had left us---time, thought, and sanity. Soon, however, we would come to know a feeling greater than anything we have ever felt before…thirst.
The urge to drink was sudden, and within an instant my mouth felt dehydrated. The more I thought of quenching my thirst, the more erratic my thoughts became. Suddenly, my mind settled on the most abundant beverage at my disposal---blood.  I had to find a source immediately. I could not see, but I knew there was plenty to drink all around me. The thought of turning on my own brethren did not faze me at that moment, for my mind could only think of satisfying its only desire. The first man that brushed up against me became my dinner. I grasped his throat as I clawed my way through his skin with my talon-like fingers. The smell of fresh meat and blood turned me into a feral fiend as I clenched my teeth into his muscles. His death was quick, and the deed was over shortly, but before I knew it, I was searching for more. Apparently, my immense thirst for blood was a mutual feeling throughout the masses, and suddenly everyone turned on each other. Bones snapped and men cried out in agony as their blood spilled. There was an all out feeding frenzy, and the foolish and feeble were destroyed by the mighty and superior. Finally, when there was no more blood to drink or bones to crunch, the darkness fell silent once again, and I made certain that I was the only survivor.
With only myself and hundreds of corpses to keep me company, my mind began to slip. Only fragments of my memory remained, and I could scarcely remember what I was or who I was. The silence of this place became unbearable; half of the time I could not tell if I was actually hearing voices or if they were in my head. But then, I heard something. At first it was just a single quiet note; however, this note was gradually joined by others, and the resonance of this chorus immediately put my mind at ease. The longer I listened to this irresistible symphony, the clearer and clearer it became. “Serve me… serve me…” It commanded.  I had never experienced anything like it before. It was as if one of the gods had opened an ear toward my prayers. Was this the salvation I had been waiting for? Was death finally going to take me under his cloak and put my mind to rest?
It was indeed a god acknowledging me, but not the god I had expected. Throughout all I had suffered, all I had endured, the Lord of the Deceased had been eyeing me. Rather than be vanquished by death, I was chosen to fight alongside it. The Lord of the Deceased spared me for his own cause, as I was to join and lead his legion of undying corpses. I was granted with eternal life after death. No matter how many times my body was to fall in battle, I was to rise again and again to spread blight across the land. My duty was to spread darkness and death as I roamed the earth adding more and more corpses to the Lord of the Deceased’s army. I am the messenger of the Deceased Lord, and the name I go by now is Coronach. I am Coronach the undying legionary of ruination.