Xandrea Sataere

Undead Lords

...*GASP!*  BREATHERS!  FOUL, WRETCHED BREATHERS!  Not one, but many!  Turmoil flooded my heart.  What am I to do?  I am nothing but a worthless slave of Myrkul.  One who needs many seasons yet to grow in strength and power and to learn of His gloriously-evil ways.  Oh how I wish my lords and my ladies were here with me now to punish these fools!

Suddenly a thought bolted through my mind, and nearly pinned me to the tree I was hiding behind.  “You will not fear Xandrea!”  “You will demonstrate my power to these unbelievers!”  “You will seek one of them out and put my mark upon his throat.”  “The bearer and all else who look upon it will be reminded that I am coming, that they cannot escape the Lord of Death.”  “They will live each day in terror, knowing full well that my minions, the Undead Lords come to kill their mortal bodies without mercy and to release their souls to me.”  “They will laugh, but it is only a façade to cover up their fear.”  Go now Xandrea.”  “Do my bidding!”

Unnatural strength and evil moved me silently to my destination.  Foolishly, Dophuz of the Requiem held his torch high.  Poisoned axe blade in hand, I took aim, and swiftly slit his throat shouting, “FOR THE GLORY OF MYRKUL!”

“Focus!” I screamed at myself as I spiraled down into darkness.  Then all was black.

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