It is the day of the Nightwolves. The Lord Moon shines high over our
heads. A group of 12 man crest the top of the hill, surveying the huge
Dredge Plains below them. The Lord Commander gestured below, "Look, our
glory lies just beyond that plains. Victory is in our grasp". Below
soldiers fought on the plains. A huge battle ensued as the Lord Commander
observes from high above, watching the blood spill as our soldiers slugged
it out against our enemies. The Lord Commander pointed at a tower rising
high just beyond the plains and said 'Taemar, that is our target. You have
your orders, the sorcerer must die." Pointing towards the Eastern side of
the plains, he said "There, a weakness in their defense. Strike hard and
you will be through their lines."
As Taemar descended the hill, he blew a sharp whistle. A group of 200 men
approached and follow Taemar as he moved towards their horses. These were
the horses of the Death Guards, bred and trained by the finest groom you can
ever find. Taemar looked at the 20 men and said "Mount up. We strike on
the Eastern Flank. Today, we hunt the evil sorcerer."
The Death Guards surged across the Eastern flank of the battlefield. Taemar
could feel the pulse of the battle, thumping in his ears. The sound of men
killing and dying around him. Screams of agony pierced the soul of even the
strongest men. Following the old teachings of his Mentor, he closed his
eyes for a few seconds and calmed himself. Although the commander of the
Death Guards, Taemar's weapon of choice was a pair of metal knuckles. He
preferred his fist over all other weapons. However, this proved to be a
disadvantage on a horseback. Taemar gesturing to his second in command who
takes point when they fight on horseback. Moving into a wedge formation,
they closed in on the enemy ahead.
As they approached, the battlefield was a mess! Our soldiers surged against
the impenetrable wall of lances created by the orcish soldiers serving the
evil sorcerer. Taemar scanned the battlefield and found it. The side area
where orcs and ogres stood beside each other. The hatred and loathing for
one another cause them to stand ever so slightly apart from one another.
Taemar pointed at that area and everyone understood what he meant. The
charge had begun...
The Evil Sorcerer
Blood spurted on Taemar's armor as he slammed his knucked into the head
of an ogre. The charge had went well at first, however, the enemies were
quick to close in on them. On the battlefield, as Taemar took life after
life, he started to smile. Oh that satisfaction of kill or be killed. Will
he be recognized as the paramount warrior in the world if he stood over a
mountain of corpses laid down at his feet? How many can he kill before he
was brought down. For a moment, Taemar was almost lost in his joy for
battle and forgot about his mission. Taemar then realized what he was here
for... To kill the unkillable sorcerer, to prove himself the strongest. A
huge blast shook the earth. Thunderbombs. Taemar glanced at the direction
of the Lord Commander. He had brought out our hidden weapon, the
thunderbombs. Another blast shook the earth. Taemar knew this would open a
way for him. He searched and found what he needed, his horse was still
alive in the chaos and ran for it. Taemar seized the reigns and spurred
forward through that chaos towards the tower...
Taemar looked through the small opening that came from a door left ajar. No
doubt, the sorcerer was in the room. He kicked the door open and charged
in. The sorcerer turned and spells came sizzling across at him instantly.
Taemar tumbled from the spells, hid behind walls, and bidded his time,
searching for a moment of weakness... The sorcerer faltered, perhaps from
fatigue, and Taemar struck fast and hard. His metal knuckles sliced the
sorcerer's throat. Taemar had won. "You thought you had won, haven't you?
But you will never see home... Again" rasped the sorcerer in his dying
throes. A dark ether ripped across the room, swallowing them whole...
When Taemar opened his eyes, there lies a land unfamiliar to him... Taemar
laughed, thinking "Who cares about home. Foolish sorcerer, more blood, more
death, more fighting will follow wherever he goes...."
Standing before you is a man 6 feet tall. He is of a muscular stature,
not big, but toned as if he has been training his muscles fervently. He
shaves his hair completely every morning and lacquer it to perfection. He
is bald and happy to be so. He has a huge nose that covers almost a third
of the width of his face. He eyes appear to be looking in different
directions every time you look at him. However, his eyes seem to capture
your soul every time you look at it, as if the Dark Lord himself resides deep
inside him. He has a crooked smile that he shows every so often. A
sinister smile that accompanies everything he says. His shoulders are broad
but he hunches all the time. His body is filled with scars, one on the
upper right side of his shoulder, the other on the left side of his abdomen.
The scar on his abdomen seemed to be made by a sword while that on his right
shoulder seemed to be made from a whip.