"My lord, glorious combat awaits. Word has just arrived that Razgars men had ambushed and sacked an Armanian Convoy carrying precious ores to the capital. There were no survivors, surely this will stir the foolish king into a frenzy, igniting a war between the two nations over the great divide that separates us. Lord Draxis, what is your command?" A lowley shade spoke to the lord of Vigil's Keep, expecting a slow response since Lord Draxis was usually careful in his thought in most matters concerning Razgar's horde. "We will mobilize our troops here and meet the Armanians in the field first. Razgar will not get to keep his glory for himself, and I will claim my own victory over the cowardly dogs of the Armanian highborn. Their king will bleed from my blade and he will suffer my wrath from his ancestors doing. There is not much time, send word the the Drake Overlord. Tell them that I intend to be on the frontlines of battle and intend to wet my blade with the blood of these greedy and wretched humans. They will taste the wrath of the undead legions." With that bold statement, Lord Draxis rose from his seat at the head of the table in his Great Hall, and grabbing his helmet from atop the mantle behind him. "Ready my steed, and tell the Dethsworn to meet me in the courtyard, We ride tonight and will push until there are no more humans to stain this land." A cruel and harsh tone came to his voice anty time he mentioned human-kind. He loathed their greed and desired nothing more than to see them destroyed. As Draxis descended the steps of his fortress to the armory, a great darkness enveloped him and the stairwell, and the form of his Lich-Lord appeared to him. "Draxis, do not be foolish, your arrogance is controlling you and this will be your end if you pursue this alone. Wait for Razgar's men to weaken their forces, then strike while the Armanians are routed.You will surely win the day if you bide your time, and you will have your vengeance and your price will be paid. Do not let yourself get lost in your hatred in this moment. The time will come my friend, but that time is not now." The voice spoke, but Draxis kept going. "Your words will not stop me, Baphomet. I know my strength and I know the strength of the legion you have granted me. The humans and their allies cannot beat us, the cannot kill us and they will quake in fear at the sight of us. The Legions of Felwind will not be culled and will not be put down by some peasants and their sticks.We will rise again and we will win. And you cannot stop me." The tone of defiance was strong, but he spoke with confidence and was true to his own feelings on the matter. A short time after, Baphomet let out a sigh and spoke one last time. "Then you go once again to your grave, you will not be without my help. But be wary, I will not aid you without the presence of Razgars horde." With that, the darkness lifted, and all that surrounded Draxis now was the pale light of flickering torches ahead, marking the armory.
As Draxis flung the door open, his elite guard, the Dethsworn, were preparing and putting on their armor. Each warrior bore a different crest and motif on their armor, ranging from a fearsome looking gargoyle to the likeness of pure cold itself. The twelve warriors of his elite core were prepared for battle soon after he strode into the room, commanding their attention. "We ride tonight into Armanian lands to take back what was stolen from us... to take back our old homes and castles. They may be centuries old, but we still hold claim to those places. I will not rest until our blades have drank the blood of the royal family of King Arman. His time is nigh and death is coming for him like a dagger in the night. We will not stop until the land is stained with their blood and cleansed of human existence. We will take from them, their greed and lust. Rip away their pride and let them envy our power. They will know what true wrath is, for they know not of real wrath. The sloth-like, gluttonous, over fed and lazy human dogs will know true fear! AND WE SHALL STRIKE IT INTO THEIR HEARTS AND MINDS! They will know that the Legions of Felwind are coming for them, and they will know that we cannot be stopped. Tonight we ride! We ride for Victory! For Vengeance! None may stand before us! None shall call us cowards for waiting and biding our time... No one will look at us in history and saw that we acted in cowardice, slaying the weakened while we remained strong. Our fearsome power will last through the ages!" Draxis shouted as he wrapped his plated fingers around the hilt of his great blade, raising it above his head. "Mount of my brothers, for now we begin the endless march!" With a great and terrifying roar, the warriors of the Dethsworn raised their blades alongside of their lord, marching out of the armory and to the stables where their pale warhorses sat, waiting to be ridden evermore into battle for conquest. “This will not end until I see his head mounted upon his own throne. His bloodline has come to its end and his ancestors will feel my wrath.” He muttered as he climbed atop his skeletal mount, draped in a similar armor to his own. His horse bore little flesh and muscle, and seemed frail at first glance, but upon closer inspection, a grim magic gave it great power and gave it an air of darkness about it. Draxis pressed his mount forward, and with each menacing step the steed tool, the ground beneath its hooves decayed and began to die. No life would be left in its wake and Draxis would be the herald to this new wave of destruction.