It was a time of great importance and a war was continuing to rage. The fighting had broken out earlier in the morning, just like it has for about as long as everyone could remember. The ground breaking as the living dead clawed through the soil, forgotten weapons from generations ago hanging by their sides.The clashing of swords signaled the towns people to start their daily routines. When there was a pained scream as a paladin fell into the dirt, the people stopped, looked at the high gates around them, sighed, and moved on with their business. No funerals would be arranged. Death of the high and mighty was something they had been accustomed to. They thought nothing of it.
Outside of the huge walls the battle between the holy knights and the dead still raged. The paladins knew that they could die and it was something that hung on their shoulders from the second they finished training. They went through the patterns. Slicing arms and crushing skulls just as they had practiced an endless number of times. A nuetral look on all of their faces even though their arms shook beneath their armor.
Sometimes,however a paladin got outnumbered and could not fight off the skeletons. Once the paladins thought it was sad to see one of their brothers being ripped apart, his mangled corpse left for the birds the next morning. They got over this and continued with their jobs. They never knew when they would be next.
This grim tale could be about any of the soldiers. Any of the knights dieing for a higher power that they dont understand. It would bring a man to tears. No, this tale is for a special paladin, one who had more potential then his brothers. His name, Veraph Seraphim, a part of the highest rank of knights, the elite holy guard. He was one of the best fighters in The Order. He would be the victim of this story and he did not even know what would await him.
Veraph woke in the morning, ready for the violence he would both witness and inflict. He cleaned himself up and started getting his armor on. He picked up his sword, slid it into it's holster and walked out of his tent. He jogged up to the frontlines, pushing the dead back along the way.
Veraph started his morning excercises. A skeleton spotted him and charged.With swiftness he sidestepped, and jammed his sword in between the dead's neck bone, the skull rolling away. He hurried to face other enemies. Fighting a group of skeletons he parried their wild attacks and cut them through their rib cages. A single skeleton was before him, he put his sword away, brought himself to a sprint and leaped toward it,crashing into him from above, feeling the bones break underneath his armor. All through out the day Veraph slashed and ended the skeletons he faced.
He fell into his bed, happy with his good work today. In a life filled with death and tragedy there isn't much time to feel good. Veraph was suprised at this feeling. He went to sleep with a smile on his face. He could never have imagined what would happen to him soon enough.
