Lords of the realm

The putrid stench of decay hung heavy in the air, a miasma that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. Beneath a sky perpetually shrouded in ashen clouds, an army unlike any other trudged forward with relentless determination.

They were the undead—thousands upon thousands of reanimated corpses, marching in eerie unison across the blighted landscape.

Their number had increased with the population of Ditrayn, and now there are at least several thousands of them. The means to turn them like undead, Azrael and his men were the quicks on the uptake. They didn't waste time and guided the army towards the capital. They were relentless and fierce, like a savage beast.

At the vanguard of this macabre procession flew a ship that stood out even among the horrors that surrounded it.