<ul><span style="font-family: New Times Roman;"><span style="font-style: italic">:: North of the Kingdom, behind the mountains...</span><br/><br/>Issuing one single long silken cackle, filthy steel-gauntleted digits snatched a portion of a Fortress Guardâ€™s torn shirt, pulling the frail, struggling body to his own with force. <br/><br/>Necroplasmic body was clothed in long magical robes, dark of color from hood to robe bottoms. A razor sharp pointy tip of his magical sword came to pierce the skin of the Guard's cheek whilst dark emerald eyes set in dark deep sockets scornfully observed five other Guards; crimson blood pooling out from beneath their perforated, lifeless bodies . <br/><br/>The voice of the master rang forth as the back of his large, strong hand came to crush flat across the Guard's nose, causing a nasal fracture beyond possible repair.<span style="color: #808040"><span style="font-style: italic">''<span style="font-weight: bold">Destroy their homes! Burn their villages and allow none of them to flee, or I shall claim your heads instead.</span>''</span></span> He snarled, his shadowy figure averted a wicked expression towards some of his henchmen - tall, cowled figures, before shifting a death stare upon the sniveling, emotionally; psychologically and physically damaged human. <br/><br/>A sadistic expression was formed on the face of the one in charge and with one gauntleted swift movement and uncanny sword-wielding, he executed the one last Guard and raised a blood stained hand, motioning for his henchmen to follow. He stepped over slain corpses of a thousand men as the <span style="font-style: italic">Dark Army</span> marched ahead toward their objective, the City of Morrranwick. ::</span></ul>