Just as the day was ending and dusk was approaching Nagash awoke to the sound of not to distant voices. Nagash rose slowly, nose high in the air, he could smell fresh meat. he stood to his full height and picked up the staff that lay on the floor by his side. He glared around the area he was in; it was dark, cold and damp, just the way he likes it. Then the voices came again and a smile spread over his face. Then it had occurred to him, where was his master?? But that did not matter to him because he could smell the blood of a nearby being. Nagash looked left towards the tunnel of the temple that he entered then looked right down the darker tunnel towards the voices. “I’m coming” he whispered gently “start running!”.

Kos'harn strode along the dank tunnel, without urgency. He was in search of his apprentice, and looking forward to the meeting. It had been a while. He found something comforting in the dark coolness of the tunnel.

The sound of his apprentice's voice rang down the tunnel, but not intended for Kos'harn.

"Run? I should hope not. Running is so tedious." Kos'harn repiled, his voice echoing down the long tunnel.

Nagash heard a new voice. He considered what to do then he realized the voice sounded familiar. Then with a sudden realization he remembered the voice just as his faced dropped. The voice he had recognized was the voice of his master. Nagash looked up wondering if it was really him he had been waiting so long for him to arrive. He looked up in hope just as Kos'harn walked through the tunnel entrance. Nagash immediately dropped to one knee with his head bowed while saying “Master you have returned”. Nagash dared not move until he had been confirmed by his master.

Kos'harn stepped out of the gloom of the tunnels and drew his cloak about him. He arrived to find his apprenice keeling before him.

"Indeed this is true" Kos'harn replied, observing his apprentice. "You may rise. Tell me, any news of our quarry"?

He looked around in the dark, searching...

Nagash stood up but made sure his head height was not higher than his masters.
“It is going ok master however more work is needed”, with this remark Nagash stooped even lower in pure fear of his master.
“If I may be so brave to say…master” Nagash whispered, “Am I worthy enough for that rematch? For old times sake master”
With this Nagash raised his head to look into Kos'harn their faces no more than a couple of inches away, staring right into Kos'harn lifeless eyes.

"There is but one way to answer that question" Kos'harn said.

He looked around, trying to find any sign of the one thay had been persuing. The damned half dragon. He examined his apprentice again.

"Do you think you're ready again?" he asked. "You know the consequences. Do not forget how the last time ended"

Nagash stood to his full height, which was just above Kos’harn, and thought back about the last time they had fought.

It was a night not to far from this and he was being tested in his final stages of becoming Kos’harn’s apprentice. The both fought valiantly but Kos’harn’s experience and skill won. Nagash remembers being struck down to the floor but allowed to live due to his devotion to their now combined cause.

Nagash snapped back from the daydream and looked down on his master. Took his right foot back about a foot, bent his knees and drew his staff to a horizontal position coxing Kos’harn to make the first move. Nagash was suddenly filled with adrenalin as he finally got the chance to fight his old master again. Nagash looked straight into the eyes of his masters. A small smile crawled across his face and with a gentle but patronizing voice Nagash said, “Oh I remember and I promise you master it wont happen again!!”

"Is that so..." Kos'harn whispered, his voice icy, "The consequences will be greater this time round, you must know this?"

He drew his sword, holding it two handed at the side of his shoulder. A slight wind blew, tugging the corners of his cloak, whipping the fabric this way and that. Neither of them moved.

"So be it..."

Nagash shook with rage and stared at his master. The moment hung in time with both parties staring at each other neither daring to make the first move. The wind gently wiped their cloaks into dance of movement. Then suddenly Nagash lunged forward, sending his staff high into the air and then down again sending a crushing blow aimed for Kos’harn’s head.

Kos'harn waited and waited. The time it took for the staff to complete one swing was immense for him, he saw it almost in slow motion. He waited until it was but an inch from crushing his skull, and then turned to the side, just enough for the staff to miss him. He locked eyes with his apprentice for a moment, a look that told that he would hold no quarter.

Kos'harn shouldered Nagash away, just enough to draw his huge scythe and sweep it in a devastating arc, aiming to eviscerate the man before him...

Nagash saw the huge scythe swing around towards him. He looked laughed. Using his great agility Nagash dived backwards landing with a huge thud then rolled out of the way for the follow up blow from Kos’harn. His head rose and looked once again into the lifeless eyes of his master.
“You’re going to have to do better than that!!”
Without a moments waiting he dived forward once again straight at him. Wanting the blood of his master.

Kos'harn phased as Nagash charged, allowing his apprentice to run straight through him. Once out the other side he spun on his heel and readied the scythe again, shifting back. He looked at Nagash, who seemed to be getting angrier by the second. That was why he knew he would win.

"You are pathetic" Kos'harn spat, "Do not ever call yourself my apprentice again. Fool, I will cut you down where you stand."

He swept the scythe, aiming to cut Nagash off at the knees.

Nagash fell to the floor once again as he fell through Kos’harn. Now built with rage he stood up and turned to face his master just in time to see the huge scythe swinging around heading straight for his legs. He immediately slammed his staff vertically into the floor as if standing to attention. The great scythe cut the minuscule puce of wood in half and continued towards Nagash’s knees. Nagash jumped, just avoiding the scythe but slamming into the low ceiling above his head, which sent him crashing to the ground with a thud. He lay on the floor, lifeless and still. From the back of his head came a single drop of blood.

Kos'harn hesitated for a moment, waiting for his apprentice to get back up as usual. Typical Nagash, he would carry on fighting even if he had no limbs remaining.

One time, over seventy years ago now, Nagash had been fighting against a battalion of soldiers, and slaughtered many. But three had simultaneously impaled him through the stomachs with their spears. Kos'harn had thought this the end for Nagash, but it was no to be. He pulled himself further onto the leaders spear, and killed him with his own sword before turning on the others. It was a good day...

Kos'harn looked at the prone body before him for a moment. Then he raised his scythe, preparing to take his apprentices head off.

Lyra had been watching the pair fight for quite some time now and was starting to grow bored. No one was dead; there was no blood, not severed limbs. Can’t always have what you want you know. a little voice in her head said.

“Hello” she called to the two men, “Erm, I’m a bit bored now so can you please make the fight a little more interesting, or else I think I might die again of boredom.”

Nagash lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness. He tried to open his eyes and a searing pain shot through his head. He tried moving his left leg, no response, and then his right also no response. He heard the inevitable sound of metal travelling at fast speeds, cutting through the air. Nagash tried to move his legs again. A sudden though rushed through his head but he didn’t want to think about the outcome if that happened. This insignificant injury to his head was nothing that would heal in a few hours but if that scythe connected with his neck that was it his whole life gone in one mistake. He tried to move again with every ounce of strength he had left in him. Then he felt it, his right arm twitched. He concentrated lifting the humungous arm up just a few inched and sent it crashing down with all the strength he had which was just enough to roll out of the way. Nagash laid face up staring once again into Kos’harn eyes, and then he heard the voice. They both looked at the tiny figure standing in one of the dark corners of the opening. Nagash slowly sat up as he was now slowly getting the feeling back into both arms; he looked at his master waiting to see what he was doing or wanted to be done.

The scythe had stopped a few millimeters short of Nagash' head, so close to 'dusting' him. He pulled it back up and held it at his side. There was a little girl a few paces off, just standing there. It was her that had spoken. He stood still as his apprentice got back to his feet.

"Who are you?" he growled.

He glanced at Nagash, checking whether he was liable to rip this girl apart. He thought not.

"What do you want?" he spat.

Nagash stood all the way up and stared at this little insignificant creature that stood before him. He smiled and started to walk forward. Kos’harn smashed his scythe in front on his disciple and gave him a cold stare. Nagash immediately bowed his head and took a step back and left the situation to his master.

"I'm Lyra. I control death. Do you want to be my friend?" Lyra smiled sweetly, "What about the big ugly one? He looks like he needs a friend."

She stared at them both for a moment, her head cocked slightly to the side.

"Watch" she whispered.

She raised her hand and several bolts of black energy shot from her fingertips, sinking into the ground. Lyra smiled. After a moment that points where the energy had touched began to move, small mounds forming before... Hands appeared. Then arms, then heads and bodies and legs. After a minute five zombies shuffled into line next to her, decayed flesh hanging loosely from their bones.

"Wana play?" she asked.

Kos'harn watched as the little girl summoned the zombies and set them upon him. He shifted his weight slowly, waiting for them to shuffle into range. As they did so he swept his scythe around at their mid section, splitting three in half, their remains spilling onto the ground. But this did not stop them. As soon as they hit the floor the top halves of the corpses detached from the lower and dragged themselves closer, desperate to taste his rotting flesh.

He readied his scythe again and or the next ten minute continued to fight against the zombies, cutting them into smaller and smaller chunks each time. But still they came on. He kicked one in the head, sending it flying away, dead. Then he realized. He simply waited or each zombie, then stomped on its head. Job done.

"Well?" he growled expectantly.