Kyros walked the lands of Dori'ba, and sat down. He was thinking of his father. He always came here or to the Garden in The Temple of Life, to think about his father. A small group of Zombies aproached him, "Giiivvvv... Yerrrrr... Liiiiffeee!" They moaned, over and over again. Kyros made the required hand gestures to cast Exorcism and aimed his hand at the zombies. "Leave me alone," He said. The zombies did not faulter, oblivious to what Kyros could do to them. "Have it your way then," Kyros sighed. He let go and an orange-ish fire engulfed the group, leaving nothing behind but a pile of ashes.

A curse, the clash of sword against rusted metal, moans from the undead. This was quite a new experience. Undead, she’d heard of such things, heard of men who cast their very souls away just to be able to summon those who had already passed on. When she heard about this place, she thought it was just the drunken ramblings of men, after all how could such a thing as the dead rising from the earth ever be true. It was preposterous, then again. It wasn’t. Either that or, the whole slowly dying thing was wearing on her psyche.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. She may be cursed to death but damned if she wasn’t going to fight what she could. She would not be like her father; she would not just lay down in the dust and let fate claim her. She fought against it, and she fought everything else. Even the undead that were so quick to bring her to their level. All she had was the sword, her last bit of family, an older cousin, had made the sword. Now he was just as dead as the rest of them, so now she had the scimitar. It was the scimitar that sliced clean through the torso of more than one undead and even beheaded and limbless they still tried to run about with nothing other than two legs to guide them. It was beginning to turn into a great annoyance.