The holy Cenneth, Patron of Soldiers

St. Cenneth is the youngest in the pantheon of the saints of the Undead Flesh, and those who served during the last summer campaigns in the army of the Undead can still tell of how the Saint himself walked in this world before the martyr gave his life.

Even before the Worldfire, he was known as Cenneth Griffindeath, the hero who, in the name and by order of King Garvan, like Saint Nimoe, slew one of these beasts of Aeris. He wore the skull from that day on as a trophy on his armor.

He led his troops bravely and relentlessly into the summer campaign, had the Lairdom constantly produce new war equipment and brought it to the frontline, where the machines reduced the settlers' camps to rubble and ashes. Feared by his enemies and revered by his followers, he attracted the hatred of the settlers. At each of the summer campaigns, envious eyes followed him and their prayers to Terra were filled with the desire for his death. Yet all these years, the Bone Queen protectively held her hand over one of her most loyal warriors, resurrecting him as a triumphant victor in every fight, no matter how hopeless. It was her protective glory that forced the infidels to wait - and they did. Waiting for the greatest of their shameful plans to unfold, and when the great Queen stumbled over the betrayal of an old confidant, she had to turn her gaze away from her hero for a moment.

The settlers lured the great Laird of Flowerfield to the gates of their camp, exploiting his nobility and chivalry and luring him into duels with individual fighters, which he generously agreed to. Followers and confidants begged him not to do so, however. Too deep was the uncertainty about the whereabouts of the glorious Queen in their bones and thus also the fear of never waking up again, should their own body be destroyed. And so they demanded of him to withdraw and wait, to surrender to the same doubt and fear that had surrounded their hearts. But Cenneth dismissed them without a moment's hesitation. Called them cowards and punished them with contempt, but they would not give way, would not let him take a step forward.

Then he raised his voice and said, „How can you ask me, in the hour of her distress, not to take up arms in her name? How dare you hide yourselves like dogs from the enemy, who is responsible for her misfortune? Right now I tell you, the moment has come to fearlessly raise your sword and shield and fight for them in her name. And should I fall, it will be done. But a death on the battlefield, in her honor, is always preferable to a life of shame, as you will be.“

And there they recoiled from him and were ashamed of their own weakness, while he turned to those settlers who had challenged him. Effortlessly he struck down those who had been foolish enough to fight against him in duels, not knowing that the settlers used this time to unleash the blasphemous magic that tore the soul from the hitherto undefeated champion of the Bone Queen.

Those followers who wanted to rush to his aid could only watch helplessly as the vile heretics disappeared with his soul behind the palisades and handed it over to eternal nothingness, to prevent Cenneth from coming back one day and taking terrible revenge for this heinous act.

Cenneth's confidants, who had survived his fall, quickly gathered troops around him again and worshipped those relics that remained of him: His skull and staff are carried into every battle. Soldiers, whose hearts are gnawed by every doubt, who do not dare to march on in fear of the last, eternal sleep, address their prayers to Saint Cenneth, hoping that some of his courage may touch their hearts, so that they may go straight into their next battle.