Who. Am. I.

For thousands of years, stories have gone from mouth to mouth. Tales of horrors and heroes, reduced to nothing more than a children`s story, what  a waste. Wandering tales easily forget the details, all the wonderful, holy, bloody details. Despicable, wasteful, infuriating, all stories have a reason to be told. A story can shape countries and crumble kingdoms. Yet, the worst of all is that all the good stories are always about heroes. Brave men and women, defeating mighty dragons, liches and wizards. Too many stories have been seen and told by one side, even when the “good” are losing. 

I hate heroes. 

That time is over, there are thousands of mighty tales who need to be told. That is why I am here. I have long forgotten my real name. Now I am called by many names. The Writer, The Historian, Speaker, He who knows, and so on. Yet there is only one name I will use as it was given to me by my Exarch, The Scribe. It is my sacred duty to retell the tales of the undead. The Exarch of Agony has bestowed upon me to write, document and tell those tales. The mighty tales of his legion. The stories of the Lady`s most faithful. Now find my stories and read about the horrors you will meet on the battlefield. If you dare to read the tales, the tales of the Tomb Choir. 

The Scribe of the Tomb Choir.