The ones you call Grey Men are aware that Men perceive them as primitive, but they are not.

They comprehend the movements of the stars and understand the effects of the elements, manipulating them skillfully. They uphold traditions, burying and mourning their dead while celebrating life. They don't record their history—neither in words (written or otherwise), nor in rough drawings, nor in songs—because their children are born with the actual memories of their parents, and so pass on their knowledge from one generation to the other.

They are a simple folk—not because nature made them that way, but because they choose to be closer to the thing Men calls the Balance.

Unlike the language of Men, theirs is not confined to words; it's a blend of words, sounds, emotions, and movements. They are sensitive to other creatures' emotions, feeling them, reading them, not much unlike as you read a book. But their library is endless and everywhere.

They also prefer not to be called Grey Men; they refer to themselves as the Verdantkins. This story will be about one tribe of the Verdantkins. The Verdantkin tribe, of which Knorx was the leader of, had settled not too long ago to the south of the Rheinhältskette. Today, there is a small hill, actually not much more than a bump in the otherwise flat landscape where nothing grows. It was here that Knorx and his people were buried, to be forgotten forever.

Verdantkin life is not always free of conflict. Disagreements and infighting, akin to those among Men, occur. Some conflicts are resolved, while others result in groups leaving a tribe to form their own. Knorx's parents were part of such a group, who was forced to leave their home.

Two of his parent’s close friends decided to choose each other as lovers, contrary to following their King's connubial ties he had arranged for them. Their friends’ love was viewed as selfish, and with the girl being pregnant, it became an irreversible choice.

So, it came to be, that a group of nearly 30 members made a pact to start their own tribe and embarked on a long journey south to the Flatlands. The journey was surely hard and so were the initial years at their new home, but with time they adjusted and life got easier.

After many years, their Queen, who led them to this new home, passed on to the After, and she surprisingly chose Knorx as their next leader and passed on to him her wooden Crown.

Reluctantly, he accepted, but once he held the Crown, he understood he was not alone. The Crown was more than just a symbol; before passing to the After, the old Queen had left a small piece of herself within it. Thus, it aided Knorx in making difficult decisions. With its help, he found the right balance between individual needs and community requirements. Being decisive when necessary and compassionate when needed, life improved under his leadership, endearing him to his people.

Everything was good, and then Men started to settle nearby.

Initially, Knorx was concerned about their arrival, as change could mean three things: No change, good change or bad change. However, as time passed, the newcomers kept to themselves, and his worry subsided.

From a distance, they observed them felling trees, constructing houses, clearing roads. Knorx and the other Verdantkins joked that no matter how hard Men would try, the world had too many trees for them to cut them all.

After time passed, they observed Men cultivating the land and growing wheat and corn, both of which were new to the Verdantkins. Some of their younglings stole corn from Men at night, a behavior Knorx did not like. There was a difference between living off the land and stealing from a neighbor.

If you could ask Knorx, he would tell you that there was never any direct interaction between the Verdantkins and Men. However, he was mistaken because there was one, and had he known, perhaps so much could have been avoided.

It happened on a late summer day when one of the Men’s children caught a young Verdantkin stealing their corn. Stealing corn had become sort of a dare for the Verdantkin children. Enraged by the Verdantkin stealing their hard-earned produce, the Men’s child struck the Verdantkin with a stick. In retaliation, a nearby group of Verdantkin children attacked the Men to defend their own friend. Fortunately, no serious harm was done to anyone involved. Nevertheless, it sowed the seeds of mistrust that ultimately led to the downfall of the Verdantkins.

Men couldn't understand the Verdantkin and, from the beginning, were fearful of them living so close to their homes. The incident of one of their children being attacked by the Verdantkin was enough for them to justify to themselves the actions they would take next.

Thus, it happened that in the middle of the night, Knorx awoke, sensing the presence of men surrounding their village. He could feel their fear and adrenaline, followed by the pain of his own people.

Concerned for his tribe, Knorx jumped up and rushed outside. As he grabbed his crown, he could hear the screams of pain, fear, and anguish from his tribe members. Opening the door of his hut, he was confronted by one of the men's younglings standing right before him. The child must have been standing there for some time, gathering the courage to enter and carry out his assigned task.

Knorx saw not only the fear etched on the child's face but also felt it intensely. It wasn't a fear of him, but rather a dread of the task at hand. Attempting to reach out, Knorx tried to comfort him, to show that it didn't have to happen this way. But then, the child thrust his spear into Knorx's belly.

The youngling's fear and the cold metal were the last things Knorx felt... he died before he could even fell his own pain. And before the sun rose, Men buried Knorx and his tribe in an unmarked mass grave near by.

The Verdantkin might be dead, but their spirits lingered, confused as to why the Men attacked them in their sleep. Over the next view decades, their spirits soured in the dumping ground, and the earth swelled, creating that small bump—a lifeless mound on which nothing would grow. And anyone approaching the mound could sense that something was amiss there. So, it became known as the Dead Mound, avoided by all the people of Nürnrock.

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The slaughter of the Verdantkin was meant to be forgotten, but like any other secret, it did not remain hidden. One of the young lads who participated in the slaughter confessed to his daughter on his deathbed. She, in turn, was married to a young man in another village, and she shared the secret with her husband. He, concerned for his son's safety, advised his sons to stay away from that place. The sons, in their turn, shared the story with their own sons, creating a chain of revelation.

Decades later and miles to the south, Singurd (at that time little more than a sellsword with scant reputation) learned of a myth concerning a hidden Verdantkin burial site near Nürnrock. The village was famed for its horse training and promised rich plunder. However, Singurd sought more than mere wealth. He was no longer young for a sellsword, yet not old, and he aspired to more than dying as a mere warrior with a sword in hand. His ambition was to meet his end as a king, unlike any the world had ever seen. A king whose legacy would endure beyond the end of Men. King Singurd.

But how could a mere sellsword, known by name only, become a King? He knew of another secret tied to Nürnrock, one he had learned another day and that could truly pave the way to his dream of kingship.

Merging the myth with the secret, he journeyed north. Through his own investigations, he quickly located the site of the massacre and, shortly after, the Dead Mount.

On his way up north, Singurd had obtained a Spirit Lantern, which he had taken from the lifeless grasp of a Sexton. Spirit Lanterns, used by the Sextons of the Golden Church to assist the deceased in finding their way to the After, house Dead Spirit Flies which, upon release, seek out souls and guide them to the Unseen Doorway. A traditional Spirit Lantern is engraved with three runes: one for the Afterlife, another for the Doorway and a third for Guidance. These runes instructing the flies in their task.

Singurd took his lantern to a blacksmith skilled in Rune Marking (a craft of infusing metalwork with Rune Magic.). The blacksmith skillfully altered the rune for the Unseen Doorway to the Holder of the lamp. Thus, when Singurd released the Dead Spirit Flies, at the Dead Mount, they sought any lingering spirits, guiding them not to the Doorway, but to Singurd himself.

It was then that Singurd first encountered Knorx. His spirit manifested before Singurd as a light blue, foggy apparition of his former self. His spirit, lost and bewildered, still struggled to comprehend why Men had attacked his tribe.

Singurd, not a man of many words, got straight to what he believed was the best and only way to garner Knorx's support: "Do you seek revenge?"

And Knorx only replied: “Yes.”

And this was all it took for Singurd to raise an army of the dead. The other spirits were just too willing, to followed their leader Knorx, and Knorx, in turn, followed Singurd.

Singurd and his ghostly army waited in the dark for the village to fall asleep, anticipating the opportune moment to launch an attack, reminiscent of how their forebearers had assaulted the Verdantkins.

The village was fortified with high wooden walls on all sides, and sentinels guarded the night. If they wished, Knorx and his men could have simply walked straight into the village; there was little concern that the people of Nürnrock possessed any holy weapons to defeat an army of ghosts. However, Singurd had no desire to be caught up in a battle where he was the only vulnerable fighter on his side. Moreover, there was something he wanted to reach and secure before Knorx did, the one thing he really needed to fulfill his desire to become King. Thus, they waited until everyone had fallen asleep, including the sentinels who began to doze off.

The attack commenced with a lone Verdantkin stealthily infiltrating the Nürnrock, moving through its walls as unnoticeably as fog. Silently ascending the stairs to the sentinel's location, he swiftly slit the sentinel's throat with a bone knife he had held for a long time now. He then opened the and Singurd silently guided his army through the slumbering village. Only the horses in their stables stirred, sensing the presence of unholy entities.

Each Verdantkin selected a house to target, while Singurd headed directly for the Horse Lord's residence atop the hill—his intended destination. The one object that would bring him one step closer to his future kingdom awaited him there, and he aimed to reach it before Knorx could. With Knorx currently preoccupied with seeking revenge, the moment was opportune for Singurd to take action.

Opening the door, he walked into where the Lord of Nürnrock slept. Although Singurd felt indifferent towards this man, who had never wronged him, the man would need to die by his hand. And his hand alone.

In the years to come, the small folks would sing the song of the Battle of Nürnrock, though there was no battle, only a bloody slaughter.

After his bloody deed, Singurd sat on the lord’s throne for a while until Knorx walked in. In Singurd's grasp rested an object of significant meaning to Knorx from days long past—the wooden crown of the Verdantkin. Knorx’s old wooden Crown.

The day Knorx died the Horse Lord's grandsire seized the Crown from his lifeless hands. Unaware of its significance, the young man could sense that the Crown would bring him great fortune. The very year, that youngling started the breeding of the legendary Nürnrock horses which would bring fame and riches, especially to him and his family. And so started the line of the Nürnrock Horse Lords.

As time passed, the first Horse Lord began to sense that his fortune was thanks to the wooden Crown. Fearing others might envy him for this power, he kept its possession a secret; a secret that was passed down to the eldest son from one generation to the next. It was intended to remain between father and oldest son forever. However, one older brother divulged the secret to a younger brother, who, in turn, shared it with a camp follower. So, the secret continued to spread until it reached Singurd.

Singurd might have been a brute warrior, but he was not without wit. Hearing the story, he understood that within this Crown resided power, and that it could serve as his pathway to escape a simple warrior's life.

Over the years the Crown had exerted a pull on Knorx, for it harbored its own desires—to be reunited with the former King of the Verdantkin. However, Knorx, engrossed in his quest for revenge, paid little attention to its call and by now there wasn’t much left of the Knorx the Crown once knew.

The Knorx it remembered was a member of a family, a devoted husband, and a nurturing father. He embodied the essence of a leader who regarded his role not as a privilege but as a solemn responsibility. Resting on his head, it sensed more than just concern for his people; it felt the profound love he had for them. But seeing Knorx now it felt none of it anymore.

Slowly, all the other Verdantkins entered the hall, appearing more lost than before. They stared at Singurd, who sat on the throne, holding the Crown. After what seemed like an eternity, Singurd placed the Crown on his head and commanded everyone to kneel. At this moment, Knorx and his men knew that they were no longer Verdantkin. They were, in fact, no longer anything—just tools, Singurd's tools. They all knew that he had used them, but they felt so hollow inside that they didn't even care anymore.

So, they all kneeled to Singurd.

Singurd, not a simple Barbarian anymore, not a King yet, but a soulless devil.