The knight walked out of the meadow and into a dark, brooding forest. Dried leaves and twigs crunched under his booted feet, and all around him were shadows beneath the trees, between rocks and shrubs. He sensed the creatures watching him, and he did not fear them. He was encased in magic steel and wielded an enchanted ax with deadly skill. He welcomed the creatures to try and test their claws and fangs against him. None did, and he traveled through the forest unmolested.

He came upon rolling hills as the mysterious compulsion urged him to head east. The knight paused and tilted their head. "This looks familiar?" He said out loud and was startled that he could talk.

His voice sounded grating as one would expect coming from a fully plated great helm. "I could talk?" He asked and then shrugged.

The knight studied his surroundings. Flowing hills filled with rugged bushes and large stones. The ground before him was churned and uneven, which was curious to him. Was there supposed to be a road here? He wondered. He had been here before but could not recall. His memory was still shrouded in thick fog that it hurt his head to think about it. So he continued moving as realization dawned upon him.

This was a battlefield. How did he know this? He could not recall. However, the sight was familiar to him. Familiar as dirt to a farmer. The knight knew he had been on numerous battlefields and recognized the churned earth and scorched marks from the battle mages. He envisioned where the two armies stood in formation. For a moment, he felt he could hear the trumpets blaring and sergeants shouting orders at their troops. The twang of bows and the electrical sensation in the air from the war magicks. The woosh in the air above from griffons and other mounted flying beasts. If he had a heart in his steel-plated chest, it would be beating from the memories. This would explain why the road was destroyed. A common tactic to ensure an invading force would not be able to establish their supply lines. Devastation, blood, screams, and chaos all around.

He returned to reality and surveyed the landscape before him. The aftermath of such a massive battle was long shrouded in the past. Nature has overtaken much, but the scars and marks are still visible. One can still spot the bones, rusted weapons, arrowheads, and dead earth from powerful magicks that will never recover. And with the correct perception, one can see ghosts.

The knight tensed as a translucent figure made of pale silver light rose from the ground. The being wore a tabard over mail, a spear in their hands, and a steel cap over their heads. The ghost's face was distorted, but the knight recognized the flame-shaped insignia on the tabard.

"Hail Legionnaire, a moment, please?" The armor called out.

The ghost shimmered as it turned to face the knight, and its dark pits for eyes squinted. "Templar? No, that can't be. A templar wears silver armor, not black."

The ghost's voice was a part scratchy and part moan. Unclear to the knight how he knew these things, he saluted by bringing his right fist to his chest. The Legionnaire responded, a trained reflex drilled into it during a lifetime that was long past.

The ghost lowered his hand and slouched as if tired. "Why are you here, templar? As you can see, the battle is long over."

"What happened?" The armor motioned at the battlefield with his ax.

"Eh? The templar does not know," the ghost replied as if talking to someone else. It turned to face the knight and nodded its head toward the west.

"The orcs, goblins, dark elves, and the other denizens of the Wastelands united. The goblins discovered the ancient machinery that was long buried and turned it back on. Portals opened, the gods lost their connection to their adventurers, and the Wastelands waged war against the Imperium."

Wasteland? Goblins? Ancient machinery? All of it sounded vaguely familiar to the knight, and it hurt to think further upon it. Slowly, the fog that was his memory was clearing, but there was still so much shrouded and unknown. The knight shook his head.

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"Legionnaire, I am on a quest to rescue the Gifted One. Does that name have any meaning to you?"

The ghost wavered as they shook his head. "No, it does not."

"I have an enchanted ax. I can put you to rest," the knight offered.

The ghost scoffed. "Eh? Why? I am fine roaming this battlefield. I find it peaceful."

"It's unnatural for the dead to roam the realm of the living," the knight answered. He was confused about how he knew this, but the meaning felt right to him. In fact, it stirred a passion from within his chest where his heart would be if he had one.

"And what of you, templar? Will you use your ax on yourself to find rest?"

"What do you mean?"

The ghost laughed. "The templar does not know what he has become. Eh, it is not my problem. I grow weary, and it is time for me to go. The others are beginning to rise."

"The others? Explain yourself, Legionnaire!" The knight commanded.

"You are no longer a templar, and I am no longer a Legionnaire. My time for following orders has passed. Farewell, I wish you luck." The ghost sank into the earth.

Half a dozen twisted and gaunt figures emerged at the top of a hill some distance away. They were faint shadowy outlines in the darkening sky. They varied in size ranging from the frames of goblins, which were slightly smaller than humans and lithe in build. One was hulking, over six feet, and thick in the body of an orc. The others were human-shaped and sized. Their glinting yellow eyes stared at him. What they were tickled at the knight's memory, but he could not recall. Luckily, a message appeared.

GHOULS

REALITY IS CHARGED WITH MANY TYPES OF MAGIC. THE MAGIC OF LIFE AND THE MAGIC OF DEATH. DEATH MAGIC, COMMONLY REFERRED TO AS NECROMANCY, CAN HARNESS THE RESIDUAL ENERGY OF SOULS TO REANIMATE CORPSES. THIS MAINLY OCCURS WHEN A NECROMANCER CASTS A REANIMATION SPELL. HOWEVER, OCCASIONALLY RESIDUAL SOUL ENERGY AFTER SIGNIFICANT BATTLES MAY CAUSE SOME OF THE DEAD THAT WERE NOT ADEQUATELY BURIED TO RISE AS ZOMBIES. VERY RARELY ARE GHOULS CREATED IN THIS MANNER.

THESE GHOULS COULD BE THE RESULT OF THE CHAOTIC RIFT ENERGIES RELEASED FROM THE MACHINES IN THE WASTELANDS. OR, A POWERFUL ENTITY HAS UNLEASHED THEM UPON YOU TO PREVENT YOU FROM ACHIEVING YOUR MISSION. IN EITHER CASE, GHOULS ARE DANGEROUS. THEY ARE INTELLIGENT AND CRUEL WITH ENHANCED SPEED AND STRENGTH. THEIR SKINS ARE TOUGH, AND THEY CAN SUSTAIN THEIR EXISTENCE BY FEEDING ON FLESH.

THEIR MINDS AND MEMORIES ARE NOT OF THE BODIES THEY INHABIT, AND THEY ARE BEINGS OF PURE MALEVOLENCE AND HUNGER.

The knight gripped his ax in two hands as the ghouls raised rusted one-handed weapons ranging from axes, maces, and swords. Their bodies were covered in rags and scraps of rotting armor. Their mouths opened unnaturally wide to show sharp fangs as they hissed.

Without preamble, they loped inhumanly fast down the hill toward the knight. Their sinewy bodies leaped and bounded over stones, rugged dirt, and shrubs. The knight studied their staggered formation and searched for the optimal target. To his left, a ghoul was further than the rest, and the magic armor acted immediately. He charged the creature and raised his ax as the startled ghoul slid to a stop, unable to dodge. They raised a curved sword, which offered a feeble defense as the ax smashed past the blade and dug into the monster's torso.

The knight yanked the ax free, took a step back while bringing the blade around, and sliced the second ghoul as it leaped toward him. The blow split the attacker in half. A third ghoul slammed a mace into the back armor, and the steel clanged loudly. The knight released one grip and landed a powerful backhand strike that knocked fangs loose.

The ax deflected the fourth ghoul's assault, and the knight ducked the fifth's attack. The final ghoul slammed its blade into the great helm to little effect. The knight impaled the ghoul with the edge of the ax blade as the two remaining creatures hacked away at their armor. One ghoul was kicked to the ground, and the other's head was removed from their shoulders by a clean swipe of the ax. The final ghoul scrambled to its feet and turned to flee. As they loped up the hill, the knight hurled the Dane ax with two hands. The weapon spun blade over the shaft and thudded deeply into the creature's back.

The knight retrieved his enchanted weapon as the ghouls returned back to corpses once again. He did not feel pain but discomfort from the dents and rakes along his armor. The most annoying was the sizable dent to the side of their great helmet, and he felt it as the magic in him popped the dent outwards. The discomfort was gone, and he felt the compulsion again.

ARMOR: MAGIC REMAINING 96.05%

QUEST: SAVE THE GIFTED ONE

GIFTED ONES ARE RARELY BORN. THEY ARE GRANTED TREMENDOUS POTENTIAL AND ARE SOUGHT AFTER BY POWERFUL BEINGS THAT WISH TO CONSUME THEM. YOU MUST FIND AND PROTECT THE GIFTED ONE FROM HARM. THAT IS YOUR PURPOSE!

The magic armor sighed and bowed its helm. He trudged east.