Scratching claws against a stone unrefined carried by a soul which died long ago.

Skeletons raised from their sack of bones in a rhythmic way, with a clattering that can only be produced by the smacking of bone on bones.

They were the perpetual sentries.

They lived to die.

Once they held flesh between bones.

Now the cold air siphoned through the cracks that littered their mangled bodies.

Void of life but not of battle.

Entering the catacombs revealed an ancient metropolis of forgotten marble covered in rustic sigils that hummed in lost power.

Of times gone and forgotten but not lost.

Of lives lived and lost.

This was the graffiti of their ancient times.

Of the people that died but weren't allowed the freedom which comes with death.

A tragic spell worked its evil purpose on the land.

One that imprisoned souls in a way that broke my soul.

Clutching at my heart, I composed myself.

I was the captain after all.

The man who is turned to when times are hard because he is harder.

My men can falter but never myself.

Around me carnage ensued.

We had entered a large chamber decorated in banners torn of a country that once thrived. Along the marble columns chains lay scattered, as if a beast was once held in this chamber.

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Which, going by the lore books read by Enrich, they had.

Franklin was the name of the abomination that would spell the inception of this forgotten society's downfall.

Now, Franklin rested.

Being a Raid infrequent, meant that he only spawned rarely.

We were lucky.

Franklin was left to slumber.

After a few runs we would go from hoping he didn't spawn to upset that he hadn't appeared.

For now, it's better to keep the first run smooth and simple.

The forty man raiding party is broken up into different sections.

Our tanks are led by Brutus and they cover the uppermost perimeter.

Within their ranks unified battle shouts are all that can be heard.

Rallying cries that increase their fury generation, buffing battle shouts that increase threats, and iron skin potions burning within their systems.

A miasma of war.

The Gods of battle smiled down as they held the shrine of tacticians amongst themselves.

Their opposites rest directly across from them, the enchanters and healers which provide their support from the farthest reaches of the aggro range.

Penelope and Rose, the twin girls with complimentary eyes and personalities that synchronized lead the heals in an orchestra of magic.

The rest of the remaining members made up the scattered dps groups that littered the battlefield.

From mages who flung spells from afar, to warriors and rogues that waited for their moments to strike.

In a corner of the raid, the officers oversaw the battle.

When the flow of the combat shifted, we would send orders to correct accordingly.

Enrich and the Old Tacticians, we called them that out of admiration and sometimes, over a bonfire and ale, in jest as well.

Those who held battlefields before, raiding years ago, now helping with the operations of warfare, the logistics and none of the legwork involved.

Agramont the wise and the feeble, with his cane that didn't match his stocky frame stood overlooking the raid along with Primus the former field medic, and Arthur the former Mage.

With Enrich in the middle they mumbled over the complications, over events and outcomes that only existed in their minds. They thought of possibilities.

Men who think ahead are truly dangerous, I thought as I watched them with a thankful understanding of just how lucky I was to have such men around me, leading me.

Before I could allow myself to indulge more into the hearts of my men, a shock and cry was heard from the field.

A wail of a thousand sirens shredded the air in a cacophony of wretched agony.

It has appeared...

Yes quite so...

Oh gawd does it look fierce, wouldn't want to be face to face with that abomination.

The old tacticians talked to themselves.

Turning the Old Generals turned their eyes to Enrich.

He was always their messenger for the possibilities that played out like a game of mental chess.

Their eyes spoke, they said, well what are you waiting for.

Enrich cleared his throat.

Captain.

That's your sign to join the fray.

With a smile that spoke volumes.

I answered the Generals who did not ask me directly.

I stand face to face with the worst of this realm.

Unsheathing my blade that hummed with a power that consumed and drained with each pulse.

I strained to not show it's hunger and how it ravaged by body.

And I smile back at them.

With a grin that was for everyone but myself, I flung into the belly of the beast.