Mountmend was a small town, located high in the mountains of Canowich Heights, known for the magical ore mined from the very mountain it stood atop. It was guarded by the Order Montague, a small sect of paladins, magic users, and other warriors who came from the local region in order to get proper training. In this small hamlet there was barely even a tavern, but plenty of different people came through the mountains, from the mighty Goliaths farther north in the snowy wastes to the lizardmen who made their home in the jungles of the southern peninsula. Thomas had never had any issues getting along with all of these races as everyone was friendly and trouble rarely found it's way up to this remote hamlet, other than the occasional raiders. Thomas was a hardy young man, built up from the tedious work of the farm he and his mother lived on, but he enjoyed the simple life he lived. He had never known his father, as he passed away before Thomas was born, serving the Elecian Council during the Long War. This led Thomas to mature at a young age, as he saw himself as the man of the house. He learned from his small-town life that everyone was worthy of respect, regardless of where they came from or what they were. His mother's tales of his father's feats had shown him that he should be the wall that protected people, not the boot which sought to stomp them out. He grew up knowing he would one day join the Order Montague and be a hero just like his father was. And today was his big chance, as the Order came through once every year looking for new recruits for both martial and magical trainees, whichever the recruits were more skilled at. Thomas had been training under Beverm the Righteous, who was a paladin of the Order Montague that served alongside his father. Beverm was a massive half-orc, clad in heavy plate armor and wielding a mighty shield and claymore, which required most warriors to heft with 2 hands. Despite his people's reputation for being simple minded and violent, Beverm was quite knowledgeable about the world, and kind to everyone he met. When he took Thomas under his wing, he strengthened both his mind and his body, and after a few short years, Thomas was ready for the selection. 

"Are you ready, young initiate?" Beverm asked in his gravelly, deep-toned voice. "Please Beverm, if not now, then when?" Thomas retorted in a smug and joking tone. Beverm chuckled and shook his head as the two marched up the mountainside towards the mighty tower that loomed over the hamlet, forever standing watch. Thomas turned and looked down at his hamlet, taking in the small cottages which had smoke coming from the chimneys as families prepared dinner. Further down, he could hear the steady clank of pickaxes as miners wrenched precious ores from deep in the mountain, which formed the brunt of their economy in this small hamlet. "Might want to move those scrawny legs young 'un, the selection doesn't pick the last recruit just because they can wave a sword around!" Beverm shouted from further up the road. Thomas ran to catch up with his mentor, looking up at the heavy wooden gates as he took a deep breath. 

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The selection process was far from easy, as they wanted to select only the best, but Thomas passed with flying colors through the combat drills and the physical tests. Magic was never his forte, as he could never quite understand how one could simply make plants grow or create fire from nothing. But despite this, he was selected to be an initiate under no other than Beverm. "Ha ha my boy I knew you could do it! Your father would be proud of the man you're becoming." Beverm shouted as they traveled back down the mountain. "Be prepared though, as tomorrow I will take you on your first mission" "What sort of mission?" Thomas asked, worried that his first mission would happen so soon. "Oh, calm down lad, it's just a simple ride along with the convoy to ensure no one attempts to rob them." Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as they came up to his house. "Get some good rest lad, you'll need it for tomorrow." Beverm patted Thomas on his shoulder and continued down the path as Thomas entered his home. 

Far down the valley, a large black shape flapped it's wings and took off of the mountain peak, it's roar echoing across the valley as it disappeared into the night sky. Landing outside of his hoarding cave, Imyt the Deathlord shook, his large, decaying body rattling as exposed bones clinked together. He folded his wings in close as he entered the cave, taking in the many treasures he had obtained over his long life. "Finally," he sighed, "I will have that which was stolen from my family so long ago, and I will be truly immortal." The dracolich cackled, the dry husky sound echoing throughout the cave as he began the rituals in order to summon his undead legions.