History

Arandor approached her and asked what she needed.
Neyra stood up from the bench, and suddenly a sword flashed in her hands.
- You must die, messenger of light!
Arandor instinctively jumped back, and Neyra raised her sword to strike.
Suddenly, a bright light blinded them both, and a furious cry rang out:
- BLDZHAAAAD, in the name of Emperor! The Black Order of Beer Drinkers will not pass!!!
With one large leap, Loken covered a considerable distance and stood between Arandor and Neyra. A huge sword flashed in his hand.
- Back, you vile creature! - Loken roared.
Neyra jumped back, knelt down, staring at the ground, and whispered a prayer.
After a few seconds, a crowd of zombies in leather jackets and ripped jeans appeared from the ground behind her, reeking of sour, stale beer. Their movements were clumsy, and their skin was peeling and blackened in places.
-Arey... arey... arey... arey... mmmm... arey... - the terrifying army muttered.
Suddenly, an army general appeared out of nowhere.
His black leather cloak was worn and torn, his ripped jeans were patched up dozens of times, his boots were torn and held together with some kind of industrial staples, he had waist-length hair, and an uneven beard. He held two rusty swords in his hands.
- Vissi-shmissi! You still won't win! - Loken roared.
- Lokki-shmokki, we'll see about that now!