• The bodies of the fallen lay lifeless yet they still collect hatred. As tho some dark magic was feeding there fire of rage. There faces marked with pain in such detail as if there souls were still chained to there lifeless corpse. In the middle of the bloody mess stood a lone barbarian all war torn. He was covered in blood and some gashes in his arm were still bleeding from the bloody massacre. He pulled his blade out of a fallen enemy and as the blood dripped off his blade he looked to the sky and yelled "have i proven my self yet" as if the gods answered no the fallen bodies arose with life. they had pain in every movement as they stumbled to there feet and gripping there weapons in hatred for the living. With there bloodthirsty roar the barbarian tightened his grip on his weapon in fear of what might happen as he stared hopelessly at the reanimated corpses of his friends and foes. As he charged in to battle he wraps his left arm around an enemies neck using them as a human shield as he slew the others. Through his blood and sweat he didn't even put a dent in there numbers. When it was to late he realized they had formed a circle around him. In rage he put his left arm back down with a swift movement he snapped his human shields neck and tossed his limp victim to the ground. Knowing he may have lost he dropped to his knees and released his sword in anguish.