History of Kabroz

Chapter I: “In the beginning...”
It was an ordinary day in an ordinary Moglin village with an ordinary Moglin village name. Ordinary Moglins did ordinary things and an ordinary Moglin baby was born. At least everyone thought he was ordinary. And there was really no signs that indicated that this little Moglin boy would do anything special. He had red skin and green eyes, looked harmless and cute. Everybody assumed that he would become a normal Moglin. Of course his parents knew he would become any mothers dream and make gifts for brave adventurers all day long. But they would all be proven wrong, in time.
At an early age this little boy, that was given the name Kabroz after a grandfather that no one had ever seen, fell into a well. He was playing with butterflies when the ground suddently collapsed under his tubby little legs, and he fell, deep down into dark water. He started swimming, but he only sunk even deeper. A moglin body isn’t really designed for swimming, and his ears (that moglins usually use to when there is need for swimming) was not really the strongest part of his body; he hadn't began making his hear-ups like so many of his friends, he did not really attempt to attract the opposite sex just yet. He passed out. When he woke up, he was lying in a field. It was night. How he had ended up there and how he had survived remained a mystery. He wandered through the high grass in the dark, and managed to find his way home. When arrived home, his parents started yelling at him and hugging him. They had been extremely worried about him and made him promise never to disappear like that again. But all those hours those hours of darkness and cold water had transformed him a bit. He didn’t notice it, neither did anyone else. There was a dark spot inside of him, a small spot that no one noticed but Kabroz, and he just barely felt it. He didn't bother his mind with it. But this small little insignificant spot would become a very important one in the future...

Chapter II: “The Stranger”
Kabroz grew up to be a happy and healthy moglin, doing his homework (healing toads and then making them gifts) while his brother Zorbak was acting strange. His parents was so concerned about Zorbak and what he was doing so late at nights that they didn’t notice that Kabroz had a real talent of healing, being nice and making gifts that would make many fully grown male moglins jealous. Kabroz pretended that he didn’t want their attention, even though he had always loved to be noticed. He became silent and started acting strange. He felt like he was alone in the whole world. Zorbak met a stranger that took him away and promised him greatness. His parents were happy for him. Kabroz was not.
One day while he was pretending that he tried to make a flower grow while he was actually just thinking about the little moglin maid that he couldn’t stop looking at, and wanted to snuggle and wuggle around with and telling her how pwetty she was, a man in a long black cloak sneaked up on him from behind. He grabbed Kabroz’ shoulder and said:
“Do you like flowers?”
Kabroz turned around, surprised and angered because he didn’t want to be distracted while he was fantasizing about a girl ehmm… I mean… helping a flower to grow. But still, the voice of the stranger made him spellbound, and awakened a feeling that he had always had inside him, but never noticed. A feeling that made him want to stop healing, which he always had thought was his one purpose in life.
“Yes… Sometimes” he replied. “When they don’t try to bite me.”
“Do you like making them healthier?”
“Yes, I’m a moglin. We like healing and helping.”
“But haven’t you ever felt tired of it?”
“I have, but my dad says it’s only a phase that all moglins go through. I like healing, all grown ups tells me so, and grown ups seem good at knowing.”
“But how about some Ultimate Healing, wouldn’t that be nice?”
“What’s Ultimate Healing?”
“It’s when you heal something that many moglins say you can’t heal, they’re too injured. They don’t move or even breathe. They merely sleep.”
“Can you really do that?”
“Yes, but they don’t get completely normal, but it’s better than being incapable of doing anything, isn’t it?”
“Wow, that’s really amazing. Ehmm… Can you teach me how to do that?”

Chapter III: “Beloved Master!”
“Of course I can” said the stranger. “Just come with me!”
And Kabroz followed him. He couldn’t stay at home. Something was forcing him to follow this man. He felt something inside him glowing dark and growing and pulling him to the cloaked man. He couldn’t resist it. It actually made him feel good. The man gave Kabroz a map and a compass.
“You will need them some day”, he said.
They kept walking for days. They were talking all the time. Kabroz wanted to know everything about “Ultimate Healing” and the cloaked man, who wanted Kabroz to call him “Master”, wanted to know everything about Kabroz. Kabroz felt that this man cared for him, and he grew extremely close to him. He never wanted to leave him. Then one night, when they went to sleep, the master wanted Kabroz to know that whatever happened to him, he wanted Kabroz to continue his path to become a great necromancer (a word Master had taught him, it meant Ultimate Healer). Those words sent a chill down Kabroz' spine…
When he woke up the next morning, his master was gone. Kabroz searched everywhere near their camp and shouted his name. But no one replied. Kabroz was devastated. He went back to the camp. He sat near the fire and stared into the red flames. Then a snake crawled by. Kabroz picked up the snake, made it was injured and needed healing. Instead of the usual zigzag lines on the snakes back, there were letters. They spelled: F-I-N-D-M-E-I-A-M-I-N-B-A-T-T-L-E-O-N. Find me, I am in BattleOn! Kabroz heart was filled with joy. He put out the fire, took his belongings and started walking towards BattleOn, following the map that his master had gave him. When he had walked approximately 2/3 of the way, he met a Paladin.
“What is a poor little moglin doing out here” the paladin said.
“I’m trying to find my master, he is in BattleOn waiting for me” Kabroz replied.
“What a nice coincident, I’m from BattleOn and I’m soon heading back. What does your master look like?”
“He is older than you, wears a long black cloak and has a gold ring on one of his fingers.”
“Oh dear Lord, he was a necromancer. You should stay away from them.”
“What do you mean by he “was” a necromancer?”
“Well, I did my duty and destroyed him myself. We couldn’t have a man like that in our town. Then we burned his corpse.”
“YOU DID WHAT!!!”

Chapter IV: “Death of the Paladin”
Mad with anger, Kabroz mumbled a few words and channeled all his hate towards this man. The air suddently formed a black cloud that surrounded the poor man and went down his lounges where it choked him annd tortured him to death.
The paladin screamed and begged for mercy, but Kabroz was so mad that he couldn’t hear him. The dark spot inside of him was glowing more than ever, he could feel it. The scream faded out. Kabroz’ breath was heavy, and his eyes were glowing red with rage. He just stood there, shaking over the paladin’s dead body for a long time. A few minutes later, his anger was lightened and he realized what he had done. He started crying.
“Maybe I’m not made for necromancy, it is making me do horrible things.” he thought for himself.
He tried to heal the poor paladin with his moglin magic. He tried over and over again. Then he gave up. He started crying even more. Then he had an idea. He tried to reanimate the paladin. He succeeded, but the paladin only stayed alive for a few seconds and then died again. Now Kabroz was truly mad. He thought that necromancy could bring anyone or anything back, but it seemed it wasn’t possible with someone as good and pure hearted as a paladin.
He started running. He ran towards BattleOn; there was still hope in his heart that made him believe that his master was still alive. Maybe he was powerful enough to reanimate the paladin. When he had been running for hours, he started to see the houses between the trees. He picked up the pace. His breath was heavy and his heart was pounding harder than ever. He forgot about that he wanted the paladin to be reanimated. His master was the only one that he cared about. He had to be alive, he just had to. He didn’t care about the pain in his body, he could only think about his master. He saw him as a father, even though he had only been with him for a few days, but that was enough.
When he reached the town, he asked everywhere for an old man in a black cloak with a gold ring on his finger, but he was not to be found. As it got darker, Kabroz gave up. He went into the forest again and found a cave to spend the night in. He walked in and went to sleep…

part 2

Chapter V: “Looking good, Granemor!”
When he woke up the sun was shining, and for a moment, just for a moment, he had forgotten all of his troubles. Then it all came back to him. But during the night, his brain had digested it all. He tried to remember how much he loved his master, but he couldn’t. He was now just a man that he had met somewhere, sometime. The same for the paladin. He got in the way of Kabroz; he brought his destiny upon himself. And he had insulted Kabroz. Kabroz just killed that man. He deserved it. He hated that paladin. He hated all paladins. Even more than he hated the rest of the world. He hated the world, but he especially hated paladins.
He laughed a bit. But it wasn’t his old, snugly-wuggly laugh. It was a strange laugh silent, but still clear. Hollow, but still full of power. And he liked it.
He left the cave. He went into the forest and found the paladin that he had killed. He stole his red cape. He tried to wear it. It was to long. It was dragging behind him all the way back to the cave. When he finally reached the opening he took the cape of. But when he looked at it, it was all torn apart. He liked that. Now it wasn’t too long. He made a little work on it (he was still a moglin, right?) and made a hood.
“Much better” he thought.
He went down to a small lake to wash the cape, he didn’t like that it was so dirty (once again; he was still a moglin, right?). Besides, the paladin had probably been wearing it for a while and it was probably filled with nasty paladimwit-stuffys. When he reached the water he started scrubbing. Scrubbing and scrubbing. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed. He glanced at the water. Then he fell backwards, shocked and confused. He took a second look and could see that his skin, his beautiful red moglin skin, had turned yellow. Yellow! Yellow-smellow. Smelly color. He didn’t like it. But he looked again. And again. And a third time. Each time he liked his new skin better and better. Besides, red is the color of snugglefest.
“I HATE SNUGGLEFEST!” he thought.
But wait! What the heck was he thinking? He had always loved snugglefest. Why didn’t he like it anymore? He started to feel uncomfortable with his new self. He started walking (as he always did when he felt strange). He kept walking for hours; at least it felt like hours. Then he suddenly woke up. There were dead trees around him. He heard a wolf howling far away. It was dark. The path he was walking on was narrow and filled with big rocks. But he kept walking. He couldn’t stop. Something was pulling him down the little path. Then he saw houses. He picked up pace. He started walking faster. And faster. He started to run. He ran and he ran until he reached the houses. There was a small tavern there with a blue moglin with scars all over his body standing outside. He saw a graveyard not far from the small town. The big moon that seemed to have an evil grin on its face was shining down on the few houses. He was in Granemor…

Chapter VI: “Envy!!!”
He could feel the dark spot inside him glowing. Big time. Something in this town called for him. But he needed to get some sleep, so he entered the Tavern. He asked the big ogre that seemed to be in charge for a room where he could sleep for the night.
“Me have room for ye.” the ogre said. “It be old and filthy but tha bed is as nice as ever. Do ye want it?”
Kabroz felt very tired, he didn’t care if the room wasn’t perfect. He said:
“I’ll take. When do I have to leave in the morning?”
“Oh, me don’t have many guest here so ye can stay for as long as ye feel like, but if ye’re not out by midnight, tha room will be yers for a new 24 hours. At a cost, that be.”
“I should be able to be out by then. Now give me the key!”
“Thar ya goes, Mr. Moglin.”
Kabroz took the key and walked up the stairs. There were not many rooms, but enough to hold more guests than there would ever come to Granemor. He saw a beautiful lady dressed in rd sitting at a chair by a table. There were burning candles on the table. They were twisting and twirling and dancing in the wind, and as always when you are sleepy and exhausted that sight was hypnotizing. Every now and then an adventurer came by to speak to her or some of the other guests. Not many slept in the tavern. Most adventurers just got their rest and healing from the scared moglin outside. He understood them very well. But still he didn’t. This was the kind of environment he had hated all his life. But now he liked it. Another side of his new self. He felt the dark spot glowing and making him like all this. He went t his room and had some sleep.
He slept very well that night and woke up with a smile/evil grin on his face the following morning. He went down the stairs and talked a bit to the ogre. He kept asking if he wanted to hear some gossip. Kabroz finally gave in and asked for some gossip. He told Kabroz that a purple moglin named Zorbak had became famous in the evil parts of LORE. He had created new kinds of undead, strong and reliable. And he had made them funny. That was a new thing. His career was on the way up. Kabroz were going insane. The envy was killing him. He would show everybody who was the superior brother. He went to the graveyard. He needed silence. Wile he was sitting by a tombstone trying to think of something great that would make him famous; he was reading the names on the graves. He read “Laes Iklasson”, “Obin Lan”, Lexander Jert” and then a name that made his heart stop for a brief second. The name on the tombstone was a name he knew all to well. It was the name of his master.

Chapter VII: “The Message”
He couldn't think clearly. His master was really dead. But why had he been buried, why would people let a necromancer lay in cemetery? Besides, didn’t the paladin say that they burned the corpse?
When he could think clearly again he had new hope. If the corpse of his master were still there, he could reanimate him! He started digging. He dug with his hands, but when he realized the ground was too hard he used an old piece of wood that he had been using as a wandering stick for a while to soften the ground and then lay the dirt away with his hands. He kept on like this, for how long he didn’t know, until he reached a coffin he took away all the dirt around it and pulled it up with an unusual strength. He opened and found a – nothing. He looked again. It couldn’t be true! He almost started crying again. But suddenly he saw something. He saw carved out marks in the bottom of the chest. He looked closer. It was letters! It said:
“GO TO BOOG’S AND ASK FOR A MESSAGE FROM ‘THE MASTER OF KABROZ’”
He ran right back to the town and in to Boog’s Inn. He asked the Ogre for a message from “The Master of Kabroz”.
“Me don’t have message fer ya, little Moglin. Sorry!”
“B-But you must have a message for me. I was told so!”
“Sorry, little Moglin. Me can’t help.”
Kabroz felt horrible. All his hopes were gone. The message that his master had carved said that that ogre had it. It clearly said… He realized something. The message said that he should go to Boog’s and find a new message, not that Boog himself had received it. He went upstairs and started looking for the other guests. The woman in red didn’t know anything. Neither did the man in the room next to his. He went into a little lounge. There, on a filthy and wobbling chair sat a little blue moglin with only one arm. Kabroz didn’t expect that he knew something, but he asked anyway. He said:
“Do you have a message from “The Master of Kabroz”?
When he uttered the words “The Master of Kabroz” the little moglin went from shy to terrified. He started screaming. He threw a little piece of paper up in the air and ran out from the lounge as fast as he could. Kabroz picked up the note and read:
“I am not dead. I have only left LORE, I can’t tell you how. Yet, I do not want you to mourn for me. It won’t help you with anything. Continue your path to become a great Necromancer, you have the potential, and I certainly know you have the guts and the ambition. Use your powers as you wish, but don’t give up. This is all I ask.”
XXXXXXXX

Kabroz looked up. He was chocked. How would he be able to make it through his necromancy training without his master…?

Chapter VIII: “Time to decide…”
Now what to do? Should he really do what his master wanted him to? Was it worth it? Would he succeed? He knew he could always go back to his home town and become a normal moglin, he did have a talent for healing and crafting. He would be welcomed by his friends and family. And what was wrong with a normal moglin life. And maybe, just maybe, he would learn how to create good type Undead. An Undead made for protecting people and moglins. That would certainly be a great thing that he would be honored for.
Yes. He would do that. And he would practice right here, at the cemetery. He closed his eyes and focused. Then he started mumbling words. The mumbling grew louder, until it was a shout. He opened his eyes and looked intensively on a grave. Then slowly, very slowly, the ground started to move a little. Something was pushing at the mud. It grew more powerful as he focused all his power at it. But he did something he hadn’t done before:
His master had always told him what to think about while raising the dead; think hateful thoughts. He didn’t do that this time. He thought the snuggly-wuggly thoughts from his childhood that he had deep inside him. Like his parents, the old snugglefests and the girl he liked. He hoped this would make a difference.
A hand came up from the soil. It still had some skin, muscles and some strings from old clothes on it. It stretched up until Kabroz could see an Undead Arm. More and more of the body broke through the soil, until a full skeleton was standing I front of him. It did nothing. It just stood there. Kabroz wanted to find out if this particular skeleton was good or not. But how would he find out. Then it struck him:
“I will ask it to do a good deed” he thought.
And with the most un-ebil but still loud voice he could he said:
“Go to that town!” He pointed at Granemor.
He walked right after the undead. When they had almost reached the town, Kabroz once again used the most un-ebil but still loud voice he could and said:
“Halt! Go in to the third house on your left. In there, you must slay the first being you meet.” He pointed at the Haunted House. The undead started walking again. It entered the Haunted House. It was quiet. No sounds. Quiet. He couldn’t hear anything. Not a sound. No signs of life, real life or undead life. Just the noise-free night.
Kabroz started to feel restless. He didn’t like the stillness. Then the door to the house opened. But it opened with a whisper. Usually it would make a sound that could be heard all the way from the cemetery. But not this time. Strange. Then he saw the shadow from whatever was coming out. He was very frightened. Usually the ghosts, ghouls and evil beings stayed in the house. But now something was coming out, and it was either an Undead that was created by him or someone else. What if he had disturbed the balance by sending a good undead into the house? Or by just sending an Undead in there at all. He didn't know how the other Undeads had come in there, he had never really thought about it. Why hadn’t the beings in there left before?
Then he stopped thinking. He actually stopped breathing, hearing, feeling and believing for a brief second. What he saw scared him to death.

Chapter IX: “Whiiiiiissssspeeeer…”
Out through the door came… nothing. Nothing that he could see or hear, at least. But he could definitely feel its presence. He could feel it come closer, searching for him. He knew what it was. But he denied it. He kept telling himself that it wasn’t real. But it was very real. And it was heading towards him. When it was so close to him that he could have reached out and touch it – if it was touchable – he heard a whisper in his head.
“Noooooooooo…” it slowly whispered. “Doon’t yoooou uuuuuse yooouuuur pooooooooowers thiiiis waaaaaaaaaaaay. It’s wroooooooong. STOOOOOOOOP IIIIT!!!!!” the last part wasn’t a whisper. It was a scream that could have been heard to Lolosia, if it hadn’t only existed in his head.
“Dooooo whaat yooooouuuu weeeeeeeere suppooooooosed toooooooooo……..”
The whisper faded away. He was alone in the night again.

Chapter X: “The Necromancy Stave”
Now he understood. There were no longer any doubts in his head. He would do what his master wanted him to. He would become a necromancer. He uttered a few strange words, and from the haunted house walked his good skeleton. It walked to Kabroz and stopped right in front of him.
“Hmmm…” Kabroz said. And with a powerful blow from his wandering stick he separated the skull of his precious skeleton from the spine it belonged to. He walked away to the skull that had landed a few feet away. He poked it with his stick so that it rolled over on and he could se the “face”. He picked it up by putting the stick under the jaw bone and lifting. The empty eyes were there once were eyes stared at him.
“Nice…” he said to himself.
He uttered a few strange words again, and the skull shrunk and was attached to the stick. He shook the stick a few times banged it to the ground and tried to break it, but it was harder than the strongest plate mail…
“Nice…” he said once again. He picked up the skull of a small cat. He removed two of the teeth, held then between his palm and the top of the skull and mumbled something. When he removed his hand the teeth were gone. He raised the stave and mumbled something else. Now the teeth that had disappeared grew out of the skull like two horns.
The necromancy stave was almost completed. Only one thing remained. He held the skull to his chest and uttered the magic words once again. But he didn’t mumble this time. He shouted. He could feel the dark spot in him glowing. Then the spot split up in two. One part left his body and went in through the eyes of the skull. He could feel the stave being filled with dark magic.
There. Now he owned a perfect necromancy stave…

part 3

Chapter XI: “Always a start”
“Perfect!” he thought. “Now to test it.”
He looked around. Ahhh… Which place could be better to be at when you want to try out a necromancy stave than the Granemor cemetery? This time he wanted to make more than one skeleton. He went to the cemetery’s center where the concentration of graves were highest and performed the usual procedure:
1. He focused as much as he could.
2. He raised his stave as high as he could.
3. He thought evil thoughts.
4. He mumbled the words that his master had taught him.
He could feel the power flowing trough him and the dark spot glowing. He looked around. He couldn’t see his creations yet, but he could feel them. They were heading for the surface. He lowered his head and waited a few minutes. Then he looked up. There stood a small group of Undead. There had to be at least ten of them. He smiled. Then he collapsed.

Chapter XII: “One Determined Moglin”
He opened his eyes, and saw the sun shining through the clouds. He sat up. No, wait. He tried to sit up. He gave his muscles direct orders to make him sit up. But they didn’t want to. They said no very clearly. Raising ten Undeads is a lot for an inexperienced moglin Necromancer. So he just kept lying flat on his back. He tried moving his arms. He could still move them, but they were just little chubby moglin arms that couldn’t do much good for him. He turned his head, first to the left and then to the right. And he noticed that he was holding his stave. He raised it. He waved it. He mumbled a few words. And as he had hoped, one of his undead came to him.
“Lift me up!” Kabroz said.
The Undead leaned over him, grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet. Kabroz wobbled a bit, but remained standing. He kept standing and wobbling for a while, and then he started to see clear and standing straight. He looked up again. He could see his Undeads. They all stood exactly were they had been standing when he fainted. Only the one that had helped him to his feet had moved, but now it returned to the spot by its grave where he had been standing earlier.
“Nice…” Kabroz said to himself.
He raised his stave and shouted:
“Follow me!”
Then he started to walk towards the town, with his tiny little insignificant excuse for an Undead Army. But although the “army” was small, it had a great, determined and truly Ebil leader. A true Iron Moglin with a will that would scare away an Elemental Lord. And this was more important than all the Undeads on LORE.
“LORE, prepare to be conquered!” he shouted.
He marched to Granemor and went straight in to Boog’s Tavern. There he asked for the directions for his home village. Boog pointed out the way and gave him a map that showed the towns of BattleOn, Lolosia and Granemor with surroundings.
“Thank you, my dear Boog” said Kabroz. “One day your services to me will be rewarded.”
With these words he started wandering. His goal was set. His childhood memories had haunted him for way too long. His parents would always be his parents, but they had neglected him and given Zorbak all the attention. He just couldn’t forgive them for that.

Chapter XIII: “The Final Transformation”
He wandered for three days and three nights. He didn’t eat or sleep, he was in a trance. When he reached his goal he woke up. He stood at a hill and stared down at about fifty tiny huts. Behind them there were fields with corn and wheat. Oaks and pine trees surrounded the little village to the north and west. The light from the sun made the surface of a little pond near the center of the town. The silent water were full of waves caused by a wind from the south and from playing and swimming moglin boys, who never seemed to get tired of holding each others heads under the water and making perfect dives to impress the moglin girls sitting by the shore, whispering and giggling.
He was home.
He started to walk down the hill. It was like walking in mud. Every step required a lot of courage and determination. But as he was walking, his fear and insecure feelings turned into something else. Something dark. Something that used to scare him. But it didn’t scare him anymore. His eyes were open now. He could se all the things in the world that he couldn’t see when he was a moglin like all others. He could see that LORE was a place where only the strongest could rule. There would never be a fair world, it wasn’t possible. The strongest person would always rule. Someone that never showed weakness. And he knew very well what weakness was by now. It was mercy! Mercy was for the weak. Mercy and weakness was the same word in his world. And that was the true world, he was sure of it.
He kept walking, and as he came closer to the town, the moglins nearby started looking very funny at him. New moglins rarely came to the town, and this one had red glowing eyes and a shredded cape. And he was holding a staff with something on the top of it that represented a thing that moglins tried to ignore; they lived their whole life without ever considering that it existed. It was Death. Death! Death was the most horrible thing in the world for the moglins. It existed, they all knew it, but they never talked about it. So when an evil-looking moglin with a death stick enters town, moglins get paralyzed, they feel an indescribable fear.
Kabroz could sense their fear; it was filling the air and made it thick and cold. Yes, he enjoyed it. His black spot was glowing, but he didn’t know it. He couldn’t feel it. He could only feel the rage in his head.
He had been waiting too long for this moment. Way too long. But he knew, that the more he longed for this moment, his great moment of justification would only be much more sweet.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold…” he kept telling him self.
But now it was cold enough, and it was time to eat.
He reached the town center. Now everyone stood around him.
He said:
“Moglins of all ages and colors, gather around me. I know that you think you are happy. And you are. Ignorance makes you happy. But what about the ones born with the curse that is known as intelligence. You hold them BACK! You hold back the progress of the world when you repeat the brainwash you received at an early age. It has reached such a great level that you can’t even see it anymore. It’s just normal to you. When someone figures out the meaning of life, you make sure that he can’t spread it, so you give him a big piece of steel, a flower and a wounded frog so that he can practice his crafting skills, think that everything is fine and work healing magic. Why do you do this? What is it about knowledge that you fear? Can anyone tell me? Is it the fact that it forces you to make decisions, or is it just your ignorance that instinctively makes you crush all free will? And with free will I don’t mean the freedom to do what ever you want, but the freedom to think by yourself. When you go fishing, you do it because it helps you take your thoughts of everything hard. When you think for yourself you realize that you don’t have to do this, you can reach a great level of satisfaction if you just don’t hold yourself and everyone else back. Now, who wants to step forward and do something that separates you from the crowd? Just that single step proves that you have a mind of your own. So, who will step forward?”
Silence. No one moved. No one seemed to understand. He waited for ten seconds. Then he said:
“Anyone?”
No one stepped forward.
“Very well then, I curse you all. You will no longer think at all, just obey. Get ready for the next level of brainwash!”
He raised his staff, mumbled words that he had never mumbled before. But instead of thinking evil or good thoughts, he didn’t think at all. He cleared his head, Zen-style. He felt something completely new flowing through him. It was not the feeling of life or death, it was a crossover between them.
When he had finished the procedure, he raised his head and stared at… nothing! He looked around.
What the…? There were at least a hundred of them. Dead skin, open mouths. Their eyes were looking his way, but the eyes didn’t seem to focus. They were just wide open, staring in to the nothingness.
“What have I done?” said Kabroz silently to himself. He was chocked and scared. “What have I created”.
He was surrounded by a great horde of what he would later call zombies.
“They’re gone. They’re all gone…”
Everyone was gone. His parents, his friends, his cousins and all other relatives he had ever met. Now the dark spot didn’t glow anymore, it was pumping. It was not a spot anymore, it was his heart…