INTRODUCTION

Davyn Feyranti was the youngest son of Dalthani Feyranti, and he chose a path separate from the rest of the family.

Little was known about his life until his journal was discovered, but only a few pages were legible. Despite that, our family has decided to share the contents with the world as a picture of the years and decades that followed the Taint Wars.

PAGE 1 (A DREAM)

I decided to join the ur'Guard, and my father was surprised by the decision, so he asked me why. The question caught me off guard, but it has been on my mind ever since.

It was no simple choice.

In our family, there are certain expectations. All of our actions must contribute to the advancement of the family, and our focus has been on the Nihilists. For that reason, both Liianak and Sachlanac will follow in our father's footsteps. It was expected that I would do the same.

Perhaps I would have, but when I was younger, I saw something that changed everything. At the time, whispers of war were growing ever louder on the wind. In Celest, a new Lord General of the Paladins had risen, and his shrill cries for a holy war were loud and frequent.

Already, skirmishes had been fought near the borders of Stewartsville, and ur'Guard patrols were frequently seen marching to and fro, their armour and blades gleaming in the darkness.

The conflicts started far away, and then they began to creep closer. Our entire city prepared for war, but all my attention was on the ur'Guard. Every time, they returned from a march, their armour seemed darker, as blood and mud blotted out the gold.

Then the battle came right to our doorstep. In the dead of night, they circled around us, and set up camp outside our gates, within the Blasted Lands. We awoke to them yelling taunts and waving weapons. Into that noise, the ur'Guard marched out, and I ran straight to the North Taint Tower so I could see it all.

The Celestian raiding force attempted to face the charge of the ur'Guard head on. It did not end well....for them. Their formation broke under the pressure, but the battle raged on. As the Celestians retreated, it became clear that there was order to the chaos. A young merian with a scar across his forehead kept reordering specific groups of their ranks into pincer formations and sending them back into the fray. Against this tactic, the ur'Guard tightened their lines and became a wall of death. Their blades flashed, blood flew, and bodies fell.

It was beautiful. I knew then what I wanted to be.

PAGE 2 (RIVALRY)

Witnessing the deadly precision and discipline of the ur'Guard in action is a memory that I will always treasure, but I wanted more than to just watch. I wanted to be in the midst of it all, drenching myself in the blood of the Celestians. I wanted to be an ur'Guard; that desire only grew stronger and more urgent until the spark became an all-consuming inferno.

Nothing else mattered, and I even started training myself three years before I could even enlist. I would wake up in the morning, grab my wooden blades and commence my practice. Over time, I established a rhythm, flow and structure, and it all became a daily ritual. Distractions were intolerable, and my brothers knew that well.

Several times, they hid my practice swords and then refused to tell me where they were. The first time, I accepted it as fun and games. The second time, I got them back by stealing their books. But the third time, I lost it.

I saw Sathlanac first. With one look in my eyes, he must have known what was coming, but I didn't give him a moment to react. I flew across the room and slammed into him with the full force of my momentum. Then I started raining blows down on him. I lost count fast but the next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. When I looked up, there was Liianak, but I barely had a second to register his presence before his fist collided with my jaw and bright lights filled my vision.

After that, everything became a blur. Liianak was bigger and stronger than me, but my rage had taken over. I barely remember anything but I know that I hurt him, and afterward he started treating me a bit better. Sathlanac though.... got me back in a horrific way that I don't even want to think about.

I'll never tell them but I appreciate my brothers for making me strong. And tomorrow, when I enlist, I'll get the opportunity to grow even more.

PAGE 3 (BROTHERHOOD)

A year has passed since I donned the black and gold armour. Time seems to have moved so quickly, but I still wake up at the crack of dawn. The habits developed during bootcamp have become ingrained, and in rare odd moments, I even miss the familiar pattern of waking up, strapping up and then getting the crap kicked out of me.

Each day was filled with drill sergeants yelling obscenities, long marches, and combat training. Failure was not allowed, and harsher conditions awaited any who stepped out of line, but we few who endured it will spread fear and desolation like no other generation before us. That is the vow that we took when our bodies seemed on the verge of collapse. Training took a heavy toil, and many recruits gave up. As each fell off one after the other, a core group was formed, and we called ourselves Urlach's Blades: Kylix, Syrala, Trekas and I.

Kylix was the first to stand out from the crowd. After long days of training, his jokes and antics had a way of lightening the mood in the barracks. We even started to call him the king of jesters, but one day he took it too far. During a long march, he suddenly burst out in song, and his loud voice broke the concentration of the line. The reaction was swift. Our drill sergeant, Rathgar, yanked him up and blindfolded him. Then he was placed at the end of the line and made to march using sound as his only aid. Several times, I saw him wander a bit off course, but not a second would pass before Rathgar would be there, cuffing himupside the head. I still tease him about that.

Syrala proved her mettle during combat training. Quick and lithe, she demonstrated an almost natural proficiency with the blade, but what made her stand out was her determination. After she embarrassed a few of us, some decided to put effort into breaking her. It created a notable shift in the training environment; Sparring sessions became battles of life and death. It was quite common for bones to be broken, flesh to be severed, and blood to flow. In that feeding frenzy of brutality, Syrala not only survived, she thrived, and so did I.

Trekas surprised us all. He was the most unlikely ur'Guard I ever saw. He barely reached my elbow in height, round as a button, and he was furrikin on top of that. I judged him, but I was wrong. When others fell, he stayed the course. When others whined, he silently trudged on, and over time his tactical mastery started to shine through. He excels at figuring out little tricks and stratagems to overcome stronger opponents. He even gives me trouble.

Each of them, I trust with my life, and that will soon be put to the test. We've been ordered to raid Delport.

PAGE 4 (FIRST BLOOD)

The day of the raid, we met in the wee hours of morning to review strategy. According to our plan, Trekas was going to act as our advance scout. He was confident that he would be able to reach Delport unseen and unnoticed, and we believed him. Once we received his signal, we were going to teleport in and commence the operation. It was simple, and we envisioned getting in and out, leaving only blood and gore in our wake.

All scouting reports had led us to believe that the village would be undefended and ripe for rampage, but when Trekas arrived before the gates, he saw a different reality. Statues had been erected along the path leading into the village and archons patrolled the streets. Regardless of that, we still had a mission to complete so we teleported in anyway.

Once we arrived, we retreated a short distance, shifted our target and devised a new strategy. Kylix and Trekas split off and traveled along the Estengare to hit the village from the back, and then I and Syrala ghosted through the defenses and into the Chatemaine d'Amour amidst the chaos. Kylix and Trekas were tasked with causing as much confusion as possible, and they accomplished that by cutting down villagers in the street, at random locations, using ghost to appear and disappear as desired.

Then as the guards marched to and fro, Syrala and I watched them from the manor, like vultures, and we fell on any small groups that got isolated from the pack.

Soon enough, we whittled their numbers down to nothing, but we didn't even have a moment to celebrate. Celest had finally roused themselves to action, and we could hear the audible sound of boots striking the ground, as we stood in a pool of blood.

We saw them coming and my eyes were drawn to one in particular. He was a merian and he had a scar across his forehead. Right then, I wanted to stand and fight, but I knew we had to retreat.

AFTERWORD

In the original text, a portion of the last legible page was ripped from the journal and no evidence of its contents could be found. But we will not desist in our effort to uncover the truth of the past.

Research is being conducted into the lives of that entire generation.