Garrim awoke face-down in the mud. A second later the pain hit him, forcing a groan from his winded body. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and how he had got there, but when he finally gathered enough strength to lift his head and look around, he realised it was too late. His family lay dead only a few feet away, their bodies mutilated by the random strikes of skeletal warriors.

Those same skeletons stood still now, swaying gently in the whistling wind, as he dragged himself across the ground towards the cold feet of his dead wife. He didn’t noticed the people coming up behind him until he heard a dusty whisper in his ear.

“It’s too late for them, you know. You’ve already failed them.”

A pale and wiry hand gripped Garrim’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back with ease. He looked up into the face of a smiling creature that once, long ago, could have been called human. A battered set of light armour encased its body, with a dull and faded rose painted onto the breastplate. Garrim had heard stories, but until now had never seen a lich with his own eyes.

“Now we’re going to resurrect your family. We’re going to kill you as well, mister dwarf, and you’re going to join us. Then we’re going to march down to Urist and destroy whatever is left, shapeshifters, giants, dwarves and all. We’ll do the same to their bodies, and then we’ll keep going.”

Garrim’s threw his arm out to grab his axe, but was intercepted by the lich. It laughed dryly.

“Oh ho, so you do have some fight left in you. Groshnak is rarely wrong about these things. Well, I’m going to give you a choice. You fight my companion. If you land a blow, we’ll let your family rest in peace. If you fail or refuse, then we take you all anyway. All you have to do is land a blow. Personally I’d not bother with this sort of thing, but Groshnak wants his sport. A fair fight. Nod if you agree.”

Garrim could do little else. The lich whispered commands in some foul language then disappeared from his view. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was met with the sight of a beautiful, shining creature. He felt his strength returning, and heat entering his muscles. He felt alive in a way that made him certain he had finally died.

The glow faded, revealing a chained elven girl, barely a woman, chained to a skeleton with heavy iron shackles. The elf had healed him and placed his axe in his hand. As the elf withdrew and Garrim stood up, he was able to get a first glimpse of his opponent. There was no mistaking Groshnak from the other monsters. He was enormous, clad in dark armour with glowing red veins and a huge sword slung across his back. Someone had landed a blow on him before at least: a long scar in the helmet covered a ruined left eye. It gave Garrim hope, and he charged before the beast could draw its sword.

It was impossible to be that quick, yet here they were; Groshnak had drawn his sword and blocked his blow with ease. Garrim withdrew and charged again, but Groshnak moved and swiftly kicked him into the mud. Expecting a blow to his back, Garrim rolled over, but Groshnak simply stood there and smiled. Garrim was outclassed.

Garrim had stayed alive this long by fighting smart, so he did what he always did when outclassed and looked for a weakness to exploit. The most obvious one was Groshnak’s useless left eye. Garrim stood up and charged again. He feigned a blow to the right, turned to the left and swung with his back exposed. It was a stupid move that would never penetrate armour and left his back exposed. But he didn’t need to survive, and he didn’t need to deal damage. He just needed to land a blow.

Garrim was rewarded with a shower of sparks, but Groshnak took advantage of Garrim’s weaker position by grabbing his neck, pushing him to his knees with a kick, and twisting the axe out of his hands. Garrim was surprised to find the orc simply holding him still instead of breaking his neck. The lich clapped from the sidelines.

“Well done, mister dwarf! You sacrificed everything to land a worthless blow. It’s impressive. You’re actually the first person to manage it since we started playing this little game. Now, I know we said we’d leave your family alone…”

Garrim head a growl behind his ear. It wasn’t a friendly growl, and it wasn’t directed at him. The lich paused.

”…very well. Bless the bodies.”

Garrim watched as the elf was brought forward again to bless the bodies of his family. He had failed to defend them against the undead horde, but had at least spared their souls from a terrible fate. He prayed for their forgiveness until Groshnak ended his life.