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I was the son of wealthy farmer in Alterc, in the months leading up to the invasion of the Undead Scourge. As pressure from the attacks mounted, my father became desperate and hired the services of a band of mercenaries called the Gauntlet Grip. The core members consisted of 5: a mysterious rouge as the gangs leader known as Mangec; his right hand man a dwarven weapons expert Mart Vantarg; a former student of Kirin Tor and refugee of Daleran, Cherven who excelled in controlling the undead; Rom’felg an orc that did not want to follow thrall across the ocean and a fallen knight of Lordaeron, Sir Claymont ‘Sarger’ Ruderfeld. With them came battle ready orcs headed by Rom’felg and more soldiers from Lordaeron who had become freelance along with Sir Claymont.
While they managed to hold back one attack from the undead, they ended up double crossing my father. One night before another undead attack, they pillaged our stocks and family treasures. They stabbed my father in the back and kill my sister in her sleep. My older brother and I did our best in defending from the gang’s attack, however we were over thrown. After a flash struggle, only the gun used by the Mangec was knocked from his grip and they made an escape. By using the necro-powers of Cherven, they made a part in the sea of advancing undead. This left myself, my brother and a handful of workers to defend from the undead. Realising that escape was the only option, but we fought our way through to the horse stable and made a break for the mountain pass that lay behind our property. All the workers had perished in the progress, and my brother had sustained grievous wounds from the fangs and claws of the monsters. As we travelled away, these wounds became worse and were turning my brother into the undead we had just escaped. This was when I realised I had unconsciously picked up the gun that was dropped by Mangec. My brother got off his horse and stood on the road and begged me to finish him before he lost his body to evil. As I held back tears and refused to do so he saw the gun I had been inspecting. He tore it from my grip, whispered a prayer to the light and shot himself in the head.
From that moment my life is that gun. The gun that shot my father in the back, allowed my sister to be slaign in her sleep, reduced my familys property and my home to rubble, and forced my brother to take his life; this gun now was my sole focus for living. It was my means for revenge.
I managed to survive to the nearest town that was untouched by the undead, and picked up the trail if the sugar hill gang. I followed them across lorderon as they pillaged in the ashes and turmoil of the undead attacks. As the undead presence became dominate, I tracked them towards Miniril Harbour, where lower orc and human mercenaries were double crossed by the main five. The Cherven used her influence on the undead to wipe them out. The last I had heard was that the five set sail for Theromere Hrobour, and carried with them all the spoils from the plunders across the dying lorderon. I will to travel across the world and find them and I will kill them one by one.
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