Ircron, capital city of Starkefolten, last bastion of life within the kingdom, was surrounded by nothing but badlands, the environment was changing, bleak grass of repulsing texture, blood red trees, imposing spikes were erected, corpses of unfortunate souls displayed upon them.
Some of them were still alive, siege weapons were being assembled, some mundane, some enchanted, some entirely magical in nature, troops of the undead army were lining up, barricades and towers were built, hiding finer movements of the dead from the sight of nervous soldiers watching from afar.
The armies of Fioldron Ferrcrona were also preparing from battles, surrounded from all sides, there was nowhere to run to, fighting was inevitable and there was no negotiating with the undeads, they wanted the livings dead and nothing else, that term was not acceptable to anybody in their right mind.
