Year 1134,
Silence lingered as Heron a prince of Lumer stood in middle of a horde, a horde whose end cannot be seen on any side.
A horde which is not of men.
Rotting decaying flesh who have been dead for long stand on all sides of him. Heron while feeling fear unlike ever in twenty fours years of his life didn't show any emotion towards the horde that caged him on all sides.
Heron knows what these are, he knows the folk tales of rotting decaying undead men whose most distinct feature would be their lack of a jaw & at the appointed time they will come forth as the harbinger of end times.
As kingdoms in far lands foght for powwr to take over one another, Heron in his exploration has found the thing all of the world needs to rally against.
But the moment the prince entered the domain of the jawless, his fate had been sealed, he will not bring the news back to his kin or be able to rally all of the kingdoms against this dire threat, he will not be the hero.
As the horde closes in on him, he doesn't even flinch. Swinging his sword at all directions he takes out as many of the monsters he can with him.
But slowly the jawless closed in on him, reaping his flesh from his body.
No one saw what happened on that fateful day.
No one would've held anything against him even if he cowered in fear.
Yet, Heron of Lumer died fighting,not screaming once till last of his breath was taken & flesh was reaped.
The world on the other hand, they were fighting their own futile wars, unaware of the coming of doom, the appointed time had come & no one was ready for it.