The following is an excerpt from a story I've been working on. Please enjoy.
The clanging and screeches of metal awoke Gundir from his sleep. Hastily strapping his sword to his waist, he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped into the cool night air. He instinctively sniffed the air and caught the scent of campfire smoke, salted pork… and blood mingled precariously in between.
"What's going on?" he barked at a nearby guard. The main shrugged and resumed his duty of staring blankly at the horizon in search of an enemy they wouldn't see coming anyways. Gundir scowled and stalked off towards the bonfire pit, where the flickering flames and shadows illuminated the figures of two men battling to the death. Upon closer inspection, Gundir could see that one of the combatants was Lord Farrax, grinning maniacally as he plunged his broadsword into the other man's heart, whose garb, as Gundir could now see, was emblazoned with a Pyromancer's sigil.