This is sorta like a day in the life but is more of a backgound for Gladoc, the first deathknight. over the course of the story I will probaly bucher some history but hopefully not to much Preface/intro
  I guess it has been a long 26 centuries, full of pain, suffering and sacrifice.  By all the Shertul I never thought I would be around this long.  When I was growing up I was wondering if I was going to see the next full moon let alone my next birthday.  Now the idea of a few orcs posing any threat to me is just Laughable.  I, Gladoc, Death’s right hand man and one of the most powerful beings in this world.  I can count the number of people who pose a threat to me alone on one hand.  But back then I was Gladoc the farmhand incapable of fending off an even a lone wolf let alone an orc.  I was born in 7463 of the age of Allure – right before the famous spell blaze that has shaped the world.  And the spell blaze shaped me just as much.  It was the spell blaze that allowed me to become one of the greatest beings after the Shertul.   Like anything good I have paid the price for all of this power.  Friends have died around me and countless enemies have before me.  During the spell hunt I opposed those who try to extend their life beyond normal means and now I am just that.
Chapter 1: the beginnings of survival 
 During the first two decades of my life orcs where everywhere even though the war was around 50 years old.  You would think that after 50 years one side would lose but the humans stilled clung to victory.  At this point in the war there was no unified command to speak of.  Sure there was some lord with a few hundred troops under his command but that was about it.  The only thing that prevented them from winning was that the orcs had no leadership to speak of.  If Garkul had been around at this time there would be only orcs and trolls in the world.  
 I was born among some human farmers and was raised in the village of Erobrad until I was about 8.  The village had no defense besides the 30 or so farmer militia men.  It was pure luck that Erobrad had survived as long as it did.  While the town militia could fend off about 5 orcs without too much trouble.  But there where bands of orcs numbering in the 30-70 range that could have wiped out the village with no trouble.  You see two orcs could beat 3 human soldiers barely.  Those same orcs could take out 3-4 militia men if they were trying.  The orcs were just so much stronger than us and much better equipped and trained. Sure the orcs couldn’t make well-crafted weapons very well but that does matter when it is swung with enough force to cut a human in half.  The only thing that we had on our side was organization. This allowed us to survive from small bands of orcs that marauded the country side. 
 When I was eight Erobrad was destroyed,  completely destroyed.  One of the larger bands of orcs had located the town and decided it would be fun to loot it for that day’s entertainment.  I think there was 45 orcs in that band.  With the manpower at our disposal there was no way we could hold out. We would have better luck stopping a sword blow with our bare hands then stopping that attack.  To make matters worse they were able to surprise us.  They had  a few orcs capable of quietly eliminating the sentries the town had posted.  Then the rest of them came through the town with torches ready to burn everything.  When this happened I was at the town well drawing some water to make soup.  The adults told us if we heard orcs to find the nearest spot to hide in and hide until we saw another human.  Well I headed that advice and jumped into the nearest possible spot I could hide in: the well.  The town well was only about 20 feet until the water level.  After the drop I was able to cling to the walls and stay silent while listening to the town being butchered above me.  Hiding in the well did have one drawback though and that was the fact that the orcs dumped corpses down the well to poison the water.  The first corpse dropped was almost enough to startle me into giving away my position.  I lost track of the number of corpses they tossed down but it was enough to bury the water. 
 So here I am scared to death, wet and buried in corpses.  Sadly I was not strong enough to push aside any of the bodies trapping me in the well.  After two days of being trapped I began to lose conscious and was near death.    What happened next was pure luck.  Soldiers came to the town.  Even better was the fact that they needed the well.  So when they started pulling corpses up they found me.  The soldier who pulled me out of the well and stuck some bread down my mouth was Fioril, one of the younger soldiers in the company.  After I ate and drank a bit I was brought to the leader of the company: captain Murcyn.  I was given a simple decision – go with them as a cooks assistant or be abandoned in the wilds.