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Лор написан на английском.
Undying asks the one woman who has died and come back whether it ends.
Связь с прошлыми выпускамиThe Age of Light
Геройthe Almighty Dirge
A nameless warrior was thrown with his companions into the Dead God's pit, where hunger, madness, and the endless Dirge erased almost everything he had been.
“Where go the living, the dead soon follow.”
Undying and want the same thing from a battlefield and share it badly. 'Take for us, Lifestealer,' Undying says when they stand together. When they do not, N'aix has a verdict.
'Undying, you're a source of endless... amusement.' 'Dirge, your life isn't worth a song.' Over N'aix's body Undying says which is which. 'You steal, we consume.' Who the we is, Undying leaves to the dead.
A nameless warrior was thrown with his companions into the 's pit, where hunger, madness, and the endless Dirge erased almost everything he had been. The Dead God chose him not for oblivion but for service. As Undying, he spreads the song, rallies the sleepless dead, and rises again whenever his body fails.
Death ProphetКанонСоперничествоUndying asks Krobelus whether it ends; she tells him his death is ready and that even his name gives her shivers.
“Undying. Oh! Even the word gives me shivers.”
Death Prophet о Undying · При встрече с соперникомUndying asks Krobelus whether it ends; she tells him his death is ready and that even his name gives her shivers.
“Does it end, Death Prophet?”
Undying о Death Prophet · При встрече с союзникомUndying asks Krobelus whether it ends; she tells him his death is ready and that even his name gives her shivers.
Only when the Dirge of the ceases will this soldier's march finally end.
How long has it been since he lost his name? The torn ruin of his mind no longer knows.
Dimly he recalls armor and banners and grim-faced kin riding at his side. He remembers a battle: pain and fear as pale hands ripped him from his saddle. He remembers terror as they threw him into the yawning pit of the Dead God alongside his brothers, to hear the Dirge and be consumed into nothingness. In the darkness below, time left them. Thought left them. Sanity left them. Hunger, however, did not. They turned on each other with split fingernails and shattered teeth. Then it came: distant at first, a fragile note at the edge of perception, joined by another, then another, inescapable and unending. The chorus grew into a living wall of sound pulsing in his mind until no other thought survived. With the Dirge consuming him, he opened his arms to the Dead God and welcomed his obliteration. Yet destruction was not what he'd been chosen for. The Dead God demanded war. In the belly of the great nothing, he was granted a new purpose: to spread the Dirge across the land, to rally the sleepless dead against the living. He was to become the Undying, the herald of the Dead God, to rise and fall and rise again whenever his body failed him. To trudge on through death unending, that the Dirge might never end.
