My company and I were once an unstoppable force of unnatural capabilities. We were a small mercenary group sent out for all the elite bounties. We called ourselves the Ghost Brigade and I was the Officer. My followers called me Sir Warison. My men and I were comitted to rid the countless bounties throughout the lands. Our last hit sent us to a cave in the Greypeak Mountains for the heads of an Ettin and that was the night all of our lives ended. One of my men took point to scout ahead. Suddenly through the shadows, numerous claws dragged him into the darkness. Without hesitating, we rushed in to only find our impending doom. We stumbled into a cave of vicious trolls. After the trolls took everything from our lifeless bodies, I watched them flee as I slowly bled out. Ghouls crept from the shadows and began feasting on my friends. I will never forget seeing them crouching over my friends lifeless bodies, tearing them apart and eating anything their appetite allowed them. Then, everything went black. A Gnome stood on top of me as I awoke. He had golden armor with a symbol of balanced scales resting on a warhammer. It was a holy worshiper of Tyr and he was standing on my chest. He ressurected me and told me that he had heard a voice in his prayer to come to the mountain. Just when a Ghoul finished eating my left hand, he killed them all. On our way out of the cave, I saw all the trolls that had killed me and my friends standing in a circle with their weapons drawn to the center. The Paladin had cast a ray of light that turned them all into stone. I pledged my life to Tyr that night and he gifted me with a metal hand, a reminder to stay true to my Oath.