The reach of the abyss grew longer and harsher as the aura of the blessed touch faded from the town of Angelfall over the centuries. Once more it was the dwarves that marched, bringing their obsidian creations with them to bring wrack and ruin to all in their path. Still sore from his previous encounter with the twisted reflections of the proud dwarf nations, the Vampire Lord leapt at the opportunity to bring them low. A different general lead this horde, but the destruction of his troops would be no less sweet.
Monday, 17 October 2016
Sunday, 16 October 2016
Shadow Stalker. Pack alpha. Leader of the hunt. Bravest of the tribe. Proudest of the forest's keepers. He and his people had lived in the forests near the abyss for many, many winters, tracking the unnatural and keeping Nature's sacred places clean of abyssal infection.
In recent years, however, the abyssal presence grew too strong, pushing his tribe and Nature's other protectors back and forcing them to find other homes. Shadow Stalker and his pack fought a rear guard, helping the others escape, and losing many in the process. Distraught at the losses his tribe was suffering and angry at himself for being unable to protect more of them, by the time they were clear the pack was reduced to four. Abandoning the rest of Nature's cohort in shame, Shadow Stalker settled his pack in a new forest nestled around the base of some mountains. There they stayed for a few seasons, making a small home. Unnatural things occasionally wandered by; not abyssal, but deathly. Human corpses walking in the night. Pale purple humans with black eyes and rotten breath skittering to and fro. The tribe was small, but strong, and was easily able to dispatch those infrequent interlopers.