Morcatia Shattered Realms-Sands of War

Three

Dorrath

Ernash gazed out at the massive gathering of wraiths lining the streets of Dorrath. A force of three hundred dark and rotted animated bodies separated into battalions of fifty stood silent awaiting his orders. Dorrath had been a small blacksmithing settlement in the days before the Great War.

The settlement itself stood at the foot of the Wind Scarred Peaks, a large range of red and brown mountains, spanning the length of Tepir from the northern border to the vibrant Sundew Forest in the south. The foot of the mountain opened to a great fyrestone mine the people of Dorrath once extracted ore from to craft the fyremagic weapons and armor Darabia's forces used in battle. The great forges now stand cold and dilapidated, barely a skeleton of what it once was. The small limestone buildings and houses are all falling to dust forgotten by time.

The road to Darabia stretched a half mile from where Ernash stood. He stepped up to the top of a crude platform made of broken pieces of limestone and sand, littered with human bones.

"The time is near! Soon we will march upon Darabia, and slaughter those animal skum!" Ernash bellowed to the army before him. "When Radna calls we shall answer! Leave no animal alive, death to the Bitch queen!" A deafening roar erupted from the crowd before him. These thralls were barely sentient anymore, only piloted by their instinct to kill Primal warriors. They would obey only Ernash. Black ooze seeped from his fanged mouth, dripping onto his leather armor, made from human flesh. The crowned skull of the Phantom King was branded on his chest panel.

He stood seven feet tall, towering over the lesser wraiths before him. His dark skin was scarred from years of battle, some from the fighting pits in Necroloft and most from war with the Queen's armies. He wore a tusked helm he tore from the carcass of a Crimson Herd warrior, its red color dulled by damage and corruption.

He stepped down from the dias and strode over to a small building to his right. Inside stood Arioch, who was leaning over a map of Darabia. Arioch stood almost as tall as Ernash, though way bulkier. His long dreadlocked hair hung from his unhelmed head, though half of his head had been scarred by Primal magic. He turned his pale face to Erioch as he entered.

"I've finished turning the rest of the humans, and all of the eligible are on their way back to Necroloft." Arioch snarled as he traced his finger along possible routes to flank the enemy.

"How many?" replied Ernash.

"Only five,"
Arioch was charged with filling the ranks of Ernash's force by magically lobotomizing the humans and corrupting their brains to crave Primal blood.

"Forgive me for that one," he growled pointing to a bloody carcass in the corner of the dust-filled room. He had eaten most of the woman's torso and drained the body of most of her blood. "The rituals require much."

Ernash regarded him with a slight nod,
"Good. Radna will bring the specimens when the signal is launched."
Ernash left the room and went back to inspect his troops. He walked through their lines one by one ensuring all were armed and armored properly. Behind them were three crude iron cages each holding primal wraiths inside. Large boars corrupted by wraith magic waited patiently to be unleashed on the primal forces. It wouldn't be long before the signal was given. He would taste primal blood soon.