Silver was the moon, cold were the winds and silent were the souls within the Kingdom of Kaldivyr; for the penalty of speaking a single syllable out of turn would be the loss of a tongue.

On this night; the strongest of the Dark Fae were gathered before a platform of jagged rock and iron, obediently awaiting word from their master with their heads bowed low as a sign of total obedience.

These vicious warriors were devout to none other than The Great Lord of Calamity, Israfel. A creature of unfathomable cruelty and wrath, destined to dominate each of the opposing Fae realms through endless war and conquest.