A bloated moon hangs over the blasted lands of the White Kingdom. Atop a bluff overseeing a sea of the crawling dead sits Doresain’s mausoleum. While the screams of the eternally damned fill the night air of this abyssal world, a low chanting from within a deep chamber of the mausoleum speaks to a far more sinister future.
“You have done well, Captains,” whispers the ghoul king. He crawls over a mound of black dust and ragged blood-lined stone. “You are to be commended.”
A being of stone and metal stands on one side of the chamber’s entryway. On the other stands a battle-scarred earth.
“You two have sailed chaos and the Astral Sea longer than most others ever have. You have survived battles against countless beasts and marauders who would see your ships crushed and your crews enslaved. You have taken part in a plan greater than any other ever conceived.”
The crawling Ghoul King looks up, affixing the two pirate captains with his dead eyes as he smiles.
“And your part is not over.”
A twisting line of fire wraps around the orc captain. He screams as it burns through his body. The Marut reaches for the wide-bladed axe on his side but a slash of white light sears past. His head falls from his body. Doresain catches his body as he falls, steering the oily black substance that pours out of his body into the carved grooves of a huge dark scripted circle that surrounds the mounds of black dust and blood-lined rock. Doresain stands with alarming speed and slashes open the burning orc captain’s throat. Soon his blood too fills the grooves of the enchanted circle.
The flow of blood begins to mix with the black dust and rock. It begins to coagulate and solidify into something else. It begins to form into a featureless humanoid form, massive in size.
“I will need more,” says Doresain. “Collect the crews.”
A huge red shape moves past the ghoul king as smiles again, drawing one clawed finger through the black sludge of a dead god.