The shadowed halls reek with the scent of incense but decay. Flickering flames illuminate glyphs etched into the damp walls, these dark designs pulsing with an unseen power. A circle of robed figures chant in a tongue lost, their voices rasping. The air crackles in anticipation. Tonight, the ritual unfolds. A goat, bound and gagged, bleats in terr

Upon the ravaged plains of sector, where broken earth stretches to the horizon, a symphony of destruction unfurls. The Blood Legion marches, a tide of savagebloodlust. Each step thunders with the rhythm of butchery, a macabre rite to their twisted faith. {Theirflags flap like the wings of carrion birds, each bearing the {grimmark of a broken heart