[ Models | Lore | Sources | Inspiration ]
The pale man shifted his corrupted flesh, shrugging off the disguising cloak needed when venturing uphive. Here, in his rusted bastion rising out of the sump waters, Ferrue Fayne was the master of the Blessed Flesh, and soon all of Desoleum. Nothing could stop his rise; it was as certain as decay itself. Not even his traitorous brother Darnis, who would dare steal a shard of the primordial relic, could forestall this.
Fayne looked deeply into the item from another world, from an age before men walked upright. There was ancient power here, enough to bring the fallen to shambling life, and summon the Grandfather's children onto this plane. Soon, he would lead dead and daemonic wonders across the hive, and transform it to a temple fit for the Plague Lord.
Within the artefact, something smiled. Soon, indeed...
|Models; Lore; Sources; Snippets; Inspiration; Site News; Contact|