[Baalz]

Silverback studied the map. This would not do. The Abysians had proven to be truly intractable foes, digging into their fiery mountains and extracting a large price for each stone painfully dug from their grasp. Immense piles of smoldering undead littered the landscape and more demon bodies than Silverback cared to think about. The losses were far from one sided, and the Abysians seemed to be weakening but far too slowly. While the mighty Lankan armies bloodied their fists pounding burning rock men from their entrenched positions ominous dark clouds built on the far horizons.

Aggressive Fomorian war parties marched unchecked across the land, gobbling up nation after nation. Their size grew and grew, and soon the war mongers would dwarf the size of Lanka while wrapping a border half way around her lands. The rock men of Abysia possessed a wicked cunning on the battlefield, but in diplomatic arenas their geomorphic heritage showed and they seemed unable to understand the concept of a mutually beneficial peace. With his back against the rocks, Silverback chose not to wait for the hammer of Formoria to swing down.

Pouring through ancient tomes he searched for an answer. Night and day candles burned in the lab and servants tried desperately to not be one of the ones present when Silverback expressed his frustration. A steady stream of new servants were brought in as replacements, praying to stay out of sight. After an entire fortnight of the entire Lanka capital treading lightly a breakthrough was discovered and all breathed a little easier. Well, almost all.

From one end of Lanka to the other virgins were snatched from their families. Long trains of bound blood slaves trailed throughout the empire, all funneling into the Lanka capital. For months they streamed in, special paddocks were erected on the palace grounds and great troughs constructed to feed them. As the press of female flesh began to look like it might burst the dam of the paddock and flow out the palace like blood from a slit jugular, Silverback’s command was fulfilled. Fifty score virginal blood slaves were entranced and lined up in a grand queue wrapping around the palace. In one bloody night the blood of all of them flowed into a mighty work and something ancient was awakened. Something dark and terrible.

An ancient, nameless pretender god, the Pantokrator’s one time rival still thirsted for blood. The lifeforce of a thousand virgins sated her hunger for a time and in exchange she sent forth her acolytes to destroy the enemies of Lanka. Throughout the Fomorian lands burning meteors fell from the sky. Yet where they fell stood not a rock but a divine anti-angel broken free from the netherworld and come for blood. Scores fell from the sky across every corner of the Fomorian land, and where their shadow fell blood ran deep and red. Hot on their heels flocks of imps and demons blotted out the moon as they swooped to claw at the screaming and cowering giant peasants. On the single night that Fomorians now call the Night of Blood nearly half of the mighty Fomoria burned and the remainder stood in shock as the morning light revealed the bloodthirsty Dakini eying the remainder of the giant lands.