The infantry sang marching dirges of cadance.

 

Devil Daemon get your fill

Land your arse on my window sill

Lured 'em in with a piece of SOUL!

Then I smashed its fug-kin  BONES!

 

Sound off!

 

1

2

 

Sound off!

3

4

 

Wave after wave crushes thru the vangauard of the old wood. Water is spoiled, game is exhausted, humanoids are runoff or absrobed into the masses of warmongers. Birds migrate and plants wither in thier wake. The HORDE brought all the burning cold of Pandemonium with them.

 

Hades on Earth has come. But not as it had been foretold. For they marched on the Gate. A thing so powerul it could birth random wormholes and time continuiums. The future and the past were now at stake.

 

Almost nothing can stand up to the organized endless ranks of the HORDE'S enslaved nations, hell-orcs and undead. Thousands of victories and millions of souls had gone into its raising.

 

Like a giant anaconda it snakes its way across the landscape bringing  famine, destruction and winter.

 

Infantry ranging from undead brontasaurus to the mammoth sun-shadowing Rocs overhead moves under thier iron clad hands.

 

Each line of killing machines is reinforced with lightning from above. Each stroke of the seemingly random electricity gives the troops more power as it slams into thier ranks (regenerates them) Every single form within bulks up with more constitution and stamina with every hit. Ahead of them the roving freak winter storm pulverizes the surroundings.

 

Hidden in one of the giant warbeasts  warchief Ka-Thrall and his principal advisor necro-monger Ravensclaw surmise the situation.

 

Overlooking a network of stringy sinew strung bettween a  series of uptunred bloodfilled skulls the two view several places at once using many protals and scrying devices. Ravensclaw casts thru these items and puts his hexes in front of the plodding troops in order to ease thier passing.

 

Leagues ahead they watch and evaluate the Gate of Asmodeus, In silence they watch the Brass citadel crawl thru and take root on this plane.

 

It was official. The Devils had come. The hand of the Prince of lies and found a grip here.

 

Looking to the rift Ravensclaw turned to Ka-Thrall. It is time my lord. The Beast has landed.

 

Ka-Thrall looked into the projected image. He scanned it for weakness and subterfuge. At last old friend, an enemy worthy of our station.

 

Lifting but a single lip the mage answered, Indeed