Another blizzard swept through the Far North, one of the twice-monthly storms that lasted two weeks at a time.
The slanting wind and snow howled, turning the world into a gray pencil sketch.
Jagged rocks stood out in stark outlines, including a gargoyle outside a Ratfolk camp.
Its sharp claws dug into the rock. It stood among the stones like a statue, its smooth, black-gemstone eyes fixed on the large building at the center of the camp.
Demons never let down their guard around the Ratfolk.
Allies? To demons, there was only one difference between enemies and allies: one was an enemy, and the other was not an enemy yet.
The Sixth Legion under the Succubus Queen was somewhat more disciplined, but its demons were still wild and unruly. They could not even stop killing one another. Why would they think any better of their allies?
Gargoyles dusted with snow stood all around the Ratfolk camp. But inside the large building, a ritual was underway without the demons' knowledge.
Flickering fluorescent green light filled the hall. The High Priest stood before the statue of the Great Horned Rat, his dancing shadow almost covering the figure behind him.
The Greyfur Rats knelt throughout the hall, their cold, obscure prayers in the Ratfolk Language filling the space:
[Whose body was covered in fur?
Whose sharp horns grew toward the sky?
When rivers turned green and the sun grew cold, when mountains ran dry and the earth was scarred,
When life was sacrificed and stars fell to the ground,
When lakes became Fel Energy and oceans became whirlpools,
The great Great Horned Rat would awaken,
The great Great Horned Rat would awaken.
The great Great Horned Rat would awaken!]
Gurgle... gurgle...
The Black Mole writhed in pain on the Experiment Table, waves