The shadowed halls reek with the scent of incense but decay. Flickering flames illuminate glyphs etched across the damp walls, each ancient designs pulsing from an unseen power. A circle of robed figures chant in a tongue lost, those voices hollow. The air crackles in anticipation. At this hour, the ritual begins. A goat, bound and gagged, bleats

From the abyss of darkness, a monstrous melody emerges. The notes are cruel, each one piercing the veil of sanity and leaving behind a trail of desolation. This is not music for the faint of heart, but rather a discordant symphony that chants of pain, vengeance. The very air chills with the stench of blood and fear, a palpable reminder of the horro

Upon the ravaged plains of plane, where twisted metal stretches to oblivion, a symphony of destruction unfurls. The Slaughtered Few marches, a tide of crimson armor. Each step thunders with the rhythm of warfare, a macabre tribute to their barbaric ideals. {Their banners flap like the wings of demons, each bearing the {grimsymbol of a broken heart