Damnathos

Once the Great Split occurred, one of the three leaders formed the Damnathos faction.

The Damnathos people placed their faith in their leader. He felt the history of their new land, of the many tortured souls who had once lost their lives in this place. Convinced of the importance of this connection he felt emanating forces around him, he tried to understand them and … to communicate with this bond. 
He understood then, at the cost of their lives, that these damned souls were asking for the right to walk this earth again…

After a conflicting event on Menulosk, the new land of exile, the people decided to undertake training programs. Warriors of four distinct specializations emerged to defend the new lands of humanity.

« People of Damnathos, the moment we all dread is coming. Our cleavage is inevitable. The upcoming split is proof of our weakness, of our inability to face the difficulties and challenges imposed on us by the gods. This planet is not easily tamed; full of history, conflict and endless battles, many mortals have lost their souls here !

Our only hope: to call upon the damned and the deities present. I feel them, they are waiting for us… »

Neitsab was the last of the leaders to appear before the unified people. Both had given long, well argued and compelling speeches. He would rather leave it to Fate, and appeal to the beliefs of everyone. With these words, many began to follow him, heading west, all convinced that they could trust him, and that he would be their guide, the savior of humanity. But at what cost?

There was no vibration, no sound. It was dead silent. The air was freezing, a gloomy atmosphere in the midst of a dense night. It was one of the few nights on Menulosk where there was not a glimpse of light to suggest any form or landscape. Yet a man was sitting at the center of this plain.

He had been camping here for several hours. Behind him sat many of the faithful, sitting in the same position.What was their purpose? What were they looking for? No one knew, but they seemed determined and fully focused.

The plains were vast, with no apparent vegetation, only sand and rock. Debris laid on the ground, evidence of cracked weapons and shattered shields, a constant reminder of Menulosk’s history.

It was in the middle of this ancient battlefield, each and every one of them kneeling on the ground, that a distant voice spoke out and interrupted the oppressive silence:

« ”T’mbzm pcuiqv mab niqjtm, tma uwzba iumvmvb ti ocmzzm mb ti ocmzzm ti awcnnzivkm. Ti awcnnzivkm umvm i ti niqjtmaam mb ti niqjtmaam ibbqzm tma uwzba. Vwca amzwva dwbzm liva kmbbm ocmzzm ”

Raft after these words the ground shook, and most of the faithful became frightened. Otherworldly cries were heard, and silhouettes appeared, revealing armies of otherworldly fighters; skeletal for the most part, entities for others. A smile appeared across the man’s face as he watched his people rise with each outing of the damned.

It took only a short time for the entities to appear and stand behind each devotee. It was then that what appeared to be a former leader appeared before him, what seemed to be the author of the voice that made the whole group tremble.

Those cryptic words spoken unleashed a swirling wave of screams coming from dead men and women alike resounding throughout the land. The man saw each and every one of his followers fall to the ground, their souls were leaving their bodies as each damned who had returned from beyond the grave rose. As the fallen Leader was closing in on him, the man had little to no time to reflect on what just happened before his very eyes. The man was torn between grief and contemplation, still shocked by the power he had just awakened.

His soul absorbed by the returning Leader, he collapsed on the floor and joined the damned of Menulosk… forever.