[ IP ] Lava Ruins

They call themselves the Unleashed. They were demons once, not even that, demonic beasts, barely tamed and bred for war by the unholy hordes. Now they are something else, something between people and monsters. And in the desert Badlands, on the slopes and in the valleys of the Charred Peaks they built a home for themselves amongst the mortal races. With their foul magics, they turned the sands to ash and the skies into storms. 
 
 Hellspawn or no, the mercantile princes of Veluka did not care. Their neighbor across the desert would sell strange spices and metals mined beneath the Charred Peaks, in return for slaves from across the world. Not for labor though, as breeding stock, to dilute their corrupted blood before they turned to mindless monsters. 
 
 They say the Unleashed are warriors, waging a constant war, but nobody quite knows who on. Not their neighbors, who steer clear of them. Who, then? The heavens, who cast their forebearers out so long ago? The abyss, from which they were exiled in turn, or did they escape? They do not say. 
 
 Once, only once, the Unleashed went to war. It was in the later days of the Radiant Church ’ s madness and zealotry. Hundreds of their own people had been branded heretics and cast out to the desert to die, for the smallest of crimes. Imagine their outrage when they were found alive and well. On the rich ash, under the rain of the storms, they grew crops and tended to herds, kept safe from bandits and priests by a wall of tooth and claw. 
 
 Was it the defiance of their god-given punishment? Was it the culmination of years and decades of hatred, preached against the hellspawn? Or was it simple politics, an excuse to seize rich farmland and precious mines? In the end, it didn ’ t matter. The Bright City went to war against the Unleashed. A great crusade was called and launched. And the Unleashed fell back. 
 
 Victorious, the crusaders erected a line of fortresses, to serve as bulwarks against the forces of the hellborne - Adria ’ s Line. They pushed again, and the Unleashed fought, but fled. So became Bastilla ’ s Line. Then Cedric ’ s. Then, finally, Deidre ’ s, in striking range of the Great Sietch of Acheron itself. 
 
 And it was there, against those black walls, that the crusade was broken. Another was formed, and that too was broken and driven back. A third laid siege to the Sietch, but the Unleashed ’ s raids bled them of men quicker than the Sietch bled supplies. The fourth crusade… the fourth crusade never formed. 
 
 They say the Unleashed are warriors, waging a constant war, against an enemy the rest of the world dare not face or see. It consumes them, drives them, occupies them. But sometimes, when a threat is dire enough, or persistent enough, or annoying enough, some of their attention can be diverted. 
 
 Once, only once, the Unleashed went to war. Once, just once, a hundred years ago 
 
 The ruins are yet to stop burning. 
 
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