A general born to rule

The ancient horrors that awaits

In the heart of the Unknown, a massive war council was gathered beneath the darkened skies. The twisted canopy of trees shrouded their meeting place, an eerie clearing dominated by ancient stones and half-crumbled statues. Around a large fire, the various factions of the Unknown forces met—humans, blood elves, trolls, vampires, and goblins—each leader seated at a stone throne that reflected their standing in this twisted hierarchy. The tension was palpable as these uneasy allies came together, all bound by the common goal of defeating Valorcrest and its allies.

At the head of the gathering sat Rogar, the Troll King, his massive frame barely contained in the throne carved from stone and bone. His fierce eyes gleamed in the firelight as he spoke with a booming voice. His authority over the factions was unquestioned—trolls were the dominant force in the Unknown, and Rogar made sure everyone knew it.

To his right sat the human Warlord Kael, a cold and calculating leader, second only to the trolls in power. His armor was adorned with runes and the blood of fallen enemies, and he spoke with a sharp edge, carefully measuring each word.

The Vampire Lord Malakar sat further down the circle, his red eyes glowing softly in the shadows. His presence was one of quiet menace, his vampiric soldiers revered for their strength and speed in the night. But though they were feared, they had been pushed down in the hierarchy, their once-great influence diminished.

At the edge of the council sat Selara, the blood elf enchantress, her green eyes flickering with frustration as she listened to the others argue. Though the blood elves wielded powerful magic, they had long since fallen from favor, forced into an uneasy alliance with the stronger factions. And beyond even her were the Goblin Chiefs, the smallest and most expendable force, barely given a seat at the table.

The council had been in a heated debate for hours, their voices rising and falling as they discussed the strange new weapons and machines that Valorcrest had brought to the battlefield.

"These… machines," growled Rogar, his massive fists slamming into the stone table, causing a ripple of fear through the ranks. "They cut through our warriors like butter! Metal beasts that spit fire and death—we lose hundreds before even reaching their walls!"

The others nodded grimly, their forces suffering under the technological might of Valorcrest's Cold War-era weaponry. The blood elves had attempted to counter with their magic, but even their spells faltered under the barrage of bullets and artillery.

Kael, ever the tactician, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "We cannot win this war with brute strength alone. Valorcrest’s technology is beyond our understanding, and their allies, even with outdated weapons, have become dangerous with their newfound training."

"Their machines move like the wind," added Selara, bitterness lacing her voice. "Our spells barely scratch their surface. If we do not find a way to fight back, our forces will be wiped out."

A heavy silence fell over the group. They all knew the truth, as much as they hated to admit it. Valorcrest’s power was growing, and their strange combination of magic and technology was proving impossible to defeat.

Rogar clenched his fists, his eyes burning with hatred. "There is… one option left."

The council stirred, whispers spreading through the ranks as all eyes turned toward the Troll King.

Kael frowned. "You can’t mean… it?"

Rogar's face twisted into a cruel smile. "We have tried everything else. This war will not be won by mortals alone. The time has come to awaken her."

A cold shiver ran through the council. Even the Vampire Lord Malakar, known for his stoic demeanor, seemed uneasy at the mention of this ancient power.

"The Dark Goddess," Rogar continued, his voice heavy with anticipation. "She slumbers beneath the earth, her power sealed away for eons. But she can be awoken… and she will turn the tide of this war."