As happened many times in the past the Fell Ice once again charged down from the north and attacked the world in its effort to turn it into a frozen ball of ice. Only the White Magic and it's ally the Sun could stand against such a vast enemy.
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The snow began to come down heavy in swirling gusts as the Dark Lord followed his small rag-tag group of slaves. His three Dread Lords were up ahead and his Black Sorcerers were spaced throughout making sure the column of slaves kept moving along the trail. They walked to meet his fourth Dread Lord who was waiting with the Dark Star he commanded. They were about half a day away with a small army of barbarian warriors they enslaved with spells of compulsion from the southern lands. The acolyte was at the western end of the Grimfangs with a force of almost a thousand men. The Dark Lord was pleased, he had not thought it possible that one Dark Star and a Dread Lord could compel so many.
The Dark Lord walked along with his pack of deadly black wolves about him. The number of the beasts around him had grown. From the six he had ensnared originally, twenty now traveled through the snow at his side. Twenty more walked with the Dread Lords up ahead. The wolves were trapped into their service when they tried to feed on slaves sent out to lure them. They were forty killers as deadly as any of their strongest enslaved warriors. The wolves still did not much care for him, nor his Dread Lords, as they snapped and growled every time they came near. Yet the black wolves obeyed, through the power of their minds and a the spell of compulsion they controlled them.
He was surprised when suddenly the mangy pack of wolves stopped in their tracks and crouched low to the ground. Their snarls, growls and barks were replaced by low, miserable whines. Seconds later ferocious growls could be heard coming from the rocky outcrops ahead, near the plain where they walked.
"Dread Cats!" the Dark Lord thought, the commotion was at the front of the column where he could not see. He sent a mental command out into the aether to his Dread Lords and Dark Stars who walked up there, "What news of the big cat attack, report thine lost!". It would be an inconvenience to him if any of his Dread Lords or Dark Stars were lost at this time. No matter how strong his followers were in the Black Magick they were no match against a Dread Cat attack.
"Only slaves, Master," came the reply from one of the Black Sorcerers. "Two who stumbled too close to the rock".
"Keep thine rabble close about, or it will not be just slave the cat dines on tonight," the Dark Lord warned to all. He could I'll afford to lose anyone with the threat coming from the south.
The Dread Cats were dangerous foes up here in the high north. Not only did they hide in the rock with their camouflage coats of muted grays, black and white, they possessed a magick which made them impossible to sense with the Black. He tried once again, as he had many times before, to cast a spell to net one of the big cats, much like he did with the black wolves, but to no avail. Their minds were too closed off, too strong and too infused with an ancient magick of another age. They could not be ensnared by any conjure he could contrive. The Dread Cats were not for him. Too bad, he thought, as they were awesome killers.
The Dark Lord mused on how he could learn much from their ambush ways. Dread Cats were masters of concealing themselves and coming from nowhere to trap and kill their prey. The attack on the slaves gave him an idea on how to deal with the threat riding towards them. He knew exactly where to set up an ambush in which to ensnare those coming. He would trap them, and perhaps kill them, just as a Dread Cat would.
