In the heart of the vast encampment, a grand tent stood, surrounded by an open space. Tall mounds of human skulls, which had once belonged to the enemy soldiers, surrounded it like morbid decorations. Inside, the tent was adorned with horns and antlers of dreadful beasts the King of Kings had slain, and a grave silence suffused the air.
Azarax the Mighty, the Plague of Steel, was seated on an imposing throne cut from rough stone. Below him were the commanders of the numerous legions of the Steel Horde — those who still lived, at least. Dozens of Transcendent champions and a scattering of Ascended stood along the walls of the tent, their expressions grim and reserved.
Usually, there would scarcely be any Ascended invited to the war council, but with so many generals having died in the siege or contracted the plague, those who were below them had to assume command over the battered troops.
