They boiled forth like ants seething from the dark cauldron of their creation. Thousands of black skinned Thrallachs, embodiments of the malice festering in the broken heart of the enemy. Long had they dwelled beneath the rocky flanks of the Sundrian Mountains, biding their time until their dark master called them forth once again.

Like bloodhounds on the scent, the Thrallachs could sense war. Their red eyes glowed like simmering embers in the night, searching for their first victims. Many would suffer and under the weight of their numbers, the villages and cities of men would burn by their torches. How sweet the taste of death and destruction of works of beauty. Not so sweet as the ages long past, when the Thralls would feast on the flesh and the works of the Elves, but savory enough.

Night was their ally, and this night would be long. The horde was driven by the whip of their dark master, one of the Thirteen. A Necri. One of the ageless black sorcerers of the Dark God. Even the Thrallachs lived in fear of the Necri, a fear so strong as to drive men mad and send them fleeing in terror at the sight of one.

Most of mankind were weak serfs, without weapons and easy targets for the Thralls. Their sweet, fat flesh made for feasts such as they had not had in a century. The creatures and mushrooms living and growing in the stygian depths of the world were nothing compared to fresh bloodied meat.

Not all of the manfolk proved to be so easy. Some resisted the natural order. The tall ones to the south in Terrallia were best avoided. Too much like their Elven ancestors of old with weapons and armor the Thralls could not match. Only the iron fist of the Necri drove them to attack the empires of the half-elven.

The northern folk were less organized, more scattered in many villages without walls of cold iron to guard them. These were the first places the thrall would seek. To draw out the lords from their castles. Then their strength in numbers would overwhelm. Then they would feast, chomping at the flesh with dagger like teeth, lapping at the fresh blood with forked tongues.

**I was not really sure where I was going with this...I just wanted to write something and get some words out. I have been away for a while and am trying to stoke some creativity.