The Plague Mistress has made herself known. She flies above the giants of Durtarv with her swarms. Beauty is made of sickness. Beauty is made of horror. Marilyn needs the people of Durtarv gone. She had wounded their greatest warrior once. Despite the Hag's persistence, scars, and loss. Marilyn remembers the woman. No matter how she has changed

Blood and drums now beat their warning calls. They are the last to arrive. But they shall wreck havock