In the Black Fang headquarters of Khanduras, most of the Fang's top ranked officers and agents have assembled in the ruined dining room to hatch a scheme on which their survival depends. Against the oncoming legions of hell, what desperate plot will they form to escape oblivion ?
Another assassin walks into the shadowy dining hall, gently closing the large door behind him. He finds his peers sitting on stools, chairs and even tables in a semicircle at the end of the room. As the Fang operative gets closer, Denning's disjointed locution becomes clearer:
"...from the brink of extinction will the vestiges of the Black Fang rise once again, like broiling embers stirred by the coals of terror..."
Ephidel's sinister voice slowly picked up where the former speaker's sentence died off:
"...depending on the choices our leadership makes", he cautiously said before flashing a look at his sister Sonia.
"Then stake your choice. Every dagger counts", challenged Legault in his most serious tone.
The newcomer brushed past this man they called the Hurricane, and seized an empty seat.
"Hah? Since when are we a democracy?", mocked the strident Vaida at the expense of a bemused Hurricane. Some broken laughters in the group showed appreciation for her cantankerous humor, but they were instantly muted by Sonia.
"Enough!"
The woman had authority among the Fang.
"You've all heard the reports. The Burning Hells' dark champions are at our very doorsteps. The rumors of demonic influence having infiltrated our organization are now confirmed. Swift countermeasures must be put into motion."
The massive hallway doors screeched loudly to announce the arrival of a pair of Fang misfits, failing badly at subtlety.
