Shadows Of Carnage

Azarath stood at the forefront of his team, his piercing crimson eyes scanning the chaos of the battlefield. Shadows curled at his feet, eager to obey his will. Around him, the guardians waited in silent anticipation, their obsidian armor absorbing the dim light, rendering them ghostlike. The moment stretched, a taut string on the verge of snapping. Then, with a voice that rang deep and commanding, Azarath let out a thunderous battle cry.

The battlefield trembled.

Azarath's team surged forward, emerging from the darkness like vengeful spirits. They executed their mission with an efficiency that was almost unnatural—each warrior a master of their craft, each strike calculated to sow terror and death among Xal’dar’s forces. Their task was clear: shatter the enemy’s command structure and flank their forces, dealing maximum devastation before melting back into the shadows.