Introduction
Once again, the Bringer of the Pox trudged along the horde of Plaguebearers. At least the landscape was greener; he noticed several copses of trees, ready to be corrupted and turned into Feculent Gnarlmaws. They approached the remains of some sort of settlement. It may have been prosperous once; but with the discovery of the Stormvaults in this region, war had sprung up and driven the people away. A pity. He would have enjoyed sowing despair among them.
The Bringer was jolted out of his reverie by a change of note in the pipes. Now what did the Plaguebearers notice? And ugh, what was that smell? Not the sweet rot of Grandfather's garden, not the delicious decay, just simply... a stench. Ratmen.
The Bringer made a note to demote the Drones of the Plague. They made for terrible scouts.