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The greatest warriors of the Clipse lay dead. They formed a bloody trail through the Leviathan. Only Rull had lived to see the throne room. Calus calmly sipped his wine and considered Rull from the height of his golden seat. "Are you hungry?" Rull stared dumbfounded, bleeding and exhausted. He didn't know what to make of a creature that would casually offer sustenance and slaughter in equal measure. "I offer you a warrior's paradise, Rull of the Clipse. Join me, and be counted among the lucky few that might see the end of this world." What could Rull do but accept?