It is the story of selfless love and unfading glory. Heroes of the past, who had lost their lives, but not their sentience, are exacting their revenge in the name of Mortis, the Goddess of Death.
The cult of Death, which had flourished in the ancient kingdom of Alkmaar, didn't fade away with its fall, but rather was reborn. During the great plague Alkmaar's nobles sought protection of the Goddess, who decided to claim the Kingdom's people for herself. Powerful priests performed terrible rituals, sacrificing animal and people alike, so that the nobles could cross the brink and be returned in a new image.
This is how the first Alkmaar's vampires were born. They rejected the Highfather and swore loyalty to Mortis in exchange for power over life and death. They are masters of tactics and persuasion, their talents matched only by their cruelty and pride. These black-hearted warlords keep their subordinates in constant terror.
Human passions are not alien to them – they crave for power, glory and wealth. Their nobility and superiority on the battlefield go without question. Nosferatu feed on the life force of their enemies, and their dead and cold beauty bewitches them. In every gesture of the undead aristocrat is a hint of his right to command, for there are those destined to rule, and others are born to obey.
But submission and obedience will not save the enemy from a gruesome fate nonetheless. Nosferatu are cruel and bloodthirsty beings. They will drain their victims dry to enjoy their suffering. No pleas or promises can buy off a Nosferatu, since anything that the subdued enemy can offer to the Undead Hordes, they can simply take by force.
Common vampires are no match for their undead leader. A Nosferatu can turn anyone into a vampire, and the newly converted bloodsucker will faithfully serve him forever. Vampires obey him without question.
The ferocity of a Nosferatu on the battlefield is an example for others to follow. In a bloody haze of battle he is riding his swift horse, enjoying the symphony of war – the clank of steel, moaning of the wounded, the death rattle and terrified screams. They are masters of outflanking movements and treacherous moves.
They have eyes and ears everywhere in the impenetrable darkness. Not the castle walls, nor the guards, armed to the teeth, can warrant protection against a Nosferatu. Every wall has its weak points, and every castle has a traitor. Nosferatu will know a black heart out of thousands, and the enemy's fall will be inevitable.
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