Kragnos, last god of the vanished drogrukh, was imprisoned for aeons behind an unbreakable seal, and when at last he broke free his wrath fell first upon the works of the ordered realms. In his monstrous grip he swings the Dread Mace of Kragnos, a head of jagged stone bound with the bones of beasts and the rubble of ruined cities, a weapon less forged than assembled from the wreckage of all he has already destroyed.
The End of Empires needs no strategy and keeps no counsel. Where he charges, the mace descends, and no rampart, no gate, no proud spire of civilisation stands against it; walls that turned aside armies for a thousand years burst like rotten wood at a single blow. The Orruk Warclans flock to his rampages with roaring joy, for the god's destruction clears the way for their own, and they hail him as the greatest smasher the realms have ever known.
Yet Kragnos rages in grief as much as fury, for the mace is all that remains to him of a people and a realm long dust. Each city he flattens is a monument to his loss, each shattered wall a cry against the ordered world that outlived his own. The Dread Mace does not build; it can only unmake, and its bearer would see every empire brought as low as the one he could not save.
The reliquary continues
