Dire Wolves are the risen remains of the great wolves of Sylvania and the border forests, slain beasts dragged back from death by necromancy to hunt again in the service of the vampire lords. Larger than any living wolf and long past caring about their own decay, they run in silent, rotting packs, hide hanging from exposed bone, eyes lit with the cold spark of the magic that drives them. What they have lost in living speed they more than repay in relentlessness: they never tire, never scatter, and never abandon a chase, loping through the dark hour after hour to run down whatever their master sets them upon. In battle they are loosed ahead of the slow-marching dead to worry the enemy's flanks, overrun skirmishers and archers, and drag down the fleeing before they can escape the field. There is no howl to warn of their coming, for dead lungs draw no breath. There is only the patter of ragged paws in the dark, and then the weight of the pack.
Order of battle
