For once, the god of debauchery did not smile in public. He did not revel in excitement, or anticipation, or under the effects of alcohol. In the great courtroom he sat, sipping with unheard of reserve, his attitude sure to draw the attention of the others. One hand resting at his brow, elbow to the table. Down below, in the mortal realms, trouble was brewing. It was not like the drunken god to interfere with the petty squabbles of his siblings and sister gods, but rather to partake in the victory celebration with relish. However, this time there was cause for it, and his servants did his bidding without question.

Within Caesilinius

The vampires who had feasted upon the blood of hapless mortals grew ever thirsty within the doomed city. Beyond the usual thirst which plagued every night-stalker, the desire for blood drove many of the lesser and newly turned almost mad, many deserting and finding more mortals to feast upon. The older remained wary, but grew stronger for their want, finding themselves able to rip apart those who opposed them, while sensing the presence of even the smallest drop of living blood. They did not know who had bestowed this temporary curse, or blessing, upon them, but relished in the heightened delights of the blood they consumed, and soon began to call and roar with terrible desire. It was evident that the vampires of Caesilinuius were now a near uncontrollable but far more deadly force.

Outside Caesilunius

The souls of long dead warriors may have seemed beyond the arts of Morios. However, it could be considered a mistake to bring an army of warriors who were the most blood-thirsty of their peers, excellent in battle but weak to the prospects of their individual glory. When the battle lust took them, it took them with a fury with which they had never felt before. They revelled in it, and when the time came for battle to be joined they would fight harder, and more fearsome than ever before, but they would be uncontrollable in the throes of battle. Many innocents would die to their blades, lost in the face of beserker rage; perhaps even fellow allies would be cut down, as the pleasure of battle washed over them. They would be drunk on it, the fighting would make them mad, and Morios would grow ever more powerful while his fellow gods lost control of their pretty little armies.

The outer provinces (countryside)

The Drunken Wanderers came not soon after Lefredias drove the oppressed to revolt. When guard towers were broken asunder and the houses of lords pillaged, it was the nature of those involved to pilfer and loot. The Wanderers only encouraged such behaviour, pulling out their own alcohol to season that which the peasantry took from the lords. As one could imagine when night fell and the fighting was done, each town grew merry at its own success. Very merry indeed, as many a man fell into a drunken stupor and remained paraplegic for days hence. The party would continue for many days for the less fanatic of the peasants, who were happy with their minor and relatively blood-less victory. It would be far harder now for Lefredias and his followers to rouse the peasants into a battle where they were doomed to die.