ARRIVAL ON VAL'KARUUN
Under the bleeding twilight of a distorted sky, the abyssal host emerged from a swirling crimson portal. The world they entered, Val'Karuun, was still scorched from battle—armored corpses of Thorork giants and Elves of Loryndor littered the broken forest. No survivors. Only death, and the eerie silence that followed it.
Leading them stood the dreadbound general, Korrak the Pale Flame—his burning skeletal frame veiled in chains that hissed with the agony of dead realms. Behind him marched the chosen force:
Two High Abyss nobles:
Vez'Ghar of the Ebon Maw — a shadow-wrapped executioner with a maw of endless hunger.
Seratha the Hollow Flame — an elegant, deathly woman cloaked in flickering spectral fire.
Ten brutal survivors of the Blood Arena, each a powerful lower noble of the abyss, soaked in blood and ambition.
This expedition was Korrak's alone. The others—Belgorash, Thorne, Zar'kel, and Myrrh—remained in the Higher Abyss under orders from Diablo himself. Only Korrak had earned the right to carry out this conquest.
THE POCKET REALM
A scouting team was quickly dispatched into the surrounding forest. They returned soon after, having discovered a cave beneath a collapsed mountain tree—its interior large, dark, and ripe for manipulation.
There, Korrak performed a forbidden rite—a gift known only to Diablo, Lady Lilith, and the Dreadbound:
He ripped space and folded time, creating a pocket dimension.
🜏 A pocket dimension is a sealed artificial realm, hidden within folds of existence.
🜏 It mirrors the creator's will and architecture.
🜏 Only the creator and chosen guests may enter.
🜏 It exists beyond detection, and cannot be breached except by its designated gate.
The cave's interior warped—growing impossibly wide as jagged palaces of obsidian burst forth. Lava rivers ran along the halls. The sky was a dome of flame and stars, forged by will.
This would be Korrak's command base on Val'Karuun.
Two lesser noble demons were left to guard the entrance, ensuring none but his chosen entered.
THE WAR COUNCIL
Inside his throne chamber—massive, volcanic, echoing with power—Korrak summoned the nobles.
He sat on a throne forged from chained angel bones, the souls still flickering in their cracked skulls.
"We are not gods," he said, voice reverberating like burning metal, "but on this world, they will worship us as such."
The others listened.
"Our goal is domination," Korrak continued. "The Thororks—giant warriors addicted to war—worship twin deities: Luno and Luna. We shall become them."
Vez'Ghar bared his blackened teeth. "They will bow. Or burn."
"First," Korrak raised a finger, "we locate them."
He gestured to Seratha, who summoned a battalion of lesser demons.
"You go," Korrak ordered. "Find the Thorork warbands. Avoid conflict—for now."
Seratha bowed and vanished into black fire, her unit following through the trees and shadows.
HISTORY OF THE PLANET
The world of Val'Karuun had long been divided.
Thororks
Titanic giants bred in the volcanic north, born from war, bred for conquest. Worshippers of the war gods:
Luno (god of bloodlust and daylight battle)
Luna (goddess of precision and shadow combat)
To them, battle was sacred. Every century, they launched raids upon the Elves.
Elves of Loryndor
Elegant and noble, the Elves resided in the endless twilight forests of Loryndor—green towers that touched the stars. They worshipped Solas, the god of nature, peace, and celestial order.
Their war with the Thororks had raged for over 50,000 years, neither side ever gaining enough ground to destroy the other.
Now, that fragile balance was broken.
THE ANGELS ARRIVE
A second portal shimmered into being across the far horizon, cloaked in light and purity.
A group of Angels in disguise stepped out onto Val'Karuun's soil—scouts from the High Heaven's inner council. Cloaked in mortal appearance, they avoided detection, guided by divine orders.
One of them—a rising figure named Aurielos—was selected for a critical role:
☼ He would become Solas.
☼ Not impersonate—but ascend to the role, through ritual merging with the divine will of the forest.
☼ The Elves had long awaited the return of their god… now the angels would provide one.
Their plan was clear: unite the Elves, prepare for war, and resist the Abyssal threat.
What they hadn't anticipated was the speed at which the demons moved—or how well prepared Korrak already was.
SERATHA'S SCOUTING AND THORORK ENCOUNTER
The black battalions moved through the scarred forest like a single living shadow. Seratha the Hollow Flame led fifty lesser noble demons, cloaked in ragged cloaks but bearing the glimmer of abyssal power.
They reached a plateau overlooking a battlefield strewn with Thorork warbands preparing defenses. The giants—rifles of stone and bone, banners of lunar duality—were brooding, waiting.
Seratha closed her eyes and whispered a command. Her spectral fire parted the trees, revealing campfires and sharpened axes.
One Thorork, almost a full head taller than the others, bellowed to the skies. Others roamed, testing perimeter traps.
Seratha signaled back; Korrak's pocket palace appeared in the scouts' comm crystals.
Their mission: Return with location and strength estimate, but avoid confrontation. This was a reconnaissance mission—not slaughter.
They faded back into the dark woods, leaving the Thororks undisturbed… for now.
AURIELON BECOMES SOLAS
Across Val'Karuun, angels in mortal forms reached the ancient forest of Loryndor. It was here they planned the sacred ritual.
Aurielon, cloaked in simple robes, carried a crystalline sapling of Solas—light-drenched and glowing gold.
At the heart of the forest, the Elves gathered in a clearing encircled by living trees.
With prayers murmured in elven and celestial tongues, Aurielon placed the sapling in the earth. Golden pollen drifted into his body. Runes carved themselves upon his skin.
His transformation was excruciating. Limbs expanded, eyes filled with ancient mystic light—and then, he stood tall, crowned by branches.
He was Solas reborn—Elven god of trees and sky. The forest shuddered. The Elves fell to their knees, tears in their eyes, pointing to the heavens: Our savior has returned.
VELMORA'S DISCIPLINE: GENEVIÈVE
Back in Krav'Zirath, the throne hall's red marble glowed under demonic lanterns as Velmora entered in full regalia—the iron circlet, the crimson gown, the aura of command.
Eryk accompanied Geneviève, who now walked between them in chains of obsidian.
Velmora's voice was cold and low.
"You fled the palace once. A second time you tempted fate. Unthinkable."
Two palace guards dragged Geneviève to her knees. Velmora circled her like a stalking wolf.
"You will learn loyalty, child. Or you will die."
A blade slid from Velmora's sash. A single scratch on Geneviève's cheek bled red.
"Consider this a lesson… in power."
Eryk clenched his fists but could not move. Geneviève heard the words, swallowed her cry, blood on her skin like a brand.
Velmora turned on her heel.
"We move forward."
"Learning here will be harder than any battlefield."
THE BATTLE LINES DRAWN
Far above the world of Val'Karuun, angels and elves joined forces.
Solas—formerly Aurielon—stood beside the Elf Council and his angelic contingent. A war council was formed to resist the abyssal incursion.
Below, Korrak's emissaries returned to the pocket fortress, delivering intel:
Thorork troop positions
Encampment sizes
Potential battlefield chokepoints
Korrak listened, eyes glowing.
He sent the two higher nobles to rally feral demons from the forests near Thorork domains. Seratha would push further into their supply lines.