Whispers tell of a night upon a distant isle, when cultists offered up innocent lives to a holy fire, and in their screams the veil between worlds was rent apart. Out of that void-borne ritual came the Obscurii; a sect of witch-kin and death-bound fanatics who no longer perceived the world as stone and flesh, but as rot awaiting cleansing.
The land itself groaned beneath them, corrupted and hollow, and they dedicated their lives to the unmaking of all things. Now, the Obscurii have come to the Wargrounds, drawn as carrion to battlefield stench. To them, the endless clash is no tragedy, but a sacred omen: proof that the spiral of existence is already tightening. Where others fight for dominion, survival, or something in between, the Obscurii wage a holy war only to destroy. Not to subjugate, but to erase. Their banners are emblazoned with a chthonic eye, a symbol of sight beyond sight, perception beyond the base senses.
Their Harbingers lead the ravenous masses with cruel sermons and grim sorcery, and their nameless ranks shed blood gladly, singing hymns of oblivion as they butcher, maim, and ruin.
To those without the esoteric knowledge, in their attempt to comprehend the mysterious nihilistic and destructive force, they are spoken of in whispers, mentioned under the dreadful names of Sightless Eyes, Darkdivers, and Voidstained. But to themselves, they are nothing more than the harbingers of a desolate truth. For the Obscurii do not perceive the Wargrounds as just another battlefield, but as the perfect altar: a land already saturated with death, prepared for the final unravelling. Every soul slain here brings the Void nearer. Every dead body flattened under the mud is another pebble dislodged from the crumbling edifice of creation.
"This is not the end. This is the extinction of sequence. The death of 'before.' The murder of 'next.'" - the Prophet