Wasteland. Controls an army of people

As Gareth scurried across the rocky wastes, he could feel another set of vibrations shivering through the earth. Looking up in horror, he could see a second army, this one moving up from the south, towards him and the Assemblage army. Lying prone on the ground, he pulled up his field glasses in an attempt to see this new army.

There was no point in searching for a banner with this group, however. This army's allegiance was made clear by the white paint all of the soldiers wore on their faces, put there in homage to the cruel masked being they served that was known only as the White Lord. The White Lord, who sat upon a throne as black as death, who could reach into the minds of men and tear their souls from their bodies. The White Lord, who revelled in corruption and could make the very walls bleed in fear of him. The White Lord, who commanded his army through sheer terror, and held a grip on them that could rival that of the Assemblage Church's.

The two most fanatical armies in the world were about to clash, and Gareth was stuck between them.