Warlock tells grim tales from the depths of the Northern Dank – an impenetrable forest full of mystery and deceit:
1983. Life could not have been better. I was cruising to the city with tickets for Tokyo Blade, when something dark scuttled onto the path ahead. It was a spider, monstrous in size, eight eyes glinting in the dusk. I aimed straight for the beast, crushing it beneath my tyres, but little did I know that such a trifling act of violence would curse me beyond all redemption, for as the fiend expired, it released a slimy secretion. I skidded, crashing head-first into a ditch, and after days of torment, I died, soul seeping into the roots of a withered Birch, which revealed itself to be a wicked crone. She transported me to The Dank Forest – where, in time, I became an immensely feared Warlock. Now I spend my days skulking for meat, human or arachnid, performing dank magic and spinning hateful tales.
So come, weary peasant,
Are you sitting most uncomfortably? Do you dare to enter the Dank?
