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This DLC contains one Hunter, two Weapons, and one Tool:

- The Moorhound (Hunter)
- Maw of Darkness (Romero 77)
- Hell's Dewclaw (Pax)
- Snarling Dawn (Flare Pistol)


The Moorhound 

Jacob Arawn set out to slay the Black Dog of Hell, but has become a figure near synonymous with the hound he hunted. Now he continues his crusade, with decades of surviving harsh lands and eyes that have seen indescribable terrors, turning him into a mythical foe. 


Maw of Darkness 

Jacob carried his late father’s shotgun into the Underworld, and it was the only thing to return with him to Portmadoc. Since then, it has never left his side – clutched to his chest as he sleeps upon moss. This shotgun has slain more beasts than Jacob can count, and no human nor devil can stop it from killing countless more. 


Hell’s Dewclaw 

A memento from a castle he freed from the terror of Mauthe Doog, this Caldwell Pax is cherished by The Moorhound. However, it’s also resented by the surrounding countrymen, who now fear that the shadows hold a madman wielding a gun of the finest quality. 


Snarling Dawn 

Mist lies thick upon the moors of Albion. This flare pistol cuts through cloud cover and reveals The Moorhound’s prey. Though it betrays his position, seeing the light of Snarling Dawn means it’s already too late for you. 


Tales of a fearsome black dog permeate every corner of Wales, Scotland, and England. Occasionally a protector of the land, it is more commonly an omen and bringer of death, as was the case in the Welsh town of Portmadoc. Thus, a party of six set out with one motive: slay the black hound that haunted their moors. All six ignored mockery, counsel, and pleas before disappearing into the moors’ eternal mist. The town waited until morning for their return. Believers waited a week. Families waited a month. But when the seasons changed, all gave up hope.

Over a year later the youngest of the party, seventeen-year-old Jacob Arawn, returned. Bruised and bloody, he was alone – but carried a dog’s head twice the size of any other, its eyes still burning red with liquid fire. Jacob never recounted the same story twice, but there was one detail that remained consistent: his party travelled into the Underworld to find the beast, and he was the only one who escaped.

Soon, Jacob was flooded with letters from towns living in fear of their own dark Hellhounds. Tired, haggard, and with yet unhealed wounds, Jacob was indignant to hear of more monstrous hounds. He didn’t hesitate to journey to moors far afield, where his life was consumed by the never-ending quest to banish all of Hell’s hounds from the isle.

Eventually, rumors of The Black Dog neared extinction. In their stead, travelers and taverns told tales of The Moorhound: a Hunter who sails on the mist, strikes with the lightning, and protects his sacred moors from trespassers. Children and adults alike now feared The Moorhound, the very man who sought to rid them of the dogs that prowled through their nightmares.

Perhaps perturbed by this betrayal, Jacob now sets sail for a new land, where he may leave his myth behind and continue his fight against the Underworld and its new packs of Hellhounds. Or perhaps he cares nothing of the myths and, more than half a century after leaving Portmadoc, the bayou offers the only thing he knows: a Hunt.

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