Post by KevinC on Dec 21, 2015 23:32:41 GMT
I've been involved is a massive map campaign that began August 2012 (many EEFL members are also involved) and ended in August 2021 - 9 years!!. Below is the narrative that has been created in regards to the campaign events and battles. Entire empires have risen and fallen, as new players entered and others resigned.
The total narrative is 48,614 words!
In April of 2022, we began the sequel campaign that takes place approximately 10 years after the events of our first campaign. The narrative of the second campaign starts in the third post of this thread: DARK TIDINGS II: THE AGE OF ANNIHILATION.
Feel free to comment! Thank you.
War! The Old World is crumbling under ruthless attacks and invasions on all fronts! While the Empire of Men and the Dwarfs of Karaz Ankor defend their realms from the enemies of civilization, armies of the Dark Gods march forth from both polars of the world, leaving nothing but death and ruination in their wake as they relentlessly despoil the lands of Men, Dwarfs and Elves. At the same time, barbarous hordes of Orcs & Goblins have come pouring out of the Badlands and Dark Lands in seemingly endless legions bent on nothing but destruction and mayhem! Worse still, it is rumoured that the leader of mankind, Emperor Karl Franz, has been afflicted by a terrible curse, crippling the greatest leader of the Old World and bringing about despair throughout the entire realm.
In the spring of the Imperial year 2523 – the Year of the Screeching Eagle – after a long winter of ice and blizzard, the armies of the Forces of Destruction marched forth from their own depraved domains to conquer the lands of the Old World. From a mysterious, arcane rift opening in the south, the Chaos Hordes of Archaon Everchosen, the Three-Eyed King and the Lord of the Ends Times, have begun a new invasion upon the world. With a renewed vehemence of annihilation, after his grand coronation as the undisputed uniter and Everchosen of Chaos, the Three-Eyed King has launched a new bid for world dominion from his stronghold in the Badlands – Archaos, the Fortress of the Everchosen. While in the north, the Chaos Legions of Goreblade Skulltaker – a maniacal and bloodthirsty Lord of Khorne – advance south from the Chaos Wastes, slaughtering all in their path for the glory of the Blood God.
Within the Worlds Edge Mountains, the notorious Goblin King – Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain – has returned to his fortress in the Misty Mountain fully recovered from his defeat on the Elven Isle of Ulthuan. Mustering a Goblin Horde the likes of which has never been seen in the Old World before, the ambitious Goblin King means to conquer the nations of Men and Dwarfs, ushering into a new era – ‘The Age of the Goblin.’ At the same time, a huge Black Orc Warlord from the Dark Lands, Morhog Da Mighty, has emerged at the head of an enormous coalition of Black Orcs, Orcs, Hobgoblins and enthralled Chaotic Dwarfs. With a host of bizarre war engines, monstrous beasts and titanic War Giants, Morhog wants nothing more than to stomp the realms of the civilized world to dust and all those unfortunate enough to lie in his path.
Such conflict could not have struck at a worse time for the Empire of Men. For during the long winter, the Emperor Karl Franz has succumbed to a horrible ailment. It is rumoured an affliction of sorcery has taken hold of the Emperor that has aged his mind and body to the extent of paralysis. The renowned statesman of the Old World is nothing more than a broken husk, decrepit and dying. A mere whispered word requires his entire strength of will, even so the Emperor’s last command was to appoint the Lord-Commander of Talabecland – Maximilian Arno – to the position of Reiksmarshal, in the perplexing absence of Kurt Helborg. It is therefore Arno’s charge to lead the full military might of the entire Empire of Men in defense of their realm against the numerous invading threats. From his war room in Talabheim, Max Arno has set his defenses and laid out his plans to halt the Forces of Destruction.
With dark tidings of the defeat of several Dwarf strongholds within the Worlds Edge Mountains by the greenskin hordes of both Grom the Paunch and Morhog Da Mighty, the Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker and his clan have been cutoff from their kin. Taking command of the Dwarf Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, King Rodin has begun recording a new chapter of grudges in Barak Varr’s own Book of Grudges, grudges the Dwarf King has sworn to strike out personally...
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR I – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (August 2012)
From the frozen north, rampaging out of the monster-infested Troll Country, Goreblade Skulltaker, Champion of Khorne, and his Chaotic Horde razed the lands of Kislev to gory ruin. The armies of Kislev have been massacred, their families butchered, their villages and fortresses razed and their kingdom subjugated to the wholesale slaughter of Khorne. With her country overrun, the Tzarina Katarin, the legendary Ice Queen of Kislev, is said to have escaped Goreblade’s clutches. Daemons and mutants, scoured the mountain and forests surrounding Kislev in search of the Tzarina, but the Ice Queen could not be found. Thus the Skulltaker turned his bloodthirsty attentions further south, commencing his conquest of the Empire with the invasion of the Imperial province of Talabecland.
It was on the edge of the Talabecland border, at the River Talabec where Goreblade and his Chaotic Warriors met Commander Grieshof, Lord-Commander Arno’s military counselor and war-lieutenant, and an enormous battalion of Imperial soldiers. Driving his Warriors into a crazed frenzy, Goreblade and his horde tore through the Imperial infantry spilling blood and claiming skulls for their bloody Daemon-God, Khorne. The heroic outlaws, Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger who had agreed to join Grieshof’s army (in the hopes of Gotrek finding his doom) in the face of this new Chaos invasion, single handedly eradicated a squadron of Chaos knights and chariots before becoming locked in vicious combat with a Daemonic Hellcannon of Chaos. The Talabheim Lions were slaughtered to the man, but their insufferable Captain, Schein, somehow managed to escape his doom. As the Men of the Empire fell like wheat under scythe by the Khornate Warriors of Chaos, it was Balthasar Gelt, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic himself, who swooped down from the skies on his Pegasus, Pandora, in attempt to turn the tide of the battle. Channeling a potent spell with the legendary Staff of Volans, Lord Goreblade and his Chosen were blasted by a potent wave of radiant, golden light. In an instant the Chaos Warrior’s black armour shifted to a gleaming golden shine, their limbs slowly began to stiffen until they were rendered completely immobile at the warriors were transmutated into solid gold! Despite the seemingly demise of the enemy general, however, Commander Grieshof had been defeated in the initial attack of the invading Hordes of Chaos, with his army all but decimated. Though forced to withdraw with few survivors and broken moral, the Imperial soldiers did find some comfort in the fact that Goreblade Skulltaker was now nothing more than a statue of solid gold, jesting him ‘Lord Goldie’. Nonetheless, as a result of the hundreds of skulls reaped by Goreblade and his slaughter of the Kislevites, the Chaos Lord has gained the attention of the Blood God himself, for the Champion has seemingly been restored.
As the Black Host of Morhog Da Mighty, a ferocious Black Orc Warlord, emerged from the Dark Lands, an army of his vast Orc hordes under the Orcy lieutenant Grogz Eadsplitta spied the enormous wolf-riding Goblin vanguard of Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Although vastly outnumber by Grom’s Goblins, Grogz conceived a cunning plan to lure the Wolf Hordes into a narrow pass at the edge of the Worlds Edge Mountains. With the massive Wolf hordes and chariots bottlenecked by the pass and encumbered by the mountainside and the baleful Forest of Despair, Grogz’s Black Orc Boar Boyz and the Hobgoblin War-Giant, Hurg, would swing around Grom’s flank to smash the Goblins. However, Grogz carefully laid plans were thwarted when the renowned Wolf-Chief Gitilla Da Hunter and his Wolf Boyz, Da Howlerz, shot down the mighty Hurg in a barrage of enchanted, poisonous arrows and the Black Orc Boar Boyz got lost – failing to ever show up! Grom’s bodyguard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters, smashed Grogz’s Orcs when the bickering Orcs began to squabble amongst themselves. With his plan in debacles, Grogz fled with Grom roaring in triumph.
Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer of the Dwarf Clan Grudge-Eraser ambushed one of Archaon’s dread Chaos armies in the Badlands. Led by a fell Daemon Prince of Tzeentch, Xor’Etch, the armies fought to a near standstill. Xor’Etch and his sorcerer apprentice were barraged by Dwarven artillery and banished from the field. In the last moments, the Warriors of Chaos smashed through the Dwarven ranks causing them to withdraw.
In attempt to fulfill retribution for the past atrocities of the greenskins, Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker’s throng clashed with the main vanguard of the Black Host of Morhog, lead by the vicious Black Orc Warlord himself atop an enormous wolf-drawn chariot. A massive, magical tempest struck the battlefield causing monsters to emerge from their lairs and magic to rain about, in a torrential storm of magic. Morhog’s shaman, Ugruck Spooktalka, summoned the mighty Ice Wyrm, Gorthrax, the ancient Manticore, Deathwhip and the Giant, Grug. At the height of the battle, the massive stone thrower dubbed ‘Horde Thinner’ by the Dwarfs, struck Morhog’s chariot smashing it to smithereens and throwing the Black Orc Warlord to his feet. Markus’s Marvelous Beer Tank, a beer-powered Dwarf contraption based on the designs of Imperial Steam Tank, showered the Orc horde with its deadly Fire-Beer Cannon, melting the Orcs’ thick hides into puddles of green goo. Taking personal command of his guard of Black Orcs, da Muthakrusherz, Morhog smashed aside all stunties in his path and which he could catch, as the Dwarfs fled before him. The battle ended when King Rodin and his guard outmaneuvered the Black Orcs, charging the Muthakrusherz in their rear. The Dwarf King personally challenged Morhog to single combat besting the greenskin despot despite his massive stature. Suffering a severe leg wound, Morhog and the remnants of his horde fled leaving victory to the Grudgestrikers. King Rodin struck out many grudges this day.
Grom the Paunch’s chief Shaman, Gitgog Da Spida-King, perched atop a gargantuan Arachnarok Spider called ‘Da Great Gog’, led a massive Goblin horde against the chaotic warband of Wulfrik the Wanderer, an exceptionally large and ugly Chaos Chieftain who has joined Archaon’s infernal crusade against the Old World. Wulfrik’s warband was massacred when the two Giants – Ol’ One Eye and Drex Da Destroya met the warband head on, bellowing and stomping their enemies into submission. Wulfrik and a band of his veteran Marauders meanwhile, had marched around the main Goblin horde and attacked the Goblins from the rear. Although Wulfrik slew many of the diminutive greenskins, his arrive was too little and too late, for his main warband had been defeated and so Wulfrik was forced to retreat. Da Spida-King fed the survivors to Da Great Gog, in a horrific rite to his deity, the Spider-God.
While Dwarf King Rodin was out bringing retribution upon the foul Orcs in the Worlds Edge Mountains, the Lord of the End Times, Archaon Everchosen, led a massive assault against the Dwarf King’s capital – the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr! The mighty Dwarf garrison met the Chaos Hordes in open field rather than hide behind the walls of the ancient Dwarf stronghold. Archaon’s chief Sorcerer summoned the aid of a massive Warpfire Dragon; such was its size and wingspan that the entire battlefield was cloaked in darkness as the Warpfire Dragon drowned out the sun. Though the Dwarfs fought valiantly, the Hordes of Chaos and the fury of the Warpfire Dragon could not be quelled. The Dwarfs were slaughtered and the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, the capital of King Rodin Grudge-Eraser’s campaign of retribution and major port of the Old World fell to the Lord of the End Times.
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (August 2012)
Furious with his defeat and leg injury at the hands of the Dwarf King, Morhog Da Mighty launched an attack against an expedition force of Dwarfs led by the stoic Runesmith, Erik Wildstrider. Wildstrider and his Dwarfs were fortifying the small village of Dwariheim when the relentless host of Black Orcs and Chaos Dwarfs completely surround the village, pillaging and razing it to the ground as the vastly outnumbered Dwarfs fled for their lives.
In attempt at vengeance for his defeat at the hands of Da Spider-King, Wulfrik the Wanderer lead his warband against a small force of Goblins and Trolls under the Goblin Warlord, Sourgutt. The Goblins were no match for the martial prowess of Wulfrik’s warriors. However, with his mysterious, iron crown, Sourgutt summoned a vast comet from the heavens above, which came smashing down upon both his Goblins and Wulfrik’s Marauders. While the Goblins could suffer such casualties without dismay, the attrition to Wulfrik’s force was too great. Grom’s Goblin armies had defeated Wulfrik once again.
The Lord-Commander and Reiksmarshal of the Empire, Maximilian Arno, honoring the old alliance of Men and Dwarfs, sent an army of Men led by Captain Zachary Hasenauer to aid an army of Grudgestriker Dwarfs, commanded by the Runesmith Loki Magik-Dimmer against the invading Chaos Hordes of Archaon, the Everchosen of Chaos, in the south. During the Battle of Doom Bridge, the battle was nearly lost when the Imperial Wizard, Klauss Leben was brutally assaulted by an ancient Daemon reaching out from the Realm of Chaos as Leben employed his magic against the approaching Chaos hordes. With an unmatched force of will, Leben resisted the Daemon’s attack banishing the foul creature back from whence it came. Overwhelmed with despair and cowed by the Daemonic assault upon Leben, Hasenauer and his Talabec Guard fled the battlefield, causing much resentment from his Dwarf allies, as they shouted boisterous insults at the fleeing Imperial Captain. The Dwarf artillery saved the day as both the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch and his sorcerer apprentice were, once again, bombarded by ‘The Goblin Smasher’ stone thrower and ‘Evil’s Bane’ organ cannon. With the demise of the chaotic leaders, the remaining Men of the Empire and the Dwarfs of Clan Grudgestriker were able to pushback the onslaught of Chaos Warriors, despite Hasenauer’s cowardice.
Brimming with burning hatred as a result of numerous defeats at the hands of Runesmith Loki’s Dwarfs, the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch mercilessly assaulted the Dwarfs with renewed vigor. In the center of the melee, the two rivals, Loki and Xor’Etch, challenged each other to single combat. To the Daemon’s surprise, Loki was a fierce warrior himself, able to parry Xor’Etch’s blows, despite his daemonic strength. Though all around them, Dwarfs were being slaughtered by the blood-spilling, frenzied Chaos Warriors. Loki and his Dwarfs had met their doom or so it seemed…
Lord-Commander Maximilian Arno, at the head of an enormous contingent of Knights including the First Parade Regiment of Reiksguard Knights, led his forces to the Halfling domain of The Moot, where word was rumoured that the infernal Chaos Sorcerers, Vrokaw and Kareem, the Twin Sons of Tzeentch, a pair of abominable twin brothers who have made common cause with the Chaos Lord Goreblade Skulltaker, had brought death and ruin to the diminutive Hobbits. During the initial conflict, Vrokaw fell into a temporary coma, causing aliment to his twin via the uncanny link shared between the supernal brothers. Driving the Chaos forces from the Moot, Lord-Commander Arno pursued the fleeing twins, pushing the Chaos army further north with Arno himself cutting down the Twins’ personal standard-bearer.
Soon Vrokaw had made a speedy recovery and the Twin Sons of Tzeentch made a desperate last stand against Arno’s Imperial forces. In an exulted ritual dedicated to their master, Tzeentch, the twins summoned a massive vortex of magic and summoned the ancient Bonegrinder Giant, Khonaan from its ageless slumber. The great magical storm, however, also awoke Khonaan’s ancient rival – the legendary Bonegrinder Giant, Mang. The two huge behemoths clashed like thunder in the center of the battlefield. With gigantic, elder trees wielded as barbarous clubs, the two titans exchanged blows that echoed across the world, bawling, breaking, and battling like the Sky-Titans of old. The clash of titans ended with the pair of Bonegrinder Giants collapsing, together, in the River Talabec. Meanwhile, the Lord-Commander single handedly slew a trio of vile Chaos Trolls and the First Parade Regiment of the Reiksguard Knights shattered the Twin’s chaotic army, not before the Twin Sons of Tzeentch made a timely escape…
Suffused with delusions of invulnerability with his recent victory over Wulfrik the Wanderer, Gitgog Da Spider-King made an uncharacteristically bold move, leading his vast horde of Goblins, along with Sourgutt’s Vile Coalition of Scum and Villainy, against the very gates of Archaon’s capital in the Badlands, Archaos – the Fortress of the Everchosen, in attempt to undermine Grom’s authority. After smashing the fortress gates asunder with the enormous battering ram the Goblins acclaimed – Grox, Madbad Zapzag, a Night Goblin Shaman, unleashed a crazed mob of cave squigs, fueled by one of the Shaman’s mushroom brews, into the gatehouse. Meanwhile, the Giants, Ol’ One Eye and Drex Da Destroya, battered the fortress walls with huge clubs. With victory close within his grasp however, Gitgog was defeated when the Chaos Lord Bael Kor riding atop a mighty Chaos Dragon appeared to relieve the besieged capital and a particularly ‘intelligent’ brood of Chaos Trolls thwarted the capture of the city’s gatehouse from the Goblins and Squigs. The Spider-King escaped, however, and is already brewing and plotting his next scheme…
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (April 2013)
A NEW THREAT EMERGES
From out of the howling wastes, in the north, a new power was rising. Tharthrog Leadgut, the Maw-Tyrant, and his tribe of mercenary Ogres, known as the Leadguts, had entered the conflict in the Old World to pillage, plunder, rape and devour. After months of battle against tribes of barbarous North-Men, savage Beastmen and constant ambush from monstrous beasts throughout the wastes, the Ogres were exhausted, but even more so – hungry! The Leadgut tribe immediate took camp at an apparently abandoned Imperial mine, where Tharthrog would secure wealth to expand a new Ogre Kingdom in the heart of the Old World!
As the Leadguts began moving deeper into Imperial lands however, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno immediate met this new threat while on patrol with the First Parade Company hunting for Chaos renegades. An Ogre’s appetite is never sated and so the Leadguts were thrilled at the chance to squash open these ‘tin-canned hummies’ and roast them on an open fire. The Ogres fumbled the advantage to outmaneuver the army of knights when the unwashed masses of skitterish Gnoblars, attempting to avoid any and all conflict, got in the way of their corpulent masters. Scores of Gnoblars were simply trampled to death by the Ogres without much thought, which many of the Ogres found this to be very funny. A squadron of Demigryph Knights wheeled around the Ogre army’s right flank distracting several of the Ogre marauders, including the Maw-Tyrant, Tharthrog himself, for the Ogres saw the Demigryph Knights simply as a delicious and appetizing giant chickens! Tharthrog immediately set his Sabretusk pets, Hamstring and Legsnapper, upon the ‘chicken knights’. While the ferocious giant cats clawed and snapped at the Gryphons, Norbarth's Riders, a pair of Mournfang Cavalry came charging in, snorting and bellowing, and impaling the Demigryphs with their enormous tusks and skewering the knightly riders. Meanwhile Tharthrog led a huge mob of Ogres, the Gorestompers, into the heart of the Imperial lines, where the Reiksmarshal and the First Parade Company of Reiksguard Knights charged headlong into the corpulent Ogres. Lances broke on belly plates as clubs ricocheted off shinning plate mail. The Maw-Tyrant wildly swung his enchanted blade, Hero-Chewer, chomping down several valiant knights of the First Parade Company as Lord-Commander Arno challenged the massive brute, Rerolf the Mawseeker, a giant of an Ogre who carried Tharthrog’s personal banner, to single combat. Despite its massive stature and beastly strength, the Ogre was no match for the newly appointed Reiksmarshal of the Empire. Arno’s blade cut through Ogre sinew and bone like a scythe through wheat, amputating the brute’s leg! The Mawseeker collapse in defeat, for one leg was not enough to support its vast bulk!
Though the Mawseeker had been vanquished (for now), Arno and his Reiksguard were caught in a deadly pincer maneuver – Norbarth’s Riders were closing in the encumbered knights. Just as the Mournfang Cavalry were about to make impact with the knights, however, a reserve Great Cannon struck precisely where it needed, throwing the riders from their beastly mounts and saving the knights from a fatal rear charge. With the defeat of the Mawseeker, the loss of their cavalry charge and with the Imperial knights only gaining momentum, Tharthrog ordered a withdraw. Even so, with demise of so many knights, the First Parade Company could not claim victory.
CLASH OF MARSHALS
In the Badlands, black clouds blotted out the sun and high winds swept through the arid steppes. Flashes of magical lightning thundered across the skies as the armies of Archaon Everchosen and Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain met on open field. A massive stone idol, resembling that of Grom himself, came alive powered by the storming winds of magic, smashing aside a Chaotic Wyvern bound by Archaon’s cabal of Sorcerers. Meanwhile the main vanguard of Grom’s Wolf Horde charged into the thin but deadly line of Chaos Knights. Gorgog Bonechewa, an old and gnarled Goblin Warboss, and the Flea Bags, a huge mob of Goblin Wolf Riders, tore into the Chaos Knights, though could not penetrate the seemingly invincible, chaotic armour. And so, the Paunch released his pride and joy upon the Chaos Knights, the old and scaly Wyvern, Doomserpent! Swooping down to aid the Fleabags, Doomserpent loped heads off and bit through armour like hot knives into butter. Supported by the deadly Doomserpent, the Goblins defeated the Chaos Knights only to suffer the wrath of Archaon’s reserves, a crazed squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne! Meanwhile, Grom’s personal guard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters, smashed their way through the Chaos infantry tearing Chaos Warriors in two as their toxic vomit ate through thick armour. An enormous Magma Dragon soared over the battlefield, its massive presence alone nearly routing the entire Goblin horde. Only Grom’s constant yelling, bawling and dastardly threats kept his Goblins from fleeing. Even so, Gorgog and the Flea Bags turned tail and fled the field rather then face the rampaging behemoths of Skullcrushers.
As Da Rock Eaters tore a whole through the Everchosen’s army, Archaon and the Swords of Chaos, the Everchosen’s personal retinue of Chaos Knights, charged into the horde of Stone Trolls. Though the Trolls suffered great slaughter from the Lord of the End Times and his retinue, their wounds instantly healed. This was not true of the Swords of Chaos; for they were consumed by copious amounts of armour-dissolving Troll vomit, leaving Archaon to face Da Rock Eaters alone. Despite his great power, the Three Eyed King was overwhelmed by the hulking horde of Trolls and unleashed the power of U’zuhl from his daemonic sword. The fickle Daemon however struck down its master as the Trolls continued to vomit upon the mighty Chaos Everchosen. Archaon’s horde was defeated, the Everchosen himself temporarily vanquished and the ancient Armour of Morkar, the armour of the very first Chaos Everchosen, was destroyed! Grom had defeated the Chaos Everchosen and turned his attentions to the Chaos capital – Archaos…
THE RECLAIMING OF MOUNT UNGORAL
With the loss of the Dwarf Sea fortress of Barak Varr, Clan Grudgestriker’s priority was to seize new land and further fortify Dwarf lands. Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer devised a plan to capture Mount Ungoral, a small mountain at the foot of the vast mountain range of the Worlds Edge Mountains. A Chaos war host known as the Blood-Lord’s Blood Butchers of Brand the Bloody-Handed, had captured the mountain during Goreblade Skulltaker’s initial invasion south of Kislev. Unbeknownst to the Blood-Lord, however, Mount Ungoral contained an ancient and secret Dwarven outpost abandoned by the Dwarfs centuries ago after geological earthquakes crippled the old Dwarf Empire. This secret outpost was a sentinel of the Dwarf stronghold of Karak Ungor, which was overrun by greenskins thousands of years ago. King Rodin had declared the time was right to reclaim and restore the old outpost. A squadron of Gyrocopters circled the mountain and showered the Blood Butchers with fiery steam, while Loki and his throng met the Blood-Lord’s vanguard of Chaos Ogres and Khornate Berserkers in a valiant holding action. The crazed Chaos Ogres pulverized many Dwarfs, but still the Runelord and his warriors held. With the gyrocopters and warmachines of the Dwarfs annihilating the rest of the Chaos horde, Loki proved triumphant in reclaiming Mount Ungoral.
While the Dwarf King Rodin had dispatched his Runelord, Loki Magik-Dimmer, to retake the secret Dwarven outpost of Mount Ungoral, Rodin’s scouts had informed him that the main horde of Morhog Da Mighty had been sighted encamped in Dwarf lands! King Rodin ordered an immediate attack, at dawn, in attempt to take the Orcs off guard. Morhog does not sleep easily, in fact it can be properly said that Morhog Da Mighty hates sleeping altogether and was woken at the first sign of the Dwarfs sneak attack. Boisterously yelling at his boyz, Morhog hastily mustered his Orcs into ranks to meet King Rodin’s Dwarfs. A pair of monstrous Black Orc Orcadons emerged at the head of the Black Host firing a barrage of mortar shells into the Dwarf throng from evil war engines constructed by Morhog’s enthrall Chaos Dwarfs and mounted atop the backs of the Orcish beasts. Hundreds of Dwarf warriors fell by the infernal weapons of their twisted kin. When the Black Orc crew failed to properly reload the warmachines, the devices jammed and exploded causing great cheers from the Dwarf lines. The Dwarf King sent in the infamous Beer Tank directing the tank into the ranks of Gorghul the Unvanquished and his Chaos Dwarf warriors. The evil Dwarfs were mutilated and grinded beneath the tank’s wheels. Morhog was defeated once again.
OLD ENEMIES MEET FOR THE FIRST TIME
After a failed assault upon the Fortress of the Everchosen during the summer season, the vile Forest Goblin Shaman, Gitgog Da Spider King was commanded by Grom to push further north, while the Paunch personally marshaled a siege on Archaon’s capital. Heading north, Da Spider King and his host was soon met by the Dwarf King Rodin who had been in pursue of the fleeing Black Orc Warlord, Morhog, and his Orcs. Instead of finding morale-broken Orcs, however, the Dwarfs were confronted by hordes of seemingly endless Goblin infantry being driven into battle by the notorious Spider-King atop a massive Arachnarok Spider, venerated as ‘Da Great Gog’ by the Spider-worshipping greenskins. The renowned Dwarf cannon ‘Old Faithful’ incapacitated the gargantuan, eight-legged beast nearly collapsing the moral of the entire Goblin army! Using tricksy Waaagh! magic to hold his horde together and blast the Dwarfs with pure Waaagh! power, Gitgog inspired his Gobbos to continue their advance upon the Dwarf lines. The dreaded and infamous Dwarf contraption known as the Beer Tank came barreling into the Goblins horde, spraying its dread beer cannon into the congested ranks of Goblin warriors. To the tank’s misfortune, however, this attack gained the attention of the Giant, Drex Da Destroya, who happened to already be drunk and was on the prowl for more beer! As Drex smashed at the tank in attempt to crack open the beer reserves, the Dwarfs set the tank in reverse then at full speed ahead, toppling the drunken Giant! Drex collapsed, however the whole affair went foul (for the Dwarfs, anyway), when the Giant fell directly on top the Beer Tank, crushing it in a marvelous explosion of beer, blood and vomit. With the destruction of his enemy’s great weapon, Gitgog attempted to conjure the malevolent malediction of the Bad Moon to wipeout the rest of the Dwarf throng! In his moment of triumph, however, a rift into the Realm of Chaos opened sucking the shaman into the nether world! The loss of their leader was too much for the rest of the Goblins and they fled back further south. At the last moment, it is said, Gitgog was plucked into the Great Green, the shadowy, spiritual realm of the greenskins by Mork himself and has been sighted once again riding atop Da Great Gog, though, seemingly more crazed than normal…
A GAME OF PAWNS
After securing the secret Dwarf outpost of Mount Ungoral, Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer, pursued the army of Blood-Lord Brand, only to run in to the Chaos host of Vrokaw, one of the sinister Twin Sons of Tzeentch. Vrokaw had been granted a boon from his infernal god and was gifted with a glimpse of the future. The evil Twin had been waiting for Loki and his Dwarfs and, unbeknownst to Morhog Da Mighty, Vrokaw had lured the obsessed Black Orc Warlord into pinning the Dwarfs. Just as Vrokaw had planned, the Orcs all but ignored the Chaos host, in order to smash their ancient enemies. As the two rivals advanced upon each other, the Dwarven stone thrower, ‘Gob-Smasher’ struck Morhog’s massive chariot, smashing it to smithereens and causing Morhog Da Mighty to limp about the battlefield on his wounded leg, a constant reminder of his hated foe – Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker. Howling and raving Morhog ordered his Orcs to charge into the Dwarf line when his Orcs began squabbling amongst themselves. Furious and frustrated with his bickering Orcs, Morhog charged all by himself into Loki and his guard of Longbeards known as the Old Grumblers. After smashing, slashing, bashing and breaking several Dwarf heads, Morhog became overwhelmed by the sheer, stubborn willpower of the Dwarf war veterans and fled! As the Old Grumblers attempt to pursue the hated Black Orc Chieftain, they were, in turn, charged in their flank by a bloodthirsty mob of Orcs and slaughtered to the man (Dwarf?). Loki suffered a sever head wound, but manage to escape the rampaging Orcs, though the Runelord would never fully recover – it is said that he constantly talks to himself and is extremely indecisive regarding what he eats for breakfast! The Dwarfs and Orcs had annihilated each other. Vrokaw had won a major victory for Goreblade and defeated two enemies in a single stroke without so much as lifting a sword…exactly how he had foreseen it!
MORE GRUDGES STRUCK
One of Morhog’s Black Orc lieutenants, Bagfram Da Bad, led Da Turd Mob Orcs against the Grudgestrikers. Despite being severely outnumbered by the hated stunties, Bagfram’s Orcs decimated the Dwarf Miners and Orc Arrer Boyz brought down a gyrocopter in a usual display of Orcish accuracy. Meanwhile the Orc Shaman, Dogfrag Ghostcalla enveloped in irresistible Waaagh! power, conjured the mighty Foot of Gork! The ectoplasmic green foot came smashing down upon the Dwarf ranks crushing dozens of Dwarf warriors.
The battle turned however when an infernal Hell Cannon, called ‘Destroya’ by the Orcs, supplied by Morhog’s Chaos Dwarf thralls, exploded in a massive fireball that brought fiery ruin upon the Orcs. The remaining Orcs were battered by the Dwarf’s heavy artillery and fled the field.
Fueled by frustration and rage with his defeats at the hands of the Grudgestriker Dwarfs, Morhog Da Mighty sought to regain his infamy and give a ‘good seeing to’ to anything unfortunate enough to cross the Black Orc Warlord’s path. Morhog led a massive assault upon the Tzeentch Sorcerer Vrokaw, one of the dreaded Twin Sons of Tzeentch and his Chaos warband at the Tower of Skulls. Despite constant squabbling and bickering amongst Morhog’s Hobgoblins, the Black Orcs were all but unstoppable. Ugruck Spooktalka, Morhog’s chief Shaman, summoned the awesome power of Gork. Infused with raw Waaagh! power the Orcs pumbled the ranks of Chaos Warriors. As dusk approached, Vrokaw withdrew his forces, for the boisterous Orcs were relentless in their attack. Morhog howled in triumph, rekindling confidence in his ladz.
AN UNEASY ALLIANCE
After his encounter with the Leadgut Ogre tribe, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno continued his righteous expedition to purge the armies of Chaos from the Emperor’s lands. Finally his scouts had successfully tracked the chaotic horde of Goreblade Skulltaker, Exalted Lord of Khorne. Lord ‘Goldie’, as the Imperial troops had come to call him after Balthasar Gelt temporarily transformed him into solid gold, had been found looting tombs and desolating graves. Rumor has surfaced that Goreblade sought the ancient tomb of Krell, an ancient Chaos Champion of Khorne said to still serve the Blood God in a state of Undeath.
Seeking to end the threat of Lord Skulltaker once and for all, the Reiksmarshal hired the services of Tharthrog and his Ogres. Despite his animosity with Arno, Tharthrog figured he had nothing to lose from a pact with the Reiksmarshal, gold, fresh meats and battle was exactly what his Ogres needed after all.
THE BETRAYAL AT KRELL’S CRYPT
Consumed with his quest to find Krell, Goreblade Skulltaker was caught completely unawares. Surrounded by Imperial Knights and brutal Ogres, Goreblade’s army was at the receiving end of a perfectly executed pincer assault! The Chaos host was surrounded and outnumbered; even so, Lord Skulltaker whipped his warriors into an enraged frenzy, fiercely engaging Arno’s First Parade Regiment of Reiksguard Knights. The venerable Steam Tank, Sigmar’s Favour, and a regiment of Imperial Halberdiers, the Fighting Twin-Tails, held off the Chaos cavalry while Tharthrog the Maw-Tyrant and his Ironguts – Morgang’s Bashers – shattered the remaining lines of Chaos Warriors. Tharthrog met the challenge of an overconfident Champion of Khorne, and snapped the spinal cord of the doomed champion. Attempting in support the Ogre hordes with augmenting Maw Magic, the great Slaughtermaster, Nerfug Elfchewer, fouled his victuals and was nearly sucked in the Realm of Chaos. With his army in ruins, Goreblade and the remnants of his army fled.
Tharthrog bawled at his Ogres to immediately secure their battle lines. It is unclear what happened next, but soon Ogres and Knights were engaged in vicious combat. Tharthrog bellowed in frustration and the Reiksmarshal was heard disgustedly muttering something about honour. As the battle lines of the two ‘allied’ forces arranged themselves for further conflict, it was the Maw-Tyrant who bellowed forth a ‘truce’ in broken man-speech, for Tharthrog knew he could not afford to suffer further losses. The two armies of Men and Ogre parted, but this bitter encounter would not be forgotten, nor, perhaps, forgiven…
THE SIEGE OF ARCHAOS
After defeating the armies of the Everchosen upon open field, Grom the Paunch had set his sights upon the massive Fortress of the Everchosen, Archaos, the capital of Archaon’s new realm. Along with his lieutenant, Sourgut, a most vile Goblin Warboss with an enchanted crown that seemingly grants him magical powers, Grom assaulted the mighty, black fortress with two huge broods of Trolls – Da War Trolls of da Misty Mountains and Da Rock Eaters. As the Trolls smashed at the fortress’s gates, Goblins archers on wolfback rained barbed arrows at the Chaos Warriors manning the ramparts. Victory was within Grom’s grasp when a legion of monstrous Slaughterbrutes appeared to relieve the besieged capital. Ranting and raving, Grom was forced to withdraw.
Furious with defeat when his moment of triumph was at hand, the Paunch hastily and recklessly regrouped his horde and immediately ordered a new assault upon the Chaos capital. Though Da Rock Eaters destroyed the black gate and captured the gatehouse, once again the massive Slaughterbrutes were released from hidden portals and broke the sieging Goblins. The Paunch was restrained by a mob of his own Goblins, who dragged him from the field as a hasty retreat was ordered, all the while Grom bellowed and howled for his army to hold to no avail. Archaos had held once again.
THE THING IN THE WOODS
The Chaos host under the fell Daemon Prince Xor’Etch had been cut off from the rest of Archaon’s forces and surrounded by the Empires of Men and Dwarfs. The task was placed upon the Dwarf Runesmith, Erik Wildstrider, to rid the lands from the taint of Xor’Etch and eliminate a very great threat to the Dwarf Empire. Erik was unusual for a Dwarf, for he found comfort amongst the green forests of the surface rather than the gloomy mountain strongholds preferred by his kin. The Forest of Drazul was been corrupted and sickened by Xor’Etch and his minions and so it was with great pride that Erik Wildstrider led an army of his kin to oust the unholy invaders.
Though outnumbered by the foul horde, Erik’s Dwarfs seized the initiative and immediately took the fight to the Chaos host. Early in the battle, the Dwarf cannon, ‘Stonetop’s Eight Pounder’, stuck down the infernal Daemon Prince in one lucky strike! With their Daemonic general vanquished, s huge Troll King took command of the Chaos Horde, leading a head on assault into the Dwarf gun line. Wildstrider’s Dwarf warriors heroically defeated the Trolls, though the vile Troll King escaped. The Dwarfs had succeeded in driving out the chaotic invaders. It is rumoured the Xor’Etch has survived, though his injury has sapped much of his strength.
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE
As the harsh winter all but cripples the various empires of the Old World, leaders strengthen their armies and fortify their lands for the coming spring. In a devilish game of politics, Captain Schein of the Imperial Courts had seeded agents within the Halfling domain of the Moot. For months, Schein’s upstarts have spread appalling propaganda throughout the Moot claiming the Halflings suffer only for the ‘Emperor’s unnecessary wars’ and that the Emperor is, in truth, in league with the servants of Chaos. Implored and manipulated by Schein’s agents, the Halfling Elder, William Plumpkin – Chief Burgomaster of the Moot, has declared the Moot’s succession from the Empire of Men.
Meanwhile an elite taskforce of Reiksguard, known as Squadron 31, infiltrated the captured halls of Barak Varr and ousted the Chaos forces within the Sea Fortress through the stratagems of espionage, sabotage and assassination! Elsewhere, in his golden-framed bed within the Imperial capital, the Emperor Karl Franz continues to rot with an unnatural sickness…
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR II – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (October 2013)
MIGHTY REINFORCEMENTS
A mighty bellow echoed across the lands of the Old World as Tharthrog’s Ogre reinforcements arrived from the Ogre Kingdoms in the east. Thurag Leadbelly had heeded the call to his master, the ferocious Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut, and fought his way through the blighted Dark Lands along with his small tribe of Ogre mercenaries. The Ogres that had survived the perilous march were the meanest and most maw-driven of Thurag’s boyz – and those were the only Bulls that mattered, for the Ogres that could not survive the long trek to the west were as good as a mob of crippled Gnoblars (in the eyes of Thurag anyway). With reinforcements at hand, Tharthrog was already feeling a bit bolder in the unfamiliar lands of the Old World, and soon the realms of the west would quench his thirst to devour those that opposed him…
THE MOOT IN FLAMES!
Deceived into a hasty decision to succeed from the ‘warmongering’ Empire of Men based on fraud and propaganda, William Plumpkin, Chief Burgomaster and Elder of the Moot, had called for the Emperor’s forces to leave the boarders of the Halfling domain. Acting with the authority of the Emperor, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno ordered the withdraw of all Imperial troops from the Moot – the Halflings would have to fend for themselves. Upon the departure of the State Troops, Plumpkin immediately mustered the Pancake Militia, the Moot’s own standing army. The defense of the Moot would now rely solely upon Halfling spear and bow. To his great regret, however, Plumpkin found the Halfling soldiery to be inadequate and incompetent. The Pancake Militia had become unsuited for proper warfare and had been spoiled with one too many honey cakes over the proceeding decades. The unfit Hobbits were bloated from vast consumptions of berry-bog wine, cream tarts and pudding pies. The Moot standing army was certainly no match for the depredations of Goreblade Skulltaker and his Khornate legions or Tharthrog Leadgut and his Ogre Marauders who had crossed the mountains to pillage the Empire. The rash Halfling leader had been deceived and manipulated by the Imperial Captain Schein’s charismatic words. The reason for this treachery and deception remain an enigma, but the now former-Elector of the Empire vowed to make amends with the Emperor and repair the damage he had done by declaring succession.
The Elder of the Moot called for an emergency meeting with all the local mayors, sheriffs and town administrators. Just before Plumpkin could veto his own writ of succession from the Emperor, however, a god-like champion like no other, gleaming in golden armour, strode into the town hall. All of the Moot’s assembled leaders reared their heads to the interloper clad in gold. Such was this champion’s prestige and magnanimity, that those who laid eyes upon him could not turn away from him, even if they wanted to! Where his piercing, blue eyes gazed, the assembled Halflings fell to their knees in praise of such an exalted being. An aura of ecstasy and serenity took hold of all those graced by his mere presence. And when the man in golden armour spoke, the Halflings listened. The Hobbits could not refuse his demands, even if they wanted to, for the man in gold was the favoured of Slaanesh and a sterling symbol of perfection incarnate. Prince Sigvald, the Magnificent, had seized the Moot with but a mere word.
When word reached the surrounding kingdoms of the villain that had commandeered the Moot, an alliance of Dwarfs and Men mustered before the newly constructed, mystical walls that now surrounded the Moot. Imperial Commander Grieshof and the Dwarf Runesmith Erik Wildstrider swore great oaths together that the vile Prince of Slaanesh would meet his doom by their hand. A huge battery of cannons pounded the wall and gates of the Moot, decimating entire regiments of Chaos Warriors and breaching the massive stonewalls. Standing atop the ramparts of the gatehouse, Sigvald the Magnificent stood in defiance of the lesser races that defied his new reign. Illuminated with a brilliant aura of radiance, Prince Sigvald became in instant target for the enemy siege engines. Yet, the Magnificent merely laughed as cannon balls bounced off his golden armour. Any wounds suffer by Sigvald immediately healed – for he was the Chosen of Slaanesh.
Atop a mighty Imperial siege tower, Commander Grieshof, and his household guard, ‘Grieshof’s Cleavers’, led the charge against the chaotic fortress. Balthasar Gelt, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, circled the fortress atop his Pegasus, Pandora, transmutating Chaos Warriors to solid gold and turning the iron armour of the enemy into lead. The legendary Gotrek Gurnisson and his companion Felix Jaeger, took the eastern wall themselves. When a massive Dragon Ogre Shaggoth blocked their path, Gotrek hacked it in two with a single, strapping sweep of his rune axe. Grieshof and his Cleavers clashed with Prince Sigvald and his personal retinue of Slaaneshi warriors atop the gatehouse. The Prince made a mocking solute with his blade at the Imperial Commander before hacking away at the Imperial soldiery. The Magnificent moved with the speed and grace of an Elf, each sweep of his blade was made with a fierce elegance, and wherever Sigvald’s blade fell, death followed. Such was the Magnificent’s hubris he fought with one hand behind his back, wickedly laughing and taunting the Imperial troops as he slit their throats and cleaved their limbs. Eventually, however, the Forces of Chaos were defeated. Sigvald’s entire army had been decimated, every warrior slain. As for Prince Sigvald himself, he merely sneered and shrugged before escaping into the nightly gloom.
Honoring old oaths sworn by Sigmar himself and in appreciation of their aid, the Empire relinquished control of the great Sea Fortress of Barak Varr to the Dwarfs, which had been liberated from the Lord Archaon over the winter. The Empire of Men and the Dwarfs of the Karaz Ankor had renewed their ancient alliance.
BLOOD IN THE VAULTS
At the foot of the Vaults, a mountain range connected to the northern Grey Mountains, Loki Magik-Dimmer and his Clan Dwarfs encountered the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch and his foul minions of Chaos. Accompanied by Gunnisson Honorbearer, the Hold’s righteous standard-bearer, Loki advanced across the field of battle with his honor guard of Hammers. In the center of the field a huge melee took place as the Hammers clashed with a horde of vile Chaos Trolls, led by the notorious Troll King – Throgg! The Trolls tore at the proud Dwarf warriors like starving cannibals, as the mighty Hammers bashed Troll hide and head with their warhammers. Where the Dwarf warriors succumbed to their wounds, the Trolls did not. Their regenerating flesh reknit, closing gaping wounds and the Trolls fought on undeterred. As Throgg spewed forth a most heinous retch of rancid puke upon the Dwarfs, one of the Hammers struck the massive Troll King square in the forehead with his rune-etched hammer, breaking the massive tusk where rested the Troll King’s own crown. The mighty Throgg fell.
As the battle raged on around them, the Trolls, in a bizarre, enthusiastic display of revenge for their king’s demise, assailed the Dwarfs in a relentless rage. Loki, Gunnisson and the entire honor guard were swept aside before them. Loki’s own rune-armour, an ancient heirloom in his clan for generations, was completely disintegrated by Troll vomit, causing Loki to swear upon the honour of his entire clan to bring about retribution – the demise of all Trolls! Both sides suffered such heavy casualties that none could claim solid victory.
BIRTH OF A DAEMON
At the Battle of the Blood Alter, Goreblade Skulltaker and his legion of Khorne warriors met the First Parade Company of the Empire, led by Reiksmarshal Arno himself, in an enormous battle the shook the lands for a hundred leagues around them. The Skullchrushers of Khorne cut a bloody swathe of red ruin across the Imperial army. Such was this great slaughter that after personally beheading several Imperial Sergeants, Goreblade Skulltaker gained the ire of Khorne himself! Pleased with the great slaughter of the feeble Men of Sigmar, Khorne bestowed his boon upon his proud champion. In an instant, Goreblade’s flesh turned black, cracking apart to reveal a shiny, daemonic hide brimming with the radiance of Chaos. Massive horns, black as midnight, erupted from his forehead and a pair of giant, bat-like, wings jutted from his shoulder blades. The Khorne Lord’s eyes narrowed into evil, daemonic slits, and his voice amplified with a dreadful tang, as if belonging to an ancient horror from the abyss. Goreblade Skulltaker, Chaos Lord of Khorne had been elevated to daemonhood. The massive Daemon Prince of Khorne bellowed a triumphant howl that shimmered across the battlefield. The Reiksmarshal sounded a retreat before the newly born Daemon Prince could unleash its full fury.
UNKNOWING ODDS
The Dwarf King Rodin, looking to press an advantage against the forces of the Everchosen, ambushed a small Chaos warband trespassing upon Dwarven domains. However, what seemed to be a small force of Chaos worshippers was in fact merely the vanguard to the enormous Chaos Horde of Archaon, Chosen of the Chaos Gods! Although astonished by the sheer size of Archaon’s Horde, the Dwarf King marched forward defiantly at the head of his personal guard. Where the Dwarf King and his Hammers strode, all marauders, mutants and monsters in his path were smashed aside, including the great Shaggoth, Throtgore, who King Rodin personally put out of its misery with his rune-hammer. Although the Everchosen did not meet the Dwarf King amidst the field of battle, Archaon and his Swords of Chaos circled around the great Throng of Dwarfs, annihilating all Dwarfs before them and ultimately forcing the Dwarf King to withdraw. The pages of the King’s book of grudges continue to swell with the blasphemous name: Archaon.
THE MAWSEEKER’S TRIUMPH
Hungry for more man flesh, the Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut, lead his Ogre marauders, once again, to defile Imperial lands. Lord Commander Arno met the obese Ogres upon his hasty retreat from the Khorne Legions of Goreblade Skulltaker. As Arno and his Rieksguard Knights broke the Ogre hordes, the massive brute known as the Mawseeker, single-handedly halted the advance of the Imperial Knights. Seeing the corpulent colossal of an Ogre waving their chieftain’s standard and tearing off limbs of knights in shinning armour with nothing but his massive maw, the Ogres rallied – for the Great Maw surely favoured the relentless Mawseeker! The Reiksmarshal and his knights were soon overwhelmed and severally beaten back by the raptured Ogres. As the Lord Commander was forced into a tactical withdraw, Tharthrog and his Ogres feasted upon the remains of his men.
THE GREEN MENACE
While the empires of Men and Dwarfs deal with the threat of multiple Chaos incursions and marauding Ogres. The rumours of the return of the notorious Goblin King, Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain, become a matter-of-fact reality! Sweeping through the Badlands and the southern Worlds Edge Mountains, the seemingly endless tides of Goblins advanced into the fray in the north.
The chaotic renegade Wulfrik, a potent Chaos Chieftain, who has come to despise the Goblins and their ilk after numerous defeats met the Wolf Riding vanguard of the Grom’s armies led by Grom himself – a horde of a thousand, thousand wolf riders and backed by squadrons of wolf-drawn chariots. Outmaneuvered and outnumbered by the vast horde, Wulfrik was no match for the Goblins. The Paunch himself, bawling and farting atop his huge chariot, charged into Scyla Anfingrimm, a once-mighty Champion of Khorne so booned with gifts of his Blood God he had devolved into a mindless Spawn of Chaos. Grom’s chariot smashed into the beast, toppling the monster to the ground. Chopping through Scyla’s thick, scaly hide with his mighty axe, Elf Biter, Grom put the foul thing out of its misery before it could even strike back. Just before making a hasty retreat, Wulfrik cut down the Goblin Shaman, Zappgit, in a ferocious display of vengeance and hatred. The shaman miraculously survived, but no longer seems quite right (not that he was right beforehand) and now suffers from a chronic case of talking to himself in a myriad of voices.
The walled town of Ginshiem was razed to the ground, with every man, woman and child slaughter for Khorne by the ferocious Blood-Lord Brand, the Bloody-Handed and his Khornate-worshipping warriors. Soon after the Goblin host of the deadly Spider-King, Gitgog, arrived. Vastly outnumbered by the Goblins, the Blood-Lord’s warriors took refuge within the ruined village they had just razed in the name of the Blood God. Atop the Great Gog, the gigantic Arachnarok Spider, Gitgog unleashed bolts of green lightning upon the Chaos Warriors, while Doom Divers rained down upon the ruined townhouses. The warriors were all but helpless against the onslaught of missile fire and magic. As the Blood-Lord fled, the Spider-King immediately pursued the remains of the Khornate warband further north.
THE SIEGE OF SLAUGHTERLOO
In attempt to gain a secure foothold in the mountains, Tharthrog’s lieutenant, Thurag Leadbelly, boldly assaulted the chaotic city of Slaughterloo, the dread fortress-capital of Goreblade Skulltaker, newly exalted Daemon Prince of Khorne. The walls of the cursed stronghold wailed and moaned as daemonic faces seemingly imbedded within the city walls leered and taunted at the advancing Ogres. As the Bulls assaulted the chaotic walls of the city, a huge Stonehorn pounded the city’s gates with its massive mountain-stone, horned forehead. At the moment of Thurag’s triumph however, a relief force of Khorne Skullcrushers came charging through the mountain pass. Unprepared for such potent reserves, the Ogre horde’s moral broke. The capital of Goreblade had endured.
THE MISSING TWIN
Meanwhile, Kareem Mustafa, the Bane of Araby and one-half of the Twins Sons of Tzeentch, searches for his captured twin brother. The Tzeentchian Sorcerer Vrokaw had been defeated and captured by the Imperial forces of Commander Grieshof, only to have been discovered missing shortly after the battle. Grieshof immediately dispatched search parties to hunt down the wicked Son of Tzeentch and had set a bounty of one hundred gold crowns upon the sorcerer’s head. Scrying into the ancient Mirror of Infinities, Kareem, however, has learned his brother is, in truth, at the mercy of Barnabas Schein – a ruthless and egotistical Captain of the Empire. Stole away in a remote dungeon of sorts, Captain Schein has plans of his own for the fallen Chaos Sorcerer…
THE GREAT WALL OF GORK
Morkwart Gutwarp, a potent Goblin Shaman and self-proclaimed ‘Prophet of Mork’, once ridiculed by Grom as a fraud, has proved himself a worthy vassal of the greenskin deities. Morkwart has acquired several lost artifacts of the goblinoids and presented them to Grom as a sign of his king’s great fortune and destiny to usher the world into a new era – the Age of the Goblin! The fabled Armour of Gork, Mork’s War Banner and the Battle Axe of the Last Waaagh! have all be retrieved by Morkwart Gutwarp, surely a sign that Grom is favoured by his gods. At the same time, Grom’s Goblins have completed ‘the Great Wall of Gork,’ a massive line of connected fortresses that stretch across the Badlands through the southern Worlds Edge Mountains. Such an omen can only spell doom for the realms of Men, Dwarfs and Elves…And in the huge Orc fortress of Thunder Mountain, Morhog the Mighty, the fiercest Black Orc Warboss of the age, once again musters his Black Legions of Orcs and Chaos Dwarf Thralls to strike and stomp his hated enemies…
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (April 2014)
FOREBODING DREAMS
As spring had fully blossomed into summer, the aptitude of the Elves of Athel Loren was at its zenith. At their yearly height of power however, all was not as it should be. Chaotic Beastmen grew bolder, interloping into the forest realm more frequently than ever before and tribes of Forest Goblins had been found breeding their bulbous spiders in the darker places of the woods. Word of a terrible war that had touched nearly all the lands of the Old World had reached the pointed-ears of Ariel and Orion, the Queen and King of the Wood. It had been decided to leave the enemies of Order for the realms of Men and Dwarfs to deal with, for the Wood Elves would only defend their own realm of Athel Loren. The fate of mankind was of no concern to the Wood Elves. The goblinoid hordes, said to be united under two potent warlords, had spread throughout the Badlands like a relentless epidemic threating the Empire with its dying Emperor and all of civilization. The forces of Chaos under the appointed ‘Everchosen’ of the Chaos gods had begun his invasion from, seemingly both the North and South. Even so, darker rumours had surfaced.
One foul night, the Mage Queen Ariel was visited by malevolent visions. A shadow consumed Athel Loren, as well as the entire world. See saw an evil crown and a legion of darkness. Her kin were dead, but not, and the world groveled before a dreadful, omnipotent lord. When Ariel awoke, a visage of terror spoiled her angelic face and she could only muttered the words ‘Death Has Risen.’ Ariel’s handmaiden and apprentice, Yenayla Sunweaver, used her magic in attempt to break her Queen’s mysterious trance, but to no avail. King Orion called for the Great Council to convene in the King’s Glade to discuss the Queen’s illness. After long hours of debate, the King in the Woods declared that no elf would leave the boarders of Athel Loren until the Queen had recovered.
Yenayla opposed the decision of the council; indeed her self-righteousness had defied the Great Council on prior occasions. Ignoring her king’s command, Yenayla, accompanied by her foxlike familiar, Niley, assembled a small host – those loyal to Queen Ariel above all else – and marched from Athel Loren under a spell of concealment. Yenayla would find the answers of her Queen’s apparent hexed-condition and protect her realm from this growing evil or die in attempt!
THE GREEN CONFEDERACY
The Orc and Goblin warlords, Morhog the Mighty and Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain, made an uneasy alliance combining their goblinoids into a single, unstoppable Waaagh! The united Green Tides marched further north overwhelming and annihilating anyone who resisted the goblinoid hordes. Tharthrog Leadgut and his Indomitable Leadguts met one of the combined banners of greenskins upon ground sacred to that of the Great Maw, the voracious Ogre deity. The Greenskins led by Morhog the Mighty himself and the sinister Spider-king, Gitgog, surrounded the Leadgut Ogres in a deadly pincher assault. Such was the bellicose excitement of the assembled Orcs and Goblins that the battlefield resonated with overwhelming amounts of raw Waaagh! energy, manifested by the enthusiastic greenskins. So great was this vigor of the Waaagh! that the greenskin shamans could not even control its destructive power. Green lightning raced across the battlefield like a torrential storm, causing havoc upon both the greenskins and the Ogres. The head of Ugruck Spooktalka, Morhog’s chief shaman, exploded in a ghastly mess of green innards when the shaman failed to properly manipulate the Waaagh! energy. The Black Orcs, however, reveling under the intensity of the Waaagh!, surged forwards to meet Tharthrog and his Irongut guard known as Morgang’s Bashers. The corpulent Ironguts and Morhog’s Black Orcs were evenly matched as the two shock elites slugged their gore-covered blades to a bloody stalemate. It was only when the Giants, Ol’ One Eye and Drex the Destroyer, charged into the fray that Tharthrog was defeated and forced to withdraw.
With his ego (and appetite) bruised, Tharthrog sent his Gnoblar messenger, Snotrag, upon his Sabretusk, Legsnapper, to the Blood Fortress of Slaughterloo, where his Slaughtermaster Erag Steelbelly had been camped while sieging the immense Khornate capital. Tharthrog ordered Erag to withdraw immediately, for the upstart Orc Warlord Morhog was a rising threat that needed to be dealt with and hastily devoured. Erag ordered his Ogres to forgo the siege and headed south to find the Black Orc Warlord with intent to feed Morhog to the Great Maw.
With the Ogres apparently abandoning their siege, Goreblade Skulltaker along with his new and mysterious alley, the Necromancer Garak Craine, were allowed to freely resume their search for the legendary Tomb of Krell.
THE DEFENSE OF BARAK VARR
Archaon, the Everchosen of Chaos, determined to recapture the ancient Dwarf hold of Barak Varr, made a pact with Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain in order to retake the Dwarf Sea Fortress. Grom agreed to the factitious alliance by sending a horde of Goblins led by Gitilla da Hunter and Grom’s own personal guard of Stone Trolls – Da Rockeaters. Together the forces of the Everchosen and the Goblins assaulted the hated Dwarven capital. King Rodin stood defiantly upon the ramparts, his bodyguard of Hammers besides him, and waited for the denizens of Chaos to begin their assault upon the ancient Dwarf hold. The Sea Fortress had been captured only once during the long millennia, by Archaon himself, but only temporarily. Thanks to the Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno and Empire of Men, the hold’s rightful owners – the Dwarfs of Karak Ankor – had reclaimed the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, and Rodin swore by Grungi that Barak Varr would never fall again.
Without Grom’s presence on the field of battle, the Goblin ranks were quickly overcome by their innate bickering. Gitilla himself, in an effort to prove himself ‘da best,’ foolishly lead the initial assault against the Dwarf Hold, which resulted in disaster for the Goblins. Seeing ‘da great’ and crazed Gitilla apparently fall early in the battler, the Goblins fled. Dwarf artillery pummeled the ranks of Chaos Warriors advancing upon the fortress but the will of the Everchosen held the horde together. No matter how many warriors fell to the ballistics of the Dwarfs, the Chaos horde continued its relentless, ruthless advance. Archaon led his retinue of Chosen Warriors in assaulting the gatehouse where King Rodin and his Hammerers awaited their chaotic foes. A hidden muzzle just above the gate fired a blast of burning soot, melting through Chaos armour, bone and flesh alike. Still Archaon led on and as the Chosen Warriors, scaling iron ladders, appeared at the tops on the ramparts a bloody battle ensued as the Dwarf King’s Hammers smashed into the emerging Chaos Warriors. The denizens of Chaos continued to assault the walls despite their losses until only the Lord of the End Times himself remained. Unleashing the power of the Daemon-sword, the Slayer of Kings, Archaon singlehandedly slaughtered Dwarf after Dwarf in a dark fury akin to that of a mighty Daemon. Finally, the Dwarf warriors converged upon the Chaos Lord at once and while King Rodin locked his rune-hammer with the Slayer of Kings, Rodin’s guard drove Archaon over the parapet sending the Lord of the End Times falling to the uncaring ground below. Barak Varr had once again held against the forces of Chaos.
A FOREST OF FOES
West of Barak Varr, a mysterious forest appeared from seemingly thin air, suspicious Dwarf rangers immediately suspected Elven trickery for the mere sight of the forest dwelling stirred ancient grudges within their unforgiving hearts. The Forest Stalkers of Yenayla Sunweaver had arrived for their own mysterious reasons. Several of their ancient waystones, monoliths of vast magical power, which disrupt the winds of magic and assist in containing the denizens of the Realm of Chaos, had been desecrated by the constant war engulfing the continent and Yenayla saw fit to restore and secure the magical monuments, for such ruin could only hasten the coming evil. The Daemon Prince Xor’Etch intended to glean the magic within the waystone to make itself invincible. An assemble alliance of Men and Dwarfs soon arrived and although they knew not of the Daemon’s plan, they knew the forces of Chaos must be defeated. While Yenayla was fully aware of Xor’Etch’s plot to siphon the magic of waystones, she recognized that Men and Dwarfs could not be trusted either; their greed was just as deadly as the Daemon Prince’s evil. And so commenced a titanic battle of Men, Dwarfs, Elves and the forces of Chaos – the Battle of Gambit’s Bluff.
King Rodin and his royal Dwarfs had marched from Barak Varr in order to personally investigate the sightings of the Elves; as the choleric Dwarf King had grumbled ‘there is nothing as sure in the world as the glitter of gold and the treachery of Elves!’ It was the Wood Elves, however, who took first blood from the chaotic host as volleys of arrows showered the Chaos horde. Seeing the Elves attack the common enemy satisfied Rodin (to a point) and the Dwarf King ordered his own warriors to attack the Chaos host, though ever watchful of Elven double-dealing. Yenayla and her Elves seemed to be everywhere upon the battlefield. One moment the Wood Elves could be seen beheading Chaos Hounds with their elegant blades and the next they would appear far from the confines of the melee, shooting down their enemies from the sanctuary of the woods. The Elves eventually turned their hit and run tactics upon the Dwarfs and Men; their intent could not be conceived by the notions of Men and Dwarfs. When King Rodin’s retinue of Hammers threaten the Elven battle line, Yenayla used her magic to open a vast rift upon the ground beneath them, causing many of the King’s Guard to be swallowed by the earth itself. When the Chaos horde and the Dwarfs finally clashed in the center of the field, Yenayla’s Elves managed to locate the waystones and cloak the potent monuments with deceptive magics; such was the strength of the enchantments that even unnatural, Daemon sight would be able to detect the waystones. With their mission accomplished, the Elves melted back into the forest, while their enemies battled, fruitlessly, on.
CHAOS RISING
With armies of Orcs and Goblins invading into Dwarven territory, Archaon the Everchosen and his Hordes of Chaos joined the greenskins at the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand. There, Archaon led the vanguard of the horde, and not waiting for the Goblins to advance, swiftly and relentless tore into the Dwarf’s who were making a desperate last stand. Runelord Rumphle Runestirker, having recently crafted a potent rune akin to the ancient Dwarf runes of Old, released the power of the ancients upon his foes by striking the great Anvil of Doom. Bolts of ancient power were unleashed upon the Chaos host striking a huge squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne. As the smoke cleared, however, the Skullcrushers emerged unscathed charging ferociously into the Dwarf battle lines. Still enraged by his recent defeat at Barak Varr, Archaon swore upon his foul gods that he would bathe in the blood of all his enemies. And so the dark powers of Chaos were appeased or so it seemed. During the height of the battle, surrounded by piles of mangled Dwarf warriors, Archaon unleashed a bloodcurdling roar as his armour cracked and his flesh turned black. The Lord of the End times swelled in proportions until finally fully transformed into a massive, daemonic form radiating with chaotic, inferno energy. The Chaos Gods had elevated their favoured Champion to Daemonhood. The remaining Dwarfs were no match for the augmented Everchosen who went on slaughtering all in his path before the greenskins could even reach the Dwarf battle line.
THE MUD FLATS
Morhog rendezvous with Grom’s Goblins at the Dead Plains; where together the two green hordes united as one and marched further north with intent to bring the Empire of Men to ruin. At the Battle of the Mud Flats, the greenskins met a huge army of Dwarfs. At the same time Erag Steelbelly and his Ogres arrived determined to find and personally slay (and personally eat) Morhog the Mighty. The Dwarf line led by Loki Magic-Dimmer marched forward in a seemingly irresistible shield wall to smash their hated enemies. Although the greenskins outnumbered the Dwarfs, the foul goblinoids could not break the shield wall of the Dwarfs and were slaughtered as the greenskins were repelled by the invulnerable Dwarf formation. A huge Idol of Gork (or possibly Mork) erected by Morhog’s boyz and animated by Orcish magic spearheaded the charge into a massive formation of Ogre Bulls. As the stone behemoth swept its mighty rock-limbs through the Ogres ranks, Erag, calling upon the Great Maw, infused the Bulls with gut magic, increasing their already bulky stature in both sinew and girth. With their enhanced stamina and strength, the Ogres brought down the gigantic, Orcish titian. A huge horde of Goblin Wolfriders circled around Loki’s shield wall, charging them in their vulnerable flank. Yet, the fuming Dwarfs cleaved through the Goblins and their Giant Wolves all the same. Motivated by the presence of Grom himself, Slagrot Spida-Eyes riding his pet spider, Creep, howled a fierce battle-cry as he led a pair of Gigantic Spiders, charging into the Dwarf wall. Slagrot was quickly silenced as the huge Spiders were hacked to pieces and Slagrot himself was thrown from Creep. Atop his double-decker chariot, Grom yelled and cursed at his Gobbos to squash the ‘stunties’ to no avail. When a Dwarf Engineer spied the obese Goblin King atop his chariot, he ordered his cannon crew to fire upon the Goblin King. The wooden chariot exploded in a hail of splinters and matted wolf-fur, collapsing in a thunderous roar and burying Grom beneath the rubble.
Morhog roared with laughter at Grom’s demise and, with intent of both winning the battle and usurping the entire green horde, led his boyz in a furious charge to defeat the Dwarfs and Ogres without Grom’s help. Despite his mighty stature and hatred of the Dwarfs, Morhog, nor his boyz, could crack the Dwarf shield wall. The Dwarfs were relentless in their own fury and slaughtered the Orcs under their great axes and hammers. Morhog was pushed back and as he howled at his fleeing warriors to stand and fight, a creature of massive proportions appeared behind the greenskin lines. The goblinoids had disturbed the lair of an enormous Dread Saurian, and its vexation was unleashed upon the greenskins with primordial rage. It lashed out at the disrupted Orcs with a large, toothy maw, chopping and swallowing entire Orcs whole. Admitting defeat, Morhog could do nothing but shrug before fleeing from the battle himself.
While Morhog abandoned his army and fled for the hills, Grom emerged from the ruins of his destroyed chariot. Seeing the mighty Paunch rise from his seemingly demise, the remaining horde flocked to his side. The Goblins then made a hasty withdraw, in good order, as the stout Dwarfs of Chaos, in service to Morhog’s Orcs, stubbornly refused to flee in a last stand holding action, inadvertedly providing the Goblins the opportunity to escape. Loki’s Grudgestriking Dwarfs and the monstrous Dread Saurian encircled the remaining Chaos Dwarf thralls, utterly destroying the servants of Morhog in retribution of their abominable existence.
THE TOMB OF KRELL
Goreblade Skulltaker, Exalted of Khorne had been rumoured to be licking his wounds back at his capital of Slaughterloo after numerous defeats. In truth, with the help of the Necromancer Garak Craine, Goreblade had become obsessed with finding the ancient crypt of Krell, a once-undefeatable champion of Khorne. Unbeknown to Goreblade, Krell had been resurrected by the Great Necromancer Nagash in ages past, to fight in his campaigns against the warrior-god Sigmar. Now, Goreblade had found the tomb of this ancient warrior.
To the Daemon Prince’s surprise however, Krell’s remains had not been confined to his crypt, but instead animated to un-life once again along with his own dread legion of Wights. As Krell strode forward to confront Goreblade, at the Wight King’s side was Snyder Geldwyck, another potent Lord of Undeath who had been rumoured to be regaining his strength within his ancient citadel. Geldwyck wished a parley with Goreblade, for he had a message from his master – Nagash. Geldwyck explained of the dire events that had secretly led to the resurrection of the Supreme Lord of the Undead by his most loyal servants. Ultimately, Goreblade was offered a choice: join the Undead Legions of Nagash willing, forsaking the Blood God Khorne or serve the Great Necromancer as a mindless servant. Geldwyck promised incredible rewards for choosing the boon of Nagash.
Goreblade gave his answer to the Necromancer in the form of a blood-splattering display of violence as Goreblade tore off the head of Kareem, the Tzeentchian sorcerer-twin, with his bare hands. Instantly the brass collar of Khorne around Goreblade’s neck snapped and disintegrated as the Blood God withdrew his favour from his former servant. Soon the surrounding lands shuddered at the echoing cackle of Snyder Geldwyck…
Leagues away the captured Twin Son of Tzeentch, Vrokaw, felt the death of his brother ripple through his veins, wracking the sorcerer with intense, burning convulsions. Vrokaw collapsed in the tiny confines of his magically imbued cell. Gazing upon the broken Chaos Sorcerer, Imperial Captain Schein grinned. Soon he would be able to complete the Great Ritual of Eternal Rapture…
Meanwhile and elsewhere, the Blood God Khorne rose from his Skull Throne bellowing a murderous bray. The ferocious howl resonated with a tang of rage and hate such that the entire Realm of Chaos was momentarily silenced.
THE SIMPLEST OF TRICKS
In attempt to usurp of the power of the Everchosen and prove his worth to the Gods of Chaos, the Daemon Prince, Be’lakor had used all his remaining strength from the aether in attempt to possess Archaon and attain the mantle of the Everchosen for himself. During the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand where Archaon’s lust for slaughter had been at its peak, the immaterial form of Be’lakor possessed the Everchosen’s body, seemingly morphing Archaon to Daemonhood. In truth, Archaon had not been elevated to Daemonhood, rather simply bloated by the potency of Be’lakor. The Daemon, however, could not dominate the vast will of Archaon and so the complete possession of the Everchosen was thwarted. Now the two vassals of the Chaos gods are locked in constant conflict within the body of the Everchosen, in a continuous battle for dominance. At times Archaon manages to suppress the Daemon Prince’s ambitions, while at other times Be’lakor’s will waxes, as the Everchosen’s seems to wane. If the two minds could only compromise an alliance the world would certainly fall to their ambitions, meanwhile their constant struggle for dominance wages on…
NEW NAGASHIZZAR
After his crippling defeat at the hands of the Dwarfs (with their Ogre allies) and his disunion with Grom the Paunch, Morhog returned to his fortress at Thunder Mountain. When he arrived the Black Orc Warlord found his stronghold had been commandeered and completely ossified into a fortress of bone. Skeleton warriors in the form of undead Orcs barred his entrance; Morhog easily bashed them aside for their impunity. The Black Orc Warlord was met with no further hostility, eventually finding his way to his former throne room. What he found was a horrific sight, even to a mighty Orc of Morhog’s stature. A giant, undead-thing sat upon the dais on a throne made of Orcish skulls and bones. An abomination to all living things, Nagash, Supreme Lord of the Undead gazed upon the foul Black Orc with a malevolent glare. All of Morhog’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed by a potent voice, resonating with dialect of an ancient evil. The voice spoke of the death of the Old Gods, including Morhog’s own deities of Gork and Mork. The future was nothing but the Will of Nagash the voice claimed. The Lord of Undeath gave Morhog a choice; he would serve the Great Necromancer as a mindless automaton or as one of his generals – one of the Nine Dark Lords of Nagash. Morhog’s own demands were moot. Rather than face oblivion, Morhog forsaked his own deities and swore service to the Dark Lord.
Upon Morhog’s agreement, he instantly fell into a spasm wracked with agony. His Orcy flesh melted from his bones, his armour was reinforced by ossified obsidian and his mind wiped of any true independent thought – his memories of his Orcy life became nothing but a distant echo. Morhog had fallen, not in glorious, Orcy battle, but in obedience to a vast evil. In Morhog’s place rose Morgosh the Damned, Mortach of Rancor. A burning green light illuminated from his once-Orcish eyes and with a deep bow to his new master, the Ninth Dark Lord of Nagash strode from New Nagashizzar to bring Nagash’s order to a world drowned in chaos.
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (October 2014)
DARK DESIGNS
Captain Schein walked up the steps of the golden dais. It was time that he held his end of the bargain, for too many delays might seem like failures in the eyes of others; especially to those will little patience. What he was about to do would set events in motion, events Schein knew were far from his control.
‘Do it,’ whispered the voice, ‘do it now.’ That voice had been in Schein’s head even since he first heard it. It was a voice of confidence, calm, seduction and power all in one. When he heard the voice, Schein desired nothing else other than to listen. And now it was time to set his true master’s plan in motion.
The Golden Lion, as the Talabecland soldiers called him, reached the final step upon the dais and looked at the once-potent sorcerer before him. The broken body of Vrokaw lay before him, shackled to the sacrificial alter, unmoving, for a potent spell had ensorcelled the Tzeentchian sorcerer, completely paralyzing Vrokaw’s form, except for his eyes and ears – they had been left free to witness Schein’s triumph.
The Imperial Captain stood over the sorcerer’s broken husk and met his eyes with those of the, lone, Twin Son of Tzeentch. Schein thought he could see fear is the sorcerer’s eyes as he drew the ritual dagger and raised it high into the air, but before plunging the blade into Vrokaw’s chest, the captain bent over and whispered into the sorcerer’s ear.
‘It’s nothing personal, wizard,’ Schein snarled in amusement. ‘You simply chose the wrong god.’ It was the last thing Vrokaw heard before meeting his master in oblivion…
A NEW HOPE
As cool winds blew the dead leaves of the Drakwald Forest across the provinces of the Empire, the bell towers in Altdorf rang in celebration, for the Emperor of Men had finally stirred and emerged from his deathbed. Though not as his full virility, Karl Franz appeared to have defeated his seemingly unnatural ague. Although glad for their emperor’s restored health, his imperial attendants pleaded the emperor to stay in bed until he had fully recovered. With a wave of his hand, Franz shooed his attendants away and called for his bodyguard. Ludwig Schwarzhelm, the Emperor’s Justice was smiling for the first time in years. Schwarzhelm was a man of grim demeanor and his expressionless face caused others to immediately turn away if their eyes happened to meet, but it pleased the Old Justice to see his liege lord standing out of bed for the first time in years.
‘Ludwig,’ the Emperor commanded, ‘prepare my mount.’
‘Your mount, Sire?’ Schwarzhelm gasped, ‘but you’ve only just awoken – Reiksmarshal Arno is tending to the protection of the realm. You need rest, my lord, to recover your strength.’
‘Do as I command Ludwig, prepare my mount – I have seen what is coming, and it is time that I act. It is my duty to protect the Empire and so I shall.’
‘Of course, Sire.’ The Emperor’s Justice nodded. He might not agree with his Emperor, but he understood the Emperor’s duty. It was a common understanding between the two. ‘Deathclaw will be saddled and ready within the hour.'
‘No. Not Deathclaw.’ The Emperor replied. ‘Ready the Dragon.’
THE MAW-TOOTH
The Great Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut had finally triumphed. After numerous failed attempts in capturing the Khornate fortress, Slaughterloo, Tharthrog and his Leadgut Ogres had managed to build a stronghold worthy of the Great Maw. It would be the capital of his new realm and a base of operations in which to launch further campaigns of turmoil in the Old World, for its location lay centrally in a strategic position. From the Maw-Tooth, which his tribe had begun to call the fortress, Tharthrog could launch an invasion at nearly any enemy he deemed necessary. The lands of Goreblade Skulltaker could easily be assailed from the Maw-Tooth, as could the Dwarven Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, the remains of Morhog Da Mighty’s domain was also in easy reach and if the arrogant man-thing, Arno, annoyed him enough, Tharthrog could bring low the provinces of the Empire. For now, though, Tharthrog needed the so-called Lord Commander and Reiksmarshal of the Empire, but the alliance was uneasy at best. It was only months ago that the two allies, Arno and Tharthrog, had meet in battle, in fact. The humans were needed more than ever now, though, for just as the final stones had been placed and the Maw-Tooth complete, a sea of Goblins mustered before its very gates. Severally outnumbered, Tharthrog was pleased to have the humans around – they were just like Gnoblars, after all, only less prone to fleeing, and they tasted much better if it came to that. If it meant some miserable man-things needed to shed blood for the preservation of the Maw-Tooth, then so it would be.
Outside the Ogryn fortress, the Goblin horde prepared for the siege, led by their king – Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Regarding Fort Maw-Tooth, Grom and Tharthrog were in agreement. The fortress’s location was tactically sound and Grom desired this citadel in order to further his campaign of destruction further north and east. From the Maw-Tooth, Grom could establish a foot hole in which to launch invasions into the heart of both the Human and Dwarf Empires. The Goblin Warlord did not wish to trifle with the Maw-Tyrant, but Tharthrog’s fortress was too important to ignore. Without the aid of the Black Orc Warlord Morhog, who apparently had fled for the hills, Grom needed to secure a stronghold in the north, else his armies might be surrounded and trapped by his numerous foes.
Targeting the war machines of Man and Ogre alike, the Goblin machineries of destruction destroyed several artillery pieces atop the castle ramparts. Vastly outnumbered and undermanned (under-ogred?) the Goblins quickly surrounded the Maw-Tooth scaling the walls with crudely built ladders. Grom rode atop a massive siege tower heaved forward by his guard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters. The combined black powder weaponry of both Man and Ogre slew scores of Goblins but not enough to break the horde and save the fortress. Grom and his Goblins quickly overran the Maw-Tooth and Tharthrog was forced to withdraw. The Maw-Tyrant would regroup with his Slaughtermaster, Erag Steelbelly, and his other war-leaders, and soon make the Goblins suffer for seizing his newly established capital.
Tharthrog roared in anger. To have lost in battle to the meager foe that were Goblin rabble was infuriating. He snatched one of the Gnoblars that scurried across his path and tossed the crying, little runt into his massive, toothy maw, as his army forced marched to meet and plan with Thurag and Erag. The sensation of the greenthing’s flesh running down to his stomach eased the tension he felt and gave him time to reflect. The battle itself wasn’t a complete loss, although having Morgang’s Bashers, his personal bodyguard, chopped down was an expensive blow. It served them right though, for their failures in securing the Maw-tooth. Looking at how Rerolf, Nerfug, Taruk, and the Gorestompers were bested by undisciplined Trolls told Tharthrog his guard would soon be replaced by Ogres made of sterner stuff. For now he would have to look forward to meeting with his war-leaders for the first time since sending out the bellow that summoned them. Looking south he saw Goblin lands that needed pillaging…
THE SECOND SIEGE OF FORT MAW-TOOTH
As Grom ordered a crudely constructed stone effigy of the Great Maw, which the Ogres had built, defiled and reshaped into his own likeness, wolf rider scouts reported the advance of a large Imperial force of Men. Valten, the Emperor’s Champion, a man with the warrior prowess and look of Sigmar himself led this army. The bleeding Empire, with a crippled emperor had been so desperate for a hero to emerge as their savor that the common folk and soldiers of the Empire had begun calling Valten the ‘Herald of Sigmar’ or even ‘Sigmar Reborn’ after Valten single-handedly saved an Imperial barracks from a Beastmen raid. The Reiksmarshal Arno, saw how the young man had inspired the troops, this combined with his exception combat prowess made Valten the perfect figurehead for the realm – a sterling symbol of the unanimity of the Empire of Men.
The recent wars had depleted many of the able leaders of the Empire. The Emperor was bed ridden, Arno’s predecessor Kurt Helborg had been slain, the Grand Theogonist Volkmar had gone missing after leading a foolish expedition into Sylvania and two of Arno’s closest friends and allies, each highly capable generals of the Empire themselves, Grand Marshal Dietrich von Norbert and Count Aldebrand Ludenhof, the Elector of Hochland, had both been murdered, mysteriously, just after Arno was granted the mantle of Reiksmarshal from the Emperor himself. Arno was seriously lacking able field commanders and leaders; Captain Schien was a weasel, more concerned with the politics of the court, rather than defending his Empire. Schien had allowed – a valuable hostage – the captured Chaos Sorcerer Vrokaw to apparently escape and the conceded captain failed to respond to the Lord Commander’s last summons of him. His chief engineer was a drunk and Balthasar Gelt, was acting more like a mercenary these days than the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The Empire was in need of heroes, and Arno saw fit to make this Sigmar look-alike a hero whether he actually was or not. Like the Ogre and Goblin Warlords, Arno desired the fortress for the same strategic importance.
Assaulting the Goblin fortress before the Goblins were completely prepared, Valten led the men of the Empire up the fortress walls and over the parapet, crushing Goblins skulls with every swing of his twin hammers. While the soldiers scaled the walls upon ladders, Valten climbed the walls with his bare hands, seemingly mimicking the actions of Sigmar, when, according to legend, Sigmar himself ascended the walls of Middenheim with his bare hands in ages past. Clearing the southern tower of Goblin rabble, a pack of Cave Squigs was unleashed upon the Human interlopers, the fleshy balls of talon-like teeth bit through armour and limbs like a hot knives through butter, but the determined advance of Valten kept the men fighting despite such bizarre horror. It was then when another mob of Goblins entered the rampart walls from the northern tower. This Goblin mob was led by a massive, bloated beast (for a Goblin, anyway!), as Grom the Paunch himself emerged to see off the ‘’ummies’ and challenged the Herald of Sigmar to single combat.
Accepting the challenge, Valten dashed forward and stormed the Goblin King with a series of blows from his war hammers, backing Grom to the edge of the castle parapet and causing the obese warlord to drop his enchanted axe. To Valten’s dismay, however, the grievous wounds he had inflicted upon Grom’s vast gut and chest had seemed to reknit and mend before his very eyes. With a crushing sucker punch, Grom broke Valten’s nose with a single mighty blow from his mailed fist causing Valten to drop his own weapons. The two generals soon locked arms in a deadly, life-and-death grapple for dominants. Just as Valten began to best Grom with a display of astonishing strength, Grom rammed his helmed head into Valten’s mouth breaking the Herald’s teeth. With the weight of his vast bulk, Grom finally overpowered the Herald of Sigmar before pulling a rusty dirk from his belt and stabbing Valten in the stomach, twisting the blade to inflict maximum damage. Valten screamed and fell. The morale of the on looking Imperil troops broke.
Lifting the Herald of Sigmar’s body over his held, Grom roared in triumph as he threw the broken husk of Valten off the parapet at the incoming Imperial soldiers still scaling the wall. All of the men upon the eastern wall where Valten had faced the Paunch had lost their nerve, seeing their newly hailed champion fall had defeated their fragile moral, and the Goblins descended upon them like packs of ravenous wolves. All of the men inside the fortress were butchered and the remains of Valten’s army turned into a full route, leaving behind the mangled body of their would-be savor.
That night Grom called for a huge celebration feast. The Goblins feasted upon both man and ogre flesh. Grom sent his Goblin Guard to recover Valten’s body – for Grom wished to feast on his enemy’s heart – but Valten’s body could not be found…
NIGHTBORN MANOR
Erag Steelbelly, Slaughtermaster of the Leadguts, awoke in a foul mood. There was nothing unusual about this, for Erag always awoke with an exceptionally nasty disposition, though usually as a result of waking up hungry. Erag did not have his mind on food (for once!), however, for he had visions from the Great Maw – horrific, unappetizing creatures of the night were coming, and in vast numbers. A shadow of a huge Undead thing, a Giant of sorts, clouded his visions. And when Erag awoke he knew the rumours of the return of Nagash must be true. The Slaughtermaster shivered. Nearby Erag’s camp, was an ancient, decrepit manor like something that belonged in old Sylvania. The Ogres did not like the looks of this spooky manor and had kept their distance.
As the Ogres prepared for their first meal of the day, they heard low moans and soon horrible, loud wails, which came from the direction of the haunted manor. Slowly Undead creatures began rustling through the foliage, the first Zombie that appear walked directly at a mob of Ogres eating breakfast (roast Umberduck), who was quickly ripped apart by the angry Ogres, vexed by the creature’s interruption of meal time. More Zombies followed, first only one, then two more, then a mob of five emerged from the woods. Within moments a huge horde of Zombies, hundreds of the walking dead, slowly shambled forwards. This caught the Ogres attention and Erag quickly mustered his Ogre brutes into a fighting formation. A cloud of black smoke appear in front of the Undead Legion, and the form of a cloaked figure stood, defiantly before them – Garak Craine, the Grave Master of Bechaheim, a petty Necromancer who had thrown his lot in with Goreblade Skulltaker.
‘Nightborn Manor is mine!’ Shouted the wicked Grave Master. ‘You think your flesh and bones belong to you? Ha! The Great Necromancer has returned.’ Craine’s voice rose as he uttered each syllable. ‘We all belong to HIM!’
With a deafening crack, black lightning jutted out of the Necromancer’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth in wild arcs headed at the battle-mustering Ogres. With a booming clap of his hands, Erag thwarted the evil spell; dispelling dark energies a moment before the lightning had stuck his Ogres. Garak Craine gave Erag a nasty look and disappeared in another cloud of darkness. The Undead Legions surged forwards.
Erag’s Ironguts, the Bone Breakers, lived up to their namesake, slamming into a horde of Skeleton Warriors, the Bone Breakers smashed apart every Skeleton in their path, snapping bones with every throw of their meaty ironfists. Meanwhile a huge horde of Ogres known as the Pain Bringers launched themselves into the center of the Zombie hordes. Again the fragile frames of the Undead were no match to the power of vast Ogre bulk! As Garak Craine saw his army melting around him, ancient spirits borne of Nightborn Manor came forth attacking both Undead and Ogre alike. The Necromancer screamed in terror, for he did not understand what was happening around him. Had the he offended the Great Necromancer?
It was then when an armoured force of Morghast Harbingers appeared wearing ebon-wrought armour in the style of Nagash himself and wielded huge, wicked halberds that glowed with an eerie green light. The giant, Undead constructs glided into the flank of the Mournfang Cavalry upon wings of bone. While the Ogres riders tried to turn and face their new enemy, the Harbingers made sort work of the Ogre cavalry hacking them about with their enchanted blades.
As the rest of the Leadguts pulverized the Undead Legion, Erag felt a tremor with the Winds of Magic. Something tangible that he almost felt he could reach out and snatch with his own mind was present. And so the Slaughtermaster did and found himself in a struggle of wills between himself and the so-call Grave Master of Bechaheim. Just when Craine seemed to overpower him though, Erag’s will, fueled by his devotion to the Great Maw, surged forth breaking the Grave Master’s hold. Craine screamed, his presence escaping the field. Erag reached out further with his will, supported by the ritual magic of his god and syphoning the dark magic that festered the land. Erag Steelbelly took control of the Morghasts; he was able to move them about like puppets and soon used his new pets to turn upon the remaining Undead hordes.
The Ogres had triumphed, but more importantly Erag discovered – the world was changing…
GRUDGE STRIKING
King Rodin was under siege. Tidings of his kin in the Worlds Edge Mountains had been worse than ever before. The Karaz Ankor, the Dwarf Empire, was besieged on all fronts by tides of Skaven and Goblins. Karak Azul had apparently already fallen and the Dwarf Kings called for aid. Rodin, however, was unable to respond, for he had problems and enemies of his own to deal with. The Hordes of Archaon Everchosen relentless pushed forth from the south, and the Grudgestrikers had held them back for nearly two years. Yet, the lands held by his clan seemed to shrink with each passing day. Although a major threat to his realm, and the entire world for that matter, Archaon’s hordes were also an annoyance to the Dwarf King. For King Rodin wished to exact his revenge upon his ancient Goblinoid foes. Slaying the beast, Grom, and scattering his Goblins would finish the work the Dwarf King had started with the vanquishing of Morhog. Rodin had beset multiple armies to break the Great Wall of Gork that stretched across the Badlands, but those forces were too few and had failed. His main throng needed to deal with the ceaseless invasion of Archaon’s forces, which continued to close around the Grudgestriker’s dwindling realm.
With everything going wrong for his kin, there was at least one name Rodin could finally strike from his hold’s Book of Grudges – Morhog Da Mighty. Both Morhog and Grom have a suffered a major defeat at the Battle of the Mud Flats, their armies all but annihilated. While Grom the Paunch had escaped and recovered, there was nothing to be heard from of Morhog or any of his Orcs. The last Rodin saw of Morhog had been the Black Orc fleeing hastily back to his mountain fortress, with a pack of sabretusks hot on his heels unleashed by his Ogre ally Erag Steelbelly. Since the Mud Flats, Morhog’s forces had not been sited anywhere, not in the mountains nor in the Badlands. His house guard had slaughtered the Black Orc Warlord’s abominable Chaos Dwarf vassals and his lowly Orcs had been scattered. Grom’s demise would soon follow that of Morhog’s.
When Rodin’s rangers returned with reports of Archaon’s armies, they reported that the vile Troll King, Throgg, had stormed the local brewery where the gruesome beast and his Chaos Trolls had drunken all the ale, eaten the Dwarf Alemaster and burned the entire brewery to the ground. The Dwarf King flew into a great rage hearing the atrocities of the notorious Troll. He mustered his army and called for the, rebuilt, special weapon of the engineering guild. If the Trolls liked beer, the king declared, then beer they shall have – for the legendary Beer Tank had finally been restored and renamed by Rodin himself: ‘Morhog’s Drunger’, or ‘the Vanquisher of Morhog’ in the tongue of Man.
With a boom the Dwarf Cannon, Old Faithful, sounded the start of the battle as a massive Chaos Chariot pulled by some freakish beast was smashed asunder, followed by a hails of crossbow bolts. Despite the Dwarf firepower, the Chaos army closed quickly with Throgg himself leading a bloated brood of Chaos Trolls rampaging forwards to engage Rodin’s Throng. The Dwarfs arrayed in an impregnable shield wall, bracing as the voracious Chaos Trolls smashed into their closed formation. Despite the brute strength of the Chaos Trolls and their corrosive vomit, the shield wall held. The furious Dwarf warriors retaliated back, chopping off sinuous Troll limbs and decapitating heads with their great axes and hammers. The Trolls melted away before the relentless foe-hammering wrath of the Dwarfs. Soon Throgg found himself fighting alone and the Troll King shrugged before fleeing the field rather than face the army of angry Dwarfs singlehandedly. Rodin vowed that retreat would not save the fiend, it only delayed the Troll King’s inevitable fate: death by King Rodin’s hand.
At short time after Throgg’s defeat, the Beer Tank exploded in a hail of foam and metal during a routine maintenance by Grudgestriker Engineers. The horrible incident, which not only saw the destruction of the recently repaired tank, but also the death of several engineers, was, at first, blamed on the claims that the engineers had all been intoxicated with Bugman’s Best. After a closer investigation, however, evidence was found that it was, in fact, sabotage, possibly by agents of the dishonorable Troll King himself. King Rodin immediately sent a massive bounty upon Throgg’s head – wanted: dead or alive!
ALL THE EMPEROR’S MEN
While Grom celebrated his triumph at Fort Maw-Tooth, his chief Shaman, Gitgog Da Spider-King, launched his own invasion, turning his attention to the Moot. The poor domain of the Halflings had suffered immensely throughout the duration of the ongoing war. At one point, the Halflings even declared succession from the Empire, after seeming caught in the center of a continuous conflict between the Empire and the Chaos Lord, Goreblade Skulltaker. Their homes were burned and razed, their fields trampled and their simple lives in Hobbit-town turned to strife and suffering. This briefly changed for a time when an agent of Chaos, Sigvald the Magnificent, had seduced the Halflings by promising to rebuild their homes and provide them with security and safety. Though Sigvald was true in his promises, he also had enslaved the diminutive Halflings to do his evil bidding. A grand alliance of Men and Dwarfs finally liberated the Moot, though Sigvald escaped. Now the forces of Waaagh-Grom!, which had slowly surged from the southern Badlands, had assembled before the city gates.
Having been counseled of the depredations of the war upon his recovery, the Emperor Karl Franz atop the massive Imperial Dragon, Braxydis, had immediately flown to defend the Halfling domain, for the Emperor knew the Forces of Destruction would soon assault the walls of the Moot once more, and its fall would only spell doom for the rest of the realm. Preparing for foes from any and all realms, the Emperor rallied the Imperial garrison Reiksmarshal Arno had stationed after recapturing the city from the servants of Chaos. The Elder of the Moot, William Plumpkin, called for the Pancake Militia and a dozen Hot Pots to support the soldiers and artillery of the Empire. Seeing their Emperor atop the Imperial Dragon, the soldiers of the Empire felt invincible. Rabble such as Goblins would be no match for them. The confidence of Men became shaken, however, upon hearing the brass war drums and braying horns of Chaos. The Daemon Prince Goreblade Skulltaker led his Khornate legions and Undead allies from the east, to once again claim the Moot. Two great enemies now surrounded the city, with the Goblins attacking from the south and the forces of Chaos attacking from the east.
The siege commenced with the sound of thunder as the black powder weapons of the Empire unleashed hails of lead bullets, shrapnel and cannon balls at their multiple foes. Several war engines of the enemy were blasted asunder as the warriors of Chaos and Goblins surged for the city walls. Gitgog da Spider-King, atop his massive spider – Da Great Gog – unleashed a massive wave of pure Waaagh! energy that flooded the battlefield, invigorating the Goblin horde. At the same moment, however, the Great Shaman lost his footing atop the howdah upon the Arachnarok’s abdomen, hitting his head against the wooden platform and collapsing, unconscious, upon the howdah. Da Spider King would not awaken until the aftermath of the battle, the Da Great Gog, however, continued to scutter towards the castle walls.
Cackling Night Goblins prodded forth vicious Cave Squigs, squinting and vexed by the light of the sun. Deploying ramps upon the south tower, the antagonized Squigs waddled up the crude platforms, snapping and biting at the Imperial crossbowmen holding the tower. The Giants, Drex the Destroyer and Ol’ One Eyes advanced upon the western wall and suffered hails of crossbow bolts that slowed their advanced and stung their massive forms. At the eastern wall, a Chaos Hell Cannon had breached the wall’s foundation as Goreblade Skulltaker’s Chaos Warriors marched alongside the Undead legions of Snyder Geldwyck, a potent Necromancer enthralled by Goreblade – or so the Daemon believed – and a huge squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne marched in reserve at the rear of Goreblade’s army, ready to charge in at Goreblade’s behest towards any enemy that might emerge from the castle of appear to threaten the chaotic host.
Since the return of Nagash, the Old World had been saturated with Dark Magic so potent that the dead began to stir all across the globe, rising once again, but without the aid of a Necromancer. As a result, Undead vagabonds now aimlessly marched across the Old World. At the height of the siege, several monstrous Undead creatures stumbled upon the killing grounds along the city walls – either by mere coincidence or drawn by the sounds and smells of battle. Winged Morghasts and blood-sucking Vargheists entered the fray. Wizards from all sides soon began to bend their own magics in order to take control of the Undead things. The Night Goblin Shaman Madbad Zapzag took control of a pair of Morghasts sending them flying atop of eastern wall of the Moot. They easily tore through the Men of the Empire with their huge, cursed blades. Madbad snickered with delight. As them men fled, the Necromancer Snyder Geldwyck struck back with his own Undead monsters – a trio of Vargheists, sending them charging into Madbad’s Morghasts atop of the city ramparts. The bloodthirsty Vargheists, overcome by their blood lust instincts, tore wildly into the bloodless bone carapaces of the Morghasts, but the unnatural armour of the Morghasts held and their potent blades soon dispatched the grotesque vampire-things. Outside the walls, Goreblade’s Skullcrushers grew impatient as they waited to charge anything that might flee the city.
As Ol’ One Eye ponded the western wall with a massive slab of stone, Karl Franz ushered Braxydis forwards over the city walls and crashing into the one-eyed Giant. With a single swing from Ghal Maraz, the ancient war hammer of Sigmar, the huge brute was sent crashing to the ground. Now outside the fortress, Karl Franz and his scaly mount stood before the sea of Goblins attempting to scale the city walls with their ramshackle ladders. Suddenly, Da Great Gog, leapt at the Emperor and the Dragon reeled backwards. Throwing all his strength into a single, mighty blow, the Emperor swung the Hammer of Sigmar in deadly arc, directly at the huge spider’s cephalothorax…
…He poured the sorcerer’s blood into a vast cauldron and dropped the three mutated skulls of the Great Chimera, Cyroarbris, into the gore-filled pot – the final ingredients of the ritual. Immediately, an image appeared on the surface of the bloody contents. It was the Emperor, Karl Franz, atop his pet Dragon embattled with an enormous, purple spider. As the Emperor in the image swung back his war hammer, a vial of the Emperor’s own blood was tossed into the cauldron…
…Suddenly a sharp pain struck the Emperor from within and his hammer missed the spider’s cephalothorax, instead striking one of its forelegs, rending the arachnoid leg useless. Da Great Gog surged upwards in anguish from the gaping leg wound before plunging its hind stinger into the Emperor’s chest. The Emperor immediately fell into a violent spasm as the potent venom surged through his body. With a terrible roar Braxydis battered the spider back with a sweep of its mighty claws before launching itself into the air, carrying the Emperor’s convulsing body to safety, and away from the battle at the Moot.
Seeing the great Imperial Dragon, with their fallen leader, fly away; the moral of the Men broke. The Goblins were swarming the city ramparts; the Imperial soldiers were outnumbered and undermanned. In a final attempt to take the city, Goreblade flew into the courtyard slaying Man, Halfling and Goblin alike. A crude Goblin artillery piece launched a mortar shell upon the crazy Daemon Prince, by some sheer coincidence or uncanny goblin luck; Goreblade was struck directly on its head. The Daemon seemed to dematerialize, but just as it began to fade from the material plane, there was a bright, orange flash, and the Daemon’s body was restored. With his army in tatters though, Goreblade was forced to retreat, leaving the Moot to the Goblins.
When Grom heard of this great victory, he immediately forced marched to the Moot seated atop a palanquin carried aloft by his Stone Trolls. When Grom entered the conquered city his Goblins celebrated his coming. That evening while feasting on roast Halfling and chewing upon the heart of William Plumpkin, Grom made an infamous proclamation:
‘Let dem tell da ‘Umperor dat da Moot belongs to da Gobbos, da Moot belongs to GROM, da Moot iz Green!’
THE HERALD OF THE THREE-EYED KING
Archaon sent forth his Herald, Vardek Crom, the Conqueror, and Harbinger of the End Times, to establish a foot hole within Dwarf-held territory. With the aid of potent slave-daemons and ancient magicks, Crom was to erect a stronghold that would directly threaten the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr. And so Vardek Crom did as his master instructed, a fortress of black iron was magically constructed within mere leagues of the Dwarf capital.
Within hours, two mighty armies of the Dwarf empire merged into a single, huge throng and marched upon the blasphemous chaotic fortress. The iron citadel was a blemish upon Dwarf lands, an insult to the Grudgestriker clan and their Ancestor Gods. This throng was unconventionally led by a Fizban, an atypical Dwarf of sorts, a Gnome to be precious, and a potent trickster-mage in his own right, hence his nickname – the Wondrous Wizard. Fizban had been a mere fable and legendary figure of ancient Dwarf lore, and the Wondrous Wizard had apparently returned from the folksongs of old to defend his kin in these dark times. The Dwarfs were suspicious of the Gnome, for the Dwarfs did not trust any sorcerer, but King Rodin had entrusted the command of the Dwarf Throng to Fizban and so his commands would be followed. The Dwarf didn’t have to like it though, and their was much grumbling amongst the ranks, especially from the Longbeards, regarding this strange newcomer.
Uninterested in hiding behind iron walls, Crom the Conqueror had ordered his army to assemble before the newly built stronghold, the Warriors of Chaos would meet the Dwarf Throng in open battle, for Vardek was a pillager, a Conqueror, he would not wait for the enemy atop a castle parapet. Crom had led the Everchosen’s forces from the Northern Wastes into Kislev where his Warriors, alongside the Khorne Champion Goreblade Skulltaker, had brought the old allied kingdom of the Empire to ruin. The Kislevites would not surrender nor flee, and so, the Hordes of Chaos slaughtered every man, women and child. The Tzarina, Katarin, hailed as the Ice Queen of Kislev, however, had managed to escape with her royal Ice Guard. And so the razing of Kislev was a failure in the eyes of the Three Eyed King. The Ice Queen had escaped and that failure rested upon Vardek Crom, who in turn had blamed the debacle upon Goreblade. After entering the huge vortex that temporally placed the armies of the Everchosen in the south, a plan to take the Empire from an unexpected quarter, the Herald of Archaon longed to regain favour with the exalted Everchosen of Chaos. Destroying this huge army of Dwarfs sent to oppose him, would certainly gain Archaon’s boon.
As an incentive to inspire the Chaos Horde, a massive Warshrine of Chaos, dedicated to Archaon, the Three Eyed King himself shadowed the warriors arrayed across the battlefield. Its presence was such that Crom and his followers believed the gaze of the Everchosen were upon them – which meant they could not fail in their task to slaughter the Dwarfs warriors opposing them. With desire to prove his worth to his master, Vardek Crom immediately and recklessly led the charge of his warriors into the Dwarf formations assembled before him. A warrior with few equals, Crom battered through the Dwarf shield wall, crushing enemies aside with brute force, decapitating helmed heads and gutting the warrior-elites of the Dwarfs. Crom became a whirlwind of blades, as his massive axe sliced off limbs to his right; while on his left, his massive sword plunged into the chests of both brown and grey beards alike. Crom’s warriors were just as crazed and skilled as their lord, as they continued battering Dwarf warriors in the wake of Crom’s onslaught.
The Dwarfs were begrudgingly being pushed back, when Fizban conceived a wily ruse. Calling upon his trickster-like magicks, Fizban cast a potent spell upon the Warshrine of Archaon. Within moments, the effigy in the likeness of Archaon, roared to life, blazing with an aura of magical flames, and the booming commands of the Everchosen himself resonated across the battlefield.
‘CROM!’ Boomed the Everchosen’s voice. ‘YOU HAVE FAILED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!’
Vardek Crom and all his warriors came to a confusing halt. How was he failing? He and his warriors were slaughtering Dwarfs by the dozens. How was this failure? Why was the Everchosen here? The illusion of the fiery Everchosen suddenly dissipated and the Warshrine returned to its normal, unanimated state, but the brief confusion it had caused amongst the Warriors of Chaos was all the time the Dwarfs needed. It was now the veteran Dwarf warriors turn to show the servants of Chaos what slaughter was. Relentlessly and brimming with hatred the Dwarfs hacked away at the stymied Chaos Warriors. The warriors soon broke before the ferocious Dwarf assault and would not stop despite Crom’s bestial commands for them to stand and fight. The Dwarfs had achieved victory thanks to Fizban’s magicks and the Herald of the Everchosen was forced into retreat.
No sooner had the Dwarfs defeated Crom, than they realized Crom’s attack was a mere feint, for the combined legions of all of Archaon’s banners had assembled at the edge of the Dwarf realm. The Dwarfs could not face such a terrible legion without preparation and so the Runesmith, Loki Magik-Dimmer, volunteered to lead an army of Dwarf warriors in a delaying action. Loki and his Dwarfs knew that victory could not be achieved against such a enormous force and that few, if any of them, would live to tell the tale, even so, the Dwarfs march forth to greet the Lord of the End Times without complaint, for they were eager to settle old scores.
King Rodin called for the rest of his banners to unite, and did not expect to see Loki again…
THE RETURN OF NAGASH
Shortly after Grom had departed the Maw-Tooth, the fortress garrison was once again under siege. Not by Man, Ogre or Dwarf, however. The Goblins were the first to witness that which most of the world believed to be only rumours – the return of the Great Necromancer, Nagash the Undying, who had indeed returned. The Goblins were cowed as the massive form of Nagash advanced upon the fortress gates. The form of a seemingly giant Skeleton encased in a suit of wicked and ancient, black armour, glided across the ground with the spirits of the dead whirling about him. His eyes glowed with a malevolent green light and with but a mere word, the Great Necromancer slew the garrison commander and raised all the slain Imperial soldiers, who had been slaughtered by the Goblins, to do his evil bidding.
As Nagash’s Undead Legions assaulted the fortress walls, a small siege force of Grudgestriker Dwarfs led by Erik Wildstrider set upon the northern wall of the Maw-Tooth. The Dwarfs quickly deployed their arsenal of siege engines and begun a bombardment upon the Goblin gates. Stonetop’s Eight Pounder and the grudge thrower, Helga, bombarded the walls of the Maw-Tooth. Yet the walls held – the Ogres had learned the skill of fortress construction from the Sky Titans of Old, which the Goblins now benefitted from. The Goblins retaliated by launching crazed Doom Divers at the Dwarf artillery.
Grom had left part of his own Troll Guard behind as part of the Maw-Tooth garrison and Da Rock Eaters proved invaluable for they did not fear the Skeleton Warriors scaling the walls – they bashed and broke the bone-like Men like rocks upon sticks. The Dwarfs decided to withdraw, for there was nothing to gain. If they captured the fortress Nagash would soon turn his attention upon them and the Dwarfs simply did not have the numbers to deal with both Goblinoid and Undead.
Having only recently been resurrected, Nagash was not at his full power for something about the world had changed since he last tread upon this plane. His mastery over his necromancy was not complete and the Great Necromancer was unable to bring his full magical might to bear against the Goblins. The Great Necromancers retreated uttering foul curses upon the Goblins and swore that they would all die…
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE
A KING NO MORE
The Dwarf Empire was falling. Attacks by Skaven and Goblins had caused the destruction of several of the last Dwarf Holds. Karak Azul and Karak Eight Peaks had both fallen, their kings slain and people scattered. So too, had Karak Kardin fallen, the infamously known ‘Slayer Keep,’ where its former Slayer-King Ungrim Ironfist had always been the right axe-blade of the Karaz Ankor. Ungrim was king no longer. For his hold, too, has been overrun by foul ratmen. Though his kingdom destroyed and people slain (or captured), Ungrim yet lived. His oath as a king was no longer relevant, now only his oath as a slayer mattered to the old Daemonslayer and before his life was finished he would exact vengeance upon the enemies of all Dwarf-kind.
Recently, Ungrim has become possessed with an unnatural power. Ungrim believes this force that has empowered him to be that of his Ancestor God Grungi, but in truth, it is the magical wind Asysh, the Wind of Fire, broken free from the vortex on once-Ulthaun, has chosen Ungrim as its host. The truth of his newfound powers means little to Ungrim, for he seeks his ultimate doom. Hearing of the struggles of King Rodin and his clan, one of the last, true kings of the Dwarf Empire, Ungrim, along with his remaining Slayers of Karak Kardin, have embarked on a journey to Barak Varr in order to help Rodin defeat all their common foes.
MARCH OF THE DEAD
The dark tidings of Nagash’s return to the world of the living had reached every realm, and it shook their realties with terror, for surely, the world must be dying.
While realms of mortals rebuilt and reorganized from their fortified strongholds, readying their armies for the harsh winter to pass, the Great Necromancer commanded his legions to march. The warriors of the dead did not complain, did not hunger, and cared not for the freezing cold of the winter season. Several fortresses through the Badlands and Old World were assaulted and taken by the Undead or razed to the ground completely, for a mere season would not stymy the plans of Nagash the Great. While his enemies sealed themselves in their fortresses the Undead stalked world…
OGRES ON THE MARCH
The Undead, however, were not the only creatures stirring during the winter, Greasus Goldtooth, Overtyrant of the Ogre Kingdoms, forced marched from the Mountains of Mourn all the way to the Old World. Word had reached the obese Overtyrant of the continuous failures of Tharthrog and the Leadguts. This was something, Greasus decided, that needed to be rectified at once. One ominous night towards the end of winter, Greasus arrived at the Khorne capital of Slaughterloo. Mysteriously, Goreblade Skulltaker was nowhere to be found; only a skeleton garrison seemed to secure the fortress. With an army made of entirely Ironguts, the strapping and beefy war-veterans of the Ogre Kingdoms, the Overtyrant stormed the chaotic city, capturing the fortress in a single night. After a feast that last for three weeks, Greasus finally summoned Tharthrog and his ogres to the Overtyrant’s new capital, to plan the overthrow of these, puny lands of the West…
THE WEIGHT OF THE CROWN
At the Imperial Palace of Talabheim, grief and fear consumed the city. Not because of the numerous enemies that would see them all drown in blood and fire, but because their finest heroes and champions of light both lay at deaths door. The newly emerged Champion of the Empire and ‘Herald of Sigmar’, as the commoners took to calling him, had suffered a fatal wound during a confrontation with the Goblin King Grom. Valten would have surely died if not for the timely arrival of the Supreme Patriarch, Balthasar Gelt, who recovered the Herald of Sigmar’s body and atop his Pegasus, Pandora, delivered the unconscious Valten to Talabheim in hopes that his life could be saved. Worse still, the recently recovered Emperor had suffered a terrible wound at the Battle of the Moot, he only stilled lived, though barely clinging to life, because of the heroic actions of the Imperial Dragon, Braxydis, who the Emperor rode into battle. Braxydis, who was gravely wounded himself, had been able to carry the Emperor all the way to the city of Talabheim, saving Karl Franz’s life. The priestess of Shallya had tended to the heroes for days, but their skills and prayers could only barely sustain them. Karl Franz could die at any moment.
As the city prepared the burial arrangements, Balthasar Gelt, approached the, now, Stewart of the Throne, Castellan of Altdorf, Lord-Commander of Talabecland and Reiksmarshal of the Empire – Maximilian Arno with an outlandish idea. Gelt claimed, using an ancient spell, known only in the annuals of his Order’s ancient tomes of magics, he might be able to save one of the two heroes of the Empire. Using the remaining life-force of one, mended and transmuted by Gold magic, the other’s life force could be reinforced and, possibly, make a full recovery. It was the only way that one of them could survive. One would die so that the other might live or else, both Karl Franz and Valten would both expire. With little hesitation, the Reiksmarshal agreed to Gelt’s plan, though Arno did not like such questionable methods, he knew Gelt’s ancient lore was the only remedy to the heroes’ fatal wounds.
Pleased with himself and eager to attempt his experiment, Gelt bowed deeply to the Stewart-Regent, before spinning on his left heel and swiftly moved towards the throne room’s exit. Arch Lector Sebastian Gunther, called for the Supreme Patriarch to halt, for the question of which hero would live and which would die needed to be addressed – it would not be determined solely by Gelt, Gunther declared. Immediately, the Emperor’s Justice, Ludwig Schwarzhelm, protested the very question. For in his eyes there was no question – the Emperor would be healed not some ‘Sigmar pretender.’ Any other thought was blasphemy. Gelt, argued, however, that the Emperor had been ill, unnaturally ill, and if they saved the Emperor with the life force of Valten, Karl Franz might continue to suffer from his ailment. Schwarzhelm became furious at Gelt’s notion, calling Gelt an agent of the enemy, but the wizard would not be gainsaid. Gelt continued on how the Emperor’s sickness might doom them all, while Valten was healthy, youthful and, perhaps, Sigmar reborn! The Justice was about to draw his sword during his tirade directed at the Supreme Patriarch, when Arno grasped the Justice’s hand and bade him silence with but a look.
The Lord-Commander asserted that Gelt and Schwarzhelm both made good points. As Stewart of the Imperial Throne, Arno declared that he would call for a vote – a decision by all the Elector Counts, as was Imperial law and tradition. The courts claimed that it would be impossible, however, given the current predicament of the Empire – the Grand Theogonist had gone missing – possibly captured by the vampire Mannfred Von Carstein, the count of Averland and Hochland were both reported dead, William Plumpkin, the Halfling Elder of the Moot was now in the clutches of the Goblins and rumoured to have been eaten by Grom himself, and the counts’ that were alive and unmolested were locked in warfare of their own.
Both the Emperor and Valten could be dead at any moment, Gelt needed to get to work immediately if he was to save one of Champions of Light. The Supreme Patriarch, the Arch Lector and the Emperor’s Justice, each a high official within the Empire themselves, decided that it should be Arno as Reiksmarshal of the Empire and Stewart-Regent of the Throne to make the final decision. The burden of that decision would forever weigh heavy upon the Lord-Commander, but Maximilian Arno knew it was his responsibility and with the authority of his position that he must be the one to decide his Emperor’s fate, even if he would rather not. Time was not a luxury the Reiksmarshal had, for he would have liked to at least have one nights rest before making the decision. Alas, he could have no such option. Arno ordered the throne room clear, of everyone. The court would reconvene in one hour to hear the Stewart’s decision.
When the bell tolled on the hour, the court assembled before the Regent. Arno was a man of few words, the decision was his to make and he decided that he would give no explanations of his decision, for his people should already know that his decisions were always in the best interests of the Empire. And so, as the court audience gathered before him hushed in silence, the Reiksmarshal declared his decision with a single word: ‘Valten’. Karl Franz would die so that the Herald of Sigmar might live.
With a furious shriek, Ludwig Schwarzhelm, the Emperor’s Justice and friend of old, drew his magical blade and charged at the Reiksmarshal.
‘Blasphemer!’ Schwarzhelm shouted. ‘Kinslayer! Emperor-slayer! Oathbreaker! Liar! Fiend! Usurper! Pawn of the Dark Gods!’ Arno drew his blade and parried just as Schwarzhelm’s sword reached his neck. Using all of his strength, Arno shoved the Justice back with his blade, sending the Emperor’s bodyguard reeling to the ground.
‘I don’t want to fight you, old friend. Stand down.’ Commanded the Stewart-Regent.
‘Traitor! Deceiver!’ Schwarzhelm continued his tirade of insults. ‘By Sigmar, I shall strike you down in the name of his royal majesty, the one, true Emperor – Karl Franz!’
And so, perhaps, the two finest swordsmen in the Empire dueled in a contest not fought inside an Imperial Palace since the time of the Three Emperors. With each strike came a parry or riposte, with each sweep of their blades, neither man could hit their target. The court watched on, in astonished bedazzlement. Finally, the older of the two, Schwarzhelm, feel to his knees in exhaustion. With his blade point at the Justice’s neck, Arno pleaded with Ludwig to surrender and join him, for darker days were coming and Arno needed him. Arno needed all the heroes of the Empire.
‘I do not follow usurpers and traitors,’ Ludwig spat as he began to lunge up at Arno, blade in hand. With a flick of his wrist, Arno cut the Justice’s throat. Red gore sprayed out of the gaping neck wound as Schwarzhelm clutched at his neck with both of his gauntleted hands. His eyes stared up at the Reiksmarshal and his mouth hung open as if attempting to speak. Although the Justice could only gasp and gurgle before he slumped to the floor, dead, Arno heard the Justice’s voice ringing in his head: ‘Blasphemer! Kinslayer! Emperor-slayer! Oathbreaker! Liar! Fiend! Usurper! Traitor! Deceiver! Pawn of the Dark Gods!’
Behind his golden veil, Balthasar Gelt smiled.
The world was dying, though nobody knew it…
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR III – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (March & August 2015)
DARK TIDINGS RISING
As the harsh ice of the winter melted away, a fleet of deadly Elven vessels assaulted the Old World in a series of swift and bloody strikes. The Dreadlord Dukillion, ambassador of the Witch King of Naggaroth, had coordinated an array of raids, striking fear across the continent. In the far north, a Dark Elf Black Ark penetrated the Sea of Chaos and struck the Feeding Grounds of the Ogre Overtyrant Greasus Goldtooth. In the south, the Goblin Mines of Goria, were swiftly taken by the Elves. And at the edge of the forest of Athel Loren, where the mysterious Woodland Elves have apparently vanish without a trace, seemingly replaced with their wicked cousins, the Dwarf army of Erik Wildstrider was scattered. Rumor had reached the Old World that the civil war between the various factions of Elves had come to an end, though their state of politics still remained unclear. Whatever had transpired on far Ulthuan, these raiders seemed vicious and hostile enough – the Elves had not come in peace.
THE GOBLIN INVASION TALABECLAND
The world was his. He need only reach out and seize it with his great green hands. Grom’s campaign of destruction had been glorious, he had conquered lands with greater zeal than the best Orc, he had raised the mighty Great Wall of Gork, he had shattered countless armies and bested one of the greatest heroes of the age in single combat – Valten, the so-called Herald of Sigmar. And Goblinoids of all kinds still flocked to his banner, further bolstering his ever-expanding Waaagh!
‘Da ‘ummies’ are weak. Dey reek of fear. Dere shiny cities will fall. So begins da Age of da Goblin…da Age of Grom!’ Grom promised his horde that the capital of the manlings would be theirs, and the horde believed him. Talabheim, as the ‘ummies called it, would be the capital of Grom’s new realm – just as Mork and Gork had foretold.
Launching his forces from the gates of the captured Moot, Grom strode at the fore of his armies marching into Imperial lands mounted upon his ancient, scaly pet – Doomserpent. The ferocious wyrm had once been the steed of his chief shaman, Blacktooth, until the old shaman was slain on the Elven isle of Ulthuan. Grom and his armies were defeated and scattered, though Grom was able to escape all the way back to the Old World atop Doomserpent, and ever since the Wyvern and Grom had found a kindred spirit within each other. Grom had declared he would not rest until he feasted upon the heart of Valten, who’s body had mysterious vanished after Grom had thrown the warrior’s corpse over the parapet of the Maw-Tooth after besting the his foe in combat.
The jaws of Grom’s invasion had been set. The Forest Goblin Shaman, Gitgog, and his army of greenskins had been sent further north with instructions to rendezvous with Grom’s horde at the gates Talabheim, while the main Army of Grom took a more direct route to the capital using the Old Imperial Road.
As Grom marched towards the city, he was met by a vast army of Men led by the villainous Imperial Captain, Barnabas Schein. Schien was greatly outnumbered for hundreds of Gnoblars, who were abandoned by the Ogres at the first Siege of the Maw-Tooth, had joined forces with their Goblin cousins. A massive unruly horde of Gnoblars surged forwards ahead of the larger Goblins, quickly engaging the Imperial infantry. Though the Gnoblars died in droves their numbers were so great that their casualties were of no concern to anyone, even the other Gnoblars (of the ones still alive, anyway)! The sea of Gnoblars bogged down the discipline soldiers of the Empire, pinning down the Imperial shock troops.
Captain Schein, staying a safe distance from the frontlines, observed the battle unfold before him. His army was outnumbered and outmatched. He saw a horde of hungry Stone Trolls lumbering forwards, a battery of crude Goblin war engines and thousands of malevolent red eyes surging forwards. There was no escaping this threat, but when he saw the massive form of the infamous Goblin King, Grom himself, bawling orders from atop his scaly Wyvern, Schein new what he must do – cutoff the head of the serpent.
If Schien could defeat Grom, the Goblins would never continue to stand and fight, much less continue their march upon Talabheim. Schein would be hailed a hero, a true savior of the Empire. In fact with the recent news of both the Emperor’s and Valten’s demise, and the continuous blunders of the Reiksmarshal, such a heroic feat could ascend Schein to the Imperial Throne. Such an opportunity could not be passed and Schein knew his Dark God would forever favour him if he were to succeed. Though an inexperience general, for he had ever been cunning at avoiding open battle, Barnabas Schein was not incompetent. Calling for his reserve battalion to advance, Schien entered the fray.
The captain and his guard engaged the Goblins skewering goblinoids with the skilled precision of their halberds. Suddenly he heard a thunderous crash, followed by the clanging of shattering shields and the screams of dying Men. Schien turned to his left and saw the Wyvern Doomserpent, carrying his bloated master upon its back, crash into the spearmen on his flank. Schien grinned, spinning on his heel to face The Paunch, but a gang of Goblins blocked his path. Schein slashed left and right, his sword and armour covered with the dark gore of the greenskins. When that last Goblin that had barred his way was struck aside, the remains of the last spearmen was devoured within Doomserpent’s fang filled maw.
In an uncharacteristically heroic action, Schein charged the bloated Goblin King lounging upon his throne atop Doomserpent. Grom immediately recognized Schein as the enemy commander for no other man wore a larger feather upon their brow, but the puny Man’s courage amused the Goblin chieftain. Even so, Grom knew the weedy ‘’ummie’ was no match for the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Grom was looking for a real scrap – he had bested the Savior of the Empire and desired a scrap with the Emperor himself, not a prancing, peacocking phony like Schien!
‘Where’s da ‘Umperor? Where’s Vol-ten?’ Grom roared. The stench and sounds of heavy flatulence saturated the ozone like a thick miasma, Doomserpent hovered just above the ground coiling and hissing while seemingly oblivious of Grom’s reek. Schein grimaced in disgust as the stench struck all of his senses.
‘I have something much more interesting to show you than them, my Goblin King.’ Schien bowed deep in a mocking fashion, and still grinning, displayed a small, ornate box before the mighty Goblin Warboss. With a flick of the handle a soothing music emanated from Schien’s trinket. Grom cocked his head at the unusual sound and Doomserpent fell into a sedated-like trance.
After a moment, Grom’s eyes bulged wide, as a daemonic-like shadow enveloped Schien expanding into a creature of a stature that far surpassed both Grom and his wyvern. A huge claw struck out raking against Doomserpent’s scales, followed immediately by a second claw that seized Grom and snapped off the Paunch’s left arm at the shoulder.
Grom howled in pain, Doomserpent shrieked and immediate hovered backwards before turning and fleeing from Schien. The shadow-daemon began to pursue The Paunch, as Grom’s severed limb began to regrow anew.
Nearby, Gutbug, a Goblin Bully commanding the greenskins artillery, saw an opportunity to gain Grom’s favour. Gutbug, ordered a pair of Spear Chukkas to aim, and FIRE…
Schien could feel the favour of his Dark God as he pursued his foe, victory over the Goblins was his, as would soon be the Imperial Throne. Suddenly a huge, barbed bolt penetrated the shadow, and unexpectedly struck Schien. Fortunately for the captain, the hit was only glancing, but the blunt the blow sent him reeling to the ground. Schien’s precious speculum-box was sent whirling into the air and smashed into pieces upon the uncaring ground. The shadow-daemon dissipated and Schien was consumed by darkness.
Days later Captain Schien awoke within his army’s encampment and learned of his army’s defeat. Schien broke into a fit when he discovered he no longer was in possession of his prized box, created by the great Egrimm Van Horstmann and locked away in the volts of the Grand Theogonist, until stolen by Schien himself. For days, Schien interrogated his lieutenants about the whereabouts of his speculum, but all claimed to know nothing of any such device. Rumour had it that the captain had gone mad after his engagement with Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. If it were not for the routing of the Goblin King, Schien’s men would have surely mutinied – but where the Herald of Sigmar had failed in besting The Paunch, Schien had prevailed, for he had driven Grom the Paunch from the field of battle.
‘Don’t allow your petty desires for trinkets distract you from our true goals.’ Came the voice. Schien’s fury immediately dissipated. ‘This Goblin King and his rabble are nothing more than an inconvenience. You will sit upon the Imperial Throne and all our enemies will die. However, Slaanesh requires patience, my friend. For ultimate victory is bitterly hollow without the sweet taste of the game.’
VALTEN’S TRUIMPHANT RETURN
Da Spider-King, Gitgog Da Great, as the potent shaman had recently begun calling himself led the more mobile elements of the green horde round the main Imperial roads to Talabheim in attempt to avoid any major conflict and meet Grom at the Imperial capital. Though secretly, Gitgog planned to assault the Imperial capital before Grom’s army arrived, usurping the Goblin King’s authority thereby turning Grom’s inevitable victory into his own.
But when the renowned Huntsmarshal of the Empire, Markus Wulfhart, spied the villainous horde force-marching its way through the Forests of Shadows, the Huntsmarshal dispatched messenger hawks to the capital to warn the Reiksmarshal of the interloping Goblins. Upon hearing Wulfhart’s warning, Arno and the newly revived Valten marched a the fore of a huge Imperial host intent on vanquishing the Goblin threat once and for all.
Gitgog’s horde was no match for the Army of Reiksmarshal. Huge mobs of Wolf Riders were smashed aside by the heavy cavalry of the Empire. Demigryph Knights tossed aside entire squadrons of wolf-driven chariots with their potent claws. Gitgog was outmaneuvered and surrounded. Valten, now wielding Ghal Maraz, the mighty Hammer of Sigmar, smote Da Great Gog, Gitgog’s Arachnarok Spider with a single blow and the Spider-King himself, Grom’s chief-shaman, was captured.
The gnarly veteran-warboss, Gorgog Bonechewa, fled before the might of the Reiksmarshal, Valten and Imperial Parade Company. With their tails between their legs, the Wolf Riders retreated back to their master where Grom would hear of Gitgog’s failure and learn that his nemesis, Valten, was alive and well.
THE BATTLE OF THE OLD IMPERIAL ROAD
No sooner had Gorgog Bonechewa regrouped with Grom’s army marching further west into Talabecland, then the army of the Reiksmarshal, Maximilian Arno, met the main vanguard of Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain.
The Army of Grom, however, was not an army of mere Goblins. For it was a coalition of ruthless, mercenary Giants, huge brood-hordes of Stone Trolls, massive mobs of vicious, fang-filled Cave Squigs, batteries of rock lobbers and crazed Goblin Doom Diver Catapults, and Giant Hill Trolls not seen in the lands of Men for centuries. A huge idol in the likeness of Grom himself loomed over the entire horde. The Army of Grom was indeed the most vile collection of scum and villainy to penetrate so deep into Talabecland in decades.
The Army of the Reiksmarshal was a muster of warriors not seen assembled since the Third Battle of Black Fire Pass. The banners of the Knights Panther, the Jade Griffon legion, and standard of the Reiksmarshal were flown high and proud across the gleaming army of knights is glittering armour. Two of the eight Steam Tanks of the Empire accompanied the army of the Lord-Commander of Talabheim, ranks of spearmen and halberdiers marched in tight, discipline formations, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic – Balthasar Gelt – soared over the battlefield on his white Pegasus Pandora, and Valten, Herald of Sigmar, led the vanguard of Knights into the heart of Grom’s monstrous horde.
Cannon balls roared across the field and the great Idol of Grom toppled to the ground burying nearby Goblins in the rubble. Gorgog’s huge mob of Goblins Wolf Riders, attempting to outflank Arno’s forces, was suddenly struck by one of the mighty Imperial Steam Tanks at top speed, grinding and crushing the limbs of Wolves and Goblins, causing yelps and cries alike. The stench of burning, matted wolf fur saturated the battlefield.
While the Reiksmarshal remained with the reserves and commanded the army’s strategic advance, Valten led the Knights Panther into the heart of the monstrous horde. With each swing of Ghal Maraz, a Giant was toppled, a Troll was smashed asunder, or a Squig exploded in hail of messy inners. The Army of Grom was no match for Valten and the Hammer of Sigmar. But when Ghal Maraz struck the Great Giant Hill Troll, Grox, in the chest, the Giant Troll’s lifeless husk fell forward, into the columns of the Knights Panther. Several knights were crushed as the vast bulk of Giant Troll husk came crashing down upon them. Valten himself was thrown from his steed and pinned beneath the Giant Troll’s dead carcass. Though the Herald of Sigmar stilled lived, the moral of the Imperial soldiers faltered, for their invincible Savior was believed dead – for what man could survive being buried beneath the weigh of a slain Giant Troll?
As the Reiksmarshal gave the signal for the reserves to advance, a massive beast struck the Reiksguard Knights. Grom and Doomserpent had descended from the dark skies into the squadron of veteran knights. When The Paunch bellowed a challenge, the Reikscaptain, Lars Reinhold, heroically met the Goblin King before the Reiksmarshal could advance to accept the challenge from the end of the column of knights. Reinhold was easily defeated, his neck severed by Elf-Biter, but when the Reiksguard pressed their numbers upon Grom, The Paunch was forced back, and Doomserpent leapt into the air in retreat.
Balthasar Gelt swept across the battlefield using his mastery of magic to melt the weapons and armour of the foul Goblins. Burning chainmail seared the rubbery flesh of the Goblins as their rusty spears, swords, and axes melted into small pools of liquid iron. Fortunately for the Goblins, Wuzbog Spookblabba, a crazed Goblin Shaman, knew opportunity when he saw it. Seizing the Death Magic that had saturated the world with the return of the Great Necromancer, Wuzbog summoned a pair of giant, winged, skeletal creatures – Morghast Harbingers – and commanded them to destroy the Supreme Patriarch. Gelt was caught unawares as the Morghasts descended upon him, and atop Pandora, the Supreme Patriarch lured the Undead-like Daemons away from the rest of the Reiksmarshal’s army. Arno cursed Gelt as he spied the treacherous wizard retreat from the battlefield.
A sound like thunder struck the battlefield as Grom, having regained control of Doomserpent, charged one of the huge Steam Tanks of the Empire. The tank was toppled as the Wyvern slammed its vast bulk into the side of the tank breaking the iron behemoth with a mighty crash. The Paunch sliced through the tank’s plated-steel with Elf-Biter, like a hot knife through butter, and pulled the engine commander from the tank’s ruins. Grom ripped the man’s jaw from his face, and devoured the engineer’s tongue, before tossing the tank commander aside.
Though the Army of Grom had suffered great casualties, the Imperial army was in disarray. The Supreme Patriarch had fled the field, Valten was apparently dead (again), scores of knights had been slain, and one of the eight wondrous Steam Tanks of the Empire had been destroy by Grom himself. Arno was forced to withdraw, leaving the Goblins (what was left of them, anyway) triumphant!
The Goblins continued their march on Talabheim…
RENEWED OATHS OF VENGEANCE
King Rodin Grudgestriker was furious, not that it was unusual for a Dwarf King to be furious, for the enemies of the Dwarfs were legion. The Hordes of Chaos had ceaselessly attacked his strongholds, at the same time as the Grobi had invaded Dwarven domains and captured keeps along the border of the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr. The Grobi were never this bold, and something was certainly not right in the world. The Slayer King, possessed by some uncanny power, had brought Rodin word of the destruction of Karak Kadrin by the vile Ratmen of Chaos and such tidings had heralded despair even within the stout hearts of the Dwarfs.
The Grudgestriker swore oaths of vengeance upon the foul Skaven and all the enemies of the Dwarfs – the Grobi, the forces of Chaos, the Undead, and the treacherous Elgi who had dared attack his armies unprovoked. Rodin cared not of which Elf faction was truly responsible, after all, all Elgi were the same: arrogant, deceitful, and treacherous.
Erik Wildstrider was forced to abandon his post after a surprise attack by the Elves, and the King had considered shaving the tree-hugging Dwarf’s beard, just to make a point. Wildstrider had ever been unusual for a Dwarf, his connection and obsession with nature had caused many Dwarfs to mockingly name him ‘an Elgi in a Dawi’s body.’ But shaming Wildstrider by shaving his beard would be too harsh, for he had been surprised and outnumbered after all. The blame should fall upon the Elves, not Wildstrider, for in times as these, the King reckoned, he needed every Dwarf warrior he could muster. If not for the interference of the Elves, the Grudgestriker clan would have destroyed all their enemies. The Elgi would be dealt with in time. For all their tricks, The Grudgestriker promised, the Elgi would not escape retribution.
Despite Elven trickery, Rodin’s armies had managed to retake one of Grom’s fortresses bordering Barak Varr while at the same time fending off the armies of the Everchosen. The Dwarf army of Rumphle Runestriker and Ungrim Ironfist had been thwarted in their attempt to take the Maw-Tooth, still held by the Goblins. But it was King Rodin, The Grudgestriker himself, whose throng scoured the halls clean of Grobi-scum within the twin-fortress the Goblins had constructed. The King had brought along one of Grom’s lieutenants, Slagrot Spida-Eyes, who had been captured by the Dwarfs at the battle of the Mud Flats, to taunt the Goblins by parading Slagrot about, tied upon the Dwarf King’s own standard. When the last Grobi was slain by the Dwarfs, The Grudgestriker smote Slagrot himself, executing the Goblin chieftain in one clean sweep of his hammer.
The Grudgestriker swore great oaths of death to The Paunch, The Everchosen, and the Elves. The scouring of the Goblin keep was he beginning of the Dwarf King’s new declaration of retribution.
A GREAT ASSET
‘Sergeant, report. I am not pleased regarding this breach in security.’ Captain Schien’s face was veiled in shadow as he sat at his Drakwald-wood satin desk. The office was cloaked in night, only a single candle burned casting a eerie light upon Schien’s face, giving him a sinister, daemonic visage.
Sergeant Berthold had been in command of the Watch when Goblin raiders had struck the town of Bogenhafen in order to free the Goblin prisoners – Gitgog the Shaman and Gitilla the Hunter. The two goblinoids had been important lieutenants in the Goblin armies of Grom the Paunch and their capture was crucial for the Empire. Schien had commandeered the town of Bogenhafen in the name of the Emperor, and seized the town’s Tower of the Magistrate for his own base of operations regarding the military campaigns of the Empire.
‘Milord, the Goblins rode the backs of Giant Spiders to penetrate the parapet. The Watch valiantly slew all of the foul greenskin invaders and recaptured the shaman before he could escape. I have since doubled the Watch and ordered my men to increase patrols.’ Schien sat in silence listening to the sergeant’s debrief.
‘What of the wild goblin? The one that thinks he’s a Hobgoblin Khan?’ Schien queried.
‘According to my men, one of the Goblin raiders slew the goblin chief during their rescue attempt of the shaman.’ Schien’s face turned sour at the news of the dead prisoner. ‘As you know, Milord, the goblinoids rarely cease their constant infight–’ Schien silenced the sergeant with a wave of his hand.
‘Bring the shaman to me, before another prisoner dies in your custody Sergeant. My personal guard shall tend to the shaman,’ Schien commanded. ‘And see to it that no more enemies interrupt our operations here.’
‘Yes, Milord,’ Berthold gave a curt solute and left his captain in haste.
Within the bowels of the Tower of the Magistrate, Gitgog the Spider King was slain in another of Schien’s dark rituals. The potent shaman’s blood would finally allow Schien to summon an ally that would make his armies invincible. A ring of fire was ignited within a vast pit in the Tower’s dungeon. On a table covered with scrolls of dusty parchment and ancient books sat Schein’s collection of vials containing potent life-fluids of his enemies – the ichor of Cyroarbris the Great Chimera; the lifeblood of Vrokaw, one of the dreaded Twin Sorcerer Sons of Tzeentch; the poisonous gore of Gitgog the Spider King, and the Blood of Sigmar himself, the sanguine royal blood of Emperor Karl Franz. One by one, Schien took the vials of blood and cast them into the flames.
When the last vial was cast into the pit, the flames roared to life. The brim of the pit flared with a great conflagration of fire. A rush of scalding heat swept forth from the pit searing Schien’s face. The captain screamed as a wave of intense sweltering heat forced Schein from the dungeon. The stones of the pit illuminated red as the unnatural fire burned. A great roar like thunder vociferated from the dungeon pit, echoing throughout all of Bogenhafen. All who heard it shuddered with dread.
When the fires finally cooled, massive talons seized the top stones of the pit, and an archaic beast of titanic proportions heaved itself from its ancient prison. The great monstrosity, Kar’gornysh, was freed from its thousand-year-imprisonment and its enemies would soon face its horrible wrath…
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (March & November, 2016)
‘Your Majesty,’ called a rasping voice akin to the dry, ancient sands of Nehekhara. Before the king stood a withered creature clad in primordial rags of once-venerable royalty. It paused and gave a deep bow. ‘I bear dark tidings,’ the Liche Priest continued. ‘Interlopers have arrived from the ocean in the north, as well as from the east. The vaults of Mahrak have been plundered. Indeed, greed has summoned these crude trespassers.’
The pitch black, empty eye sockets of the Tomb King merely gazed back at his subject.
‘It is said the Great Usurper has risen in the east. His presence has caused a disturbance in the aether winds.’
The High King’s skeletal head, crowned with the golden headdress of ancient Lybaras, tilted to one side, as though the priest’s words had stirred distant memories in the archaic king.
‘What is your will, my King?’
‘Summon my army, priest.’
And so it was, High King Lakhashar, Tomb-Emperor of the Golden Sands, Lord of the Asaph, Breaker of Thaqil, Conqueror of Doom Glade, and Perpetual Ruler of Ancient Lybaras roused from his ever-slumber to march forth to war…
THE LAND OF THE DEAD
With the need of further resources and rumours of vast wealth hidden within the tombs of ancient Nehekhara, various kings and warlords sent armies to the Land of the Dead in order to fuel their war coffers. Armies of Dwarfs and Ogres, as well as the Blood Legions of Khorne, had traveled far to claim the riches of the desert.
Brand the Bloody-Handed, former lieutenant of Goreblade Skulltaker – Fallen Daemon Prince of Khorne, now led his own Chaos Host for the glory of the Blood God. After Goreblade’s defeat, Brand had returned to Norsca where he united the tribes dedicated to the worship of Khorne and raised a mighty fleet to plunder the lands of his enemies. The Red Fleet of the Bloody-Handed had pillaged the ports of Bretonnia and razed settlements along the coastlines of the Great Ocean before making landfall on the baking deserts of Nehekhara.
Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker had heard tales of the Land of the Dead, but it was of little interest to him until now. The Dwarf Empire had been at constant war for years battling Skaven and Goblins from within their mountain strongholds. In recent times, entire holds had been wiped out by their enemies causing the mining of gold and other precious metals to come to a halt. It was this concerning crisis in which King Rodin sent a Dwarf expedition into the Land of the Dead to see what resources could be acquired from the rumoured treasures of the deserts. Erik Wildstrider, a Grudgestriker Runesmith who had proven to have a mind for battle tactics as well as his ancient hammercraft of magicbinding, was chosen to lead the expedition into the unfamiliar lands of the so-called dead.
When the Ironclad ships of the Dwarfs made landfall, Wildstrider immediately ordered the commencement of their quest for treasure in this strange, new land. Within days, the Dwarfs had accumulated chests of gold and barrels full of jewels. Erik discovered an immaculate scepter beset with jade colored gemstones, only to fall ill hours later. It was not long before the guardians of Nehekhara stirred to exact vengeance upon the trespassing Dwarfs. The Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar had been alerted of the avarice interlopers and promptly sent a host of warriors, led by his son – the Tomb Prince Lahkashaz, to dispatch them.
Amongst the ruins of a desolated temple, the Grudgestrikers took a defensive position, Wildstrider took command despite his unnatural ailment, and the Dwarfs bombarded the oncoming Undead warriors with their ballistics. The Dwarfs cheered as their massive stone thrower, Helga, launched a huge piece of masonry that crushed some Undead monstrosity. Without warning, the sands shifted behind the Dwarf battle line, as tomb guardians mounted upon great skeletal beasts emerged from beneath the sands. These massive Undead riders disrupted the Dwarf lines trampling and maiming the warriors in their path.
Though the Dwarfs were surrounded on all fronts, Wildstrider had laid a trap for his foes. Before the battle had commenced, the wily Runesmith discovered and took position behind a small dune of Khemrian quicksand. As the Dwarfs gained the upper hand on the Necropolis Knights, the advancing Skeleton Warriors to their front marched right into Wildstrider’s ruse. The tenuous quicksand swallowed the Undead warriors whole. The Dwarfs had been saved by the treacherous terrain of the deserts, but were concerned of this new enemy their expedition had seemingly attracted.
THE RESTORATION OF LYSTO-EN-ARBAL
The Nehekhara city of Lybaras lay far to the east, beyond the mountains, remote from the heart of the desert. So it was that the armies of the Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar marched to the ruins of Lysto-en-Arbal, an ancient city, mostly buried beneath the sands, that had been razed by the armies of the Usurper during the time of the Necromancer’s great treachery. It was by the will of King Lakhashar that Lysto would be restored to its former glory and become the capital of his realm. From Lysto, the Tomb-Emperor would initiate his twofold stratagem to vanquish the Usurper and the other interlopers of Nehekhara.
Upon the Tomb King’s arrival, the Necrotects of Lybaras immediately began the restoration of Lysto. Thousands of Skeleton Warriors and animated constructs worked night and day until the city was raised and heavily fortified. Within a fortnight, the bone white walls and shining monuments of Lysto glittered in the desert sun – the great city of Lysto-en-Arbal had been restored.
Once the restoration of Lysto had been completed, King Lakhashar sent his armies to comb the deserts in search for plundering interlopers. The Tomb King’s army met and fought a series of battles against the Khorne Legions of Brand the Bloody-Handed. But when rumours that Nagash himself had returned to Nehekhara surfaced, King Lakhashar made a temporary truce with the Bloody-Handed’s Blood Legion. For the Great Necromancer had become the immediate threat…
THE BLACK PYRAMID OF NAGASH
The ever-looming shadow of the Black Pyramid of Nagash was a days ride from Lysto. Until King Lakhashar managed to find a way to destroy the evil monument, it was the Tomb-Emperor’s decree to use the power of the Black Pyramid of Nagash against its master. The Liche Sorcerer Ka-Lakmil, said to be an old pupil of the vile Liche King Arkhan the Black, immediately begun syphoning power from the Black Pyramid. The pyramid fuelled Ka-Lakmil mastery of Dark Magic, allowing the Liche to raise the fresh corpses of the desert.
When Ka-Lakmil received word of an army of Ogres plundering the temples and pyramids of Nehekhara, Ka-Lakmil personally led an army of Tomb Warriors to face them, for the Ogres would be the first to feel the potency of the Black Pyramid. It was only because of the power of the pyramid, however, that Ka-Lakmil was able to survive against the depredations of Erag Steelbelly, Slaughtermaster of the Leadguts, and his Ogre army.
Like the Dwarfs, Greasus Goldtooth had dispatched an army to bring further wealth and gold to the Overtyrant. At the Battle of Dune Sea, Erag Steelbelly and his Ogres withered hundreds of arrows as they advance upon the warriors of Nehekhara. In a delaying action, Ka-Lakmil raised the fresh corpses of the desert to slow the Ogres advance, a wall of zombies rose, clawing and snarling at the obese Ogres. But the inevitable Ogre onslaught could not be prevented. The Steelbelly blasted the zombies apart with potent Gut Magic as his Ironguts tore through the Undead things without breaking a sweat. Erag and his Ogres eventually reached the Nehekharaion battle line, smashing and breaking the Skeleton Warriors like frail twigs. Though Erag had won the conflict, the hungry Ogres perused the broken remains of the Skeleton Warriors and complained ¬– ‘Where’s da meat?’
THE GLORY OF MORKHEIM
Back in the Old World, Reiksmarshal Arno, Valten, and the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, Balthasar Gelt, led the Imperial Army of Talabheim against the newly erected Goblin Town of Morkheim, a sprawling new city and massive extension of the goblin-captured Moot, which Grom the Paunch had raised in defiance of the Empire of Mankind.
Even the insubordinate Captain Schein, who had been summoned by the Reiksmarshal, arrived to aid the Stewart of the Empire. At the fore of Schein’s army, however, a blasphemous creature of massive proportions soared across the battlefield, breathing flicking, blue flames upon the Goblins.
The great Chaos wyrm, Kar’gornysh, who Schien had long plotted to release from its ancient prison beneath the Bogenhafen Tower of Magistrate had come to destroy the enemies of its bound master. At the sight of the tainted monster, Arno knew that Schien had succumbed to the temptation of the Runious Powers and, perhaps, had become an agent of Chaos. The Reiksmarshal would deal with Schien soon enough; for the time being, the Goblins consumed his immediate attention. Captain Schein was pleased with his new pet, yet his glorious machinations had come to fruition only for the massive Dragon of Chaos to be laid low by goblinoid arrows. Too thirsty for slaughter, and weakened from its centuries of imprisonment, Kar’gornysh’s rash decent upon the walls of Morkheim had proven to be a fatal error for the beast.
The men of the Empire clashed with the goblinoids upon the ramparts of Morkheim. The Reiksmarshal himself led the foray to take the gatehouse. Arno and his Reiksguard cut down scores of Goblins like scythes through wheat. A Troll stepped forth and belched forth a vile broth of acidy vomit, melting flesh and armour as though they were made of wax. Arno drove his Runefang deep into the thing’s mouth, piercing through its throat before slicing the blade downward from throat to groin, essentially splitting the Troll in two.
Though Arno and the Reiksguard captured and held the gatehouse, the number of Goblins crammed onto the ramparts was too great for the Imperial soldiers. Embattled within the gatehouse and unable to raise the gate, the Reiksguard eventually were forced to withdraw from Morkheim.
THE SIEGE OF GROM’S PAUNCH
The Overtyrant, Greasus Goldtooth attempted a direct assault against the commandeered Moot, now called Grom’s Paunch by the Goblins. Massive Stonehorns carried siege towers packed with Ogres eager to crush the diminutive Goblins defending the ramparts. A mob of Maneaters spearheaded the attack against the fortress. Gutbutting their way onto the walls, the Maneaters easily swatted the Goblins from the ramparts, followed by loud fits of belly laughter. The elite Ogres took such delight in the plight of the weedy defenders that they began making sport of the whole engagement by playing ‘Toss the Goblin,’ a favorite pass time of the Ogres that involved throwing a goblinoid as hard as possible into a wall or mountainside. When a head exploded on impact, splattering a thick green paste upon the wall, the Ogres roared with amusement. Taking Grom’s Paunch would be easy. But when the Goblins suddenly began to chant and cheer for ‘Da Red Deaf,’ a bloated Arachnarok Spider, with a carapace of crimson, scaled over the fortress walls and sallied forth to confront the Ogres still marching upon the city. A swarm of lesser spiders followed in its wake.
The appearance of the huge spider became an instant distraction for the ever-hungry Ogre horde, for Tharthrog Leadgut and his Gorestompers, did not fear the massive spider, but instead desired to eat it! Tharthrog had encountered a similar beast years ago during a hunting expedition and, since then, fried spider legs had become a delicacy in the Leadguts tribe. The Ogre Tyrant sent his sabretusks, Hamstringer and Legsnapper, to draw the giant arachnid deep into Ogre lines until Tharthrog and the Gorestompers could surround the beast, trap it, and stomp it. As first Greasus himself became enraged at the distraction, bawling and yelling at his single-minded subordinates, but soon Greasus too became enthralled with the idea of fried spider legs and the assault on Grom’s Paunch was abandoned altogether as the Ogre army turned their full might upon the eight-legged arachnid. Though the assault failed, Greasus and his Ogres feasted well that night.
THE SIEGE OF CROM’S KEEP
Tired of his subordinates continued failures, the Everchosen launched a massive assault upon the Dwarf held fortress of Crom’s Keep. This time, there would be no failure, for Archaon Everchosen himself commanded the assault. Since the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand, the Everchosen’s body had swelled into a menacing, daemonic-like stature, corrupted by the presence of the Daemon Prince, Be’lakor. The ill-favored Daemon had managed to possess the Three Eyed King, but Archaon’s will had been too potent to wholly consume. The Everchosen’s iron resolve and relentless ambition for conquest outweighed even Be’lakor’s longing to be crowned as the Everchosen of Chaos, and so Archaon had been able to suppress Be’lakor’s looming presence more often than not. Even so, the Daemon’s interloping presence was ever cognizant, often goading Archaon to make impetuous decisions or provoking some other insolence.
Unaware of Archaon’s internal conflict with Be’lakor, rumours surfaced within the camps of the Everchosen’s followers that their master had developed the unhinged habit of speaking to himself. For when the constant whispering lies of Be’lakor vexes the Everchosen enough, Archaon can be heard making spontaneous utterances, such as ‘shut up daemon,’ seemingly speaking to no one but himself. Still, others claim the Everchosen is merely in commune with the gods themselves.
Despite his personal dilemma, the Everchosen’s campaign of conquest would not be sated. The Dwarfs of Barak Varr had been a barrier to Archaon’s ambitions for too long. His own lieutenant, Crom the Conqueror, had established a foothold in Dwarf territory, raising a mighty fortress-outpost, only to have it taken by the Grudgestriker Dwarfs. Archaon was determined to retake Crom’s Keep, marking the beginning of his conquest of the Dwarf empire.
The Dwarfs grimly lined the fortress walls readying axe, hammer, and crossbow for another Chaos assault. Huge, iron siege towers, pushed by mutated monstrosities, surged towards the fortress walls. Atop the mobile towers, Khorne Wrathmongers and Archaon’s Chosen warriors, roared praises to the Everchosen and the Blood God alike as the missiles of Dwarfs rained down upon them.
Archaon himself, sprouting a leathery pair of bat-like wings, flew atop of the gatehouse swinging the Slayer of Kings in precise, arcing thrusts, each sweep loping the head of a veteran Dwarf warrior. When the Wrathmongers and Chosen reached the ramparts, their fury was devastating. Despite their superior position atop the walls, the Dwarfs were overwhelmed by the Chaos onslaught. Wielding huge flails in reckless, wild arcs, the Wrathmongers threw themselves at the Dwarfs seemingly mad with no concern for their own lives. Although the Dwarfs fought valiantly, the fury of Chaos could not be sated. Crom’s Keep was recaptured and the Dwarf garrison met a bloody end.
THE SEA OF CHAOS: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT
From his Black Ark in the Sea of Chaos, Dreadlord Dukillion plotted the further conquest of the Old World. The Dark Elf Dreadlord had sent word back to the Witch King of Naggaroth of the success of his multi-tiered strikes across the Old World frontier. His murderous Naggarothi had butchered an expedition of Wood Elves that had strayed too far from Athel Loren, raided the Goblin mines of Goria, and captured the southern city-state of Remas – the capital city of the Republic of the same name, said to have been built upon the ruins of an abandoned High Elf outpost.
Dukillion’s marvelous victories and dreams of ultimate conquest came to an abrupt end, however, when the vast, Grand Fleet of Bretonnia suddenly appeared out of a heavy fog, ramming the prows of their vessels into the anchored Black Arks of the Dark Elves. Scores of Knights in shinning armour bordered the massive Ark fortresses in a relentless and bloody assault upon the unprepared Dark Elves. When the Dreadlord commanded his sorceress sister to summon the beasts of the black deeps to aid them, the treacherous sorceress laughed at her brother’s trivial victories and ultimate folly. Instead, she summoned a flock of spiteful Harpies who seized Dukillion, their vulture-like talons puncturing through his armour and embedding deep into his flesh, and carried him high into the gloomy skies before dropping the Dreadlord to his doom at the center of the Sea of Chaos. The traitorous sorcerous mysterious dispersed in a cloud of violet mist and the remaining Dark Elves were slaughtered by the glorious Knights of Bretonnia. The livery colored banners of Bretonnia were raised in the southern shoreline of the Sea of Chaos.
THE ULTIMATE ALLIANCE OF ABSOLUTE POWER!
At the Old Imperial Road, an army of ultimate evil marched upon the gates of Talabheim. The Chaos Hordes of Archaon Everchosen united with the Ogre Kingdoms of Greasus Goldtooth, as well as the Goblin Hordes of Grom the Paunch, and the Monstrous Host of Throgg the Troll King. The Reiksmarshal returned from his campaigning in the nick of time to defend his realm and was pleased to find that his Dwarf allies had already arrived to assist in the defense the Empire. The Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker had taken position upon the walls of city, commanding the Grudgestriker Dwarfs manning the ramparts as well as batteries of potent Imperial and Dwarf artillery. The lost Dwarf Lord Donberry Blueberry rallied his clan to honor the ancient oaths of loyalty and bonds of friendship between the Dawi and Men of Sigmar from the Times of Old. An army of Undead, led by Ul-Rem Nartect, Arch-Necrotect of Lybaras and Lord of Constructs, had been sent by his master, the Great Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar to exact redemption upon the Hordes of Chaos. The Tomb King cared not of the Empire of Mankind, but found common cause in their repugnance of Chaos. Finally, a large contingent of Bretonnian Knights marched alongside the Reiksguard to defend the order of mankind.
The battle commenced with the sound of thunder as the batteries of Imperial and Dwarf war engines opened fired upon the Forces of Destruction. The Exalted Bloodthirster, G’Gakllshuleeffoekw, Grand Marshal of Khorne’s 8th Legion of Blood, took the brunt of the fire. When the dust cleared a smoking crater was all that remained where the mighty Bloodthirster had stood. With its monstrous form vanquished, the battlefield illuminated brighter as the rays of the sun flooded the field, no longer obstructed by the massive bulk of the banished Greater Daemon.
A legion of Scorpion Dune Chariots charged into the infamous company of mercenaries – Golgfag’s Ogres. The crab-like claws of the scorpions snapped as the skeleton charioteers broke their spears upon the thick hides of the Ogres. Golgfag himself seized a gigantic scorpion by its pinchers raising and shaking the creature high above his head. The bone chariot the scorpion was yoked to toppled and splintered. The scorpion’s tail swung wildly, striking Golgfag in the back, but the mercenary captain’s bulk was too thick for the scorpion’s sting to penetrate. With seemingly ease, as massive crack was heard over the din of the battle as Golgfag snapped the creature’s pinchers and tossed it aside like a rag doll. Golgfag enjoyed breaking these things.
The legendary Champion of Chaos, Harry the Hammer, rumoured to have fought in the very first Battle of Black Fire Pass, led the vanguard of the Archaon’s Horde into Ul-Rem Nartect’s Undead Constructs – unliving, guardian statues known as Ushabti in the Lands of the Dead. Harry’s burning hatred and unnatural death-aura was anathema to colossal Undead warriors. Yet, their numbers were legion, and with the stone shaping magic of Ul-Rem, the Ushabti wielded their ritual blades in unison, with a precision and discipline unmatched and unseen in the Old World, splitting Chaos Warriors in twain.
A huge horde of Goblin Wolf Riders, charging across the open fields towards the Imperial battle line, were suddenly pulled and thrown from their wolves by grasping claws of dwellers bellow the ground. The magically summoned fiends pulled down the wolves and their greenskin riders seizing paws and tails, causing the Giant Wolves to yelp and howl as their Goblin riders cried out in high-pitched shrieks. After a few moments, the dwellers returned to the abyss below and the void in the earth sealed itself as though the rift never-was. Over half of the Wolf Riders and been pulled to their graves and the remaining Wolf Riders turned tail and fled. The horde of Goblin Wolf Riders would have certainly fled for the hills, never to return, if not for their leader – Gorzor Khan, Butcher of Talabheim Fields, an old and gnarly Goblin Khan who had been through worse.
‘Stand yer ground, ya maggots,’ croaked the Khan followed by a disgusted glare. The remaining Goblins came to a halt. They lifted their heads high and sat straight on their steeds, chest out in a manner to appear brave. A nasty shout and look from Gorzor was all that was needed to keep the Goblin raiders inline. Such was the vicious reputation of the Butcher of Talabheim Fields, the Goblins wouldn’t dare disappoint Gorzor, not while he was in such close proximately, anyway.
The Lord of the End Times, still waging an internal battle with the Daemon Prince Be’lakor who had partially possessed the Chaos Everchosen, imposed his will upon the First Daemon Prince and took full control of his body. Leading the Swords of Chaos and Skull Crushers of Khorne into the stout Dwarf Hammerers of Donberry Blueberry. The elite, old Dwarfs were thrashed and trample under the might the Chaos cavalry, but refused to flee. For they would honor their oaths of fealty or die in attempt! Lord Blueberry challenged the Three-Eyed King to single combat, raining a furious series of blows that would see lesser lords fall, but the Everchosen was made of sterner stuff and Donberry Blueberry was swiftly decapitated by Archaon’s massive broadsword – the Slayer of Kings. Seeing their Lord-Father fall, the Hammerers surged upon the Skull Crushers with relentless hatred, toppling three of the monstrous cavalry and smashing their riders to bloody pulps with their runic hammers.
Enormous sieges towers carrying repulsive Trolls assaulted the fortress walls. King Rodin and his guards vigorously defended against the gargling, belching, and vomiting fiends. A huge crimson Arachnarok Spider scaled a fortress tower devouring Dwarf Trollslayers who threw themselves at the giant arachnid in hopes of a glorious death. The spider granted the Slayers their death wishes, slaying all but one of the orange bearded outcastes – Ungrim Ironfist, the Slayer King and Incarnate of Fire who went on to hack off all eight legs of the great spider, slaying the abominable beast and casting its carcass from the tower’s ramparts.
At the height of the battle, the King of Bretonnia displayed his true intent by turning on his Imperial allies. Rather than continuing the assault on the oncoming legions of Goblins and Trolls, the king ordered his knights to wheel to face the Men of the Empire.
The King himself charged into the flank of the Reiksguard Knights and challenged the Reiksmarshal and Stewart of the Empire, Maximilian Arno, to single combat. Visibly rattled and railed with anger at such betrayal, Arno strode forward in acceptance with a taciturn frown. It was only then, that the Reiksmarshal realized that this trader-king was not the venerated and honourable King Leoncoeur, but the False King, the Usurper, Leoncoeur's bastard – Mallobaude the Serpent!
Without even a nod of recognition, Mallobaude launched a fierce series of blows aimed at Arno’s head and heart. The Reiksmarshal parried them all. Recognizing the grievous injuries Mallobaude’s Hyppogryph mount had already sustained, Arno struck the beast’s weak spot with his Runefang thrusting his enchanted sword deep into the beast with a hard twist. The Hyppogryph shrieked and roared at Arno’s well-delivered deathblow, throwing Mallobaude from its back, before collapsing in its death throes.
The Trader, having been thrown by his steed, had been disarmed. Groveling before the Reiksmarshal, Mallobaude pleaded for the Stewart of the Empire to spare his life. Arno replied with a single sweep of his blade, beheading the Usurper for his treason against the Empire.
Atop his wyvern, Doom Serpent, Grom charged an Imperial Steam Tank. Doom Serpent’s talons and Grom’s axe tore through the thick armoured hull of the tank’s flank, when suddenly it exploded! The Wyvern made a horrible screeching sound as it stumbled backwards. Yet as the smoke cleared, a second Steam Tank rumbled forth at full speed crashing into the Wyvern, before it too exploded in a huge booming crescendo of black soot and shrapnel. The force of the explosion threw Grom and his Wyvern to the ground. Doom Serpent shrieked louder than before. Simultaneously, a huge, fiery rock struck Grom right in his infamously bloated paunch. The Goblin King roared in pain as his gut was seared at the same time as being knocked off the back of Doom Serpent from the sheer force of the blow. The Paunch, however, mustered enough strength to climb onto the back of his Wyvern, and the severely injured wyrm languidly absconded high into the sky. The Dwarfs atop the tower cheered at the accuracy of their shot and demise of their hated foe – they would be honored by the High King for driving Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain from the field.
As the battle raged on, the alliance of Men and Dwarfs (and Tomb Kings) valiantly held the city-fortress and the armies of the ultimate alliance of evil were broken and scattered. The alliance of Order had prevailed.
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (May & August 2017)
THE SIEGE OF VON WALDMUNT
Despite a great victory for Men and Dwarfs at Talabheim, goblinoids and Ogres still roamed abroad with impunity. And in a bid for his master’s favour, Gorgog Bonechewa laid siege upon Castle von Waldmunt – a fortress raised by the Reiksmarshal to defend against would-be invaders of the Empire. Gorgog’s Wolf Raiders were not an ideal siege force, but Gorgog was determined and disciplined (for a Goblin, anyway!), and cunning enough to organize a siege. The warlord ordered his Goblins to pen the wolves, forage for wood, and ensured the ale was hidden from the Giants, Grox and Brox – for Gorgog would not have his mighty, Giant Hill Trolls march upon the walls in a drunken stupor. In short order, the Goblins built a great siege tower and an array of potent siege weapons. Da Great Gog seemingly summoned another Arachnarok Spider that emerged from the Forest of Shadows.
Unfortunately for the Goblins, Ungrim Ironfist and a host of Dwarfs had marched to the aid of Men. Man and Dwarf stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramparts of von Waldmunt while Gorgog and his Goblin army surged towards the fortress walls. Reiksmarshal Arno led the defense of the Empire with Valten, the heir apparent of Sigmar, at his side – both bolstering the courage of the Imperial soldiers with their mere presence. Giants pummeled the walls and defenders with clubs made of uprooted trees, gigantic Spiders the size of townhouses scaled the walls, and Goblins assaulted the ramparts via siege tower and ladder. Heavy casualties were suffered on both sides, but as the battle raged on the Goblin numbers began to dwindle. Entire mobs of Goblins were hacked down and thrown from the ramparts. The alliance of Men and Dwarfs, once again, proved too potent for defeat and Castle von Waldmunt held against its foul invaders.
As Gorgog fled for the hills, the Reiksmarshal received tidings that Grom the Paunch had attempted to capture a key Imperial mine, but was swiftly defeated by a small band of warriors led by Balthasar Gelt. Grom’s shamans were no match for the magical might of the Supreme Patriarch and in response; Grom had ordered his Doom Divers and catapults to target the ‘Shiny Git’ (Gelt). But Gelt proved too swift atop Pandora the Pegasus to be caught by the living-Goblin missiles. Gelt’s magical assault seemed unstoppable as entire mobs of Goblins were turned into mounds of gleaming gold, while their mates squabbled over the magical spoils. Knowing he had been outmatched, Grom called for his army to retreat.
THE TRIUMPH OF TOMB-EMPEROR
Within the Land of the Dead, the undead warriors of High King Lakhashar continued their relentless scourge upon the interlopers of the Golden Empire. The Dwarf expedition had gone terribly wrong. Their commander, Erik Wildstrider, had been afflicted with an unnatural malediction and veteran Dwarf Warriors, who hand fought in the times of the historical War of the Beards, had fallen as they became completely cut off from their kin in the mountains. Erik made his last stand against Lakhashar at the Dune of Serpents. There his warriors, covered in the dust of the deserts, stood in defiance of the abominations of the Tomb King’s army in a great shield wall. The Skeleton soldiers could not break the battleline of veteran Dwarf warriors, even Lakhashar’s elite Tomb Guard could not penetrate the unyielding shield wall of the Dwarfs.
Finally, King Lakhashar summoned his reserves. A legion of Scorpion Chariots emerged from beneath the dunes, a haze of dust trailing in their wake as the chariots raced towards the defiant Dwarf battleline. Erik commanded his warriors to hold as the skeleton chariots smashed into the shield wall and then everything went black…
KNIGHTS OF THE UNKNOWN CROWN
After Greasus Goldtooth’s failed assault upon Grom’s Paunch, a glittering host of Knights flying the bright colors of their livery assembled before the Goblin-held Moot. Whether their allegiance was to Mallobaude, the renegade cut down by Reiksmarshal Arno after his betrayal at Talabheim, or to the honorable King Louen, the Goblins cared not. Five massive trebuchets had been drawn before the walls of the Paunch, raining death upon the Goblins and smashing the battlements of the city. A Sorceress with red hair summoned storms of fire upon the Goblins atop of the battlements and Bretonnian archers fired massive volleys of arrows at the goblinoids.
In efforts to counter the bombardment, the spikey gates of Grom’s Paunch opened, and a gang of Goblin Chariots zoomed forth – racing towards the assembled Bretonnian Knights. The Knights were caught off guard as the rumbling Goblin chariots smashed into their ranks. In the wake of the chariots came the monstrous pets of the Goblins, a pair of deranged Mangler Squigs and the Giant, Burt, strode forth. Forest Goblins Spider Riders scuttered over the battlements with alarming war cries and the Bretonnians soon found themselves on the defense as the Goblins sallied forth.
The Knights became embattled by the huge, hungry Squigs and scythed chariots, as Goblin Spider Riders spiked each trebuchet one by one. The Bretonnians, not prepared for such a counterassault, were overrun and their Red Sorceress, along with her apprentice, were captured by the Goblins.
In celebration of their victory, the Goblins tortured the two captive wizards. The red woman’s apprentice suffered fatal wounds and in a gust of fury, the Red Sorceress evoked a blast of fiery retribution upon her Goblin agitators. The Goblins cried out and scattered, only to regroup in greater numbers to take control of their prisoner. And when they did, each thread of hair upon her amber head was ripped from her scalp. When the Goblins grew bored of the sorceress, they threw her broken husk into an iron cell that already held a pair of prisoners…
‘Wake the woman,’ ordered Elias Hernals, Captain of Grieshof’s Cleavers and former Standard Bearer of his lord’s standing army. The wizard, Mikel Gilden, merely gazed back at the Imperial Captain without a hint of acknowledgement, as though his rank no longer mattered. And perhaps it didn’t for they were both prisoners of the Goblins now, and it was unlikely that either of them would live to tell the tale. ‘Bah!’ Hernals waved a hand in disgust at the cynical wizard. ‘I’ll do it myself,’ he snapped. Gilden had ever been a disappointment to the Colleges of Magic, and he made for an even worse cellmate.
‘Who are you?’ Hernals gave the red sorceress a gentle nudge. The woman was awake, but barely conscious. Hernals could see that it took great effort for the red woman to open her eyes.
‘I am an advisor…to the king,’ she muttered, in an effort that seemed to drain her of what little life she clung to.
‘King? Which king?’ Hernals inquired.
‘The one, true king,’ the red lady gasped.
‘She’s not going to help us,’ Gilden mocked. ‘We are in dungeon – Sigmar knows how far from the surface – surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands of greenskins. Assuming we could escape this cell, we’d be lucky to make it to the next corridor.’
‘Shut it Gilden!’ Hernals warned. ‘I’m getting out of here with or without you!’
‘Get out of here? Ha! You don’t even know where we are,’ the Gold Wizard continued, ‘we’ll never get out of this dreadful–‘
‘I said shut your trap,’ Hernals admonished, interrupting the wizard, before lunging at him. He punched Gilden with a meaty fist to the left jaw before seizing the wizard by his shoulders and punching him in the stomach. Suddenly, the cell door blasted apart in a loud, fiery explosion, throwing both Hernals and Gilden to the floor. As the smoke cleared, the red woman was standing at the cell opening, her bald, blood matted scalp looking like a floating skull enveloped by the gloom of the smoke.
‘Follow me, if you want live,’ the red lady advised before proceeding down the corridor. The confusion of the Goblins could be heard booming throughout the citadel. Hernals and Gilden turned to each other in surprise, before rising and following the mysterious sorceress down the corridor…
THE OUSTING OF KRELL
At Da Great Wall of Gork, the Skeleton Legions of Krell had launched a campaign to seize the mountain fortresses of the Goblins. Two of fortresses had fallen to the armies of the dead, but Sourgutt, Castellan of Da Great Wall of Gork, had been relentless in his attempts to repel the legion of the Wight King.
Using the powers of his magical helm, Sourgutt attempted to summon a host of Daemons to aid the Goblin armies against the Undead, but the ritual went horribly wrong. Instead of summoning an army of Daemons to unleash upon his foes, Sourgutt unlocked the ancient, daemonic evil that had been bound into his magical helm centuries ago – Ulrishta, a Daemon Lord of Tzeentch, possessed the Goblin Warlord moving from its prison inside the inanimate crown and into the black heart of the cruel Goblin chieftain. The Goblins were not aware of Sourgutt’s daemonic possession, though they reckoned their boss to be ‘spookier’ and stranger than usual.
Sourgutt tore into the Skeleton legions with both supernatural strength and daemonically enhanced magical might. The Warlord’s seemingly relentless and unstoppable prowess emboldened the Goblins – for they defended Da Great Wall of Gork with fearless enthusiasm from the stringent Undead. The siege came to an end when Sourgutt destroyed the Wight King Krell himself, enveloping and disintegrated the Lord of Undeath in a fierce conflagration of scorching blue fire that seared Krell’s skeleton frame and armour before melting the Wight into a flickering puddle of blue flame.
And so it was, in the southern end of the World’s Edge Mountains where the forces of the Great Necromancer Nagash had breached Da Great Wall of Gork, Daemon-possessed Sourgutt had rallied the Goblins of Misty Mountain and defeated the Skeleton host of Krell.
THE BATTLE OF MORKHEIM FIELDS
Reiksmarshal Arno, Valten, and the Dwarf Slayer King Ungrim Ironfist marched upon the Goblin town of Morkheim, a crude city connected to the massive Goblin city known as Grom’s Paunch – the mighty Goblin King’s new capital in the north. In recent months, Ungrim’s Dwarfs and Arno’s finest soldiers of the Empire had achieved a great many laurels in battle and had repeatedly defeated the Goblin and Ogre armies rampaging through their lands. The Reiksmarshal’s scouts had reported that Grom had fled to Morkheim, and playing on the Goblin King’s desire for a good scrap, the united army of Men and Dwarfs lured the Goblins to battle five leagues from the gates of Morkheim.
Two huge battlelines of Trolls made up Grom’s vanguard, his own guard of Stone Trolls, as well as the mercenary Chaos Trolls of Vorga. The Trolls would easily tear through the heavily armoured Dwarf warriors and Imperial Knights, with the Goblins marching in to clean up whatever was left. However, the Reiksmarshal and Valten, riding at the head of the Reiksguard Knights, broke through the Troll wall and relentlessly followed through into an enormous horde of Night Goblins led by Grom himself. The Knights slaughtered scores of Night Goblins, but being cutoff from the rest of their army, soon found themselves surrounded and stranded in a sea of Goblins.
While the Trolls held the rest of the Arno’s army back, one warrior was able to penetrate the front lines of the Goblins, singlehandedly disemboweling four massive Trolls, before charging into the black sea of hooded Night Goblins. Ungrim Ironfist, Slayer King of Karak Kadrin and Incarnate of Fire, had emerged to fight alongside his allies and immediately issued a challenge to the obese Goblin King.
Grom roared, accepting the challenge of the Dwarf King, and swung a series of wild strikes at the Slayer King with Elf-Biter. Ungrim parried the powerful blows of Grom’s Axe, before slicing a massive wound in the Goblin King’s paunch with his flaming Axe of Dargo. Rather than spilling Grom’s guts, the fiery axe had immediately cauterized the massive lesion and Grom fell back, enveloped by the numbers of his minions and disappearing into their ranks. The Night Goblins seized their king and fled. The Reiksguard Knights pursued their foes and many Night Goblins were trampled beneath the hooves of the Knights’ warhorses.
Ungrim raised his mighty rune axe in victory – for he had triumphed were so many had failed, the notorious King of the Goblins had fallen to his axe. Yet, before the Slayer King could join the pursuit of the fleeing Goblins, he was suddenly stuck by a massive boulder. Such was the force of the impact of the huge rock, that Ungrim’s crowned head was knocked clean off from his body. Gutbug and the Goblin crew of the Man-Mangler catapult cheered and laughed – for seeing the Dwarf’s head ‘fly’ was extremely amusing to the greenskins. The king’s body slumped to the ground and Ungrim Ironfist, the Great Slayer King of the Dwarfs, was no more.
The Hammerers and Troll Slayers defeated and scattered the leaderless Trolls and soon rendezvous with the Reiksmarshal before the gates of Morkheim. The Dwarfs anger could not be sated and their retribution was terrible – they hewed down the gates of the Goblin city and unleashed their vengeance upon the greenskins within.
‘For Ungrim,’ they bellowed. So terrifying were the war cries of the Dwarfs that the Goblins refused to stand and fight. They fled were they could, but in the end no Goblin in Morkheim could escape the onslaught of the Dwarfs.
Grom had been defeated and Morkheim captured, but it was a hollow victory in the eyes of the Dwarfs. For one of the last great leaders of Dwarf-kind had been lost.
ONWARD TO THE PAUNCH
Although a great victory was achieved at Morkheim, word was received that Grom the Paunch had survived and fled to the sanctuary of the twin Goblin city, Grom’s Paunch. The Dwarfs immediately petitioned their Imperial allies to attack the neighboring Goblin city and finish the Goblin King once and for all. The Reiksmarshal disagreed. His Men were fatigued from the Battle of Morkheim Fields and the ensuing siege of Morkheim. His soldiers needed to recover and to celebrate their victory. Pressing them to immediate battle, especially a siege, would be bad for moral and tactically ill advised. But the Dwarfs would not be refused. A legend amongst Dwarf kind had been slain, by cowardly (and shoddy) Goblin artillery, they would have their vengeance with or without their allies. Against his better judgment, Reiksmarshal Arno told his allies, they would find retribution for Ungrim and take The Paunch together.
The assault on The Paunch was a disaster. The soldiers of the Empire were fatigued and ineffective, and the Dwarfs rushed the castle walls heedless and reckless of sound tactics. There was no sign of Grom, but the Goblins easily thwarted the meager assaults of the Reiksmarshal’s alliance. As the army of Men and Dwarfs withdrew their assault in defeat, the Dwarfs grumbled about the poor display of ‘Manling’ soldiery.
A DWARF’S OATH
Erik awoke, a burning sensation seared across his body, his throat was as dry as the sunbaked sands in which he lay. The sun was at its zenith and all living things under its gaze felt its burning rays. Erik sat up and looked about him. His warriors lay dead around him. His expedition in the Lands of the Dead had come to an end and he was all that remained of it.
The Runesmith had failed. He had failed his kin and king, and worse, he had failed the warriors who had followed him to this nightmarish land with promises of glory. Erik sobbed, wallowing in his defeat. He seized the gold sceptre, taken from the ruins of a desolated temple, and smashed it upon a broken shield. The sickness that had afflicted his bones immediately dissipated and Erik felt strength return to his limbs as the blood of his ancestors rushed through his hollow veins.
After a moment, Erik shook his tears away and became consumed with vehement rage. He shook his fists at the skies and bawled curses at the scorching sun. He swore a terrible oath of vengeance upon his enemies and a score of profanities upon the living dead. Finally, Erik forswore the fellowship of his kin as he took the vows of the Slayer Cult.
Then he rose from his burning sands, not as Erik Wildstrider – Runesmith of the Grudge-Strikers, but as Erik Doom-Seeker, Blight of Undead. Like many Slayers before him, Erik would seek a worthy doom in redemption of his sins and carve a deadly path of retribution through all who would stand in his way.
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (August 2017)
THE CROSSROADS TO NOWHERE
As the winter storms began, a massive battle took place at the Crossroads to Nowhere, a hidden pathway east of the World’s Edge Mountains that leads into the blighted, sulfuric landscape of the Dark Lands. Archaon Everchosen was determine to rid himself of Be’lakor, the insidious Daemon Prince who had possessed him, but who’s will was not strong enough to snuff out the unyielding presence of the Everchosen. At the Crossroads, the Armies of the Everchosen of Chaos and his allies sought the destruction of the Totem of Zenith, an ancient horacrux of power that contained a portion of Be’lakor’s daemonic essence. The totem had been erected when the world was young by tribes of a race now wiped from existence and all memory – a people who had served and worshipped the first Daemon Prince, until Be’lakor became bored of them and eradicated them like insects. No living mortal knew of these secrets of the Daemon Prince, but with Be’lakor’s shadowy presence within his own body, Archaon had gleaned much hidden knowledge from the depths of the Daemon’s ancient mind.
The Three Eyed King was determined to destroy the horacrux and in doing so, rid his soul of the filth that was Be’lakor. When the armies of Ultimate Evil arrived at the Crossroads to Nowhere, Archaon was furious to see that an alliance of Men and Dwarfs had already arrived. The legions of the Tomb-Emperor stood with them. It should have been impossible for the Alliance of Order to be aware of the horacrux, if not for the curiosity of the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. Using his authority as Supreme Patriarch, Balthasar Gelt had retrieved one of the eight forbidden tomes of the Grimoire Daemonicus, and had learned of the power the Totem of Zenith contained. The Supreme Patriarch had implored Reiksmarshal Arno to allow him (Gelt) to pursue the totem, for such an artifact, Gelt claimed, could potentially revive their deceased Emperor, Karl Franz. Arno has dismissed the request out of principle – the Emperor would not be ‘revived’ through dark magics. But when the Reiksmarshal learned of the movements the Everchosen’s armies he allowed Gelt to assemble a coalition to stop the forces of Chaos from acquiring the artifact.
As the cold winds rose, so too did the gale of the Winds of Magic, heighten by the cursed horacrux of Be’lakor. Entire regiments where swept aside and decimated by spells of extraordinary power, and through this turmoil of potent magic, the Totem of Zenith shattered. Archaon was instantly freed of his rival – the Daemon Prince banished from this soul. But the outcome had been of Be’lakor’s design all along, for such was the power imbued in his ancient horacrux that it’s destruction breached the fabric of reality itself as a hellish plain from the Realm of Chaos began to merge with the Dark Lands of the material world. The rift threatened to collapsed the entire world upon itself, before it mysteriously stabilized – the void was closed. But the brief gateway into the Realm of Chaos had left its mark. The residue of raw warpdust, materialized essence of Chaos had showered the already blighted landscape of the Dark Lands twisting the realm into a horrific, new plain of arcane terror.
The world was dying, though nobody knew it…
The total narrative is 48,614 words!
In April of 2022, we began the sequel campaign that takes place approximately 10 years after the events of our first campaign. The narrative of the second campaign starts in the third post of this thread: DARK TIDINGS II: THE AGE OF ANNIHILATION.
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THE DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN
A WARHAMMER FANTASY BATTLES CAMPAIGN
War! The Old World is crumbling under ruthless attacks and invasions on all fronts! While the Empire of Men and the Dwarfs of Karaz Ankor defend their realms from the enemies of civilization, armies of the Dark Gods march forth from both polars of the world, leaving nothing but death and ruination in their wake as they relentlessly despoil the lands of Men, Dwarfs and Elves. At the same time, barbarous hordes of Orcs & Goblins have come pouring out of the Badlands and Dark Lands in seemingly endless legions bent on nothing but destruction and mayhem! Worse still, it is rumoured that the leader of mankind, Emperor Karl Franz, has been afflicted by a terrible curse, crippling the greatest leader of the Old World and bringing about despair throughout the entire realm.
In the spring of the Imperial year 2523 – the Year of the Screeching Eagle – after a long winter of ice and blizzard, the armies of the Forces of Destruction marched forth from their own depraved domains to conquer the lands of the Old World. From a mysterious, arcane rift opening in the south, the Chaos Hordes of Archaon Everchosen, the Three-Eyed King and the Lord of the Ends Times, have begun a new invasion upon the world. With a renewed vehemence of annihilation, after his grand coronation as the undisputed uniter and Everchosen of Chaos, the Three-Eyed King has launched a new bid for world dominion from his stronghold in the Badlands – Archaos, the Fortress of the Everchosen. While in the north, the Chaos Legions of Goreblade Skulltaker – a maniacal and bloodthirsty Lord of Khorne – advance south from the Chaos Wastes, slaughtering all in their path for the glory of the Blood God.
Within the Worlds Edge Mountains, the notorious Goblin King – Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain – has returned to his fortress in the Misty Mountain fully recovered from his defeat on the Elven Isle of Ulthuan. Mustering a Goblin Horde the likes of which has never been seen in the Old World before, the ambitious Goblin King means to conquer the nations of Men and Dwarfs, ushering into a new era – ‘The Age of the Goblin.’ At the same time, a huge Black Orc Warlord from the Dark Lands, Morhog Da Mighty, has emerged at the head of an enormous coalition of Black Orcs, Orcs, Hobgoblins and enthralled Chaotic Dwarfs. With a host of bizarre war engines, monstrous beasts and titanic War Giants, Morhog wants nothing more than to stomp the realms of the civilized world to dust and all those unfortunate enough to lie in his path.
Such conflict could not have struck at a worse time for the Empire of Men. For during the long winter, the Emperor Karl Franz has succumbed to a horrible ailment. It is rumoured an affliction of sorcery has taken hold of the Emperor that has aged his mind and body to the extent of paralysis. The renowned statesman of the Old World is nothing more than a broken husk, decrepit and dying. A mere whispered word requires his entire strength of will, even so the Emperor’s last command was to appoint the Lord-Commander of Talabecland – Maximilian Arno – to the position of Reiksmarshal, in the perplexing absence of Kurt Helborg. It is therefore Arno’s charge to lead the full military might of the entire Empire of Men in defense of their realm against the numerous invading threats. From his war room in Talabheim, Max Arno has set his defenses and laid out his plans to halt the Forces of Destruction.
With dark tidings of the defeat of several Dwarf strongholds within the Worlds Edge Mountains by the greenskin hordes of both Grom the Paunch and Morhog Da Mighty, the Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker and his clan have been cutoff from their kin. Taking command of the Dwarf Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, King Rodin has begun recording a new chapter of grudges in Barak Varr’s own Book of Grudges, grudges the Dwarf King has sworn to strike out personally...
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR I – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (August 2012)
From the frozen north, rampaging out of the monster-infested Troll Country, Goreblade Skulltaker, Champion of Khorne, and his Chaotic Horde razed the lands of Kislev to gory ruin. The armies of Kislev have been massacred, their families butchered, their villages and fortresses razed and their kingdom subjugated to the wholesale slaughter of Khorne. With her country overrun, the Tzarina Katarin, the legendary Ice Queen of Kislev, is said to have escaped Goreblade’s clutches. Daemons and mutants, scoured the mountain and forests surrounding Kislev in search of the Tzarina, but the Ice Queen could not be found. Thus the Skulltaker turned his bloodthirsty attentions further south, commencing his conquest of the Empire with the invasion of the Imperial province of Talabecland.
It was on the edge of the Talabecland border, at the River Talabec where Goreblade and his Chaotic Warriors met Commander Grieshof, Lord-Commander Arno’s military counselor and war-lieutenant, and an enormous battalion of Imperial soldiers. Driving his Warriors into a crazed frenzy, Goreblade and his horde tore through the Imperial infantry spilling blood and claiming skulls for their bloody Daemon-God, Khorne. The heroic outlaws, Gotrek Gurnisson and Felix Jaeger who had agreed to join Grieshof’s army (in the hopes of Gotrek finding his doom) in the face of this new Chaos invasion, single handedly eradicated a squadron of Chaos knights and chariots before becoming locked in vicious combat with a Daemonic Hellcannon of Chaos. The Talabheim Lions were slaughtered to the man, but their insufferable Captain, Schein, somehow managed to escape his doom. As the Men of the Empire fell like wheat under scythe by the Khornate Warriors of Chaos, it was Balthasar Gelt, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic himself, who swooped down from the skies on his Pegasus, Pandora, in attempt to turn the tide of the battle. Channeling a potent spell with the legendary Staff of Volans, Lord Goreblade and his Chosen were blasted by a potent wave of radiant, golden light. In an instant the Chaos Warrior’s black armour shifted to a gleaming golden shine, their limbs slowly began to stiffen until they were rendered completely immobile at the warriors were transmutated into solid gold! Despite the seemingly demise of the enemy general, however, Commander Grieshof had been defeated in the initial attack of the invading Hordes of Chaos, with his army all but decimated. Though forced to withdraw with few survivors and broken moral, the Imperial soldiers did find some comfort in the fact that Goreblade Skulltaker was now nothing more than a statue of solid gold, jesting him ‘Lord Goldie’. Nonetheless, as a result of the hundreds of skulls reaped by Goreblade and his slaughter of the Kislevites, the Chaos Lord has gained the attention of the Blood God himself, for the Champion has seemingly been restored.
As the Black Host of Morhog Da Mighty, a ferocious Black Orc Warlord, emerged from the Dark Lands, an army of his vast Orc hordes under the Orcy lieutenant Grogz Eadsplitta spied the enormous wolf-riding Goblin vanguard of Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Although vastly outnumber by Grom’s Goblins, Grogz conceived a cunning plan to lure the Wolf Hordes into a narrow pass at the edge of the Worlds Edge Mountains. With the massive Wolf hordes and chariots bottlenecked by the pass and encumbered by the mountainside and the baleful Forest of Despair, Grogz’s Black Orc Boar Boyz and the Hobgoblin War-Giant, Hurg, would swing around Grom’s flank to smash the Goblins. However, Grogz carefully laid plans were thwarted when the renowned Wolf-Chief Gitilla Da Hunter and his Wolf Boyz, Da Howlerz, shot down the mighty Hurg in a barrage of enchanted, poisonous arrows and the Black Orc Boar Boyz got lost – failing to ever show up! Grom’s bodyguard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters, smashed Grogz’s Orcs when the bickering Orcs began to squabble amongst themselves. With his plan in debacles, Grogz fled with Grom roaring in triumph.
Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer of the Dwarf Clan Grudge-Eraser ambushed one of Archaon’s dread Chaos armies in the Badlands. Led by a fell Daemon Prince of Tzeentch, Xor’Etch, the armies fought to a near standstill. Xor’Etch and his sorcerer apprentice were barraged by Dwarven artillery and banished from the field. In the last moments, the Warriors of Chaos smashed through the Dwarven ranks causing them to withdraw.
In attempt to fulfill retribution for the past atrocities of the greenskins, Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker’s throng clashed with the main vanguard of the Black Host of Morhog, lead by the vicious Black Orc Warlord himself atop an enormous wolf-drawn chariot. A massive, magical tempest struck the battlefield causing monsters to emerge from their lairs and magic to rain about, in a torrential storm of magic. Morhog’s shaman, Ugruck Spooktalka, summoned the mighty Ice Wyrm, Gorthrax, the ancient Manticore, Deathwhip and the Giant, Grug. At the height of the battle, the massive stone thrower dubbed ‘Horde Thinner’ by the Dwarfs, struck Morhog’s chariot smashing it to smithereens and throwing the Black Orc Warlord to his feet. Markus’s Marvelous Beer Tank, a beer-powered Dwarf contraption based on the designs of Imperial Steam Tank, showered the Orc horde with its deadly Fire-Beer Cannon, melting the Orcs’ thick hides into puddles of green goo. Taking personal command of his guard of Black Orcs, da Muthakrusherz, Morhog smashed aside all stunties in his path and which he could catch, as the Dwarfs fled before him. The battle ended when King Rodin and his guard outmaneuvered the Black Orcs, charging the Muthakrusherz in their rear. The Dwarf King personally challenged Morhog to single combat besting the greenskin despot despite his massive stature. Suffering a severe leg wound, Morhog and the remnants of his horde fled leaving victory to the Grudgestrikers. King Rodin struck out many grudges this day.
Grom the Paunch’s chief Shaman, Gitgog Da Spida-King, perched atop a gargantuan Arachnarok Spider called ‘Da Great Gog’, led a massive Goblin horde against the chaotic warband of Wulfrik the Wanderer, an exceptionally large and ugly Chaos Chieftain who has joined Archaon’s infernal crusade against the Old World. Wulfrik’s warband was massacred when the two Giants – Ol’ One Eye and Drex Da Destroya met the warband head on, bellowing and stomping their enemies into submission. Wulfrik and a band of his veteran Marauders meanwhile, had marched around the main Goblin horde and attacked the Goblins from the rear. Although Wulfrik slew many of the diminutive greenskins, his arrive was too little and too late, for his main warband had been defeated and so Wulfrik was forced to retreat. Da Spida-King fed the survivors to Da Great Gog, in a horrific rite to his deity, the Spider-God.
While Dwarf King Rodin was out bringing retribution upon the foul Orcs in the Worlds Edge Mountains, the Lord of the End Times, Archaon Everchosen, led a massive assault against the Dwarf King’s capital – the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr! The mighty Dwarf garrison met the Chaos Hordes in open field rather than hide behind the walls of the ancient Dwarf stronghold. Archaon’s chief Sorcerer summoned the aid of a massive Warpfire Dragon; such was its size and wingspan that the entire battlefield was cloaked in darkness as the Warpfire Dragon drowned out the sun. Though the Dwarfs fought valiantly, the Hordes of Chaos and the fury of the Warpfire Dragon could not be quelled. The Dwarfs were slaughtered and the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, the capital of King Rodin Grudge-Eraser’s campaign of retribution and major port of the Old World fell to the Lord of the End Times.
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (August 2012)
Furious with his defeat and leg injury at the hands of the Dwarf King, Morhog Da Mighty launched an attack against an expedition force of Dwarfs led by the stoic Runesmith, Erik Wildstrider. Wildstrider and his Dwarfs were fortifying the small village of Dwariheim when the relentless host of Black Orcs and Chaos Dwarfs completely surround the village, pillaging and razing it to the ground as the vastly outnumbered Dwarfs fled for their lives.
In attempt at vengeance for his defeat at the hands of Da Spider-King, Wulfrik the Wanderer lead his warband against a small force of Goblins and Trolls under the Goblin Warlord, Sourgutt. The Goblins were no match for the martial prowess of Wulfrik’s warriors. However, with his mysterious, iron crown, Sourgutt summoned a vast comet from the heavens above, which came smashing down upon both his Goblins and Wulfrik’s Marauders. While the Goblins could suffer such casualties without dismay, the attrition to Wulfrik’s force was too great. Grom’s Goblin armies had defeated Wulfrik once again.
The Lord-Commander and Reiksmarshal of the Empire, Maximilian Arno, honoring the old alliance of Men and Dwarfs, sent an army of Men led by Captain Zachary Hasenauer to aid an army of Grudgestriker Dwarfs, commanded by the Runesmith Loki Magik-Dimmer against the invading Chaos Hordes of Archaon, the Everchosen of Chaos, in the south. During the Battle of Doom Bridge, the battle was nearly lost when the Imperial Wizard, Klauss Leben was brutally assaulted by an ancient Daemon reaching out from the Realm of Chaos as Leben employed his magic against the approaching Chaos hordes. With an unmatched force of will, Leben resisted the Daemon’s attack banishing the foul creature back from whence it came. Overwhelmed with despair and cowed by the Daemonic assault upon Leben, Hasenauer and his Talabec Guard fled the battlefield, causing much resentment from his Dwarf allies, as they shouted boisterous insults at the fleeing Imperial Captain. The Dwarf artillery saved the day as both the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch and his sorcerer apprentice were, once again, bombarded by ‘The Goblin Smasher’ stone thrower and ‘Evil’s Bane’ organ cannon. With the demise of the chaotic leaders, the remaining Men of the Empire and the Dwarfs of Clan Grudgestriker were able to pushback the onslaught of Chaos Warriors, despite Hasenauer’s cowardice.
Brimming with burning hatred as a result of numerous defeats at the hands of Runesmith Loki’s Dwarfs, the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch mercilessly assaulted the Dwarfs with renewed vigor. In the center of the melee, the two rivals, Loki and Xor’Etch, challenged each other to single combat. To the Daemon’s surprise, Loki was a fierce warrior himself, able to parry Xor’Etch’s blows, despite his daemonic strength. Though all around them, Dwarfs were being slaughtered by the blood-spilling, frenzied Chaos Warriors. Loki and his Dwarfs had met their doom or so it seemed…
Lord-Commander Maximilian Arno, at the head of an enormous contingent of Knights including the First Parade Regiment of Reiksguard Knights, led his forces to the Halfling domain of The Moot, where word was rumoured that the infernal Chaos Sorcerers, Vrokaw and Kareem, the Twin Sons of Tzeentch, a pair of abominable twin brothers who have made common cause with the Chaos Lord Goreblade Skulltaker, had brought death and ruin to the diminutive Hobbits. During the initial conflict, Vrokaw fell into a temporary coma, causing aliment to his twin via the uncanny link shared between the supernal brothers. Driving the Chaos forces from the Moot, Lord-Commander Arno pursued the fleeing twins, pushing the Chaos army further north with Arno himself cutting down the Twins’ personal standard-bearer.
Soon Vrokaw had made a speedy recovery and the Twin Sons of Tzeentch made a desperate last stand against Arno’s Imperial forces. In an exulted ritual dedicated to their master, Tzeentch, the twins summoned a massive vortex of magic and summoned the ancient Bonegrinder Giant, Khonaan from its ageless slumber. The great magical storm, however, also awoke Khonaan’s ancient rival – the legendary Bonegrinder Giant, Mang. The two huge behemoths clashed like thunder in the center of the battlefield. With gigantic, elder trees wielded as barbarous clubs, the two titans exchanged blows that echoed across the world, bawling, breaking, and battling like the Sky-Titans of old. The clash of titans ended with the pair of Bonegrinder Giants collapsing, together, in the River Talabec. Meanwhile, the Lord-Commander single handedly slew a trio of vile Chaos Trolls and the First Parade Regiment of the Reiksguard Knights shattered the Twin’s chaotic army, not before the Twin Sons of Tzeentch made a timely escape…
Suffused with delusions of invulnerability with his recent victory over Wulfrik the Wanderer, Gitgog Da Spider-King made an uncharacteristically bold move, leading his vast horde of Goblins, along with Sourgutt’s Vile Coalition of Scum and Villainy, against the very gates of Archaon’s capital in the Badlands, Archaos – the Fortress of the Everchosen, in attempt to undermine Grom’s authority. After smashing the fortress gates asunder with the enormous battering ram the Goblins acclaimed – Grox, Madbad Zapzag, a Night Goblin Shaman, unleashed a crazed mob of cave squigs, fueled by one of the Shaman’s mushroom brews, into the gatehouse. Meanwhile, the Giants, Ol’ One Eye and Drex Da Destroya, battered the fortress walls with huge clubs. With victory close within his grasp however, Gitgog was defeated when the Chaos Lord Bael Kor riding atop a mighty Chaos Dragon appeared to relieve the besieged capital and a particularly ‘intelligent’ brood of Chaos Trolls thwarted the capture of the city’s gatehouse from the Goblins and Squigs. The Spider-King escaped, however, and is already brewing and plotting his next scheme…
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE (April 2013)
A NEW THREAT EMERGES
From out of the howling wastes, in the north, a new power was rising. Tharthrog Leadgut, the Maw-Tyrant, and his tribe of mercenary Ogres, known as the Leadguts, had entered the conflict in the Old World to pillage, plunder, rape and devour. After months of battle against tribes of barbarous North-Men, savage Beastmen and constant ambush from monstrous beasts throughout the wastes, the Ogres were exhausted, but even more so – hungry! The Leadgut tribe immediate took camp at an apparently abandoned Imperial mine, where Tharthrog would secure wealth to expand a new Ogre Kingdom in the heart of the Old World!
As the Leadguts began moving deeper into Imperial lands however, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno immediate met this new threat while on patrol with the First Parade Company hunting for Chaos renegades. An Ogre’s appetite is never sated and so the Leadguts were thrilled at the chance to squash open these ‘tin-canned hummies’ and roast them on an open fire. The Ogres fumbled the advantage to outmaneuver the army of knights when the unwashed masses of skitterish Gnoblars, attempting to avoid any and all conflict, got in the way of their corpulent masters. Scores of Gnoblars were simply trampled to death by the Ogres without much thought, which many of the Ogres found this to be very funny. A squadron of Demigryph Knights wheeled around the Ogre army’s right flank distracting several of the Ogre marauders, including the Maw-Tyrant, Tharthrog himself, for the Ogres saw the Demigryph Knights simply as a delicious and appetizing giant chickens! Tharthrog immediately set his Sabretusk pets, Hamstring and Legsnapper, upon the ‘chicken knights’. While the ferocious giant cats clawed and snapped at the Gryphons, Norbarth's Riders, a pair of Mournfang Cavalry came charging in, snorting and bellowing, and impaling the Demigryphs with their enormous tusks and skewering the knightly riders. Meanwhile Tharthrog led a huge mob of Ogres, the Gorestompers, into the heart of the Imperial lines, where the Reiksmarshal and the First Parade Company of Reiksguard Knights charged headlong into the corpulent Ogres. Lances broke on belly plates as clubs ricocheted off shinning plate mail. The Maw-Tyrant wildly swung his enchanted blade, Hero-Chewer, chomping down several valiant knights of the First Parade Company as Lord-Commander Arno challenged the massive brute, Rerolf the Mawseeker, a giant of an Ogre who carried Tharthrog’s personal banner, to single combat. Despite its massive stature and beastly strength, the Ogre was no match for the newly appointed Reiksmarshal of the Empire. Arno’s blade cut through Ogre sinew and bone like a scythe through wheat, amputating the brute’s leg! The Mawseeker collapse in defeat, for one leg was not enough to support its vast bulk!
Though the Mawseeker had been vanquished (for now), Arno and his Reiksguard were caught in a deadly pincer maneuver – Norbarth’s Riders were closing in the encumbered knights. Just as the Mournfang Cavalry were about to make impact with the knights, however, a reserve Great Cannon struck precisely where it needed, throwing the riders from their beastly mounts and saving the knights from a fatal rear charge. With the defeat of the Mawseeker, the loss of their cavalry charge and with the Imperial knights only gaining momentum, Tharthrog ordered a withdraw. Even so, with demise of so many knights, the First Parade Company could not claim victory.
CLASH OF MARSHALS
In the Badlands, black clouds blotted out the sun and high winds swept through the arid steppes. Flashes of magical lightning thundered across the skies as the armies of Archaon Everchosen and Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain met on open field. A massive stone idol, resembling that of Grom himself, came alive powered by the storming winds of magic, smashing aside a Chaotic Wyvern bound by Archaon’s cabal of Sorcerers. Meanwhile the main vanguard of Grom’s Wolf Horde charged into the thin but deadly line of Chaos Knights. Gorgog Bonechewa, an old and gnarled Goblin Warboss, and the Flea Bags, a huge mob of Goblin Wolf Riders, tore into the Chaos Knights, though could not penetrate the seemingly invincible, chaotic armour. And so, the Paunch released his pride and joy upon the Chaos Knights, the old and scaly Wyvern, Doomserpent! Swooping down to aid the Fleabags, Doomserpent loped heads off and bit through armour like hot knives into butter. Supported by the deadly Doomserpent, the Goblins defeated the Chaos Knights only to suffer the wrath of Archaon’s reserves, a crazed squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne! Meanwhile, Grom’s personal guard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters, smashed their way through the Chaos infantry tearing Chaos Warriors in two as their toxic vomit ate through thick armour. An enormous Magma Dragon soared over the battlefield, its massive presence alone nearly routing the entire Goblin horde. Only Grom’s constant yelling, bawling and dastardly threats kept his Goblins from fleeing. Even so, Gorgog and the Flea Bags turned tail and fled the field rather then face the rampaging behemoths of Skullcrushers.
As Da Rock Eaters tore a whole through the Everchosen’s army, Archaon and the Swords of Chaos, the Everchosen’s personal retinue of Chaos Knights, charged into the horde of Stone Trolls. Though the Trolls suffered great slaughter from the Lord of the End Times and his retinue, their wounds instantly healed. This was not true of the Swords of Chaos; for they were consumed by copious amounts of armour-dissolving Troll vomit, leaving Archaon to face Da Rock Eaters alone. Despite his great power, the Three Eyed King was overwhelmed by the hulking horde of Trolls and unleashed the power of U’zuhl from his daemonic sword. The fickle Daemon however struck down its master as the Trolls continued to vomit upon the mighty Chaos Everchosen. Archaon’s horde was defeated, the Everchosen himself temporarily vanquished and the ancient Armour of Morkar, the armour of the very first Chaos Everchosen, was destroyed! Grom had defeated the Chaos Everchosen and turned his attentions to the Chaos capital – Archaos…
THE RECLAIMING OF MOUNT UNGORAL
With the loss of the Dwarf Sea fortress of Barak Varr, Clan Grudgestriker’s priority was to seize new land and further fortify Dwarf lands. Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer devised a plan to capture Mount Ungoral, a small mountain at the foot of the vast mountain range of the Worlds Edge Mountains. A Chaos war host known as the Blood-Lord’s Blood Butchers of Brand the Bloody-Handed, had captured the mountain during Goreblade Skulltaker’s initial invasion south of Kislev. Unbeknownst to the Blood-Lord, however, Mount Ungoral contained an ancient and secret Dwarven outpost abandoned by the Dwarfs centuries ago after geological earthquakes crippled the old Dwarf Empire. This secret outpost was a sentinel of the Dwarf stronghold of Karak Ungor, which was overrun by greenskins thousands of years ago. King Rodin had declared the time was right to reclaim and restore the old outpost. A squadron of Gyrocopters circled the mountain and showered the Blood Butchers with fiery steam, while Loki and his throng met the Blood-Lord’s vanguard of Chaos Ogres and Khornate Berserkers in a valiant holding action. The crazed Chaos Ogres pulverized many Dwarfs, but still the Runelord and his warriors held. With the gyrocopters and warmachines of the Dwarfs annihilating the rest of the Chaos horde, Loki proved triumphant in reclaiming Mount Ungoral.
While the Dwarf King Rodin had dispatched his Runelord, Loki Magik-Dimmer, to retake the secret Dwarven outpost of Mount Ungoral, Rodin’s scouts had informed him that the main horde of Morhog Da Mighty had been sighted encamped in Dwarf lands! King Rodin ordered an immediate attack, at dawn, in attempt to take the Orcs off guard. Morhog does not sleep easily, in fact it can be properly said that Morhog Da Mighty hates sleeping altogether and was woken at the first sign of the Dwarfs sneak attack. Boisterously yelling at his boyz, Morhog hastily mustered his Orcs into ranks to meet King Rodin’s Dwarfs. A pair of monstrous Black Orc Orcadons emerged at the head of the Black Host firing a barrage of mortar shells into the Dwarf throng from evil war engines constructed by Morhog’s enthrall Chaos Dwarfs and mounted atop the backs of the Orcish beasts. Hundreds of Dwarf warriors fell by the infernal weapons of their twisted kin. When the Black Orc crew failed to properly reload the warmachines, the devices jammed and exploded causing great cheers from the Dwarf lines. The Dwarf King sent in the infamous Beer Tank directing the tank into the ranks of Gorghul the Unvanquished and his Chaos Dwarf warriors. The evil Dwarfs were mutilated and grinded beneath the tank’s wheels. Morhog was defeated once again.
OLD ENEMIES MEET FOR THE FIRST TIME
After a failed assault upon the Fortress of the Everchosen during the summer season, the vile Forest Goblin Shaman, Gitgog Da Spider King was commanded by Grom to push further north, while the Paunch personally marshaled a siege on Archaon’s capital. Heading north, Da Spider King and his host was soon met by the Dwarf King Rodin who had been in pursue of the fleeing Black Orc Warlord, Morhog, and his Orcs. Instead of finding morale-broken Orcs, however, the Dwarfs were confronted by hordes of seemingly endless Goblin infantry being driven into battle by the notorious Spider-King atop a massive Arachnarok Spider, venerated as ‘Da Great Gog’ by the Spider-worshipping greenskins. The renowned Dwarf cannon ‘Old Faithful’ incapacitated the gargantuan, eight-legged beast nearly collapsing the moral of the entire Goblin army! Using tricksy Waaagh! magic to hold his horde together and blast the Dwarfs with pure Waaagh! power, Gitgog inspired his Gobbos to continue their advance upon the Dwarf lines. The dreaded and infamous Dwarf contraption known as the Beer Tank came barreling into the Goblins horde, spraying its dread beer cannon into the congested ranks of Goblin warriors. To the tank’s misfortune, however, this attack gained the attention of the Giant, Drex Da Destroya, who happened to already be drunk and was on the prowl for more beer! As Drex smashed at the tank in attempt to crack open the beer reserves, the Dwarfs set the tank in reverse then at full speed ahead, toppling the drunken Giant! Drex collapsed, however the whole affair went foul (for the Dwarfs, anyway), when the Giant fell directly on top the Beer Tank, crushing it in a marvelous explosion of beer, blood and vomit. With the destruction of his enemy’s great weapon, Gitgog attempted to conjure the malevolent malediction of the Bad Moon to wipeout the rest of the Dwarf throng! In his moment of triumph, however, a rift into the Realm of Chaos opened sucking the shaman into the nether world! The loss of their leader was too much for the rest of the Goblins and they fled back further south. At the last moment, it is said, Gitgog was plucked into the Great Green, the shadowy, spiritual realm of the greenskins by Mork himself and has been sighted once again riding atop Da Great Gog, though, seemingly more crazed than normal…
A GAME OF PAWNS
After securing the secret Dwarf outpost of Mount Ungoral, Runelord Loki Magik-Dimmer, pursued the army of Blood-Lord Brand, only to run in to the Chaos host of Vrokaw, one of the sinister Twin Sons of Tzeentch. Vrokaw had been granted a boon from his infernal god and was gifted with a glimpse of the future. The evil Twin had been waiting for Loki and his Dwarfs and, unbeknownst to Morhog Da Mighty, Vrokaw had lured the obsessed Black Orc Warlord into pinning the Dwarfs. Just as Vrokaw had planned, the Orcs all but ignored the Chaos host, in order to smash their ancient enemies. As the two rivals advanced upon each other, the Dwarven stone thrower, ‘Gob-Smasher’ struck Morhog’s massive chariot, smashing it to smithereens and causing Morhog Da Mighty to limp about the battlefield on his wounded leg, a constant reminder of his hated foe – Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker. Howling and raving Morhog ordered his Orcs to charge into the Dwarf line when his Orcs began squabbling amongst themselves. Furious and frustrated with his bickering Orcs, Morhog charged all by himself into Loki and his guard of Longbeards known as the Old Grumblers. After smashing, slashing, bashing and breaking several Dwarf heads, Morhog became overwhelmed by the sheer, stubborn willpower of the Dwarf war veterans and fled! As the Old Grumblers attempt to pursue the hated Black Orc Chieftain, they were, in turn, charged in their flank by a bloodthirsty mob of Orcs and slaughtered to the man (Dwarf?). Loki suffered a sever head wound, but manage to escape the rampaging Orcs, though the Runelord would never fully recover – it is said that he constantly talks to himself and is extremely indecisive regarding what he eats for breakfast! The Dwarfs and Orcs had annihilated each other. Vrokaw had won a major victory for Goreblade and defeated two enemies in a single stroke without so much as lifting a sword…exactly how he had foreseen it!
MORE GRUDGES STRUCK
One of Morhog’s Black Orc lieutenants, Bagfram Da Bad, led Da Turd Mob Orcs against the Grudgestrikers. Despite being severely outnumbered by the hated stunties, Bagfram’s Orcs decimated the Dwarf Miners and Orc Arrer Boyz brought down a gyrocopter in a usual display of Orcish accuracy. Meanwhile the Orc Shaman, Dogfrag Ghostcalla enveloped in irresistible Waaagh! power, conjured the mighty Foot of Gork! The ectoplasmic green foot came smashing down upon the Dwarf ranks crushing dozens of Dwarf warriors.
The battle turned however when an infernal Hell Cannon, called ‘Destroya’ by the Orcs, supplied by Morhog’s Chaos Dwarf thralls, exploded in a massive fireball that brought fiery ruin upon the Orcs. The remaining Orcs were battered by the Dwarf’s heavy artillery and fled the field.
Fueled by frustration and rage with his defeats at the hands of the Grudgestriker Dwarfs, Morhog Da Mighty sought to regain his infamy and give a ‘good seeing to’ to anything unfortunate enough to cross the Black Orc Warlord’s path. Morhog led a massive assault upon the Tzeentch Sorcerer Vrokaw, one of the dreaded Twin Sons of Tzeentch and his Chaos warband at the Tower of Skulls. Despite constant squabbling and bickering amongst Morhog’s Hobgoblins, the Black Orcs were all but unstoppable. Ugruck Spooktalka, Morhog’s chief Shaman, summoned the awesome power of Gork. Infused with raw Waaagh! power the Orcs pumbled the ranks of Chaos Warriors. As dusk approached, Vrokaw withdrew his forces, for the boisterous Orcs were relentless in their attack. Morhog howled in triumph, rekindling confidence in his ladz.
AN UNEASY ALLIANCE
After his encounter with the Leadgut Ogre tribe, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno continued his righteous expedition to purge the armies of Chaos from the Emperor’s lands. Finally his scouts had successfully tracked the chaotic horde of Goreblade Skulltaker, Exalted Lord of Khorne. Lord ‘Goldie’, as the Imperial troops had come to call him after Balthasar Gelt temporarily transformed him into solid gold, had been found looting tombs and desolating graves. Rumor has surfaced that Goreblade sought the ancient tomb of Krell, an ancient Chaos Champion of Khorne said to still serve the Blood God in a state of Undeath.
Seeking to end the threat of Lord Skulltaker once and for all, the Reiksmarshal hired the services of Tharthrog and his Ogres. Despite his animosity with Arno, Tharthrog figured he had nothing to lose from a pact with the Reiksmarshal, gold, fresh meats and battle was exactly what his Ogres needed after all.
THE BETRAYAL AT KRELL’S CRYPT
Consumed with his quest to find Krell, Goreblade Skulltaker was caught completely unawares. Surrounded by Imperial Knights and brutal Ogres, Goreblade’s army was at the receiving end of a perfectly executed pincer assault! The Chaos host was surrounded and outnumbered; even so, Lord Skulltaker whipped his warriors into an enraged frenzy, fiercely engaging Arno’s First Parade Regiment of Reiksguard Knights. The venerable Steam Tank, Sigmar’s Favour, and a regiment of Imperial Halberdiers, the Fighting Twin-Tails, held off the Chaos cavalry while Tharthrog the Maw-Tyrant and his Ironguts – Morgang’s Bashers – shattered the remaining lines of Chaos Warriors. Tharthrog met the challenge of an overconfident Champion of Khorne, and snapped the spinal cord of the doomed champion. Attempting in support the Ogre hordes with augmenting Maw Magic, the great Slaughtermaster, Nerfug Elfchewer, fouled his victuals and was nearly sucked in the Realm of Chaos. With his army in ruins, Goreblade and the remnants of his army fled.
Tharthrog bawled at his Ogres to immediately secure their battle lines. It is unclear what happened next, but soon Ogres and Knights were engaged in vicious combat. Tharthrog bellowed in frustration and the Reiksmarshal was heard disgustedly muttering something about honour. As the battle lines of the two ‘allied’ forces arranged themselves for further conflict, it was the Maw-Tyrant who bellowed forth a ‘truce’ in broken man-speech, for Tharthrog knew he could not afford to suffer further losses. The two armies of Men and Ogre parted, but this bitter encounter would not be forgotten, nor, perhaps, forgiven…
THE SIEGE OF ARCHAOS
After defeating the armies of the Everchosen upon open field, Grom the Paunch had set his sights upon the massive Fortress of the Everchosen, Archaos, the capital of Archaon’s new realm. Along with his lieutenant, Sourgut, a most vile Goblin Warboss with an enchanted crown that seemingly grants him magical powers, Grom assaulted the mighty, black fortress with two huge broods of Trolls – Da War Trolls of da Misty Mountains and Da Rock Eaters. As the Trolls smashed at the fortress’s gates, Goblins archers on wolfback rained barbed arrows at the Chaos Warriors manning the ramparts. Victory was within Grom’s grasp when a legion of monstrous Slaughterbrutes appeared to relieve the besieged capital. Ranting and raving, Grom was forced to withdraw.
Furious with defeat when his moment of triumph was at hand, the Paunch hastily and recklessly regrouped his horde and immediately ordered a new assault upon the Chaos capital. Though Da Rock Eaters destroyed the black gate and captured the gatehouse, once again the massive Slaughterbrutes were released from hidden portals and broke the sieging Goblins. The Paunch was restrained by a mob of his own Goblins, who dragged him from the field as a hasty retreat was ordered, all the while Grom bellowed and howled for his army to hold to no avail. Archaos had held once again.
THE THING IN THE WOODS
The Chaos host under the fell Daemon Prince Xor’Etch had been cut off from the rest of Archaon’s forces and surrounded by the Empires of Men and Dwarfs. The task was placed upon the Dwarf Runesmith, Erik Wildstrider, to rid the lands from the taint of Xor’Etch and eliminate a very great threat to the Dwarf Empire. Erik was unusual for a Dwarf, for he found comfort amongst the green forests of the surface rather than the gloomy mountain strongholds preferred by his kin. The Forest of Drazul was been corrupted and sickened by Xor’Etch and his minions and so it was with great pride that Erik Wildstrider led an army of his kin to oust the unholy invaders.
Though outnumbered by the foul horde, Erik’s Dwarfs seized the initiative and immediately took the fight to the Chaos host. Early in the battle, the Dwarf cannon, ‘Stonetop’s Eight Pounder’, stuck down the infernal Daemon Prince in one lucky strike! With their Daemonic general vanquished, s huge Troll King took command of the Chaos Horde, leading a head on assault into the Dwarf gun line. Wildstrider’s Dwarf warriors heroically defeated the Trolls, though the vile Troll King escaped. The Dwarfs had succeeded in driving out the chaotic invaders. It is rumoured the Xor’Etch has survived, though his injury has sapped much of his strength.
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE SCREECHING EAGLE
As the harsh winter all but cripples the various empires of the Old World, leaders strengthen their armies and fortify their lands for the coming spring. In a devilish game of politics, Captain Schein of the Imperial Courts had seeded agents within the Halfling domain of the Moot. For months, Schein’s upstarts have spread appalling propaganda throughout the Moot claiming the Halflings suffer only for the ‘Emperor’s unnecessary wars’ and that the Emperor is, in truth, in league with the servants of Chaos. Implored and manipulated by Schein’s agents, the Halfling Elder, William Plumpkin – Chief Burgomaster of the Moot, has declared the Moot’s succession from the Empire of Men.
Meanwhile an elite taskforce of Reiksguard, known as Squadron 31, infiltrated the captured halls of Barak Varr and ousted the Chaos forces within the Sea Fortress through the stratagems of espionage, sabotage and assassination! Elsewhere, in his golden-framed bed within the Imperial capital, the Emperor Karl Franz continues to rot with an unnatural sickness…
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR II – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (October 2013)
MIGHTY REINFORCEMENTS
A mighty bellow echoed across the lands of the Old World as Tharthrog’s Ogre reinforcements arrived from the Ogre Kingdoms in the east. Thurag Leadbelly had heeded the call to his master, the ferocious Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut, and fought his way through the blighted Dark Lands along with his small tribe of Ogre mercenaries. The Ogres that had survived the perilous march were the meanest and most maw-driven of Thurag’s boyz – and those were the only Bulls that mattered, for the Ogres that could not survive the long trek to the west were as good as a mob of crippled Gnoblars (in the eyes of Thurag anyway). With reinforcements at hand, Tharthrog was already feeling a bit bolder in the unfamiliar lands of the Old World, and soon the realms of the west would quench his thirst to devour those that opposed him…
THE MOOT IN FLAMES!
Deceived into a hasty decision to succeed from the ‘warmongering’ Empire of Men based on fraud and propaganda, William Plumpkin, Chief Burgomaster and Elder of the Moot, had called for the Emperor’s forces to leave the boarders of the Halfling domain. Acting with the authority of the Emperor, Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno ordered the withdraw of all Imperial troops from the Moot – the Halflings would have to fend for themselves. Upon the departure of the State Troops, Plumpkin immediately mustered the Pancake Militia, the Moot’s own standing army. The defense of the Moot would now rely solely upon Halfling spear and bow. To his great regret, however, Plumpkin found the Halfling soldiery to be inadequate and incompetent. The Pancake Militia had become unsuited for proper warfare and had been spoiled with one too many honey cakes over the proceeding decades. The unfit Hobbits were bloated from vast consumptions of berry-bog wine, cream tarts and pudding pies. The Moot standing army was certainly no match for the depredations of Goreblade Skulltaker and his Khornate legions or Tharthrog Leadgut and his Ogre Marauders who had crossed the mountains to pillage the Empire. The rash Halfling leader had been deceived and manipulated by the Imperial Captain Schein’s charismatic words. The reason for this treachery and deception remain an enigma, but the now former-Elector of the Empire vowed to make amends with the Emperor and repair the damage he had done by declaring succession.
The Elder of the Moot called for an emergency meeting with all the local mayors, sheriffs and town administrators. Just before Plumpkin could veto his own writ of succession from the Emperor, however, a god-like champion like no other, gleaming in golden armour, strode into the town hall. All of the Moot’s assembled leaders reared their heads to the interloper clad in gold. Such was this champion’s prestige and magnanimity, that those who laid eyes upon him could not turn away from him, even if they wanted to! Where his piercing, blue eyes gazed, the assembled Halflings fell to their knees in praise of such an exalted being. An aura of ecstasy and serenity took hold of all those graced by his mere presence. And when the man in golden armour spoke, the Halflings listened. The Hobbits could not refuse his demands, even if they wanted to, for the man in gold was the favoured of Slaanesh and a sterling symbol of perfection incarnate. Prince Sigvald, the Magnificent, had seized the Moot with but a mere word.
When word reached the surrounding kingdoms of the villain that had commandeered the Moot, an alliance of Dwarfs and Men mustered before the newly constructed, mystical walls that now surrounded the Moot. Imperial Commander Grieshof and the Dwarf Runesmith Erik Wildstrider swore great oaths together that the vile Prince of Slaanesh would meet his doom by their hand. A huge battery of cannons pounded the wall and gates of the Moot, decimating entire regiments of Chaos Warriors and breaching the massive stonewalls. Standing atop the ramparts of the gatehouse, Sigvald the Magnificent stood in defiance of the lesser races that defied his new reign. Illuminated with a brilliant aura of radiance, Prince Sigvald became in instant target for the enemy siege engines. Yet, the Magnificent merely laughed as cannon balls bounced off his golden armour. Any wounds suffer by Sigvald immediately healed – for he was the Chosen of Slaanesh.
Atop a mighty Imperial siege tower, Commander Grieshof, and his household guard, ‘Grieshof’s Cleavers’, led the charge against the chaotic fortress. Balthasar Gelt, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, circled the fortress atop his Pegasus, Pandora, transmutating Chaos Warriors to solid gold and turning the iron armour of the enemy into lead. The legendary Gotrek Gurnisson and his companion Felix Jaeger, took the eastern wall themselves. When a massive Dragon Ogre Shaggoth blocked their path, Gotrek hacked it in two with a single, strapping sweep of his rune axe. Grieshof and his Cleavers clashed with Prince Sigvald and his personal retinue of Slaaneshi warriors atop the gatehouse. The Prince made a mocking solute with his blade at the Imperial Commander before hacking away at the Imperial soldiery. The Magnificent moved with the speed and grace of an Elf, each sweep of his blade was made with a fierce elegance, and wherever Sigvald’s blade fell, death followed. Such was the Magnificent’s hubris he fought with one hand behind his back, wickedly laughing and taunting the Imperial troops as he slit their throats and cleaved their limbs. Eventually, however, the Forces of Chaos were defeated. Sigvald’s entire army had been decimated, every warrior slain. As for Prince Sigvald himself, he merely sneered and shrugged before escaping into the nightly gloom.
Honoring old oaths sworn by Sigmar himself and in appreciation of their aid, the Empire relinquished control of the great Sea Fortress of Barak Varr to the Dwarfs, which had been liberated from the Lord Archaon over the winter. The Empire of Men and the Dwarfs of the Karaz Ankor had renewed their ancient alliance.
BLOOD IN THE VAULTS
At the foot of the Vaults, a mountain range connected to the northern Grey Mountains, Loki Magik-Dimmer and his Clan Dwarfs encountered the Daemon Prince Xor’Etch and his foul minions of Chaos. Accompanied by Gunnisson Honorbearer, the Hold’s righteous standard-bearer, Loki advanced across the field of battle with his honor guard of Hammers. In the center of the field a huge melee took place as the Hammers clashed with a horde of vile Chaos Trolls, led by the notorious Troll King – Throgg! The Trolls tore at the proud Dwarf warriors like starving cannibals, as the mighty Hammers bashed Troll hide and head with their warhammers. Where the Dwarf warriors succumbed to their wounds, the Trolls did not. Their regenerating flesh reknit, closing gaping wounds and the Trolls fought on undeterred. As Throgg spewed forth a most heinous retch of rancid puke upon the Dwarfs, one of the Hammers struck the massive Troll King square in the forehead with his rune-etched hammer, breaking the massive tusk where rested the Troll King’s own crown. The mighty Throgg fell.
As the battle raged on around them, the Trolls, in a bizarre, enthusiastic display of revenge for their king’s demise, assailed the Dwarfs in a relentless rage. Loki, Gunnisson and the entire honor guard were swept aside before them. Loki’s own rune-armour, an ancient heirloom in his clan for generations, was completely disintegrated by Troll vomit, causing Loki to swear upon the honour of his entire clan to bring about retribution – the demise of all Trolls! Both sides suffered such heavy casualties that none could claim solid victory.
BIRTH OF A DAEMON
At the Battle of the Blood Alter, Goreblade Skulltaker and his legion of Khorne warriors met the First Parade Company of the Empire, led by Reiksmarshal Arno himself, in an enormous battle the shook the lands for a hundred leagues around them. The Skullchrushers of Khorne cut a bloody swathe of red ruin across the Imperial army. Such was this great slaughter that after personally beheading several Imperial Sergeants, Goreblade Skulltaker gained the ire of Khorne himself! Pleased with the great slaughter of the feeble Men of Sigmar, Khorne bestowed his boon upon his proud champion. In an instant, Goreblade’s flesh turned black, cracking apart to reveal a shiny, daemonic hide brimming with the radiance of Chaos. Massive horns, black as midnight, erupted from his forehead and a pair of giant, bat-like, wings jutted from his shoulder blades. The Khorne Lord’s eyes narrowed into evil, daemonic slits, and his voice amplified with a dreadful tang, as if belonging to an ancient horror from the abyss. Goreblade Skulltaker, Chaos Lord of Khorne had been elevated to daemonhood. The massive Daemon Prince of Khorne bellowed a triumphant howl that shimmered across the battlefield. The Reiksmarshal sounded a retreat before the newly born Daemon Prince could unleash its full fury.
UNKNOWING ODDS
The Dwarf King Rodin, looking to press an advantage against the forces of the Everchosen, ambushed a small Chaos warband trespassing upon Dwarven domains. However, what seemed to be a small force of Chaos worshippers was in fact merely the vanguard to the enormous Chaos Horde of Archaon, Chosen of the Chaos Gods! Although astonished by the sheer size of Archaon’s Horde, the Dwarf King marched forward defiantly at the head of his personal guard. Where the Dwarf King and his Hammers strode, all marauders, mutants and monsters in his path were smashed aside, including the great Shaggoth, Throtgore, who King Rodin personally put out of its misery with his rune-hammer. Although the Everchosen did not meet the Dwarf King amidst the field of battle, Archaon and his Swords of Chaos circled around the great Throng of Dwarfs, annihilating all Dwarfs before them and ultimately forcing the Dwarf King to withdraw. The pages of the King’s book of grudges continue to swell with the blasphemous name: Archaon.
THE MAWSEEKER’S TRIUMPH
Hungry for more man flesh, the Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut, lead his Ogre marauders, once again, to defile Imperial lands. Lord Commander Arno met the obese Ogres upon his hasty retreat from the Khorne Legions of Goreblade Skulltaker. As Arno and his Rieksguard Knights broke the Ogre hordes, the massive brute known as the Mawseeker, single-handedly halted the advance of the Imperial Knights. Seeing the corpulent colossal of an Ogre waving their chieftain’s standard and tearing off limbs of knights in shinning armour with nothing but his massive maw, the Ogres rallied – for the Great Maw surely favoured the relentless Mawseeker! The Reiksmarshal and his knights were soon overwhelmed and severally beaten back by the raptured Ogres. As the Lord Commander was forced into a tactical withdraw, Tharthrog and his Ogres feasted upon the remains of his men.
THE GREEN MENACE
While the empires of Men and Dwarfs deal with the threat of multiple Chaos incursions and marauding Ogres. The rumours of the return of the notorious Goblin King, Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain, become a matter-of-fact reality! Sweeping through the Badlands and the southern Worlds Edge Mountains, the seemingly endless tides of Goblins advanced into the fray in the north.
The chaotic renegade Wulfrik, a potent Chaos Chieftain, who has come to despise the Goblins and their ilk after numerous defeats met the Wolf Riding vanguard of the Grom’s armies led by Grom himself – a horde of a thousand, thousand wolf riders and backed by squadrons of wolf-drawn chariots. Outmaneuvered and outnumbered by the vast horde, Wulfrik was no match for the Goblins. The Paunch himself, bawling and farting atop his huge chariot, charged into Scyla Anfingrimm, a once-mighty Champion of Khorne so booned with gifts of his Blood God he had devolved into a mindless Spawn of Chaos. Grom’s chariot smashed into the beast, toppling the monster to the ground. Chopping through Scyla’s thick, scaly hide with his mighty axe, Elf Biter, Grom put the foul thing out of its misery before it could even strike back. Just before making a hasty retreat, Wulfrik cut down the Goblin Shaman, Zappgit, in a ferocious display of vengeance and hatred. The shaman miraculously survived, but no longer seems quite right (not that he was right beforehand) and now suffers from a chronic case of talking to himself in a myriad of voices.
The walled town of Ginshiem was razed to the ground, with every man, woman and child slaughter for Khorne by the ferocious Blood-Lord Brand, the Bloody-Handed and his Khornate-worshipping warriors. Soon after the Goblin host of the deadly Spider-King, Gitgog, arrived. Vastly outnumbered by the Goblins, the Blood-Lord’s warriors took refuge within the ruined village they had just razed in the name of the Blood God. Atop the Great Gog, the gigantic Arachnarok Spider, Gitgog unleashed bolts of green lightning upon the Chaos Warriors, while Doom Divers rained down upon the ruined townhouses. The warriors were all but helpless against the onslaught of missile fire and magic. As the Blood-Lord fled, the Spider-King immediately pursued the remains of the Khornate warband further north.
THE SIEGE OF SLAUGHTERLOO
In attempt to gain a secure foothold in the mountains, Tharthrog’s lieutenant, Thurag Leadbelly, boldly assaulted the chaotic city of Slaughterloo, the dread fortress-capital of Goreblade Skulltaker, newly exalted Daemon Prince of Khorne. The walls of the cursed stronghold wailed and moaned as daemonic faces seemingly imbedded within the city walls leered and taunted at the advancing Ogres. As the Bulls assaulted the chaotic walls of the city, a huge Stonehorn pounded the city’s gates with its massive mountain-stone, horned forehead. At the moment of Thurag’s triumph however, a relief force of Khorne Skullcrushers came charging through the mountain pass. Unprepared for such potent reserves, the Ogre horde’s moral broke. The capital of Goreblade had endured.
THE MISSING TWIN
Meanwhile, Kareem Mustafa, the Bane of Araby and one-half of the Twins Sons of Tzeentch, searches for his captured twin brother. The Tzeentchian Sorcerer Vrokaw had been defeated and captured by the Imperial forces of Commander Grieshof, only to have been discovered missing shortly after the battle. Grieshof immediately dispatched search parties to hunt down the wicked Son of Tzeentch and had set a bounty of one hundred gold crowns upon the sorcerer’s head. Scrying into the ancient Mirror of Infinities, Kareem, however, has learned his brother is, in truth, at the mercy of Barnabas Schein – a ruthless and egotistical Captain of the Empire. Stole away in a remote dungeon of sorts, Captain Schein has plans of his own for the fallen Chaos Sorcerer…
THE GREAT WALL OF GORK
Morkwart Gutwarp, a potent Goblin Shaman and self-proclaimed ‘Prophet of Mork’, once ridiculed by Grom as a fraud, has proved himself a worthy vassal of the greenskin deities. Morkwart has acquired several lost artifacts of the goblinoids and presented them to Grom as a sign of his king’s great fortune and destiny to usher the world into a new era – the Age of the Goblin! The fabled Armour of Gork, Mork’s War Banner and the Battle Axe of the Last Waaagh! have all be retrieved by Morkwart Gutwarp, surely a sign that Grom is favoured by his gods. At the same time, Grom’s Goblins have completed ‘the Great Wall of Gork,’ a massive line of connected fortresses that stretch across the Badlands through the southern Worlds Edge Mountains. Such an omen can only spell doom for the realms of Men, Dwarfs and Elves…And in the huge Orc fortress of Thunder Mountain, Morhog the Mighty, the fiercest Black Orc Warboss of the age, once again musters his Black Legions of Orcs and Chaos Dwarf Thralls to strike and stomp his hated enemies…
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (April 2014)
FOREBODING DREAMS
As spring had fully blossomed into summer, the aptitude of the Elves of Athel Loren was at its zenith. At their yearly height of power however, all was not as it should be. Chaotic Beastmen grew bolder, interloping into the forest realm more frequently than ever before and tribes of Forest Goblins had been found breeding their bulbous spiders in the darker places of the woods. Word of a terrible war that had touched nearly all the lands of the Old World had reached the pointed-ears of Ariel and Orion, the Queen and King of the Wood. It had been decided to leave the enemies of Order for the realms of Men and Dwarfs to deal with, for the Wood Elves would only defend their own realm of Athel Loren. The fate of mankind was of no concern to the Wood Elves. The goblinoid hordes, said to be united under two potent warlords, had spread throughout the Badlands like a relentless epidemic threating the Empire with its dying Emperor and all of civilization. The forces of Chaos under the appointed ‘Everchosen’ of the Chaos gods had begun his invasion from, seemingly both the North and South. Even so, darker rumours had surfaced.
One foul night, the Mage Queen Ariel was visited by malevolent visions. A shadow consumed Athel Loren, as well as the entire world. See saw an evil crown and a legion of darkness. Her kin were dead, but not, and the world groveled before a dreadful, omnipotent lord. When Ariel awoke, a visage of terror spoiled her angelic face and she could only muttered the words ‘Death Has Risen.’ Ariel’s handmaiden and apprentice, Yenayla Sunweaver, used her magic in attempt to break her Queen’s mysterious trance, but to no avail. King Orion called for the Great Council to convene in the King’s Glade to discuss the Queen’s illness. After long hours of debate, the King in the Woods declared that no elf would leave the boarders of Athel Loren until the Queen had recovered.
Yenayla opposed the decision of the council; indeed her self-righteousness had defied the Great Council on prior occasions. Ignoring her king’s command, Yenayla, accompanied by her foxlike familiar, Niley, assembled a small host – those loyal to Queen Ariel above all else – and marched from Athel Loren under a spell of concealment. Yenayla would find the answers of her Queen’s apparent hexed-condition and protect her realm from this growing evil or die in attempt!
THE GREEN CONFEDERACY
The Orc and Goblin warlords, Morhog the Mighty and Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain, made an uneasy alliance combining their goblinoids into a single, unstoppable Waaagh! The united Green Tides marched further north overwhelming and annihilating anyone who resisted the goblinoid hordes. Tharthrog Leadgut and his Indomitable Leadguts met one of the combined banners of greenskins upon ground sacred to that of the Great Maw, the voracious Ogre deity. The Greenskins led by Morhog the Mighty himself and the sinister Spider-king, Gitgog, surrounded the Leadgut Ogres in a deadly pincher assault. Such was the bellicose excitement of the assembled Orcs and Goblins that the battlefield resonated with overwhelming amounts of raw Waaagh! energy, manifested by the enthusiastic greenskins. So great was this vigor of the Waaagh! that the greenskin shamans could not even control its destructive power. Green lightning raced across the battlefield like a torrential storm, causing havoc upon both the greenskins and the Ogres. The head of Ugruck Spooktalka, Morhog’s chief shaman, exploded in a ghastly mess of green innards when the shaman failed to properly manipulate the Waaagh! energy. The Black Orcs, however, reveling under the intensity of the Waaagh!, surged forwards to meet Tharthrog and his Irongut guard known as Morgang’s Bashers. The corpulent Ironguts and Morhog’s Black Orcs were evenly matched as the two shock elites slugged their gore-covered blades to a bloody stalemate. It was only when the Giants, Ol’ One Eye and Drex the Destroyer, charged into the fray that Tharthrog was defeated and forced to withdraw.
With his ego (and appetite) bruised, Tharthrog sent his Gnoblar messenger, Snotrag, upon his Sabretusk, Legsnapper, to the Blood Fortress of Slaughterloo, where his Slaughtermaster Erag Steelbelly had been camped while sieging the immense Khornate capital. Tharthrog ordered Erag to withdraw immediately, for the upstart Orc Warlord Morhog was a rising threat that needed to be dealt with and hastily devoured. Erag ordered his Ogres to forgo the siege and headed south to find the Black Orc Warlord with intent to feed Morhog to the Great Maw.
With the Ogres apparently abandoning their siege, Goreblade Skulltaker along with his new and mysterious alley, the Necromancer Garak Craine, were allowed to freely resume their search for the legendary Tomb of Krell.
THE DEFENSE OF BARAK VARR
Archaon, the Everchosen of Chaos, determined to recapture the ancient Dwarf hold of Barak Varr, made a pact with Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain in order to retake the Dwarf Sea Fortress. Grom agreed to the factitious alliance by sending a horde of Goblins led by Gitilla da Hunter and Grom’s own personal guard of Stone Trolls – Da Rockeaters. Together the forces of the Everchosen and the Goblins assaulted the hated Dwarven capital. King Rodin stood defiantly upon the ramparts, his bodyguard of Hammers besides him, and waited for the denizens of Chaos to begin their assault upon the ancient Dwarf hold. The Sea Fortress had been captured only once during the long millennia, by Archaon himself, but only temporarily. Thanks to the Reiksmarshal Maximilian Arno and Empire of Men, the hold’s rightful owners – the Dwarfs of Karak Ankor – had reclaimed the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, and Rodin swore by Grungi that Barak Varr would never fall again.
Without Grom’s presence on the field of battle, the Goblin ranks were quickly overcome by their innate bickering. Gitilla himself, in an effort to prove himself ‘da best,’ foolishly lead the initial assault against the Dwarf Hold, which resulted in disaster for the Goblins. Seeing ‘da great’ and crazed Gitilla apparently fall early in the battler, the Goblins fled. Dwarf artillery pummeled the ranks of Chaos Warriors advancing upon the fortress but the will of the Everchosen held the horde together. No matter how many warriors fell to the ballistics of the Dwarfs, the Chaos horde continued its relentless, ruthless advance. Archaon led his retinue of Chosen Warriors in assaulting the gatehouse where King Rodin and his Hammerers awaited their chaotic foes. A hidden muzzle just above the gate fired a blast of burning soot, melting through Chaos armour, bone and flesh alike. Still Archaon led on and as the Chosen Warriors, scaling iron ladders, appeared at the tops on the ramparts a bloody battle ensued as the Dwarf King’s Hammers smashed into the emerging Chaos Warriors. The denizens of Chaos continued to assault the walls despite their losses until only the Lord of the End Times himself remained. Unleashing the power of the Daemon-sword, the Slayer of Kings, Archaon singlehandedly slaughtered Dwarf after Dwarf in a dark fury akin to that of a mighty Daemon. Finally, the Dwarf warriors converged upon the Chaos Lord at once and while King Rodin locked his rune-hammer with the Slayer of Kings, Rodin’s guard drove Archaon over the parapet sending the Lord of the End Times falling to the uncaring ground below. Barak Varr had once again held against the forces of Chaos.
A FOREST OF FOES
West of Barak Varr, a mysterious forest appeared from seemingly thin air, suspicious Dwarf rangers immediately suspected Elven trickery for the mere sight of the forest dwelling stirred ancient grudges within their unforgiving hearts. The Forest Stalkers of Yenayla Sunweaver had arrived for their own mysterious reasons. Several of their ancient waystones, monoliths of vast magical power, which disrupt the winds of magic and assist in containing the denizens of the Realm of Chaos, had been desecrated by the constant war engulfing the continent and Yenayla saw fit to restore and secure the magical monuments, for such ruin could only hasten the coming evil. The Daemon Prince Xor’Etch intended to glean the magic within the waystone to make itself invincible. An assemble alliance of Men and Dwarfs soon arrived and although they knew not of the Daemon’s plan, they knew the forces of Chaos must be defeated. While Yenayla was fully aware of Xor’Etch’s plot to siphon the magic of waystones, she recognized that Men and Dwarfs could not be trusted either; their greed was just as deadly as the Daemon Prince’s evil. And so commenced a titanic battle of Men, Dwarfs, Elves and the forces of Chaos – the Battle of Gambit’s Bluff.
King Rodin and his royal Dwarfs had marched from Barak Varr in order to personally investigate the sightings of the Elves; as the choleric Dwarf King had grumbled ‘there is nothing as sure in the world as the glitter of gold and the treachery of Elves!’ It was the Wood Elves, however, who took first blood from the chaotic host as volleys of arrows showered the Chaos horde. Seeing the Elves attack the common enemy satisfied Rodin (to a point) and the Dwarf King ordered his own warriors to attack the Chaos host, though ever watchful of Elven double-dealing. Yenayla and her Elves seemed to be everywhere upon the battlefield. One moment the Wood Elves could be seen beheading Chaos Hounds with their elegant blades and the next they would appear far from the confines of the melee, shooting down their enemies from the sanctuary of the woods. The Elves eventually turned their hit and run tactics upon the Dwarfs and Men; their intent could not be conceived by the notions of Men and Dwarfs. When King Rodin’s retinue of Hammers threaten the Elven battle line, Yenayla used her magic to open a vast rift upon the ground beneath them, causing many of the King’s Guard to be swallowed by the earth itself. When the Chaos horde and the Dwarfs finally clashed in the center of the field, Yenayla’s Elves managed to locate the waystones and cloak the potent monuments with deceptive magics; such was the strength of the enchantments that even unnatural, Daemon sight would be able to detect the waystones. With their mission accomplished, the Elves melted back into the forest, while their enemies battled, fruitlessly, on.
CHAOS RISING
With armies of Orcs and Goblins invading into Dwarven territory, Archaon the Everchosen and his Hordes of Chaos joined the greenskins at the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand. There, Archaon led the vanguard of the horde, and not waiting for the Goblins to advance, swiftly and relentless tore into the Dwarf’s who were making a desperate last stand. Runelord Rumphle Runestirker, having recently crafted a potent rune akin to the ancient Dwarf runes of Old, released the power of the ancients upon his foes by striking the great Anvil of Doom. Bolts of ancient power were unleashed upon the Chaos host striking a huge squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne. As the smoke cleared, however, the Skullcrushers emerged unscathed charging ferociously into the Dwarf battle lines. Still enraged by his recent defeat at Barak Varr, Archaon swore upon his foul gods that he would bathe in the blood of all his enemies. And so the dark powers of Chaos were appeased or so it seemed. During the height of the battle, surrounded by piles of mangled Dwarf warriors, Archaon unleashed a bloodcurdling roar as his armour cracked and his flesh turned black. The Lord of the End times swelled in proportions until finally fully transformed into a massive, daemonic form radiating with chaotic, inferno energy. The Chaos Gods had elevated their favoured Champion to Daemonhood. The remaining Dwarfs were no match for the augmented Everchosen who went on slaughtering all in his path before the greenskins could even reach the Dwarf battle line.
THE MUD FLATS
Morhog rendezvous with Grom’s Goblins at the Dead Plains; where together the two green hordes united as one and marched further north with intent to bring the Empire of Men to ruin. At the Battle of the Mud Flats, the greenskins met a huge army of Dwarfs. At the same time Erag Steelbelly and his Ogres arrived determined to find and personally slay (and personally eat) Morhog the Mighty. The Dwarf line led by Loki Magic-Dimmer marched forward in a seemingly irresistible shield wall to smash their hated enemies. Although the greenskins outnumbered the Dwarfs, the foul goblinoids could not break the shield wall of the Dwarfs and were slaughtered as the greenskins were repelled by the invulnerable Dwarf formation. A huge Idol of Gork (or possibly Mork) erected by Morhog’s boyz and animated by Orcish magic spearheaded the charge into a massive formation of Ogre Bulls. As the stone behemoth swept its mighty rock-limbs through the Ogres ranks, Erag, calling upon the Great Maw, infused the Bulls with gut magic, increasing their already bulky stature in both sinew and girth. With their enhanced stamina and strength, the Ogres brought down the gigantic, Orcish titian. A huge horde of Goblin Wolfriders circled around Loki’s shield wall, charging them in their vulnerable flank. Yet, the fuming Dwarfs cleaved through the Goblins and their Giant Wolves all the same. Motivated by the presence of Grom himself, Slagrot Spida-Eyes riding his pet spider, Creep, howled a fierce battle-cry as he led a pair of Gigantic Spiders, charging into the Dwarf wall. Slagrot was quickly silenced as the huge Spiders were hacked to pieces and Slagrot himself was thrown from Creep. Atop his double-decker chariot, Grom yelled and cursed at his Gobbos to squash the ‘stunties’ to no avail. When a Dwarf Engineer spied the obese Goblin King atop his chariot, he ordered his cannon crew to fire upon the Goblin King. The wooden chariot exploded in a hail of splinters and matted wolf-fur, collapsing in a thunderous roar and burying Grom beneath the rubble.
Morhog roared with laughter at Grom’s demise and, with intent of both winning the battle and usurping the entire green horde, led his boyz in a furious charge to defeat the Dwarfs and Ogres without Grom’s help. Despite his mighty stature and hatred of the Dwarfs, Morhog, nor his boyz, could crack the Dwarf shield wall. The Dwarfs were relentless in their own fury and slaughtered the Orcs under their great axes and hammers. Morhog was pushed back and as he howled at his fleeing warriors to stand and fight, a creature of massive proportions appeared behind the greenskin lines. The goblinoids had disturbed the lair of an enormous Dread Saurian, and its vexation was unleashed upon the greenskins with primordial rage. It lashed out at the disrupted Orcs with a large, toothy maw, chopping and swallowing entire Orcs whole. Admitting defeat, Morhog could do nothing but shrug before fleeing from the battle himself.
While Morhog abandoned his army and fled for the hills, Grom emerged from the ruins of his destroyed chariot. Seeing the mighty Paunch rise from his seemingly demise, the remaining horde flocked to his side. The Goblins then made a hasty withdraw, in good order, as the stout Dwarfs of Chaos, in service to Morhog’s Orcs, stubbornly refused to flee in a last stand holding action, inadvertedly providing the Goblins the opportunity to escape. Loki’s Grudgestriking Dwarfs and the monstrous Dread Saurian encircled the remaining Chaos Dwarf thralls, utterly destroying the servants of Morhog in retribution of their abominable existence.
THE TOMB OF KRELL
Goreblade Skulltaker, Exalted of Khorne had been rumoured to be licking his wounds back at his capital of Slaughterloo after numerous defeats. In truth, with the help of the Necromancer Garak Craine, Goreblade had become obsessed with finding the ancient crypt of Krell, a once-undefeatable champion of Khorne. Unbeknown to Goreblade, Krell had been resurrected by the Great Necromancer Nagash in ages past, to fight in his campaigns against the warrior-god Sigmar. Now, Goreblade had found the tomb of this ancient warrior.
To the Daemon Prince’s surprise however, Krell’s remains had not been confined to his crypt, but instead animated to un-life once again along with his own dread legion of Wights. As Krell strode forward to confront Goreblade, at the Wight King’s side was Snyder Geldwyck, another potent Lord of Undeath who had been rumoured to be regaining his strength within his ancient citadel. Geldwyck wished a parley with Goreblade, for he had a message from his master – Nagash. Geldwyck explained of the dire events that had secretly led to the resurrection of the Supreme Lord of the Undead by his most loyal servants. Ultimately, Goreblade was offered a choice: join the Undead Legions of Nagash willing, forsaking the Blood God Khorne or serve the Great Necromancer as a mindless servant. Geldwyck promised incredible rewards for choosing the boon of Nagash.
Goreblade gave his answer to the Necromancer in the form of a blood-splattering display of violence as Goreblade tore off the head of Kareem, the Tzeentchian sorcerer-twin, with his bare hands. Instantly the brass collar of Khorne around Goreblade’s neck snapped and disintegrated as the Blood God withdrew his favour from his former servant. Soon the surrounding lands shuddered at the echoing cackle of Snyder Geldwyck…
Leagues away the captured Twin Son of Tzeentch, Vrokaw, felt the death of his brother ripple through his veins, wracking the sorcerer with intense, burning convulsions. Vrokaw collapsed in the tiny confines of his magically imbued cell. Gazing upon the broken Chaos Sorcerer, Imperial Captain Schein grinned. Soon he would be able to complete the Great Ritual of Eternal Rapture…
Meanwhile and elsewhere, the Blood God Khorne rose from his Skull Throne bellowing a murderous bray. The ferocious howl resonated with a tang of rage and hate such that the entire Realm of Chaos was momentarily silenced.
THE SIMPLEST OF TRICKS
In attempt to usurp of the power of the Everchosen and prove his worth to the Gods of Chaos, the Daemon Prince, Be’lakor had used all his remaining strength from the aether in attempt to possess Archaon and attain the mantle of the Everchosen for himself. During the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand where Archaon’s lust for slaughter had been at its peak, the immaterial form of Be’lakor possessed the Everchosen’s body, seemingly morphing Archaon to Daemonhood. In truth, Archaon had not been elevated to Daemonhood, rather simply bloated by the potency of Be’lakor. The Daemon, however, could not dominate the vast will of Archaon and so the complete possession of the Everchosen was thwarted. Now the two vassals of the Chaos gods are locked in constant conflict within the body of the Everchosen, in a continuous battle for dominance. At times Archaon manages to suppress the Daemon Prince’s ambitions, while at other times Be’lakor’s will waxes, as the Everchosen’s seems to wane. If the two minds could only compromise an alliance the world would certainly fall to their ambitions, meanwhile their constant struggle for dominance wages on…
NEW NAGASHIZZAR
After his crippling defeat at the hands of the Dwarfs (with their Ogre allies) and his disunion with Grom the Paunch, Morhog returned to his fortress at Thunder Mountain. When he arrived the Black Orc Warlord found his stronghold had been commandeered and completely ossified into a fortress of bone. Skeleton warriors in the form of undead Orcs barred his entrance; Morhog easily bashed them aside for their impunity. The Black Orc Warlord was met with no further hostility, eventually finding his way to his former throne room. What he found was a horrific sight, even to a mighty Orc of Morhog’s stature. A giant, undead-thing sat upon the dais on a throne made of Orcish skulls and bones. An abomination to all living things, Nagash, Supreme Lord of the Undead gazed upon the foul Black Orc with a malevolent glare. All of Morhog’s senses were suddenly overwhelmed by a potent voice, resonating with dialect of an ancient evil. The voice spoke of the death of the Old Gods, including Morhog’s own deities of Gork and Mork. The future was nothing but the Will of Nagash the voice claimed. The Lord of Undeath gave Morhog a choice; he would serve the Great Necromancer as a mindless automaton or as one of his generals – one of the Nine Dark Lords of Nagash. Morhog’s own demands were moot. Rather than face oblivion, Morhog forsaked his own deities and swore service to the Dark Lord.
Upon Morhog’s agreement, he instantly fell into a spasm wracked with agony. His Orcy flesh melted from his bones, his armour was reinforced by ossified obsidian and his mind wiped of any true independent thought – his memories of his Orcy life became nothing but a distant echo. Morhog had fallen, not in glorious, Orcy battle, but in obedience to a vast evil. In Morhog’s place rose Morgosh the Damned, Mortach of Rancor. A burning green light illuminated from his once-Orcish eyes and with a deep bow to his new master, the Ninth Dark Lord of Nagash strode from New Nagashizzar to bring Nagash’s order to a world drowned in chaos.
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE (October 2014)
DARK DESIGNS
Captain Schein walked up the steps of the golden dais. It was time that he held his end of the bargain, for too many delays might seem like failures in the eyes of others; especially to those will little patience. What he was about to do would set events in motion, events Schein knew were far from his control.
‘Do it,’ whispered the voice, ‘do it now.’ That voice had been in Schein’s head even since he first heard it. It was a voice of confidence, calm, seduction and power all in one. When he heard the voice, Schein desired nothing else other than to listen. And now it was time to set his true master’s plan in motion.
The Golden Lion, as the Talabecland soldiers called him, reached the final step upon the dais and looked at the once-potent sorcerer before him. The broken body of Vrokaw lay before him, shackled to the sacrificial alter, unmoving, for a potent spell had ensorcelled the Tzeentchian sorcerer, completely paralyzing Vrokaw’s form, except for his eyes and ears – they had been left free to witness Schein’s triumph.
The Imperial Captain stood over the sorcerer’s broken husk and met his eyes with those of the, lone, Twin Son of Tzeentch. Schein thought he could see fear is the sorcerer’s eyes as he drew the ritual dagger and raised it high into the air, but before plunging the blade into Vrokaw’s chest, the captain bent over and whispered into the sorcerer’s ear.
‘It’s nothing personal, wizard,’ Schein snarled in amusement. ‘You simply chose the wrong god.’ It was the last thing Vrokaw heard before meeting his master in oblivion…
A NEW HOPE
As cool winds blew the dead leaves of the Drakwald Forest across the provinces of the Empire, the bell towers in Altdorf rang in celebration, for the Emperor of Men had finally stirred and emerged from his deathbed. Though not as his full virility, Karl Franz appeared to have defeated his seemingly unnatural ague. Although glad for their emperor’s restored health, his imperial attendants pleaded the emperor to stay in bed until he had fully recovered. With a wave of his hand, Franz shooed his attendants away and called for his bodyguard. Ludwig Schwarzhelm, the Emperor’s Justice was smiling for the first time in years. Schwarzhelm was a man of grim demeanor and his expressionless face caused others to immediately turn away if their eyes happened to meet, but it pleased the Old Justice to see his liege lord standing out of bed for the first time in years.
‘Ludwig,’ the Emperor commanded, ‘prepare my mount.’
‘Your mount, Sire?’ Schwarzhelm gasped, ‘but you’ve only just awoken – Reiksmarshal Arno is tending to the protection of the realm. You need rest, my lord, to recover your strength.’
‘Do as I command Ludwig, prepare my mount – I have seen what is coming, and it is time that I act. It is my duty to protect the Empire and so I shall.’
‘Of course, Sire.’ The Emperor’s Justice nodded. He might not agree with his Emperor, but he understood the Emperor’s duty. It was a common understanding between the two. ‘Deathclaw will be saddled and ready within the hour.'
‘No. Not Deathclaw.’ The Emperor replied. ‘Ready the Dragon.’
THE MAW-TOOTH
The Great Maw-Tyrant Tharthrog Leadgut had finally triumphed. After numerous failed attempts in capturing the Khornate fortress, Slaughterloo, Tharthrog and his Leadgut Ogres had managed to build a stronghold worthy of the Great Maw. It would be the capital of his new realm and a base of operations in which to launch further campaigns of turmoil in the Old World, for its location lay centrally in a strategic position. From the Maw-Tooth, which his tribe had begun to call the fortress, Tharthrog could launch an invasion at nearly any enemy he deemed necessary. The lands of Goreblade Skulltaker could easily be assailed from the Maw-Tooth, as could the Dwarven Sea Fortress of Barak Varr, the remains of Morhog Da Mighty’s domain was also in easy reach and if the arrogant man-thing, Arno, annoyed him enough, Tharthrog could bring low the provinces of the Empire. For now, though, Tharthrog needed the so-called Lord Commander and Reiksmarshal of the Empire, but the alliance was uneasy at best. It was only months ago that the two allies, Arno and Tharthrog, had meet in battle, in fact. The humans were needed more than ever now, though, for just as the final stones had been placed and the Maw-Tooth complete, a sea of Goblins mustered before its very gates. Severally outnumbered, Tharthrog was pleased to have the humans around – they were just like Gnoblars, after all, only less prone to fleeing, and they tasted much better if it came to that. If it meant some miserable man-things needed to shed blood for the preservation of the Maw-Tooth, then so it would be.
Outside the Ogryn fortress, the Goblin horde prepared for the siege, led by their king – Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Regarding Fort Maw-Tooth, Grom and Tharthrog were in agreement. The fortress’s location was tactically sound and Grom desired this citadel in order to further his campaign of destruction further north and east. From the Maw-Tooth, Grom could establish a foot hole in which to launch invasions into the heart of both the Human and Dwarf Empires. The Goblin Warlord did not wish to trifle with the Maw-Tyrant, but Tharthrog’s fortress was too important to ignore. Without the aid of the Black Orc Warlord Morhog, who apparently had fled for the hills, Grom needed to secure a stronghold in the north, else his armies might be surrounded and trapped by his numerous foes.
Targeting the war machines of Man and Ogre alike, the Goblin machineries of destruction destroyed several artillery pieces atop the castle ramparts. Vastly outnumbered and undermanned (under-ogred?) the Goblins quickly surrounded the Maw-Tooth scaling the walls with crudely built ladders. Grom rode atop a massive siege tower heaved forward by his guard of Stone Trolls, Da Rock Eaters. The combined black powder weaponry of both Man and Ogre slew scores of Goblins but not enough to break the horde and save the fortress. Grom and his Goblins quickly overran the Maw-Tooth and Tharthrog was forced to withdraw. The Maw-Tyrant would regroup with his Slaughtermaster, Erag Steelbelly, and his other war-leaders, and soon make the Goblins suffer for seizing his newly established capital.
Tharthrog roared in anger. To have lost in battle to the meager foe that were Goblin rabble was infuriating. He snatched one of the Gnoblars that scurried across his path and tossed the crying, little runt into his massive, toothy maw, as his army forced marched to meet and plan with Thurag and Erag. The sensation of the greenthing’s flesh running down to his stomach eased the tension he felt and gave him time to reflect. The battle itself wasn’t a complete loss, although having Morgang’s Bashers, his personal bodyguard, chopped down was an expensive blow. It served them right though, for their failures in securing the Maw-tooth. Looking at how Rerolf, Nerfug, Taruk, and the Gorestompers were bested by undisciplined Trolls told Tharthrog his guard would soon be replaced by Ogres made of sterner stuff. For now he would have to look forward to meeting with his war-leaders for the first time since sending out the bellow that summoned them. Looking south he saw Goblin lands that needed pillaging…
THE SECOND SIEGE OF FORT MAW-TOOTH
As Grom ordered a crudely constructed stone effigy of the Great Maw, which the Ogres had built, defiled and reshaped into his own likeness, wolf rider scouts reported the advance of a large Imperial force of Men. Valten, the Emperor’s Champion, a man with the warrior prowess and look of Sigmar himself led this army. The bleeding Empire, with a crippled emperor had been so desperate for a hero to emerge as their savor that the common folk and soldiers of the Empire had begun calling Valten the ‘Herald of Sigmar’ or even ‘Sigmar Reborn’ after Valten single-handedly saved an Imperial barracks from a Beastmen raid. The Reiksmarshal Arno, saw how the young man had inspired the troops, this combined with his exception combat prowess made Valten the perfect figurehead for the realm – a sterling symbol of the unanimity of the Empire of Men.
The recent wars had depleted many of the able leaders of the Empire. The Emperor was bed ridden, Arno’s predecessor Kurt Helborg had been slain, the Grand Theogonist Volkmar had gone missing after leading a foolish expedition into Sylvania and two of Arno’s closest friends and allies, each highly capable generals of the Empire themselves, Grand Marshal Dietrich von Norbert and Count Aldebrand Ludenhof, the Elector of Hochland, had both been murdered, mysteriously, just after Arno was granted the mantle of Reiksmarshal from the Emperor himself. Arno was seriously lacking able field commanders and leaders; Captain Schien was a weasel, more concerned with the politics of the court, rather than defending his Empire. Schien had allowed – a valuable hostage – the captured Chaos Sorcerer Vrokaw to apparently escape and the conceded captain failed to respond to the Lord Commander’s last summons of him. His chief engineer was a drunk and Balthasar Gelt, was acting more like a mercenary these days than the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The Empire was in need of heroes, and Arno saw fit to make this Sigmar look-alike a hero whether he actually was or not. Like the Ogre and Goblin Warlords, Arno desired the fortress for the same strategic importance.
Assaulting the Goblin fortress before the Goblins were completely prepared, Valten led the men of the Empire up the fortress walls and over the parapet, crushing Goblins skulls with every swing of his twin hammers. While the soldiers scaled the walls upon ladders, Valten climbed the walls with his bare hands, seemingly mimicking the actions of Sigmar, when, according to legend, Sigmar himself ascended the walls of Middenheim with his bare hands in ages past. Clearing the southern tower of Goblin rabble, a pack of Cave Squigs was unleashed upon the Human interlopers, the fleshy balls of talon-like teeth bit through armour and limbs like a hot knives through butter, but the determined advance of Valten kept the men fighting despite such bizarre horror. It was then when another mob of Goblins entered the rampart walls from the northern tower. This Goblin mob was led by a massive, bloated beast (for a Goblin, anyway!), as Grom the Paunch himself emerged to see off the ‘’ummies’ and challenged the Herald of Sigmar to single combat.
Accepting the challenge, Valten dashed forward and stormed the Goblin King with a series of blows from his war hammers, backing Grom to the edge of the castle parapet and causing the obese warlord to drop his enchanted axe. To Valten’s dismay, however, the grievous wounds he had inflicted upon Grom’s vast gut and chest had seemed to reknit and mend before his very eyes. With a crushing sucker punch, Grom broke Valten’s nose with a single mighty blow from his mailed fist causing Valten to drop his own weapons. The two generals soon locked arms in a deadly, life-and-death grapple for dominants. Just as Valten began to best Grom with a display of astonishing strength, Grom rammed his helmed head into Valten’s mouth breaking the Herald’s teeth. With the weight of his vast bulk, Grom finally overpowered the Herald of Sigmar before pulling a rusty dirk from his belt and stabbing Valten in the stomach, twisting the blade to inflict maximum damage. Valten screamed and fell. The morale of the on looking Imperil troops broke.
Lifting the Herald of Sigmar’s body over his held, Grom roared in triumph as he threw the broken husk of Valten off the parapet at the incoming Imperial soldiers still scaling the wall. All of the men upon the eastern wall where Valten had faced the Paunch had lost their nerve, seeing their newly hailed champion fall had defeated their fragile moral, and the Goblins descended upon them like packs of ravenous wolves. All of the men inside the fortress were butchered and the remains of Valten’s army turned into a full route, leaving behind the mangled body of their would-be savor.
That night Grom called for a huge celebration feast. The Goblins feasted upon both man and ogre flesh. Grom sent his Goblin Guard to recover Valten’s body – for Grom wished to feast on his enemy’s heart – but Valten’s body could not be found…
NIGHTBORN MANOR
Erag Steelbelly, Slaughtermaster of the Leadguts, awoke in a foul mood. There was nothing unusual about this, for Erag always awoke with an exceptionally nasty disposition, though usually as a result of waking up hungry. Erag did not have his mind on food (for once!), however, for he had visions from the Great Maw – horrific, unappetizing creatures of the night were coming, and in vast numbers. A shadow of a huge Undead thing, a Giant of sorts, clouded his visions. And when Erag awoke he knew the rumours of the return of Nagash must be true. The Slaughtermaster shivered. Nearby Erag’s camp, was an ancient, decrepit manor like something that belonged in old Sylvania. The Ogres did not like the looks of this spooky manor and had kept their distance.
As the Ogres prepared for their first meal of the day, they heard low moans and soon horrible, loud wails, which came from the direction of the haunted manor. Slowly Undead creatures began rustling through the foliage, the first Zombie that appear walked directly at a mob of Ogres eating breakfast (roast Umberduck), who was quickly ripped apart by the angry Ogres, vexed by the creature’s interruption of meal time. More Zombies followed, first only one, then two more, then a mob of five emerged from the woods. Within moments a huge horde of Zombies, hundreds of the walking dead, slowly shambled forwards. This caught the Ogres attention and Erag quickly mustered his Ogre brutes into a fighting formation. A cloud of black smoke appear in front of the Undead Legion, and the form of a cloaked figure stood, defiantly before them – Garak Craine, the Grave Master of Bechaheim, a petty Necromancer who had thrown his lot in with Goreblade Skulltaker.
‘Nightborn Manor is mine!’ Shouted the wicked Grave Master. ‘You think your flesh and bones belong to you? Ha! The Great Necromancer has returned.’ Craine’s voice rose as he uttered each syllable. ‘We all belong to HIM!’
With a deafening crack, black lightning jutted out of the Necromancer’s eyes, ears, nose and mouth in wild arcs headed at the battle-mustering Ogres. With a booming clap of his hands, Erag thwarted the evil spell; dispelling dark energies a moment before the lightning had stuck his Ogres. Garak Craine gave Erag a nasty look and disappeared in another cloud of darkness. The Undead Legions surged forwards.
Erag’s Ironguts, the Bone Breakers, lived up to their namesake, slamming into a horde of Skeleton Warriors, the Bone Breakers smashed apart every Skeleton in their path, snapping bones with every throw of their meaty ironfists. Meanwhile a huge horde of Ogres known as the Pain Bringers launched themselves into the center of the Zombie hordes. Again the fragile frames of the Undead were no match to the power of vast Ogre bulk! As Garak Craine saw his army melting around him, ancient spirits borne of Nightborn Manor came forth attacking both Undead and Ogre alike. The Necromancer screamed in terror, for he did not understand what was happening around him. Had the he offended the Great Necromancer?
It was then when an armoured force of Morghast Harbingers appeared wearing ebon-wrought armour in the style of Nagash himself and wielded huge, wicked halberds that glowed with an eerie green light. The giant, Undead constructs glided into the flank of the Mournfang Cavalry upon wings of bone. While the Ogres riders tried to turn and face their new enemy, the Harbingers made sort work of the Ogre cavalry hacking them about with their enchanted blades.
As the rest of the Leadguts pulverized the Undead Legion, Erag felt a tremor with the Winds of Magic. Something tangible that he almost felt he could reach out and snatch with his own mind was present. And so the Slaughtermaster did and found himself in a struggle of wills between himself and the so-call Grave Master of Bechaheim. Just when Craine seemed to overpower him though, Erag’s will, fueled by his devotion to the Great Maw, surged forth breaking the Grave Master’s hold. Craine screamed, his presence escaping the field. Erag reached out further with his will, supported by the ritual magic of his god and syphoning the dark magic that festered the land. Erag Steelbelly took control of the Morghasts; he was able to move them about like puppets and soon used his new pets to turn upon the remaining Undead hordes.
The Ogres had triumphed, but more importantly Erag discovered – the world was changing…
GRUDGE STRIKING
King Rodin was under siege. Tidings of his kin in the Worlds Edge Mountains had been worse than ever before. The Karaz Ankor, the Dwarf Empire, was besieged on all fronts by tides of Skaven and Goblins. Karak Azul had apparently already fallen and the Dwarf Kings called for aid. Rodin, however, was unable to respond, for he had problems and enemies of his own to deal with. The Hordes of Archaon Everchosen relentless pushed forth from the south, and the Grudgestrikers had held them back for nearly two years. Yet, the lands held by his clan seemed to shrink with each passing day. Although a major threat to his realm, and the entire world for that matter, Archaon’s hordes were also an annoyance to the Dwarf King. For King Rodin wished to exact his revenge upon his ancient Goblinoid foes. Slaying the beast, Grom, and scattering his Goblins would finish the work the Dwarf King had started with the vanquishing of Morhog. Rodin had beset multiple armies to break the Great Wall of Gork that stretched across the Badlands, but those forces were too few and had failed. His main throng needed to deal with the ceaseless invasion of Archaon’s forces, which continued to close around the Grudgestriker’s dwindling realm.
With everything going wrong for his kin, there was at least one name Rodin could finally strike from his hold’s Book of Grudges – Morhog Da Mighty. Both Morhog and Grom have a suffered a major defeat at the Battle of the Mud Flats, their armies all but annihilated. While Grom the Paunch had escaped and recovered, there was nothing to be heard from of Morhog or any of his Orcs. The last Rodin saw of Morhog had been the Black Orc fleeing hastily back to his mountain fortress, with a pack of sabretusks hot on his heels unleashed by his Ogre ally Erag Steelbelly. Since the Mud Flats, Morhog’s forces had not been sited anywhere, not in the mountains nor in the Badlands. His house guard had slaughtered the Black Orc Warlord’s abominable Chaos Dwarf vassals and his lowly Orcs had been scattered. Grom’s demise would soon follow that of Morhog’s.
When Rodin’s rangers returned with reports of Archaon’s armies, they reported that the vile Troll King, Throgg, had stormed the local brewery where the gruesome beast and his Chaos Trolls had drunken all the ale, eaten the Dwarf Alemaster and burned the entire brewery to the ground. The Dwarf King flew into a great rage hearing the atrocities of the notorious Troll. He mustered his army and called for the, rebuilt, special weapon of the engineering guild. If the Trolls liked beer, the king declared, then beer they shall have – for the legendary Beer Tank had finally been restored and renamed by Rodin himself: ‘Morhog’s Drunger’, or ‘the Vanquisher of Morhog’ in the tongue of Man.
With a boom the Dwarf Cannon, Old Faithful, sounded the start of the battle as a massive Chaos Chariot pulled by some freakish beast was smashed asunder, followed by a hails of crossbow bolts. Despite the Dwarf firepower, the Chaos army closed quickly with Throgg himself leading a bloated brood of Chaos Trolls rampaging forwards to engage Rodin’s Throng. The Dwarfs arrayed in an impregnable shield wall, bracing as the voracious Chaos Trolls smashed into their closed formation. Despite the brute strength of the Chaos Trolls and their corrosive vomit, the shield wall held. The furious Dwarf warriors retaliated back, chopping off sinuous Troll limbs and decapitating heads with their great axes and hammers. The Trolls melted away before the relentless foe-hammering wrath of the Dwarfs. Soon Throgg found himself fighting alone and the Troll King shrugged before fleeing the field rather than face the army of angry Dwarfs singlehandedly. Rodin vowed that retreat would not save the fiend, it only delayed the Troll King’s inevitable fate: death by King Rodin’s hand.
At short time after Throgg’s defeat, the Beer Tank exploded in a hail of foam and metal during a routine maintenance by Grudgestriker Engineers. The horrible incident, which not only saw the destruction of the recently repaired tank, but also the death of several engineers, was, at first, blamed on the claims that the engineers had all been intoxicated with Bugman’s Best. After a closer investigation, however, evidence was found that it was, in fact, sabotage, possibly by agents of the dishonorable Troll King himself. King Rodin immediately sent a massive bounty upon Throgg’s head – wanted: dead or alive!
ALL THE EMPEROR’S MEN
While Grom celebrated his triumph at Fort Maw-Tooth, his chief Shaman, Gitgog Da Spider-King, launched his own invasion, turning his attention to the Moot. The poor domain of the Halflings had suffered immensely throughout the duration of the ongoing war. At one point, the Halflings even declared succession from the Empire, after seeming caught in the center of a continuous conflict between the Empire and the Chaos Lord, Goreblade Skulltaker. Their homes were burned and razed, their fields trampled and their simple lives in Hobbit-town turned to strife and suffering. This briefly changed for a time when an agent of Chaos, Sigvald the Magnificent, had seduced the Halflings by promising to rebuild their homes and provide them with security and safety. Though Sigvald was true in his promises, he also had enslaved the diminutive Halflings to do his evil bidding. A grand alliance of Men and Dwarfs finally liberated the Moot, though Sigvald escaped. Now the forces of Waaagh-Grom!, which had slowly surged from the southern Badlands, had assembled before the city gates.
Having been counseled of the depredations of the war upon his recovery, the Emperor Karl Franz atop the massive Imperial Dragon, Braxydis, had immediately flown to defend the Halfling domain, for the Emperor knew the Forces of Destruction would soon assault the walls of the Moot once more, and its fall would only spell doom for the rest of the realm. Preparing for foes from any and all realms, the Emperor rallied the Imperial garrison Reiksmarshal Arno had stationed after recapturing the city from the servants of Chaos. The Elder of the Moot, William Plumpkin, called for the Pancake Militia and a dozen Hot Pots to support the soldiers and artillery of the Empire. Seeing their Emperor atop the Imperial Dragon, the soldiers of the Empire felt invincible. Rabble such as Goblins would be no match for them. The confidence of Men became shaken, however, upon hearing the brass war drums and braying horns of Chaos. The Daemon Prince Goreblade Skulltaker led his Khornate legions and Undead allies from the east, to once again claim the Moot. Two great enemies now surrounded the city, with the Goblins attacking from the south and the forces of Chaos attacking from the east.
The siege commenced with the sound of thunder as the black powder weapons of the Empire unleashed hails of lead bullets, shrapnel and cannon balls at their multiple foes. Several war engines of the enemy were blasted asunder as the warriors of Chaos and Goblins surged for the city walls. Gitgog da Spider-King, atop his massive spider – Da Great Gog – unleashed a massive wave of pure Waaagh! energy that flooded the battlefield, invigorating the Goblin horde. At the same moment, however, the Great Shaman lost his footing atop the howdah upon the Arachnarok’s abdomen, hitting his head against the wooden platform and collapsing, unconscious, upon the howdah. Da Spider King would not awaken until the aftermath of the battle, the Da Great Gog, however, continued to scutter towards the castle walls.
Cackling Night Goblins prodded forth vicious Cave Squigs, squinting and vexed by the light of the sun. Deploying ramps upon the south tower, the antagonized Squigs waddled up the crude platforms, snapping and biting at the Imperial crossbowmen holding the tower. The Giants, Drex the Destroyer and Ol’ One Eyes advanced upon the western wall and suffered hails of crossbow bolts that slowed their advanced and stung their massive forms. At the eastern wall, a Chaos Hell Cannon had breached the wall’s foundation as Goreblade Skulltaker’s Chaos Warriors marched alongside the Undead legions of Snyder Geldwyck, a potent Necromancer enthralled by Goreblade – or so the Daemon believed – and a huge squadron of Skullcrushers of Khorne marched in reserve at the rear of Goreblade’s army, ready to charge in at Goreblade’s behest towards any enemy that might emerge from the castle of appear to threaten the chaotic host.
Since the return of Nagash, the Old World had been saturated with Dark Magic so potent that the dead began to stir all across the globe, rising once again, but without the aid of a Necromancer. As a result, Undead vagabonds now aimlessly marched across the Old World. At the height of the siege, several monstrous Undead creatures stumbled upon the killing grounds along the city walls – either by mere coincidence or drawn by the sounds and smells of battle. Winged Morghasts and blood-sucking Vargheists entered the fray. Wizards from all sides soon began to bend their own magics in order to take control of the Undead things. The Night Goblin Shaman Madbad Zapzag took control of a pair of Morghasts sending them flying atop of eastern wall of the Moot. They easily tore through the Men of the Empire with their huge, cursed blades. Madbad snickered with delight. As them men fled, the Necromancer Snyder Geldwyck struck back with his own Undead monsters – a trio of Vargheists, sending them charging into Madbad’s Morghasts atop of the city ramparts. The bloodthirsty Vargheists, overcome by their blood lust instincts, tore wildly into the bloodless bone carapaces of the Morghasts, but the unnatural armour of the Morghasts held and their potent blades soon dispatched the grotesque vampire-things. Outside the walls, Goreblade’s Skullcrushers grew impatient as they waited to charge anything that might flee the city.
As Ol’ One Eye ponded the western wall with a massive slab of stone, Karl Franz ushered Braxydis forwards over the city walls and crashing into the one-eyed Giant. With a single swing from Ghal Maraz, the ancient war hammer of Sigmar, the huge brute was sent crashing to the ground. Now outside the fortress, Karl Franz and his scaly mount stood before the sea of Goblins attempting to scale the city walls with their ramshackle ladders. Suddenly, Da Great Gog, leapt at the Emperor and the Dragon reeled backwards. Throwing all his strength into a single, mighty blow, the Emperor swung the Hammer of Sigmar in deadly arc, directly at the huge spider’s cephalothorax…
…He poured the sorcerer’s blood into a vast cauldron and dropped the three mutated skulls of the Great Chimera, Cyroarbris, into the gore-filled pot – the final ingredients of the ritual. Immediately, an image appeared on the surface of the bloody contents. It was the Emperor, Karl Franz, atop his pet Dragon embattled with an enormous, purple spider. As the Emperor in the image swung back his war hammer, a vial of the Emperor’s own blood was tossed into the cauldron…
…Suddenly a sharp pain struck the Emperor from within and his hammer missed the spider’s cephalothorax, instead striking one of its forelegs, rending the arachnoid leg useless. Da Great Gog surged upwards in anguish from the gaping leg wound before plunging its hind stinger into the Emperor’s chest. The Emperor immediately fell into a violent spasm as the potent venom surged through his body. With a terrible roar Braxydis battered the spider back with a sweep of its mighty claws before launching itself into the air, carrying the Emperor’s convulsing body to safety, and away from the battle at the Moot.
Seeing the great Imperial Dragon, with their fallen leader, fly away; the moral of the Men broke. The Goblins were swarming the city ramparts; the Imperial soldiers were outnumbered and undermanned. In a final attempt to take the city, Goreblade flew into the courtyard slaying Man, Halfling and Goblin alike. A crude Goblin artillery piece launched a mortar shell upon the crazy Daemon Prince, by some sheer coincidence or uncanny goblin luck; Goreblade was struck directly on its head. The Daemon seemed to dematerialize, but just as it began to fade from the material plane, there was a bright, orange flash, and the Daemon’s body was restored. With his army in tatters though, Goreblade was forced to retreat, leaving the Moot to the Goblins.
When Grom heard of this great victory, he immediately forced marched to the Moot seated atop a palanquin carried aloft by his Stone Trolls. When Grom entered the conquered city his Goblins celebrated his coming. That evening while feasting on roast Halfling and chewing upon the heart of William Plumpkin, Grom made an infamous proclamation:
‘Let dem tell da ‘Umperor dat da Moot belongs to da Gobbos, da Moot belongs to GROM, da Moot iz Green!’
THE HERALD OF THE THREE-EYED KING
Archaon sent forth his Herald, Vardek Crom, the Conqueror, and Harbinger of the End Times, to establish a foot hole within Dwarf-held territory. With the aid of potent slave-daemons and ancient magicks, Crom was to erect a stronghold that would directly threaten the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr. And so Vardek Crom did as his master instructed, a fortress of black iron was magically constructed within mere leagues of the Dwarf capital.
Within hours, two mighty armies of the Dwarf empire merged into a single, huge throng and marched upon the blasphemous chaotic fortress. The iron citadel was a blemish upon Dwarf lands, an insult to the Grudgestriker clan and their Ancestor Gods. This throng was unconventionally led by a Fizban, an atypical Dwarf of sorts, a Gnome to be precious, and a potent trickster-mage in his own right, hence his nickname – the Wondrous Wizard. Fizban had been a mere fable and legendary figure of ancient Dwarf lore, and the Wondrous Wizard had apparently returned from the folksongs of old to defend his kin in these dark times. The Dwarfs were suspicious of the Gnome, for the Dwarfs did not trust any sorcerer, but King Rodin had entrusted the command of the Dwarf Throng to Fizban and so his commands would be followed. The Dwarf didn’t have to like it though, and their was much grumbling amongst the ranks, especially from the Longbeards, regarding this strange newcomer.
Uninterested in hiding behind iron walls, Crom the Conqueror had ordered his army to assemble before the newly built stronghold, the Warriors of Chaos would meet the Dwarf Throng in open battle, for Vardek was a pillager, a Conqueror, he would not wait for the enemy atop a castle parapet. Crom had led the Everchosen’s forces from the Northern Wastes into Kislev where his Warriors, alongside the Khorne Champion Goreblade Skulltaker, had brought the old allied kingdom of the Empire to ruin. The Kislevites would not surrender nor flee, and so, the Hordes of Chaos slaughtered every man, women and child. The Tzarina, Katarin, hailed as the Ice Queen of Kislev, however, had managed to escape with her royal Ice Guard. And so the razing of Kislev was a failure in the eyes of the Three Eyed King. The Ice Queen had escaped and that failure rested upon Vardek Crom, who in turn had blamed the debacle upon Goreblade. After entering the huge vortex that temporally placed the armies of the Everchosen in the south, a plan to take the Empire from an unexpected quarter, the Herald of Archaon longed to regain favour with the exalted Everchosen of Chaos. Destroying this huge army of Dwarfs sent to oppose him, would certainly gain Archaon’s boon.
As an incentive to inspire the Chaos Horde, a massive Warshrine of Chaos, dedicated to Archaon, the Three Eyed King himself shadowed the warriors arrayed across the battlefield. Its presence was such that Crom and his followers believed the gaze of the Everchosen were upon them – which meant they could not fail in their task to slaughter the Dwarfs warriors opposing them. With desire to prove his worth to his master, Vardek Crom immediately and recklessly led the charge of his warriors into the Dwarf formations assembled before him. A warrior with few equals, Crom battered through the Dwarf shield wall, crushing enemies aside with brute force, decapitating helmed heads and gutting the warrior-elites of the Dwarfs. Crom became a whirlwind of blades, as his massive axe sliced off limbs to his right; while on his left, his massive sword plunged into the chests of both brown and grey beards alike. Crom’s warriors were just as crazed and skilled as their lord, as they continued battering Dwarf warriors in the wake of Crom’s onslaught.
The Dwarfs were begrudgingly being pushed back, when Fizban conceived a wily ruse. Calling upon his trickster-like magicks, Fizban cast a potent spell upon the Warshrine of Archaon. Within moments, the effigy in the likeness of Archaon, roared to life, blazing with an aura of magical flames, and the booming commands of the Everchosen himself resonated across the battlefield.
‘CROM!’ Boomed the Everchosen’s voice. ‘YOU HAVE FAILED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!’
Vardek Crom and all his warriors came to a confusing halt. How was he failing? He and his warriors were slaughtering Dwarfs by the dozens. How was this failure? Why was the Everchosen here? The illusion of the fiery Everchosen suddenly dissipated and the Warshrine returned to its normal, unanimated state, but the brief confusion it had caused amongst the Warriors of Chaos was all the time the Dwarfs needed. It was now the veteran Dwarf warriors turn to show the servants of Chaos what slaughter was. Relentlessly and brimming with hatred the Dwarfs hacked away at the stymied Chaos Warriors. The warriors soon broke before the ferocious Dwarf assault and would not stop despite Crom’s bestial commands for them to stand and fight. The Dwarfs had achieved victory thanks to Fizban’s magicks and the Herald of the Everchosen was forced into retreat.
No sooner had the Dwarfs defeated Crom, than they realized Crom’s attack was a mere feint, for the combined legions of all of Archaon’s banners had assembled at the edge of the Dwarf realm. The Dwarfs could not face such a terrible legion without preparation and so the Runesmith, Loki Magik-Dimmer, volunteered to lead an army of Dwarf warriors in a delaying action. Loki and his Dwarfs knew that victory could not be achieved against such a enormous force and that few, if any of them, would live to tell the tale, even so, the Dwarfs march forth to greet the Lord of the End Times without complaint, for they were eager to settle old scores.
King Rodin called for the rest of his banners to unite, and did not expect to see Loki again…
THE RETURN OF NAGASH
Shortly after Grom had departed the Maw-Tooth, the fortress garrison was once again under siege. Not by Man, Ogre or Dwarf, however. The Goblins were the first to witness that which most of the world believed to be only rumours – the return of the Great Necromancer, Nagash the Undying, who had indeed returned. The Goblins were cowed as the massive form of Nagash advanced upon the fortress gates. The form of a seemingly giant Skeleton encased in a suit of wicked and ancient, black armour, glided across the ground with the spirits of the dead whirling about him. His eyes glowed with a malevolent green light and with but a mere word, the Great Necromancer slew the garrison commander and raised all the slain Imperial soldiers, who had been slaughtered by the Goblins, to do his evil bidding.
As Nagash’s Undead Legions assaulted the fortress walls, a small siege force of Grudgestriker Dwarfs led by Erik Wildstrider set upon the northern wall of the Maw-Tooth. The Dwarfs quickly deployed their arsenal of siege engines and begun a bombardment upon the Goblin gates. Stonetop’s Eight Pounder and the grudge thrower, Helga, bombarded the walls of the Maw-Tooth. Yet the walls held – the Ogres had learned the skill of fortress construction from the Sky Titans of Old, which the Goblins now benefitted from. The Goblins retaliated by launching crazed Doom Divers at the Dwarf artillery.
Grom had left part of his own Troll Guard behind as part of the Maw-Tooth garrison and Da Rock Eaters proved invaluable for they did not fear the Skeleton Warriors scaling the walls – they bashed and broke the bone-like Men like rocks upon sticks. The Dwarfs decided to withdraw, for there was nothing to gain. If they captured the fortress Nagash would soon turn his attention upon them and the Dwarfs simply did not have the numbers to deal with both Goblinoid and Undead.
Having only recently been resurrected, Nagash was not at his full power for something about the world had changed since he last tread upon this plane. His mastery over his necromancy was not complete and the Great Necromancer was unable to bring his full magical might to bear against the Goblins. The Great Necromancers retreated uttering foul curses upon the Goblins and swore that they would all die…
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE RAGING MANTICORE
A KING NO MORE
The Dwarf Empire was falling. Attacks by Skaven and Goblins had caused the destruction of several of the last Dwarf Holds. Karak Azul and Karak Eight Peaks had both fallen, their kings slain and people scattered. So too, had Karak Kardin fallen, the infamously known ‘Slayer Keep,’ where its former Slayer-King Ungrim Ironfist had always been the right axe-blade of the Karaz Ankor. Ungrim was king no longer. For his hold, too, has been overrun by foul ratmen. Though his kingdom destroyed and people slain (or captured), Ungrim yet lived. His oath as a king was no longer relevant, now only his oath as a slayer mattered to the old Daemonslayer and before his life was finished he would exact vengeance upon the enemies of all Dwarf-kind.
Recently, Ungrim has become possessed with an unnatural power. Ungrim believes this force that has empowered him to be that of his Ancestor God Grungi, but in truth, it is the magical wind Asysh, the Wind of Fire, broken free from the vortex on once-Ulthaun, has chosen Ungrim as its host. The truth of his newfound powers means little to Ungrim, for he seeks his ultimate doom. Hearing of the struggles of King Rodin and his clan, one of the last, true kings of the Dwarf Empire, Ungrim, along with his remaining Slayers of Karak Kardin, have embarked on a journey to Barak Varr in order to help Rodin defeat all their common foes.
MARCH OF THE DEAD
The dark tidings of Nagash’s return to the world of the living had reached every realm, and it shook their realties with terror, for surely, the world must be dying.
While realms of mortals rebuilt and reorganized from their fortified strongholds, readying their armies for the harsh winter to pass, the Great Necromancer commanded his legions to march. The warriors of the dead did not complain, did not hunger, and cared not for the freezing cold of the winter season. Several fortresses through the Badlands and Old World were assaulted and taken by the Undead or razed to the ground completely, for a mere season would not stymy the plans of Nagash the Great. While his enemies sealed themselves in their fortresses the Undead stalked world…
OGRES ON THE MARCH
The Undead, however, were not the only creatures stirring during the winter, Greasus Goldtooth, Overtyrant of the Ogre Kingdoms, forced marched from the Mountains of Mourn all the way to the Old World. Word had reached the obese Overtyrant of the continuous failures of Tharthrog and the Leadguts. This was something, Greasus decided, that needed to be rectified at once. One ominous night towards the end of winter, Greasus arrived at the Khorne capital of Slaughterloo. Mysteriously, Goreblade Skulltaker was nowhere to be found; only a skeleton garrison seemed to secure the fortress. With an army made of entirely Ironguts, the strapping and beefy war-veterans of the Ogre Kingdoms, the Overtyrant stormed the chaotic city, capturing the fortress in a single night. After a feast that last for three weeks, Greasus finally summoned Tharthrog and his ogres to the Overtyrant’s new capital, to plan the overthrow of these, puny lands of the West…
THE WEIGHT OF THE CROWN
At the Imperial Palace of Talabheim, grief and fear consumed the city. Not because of the numerous enemies that would see them all drown in blood and fire, but because their finest heroes and champions of light both lay at deaths door. The newly emerged Champion of the Empire and ‘Herald of Sigmar’, as the commoners took to calling him, had suffered a fatal wound during a confrontation with the Goblin King Grom. Valten would have surely died if not for the timely arrival of the Supreme Patriarch, Balthasar Gelt, who recovered the Herald of Sigmar’s body and atop his Pegasus, Pandora, delivered the unconscious Valten to Talabheim in hopes that his life could be saved. Worse still, the recently recovered Emperor had suffered a terrible wound at the Battle of the Moot, he only stilled lived, though barely clinging to life, because of the heroic actions of the Imperial Dragon, Braxydis, who the Emperor rode into battle. Braxydis, who was gravely wounded himself, had been able to carry the Emperor all the way to the city of Talabheim, saving Karl Franz’s life. The priestess of Shallya had tended to the heroes for days, but their skills and prayers could only barely sustain them. Karl Franz could die at any moment.
As the city prepared the burial arrangements, Balthasar Gelt, approached the, now, Stewart of the Throne, Castellan of Altdorf, Lord-Commander of Talabecland and Reiksmarshal of the Empire – Maximilian Arno with an outlandish idea. Gelt claimed, using an ancient spell, known only in the annuals of his Order’s ancient tomes of magics, he might be able to save one of the two heroes of the Empire. Using the remaining life-force of one, mended and transmuted by Gold magic, the other’s life force could be reinforced and, possibly, make a full recovery. It was the only way that one of them could survive. One would die so that the other might live or else, both Karl Franz and Valten would both expire. With little hesitation, the Reiksmarshal agreed to Gelt’s plan, though Arno did not like such questionable methods, he knew Gelt’s ancient lore was the only remedy to the heroes’ fatal wounds.
Pleased with himself and eager to attempt his experiment, Gelt bowed deeply to the Stewart-Regent, before spinning on his left heel and swiftly moved towards the throne room’s exit. Arch Lector Sebastian Gunther, called for the Supreme Patriarch to halt, for the question of which hero would live and which would die needed to be addressed – it would not be determined solely by Gelt, Gunther declared. Immediately, the Emperor’s Justice, Ludwig Schwarzhelm, protested the very question. For in his eyes there was no question – the Emperor would be healed not some ‘Sigmar pretender.’ Any other thought was blasphemy. Gelt, argued, however, that the Emperor had been ill, unnaturally ill, and if they saved the Emperor with the life force of Valten, Karl Franz might continue to suffer from his ailment. Schwarzhelm became furious at Gelt’s notion, calling Gelt an agent of the enemy, but the wizard would not be gainsaid. Gelt continued on how the Emperor’s sickness might doom them all, while Valten was healthy, youthful and, perhaps, Sigmar reborn! The Justice was about to draw his sword during his tirade directed at the Supreme Patriarch, when Arno grasped the Justice’s hand and bade him silence with but a look.
The Lord-Commander asserted that Gelt and Schwarzhelm both made good points. As Stewart of the Imperial Throne, Arno declared that he would call for a vote – a decision by all the Elector Counts, as was Imperial law and tradition. The courts claimed that it would be impossible, however, given the current predicament of the Empire – the Grand Theogonist had gone missing – possibly captured by the vampire Mannfred Von Carstein, the count of Averland and Hochland were both reported dead, William Plumpkin, the Halfling Elder of the Moot was now in the clutches of the Goblins and rumoured to have been eaten by Grom himself, and the counts’ that were alive and unmolested were locked in warfare of their own.
Both the Emperor and Valten could be dead at any moment, Gelt needed to get to work immediately if he was to save one of Champions of Light. The Supreme Patriarch, the Arch Lector and the Emperor’s Justice, each a high official within the Empire themselves, decided that it should be Arno as Reiksmarshal of the Empire and Stewart-Regent of the Throne to make the final decision. The burden of that decision would forever weigh heavy upon the Lord-Commander, but Maximilian Arno knew it was his responsibility and with the authority of his position that he must be the one to decide his Emperor’s fate, even if he would rather not. Time was not a luxury the Reiksmarshal had, for he would have liked to at least have one nights rest before making the decision. Alas, he could have no such option. Arno ordered the throne room clear, of everyone. The court would reconvene in one hour to hear the Stewart’s decision.
When the bell tolled on the hour, the court assembled before the Regent. Arno was a man of few words, the decision was his to make and he decided that he would give no explanations of his decision, for his people should already know that his decisions were always in the best interests of the Empire. And so, as the court audience gathered before him hushed in silence, the Reiksmarshal declared his decision with a single word: ‘Valten’. Karl Franz would die so that the Herald of Sigmar might live.
With a furious shriek, Ludwig Schwarzhelm, the Emperor’s Justice and friend of old, drew his magical blade and charged at the Reiksmarshal.
‘Blasphemer!’ Schwarzhelm shouted. ‘Kinslayer! Emperor-slayer! Oathbreaker! Liar! Fiend! Usurper! Pawn of the Dark Gods!’ Arno drew his blade and parried just as Schwarzhelm’s sword reached his neck. Using all of his strength, Arno shoved the Justice back with his blade, sending the Emperor’s bodyguard reeling to the ground.
‘I don’t want to fight you, old friend. Stand down.’ Commanded the Stewart-Regent.
‘Traitor! Deceiver!’ Schwarzhelm continued his tirade of insults. ‘By Sigmar, I shall strike you down in the name of his royal majesty, the one, true Emperor – Karl Franz!’
And so, perhaps, the two finest swordsmen in the Empire dueled in a contest not fought inside an Imperial Palace since the time of the Three Emperors. With each strike came a parry or riposte, with each sweep of their blades, neither man could hit their target. The court watched on, in astonished bedazzlement. Finally, the older of the two, Schwarzhelm, feel to his knees in exhaustion. With his blade point at the Justice’s neck, Arno pleaded with Ludwig to surrender and join him, for darker days were coming and Arno needed him. Arno needed all the heroes of the Empire.
‘I do not follow usurpers and traitors,’ Ludwig spat as he began to lunge up at Arno, blade in hand. With a flick of his wrist, Arno cut the Justice’s throat. Red gore sprayed out of the gaping neck wound as Schwarzhelm clutched at his neck with both of his gauntleted hands. His eyes stared up at the Reiksmarshal and his mouth hung open as if attempting to speak. Although the Justice could only gasp and gurgle before he slumped to the floor, dead, Arno heard the Justice’s voice ringing in his head: ‘Blasphemer! Kinslayer! Emperor-slayer! Oathbreaker! Liar! Fiend! Usurper! Traitor! Deceiver! Pawn of the Dark Gods!’
Behind his golden veil, Balthasar Gelt smiled.
The world was dying, though nobody knew it…
DARK TIDINGS CAMPAIGN, YEAR III – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD
SPRING SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (March & August 2015)
DARK TIDINGS RISING
As the harsh ice of the winter melted away, a fleet of deadly Elven vessels assaulted the Old World in a series of swift and bloody strikes. The Dreadlord Dukillion, ambassador of the Witch King of Naggaroth, had coordinated an array of raids, striking fear across the continent. In the far north, a Dark Elf Black Ark penetrated the Sea of Chaos and struck the Feeding Grounds of the Ogre Overtyrant Greasus Goldtooth. In the south, the Goblin Mines of Goria, were swiftly taken by the Elves. And at the edge of the forest of Athel Loren, where the mysterious Woodland Elves have apparently vanish without a trace, seemingly replaced with their wicked cousins, the Dwarf army of Erik Wildstrider was scattered. Rumor had reached the Old World that the civil war between the various factions of Elves had come to an end, though their state of politics still remained unclear. Whatever had transpired on far Ulthuan, these raiders seemed vicious and hostile enough – the Elves had not come in peace.
THE GOBLIN INVASION TALABECLAND
The world was his. He need only reach out and seize it with his great green hands. Grom’s campaign of destruction had been glorious, he had conquered lands with greater zeal than the best Orc, he had raised the mighty Great Wall of Gork, he had shattered countless armies and bested one of the greatest heroes of the age in single combat – Valten, the so-called Herald of Sigmar. And Goblinoids of all kinds still flocked to his banner, further bolstering his ever-expanding Waaagh!
‘Da ‘ummies’ are weak. Dey reek of fear. Dere shiny cities will fall. So begins da Age of da Goblin…da Age of Grom!’ Grom promised his horde that the capital of the manlings would be theirs, and the horde believed him. Talabheim, as the ‘ummies called it, would be the capital of Grom’s new realm – just as Mork and Gork had foretold.
Launching his forces from the gates of the captured Moot, Grom strode at the fore of his armies marching into Imperial lands mounted upon his ancient, scaly pet – Doomserpent. The ferocious wyrm had once been the steed of his chief shaman, Blacktooth, until the old shaman was slain on the Elven isle of Ulthuan. Grom and his armies were defeated and scattered, though Grom was able to escape all the way back to the Old World atop Doomserpent, and ever since the Wyvern and Grom had found a kindred spirit within each other. Grom had declared he would not rest until he feasted upon the heart of Valten, who’s body had mysterious vanished after Grom had thrown the warrior’s corpse over the parapet of the Maw-Tooth after besting the his foe in combat.
The jaws of Grom’s invasion had been set. The Forest Goblin Shaman, Gitgog, and his army of greenskins had been sent further north with instructions to rendezvous with Grom’s horde at the gates Talabheim, while the main Army of Grom took a more direct route to the capital using the Old Imperial Road.
As Grom marched towards the city, he was met by a vast army of Men led by the villainous Imperial Captain, Barnabas Schein. Schien was greatly outnumbered for hundreds of Gnoblars, who were abandoned by the Ogres at the first Siege of the Maw-Tooth, had joined forces with their Goblin cousins. A massive unruly horde of Gnoblars surged forwards ahead of the larger Goblins, quickly engaging the Imperial infantry. Though the Gnoblars died in droves their numbers were so great that their casualties were of no concern to anyone, even the other Gnoblars (of the ones still alive, anyway)! The sea of Gnoblars bogged down the discipline soldiers of the Empire, pinning down the Imperial shock troops.
Captain Schein, staying a safe distance from the frontlines, observed the battle unfold before him. His army was outnumbered and outmatched. He saw a horde of hungry Stone Trolls lumbering forwards, a battery of crude Goblin war engines and thousands of malevolent red eyes surging forwards. There was no escaping this threat, but when he saw the massive form of the infamous Goblin King, Grom himself, bawling orders from atop his scaly Wyvern, Schein new what he must do – cutoff the head of the serpent.
If Schien could defeat Grom, the Goblins would never continue to stand and fight, much less continue their march upon Talabheim. Schein would be hailed a hero, a true savior of the Empire. In fact with the recent news of both the Emperor’s and Valten’s demise, and the continuous blunders of the Reiksmarshal, such a heroic feat could ascend Schein to the Imperial Throne. Such an opportunity could not be passed and Schein knew his Dark God would forever favour him if he were to succeed. Though an inexperience general, for he had ever been cunning at avoiding open battle, Barnabas Schein was not incompetent. Calling for his reserve battalion to advance, Schien entered the fray.
The captain and his guard engaged the Goblins skewering goblinoids with the skilled precision of their halberds. Suddenly he heard a thunderous crash, followed by the clanging of shattering shields and the screams of dying Men. Schien turned to his left and saw the Wyvern Doomserpent, carrying his bloated master upon its back, crash into the spearmen on his flank. Schien grinned, spinning on his heel to face The Paunch, but a gang of Goblins blocked his path. Schein slashed left and right, his sword and armour covered with the dark gore of the greenskins. When that last Goblin that had barred his way was struck aside, the remains of the last spearmen was devoured within Doomserpent’s fang filled maw.
In an uncharacteristically heroic action, Schein charged the bloated Goblin King lounging upon his throne atop Doomserpent. Grom immediately recognized Schein as the enemy commander for no other man wore a larger feather upon their brow, but the puny Man’s courage amused the Goblin chieftain. Even so, Grom knew the weedy ‘’ummie’ was no match for the Paunch of Misty Mountain. Grom was looking for a real scrap – he had bested the Savior of the Empire and desired a scrap with the Emperor himself, not a prancing, peacocking phony like Schien!
‘Where’s da ‘Umperor? Where’s Vol-ten?’ Grom roared. The stench and sounds of heavy flatulence saturated the ozone like a thick miasma, Doomserpent hovered just above the ground coiling and hissing while seemingly oblivious of Grom’s reek. Schein grimaced in disgust as the stench struck all of his senses.
‘I have something much more interesting to show you than them, my Goblin King.’ Schien bowed deep in a mocking fashion, and still grinning, displayed a small, ornate box before the mighty Goblin Warboss. With a flick of the handle a soothing music emanated from Schien’s trinket. Grom cocked his head at the unusual sound and Doomserpent fell into a sedated-like trance.
After a moment, Grom’s eyes bulged wide, as a daemonic-like shadow enveloped Schien expanding into a creature of a stature that far surpassed both Grom and his wyvern. A huge claw struck out raking against Doomserpent’s scales, followed immediately by a second claw that seized Grom and snapped off the Paunch’s left arm at the shoulder.
Grom howled in pain, Doomserpent shrieked and immediate hovered backwards before turning and fleeing from Schien. The shadow-daemon began to pursue The Paunch, as Grom’s severed limb began to regrow anew.
Nearby, Gutbug, a Goblin Bully commanding the greenskins artillery, saw an opportunity to gain Grom’s favour. Gutbug, ordered a pair of Spear Chukkas to aim, and FIRE…
Schien could feel the favour of his Dark God as he pursued his foe, victory over the Goblins was his, as would soon be the Imperial Throne. Suddenly a huge, barbed bolt penetrated the shadow, and unexpectedly struck Schien. Fortunately for the captain, the hit was only glancing, but the blunt the blow sent him reeling to the ground. Schien’s precious speculum-box was sent whirling into the air and smashed into pieces upon the uncaring ground. The shadow-daemon dissipated and Schien was consumed by darkness.
Days later Captain Schien awoke within his army’s encampment and learned of his army’s defeat. Schien broke into a fit when he discovered he no longer was in possession of his prized box, created by the great Egrimm Van Horstmann and locked away in the volts of the Grand Theogonist, until stolen by Schien himself. For days, Schien interrogated his lieutenants about the whereabouts of his speculum, but all claimed to know nothing of any such device. Rumour had it that the captain had gone mad after his engagement with Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain. If it were not for the routing of the Goblin King, Schien’s men would have surely mutinied – but where the Herald of Sigmar had failed in besting The Paunch, Schien had prevailed, for he had driven Grom the Paunch from the field of battle.
‘Don’t allow your petty desires for trinkets distract you from our true goals.’ Came the voice. Schien’s fury immediately dissipated. ‘This Goblin King and his rabble are nothing more than an inconvenience. You will sit upon the Imperial Throne and all our enemies will die. However, Slaanesh requires patience, my friend. For ultimate victory is bitterly hollow without the sweet taste of the game.’
VALTEN’S TRUIMPHANT RETURN
Da Spider-King, Gitgog Da Great, as the potent shaman had recently begun calling himself led the more mobile elements of the green horde round the main Imperial roads to Talabheim in attempt to avoid any major conflict and meet Grom at the Imperial capital. Though secretly, Gitgog planned to assault the Imperial capital before Grom’s army arrived, usurping the Goblin King’s authority thereby turning Grom’s inevitable victory into his own.
But when the renowned Huntsmarshal of the Empire, Markus Wulfhart, spied the villainous horde force-marching its way through the Forests of Shadows, the Huntsmarshal dispatched messenger hawks to the capital to warn the Reiksmarshal of the interloping Goblins. Upon hearing Wulfhart’s warning, Arno and the newly revived Valten marched a the fore of a huge Imperial host intent on vanquishing the Goblin threat once and for all.
Gitgog’s horde was no match for the Army of Reiksmarshal. Huge mobs of Wolf Riders were smashed aside by the heavy cavalry of the Empire. Demigryph Knights tossed aside entire squadrons of wolf-driven chariots with their potent claws. Gitgog was outmaneuvered and surrounded. Valten, now wielding Ghal Maraz, the mighty Hammer of Sigmar, smote Da Great Gog, Gitgog’s Arachnarok Spider with a single blow and the Spider-King himself, Grom’s chief-shaman, was captured.
The gnarly veteran-warboss, Gorgog Bonechewa, fled before the might of the Reiksmarshal, Valten and Imperial Parade Company. With their tails between their legs, the Wolf Riders retreated back to their master where Grom would hear of Gitgog’s failure and learn that his nemesis, Valten, was alive and well.
THE BATTLE OF THE OLD IMPERIAL ROAD
No sooner had Gorgog Bonechewa regrouped with Grom’s army marching further west into Talabecland, then the army of the Reiksmarshal, Maximilian Arno, met the main vanguard of Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain.
The Army of Grom, however, was not an army of mere Goblins. For it was a coalition of ruthless, mercenary Giants, huge brood-hordes of Stone Trolls, massive mobs of vicious, fang-filled Cave Squigs, batteries of rock lobbers and crazed Goblin Doom Diver Catapults, and Giant Hill Trolls not seen in the lands of Men for centuries. A huge idol in the likeness of Grom himself loomed over the entire horde. The Army of Grom was indeed the most vile collection of scum and villainy to penetrate so deep into Talabecland in decades.
The Army of the Reiksmarshal was a muster of warriors not seen assembled since the Third Battle of Black Fire Pass. The banners of the Knights Panther, the Jade Griffon legion, and standard of the Reiksmarshal were flown high and proud across the gleaming army of knights is glittering armour. Two of the eight Steam Tanks of the Empire accompanied the army of the Lord-Commander of Talabheim, ranks of spearmen and halberdiers marched in tight, discipline formations, the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic – Balthasar Gelt – soared over the battlefield on his white Pegasus Pandora, and Valten, Herald of Sigmar, led the vanguard of Knights into the heart of Grom’s monstrous horde.
Cannon balls roared across the field and the great Idol of Grom toppled to the ground burying nearby Goblins in the rubble. Gorgog’s huge mob of Goblins Wolf Riders, attempting to outflank Arno’s forces, was suddenly struck by one of the mighty Imperial Steam Tanks at top speed, grinding and crushing the limbs of Wolves and Goblins, causing yelps and cries alike. The stench of burning, matted wolf fur saturated the battlefield.
While the Reiksmarshal remained with the reserves and commanded the army’s strategic advance, Valten led the Knights Panther into the heart of the monstrous horde. With each swing of Ghal Maraz, a Giant was toppled, a Troll was smashed asunder, or a Squig exploded in hail of messy inners. The Army of Grom was no match for Valten and the Hammer of Sigmar. But when Ghal Maraz struck the Great Giant Hill Troll, Grox, in the chest, the Giant Troll’s lifeless husk fell forward, into the columns of the Knights Panther. Several knights were crushed as the vast bulk of Giant Troll husk came crashing down upon them. Valten himself was thrown from his steed and pinned beneath the Giant Troll’s dead carcass. Though the Herald of Sigmar stilled lived, the moral of the Imperial soldiers faltered, for their invincible Savior was believed dead – for what man could survive being buried beneath the weigh of a slain Giant Troll?
As the Reiksmarshal gave the signal for the reserves to advance, a massive beast struck the Reiksguard Knights. Grom and Doomserpent had descended from the dark skies into the squadron of veteran knights. When The Paunch bellowed a challenge, the Reikscaptain, Lars Reinhold, heroically met the Goblin King before the Reiksmarshal could advance to accept the challenge from the end of the column of knights. Reinhold was easily defeated, his neck severed by Elf-Biter, but when the Reiksguard pressed their numbers upon Grom, The Paunch was forced back, and Doomserpent leapt into the air in retreat.
Balthasar Gelt swept across the battlefield using his mastery of magic to melt the weapons and armour of the foul Goblins. Burning chainmail seared the rubbery flesh of the Goblins as their rusty spears, swords, and axes melted into small pools of liquid iron. Fortunately for the Goblins, Wuzbog Spookblabba, a crazed Goblin Shaman, knew opportunity when he saw it. Seizing the Death Magic that had saturated the world with the return of the Great Necromancer, Wuzbog summoned a pair of giant, winged, skeletal creatures – Morghast Harbingers – and commanded them to destroy the Supreme Patriarch. Gelt was caught unawares as the Morghasts descended upon him, and atop Pandora, the Supreme Patriarch lured the Undead-like Daemons away from the rest of the Reiksmarshal’s army. Arno cursed Gelt as he spied the treacherous wizard retreat from the battlefield.
A sound like thunder struck the battlefield as Grom, having regained control of Doomserpent, charged one of the huge Steam Tanks of the Empire. The tank was toppled as the Wyvern slammed its vast bulk into the side of the tank breaking the iron behemoth with a mighty crash. The Paunch sliced through the tank’s plated-steel with Elf-Biter, like a hot knife through butter, and pulled the engine commander from the tank’s ruins. Grom ripped the man’s jaw from his face, and devoured the engineer’s tongue, before tossing the tank commander aside.
Though the Army of Grom had suffered great casualties, the Imperial army was in disarray. The Supreme Patriarch had fled the field, Valten was apparently dead (again), scores of knights had been slain, and one of the eight wondrous Steam Tanks of the Empire had been destroy by Grom himself. Arno was forced to withdraw, leaving the Goblins (what was left of them, anyway) triumphant!
The Goblins continued their march on Talabheim…
RENEWED OATHS OF VENGEANCE
King Rodin Grudgestriker was furious, not that it was unusual for a Dwarf King to be furious, for the enemies of the Dwarfs were legion. The Hordes of Chaos had ceaselessly attacked his strongholds, at the same time as the Grobi had invaded Dwarven domains and captured keeps along the border of the Sea Fortress of Barak Varr. The Grobi were never this bold, and something was certainly not right in the world. The Slayer King, possessed by some uncanny power, had brought Rodin word of the destruction of Karak Kadrin by the vile Ratmen of Chaos and such tidings had heralded despair even within the stout hearts of the Dwarfs.
The Grudgestriker swore oaths of vengeance upon the foul Skaven and all the enemies of the Dwarfs – the Grobi, the forces of Chaos, the Undead, and the treacherous Elgi who had dared attack his armies unprovoked. Rodin cared not of which Elf faction was truly responsible, after all, all Elgi were the same: arrogant, deceitful, and treacherous.
Erik Wildstrider was forced to abandon his post after a surprise attack by the Elves, and the King had considered shaving the tree-hugging Dwarf’s beard, just to make a point. Wildstrider had ever been unusual for a Dwarf, his connection and obsession with nature had caused many Dwarfs to mockingly name him ‘an Elgi in a Dawi’s body.’ But shaming Wildstrider by shaving his beard would be too harsh, for he had been surprised and outnumbered after all. The blame should fall upon the Elves, not Wildstrider, for in times as these, the King reckoned, he needed every Dwarf warrior he could muster. If not for the interference of the Elves, the Grudgestriker clan would have destroyed all their enemies. The Elgi would be dealt with in time. For all their tricks, The Grudgestriker promised, the Elgi would not escape retribution.
Despite Elven trickery, Rodin’s armies had managed to retake one of Grom’s fortresses bordering Barak Varr while at the same time fending off the armies of the Everchosen. The Dwarf army of Rumphle Runestriker and Ungrim Ironfist had been thwarted in their attempt to take the Maw-Tooth, still held by the Goblins. But it was King Rodin, The Grudgestriker himself, whose throng scoured the halls clean of Grobi-scum within the twin-fortress the Goblins had constructed. The King had brought along one of Grom’s lieutenants, Slagrot Spida-Eyes, who had been captured by the Dwarfs at the battle of the Mud Flats, to taunt the Goblins by parading Slagrot about, tied upon the Dwarf King’s own standard. When the last Grobi was slain by the Dwarfs, The Grudgestriker smote Slagrot himself, executing the Goblin chieftain in one clean sweep of his hammer.
The Grudgestriker swore great oaths of death to The Paunch, The Everchosen, and the Elves. The scouring of the Goblin keep was he beginning of the Dwarf King’s new declaration of retribution.
A GREAT ASSET
‘Sergeant, report. I am not pleased regarding this breach in security.’ Captain Schien’s face was veiled in shadow as he sat at his Drakwald-wood satin desk. The office was cloaked in night, only a single candle burned casting a eerie light upon Schien’s face, giving him a sinister, daemonic visage.
Sergeant Berthold had been in command of the Watch when Goblin raiders had struck the town of Bogenhafen in order to free the Goblin prisoners – Gitgog the Shaman and Gitilla the Hunter. The two goblinoids had been important lieutenants in the Goblin armies of Grom the Paunch and their capture was crucial for the Empire. Schien had commandeered the town of Bogenhafen in the name of the Emperor, and seized the town’s Tower of the Magistrate for his own base of operations regarding the military campaigns of the Empire.
‘Milord, the Goblins rode the backs of Giant Spiders to penetrate the parapet. The Watch valiantly slew all of the foul greenskin invaders and recaptured the shaman before he could escape. I have since doubled the Watch and ordered my men to increase patrols.’ Schien sat in silence listening to the sergeant’s debrief.
‘What of the wild goblin? The one that thinks he’s a Hobgoblin Khan?’ Schien queried.
‘According to my men, one of the Goblin raiders slew the goblin chief during their rescue attempt of the shaman.’ Schien’s face turned sour at the news of the dead prisoner. ‘As you know, Milord, the goblinoids rarely cease their constant infight–’ Schien silenced the sergeant with a wave of his hand.
‘Bring the shaman to me, before another prisoner dies in your custody Sergeant. My personal guard shall tend to the shaman,’ Schien commanded. ‘And see to it that no more enemies interrupt our operations here.’
‘Yes, Milord,’ Berthold gave a curt solute and left his captain in haste.
Within the bowels of the Tower of the Magistrate, Gitgog the Spider King was slain in another of Schien’s dark rituals. The potent shaman’s blood would finally allow Schien to summon an ally that would make his armies invincible. A ring of fire was ignited within a vast pit in the Tower’s dungeon. On a table covered with scrolls of dusty parchment and ancient books sat Schein’s collection of vials containing potent life-fluids of his enemies – the ichor of Cyroarbris the Great Chimera; the lifeblood of Vrokaw, one of the dreaded Twin Sorcerer Sons of Tzeentch; the poisonous gore of Gitgog the Spider King, and the Blood of Sigmar himself, the sanguine royal blood of Emperor Karl Franz. One by one, Schien took the vials of blood and cast them into the flames.
When the last vial was cast into the pit, the flames roared to life. The brim of the pit flared with a great conflagration of fire. A rush of scalding heat swept forth from the pit searing Schien’s face. The captain screamed as a wave of intense sweltering heat forced Schein from the dungeon. The stones of the pit illuminated red as the unnatural fire burned. A great roar like thunder vociferated from the dungeon pit, echoing throughout all of Bogenhafen. All who heard it shuddered with dread.
When the fires finally cooled, massive talons seized the top stones of the pit, and an archaic beast of titanic proportions heaved itself from its ancient prison. The great monstrosity, Kar’gornysh, was freed from its thousand-year-imprisonment and its enemies would soon face its horrible wrath…
SUMMER SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (March & November, 2016)
‘Your Majesty,’ called a rasping voice akin to the dry, ancient sands of Nehekhara. Before the king stood a withered creature clad in primordial rags of once-venerable royalty. It paused and gave a deep bow. ‘I bear dark tidings,’ the Liche Priest continued. ‘Interlopers have arrived from the ocean in the north, as well as from the east. The vaults of Mahrak have been plundered. Indeed, greed has summoned these crude trespassers.’
The pitch black, empty eye sockets of the Tomb King merely gazed back at his subject.
‘It is said the Great Usurper has risen in the east. His presence has caused a disturbance in the aether winds.’
The High King’s skeletal head, crowned with the golden headdress of ancient Lybaras, tilted to one side, as though the priest’s words had stirred distant memories in the archaic king.
‘What is your will, my King?’
‘Summon my army, priest.’
And so it was, High King Lakhashar, Tomb-Emperor of the Golden Sands, Lord of the Asaph, Breaker of Thaqil, Conqueror of Doom Glade, and Perpetual Ruler of Ancient Lybaras roused from his ever-slumber to march forth to war…
THE LAND OF THE DEAD
With the need of further resources and rumours of vast wealth hidden within the tombs of ancient Nehekhara, various kings and warlords sent armies to the Land of the Dead in order to fuel their war coffers. Armies of Dwarfs and Ogres, as well as the Blood Legions of Khorne, had traveled far to claim the riches of the desert.
Brand the Bloody-Handed, former lieutenant of Goreblade Skulltaker – Fallen Daemon Prince of Khorne, now led his own Chaos Host for the glory of the Blood God. After Goreblade’s defeat, Brand had returned to Norsca where he united the tribes dedicated to the worship of Khorne and raised a mighty fleet to plunder the lands of his enemies. The Red Fleet of the Bloody-Handed had pillaged the ports of Bretonnia and razed settlements along the coastlines of the Great Ocean before making landfall on the baking deserts of Nehekhara.
Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker had heard tales of the Land of the Dead, but it was of little interest to him until now. The Dwarf Empire had been at constant war for years battling Skaven and Goblins from within their mountain strongholds. In recent times, entire holds had been wiped out by their enemies causing the mining of gold and other precious metals to come to a halt. It was this concerning crisis in which King Rodin sent a Dwarf expedition into the Land of the Dead to see what resources could be acquired from the rumoured treasures of the deserts. Erik Wildstrider, a Grudgestriker Runesmith who had proven to have a mind for battle tactics as well as his ancient hammercraft of magicbinding, was chosen to lead the expedition into the unfamiliar lands of the so-called dead.
When the Ironclad ships of the Dwarfs made landfall, Wildstrider immediately ordered the commencement of their quest for treasure in this strange, new land. Within days, the Dwarfs had accumulated chests of gold and barrels full of jewels. Erik discovered an immaculate scepter beset with jade colored gemstones, only to fall ill hours later. It was not long before the guardians of Nehekhara stirred to exact vengeance upon the trespassing Dwarfs. The Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar had been alerted of the avarice interlopers and promptly sent a host of warriors, led by his son – the Tomb Prince Lahkashaz, to dispatch them.
Amongst the ruins of a desolated temple, the Grudgestrikers took a defensive position, Wildstrider took command despite his unnatural ailment, and the Dwarfs bombarded the oncoming Undead warriors with their ballistics. The Dwarfs cheered as their massive stone thrower, Helga, launched a huge piece of masonry that crushed some Undead monstrosity. Without warning, the sands shifted behind the Dwarf battle line, as tomb guardians mounted upon great skeletal beasts emerged from beneath the sands. These massive Undead riders disrupted the Dwarf lines trampling and maiming the warriors in their path.
Though the Dwarfs were surrounded on all fronts, Wildstrider had laid a trap for his foes. Before the battle had commenced, the wily Runesmith discovered and took position behind a small dune of Khemrian quicksand. As the Dwarfs gained the upper hand on the Necropolis Knights, the advancing Skeleton Warriors to their front marched right into Wildstrider’s ruse. The tenuous quicksand swallowed the Undead warriors whole. The Dwarfs had been saved by the treacherous terrain of the deserts, but were concerned of this new enemy their expedition had seemingly attracted.
THE RESTORATION OF LYSTO-EN-ARBAL
The Nehekhara city of Lybaras lay far to the east, beyond the mountains, remote from the heart of the desert. So it was that the armies of the Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar marched to the ruins of Lysto-en-Arbal, an ancient city, mostly buried beneath the sands, that had been razed by the armies of the Usurper during the time of the Necromancer’s great treachery. It was by the will of King Lakhashar that Lysto would be restored to its former glory and become the capital of his realm. From Lysto, the Tomb-Emperor would initiate his twofold stratagem to vanquish the Usurper and the other interlopers of Nehekhara.
Upon the Tomb King’s arrival, the Necrotects of Lybaras immediately began the restoration of Lysto. Thousands of Skeleton Warriors and animated constructs worked night and day until the city was raised and heavily fortified. Within a fortnight, the bone white walls and shining monuments of Lysto glittered in the desert sun – the great city of Lysto-en-Arbal had been restored.
Once the restoration of Lysto had been completed, King Lakhashar sent his armies to comb the deserts in search for plundering interlopers. The Tomb King’s army met and fought a series of battles against the Khorne Legions of Brand the Bloody-Handed. But when rumours that Nagash himself had returned to Nehekhara surfaced, King Lakhashar made a temporary truce with the Bloody-Handed’s Blood Legion. For the Great Necromancer had become the immediate threat…
THE BLACK PYRAMID OF NAGASH
The ever-looming shadow of the Black Pyramid of Nagash was a days ride from Lysto. Until King Lakhashar managed to find a way to destroy the evil monument, it was the Tomb-Emperor’s decree to use the power of the Black Pyramid of Nagash against its master. The Liche Sorcerer Ka-Lakmil, said to be an old pupil of the vile Liche King Arkhan the Black, immediately begun syphoning power from the Black Pyramid. The pyramid fuelled Ka-Lakmil mastery of Dark Magic, allowing the Liche to raise the fresh corpses of the desert.
When Ka-Lakmil received word of an army of Ogres plundering the temples and pyramids of Nehekhara, Ka-Lakmil personally led an army of Tomb Warriors to face them, for the Ogres would be the first to feel the potency of the Black Pyramid. It was only because of the power of the pyramid, however, that Ka-Lakmil was able to survive against the depredations of Erag Steelbelly, Slaughtermaster of the Leadguts, and his Ogre army.
Like the Dwarfs, Greasus Goldtooth had dispatched an army to bring further wealth and gold to the Overtyrant. At the Battle of Dune Sea, Erag Steelbelly and his Ogres withered hundreds of arrows as they advance upon the warriors of Nehekhara. In a delaying action, Ka-Lakmil raised the fresh corpses of the desert to slow the Ogres advance, a wall of zombies rose, clawing and snarling at the obese Ogres. But the inevitable Ogre onslaught could not be prevented. The Steelbelly blasted the zombies apart with potent Gut Magic as his Ironguts tore through the Undead things without breaking a sweat. Erag and his Ogres eventually reached the Nehekharaion battle line, smashing and breaking the Skeleton Warriors like frail twigs. Though Erag had won the conflict, the hungry Ogres perused the broken remains of the Skeleton Warriors and complained ¬– ‘Where’s da meat?’
THE GLORY OF MORKHEIM
Back in the Old World, Reiksmarshal Arno, Valten, and the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, Balthasar Gelt, led the Imperial Army of Talabheim against the newly erected Goblin Town of Morkheim, a sprawling new city and massive extension of the goblin-captured Moot, which Grom the Paunch had raised in defiance of the Empire of Mankind.
Even the insubordinate Captain Schein, who had been summoned by the Reiksmarshal, arrived to aid the Stewart of the Empire. At the fore of Schein’s army, however, a blasphemous creature of massive proportions soared across the battlefield, breathing flicking, blue flames upon the Goblins.
The great Chaos wyrm, Kar’gornysh, who Schien had long plotted to release from its ancient prison beneath the Bogenhafen Tower of Magistrate had come to destroy the enemies of its bound master. At the sight of the tainted monster, Arno knew that Schien had succumbed to the temptation of the Runious Powers and, perhaps, had become an agent of Chaos. The Reiksmarshal would deal with Schien soon enough; for the time being, the Goblins consumed his immediate attention. Captain Schein was pleased with his new pet, yet his glorious machinations had come to fruition only for the massive Dragon of Chaos to be laid low by goblinoid arrows. Too thirsty for slaughter, and weakened from its centuries of imprisonment, Kar’gornysh’s rash decent upon the walls of Morkheim had proven to be a fatal error for the beast.
The men of the Empire clashed with the goblinoids upon the ramparts of Morkheim. The Reiksmarshal himself led the foray to take the gatehouse. Arno and his Reiksguard cut down scores of Goblins like scythes through wheat. A Troll stepped forth and belched forth a vile broth of acidy vomit, melting flesh and armour as though they were made of wax. Arno drove his Runefang deep into the thing’s mouth, piercing through its throat before slicing the blade downward from throat to groin, essentially splitting the Troll in two.
Though Arno and the Reiksguard captured and held the gatehouse, the number of Goblins crammed onto the ramparts was too great for the Imperial soldiers. Embattled within the gatehouse and unable to raise the gate, the Reiksguard eventually were forced to withdraw from Morkheim.
THE SIEGE OF GROM’S PAUNCH
The Overtyrant, Greasus Goldtooth attempted a direct assault against the commandeered Moot, now called Grom’s Paunch by the Goblins. Massive Stonehorns carried siege towers packed with Ogres eager to crush the diminutive Goblins defending the ramparts. A mob of Maneaters spearheaded the attack against the fortress. Gutbutting their way onto the walls, the Maneaters easily swatted the Goblins from the ramparts, followed by loud fits of belly laughter. The elite Ogres took such delight in the plight of the weedy defenders that they began making sport of the whole engagement by playing ‘Toss the Goblin,’ a favorite pass time of the Ogres that involved throwing a goblinoid as hard as possible into a wall or mountainside. When a head exploded on impact, splattering a thick green paste upon the wall, the Ogres roared with amusement. Taking Grom’s Paunch would be easy. But when the Goblins suddenly began to chant and cheer for ‘Da Red Deaf,’ a bloated Arachnarok Spider, with a carapace of crimson, scaled over the fortress walls and sallied forth to confront the Ogres still marching upon the city. A swarm of lesser spiders followed in its wake.
The appearance of the huge spider became an instant distraction for the ever-hungry Ogre horde, for Tharthrog Leadgut and his Gorestompers, did not fear the massive spider, but instead desired to eat it! Tharthrog had encountered a similar beast years ago during a hunting expedition and, since then, fried spider legs had become a delicacy in the Leadguts tribe. The Ogre Tyrant sent his sabretusks, Hamstringer and Legsnapper, to draw the giant arachnid deep into Ogre lines until Tharthrog and the Gorestompers could surround the beast, trap it, and stomp it. As first Greasus himself became enraged at the distraction, bawling and yelling at his single-minded subordinates, but soon Greasus too became enthralled with the idea of fried spider legs and the assault on Grom’s Paunch was abandoned altogether as the Ogre army turned their full might upon the eight-legged arachnid. Though the assault failed, Greasus and his Ogres feasted well that night.
THE SIEGE OF CROM’S KEEP
Tired of his subordinates continued failures, the Everchosen launched a massive assault upon the Dwarf held fortress of Crom’s Keep. This time, there would be no failure, for Archaon Everchosen himself commanded the assault. Since the Battle of Rumphle’s Last Stand, the Everchosen’s body had swelled into a menacing, daemonic-like stature, corrupted by the presence of the Daemon Prince, Be’lakor. The ill-favored Daemon had managed to possess the Three Eyed King, but Archaon’s will had been too potent to wholly consume. The Everchosen’s iron resolve and relentless ambition for conquest outweighed even Be’lakor’s longing to be crowned as the Everchosen of Chaos, and so Archaon had been able to suppress Be’lakor’s looming presence more often than not. Even so, the Daemon’s interloping presence was ever cognizant, often goading Archaon to make impetuous decisions or provoking some other insolence.
Unaware of Archaon’s internal conflict with Be’lakor, rumours surfaced within the camps of the Everchosen’s followers that their master had developed the unhinged habit of speaking to himself. For when the constant whispering lies of Be’lakor vexes the Everchosen enough, Archaon can be heard making spontaneous utterances, such as ‘shut up daemon,’ seemingly speaking to no one but himself. Still, others claim the Everchosen is merely in commune with the gods themselves.
Despite his personal dilemma, the Everchosen’s campaign of conquest would not be sated. The Dwarfs of Barak Varr had been a barrier to Archaon’s ambitions for too long. His own lieutenant, Crom the Conqueror, had established a foothold in Dwarf territory, raising a mighty fortress-outpost, only to have it taken by the Grudgestriker Dwarfs. Archaon was determined to retake Crom’s Keep, marking the beginning of his conquest of the Dwarf empire.
The Dwarfs grimly lined the fortress walls readying axe, hammer, and crossbow for another Chaos assault. Huge, iron siege towers, pushed by mutated monstrosities, surged towards the fortress walls. Atop the mobile towers, Khorne Wrathmongers and Archaon’s Chosen warriors, roared praises to the Everchosen and the Blood God alike as the missiles of Dwarfs rained down upon them.
Archaon himself, sprouting a leathery pair of bat-like wings, flew atop of the gatehouse swinging the Slayer of Kings in precise, arcing thrusts, each sweep loping the head of a veteran Dwarf warrior. When the Wrathmongers and Chosen reached the ramparts, their fury was devastating. Despite their superior position atop the walls, the Dwarfs were overwhelmed by the Chaos onslaught. Wielding huge flails in reckless, wild arcs, the Wrathmongers threw themselves at the Dwarfs seemingly mad with no concern for their own lives. Although the Dwarfs fought valiantly, the fury of Chaos could not be sated. Crom’s Keep was recaptured and the Dwarf garrison met a bloody end.
THE SEA OF CHAOS: UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT
From his Black Ark in the Sea of Chaos, Dreadlord Dukillion plotted the further conquest of the Old World. The Dark Elf Dreadlord had sent word back to the Witch King of Naggaroth of the success of his multi-tiered strikes across the Old World frontier. His murderous Naggarothi had butchered an expedition of Wood Elves that had strayed too far from Athel Loren, raided the Goblin mines of Goria, and captured the southern city-state of Remas – the capital city of the Republic of the same name, said to have been built upon the ruins of an abandoned High Elf outpost.
Dukillion’s marvelous victories and dreams of ultimate conquest came to an abrupt end, however, when the vast, Grand Fleet of Bretonnia suddenly appeared out of a heavy fog, ramming the prows of their vessels into the anchored Black Arks of the Dark Elves. Scores of Knights in shinning armour bordered the massive Ark fortresses in a relentless and bloody assault upon the unprepared Dark Elves. When the Dreadlord commanded his sorceress sister to summon the beasts of the black deeps to aid them, the treacherous sorceress laughed at her brother’s trivial victories and ultimate folly. Instead, she summoned a flock of spiteful Harpies who seized Dukillion, their vulture-like talons puncturing through his armour and embedding deep into his flesh, and carried him high into the gloomy skies before dropping the Dreadlord to his doom at the center of the Sea of Chaos. The traitorous sorcerous mysterious dispersed in a cloud of violet mist and the remaining Dark Elves were slaughtered by the glorious Knights of Bretonnia. The livery colored banners of Bretonnia were raised in the southern shoreline of the Sea of Chaos.
THE ULTIMATE ALLIANCE OF ABSOLUTE POWER!
At the Old Imperial Road, an army of ultimate evil marched upon the gates of Talabheim. The Chaos Hordes of Archaon Everchosen united with the Ogre Kingdoms of Greasus Goldtooth, as well as the Goblin Hordes of Grom the Paunch, and the Monstrous Host of Throgg the Troll King. The Reiksmarshal returned from his campaigning in the nick of time to defend his realm and was pleased to find that his Dwarf allies had already arrived to assist in the defense the Empire. The Dwarf King Rodin Grudgestriker had taken position upon the walls of city, commanding the Grudgestriker Dwarfs manning the ramparts as well as batteries of potent Imperial and Dwarf artillery. The lost Dwarf Lord Donberry Blueberry rallied his clan to honor the ancient oaths of loyalty and bonds of friendship between the Dawi and Men of Sigmar from the Times of Old. An army of Undead, led by Ul-Rem Nartect, Arch-Necrotect of Lybaras and Lord of Constructs, had been sent by his master, the Great Tomb-Emperor Lakhashar to exact redemption upon the Hordes of Chaos. The Tomb King cared not of the Empire of Mankind, but found common cause in their repugnance of Chaos. Finally, a large contingent of Bretonnian Knights marched alongside the Reiksguard to defend the order of mankind.
The battle commenced with the sound of thunder as the batteries of Imperial and Dwarf war engines opened fired upon the Forces of Destruction. The Exalted Bloodthirster, G’Gakllshuleeffoekw, Grand Marshal of Khorne’s 8th Legion of Blood, took the brunt of the fire. When the dust cleared a smoking crater was all that remained where the mighty Bloodthirster had stood. With its monstrous form vanquished, the battlefield illuminated brighter as the rays of the sun flooded the field, no longer obstructed by the massive bulk of the banished Greater Daemon.
A legion of Scorpion Dune Chariots charged into the infamous company of mercenaries – Golgfag’s Ogres. The crab-like claws of the scorpions snapped as the skeleton charioteers broke their spears upon the thick hides of the Ogres. Golgfag himself seized a gigantic scorpion by its pinchers raising and shaking the creature high above his head. The bone chariot the scorpion was yoked to toppled and splintered. The scorpion’s tail swung wildly, striking Golgfag in the back, but the mercenary captain’s bulk was too thick for the scorpion’s sting to penetrate. With seemingly ease, as massive crack was heard over the din of the battle as Golgfag snapped the creature’s pinchers and tossed it aside like a rag doll. Golgfag enjoyed breaking these things.
The legendary Champion of Chaos, Harry the Hammer, rumoured to have fought in the very first Battle of Black Fire Pass, led the vanguard of the Archaon’s Horde into Ul-Rem Nartect’s Undead Constructs – unliving, guardian statues known as Ushabti in the Lands of the Dead. Harry’s burning hatred and unnatural death-aura was anathema to colossal Undead warriors. Yet, their numbers were legion, and with the stone shaping magic of Ul-Rem, the Ushabti wielded their ritual blades in unison, with a precision and discipline unmatched and unseen in the Old World, splitting Chaos Warriors in twain.
A huge horde of Goblin Wolf Riders, charging across the open fields towards the Imperial battle line, were suddenly pulled and thrown from their wolves by grasping claws of dwellers bellow the ground. The magically summoned fiends pulled down the wolves and their greenskin riders seizing paws and tails, causing the Giant Wolves to yelp and howl as their Goblin riders cried out in high-pitched shrieks. After a few moments, the dwellers returned to the abyss below and the void in the earth sealed itself as though the rift never-was. Over half of the Wolf Riders and been pulled to their graves and the remaining Wolf Riders turned tail and fled. The horde of Goblin Wolf Riders would have certainly fled for the hills, never to return, if not for their leader – Gorzor Khan, Butcher of Talabheim Fields, an old and gnarly Goblin Khan who had been through worse.
‘Stand yer ground, ya maggots,’ croaked the Khan followed by a disgusted glare. The remaining Goblins came to a halt. They lifted their heads high and sat straight on their steeds, chest out in a manner to appear brave. A nasty shout and look from Gorzor was all that was needed to keep the Goblin raiders inline. Such was the vicious reputation of the Butcher of Talabheim Fields, the Goblins wouldn’t dare disappoint Gorzor, not while he was in such close proximately, anyway.
The Lord of the End Times, still waging an internal battle with the Daemon Prince Be’lakor who had partially possessed the Chaos Everchosen, imposed his will upon the First Daemon Prince and took full control of his body. Leading the Swords of Chaos and Skull Crushers of Khorne into the stout Dwarf Hammerers of Donberry Blueberry. The elite, old Dwarfs were thrashed and trample under the might the Chaos cavalry, but refused to flee. For they would honor their oaths of fealty or die in attempt! Lord Blueberry challenged the Three-Eyed King to single combat, raining a furious series of blows that would see lesser lords fall, but the Everchosen was made of sterner stuff and Donberry Blueberry was swiftly decapitated by Archaon’s massive broadsword – the Slayer of Kings. Seeing their Lord-Father fall, the Hammerers surged upon the Skull Crushers with relentless hatred, toppling three of the monstrous cavalry and smashing their riders to bloody pulps with their runic hammers.
Enormous sieges towers carrying repulsive Trolls assaulted the fortress walls. King Rodin and his guards vigorously defended against the gargling, belching, and vomiting fiends. A huge crimson Arachnarok Spider scaled a fortress tower devouring Dwarf Trollslayers who threw themselves at the giant arachnid in hopes of a glorious death. The spider granted the Slayers their death wishes, slaying all but one of the orange bearded outcastes – Ungrim Ironfist, the Slayer King and Incarnate of Fire who went on to hack off all eight legs of the great spider, slaying the abominable beast and casting its carcass from the tower’s ramparts.
At the height of the battle, the King of Bretonnia displayed his true intent by turning on his Imperial allies. Rather than continuing the assault on the oncoming legions of Goblins and Trolls, the king ordered his knights to wheel to face the Men of the Empire.
The King himself charged into the flank of the Reiksguard Knights and challenged the Reiksmarshal and Stewart of the Empire, Maximilian Arno, to single combat. Visibly rattled and railed with anger at such betrayal, Arno strode forward in acceptance with a taciturn frown. It was only then, that the Reiksmarshal realized that this trader-king was not the venerated and honourable King Leoncoeur, but the False King, the Usurper, Leoncoeur's bastard – Mallobaude the Serpent!
Without even a nod of recognition, Mallobaude launched a fierce series of blows aimed at Arno’s head and heart. The Reiksmarshal parried them all. Recognizing the grievous injuries Mallobaude’s Hyppogryph mount had already sustained, Arno struck the beast’s weak spot with his Runefang thrusting his enchanted sword deep into the beast with a hard twist. The Hyppogryph shrieked and roared at Arno’s well-delivered deathblow, throwing Mallobaude from its back, before collapsing in its death throes.
The Trader, having been thrown by his steed, had been disarmed. Groveling before the Reiksmarshal, Mallobaude pleaded for the Stewart of the Empire to spare his life. Arno replied with a single sweep of his blade, beheading the Usurper for his treason against the Empire.
Atop his wyvern, Doom Serpent, Grom charged an Imperial Steam Tank. Doom Serpent’s talons and Grom’s axe tore through the thick armoured hull of the tank’s flank, when suddenly it exploded! The Wyvern made a horrible screeching sound as it stumbled backwards. Yet as the smoke cleared, a second Steam Tank rumbled forth at full speed crashing into the Wyvern, before it too exploded in a huge booming crescendo of black soot and shrapnel. The force of the explosion threw Grom and his Wyvern to the ground. Doom Serpent shrieked louder than before. Simultaneously, a huge, fiery rock struck Grom right in his infamously bloated paunch. The Goblin King roared in pain as his gut was seared at the same time as being knocked off the back of Doom Serpent from the sheer force of the blow. The Paunch, however, mustered enough strength to climb onto the back of his Wyvern, and the severely injured wyrm languidly absconded high into the sky. The Dwarfs atop the tower cheered at the accuracy of their shot and demise of their hated foe – they would be honored by the High King for driving Grom the Paunch of Misty Mountain from the field.
As the battle raged on, the alliance of Men and Dwarfs (and Tomb Kings) valiantly held the city-fortress and the armies of the ultimate alliance of evil were broken and scattered. The alliance of Order had prevailed.
AUTUMN SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (May & August 2017)
THE SIEGE OF VON WALDMUNT
Despite a great victory for Men and Dwarfs at Talabheim, goblinoids and Ogres still roamed abroad with impunity. And in a bid for his master’s favour, Gorgog Bonechewa laid siege upon Castle von Waldmunt – a fortress raised by the Reiksmarshal to defend against would-be invaders of the Empire. Gorgog’s Wolf Raiders were not an ideal siege force, but Gorgog was determined and disciplined (for a Goblin, anyway!), and cunning enough to organize a siege. The warlord ordered his Goblins to pen the wolves, forage for wood, and ensured the ale was hidden from the Giants, Grox and Brox – for Gorgog would not have his mighty, Giant Hill Trolls march upon the walls in a drunken stupor. In short order, the Goblins built a great siege tower and an array of potent siege weapons. Da Great Gog seemingly summoned another Arachnarok Spider that emerged from the Forest of Shadows.
Unfortunately for the Goblins, Ungrim Ironfist and a host of Dwarfs had marched to the aid of Men. Man and Dwarf stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramparts of von Waldmunt while Gorgog and his Goblin army surged towards the fortress walls. Reiksmarshal Arno led the defense of the Empire with Valten, the heir apparent of Sigmar, at his side – both bolstering the courage of the Imperial soldiers with their mere presence. Giants pummeled the walls and defenders with clubs made of uprooted trees, gigantic Spiders the size of townhouses scaled the walls, and Goblins assaulted the ramparts via siege tower and ladder. Heavy casualties were suffered on both sides, but as the battle raged on the Goblin numbers began to dwindle. Entire mobs of Goblins were hacked down and thrown from the ramparts. The alliance of Men and Dwarfs, once again, proved too potent for defeat and Castle von Waldmunt held against its foul invaders.
As Gorgog fled for the hills, the Reiksmarshal received tidings that Grom the Paunch had attempted to capture a key Imperial mine, but was swiftly defeated by a small band of warriors led by Balthasar Gelt. Grom’s shamans were no match for the magical might of the Supreme Patriarch and in response; Grom had ordered his Doom Divers and catapults to target the ‘Shiny Git’ (Gelt). But Gelt proved too swift atop Pandora the Pegasus to be caught by the living-Goblin missiles. Gelt’s magical assault seemed unstoppable as entire mobs of Goblins were turned into mounds of gleaming gold, while their mates squabbled over the magical spoils. Knowing he had been outmatched, Grom called for his army to retreat.
THE TRIUMPH OF TOMB-EMPEROR
Within the Land of the Dead, the undead warriors of High King Lakhashar continued their relentless scourge upon the interlopers of the Golden Empire. The Dwarf expedition had gone terribly wrong. Their commander, Erik Wildstrider, had been afflicted with an unnatural malediction and veteran Dwarf Warriors, who hand fought in the times of the historical War of the Beards, had fallen as they became completely cut off from their kin in the mountains. Erik made his last stand against Lakhashar at the Dune of Serpents. There his warriors, covered in the dust of the deserts, stood in defiance of the abominations of the Tomb King’s army in a great shield wall. The Skeleton soldiers could not break the battleline of veteran Dwarf warriors, even Lakhashar’s elite Tomb Guard could not penetrate the unyielding shield wall of the Dwarfs.
Finally, King Lakhashar summoned his reserves. A legion of Scorpion Chariots emerged from beneath the dunes, a haze of dust trailing in their wake as the chariots raced towards the defiant Dwarf battleline. Erik commanded his warriors to hold as the skeleton chariots smashed into the shield wall and then everything went black…
KNIGHTS OF THE UNKNOWN CROWN
After Greasus Goldtooth’s failed assault upon Grom’s Paunch, a glittering host of Knights flying the bright colors of their livery assembled before the Goblin-held Moot. Whether their allegiance was to Mallobaude, the renegade cut down by Reiksmarshal Arno after his betrayal at Talabheim, or to the honorable King Louen, the Goblins cared not. Five massive trebuchets had been drawn before the walls of the Paunch, raining death upon the Goblins and smashing the battlements of the city. A Sorceress with red hair summoned storms of fire upon the Goblins atop of the battlements and Bretonnian archers fired massive volleys of arrows at the goblinoids.
In efforts to counter the bombardment, the spikey gates of Grom’s Paunch opened, and a gang of Goblin Chariots zoomed forth – racing towards the assembled Bretonnian Knights. The Knights were caught off guard as the rumbling Goblin chariots smashed into their ranks. In the wake of the chariots came the monstrous pets of the Goblins, a pair of deranged Mangler Squigs and the Giant, Burt, strode forth. Forest Goblins Spider Riders scuttered over the battlements with alarming war cries and the Bretonnians soon found themselves on the defense as the Goblins sallied forth.
The Knights became embattled by the huge, hungry Squigs and scythed chariots, as Goblin Spider Riders spiked each trebuchet one by one. The Bretonnians, not prepared for such a counterassault, were overrun and their Red Sorceress, along with her apprentice, were captured by the Goblins.
In celebration of their victory, the Goblins tortured the two captive wizards. The red woman’s apprentice suffered fatal wounds and in a gust of fury, the Red Sorceress evoked a blast of fiery retribution upon her Goblin agitators. The Goblins cried out and scattered, only to regroup in greater numbers to take control of their prisoner. And when they did, each thread of hair upon her amber head was ripped from her scalp. When the Goblins grew bored of the sorceress, they threw her broken husk into an iron cell that already held a pair of prisoners…
‘Wake the woman,’ ordered Elias Hernals, Captain of Grieshof’s Cleavers and former Standard Bearer of his lord’s standing army. The wizard, Mikel Gilden, merely gazed back at the Imperial Captain without a hint of acknowledgement, as though his rank no longer mattered. And perhaps it didn’t for they were both prisoners of the Goblins now, and it was unlikely that either of them would live to tell the tale. ‘Bah!’ Hernals waved a hand in disgust at the cynical wizard. ‘I’ll do it myself,’ he snapped. Gilden had ever been a disappointment to the Colleges of Magic, and he made for an even worse cellmate.
‘Who are you?’ Hernals gave the red sorceress a gentle nudge. The woman was awake, but barely conscious. Hernals could see that it took great effort for the red woman to open her eyes.
‘I am an advisor…to the king,’ she muttered, in an effort that seemed to drain her of what little life she clung to.
‘King? Which king?’ Hernals inquired.
‘The one, true king,’ the red lady gasped.
‘She’s not going to help us,’ Gilden mocked. ‘We are in dungeon – Sigmar knows how far from the surface – surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands of greenskins. Assuming we could escape this cell, we’d be lucky to make it to the next corridor.’
‘Shut it Gilden!’ Hernals warned. ‘I’m getting out of here with or without you!’
‘Get out of here? Ha! You don’t even know where we are,’ the Gold Wizard continued, ‘we’ll never get out of this dreadful–‘
‘I said shut your trap,’ Hernals admonished, interrupting the wizard, before lunging at him. He punched Gilden with a meaty fist to the left jaw before seizing the wizard by his shoulders and punching him in the stomach. Suddenly, the cell door blasted apart in a loud, fiery explosion, throwing both Hernals and Gilden to the floor. As the smoke cleared, the red woman was standing at the cell opening, her bald, blood matted scalp looking like a floating skull enveloped by the gloom of the smoke.
‘Follow me, if you want live,’ the red lady advised before proceeding down the corridor. The confusion of the Goblins could be heard booming throughout the citadel. Hernals and Gilden turned to each other in surprise, before rising and following the mysterious sorceress down the corridor…
THE OUSTING OF KRELL
At Da Great Wall of Gork, the Skeleton Legions of Krell had launched a campaign to seize the mountain fortresses of the Goblins. Two of fortresses had fallen to the armies of the dead, but Sourgutt, Castellan of Da Great Wall of Gork, had been relentless in his attempts to repel the legion of the Wight King.
Using the powers of his magical helm, Sourgutt attempted to summon a host of Daemons to aid the Goblin armies against the Undead, but the ritual went horribly wrong. Instead of summoning an army of Daemons to unleash upon his foes, Sourgutt unlocked the ancient, daemonic evil that had been bound into his magical helm centuries ago – Ulrishta, a Daemon Lord of Tzeentch, possessed the Goblin Warlord moving from its prison inside the inanimate crown and into the black heart of the cruel Goblin chieftain. The Goblins were not aware of Sourgutt’s daemonic possession, though they reckoned their boss to be ‘spookier’ and stranger than usual.
Sourgutt tore into the Skeleton legions with both supernatural strength and daemonically enhanced magical might. The Warlord’s seemingly relentless and unstoppable prowess emboldened the Goblins – for they defended Da Great Wall of Gork with fearless enthusiasm from the stringent Undead. The siege came to an end when Sourgutt destroyed the Wight King Krell himself, enveloping and disintegrated the Lord of Undeath in a fierce conflagration of scorching blue fire that seared Krell’s skeleton frame and armour before melting the Wight into a flickering puddle of blue flame.
And so it was, in the southern end of the World’s Edge Mountains where the forces of the Great Necromancer Nagash had breached Da Great Wall of Gork, Daemon-possessed Sourgutt had rallied the Goblins of Misty Mountain and defeated the Skeleton host of Krell.
THE BATTLE OF MORKHEIM FIELDS
Reiksmarshal Arno, Valten, and the Dwarf Slayer King Ungrim Ironfist marched upon the Goblin town of Morkheim, a crude city connected to the massive Goblin city known as Grom’s Paunch – the mighty Goblin King’s new capital in the north. In recent months, Ungrim’s Dwarfs and Arno’s finest soldiers of the Empire had achieved a great many laurels in battle and had repeatedly defeated the Goblin and Ogre armies rampaging through their lands. The Reiksmarshal’s scouts had reported that Grom had fled to Morkheim, and playing on the Goblin King’s desire for a good scrap, the united army of Men and Dwarfs lured the Goblins to battle five leagues from the gates of Morkheim.
Two huge battlelines of Trolls made up Grom’s vanguard, his own guard of Stone Trolls, as well as the mercenary Chaos Trolls of Vorga. The Trolls would easily tear through the heavily armoured Dwarf warriors and Imperial Knights, with the Goblins marching in to clean up whatever was left. However, the Reiksmarshal and Valten, riding at the head of the Reiksguard Knights, broke through the Troll wall and relentlessly followed through into an enormous horde of Night Goblins led by Grom himself. The Knights slaughtered scores of Night Goblins, but being cutoff from the rest of their army, soon found themselves surrounded and stranded in a sea of Goblins.
While the Trolls held the rest of the Arno’s army back, one warrior was able to penetrate the front lines of the Goblins, singlehandedly disemboweling four massive Trolls, before charging into the black sea of hooded Night Goblins. Ungrim Ironfist, Slayer King of Karak Kadrin and Incarnate of Fire, had emerged to fight alongside his allies and immediately issued a challenge to the obese Goblin King.
Grom roared, accepting the challenge of the Dwarf King, and swung a series of wild strikes at the Slayer King with Elf-Biter. Ungrim parried the powerful blows of Grom’s Axe, before slicing a massive wound in the Goblin King’s paunch with his flaming Axe of Dargo. Rather than spilling Grom’s guts, the fiery axe had immediately cauterized the massive lesion and Grom fell back, enveloped by the numbers of his minions and disappearing into their ranks. The Night Goblins seized their king and fled. The Reiksguard Knights pursued their foes and many Night Goblins were trampled beneath the hooves of the Knights’ warhorses.
Ungrim raised his mighty rune axe in victory – for he had triumphed were so many had failed, the notorious King of the Goblins had fallen to his axe. Yet, before the Slayer King could join the pursuit of the fleeing Goblins, he was suddenly stuck by a massive boulder. Such was the force of the impact of the huge rock, that Ungrim’s crowned head was knocked clean off from his body. Gutbug and the Goblin crew of the Man-Mangler catapult cheered and laughed – for seeing the Dwarf’s head ‘fly’ was extremely amusing to the greenskins. The king’s body slumped to the ground and Ungrim Ironfist, the Great Slayer King of the Dwarfs, was no more.
The Hammerers and Troll Slayers defeated and scattered the leaderless Trolls and soon rendezvous with the Reiksmarshal before the gates of Morkheim. The Dwarfs anger could not be sated and their retribution was terrible – they hewed down the gates of the Goblin city and unleashed their vengeance upon the greenskins within.
‘For Ungrim,’ they bellowed. So terrifying were the war cries of the Dwarfs that the Goblins refused to stand and fight. They fled were they could, but in the end no Goblin in Morkheim could escape the onslaught of the Dwarfs.
Grom had been defeated and Morkheim captured, but it was a hollow victory in the eyes of the Dwarfs. For one of the last great leaders of Dwarf-kind had been lost.
ONWARD TO THE PAUNCH
Although a great victory was achieved at Morkheim, word was received that Grom the Paunch had survived and fled to the sanctuary of the twin Goblin city, Grom’s Paunch. The Dwarfs immediately petitioned their Imperial allies to attack the neighboring Goblin city and finish the Goblin King once and for all. The Reiksmarshal disagreed. His Men were fatigued from the Battle of Morkheim Fields and the ensuing siege of Morkheim. His soldiers needed to recover and to celebrate their victory. Pressing them to immediate battle, especially a siege, would be bad for moral and tactically ill advised. But the Dwarfs would not be refused. A legend amongst Dwarf kind had been slain, by cowardly (and shoddy) Goblin artillery, they would have their vengeance with or without their allies. Against his better judgment, Reiksmarshal Arno told his allies, they would find retribution for Ungrim and take The Paunch together.
The assault on The Paunch was a disaster. The soldiers of the Empire were fatigued and ineffective, and the Dwarfs rushed the castle walls heedless and reckless of sound tactics. There was no sign of Grom, but the Goblins easily thwarted the meager assaults of the Reiksmarshal’s alliance. As the army of Men and Dwarfs withdrew their assault in defeat, the Dwarfs grumbled about the poor display of ‘Manling’ soldiery.
A DWARF’S OATH
Erik awoke, a burning sensation seared across his body, his throat was as dry as the sunbaked sands in which he lay. The sun was at its zenith and all living things under its gaze felt its burning rays. Erik sat up and looked about him. His warriors lay dead around him. His expedition in the Lands of the Dead had come to an end and he was all that remained of it.
The Runesmith had failed. He had failed his kin and king, and worse, he had failed the warriors who had followed him to this nightmarish land with promises of glory. Erik sobbed, wallowing in his defeat. He seized the gold sceptre, taken from the ruins of a desolated temple, and smashed it upon a broken shield. The sickness that had afflicted his bones immediately dissipated and Erik felt strength return to his limbs as the blood of his ancestors rushed through his hollow veins.
After a moment, Erik shook his tears away and became consumed with vehement rage. He shook his fists at the skies and bawled curses at the scorching sun. He swore a terrible oath of vengeance upon his enemies and a score of profanities upon the living dead. Finally, Erik forswore the fellowship of his kin as he took the vows of the Slayer Cult.
Then he rose from his burning sands, not as Erik Wildstrider – Runesmith of the Grudge-Strikers, but as Erik Doom-Seeker, Blight of Undead. Like many Slayers before him, Erik would seek a worthy doom in redemption of his sins and carve a deadly path of retribution through all who would stand in his way.
WINTER SEASON – YEAR OF THE LIVING DEAD (August 2017)
THE CROSSROADS TO NOWHERE
As the winter storms began, a massive battle took place at the Crossroads to Nowhere, a hidden pathway east of the World’s Edge Mountains that leads into the blighted, sulfuric landscape of the Dark Lands. Archaon Everchosen was determine to rid himself of Be’lakor, the insidious Daemon Prince who had possessed him, but who’s will was not strong enough to snuff out the unyielding presence of the Everchosen. At the Crossroads, the Armies of the Everchosen of Chaos and his allies sought the destruction of the Totem of Zenith, an ancient horacrux of power that contained a portion of Be’lakor’s daemonic essence. The totem had been erected when the world was young by tribes of a race now wiped from existence and all memory – a people who had served and worshipped the first Daemon Prince, until Be’lakor became bored of them and eradicated them like insects. No living mortal knew of these secrets of the Daemon Prince, but with Be’lakor’s shadowy presence within his own body, Archaon had gleaned much hidden knowledge from the depths of the Daemon’s ancient mind.
The Three Eyed King was determined to destroy the horacrux and in doing so, rid his soul of the filth that was Be’lakor. When the armies of Ultimate Evil arrived at the Crossroads to Nowhere, Archaon was furious to see that an alliance of Men and Dwarfs had already arrived. The legions of the Tomb-Emperor stood with them. It should have been impossible for the Alliance of Order to be aware of the horacrux, if not for the curiosity of the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. Using his authority as Supreme Patriarch, Balthasar Gelt had retrieved one of the eight forbidden tomes of the Grimoire Daemonicus, and had learned of the power the Totem of Zenith contained. The Supreme Patriarch had implored Reiksmarshal Arno to allow him (Gelt) to pursue the totem, for such an artifact, Gelt claimed, could potentially revive their deceased Emperor, Karl Franz. Arno has dismissed the request out of principle – the Emperor would not be ‘revived’ through dark magics. But when the Reiksmarshal learned of the movements the Everchosen’s armies he allowed Gelt to assemble a coalition to stop the forces of Chaos from acquiring the artifact.
As the cold winds rose, so too did the gale of the Winds of Magic, heighten by the cursed horacrux of Be’lakor. Entire regiments where swept aside and decimated by spells of extraordinary power, and through this turmoil of potent magic, the Totem of Zenith shattered. Archaon was instantly freed of his rival – the Daemon Prince banished from this soul. But the outcome had been of Be’lakor’s design all along, for such was the power imbued in his ancient horacrux that it’s destruction breached the fabric of reality itself as a hellish plain from the Realm of Chaos began to merge with the Dark Lands of the material world. The rift threatened to collapsed the entire world upon itself, before it mysteriously stabilized – the void was closed. But the brief gateway into the Realm of Chaos had left its mark. The residue of raw warpdust, materialized essence of Chaos had showered the already blighted landscape of the Dark Lands twisting the realm into a horrific, new plain of arcane terror.
The world was dying, though nobody knew it…