Artor took off his golden helmet, the heat from the jungle felt like a wet rug. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and the inside of his face-mask. He again checked his long-strike crossbow. The chaos filth would be upon them before sundown and there was no time to lose preparing a last stand.

It had been a week since they first encountered the sickening smell of Nurgle. Sure, there had been poxwalkers and shambling corpses along the way but no semblance of an army. First it was the droning, that constant maddening sound of millions of flies. Then came the plagued knights, a mockery of real warriors with tattered armor hanging from their bloated limbs. While ordinary men died as they should from one of Artor’s bolts, these abominations could take up to a dozen hits before stopping their slow but inexorable advance.

For seven days and seven night they had been pursued by the plagued, more joining in the pursuit as the days became nights. All the while, Garlock Suresteel, the lord Celestant in charge of the Dawnbringer crusade, had pressed on. His plan had been to reach the shores and the waiting fleet with enough time to load the ships before the chasing army could catch up. With a desperate race against time they had indeed reached the shore. But as they loaded the last of the crusaders the nauseating sound of their enemy could be heard.

The Lord Celestant called the closest of his lieutenants for a council. They needed to buy time. A handful of stormcast eternals volunteered to make a last stand against the approaching army, to stall them enough so that the ships could leave the shore and set their sails. They had found a strategic spot where a ravine led down to the beach of the anchored ships. This would force the enemy to attack in a tighter formation eliminating their advantage of numbers.

Artor again donned his helmet and joined the other vanguard-raptors in building the fortification. He could see a handful of annihilators restlessly swing their hammers to keep their muscles ready. He turned to Aldrea as she passed a heavy bag of sand to him.

”We have any target priorities?” He asked as he reached up and placed the bag to complete the cover.

She nodded.”Boss says to focus on the flyers. Those large flies we saw a few days back. They will surely try to out-flank us.” She put the crossbow on top of the makeshift wall making sure that she had both the support and the mobility she needed. Artor nodded and copied her preparations. A restless silence spread as more and more of the soldiers finished preparing before the first wave would crash against them.

Brak, a high-ranking vanquisher, raised his voice as the low droning of the enemy started to reach the them.

”Tonight we sacrifice ourselves so that others may live. In the name of Sigmar and Hysh we will make them pay tenfold for every meter they claim. In the name of Sigmar we will stand so that the proud sails of the Meridian crusade may be seen across the water. In truth, in light!”

”In truth, in light!” The others echoed as the first plague drones descended upon the small encampment. With a volley of blessed arrows they fell to the ground like punctured bags spewing yellow puss as they crashed into the sand. More came and both Artor and Aldrea tried to fire as fast as they could hitting bodies as their eyes searched for marks.

The first ranks of chaos warriors crashed into the annihilators and fell back as their limbs where crushed beneath the heavy hammers. Brak’s two-handed sword swung like a windmill cutting down enemies left and right. Aldrea noticed a hulking brute with a cleaver coming up behind Brak and managed to swing her crossbow sending two bolts of death straight into the warrior’s helmet, tearing the head right off as his cleaver was about to strike.

A desperate melee broke out as the stormcasts fought the overwhelming force that tried to reach the beach below. The sand turned into a blood and puss soaked mud making it even more difficult to maneuver. For a time it almost looked like the small force had managed to drive the attackers back. The smell of sickness and malady lay thick in the air making it almost oily. But the heroes of Sigmar steeled themselves for the second wave that inevitably would come. And come it did. Again the huge flies descended upon the ranks as more deformed beasts closed in on the first line of defense. With shields raised the brunt of the force was mitigated, but a few daemon spawns broke through the line and teared into the spear-wielding second rank with a frenzied rage. 

Artor saw the first stormcast go down. A beast tore the vindicator in two sending the torso past the vaguard-raptor’s head before it exploded in a flash of lightning on the beach behind them. It then turned toward the hunters and let out a gurgling scream that almost froze Artor’s blood in its veins. He sent his last bolt straight into the charging beast and swung the crossbow around using it as melee weapon. Aldrea did the same and managed to just dodge the fanged maw that leapt past her. She rolled around drawing another bolt as she finished in a kneeling position. Artor butted the beast that turned toward him and lugned into another attack. A bolt hit it in the side further enraged the beast that managed to sink its teeth in Artor’s left arm. With a crack it tore straight off, sending the vanguard-raptor reeling back in shock. He fell to the ground as the beast turned toward his companion. Aldrea again dodged the clumsy brute felling him with another bolt.

He turned his head toward the beach. His vision was blurred as the life rushed out of him. Didn’t the sails look like they were set? Had the ships made it off shore? He blinked to get the sweat out of his eyes. He needed to be sure. Again he strained his eyes but his vision was suddenly blocked by a corroded metal boot.

”For Sigmar.” Was his last words as the world around him exploded in pain followed by a harsh blue light. 

So that others may live

Garlock stood solemnly at the railing looking out over the camp that had started to take form on the shore beneath him. The Lord-Celestant pondered his next move. It had been over three months since they had left the Living City, and on the way they had lost many good men and women to the dangers that lurked at every turn. Passing over the Sea of Tendrils had proven even more dangerous as the sea had come alive and devoured one of the support ships.

But if his long life had taught him anything it was that the winner was always the one that could adapt the fastest to the ever-changing surroundings. So far they had seen no habitation, but he had given the order to fortify the camp and double the guards on duty for now.

He saw the scouts return, handing the reins of the gryph-chargers to the stable hands. The Pallador-Prime gathered his men for a short conversation before heading in Garlock’s direction.

”Sir, Pallador-Prime Velan reporting for duty.” The boltstorm pistol was slung over his shoulder as he stood attention.

”At ease, soldier” Garlock studied the scout master. In Velan, Garlock saw the very epitome of the ideals of the Hammers of Sigmar. Constant vigilance and a never-wavering courage to face adversity.

”No sign of resistance Sir. No settlements. But we found tracks, so there are humans in these hills. Some sort of hound-like beasts roam the countryside as well, saw them at a distance. We will head out again in the morning, widening our patrol route. Also, the tower can be seen from afar as you come up from the beach. Looks abandoned, Sir.”

Garlock nodded again, dismissing the scout.

He could feel eyes on them as he scanned the cliffs surrounding the beach. The wyldwood was quiet for the moment, but he was sure they were being watched. He left his post and headed down into the ship, making his way towards the captain’s quarters. The coming days would reveal the opposition, all they could do now was prepare for the fight ahead.

Foreign shores

From her hidden vantage point Kaela looked down upon the disembarking army below. The heavy war machines and the agile cavalry scouting the perimeters left her no doubt that this was a conquering army not a war party in search of glory. Large knights in what looked to be golden armor directed the other soldiers as the camp was erected.

She had never seen ships that size before and she counted at least a few hundred of the heavily armored soldiers that seem to lead the army. It had to be over a thousand people on that beach, ready to fight. They needed a plan if they were to defeat such a strong adversary.

It was then a huge dragon landed on the beach and settled in. Kaela reached for her axe, more out of reflex than need. The wyrm was bigger than any she had ever seen or fought. In the mountains she had bested many of its kin but this would be a prize indeed. She looked over to her left and nodded to her companions - They had seen what they needed. They silently withdrew into the wyldwood and started their trek back. The elders needed to hear of this - It would be dire news indeed.

A new enemy

Aden threw another log on the fire sending sparks towards the night sky like fireflies chasing each other. ’Bout the only thing that's the same as home,’ he mused as he sat down on his makeshift stool he had built out of a broken crate. It smelled of dried meat and his belly rumbled. They needed more food. He looked over to his companions for the night. Nat was falling asleep leaning against a barricade made out of barrels, and June nervously peered into the dark holding her rifle ready. It was no use trying to calm her down, she had been on edge ever since they had been attacked at sea.

”So, who do you think lives out here then?” He said trying to strike up a conversation to ease the tension.

”Cannibals I reckon.” Nat said without out opening his eyes. So much for lightening the mood. June didn’t say anything, but Aden swore he could hear her fingers gripping the barrel tighter.

”I reckon it will be a quiet night. June, why don’t you take the first shift and then you wake Nat, alright? He’s been sleeping all day anyway.” She nodded without taking her eyes off the edge of the woods. Aden tried to get as comfortable as his makeshift seat would allow and closed his eyes. He let his hand rest on the sword hilt as he drifted into sleep.

He dreamt of being home. He ate his wife’s famous stew, and they were laughing at something. Suddenly it was dark and she started screaming so loud his ears started ringing. With a jerk he woke up to June’s screaming and a shot was just being fired just inches away from him with a loud bang. He fell backwards hitting the ground with a thump. He drew his sword and stood up trying to get his bearings. He saw June’s face covered in blood, and a few feet away a beast was laying on its side, front legs twitching. Nat was nowhere to be seen.

”What happened?” He said loudly with the musket still ringing in his ears.

”They came out of the woods and took Nat!” June screamed with tears in her eyes. He drew his pistol and starred out into the darkness beyond the torchlight. He could hear what sounded like several snarling beasts and then a high-pitched scream that was cut short. It had sounded like Nat.

Within minutes the camp had awakened and soldiers came pouring out of the tents. But the night was quiet again. The hunger of the land sated for the moment.

A restless night

He woke up with a jerk, the sticky sweet fungus juice still slick in his mouth. Groggily he looked around to get his bearings. It was a cave, that much he was certain. It didn’t smell like it did back home, instead it didn’t smell at all which was weird. But the juice always took him to weird places in his visions so he wasn’t too worried. The cave was pale and white as if it was built of ash. Hailing from Aqshy the shaman was very familiar with the grey powder that gathered everywhere there.

He could see the large hoof prints the bloodthirster had left in the deep white ash that covered the floor. His eyes followed the trail as it exited the cave. He stepped down from the large stone that he had been lying on. The ash burnt his feet but not from its heat. Puzzled, he sat on his haunches and grabbed a fist full of the white powder. It felt like nothing he had ever felt. It was wet and turned into water as he held it in his hand.

He had no more time to reflect upon the strange place he had arrived in as he heard a roar of pain and surprise from the outside. The shaman hurried to the exit and stopped dead in his tracks. Outside was a white plain with no discerning marks stretching as far as his eyes could see. Only a few hundred yards away he could see the huge daemon fighting against an unseen enemy. The wet ash boiled around his legs. It was as if the ground itself tried to swallow the bloodthirster who had sunk to his waist and lost his flaming axe. 

In an angry and defiant roar that shook the ground, the red beast disappeared from sight leaving nothing but a smoldering axe behind and a water-filled pit so deep that Toofsplitta couldn't see the bottom. The Shaman smiled a tooth-filled grin.

”Wait til’ the Boyz hear ’bout dis!” 

He again woke with a jerk, sulphur filling his nostrils. Gorkamorka had shown him how they would slay the daemon. Now all they needed to do was to find this white place.

Premonitions

The black knight’s heavy footsteps echoed in the halls as he strode deeper into the maze of mausoleums and crypts his master called the tomb of Chan Moor, a seemingly unendingly deep cavern network. A dark place filled with the bones of people who’s names had been long forgotten.

He paused in front of an ornamented entrance leading into one of the larger mausoleum at the heart of the maze. The royal tomb served as Lord Borsch throne room and personal quarters. The black knight approached the lord with hesitance. He brought bad news indeed and lord Borsch was not one to appreciate having his slumber interrupted, especially not with news of humans interfering with his plans.

”My Liege, human ships have been sighted off the coast.” He paused observing the vengorian beast resting on a lavish stone throne since long eroded into a sad echo of its former splendor. No movements had been detected so he continued in his hollow droning voice.

”Stormcasts they s” His sentence was cut short. A strong arm shot out as the wings suddenly opened. The claw hit the knight straight in the chest sending him several meters across the room smashing into a column that shook violently.

The lord stretched his leathery wings and set his eyes on the knight who lay motionless on the floor in front of him. He slowly rose and the crackling of bones and joints echoed in the large room.

“Always these filthy humans sticking their noses in things that don't belong to them.” He hissed in anger. Now fully awake he paced the rather large hall while the few servants present cowered in the shadows. The knight had gotten up and knelt on the floor waiting for the Lord to calm down. After a few minutes the hulking Lord stopped and gazed at the knight.

“Knight! The second these humans reveal their intentions you will report to me. Mistress Vai will not tolerate any failures. With the plan at a crucial moment as we set our sights on the ancient tower I will tear your arms from their sockets if I find out you didn’t come straight to me. Begone!” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

The black knight didn’t show and emotions as he bowed deeply. He had seen lifetimes of death and mayhem, but inside he trembled as his lord spat out his orders. He would immediately send the critters to keep a close eye on the Stormcasts’ camp. He was very much in need of his arms.

A plan foiled

Kaela paced the small camp outside the hall of the elders. She impatiently awaited an audience to speak before them. The clans needed to act fast in this matter, and she knew the elders would be dragging their feet like they always did. For them, indecisiveness was a virtue, always twisting every decision into a waiting game instead of facing the problem head on.

”You must never forget the experience of living” they always said, dismissing her like a child. The fat bastards, they had never experienced combat like she or her fellow Everbloods had. She despised them for their phlegmatic arrogance. They sat on their wooden thrones that almost couldn’t contain their obese bodies, never amounting to anything. The Allfather had gifted them with wisdom, but in her eyes it made them almost incapable of fending for themselves. They grew weak as other people fed them and them helped them at every turn.

They should all pray to the Daughter instead. She granted them the strength and ferocity to protect the clans from all enemies. And the land was ridden with dangers. But the tradition said that the young worshiped the Daughter to help with the defence of the clans while the elders worshiped the Allfather that gave them wisdom and endurance to live beyond their age.

She turned as the large double doors slowly opened and the herald motioned for her to enter. She started to climb the stairs but as she reached halfway she saw a drop of blood hit the steps. She put the fingers to her nose to try and stop the nose bleed. A bad omen indeed. Blood was never to be spilt if not for the Daughter.

’Skulls for the throne’, she thought as she felt the heavy doors close behind her. 

An audience

Aden started to feel the weight of his armour as the march toward the tower continued. They had left the beach a few days ago, and the ruin looming on the horizon didn’t seem to come any closer. June had climbed up on a wagon claiming they needed a scout to watch for ambushes. She had good eyes, so Aden had given her permission to make a sniper’s nest up there. As the commander of the squad he tried to bestow his experience on the younger recruits. With Nat gone, he was left with a handful of recruits that had never experiences the horrors of war.

The eternals never seemed to tire so the tempo was gruelling as the crusade rolled forward. Aden had heard fighting in front of them a few times but only small skirmishes with the local fauna. The infernal hounds of this region never seemed to tire either, always looking for an opportunity to attack and tire their pray.

Being rather far back with the the supply train, Aden and his crew had yet to see any action, which suited him just fine. There would be combat soon enough, and only a fool would look forward to it. Many of the younger commanders sought the fighting as a way to prove themselves, but Aden had seen so many wars that he felt he had nothing left to prove.

He checked his pistol again, something he did out of habit. You didn’t want a critical failure the moment you needed it the most. The service pistols they used were famous for their blanks and failures to fire so you needed to maintain a rigorous regime of gun maintenance.

They managed to wolf down a quick meal as the train ground to a halt a few hours later.

Apparently a wagon had broken down ahead of them. It was then June spotted enemy movement in the short underbrush.

”Enemies to the left, hundred meters out” she shouted before her rifle rang, sending an ominous echo across the surrounding hills. Only seconds later, a hail of arrows rained down hitting a few of the slower soldiers. Aden, out of sheer combat experience, had swiftly rolled under the cart next to him to avoid the arrows.

”To arms men! On me!”, he barked as he came out on the other side with pistol drawn. A few followed him as he started to run toward the ambushers. He heard more rifles fire behind him as the freeguild handgunners returned the fire. More arrows rained down claiming a few more as he and a squad of freeguild guards closed in. He could see the enemy now. A small group of humans wielding an assortment of melee weapons defended the archers behind them.

Dressed in light armour, with axes swinging the rag-tag humans charged his men. Aden fired his pistol before drawing his sword. A marauder swiftly parried the slug with the shield barely slowing down. With her face painted for war, she screamed in anger as she lunged at a guardsman standing next to Aden. The guard failed to keep her at a distance with his spear, and she was upon him almost like the hounds they had encountered. Her axe sank deep into his chest before she tackled him to the ground without stopping.

Aden attacked another ambusher equipped with a huge battle axe. Aden managed to sidestep the attack and came inside of the barbarian’s reach. He made a few quick jabs and managed to injure the arm making the enemy drop his axe in rage. But the brute grabbed him in a bear hug crushing the wind out of the surprised commander. Aden felt the life quickly drain from him as he fought for his life to get out of the deadly hold. Suddenly, he felt warm blood spray his face as a shot split open the warrior’s head. Aden fell to the ground, silently thanking June’s keen eyes.

But he didn’t have time to take a breath as another, shorter female warrior was upon him. He rolled to the left to avoid the strikes and managed to jump back upon his feet. He circled the opponent looking for an opening. She had a snarl on her face and armed only with a small buckler and an axe she was very agile. She lunged out and with her shield almost smashed the sword out of Aden’s hand.

But the numbers were on his side and more soldiers came running. She made a short disappointed shout before she retreated back over the hill. They had killed five of the enemy soldiers, but he had lost more men than that. The arrows alone had slain eight of the wagoneers, and three of the guards had been mortally wounded in the skirmish.

The stormcasts chased after the ambushers but failed to locate them as they knew the terrain too well. At least June had survived, she was one of the last survivors from home. He had promised her mother that he would see to it that she survived. It was the last promise he would ever make. And she had saved his life today.

If you want to reenact this story fragment you can download the battleplan 

The long trek

Forian approached the coveted ruins in darkness. His wings carried him high above the ground so the few guards still awake at the foot of the structure were oblivious to his presence. He landed silently on one of the shattered pillars above and studied the encampment below. More humans had arrived, and they had started to fortify the entrance and the sideways up to the foot of the huge ruins. But his eyes sought other things than defences and soldiers tonight. He knew that his nights of undisturbed exploration was numbered and he needed to find a way down into the structure. The pesky stormdrakes would soon start to swarm the towers, and he would have to fight at every turn. 

He already knew of the poorly guarded entrances, he was more interested in the what was hidden within. From his vantage point he could see a few individuals that had made camp higher up in the ruins. The humans climbed the ancient tower clinging to dreams of petty riches. On his nightly visits to the empty halls and half-razed floors of the huge structure he would sometime come a cross these morsels.

He left his perch and flew closer to the centre of the structure. There had to be a way down into the heart of it. Moving silently between pillars, he searched the shattered halls and rooms that littered the ruins. At the end of a caved-in dining hall he found what he was looking for. By moving the heavy stones aside, he uncovered a set of stairs leading down into the darkness below. But they were too narrow for his bulky frame. He opened his mouth and made a silent call for his trusted allies. Soon a horde of bats came swarming down and passed around him into the dark stairwell below. It wouldn’t be long before he would know what secrets were hidden below.

Restlessly, he awaited the return of the bats. He jumped from the pillar, landing with unnatural silence on the stone slab forty feet below. Around a fire he could see three figures huddled close for warmth. Even if they felt cold, the blood in their veins was at a perfect temperature. He licked his lips and grabbed the closest one with his heavy claws. The scream was cut short as his claws crushed the frail human. The other two awoke to the scream, and he grabbed the next by the neck, his razor sharp fangs tearing into the defenceless man, spraying hot blood into the hungry mouth of the vengorian lord.

The third man stood in fear as he saw the huge beast drinking greedily from his companions. He ran. Better to live a coward’s life than to die a brave death, that was the human motto after all, Forian mused. He cared little for the fleeing human. He had had enough to sate his thirst for blood. For now.

As the life drained from the corpses, he could hear the bats return. With a blood-soaked grin he looked up into the dark sky. Good news indeed. If he could only slow down the approaching army enough so that he could further explore his newfound way into the lower regions of the structure.

A nightly discovery

Alexa leaned forward, laying herself flat against the powerful neck of the draconith as it dove. She could feel the muscles tense beneath the magnificent creature’s smooth skin as the wind rushed past them. Her scouting party had deviated to investigate a huge caldera shrouded in clouds. It was further than they had anticipated, so they had sought shelter for the night just below the snow line of the huge volcano.

She had left early on her own to scout ahead. The morning had been uneventful. She was surprised how few aerial predators they had seen since landing at the beach a few months back. A few had been chased away but nothing to distract her from the enormous mountain that rose like a stone wall in front of her.

It was mid day when Alexa suddenly heard an ear-shattering roar that shook the very mountains around her and triggered a land slide below. The monstrous roar seemed to have come from an area to the right, where a giant glacier stretched for miles. She had chosen to pass to its side for better winds.

She came out of a dive as draconith passed the tree line and out on the open ice of the glacier. Here she saw a sight that made her turn hard on the reins of her companion. On the flat ice, a huge sea of filthy orruks circled what looked like the largest bloodthirster she had ever seen. Standing more than fifty meter tall, the red beast had sunk to its waist into the ice as the savage greenskins threw everything they had at it. The daemon was mortally wounded and she could see the orruks slowly circling it to keep it there as the shamans summoned the powers of their god. The ice started to boil beneath the enormous creature, who seemed to wail in both pain and surprise. The icy water started to act as acid and the Daemon succumbed to its wounds.

Soon the spectacle was over. As the head was the only part of the demon still visible above the ice, an orruk more than a head higher than the rest stepped forward. With a huge cleaver he swung with all his might against the creature’s head resting on the ice. With a shattering sound the horn the daemon broke off. The orruk climbed up on the head and raised the horn to the sky as the warparty started to cheer. The voices reaching a fever pitch, banging their swords on their shields.

From her position on the ridge line above she scanned the army for leaders. She could quickly identify a few but it was one that stood out more that the others. A shaman with a glowing staff that commanded the respect of all the others.

The shaman held a victorious speech to the masses when he suddenly stopped and turned around. He looked straight at Alexa and started to scream orders to his warriors. Quickly, she dove over the glacier’s ridge and headed back down the mountain. Two large rocks flew past her before she managed to put enough distance between her and the orruks. A few vulture-like creatures took up the chase but the draconith managed to smash two of them with its heavy wings. The others retreated cowardly, leaving the Knight-draconis alone. The Lord-Celestant needed to hear this.

Teefsplitta abruptly stopped his speech and turned his head around. His eyes fell on a small dragon crouching on a ridge line not too far away. He balked at the others and raised his green glowing staff high in the air invoking the powers of Gorkamorka.

The creature disappeared out of sight and he moved toward the edge of the glacier to better direct the rippa-vulchas as they took up the chase for the intruder. Quickly the aerial battle disappeared out of sight, and as he looked out over the steep cliff side he felt it. He first felt it on the tip of his tongue. He licked the air, tasting it. The sweet tastes of war. He searched the horizon for any signs and his beady eyes strained as they stopped at a tall structure that rose like a blackened finger against the pale backdrop. He smiled a tooth-filled grin. The daemon had just been a test, a way to prove themselves to Gorkamorka. It was down there that he really wanted them to fight. And they were ready. He nodded to one of his underlings who again raised the horn of the felled daemon in triumph. The roars rose to a fever pitch as the Orruks gathered and started to move down the mountain side. They all could sense what was to come. 

A chilling discovery

They had moved closer to the fortress as the night had fallen. But Aramelia wasn’t there to attack.

She was searching for something she suspected would give her the upper hand as the high and mighty order would begin their assault on the structure. She could always count on what was buried around these old ruins of war.

Aramelia channeled the amethyst energies, letting the purple mist reach out and seep into the ground, searching for what lied beneath. It took only a few seconds before a cruel smile appeared on her lips. She loved these old places where humans had come and gone through the ages. These old grounds were filled with corpses ready to rise if she just commanded them. The old bones from ages past would be the perfect distraction before she and her soldiers could spring the trap.

She turned to the skeletal commander in his crimson cloak.

”This is where we will make the ambush, tell your men to be ready at dawn. We will keep an eye on the enemy camp and let you know.”

The skeleton didn't give any indication that it had heard the command. Aramelia turned on her heel and moved quietly back into the woods joining the rest of her unit. The undead had no choice but to heed her words, and she had to inform master Borsch of her plans.

Odessa peered into the blackness beyond the ring of tents. She knew the enemy was watching them from the cover of darkness. But the dogs would never dare to attack them at when there would be a fair fight. No, they always hid in their hollows like cowards.

While there were several enemies out there to keep track on one particular stood out to Odessa. Forian Borsch, the vampire lord, was a name already familiar to her long before the Meridian Crusade brought her to these shores. They had met on the battlefield before he even had become the hideous monster he were today. She had sworn that one day she would crush his back heart sending him to a death he couldn’t come back from. That day might come sooner than she had dared to hope. It was as if Sigmar placed her there for this purpose. She had given herself to the God-king and in her devotion he had granted her this gift. She would not squander it.

”The sermon is about to begin M’lady” a servant in blue robes informed her. She nodded and tore her eyes from the darkened tree line. Tomorrow they would march to war, and tonight her words would set their heart ablaze with the righteous fury of Sigmar. They would hear her and know it true. In truth, in light.

Gorm Skullbreaker nodded to the warriors standing guard as he came up on the wall. The ancient fort had seen better days, but the massive stone walls were still a formidable sight. There were a few weak points, but he had ordered the men to fortify these. He moved past his guards for a last inspection before the assault. The scouts had seen a large stormcast camp only an hour's march from here. Reports from other sources told him that the main part of that army had gone around and made camp on the north side of the dried-out lake. His job was clear. Stop the encamped army from taking the fort and thereby denying them the southern flank.

”I’ve seen movement at the edge of the forest,” one of the warriors pointed his spear in the direction of a line of dark trees. ”Didn’t look like those humans either. Was hard to tell.”

Gorm nodded in silence. There were more enemies out there than just the silver armoured soldiers from the north. The restless dead had been seen more frequently as well. Indeed a bad omen.

”The rite is at midnight. Don’t miss it, we need all the strength we can get,” Gorm informed his soldiers. ”The Daughter will provide plenty.” He moved past the guards and continued down the walkway towards the next guard-post. It would be a long night, but if the Daughter willed it they would be spilling blood in her name at dawn. And she was always hungry for more blood

They all felt restless after the long trek from the volcano toward the tower and the promise of a worthy enemy. With almost no opposition during their journey, the boys had become irritated and fought between themselves out of boredom. Maddog had been forced to break up fights on a daily basis, but their energy would soon be put to good use.

The accursed tower never seemed to get any closer. ”Bloody useless piece of stone that is. Hate it already,” he complained to his next in command, who grunted in reply. But his ritual bones glowed with the promise of battle so he pressed on, beating down on anyone who lagged behind. The bones had were never failed him.

But finally, as the night started to fade and the horizon burned red from the approaching sun, the enormous structure loomed large in the distance. In the lingering darkness of the tower’s long shadow, the battle-hungry green skins picked up their pace. They were close now. Maddog felt the tangy and savory taste of battle in the air. He broke into a sprint, and his boys were quick to follow his lead. With flaring nostrils and glimmering eyes they ran toward the breaking dawn and violence it would bring.

On the eve of the battle

It had been a bloody battle and the carrion birds circled the deserted battlefield. Their harrowed song echoed in the silent valley. Everywhere you looked, mangled bodies lay strewn in the mud. The blood had soaked into old seabed, making it a nightmarish quagmire of mud, weapons, and bodies. In the bluish light of the morning the landscape was grim and unforgiving.

The Armies of Order had broken through the northern defences leading down into the valley early in the day. But as they had engaged the guard protecting the structure, they quickly realised that they had another problem. From the seabed bodies had started to rise, and the undead forced them fight on two fronts. But Garlock had quickly regrouped his army, letting the Order of Azyr spearhead a counter attack. They targeted the vampires, weakening the deadwalker hordes to the point that they aimlessly wandered the battlefield without engaging the enemy. With the fury of a hundred men, the vengorian lord Forian Borsch, leader of the Soulblight gravelords, stood his ground. The soldiers of Sigmar closed in around the huge vampire. But as they moved in to finish the job, the war cries of the orruks took them by surprise, and in the universal confusion, Forian Borsch once again managed to escape his fate.

Both the stormcasts and the soulblights had been taken by surprise as the orruks came out of nowhere. In the north, the main crusade fighting force had been tied up trying to defend the supply train. Waves of boar-riding greenskins managed to drive a wedge through the soldiers separating the lesser-armoured contingent from the heavily-armoured knights resulting in a bloodbath.

As the sun stood at its highest, the greenskins threatened to run over the stormcasts. Only the cool-headed decisions of Garlock Suresteel managed to turn the battle around for a second time. He focused his presence in the north, letting the frenzied orruks fight both the garrison of warriors and his own men and women.  

South of the canyon a battle at the strategically important fort raged as all sides tried to claim it for their own. Waves and waves of attacks were repelled by the warriors from the local clans who fought savagely, enraged by the blood-oath to their god. As the sun set they had held their flank even if the walls were stained with the blood from both human and orruk alike. 

Odessa Twiceborn, the stormcast leader of the southern flank, had been carried back grievously wounded. As much could be said about Arabella Moarte, who had led the undead army to take the fort. She had been sent to torpor by a well-aimed spear and was thrown back into the night from whence she came.  

In the chaos and confusion outside the fort, Gorm Skullbreaker had managed to best his greenskin counterpart in an epic duel. Both leaders were fierce fighters and only as the sun set did Gorm emerge victorious, sending the orruk leader flying down from the wall.   

In the lakebed below, the sun set fast, and as the last sliver of daylight painted a stark line of gold on the enormous ruin the gates fell and greenskins poured by the hundreds into the tower bringing mayhem and slaughter with them. The clansmen managed to stop the intrusion by the first courtyard and closed the gates to the inner sanctum behind them. Frustrated, Teefsplitta ordered some of his boys to start climbing up into the structures above to find a way in. 

With no clear enemy in sight, the ard boys began fighting amongst themselves. The violent energy of the battle drove them into a rage and Teefsplitta had to send them away chasing the remaining stormcasts. As the night fell the orruks started to roam trying to find more enemies to fight. But Garlock had pulled back too far and left in the dark valley was only the dead.