Jump to content

SGWA's Slow Grow Narrative League.


Templeton

Recommended Posts

Gothrek Ironanvil cursed himself as he saw the Khorne warriors change diretions and begin heading toward his small band of Fyreslayers.  He had been overly confident and moved too quickly int enemy territory.  He had outpaced this main force and was now about to be engaged by a far superior force.  The one bit of good luck was the fortress ruins he and his warriors had just positioned themselves in.  Well, if this was to be blood day, then so be it...  He slammed the shaft of his latchkey axe into the ground.  "Clan!!! I make my stand here!  I shall not be moved... who amoung you is with me?"  I shout went up from the Auric Hearthgaurd as they encircled their general bringing their magmapikes to the ready.  The 5 Vulkite Berzerkers slammed thier axes together and moved to block the entrance closest to the Khorne horde rapidly approaching.  They would die to delay the chaos minions and buy Gothrek an extra few moments.

The impact of forces was astounding the warriors of Khorne blood thirsty as ever.  True to his word, Gothrek moved not a step directing his warriors and voicing the rune chants to release the power within Ur gold runes within his warrior's flesh.  Inspite of all his warriors could do, the battle was slowly turning against them.  There were just too many enemies to force back.

When things were looking darkest Gothrek heard a Vulkite horn and looked to see Torgun Sheildbreaker, his clans' Grimwrath Berzerker charging across the open ground with a force of Auric Berzerkers and another contigent of Vulkite Berzerkers.  Torgun's forces slammed into the rear of the warrior's of Khorne preventing them from providing support to the warriors already attacking Gothrek's position.  He smiled in spite of himself.  "Look lads...we have theses dogs right where we want them!"  

Another volley from the Auric Hearthguard and the enemy lines began to collapse.  Yet in spite of their heavy losses the followers of Khorne refused to retreat and pressed their failed attack.  The fyreslayers axes and magmapikes continued to drop enemies with nearly every stroke and shot until finially there were no enemy left standing before them.  Victory belonged to Clan Storgundren this day, but the cost had been high.  Gothrek finally lifted his axe and moved to check on the wounded as the survivors of his war band began to plunder the dead.  Torgun himself picking a rather powerful looking axe covered with runes.  Gothrek recognized the runes of power upon it, and knew that axe had been forged by a Runemaster.  "I think you find that weapon useful Torgun."  Torgun turned and merely grunted in reply giving it a few test swings then he smiled a snaggled tooth grin.  "Torgun like" was all he said.

Gothrek snapped orders to his remaining fyreslayers and they began improving the defenses.  Gothrek could ill afford to press forward until the rest of his forces arrived.  "Lets get those walls fortified.  We are going to be here a bit."

Thank you Wes Babcock for a great game today.  My Auric Hearthguard will get a promotion and my Grimwrath Berzerker will take an artifact.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ungaro loped along easily behind the Blood Warriors.  The weight of his Portal of Skulls gnawed at his arm, but he had been a Bloodsecrator for nearly fifteen years, and he would carry the damned icon wherever he went.  He knew the power it could unleash.  Ahead of him, Tharex cracked his whipped over the heads of the Blood Warriors, goading them to range farther and farther ahead of the Slaughterstorm that moved slower some miles behind.  The sadistic Bloodstoker has plied the whip since sunrise, and now Ungaro found his small band in a small grove dominated by a rocky mound.
“Halt!”
Ungaro’s voice rang through the trees, and Tharex paused missed lash to regard the superior member of Mordex Kharn’s Gorechosen.  As he stared into the deepening forest, Ungaro could make out scurrying movements and gibbering chanting.  Then to forest exploded, revealing an enormous slavering ball that was the most massive squig any of the Bloodbound had ever seen.
“To the high ground!  Tharex, with me!  Blood Warriors behind the hill!”
The extremely muscled warriors moved with a quickness that belied their size to follow their general’s orders.  Ungaro quickly climbed the outcrop of rock with Tharex on his heels.  Feeling the weight of the Portal, he finally jabbed it into the ground and chanted the words he had been taught through ritualistic torture.  As the Portal opened, Ungaro was bathed in the pure hatred that only the Blood God could bring, and Tharex began to laugh maniacally.  The Blood Warriors unleashed an otherworldly howl, and Ungaro knew that Khorne was with them on this day.
“We will hold this ground and deliver the skulls of all who oppose us this day.  Khorne will smile upon us as the blood flows and the skulls are laid at his feet!”
As quickly as Ungaro had ascended the outcrop, the massive Colossal Squig had bounded right into his warriors and was tearing them apart, but the warriors were made of sterner stuff than mere mortals, and even as they fell, they cleaved at the squig, opening obscene gashes in its hide.  Tharex whipped the warriors into a blind fury, and the returned the pure anger of Khorne onto the squig, cutting it down to a less fearsome foe.
As he turned to survey the field, Ungaro saw the reason for the squig’s presence. A horde of grots emerged from the forest, moons emblazoned upon their shields.  He had claimed more than his share of grot blood during his service to Khorne, but these pint-sized greenskins appeared to well organized, moving in a formation to overtake his position.  
As the greenskins closed in, a horn sounded behind Ungaro, and he turned to see the rest of his vanguard.  The Skullreapers, from whose ranks he has risen, fell upon the Colossal Squig with all the hate and vengeance for which their kind was known.  The Mighty Skullcrushers lowered lances as they raced at the flank of the grot horde.  And the hounds that had mysteriously appeared weeks before followed the brazen juggernauts into the flank.
The Skullreapers were rewarded for their charge by cleaving the squig into a bloody mess, but his exploding bulk claimed one of their numbers.  The Skullcrushers were halted in their charge by two morning star wielding Fanatics that battered the juggernauts, but were summarily crashed beneath grinding hooves.  
From the back of the grot horde, a shaman was casting spells that continually battered all of Ungaro’s men.  He knew that he would have to cut through the sea of green to silence this affront to Khorne’s dominion, but he had to hold the ground with his portal, or else it would close, and the aid of Khorne would vanish.  As the Bloodbound were assaulted by the grots, Tharex did not forget his trade, and he continued to whip the men into a bloodthirsty frenzy.  Even as men fell to the multitude of grot spears, they thinned the horde and began to press the advantage.  When victory appeared certain, and the last squealing grot was separated from his skull, the skulking grot boss rushed into the remaining Skullcrusher, and in a feat of pure suicide, he slayed the half-deamon, half machine and its rider.  The remaining blood warrior swung his goreglaive into the warboss, cleaving him into three pieces with one swing.  
The shaman that had wreaked so much damage was the only living greenskin on the field, and with a final cackle, he disappeared into the woods.
Letting the Portal of Skulls drop, Ungaro heaved a sigh of relief.  Many of his men were wounded or dead, but that was the life of a Bloodbound warrior.  Khorne cared not from whence the blood flowed, and he was just as satisfied to see his followers slain as his enemy.  The day was one, and he, Ungaro, would live to see another day.  Another day to spill blood for the Blood God.  Another to reap skulls to be laid at Khorne’s blood-soaked feet.  As he descended the rocky outcrop to see how many men were salvageable and how many skulls he might claim, Ungaro noticed a blood-stained amulet buried amongst the dead grots.  As he retrieved the it, his hand picked out the mark of the Blood God.  Surely these unworthy nothings had not held such a gift.  He slid the amulet into a pouch on his belt.  He would have to consult Brundar, his old friend and chief Slaughterpriest to Mordex Kharn, and see what powers Khorne had had gifted him this day.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

 

Torgun Shieldbreaker cursed as Vulkites Berzerker stitched his wound.  This day had not gone as planned.  He spat blood into the fire as he looked around at his much depleted Fyreslayer patrol.  Ungaro had lied to him, this had not been a solitary band of tree living Aelves, it had been a sizable force.  He should have expected no less from a follower of Khorne, but the offer of Ur Gold had been real.  "I'll have my revenge on Ungaro, Torgun growled.  I swear it!"

Earlier that day:

The small band of 20 Aelves or so were right where Ungaro had told him and Torgun surveyed the ground.  He turned to Drakor Runesmiter, "We will distract them here and here." He pointed to the improvised map drawn on the ground.  "You tunnel up to here with your Auric Hearthguard and open fire into their ranks.  We will follow up with a charge and this fight will be over before it starts.  Any questions?  Good, tonight we will be dividing a chest of Ur Gold."

Leading his Hearthguard Bezerkers and the Vulkite Beserkers made enough noise to draw the fire of the wood Aelves as they advanced.  Focusing fire on his Vulkites, the Aelves never saw the tunneling Auric Hearthguard until it was too late.  Exploding from the ground Drakor took up position with the Auric Hearthguard and opened fire.  The magmapikes roared as fist sized balls of molten rock slammed into the Aelve Archers. A dozen fell in an instant and Torgun shouted at his Vulkites to charge, but in the fog of battle they did not hear his command and continued their march across open ground toward the Aelves.

Torgun grimaced as another stitch was pulled to close his wound.  That was when this attack turned poorly.  Out of the very trees around his men wood Aelves appeared and the sun seemed to blocked from view by the sheer volume of arrows.  The Auric Hearthguard were all slain.  As quickly as they had killed... they were all dead.  Drakor did not escape unscathed, so grave were his injuries that even now he might die.

This had been no small band of wood aelves.  This had been an ambush.  Yes... Torgun vowed an oath he would have his revenge on Ungaro, but first... "Harfgor, send a runner to Runeson Rangtar.  Ask him to send the clan, we have a contract to kill some Aelves."  To the rest of his band he spoke, "Get some rest lads tomorrow we start tracking these pointy eared Aelves."

Yes, he would fulfill his oath of revenge against Ungaro, but first the contract must be completed.  After all an oath is an oath, but Ur Gold is Ur Gold.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Ryan and I played the Watch Tower Battleplan this past weekend.  I managed to achieved a major victory, but only because the game ended with a lucky roll for me at the end of round 3.  One more round and I think all would have been lost for my Fyreslayers.  Below is the narrative.

 

Runeson Rangtor grimaced as he surveyed the land before him.  This would not be easy.  He and his clan had finally caught up with the Wood Aelves that had so ravaged Torgun's war band, and now had them cornered in a watchtower.  He knew they had sent word of his army's arrival to request reinforcements; the time to strike was now.  With a nod he ordered his forces to charge the stronghold.

It had been a long and bloody day for both sides.  As expected reinforcements did arrive for the Aelves of the outpost, but it had been too late to be of help.  By the time they reached the tower, Rangtor, Drakor, Torgun and their Fyreslayers had taken the watchtower and entrenched themselves.  Still it had been a close thing, even a few minutes sooner and Rangtor's forces would have been caught between the hammer and the anvil, as Runemaster Gungrim was fond of saying.

Still the contract with Ungaro had been fulfilled.  It was time to collect the Ur Gold payment and to pay an Oath Debt to that particular warlord.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Torgun stood upon the battlements with the Hearthguard Bezerkers, as he watched the approach of Ungaro and his warband of Khorne followers.  He smiled inspite of himself, knowing that plans had well been laid for the retribution due Ungaro.  Gothrek and his Auric Hearthguard were even now on their way to flank the Khorne warband.  Gothrek, using his ability to control the flow of magma beneath the earth to quickly tunnel into position.

"Ungaro" Torgun shouted from the battlements, "I do hope that chest your warriors carry is our payment!  Our contract is completed the Aelves have been defeated.  "It is!" was Ungaro's only reply.  "Good that keeps things simple.  I only have one oath against you then," Torgun shouted back.  Ungaro, feigning surprise replied, "An oath against me... whatever could the cause of that?"  Ungaro smiled and nodded to his champions and his warriors... soon there would be more blood for Khorne.  His units began to spread out, taking up position to attack from multiple sides.  "You sent us into a trap, with the intent that you could avoid payment if we all fell in battle, and I am afraid that cannot be allowed to go unanswered.  So set the Ur Gold down and come receive your payment for the betrayal."  Torgun thumbed the edge of his axe as he spoke.  "Ungaro ordered his men to charge and shouted to Torgun, your numbers are much reduced by the fighting with the Aelves and while your warriors fight well, your blood flow for Khorne and we will take your skulls for his throne."

Torgun, smiled as his Hearthguard Bezerkers took positions to defend the walls.  "No Ungaro, today you blood flows," he whispered to himself as he charged down the battlements and out of the watchtower into the thick of the fight.  He pulled strength and fury from the many Ur Gold runes hammered into his flesh and fell into the battle frenzy he knew so well.  Many Bloodwarriors  would fall to his axe today.

As planned Gothrek and his Auric Hearthguard erupted from the ground just as Ungaro's warriors assaulted the walls of the watchtower, and they blasted them time and again with magmapikes until their lines collapsed and they were forced back.  Vulkite Bezerkers streamed from hiding places in the ruins surrounding the watchtower to close off the escape of any fleeing Bloodbound. 

Torgun faught his way through nearly a dozen warriors and cut down two of Ungaro's heroes.  As the last fell, he turned to face Ungaro, only to see the Khorne Warlord falling back with what little remained of his warband, the chest of Ur Gold still sitting on the ground where Ungaro had been.  His battle rage gone, Torgun walked over to chest as Gothrek approached.  Together they opened the chest to reveal their payment, and Gothrek smiled as he looked at Torgun.  "Are you going after him?"  Torgun shrugged, "we have been paid what is owed us, and I have paid my debt to him." 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

First I want to thank Ryan for a most exciting and fun game.  He destroyed my army, but with a bold go for broke move and some luck with the dice I managed to pull out a victory in the end.

For our league players, because of how the game played out, I have elected not to take any promotions or artifacts from this battle as the narrative is much better without doing so, as you will see.

I hope you all enjoy my attempt at a narrative:

Herthgar, Runesmiter for clan Vultrex paused in his calling on the power of the magma to tunnel beneath the battlefield.  His eyes closed as he concentrated, and his thoughts went to what must be happening above.  Herthgar led a small elite band of vulkite bezerkers and was tunneling far behind the enemies front lines.  His task was to destroy the wood aelf artifact that was being used in some foul ritual to actually awaken the very forest in this region.  If they succeeded Clan Vultrex's campaign in these woods would be stalled at best and ended at worst.  Even now many a brave fyreslayer was preparing a frontal assault on the wood aelves forces, a charge doomed to fail; but that was the plan.  Those warriors and heroes had volunteered to be the bait knowing they would likely die.  Just as these brave lads behind him had, and most if not all of them were doomed as well.

"Is something amiss Runesmiter Herthgar?"  The question pulled him back to moment and had been raised by Arthger the Karl of this vulkite band and his longtime friend.  "No, Arthgar... nothing is wrong.  I simply must be sure of our position and the timing or all is lost."  Arthger looked very serious as he replied, "nothing is lost if we fight well."  "Aye, you are right my friend", Herthgar replied "but fret not for Grimnir sent me a vision this morning and you shall fight very well indeed my old friend... very well indeed."

Herthgar closed his eyes and reached his mind and spirit into the very earth.  He could feel the ebb and flow of the strength and power of the ground around him and through it could sense the forces above surging forward.  He sensed the ground open several hundred yards from his current position.  That would be Mizgran his brother bringing the unit of Auric Hearthgaurd within magmapike range of the aelves.  He smiled as thought of the surprise and damage that would be inflicted upon their lines before they could react, still he knew it would not be enough.  "To Grimnir's Forge brother" he thought.  The time had come, he called on the power of the earth and its magma as he tunneled upward now. 

Suddenly the earth opened before him and daylight flooded in upon the vulkites around him.  They surged out of the tunnel forming their line quickly.  Herthgar looked around quickly his positioning was nearly perfect, but the aelves had not entirely taken the bait.  The artifact was before them with the wizard working his incantations, but another unit of warriors was quickly moving to intercept the vulkites.  Arthgar, also surveying the field, gave a great shout.  "For Grimnir and Clan Vultrex!" as he and his vulkites charged the wizard and the vulkites. 

Herthgar watched his friend for a moment, then began running not for the battle, but to the artifact.  It was his task to destroy the focus of the ritual for all their clan's hopes lay on destroying it.

The battle surged swiftly around him as he made his last dash to the stone artifact, and he searched it with his spirit and mind.  It was powerful, but it was old stone and old stones have their cracks.  He quickly found the spot he needed and pulled his Latchkey axe from his back.  As he raised the weapon to strike he was distracted as he caught sight of his friend Arthgar.  The aelves, war dancers, had slain the rest of his vulkites and surrounded him.  It had been at this moment that Arthgar's defenses had failed him and two swords pierced him in the side and back.  Arthgar saw Herthgar staring at him and blood spattered from his mouth as he shouted, "GRIMNIR'S BEARD... STRIKE NOW!"

Herthgar struck and stone cracked and split.  In blast hot white light the artifact shattered and fell to the ground.  The ritual could not be completed.  Herthgar and his warband had succeeded. 

Herthgar, wood aelves approaching him now from all sides, looked back to Arthgar.  Arthgar fell to one knee as the leader of the war dancers raised his blade for killing blow, and his mouth moved as he tried to speak blood flowing down from his lips into his beard.  Herthgar could swear he heard a whisper of his friend's voice reach him, "Fight well, indeed."  Arthgar smiled at Herthgar his bloody teeth showing as the blade fell.  A dozen or more aelf blades were raised to strike Herthgar, but he did not raise his weapon in defense.  He only thought, "I'll see you in Grimnir's Forge my friend... soon.

Then Herthgar thought no more.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

I would like to thank Ryan Chaimberlain for a great game last week. It was Death vs Aelves and we used the ritual narrative scenario. We decided that Death made more sense to be conducting the ritual. It was a great narrative game with Arkhan symbolically hopping off of his mount to just use his weapons against Ryan's Aelf Hero. I am not familiar with the Aelvish miniatures so I did what I could to identify them. It is kind of long, but I hope everyone enjoys it.

The Return, by Ryan Copeland

“I hate this place,” thought Arkhan. The realm of life sickened him, being the opposite of his desert homeland. Arkhan the Black sat atop Razarak, the great abyssal terror gifted to him by the Lord of Death himself, and scanned the site of the ritual that would begin to Nagash’s hold on this horrible realm. Beside him stood Conrad Grimwald, the Vampire Lord who had served him well in recent years. Though, as always, he did not fully trust the vampire. “It would seem that the rumors of expeditions not returning from the realm of life are unwarranted,” said Conrad. “I would imagine that the Aelves have many defenses around any realm gates. Well, the ones that they know about,” Arkhan replied with a smile.  They had come through a gate to the underworld that only Arkhan and Nagash himself could know about. They were here to perform a ritual that would allow Nagash himself to begin gathering the souls of the dead from this realm, further bolstering his rising power. “All roads lead to the underworld in the end after all,” he said. 

                The ritual site was a pillar used for sacrifice in ancient times. This was the perfect place to begin the corruption of this realm. Arkhan scanned the area. He and Conrad were on the edge of a wooded area near to the pillar. Conrad’s wife, The Lady Lioba Grimwald, was busy raising more dead from the mass graves of this place. In addition it was conveniently once a site of a great battle, further bolstering their numbers. Arkhan had already mass risen a group of the dead and they were with him in the forest, unfeeling skeletal minions answering his call. Lioba, an accomplished Necromancer,  had almost completed summoning a full force for herself in the forest on the other side of the clearing. The forest on that side was odd, and the forest floor itself seemed alive at times, probably owing to the forest growing over the mass graves of the area. Conrad and Lioba would be in charge of conducting the ritual. They were capable, but Nagash had instructed Arkhan to accompany them to make sure that they succeeded in the mission. In the middle of the massive clearing opposite from the pillar was an enormous ziggurat. It was at the base of this that Diedrik Wilmar, The King of the Grimwald, set up with his Black Knight, his ancient cavalry guard. He was a Wight King, the animated skeleton of royalty, far more powerful than regular skeletons. In this hand was a banner of great necromantic power, bolstering the troops around him.

                A horn blew in the distance. “I guess they realized that we are here,” Arkhan said to no one in particular. “Hold Positions!” shouted Arkhan. He of course had everyone already in the correct positions, as it was likely that the Aelves would notice their presence eventually. “Henyet Ankwey,” he muttered. The phrase meant “Spear-Ears” in his ancient tongue. He had not battled them since before the Great Sundering. From atop Razarak, he could see all of the Aelvish formations. There were many, many archers in a long line. “Typical,” he sighed. “Always with the bows, eh Conrad?” “My lord?,” Conrad replied. Conrad would of course have no memory of the World that Was. “Bows are excellent against most armies Conrad, very efficient at lightly armored targets, which is most of what makes up any army. However, against our servants….well, I am afraid that they have no organs, or tendons, or anything else really, to pierce, so their effectiveness will be limited, though not futile of course. They can still damage, but with that many bowmen, I am afraid they are looking for results that they may not get.” Also, the Aelves had a small contingent of fighting infantry and a contingent of Aelvish Archer Cavalry. “What beautiful steeds; I must admit, in my homeland, they would have been priceless indeed,” Arkhan thought, thinking of his childhood horse, Sekmet. “A shame they are bearing useless riders, Archer Cavalry.” The Aelves have gathered on the opposite side of the ziggurat. “This will be over soon. They have underestimated me, and Nagash will have his foothold. A black pyramid will take the place of that Ziggurat soon,” Arkhan said, smiling. “BEGIN THE RITUAL!!!”

                Arkhan saw one of the two leaders of the Aelves attempt to cast some spell. He failed of course, since Nagash’s power was already emanating from this place. Even through the distance, Arkhan could see the surprise as the Aelvish Wizard strained to cast his spell, clearly not used to failure. All of the Aelves advanced in graceful unison. On Arkhan’s flank, the horse archers advanced ahead of the rest of the force. “Such arrogance,” said Arkhan. Aelvish commands filled the air. Predictably, a large volley of arrows filled the sky. Most hit his unit of skeletons in front of him, but a few reached him. One even pierced Razarak in the spine. Arkhan did not like that at all; many Aelves would pay for that arrow with their lives. The Aelvish arrows found many skeletons, breaking the necromantic bonds that animated them, effectively killing them. Only 30 remained out of about 100. Arkhan noticed the purple light around the remaining skeletons begin to fade, and he know that the rest of his skeletons would soon fail. Thankfully, the skeletons on Lioba’s flank faired a lot better, as the forest was a lot thicker on that side. “No matter, I will take care of them myself.  Complete the ritual, Conrad.”

                “Diedrik, you know what to do,” he said lowly. Of course Diedrik would respond to his command from any distance. Diedrik muttered a phrase in the native tongue from his life before death and slammed his banner into the ground. A wave of necromantic energy began to fill the clearing and bleed into the forested area as well, bolstering the necromantic binding of all of the undead, and surrounding Arkhan and his vampire allies in an opaque purple energy. Diedrik then commanded his Black Knights around the right side of the ziggurat. Arkhan could not see them as they cleared the side of the mighty structure, but he knew they would do their job. The right flank of archers would be very busy indeed for a while. Conrad attempted to bless his master with a mystic shield, but he was not successful. The winds of magic are fickle, even in an area saturated with death energy. For her part, Lioba successfully cast her spell upon Arkhan, and he felt a vigor enter him, increasing his and Razarak’s reflexes and agility tenfold. Then Lioba and her skeletons began to move out of the forest to fall back into the clearing to protect the pillar. As the skeletons were exiting the forest, the forest floor slowly began to turn into liquid. By the time the unit’s two standard bearers neared the edge, they were sucked into the earth. Those banners hold necromantic energy as well, allowing nearby skeletons that have fallen to reform. An unfortunate loss, since those skeletons that remained, albeit most of them, would be all they would have for this battle.

                “Enough,” said Arkhan. He calmed Razarak and began tracing a pattern in the air with his fingers. Uttering a Necromantic phrase, he unleashed his spell. He was in full control of the winds of magic, and they bent to his will, especially in this area of necromantic energy. “A shame really,” he muttered to himself. With that, the charging horses of the Archer Cavalry halted and began to act like death itself was approaching. The Aelvish riders dropped their bows as their joints went arthritic in an instant. The knees of most of those magnificent horses snapped as they lost all cartilage. The flesh of the riders wrinkled as though they were hundred year old men. The horses fell to the ground, throwing off their riders, kicking in agony as their flesh began to decay even while they were alive. In some area of Arkhan’s dark soul, he was thankful when they succumbed to the shock and died, their bodies turning to dust within seconds. Arkhan did not even notice or care about the pile of dust that was the Aelvish riders. Those Cavalry that were out range of the effect worked to calm their horses. Had they been paying attention, they would have noticed the bolt of arcane energy flying at them. Two more Aelves were dead at his hand--this would be a good day indeed. “Razarak, it’s time,” he said. With that, Razarak took to the skies. In mere moments, he was upon the Aelvish archer line on his flank, leaving the few remaining Cavalry for later. Zefet-Kar, the Tomb Blade, his ancient sword cut through Aelves like they were not there. Khenash-An, the Staff of Spirits, killed every Aelf that it touched, draining the Aelf of his remaining years in an instant. Razarak, of course, was making good on his revenge for the earlier arrow, tearing through ranks of Archers with his mighty claws. Even the spirits of the Dead, animated wherever Arkhan went, stabbed at the Aelves with ghostly blades. It was unsettling, to say the least, to have the spirits of their own ancestors fighting them. A few Aelf weapons found home, of course, but Arkhan was still in range of Diedrik’s Necromantic Banner, and any wound healed instantly, as though it did not happen. The Archers on his flank were utterly decimated, and they began to flee, just as Arkhan had predicted. It had taken less than a minute to accomplish this, thanks to Lioba’s spell. “Time to feast, Razarak.” With that, Razarak was upon the remaining Cavalry Archers who had finally calmed those magnificent horses. Razarak feasted on the remaining horses and their riders. Arkhan turned, smiling, to see the remaining Archers fleeing the battlefield, the two Aelvish commanders trying to stop them. The Archers were far more afraid of Arkhan than their leaders, however.  Arkhan spared a glance at the pillar, already glowing with purple energy.

                By this point, the Aelvish Infantry were on top of the ziggurat. “Enough feeding, Razarak,” Arkhan said making him turn towards the ziggurat, dropping a chunk of horse meat, or Aelf meat, it was impossible to tell at this point. Arkhan cast a Mystic Shield upon himself for the upcoming fight. He then traced a familiar gesture in the air. The Infantry in range of the spell suffered the same fate as the horses and their riders, rapidly aging and then decaying to corpse dust. “You would get fat, if you were not merely bones Razarak,” joked Arkhan, making him fly to the top of the ziggurat. It was the same song and dance, really. The Aelves stood no chance. Razarak feasted, Arkhan fought. “It has been too long,” he muttered to himself as he cut down another Aelf. He had not felt the need to fight hand to hand in a long while. Usually, if his minions were not enough, his spells certainly were. Zefet-Kar was enjoying the Aelf blood it seemed. Its runes glowing bright every time it was coated in more blood.

                From his new vantage point atop the ziggurat, he could see that the ritual was going well, and the pillar was beginning to shine bright with purple energy. It would not be long now. Conrad and Lioba had fallen back to the center of the clearing to protect the ritual site together, chanting in unison to speed the process. The remaining skeletons forming a protective line between the battered Aelves and the two Vampires. Diedrik, for his part, continued to chant and radiate his Banner energy. His Black Knights were doing their part, slowly whittling through the Archers on the right flank. Arkhan turned his attention to the only remaining threats, the two Aelvish heroes. The Aelvish wizard was attempting to cast the same spell from before. Mist began to form around the Knight Hero, but Arkhan was close enough to utterly overwhelm the casting. The mist faded, and so did the hopes of the two Aelves. With all hope of stopping the ritual gone, they began to bravely, and foolishly charge Arkhan.

                The Wizard Hero charged forward. Despite his Aelvish agility, the Knight Hero stumbled and fell down the ziggurat. Arkhan cracked a smile. “I will handle this one alone,” Arkhan said, hopping off of the back of Razarak. “Since you have no hope of using magic, Aelf, I will do the honorable thing and test my fighting skills in one on one combat, in the manner of the old ways.” The Wizard was surprisingly effective in close combat, matching Arkhan at every turn. Both were actually causing some damage to each other. Razarak remained vigilant, allowing his master his wish.

                Arkhan could feel the energy now emanating from the ritual site. Arkhan raised his hand and a pulse of invisible force pushed the Wizard away. “I am afraid that time is almost up, though I have enjoyed this. You have fought with honor, Aelf, and I will give you an ultimatum. Surrender and join us, and you may yet live out your days, along with the rest of your allies, including your Knightly friend trying to sneak up on me. You may either serve me in life, or you will serve me in death, it makes no difference to me.” “NEVER!” Cried the Aelf, charging back into Arkhan. “So be it,” said Arkhan, smiling wryly. A crossbow bolt hit Arkhan’s spine. “Agggh,” he cried, his first cry of pain in ten thousand years. He could sense the Knight behind him. Razarak was too fast though and quickly moved between the knight and his master, roaring loudly. Razarak began to devour the poor fool.

                So the dance continued for a few minutes, with Arkhan and the Wizard trading blows, and Razarak and the Knight mightily clashing. Then, from behind him Arkhan heard the death screams of the Knight, Razarak no doubt tearing him in two. The blood spatter near his feat confirmed his suspicions. “Only a few of your brave, yet foolish Archers remain below, and now you are alone. You should have yielded,” said Arkhan. He could feel that the ritual was almost complete, ahead of schedule. Conrad and Lioba had indeed performed well this day. “However, you will make a good soldier for me.” Then a wave of necromantic energy exploded from the pillar, spilling out for hundreds of miles in each direction.

                “It would appear, that our time together is done. I appreciate the fight, as it has been at least a thousand years since I have fought without my magic,” said Arkhan. The Wizard was on the ground now, trying to recover from the wave of energy. The energy bolstered a being such as Arkhan, but was anathema to the Aelf. His spasms stopped and he looked up at Arkhan. “Go to your leaders and give them a message. Sigmar and the False Gods have failed, Nagash has returned and all the souls of the realms belong to him once more,” said Arkhan sternly. Behind him, the pillar was crumbling, leaving behind a gigantic purple portal with hundreds of spirits from the area being sucked into it like a giant maw. Then a giant, dark armored, skeletal hand emerged from the portal, grabbing its edge as if supporting a giant figure about to emerge………..

              

 

 

I took an upgrade to a skeleton unit and a command trait for the Vampire Lord, Ruler of the Night

               

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...