The five warriors wandered aimlessly. Finding a Realmgate through the mist and shadows of Ulgu was no easy task. Although the Stormcast Eternals are magically imbued with a fraction of Sigmar’s power, the strength of these five lost souls was declining by the day.
Tibalt, one of the three Liberators that had joined Valirius, was anxious about being lost in the realm of Shadows, and he secretly hoped that this anxiety was well hidden from his brothers. Courage and strength in the face of adversity was a defining element of belonging to the Hammers of Sigmar, and he knew that any show of cowardice or weakness would be met with disdain. The further they traveled, however, the uneasier he felt, as the weight of his new-found vulnerability compounded with his memories of this place. As a child, before becoming a Stormcast Eternal, he was told many Stories of devils and monsters that hid in the mist, and in his mind, he felt as if the very mist around him was alive.
Feeling as close to defeat as they have ever before, the warriors prayed to Sigmar for aid. During their prayers, the wind blew and swirled around them, and for a fraction of a second, it formed what seemed to be an outline of a person, before turning into a cloud and blowing north. To the five warriors, this seemed to have been the God King answering their prayers.
As the Warriors followed the mist, they could see a Realmgate on the distant horizon. As they approached, they found it lifeless. Despite their many attempts to open the gate using their combined knowledge and experience, it remained closed to them. As they searched for a way to coerce the Realmgate into operation, the warriors heard a thunderous bellow behind them.
“WAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!”
The battlecry of an Orruk Warboss was unmistakable and the warriors felt a renewed sense of purpose burst into their flesh and fill their armour. A band of Greenskins, large and heavily armored, roared towards the Stormcast like a river bursting out of a broken dam. Behind them trailed a single Grot, with a crude bow in hand.
The battle was short and brutal, as the Stormcast were caught off guard, outnumbered, and their lost connection to Sigmar left them weaker by each moment. Hammers and choppas clashed, the grunts and war-cries of the warriors and Orruks rang off the Realmgate and echoed through the mist. The Judicator Elric was ripped in half by the claws of the mighty Orruk Warboss Grogstick, who “waaghed” in triumph at the Stormcast’s death, offering the Judicator Elric’s head as tribute to Gork and Mork. The Remaining four Stormcast retreated from the battle, as the disembowelment and decapitation of their brother reminded them they were no longer guaranteed a rebirth in Azyr.
As the four remaining Stormcast stopped to regroup far from their most recent battle and the closed Realmgate, the mist once again swirled around the warrior brothers. They watched as the mist seemed to come alive, weaving an unnatural path about them, caressing their gold armor and leaving dew in its wake. As they watched, it slowly took shape and formed into an Aelf. Tibalt recalled in his mind legends of a mistweaver from Ulgu, and was positive this was her. This was Lyanna of the Shadows…….
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