Into The Daemon's Nest
The Final Confrontation
Deployment
The Empire arranged their assault in two waves. The first, anselm's forces, pushed forward to form a line of peasant militia anchored by greatsword regiments. This battleline formed before the gates of the Daemon Forge, supported on the far right flank by peasant infantry and light cavalry, all bearing bow and crossbow to pick off flanking chaos forces. behind the line on the right, the grandmaster of the knights of morr led the surviving members of his order: 20 knights in full plate ready to deliver the deathblow to any forces the peasants could not overcome. Anselm himself, leading his honour guard of greatswords and flanked by the people of the empire made straight for Daemon forge as the war altar of sigmar rolled alongside to lend the power of righteous prayer to his words.
In the centre of the field, leopold deployed his army, ready to meet the foe head on in the open space between the forge and 'nest. supported by hellblaster, cannon and steam tank, leopold's army consisted of rank upon rank of stout empire infantry, and two cavalry regiments. one, an elite Cadre of inner circle knights led by Leopold himself accompanied by the sapphire lady, a wizard lord of the celestial temple. The other, two mighty ranks of demigryph knights led by their grandmaster atop a giant gryph.
On the far flank, and charged with taking the 'nest, came the dwrves. with all their war machines arrayed in the backfield, three giant columns marched behind rune encrusted siege engines, and each led by a dwarven lord. The longbeards pushing a ram made directly fro the 'nest's gate, whilst the other regiments - dwarf warriors and ironbreakers - pushed towers towards the daemon-occupied walls. seeing the threat of the war mammoth and supporting khornate regiments sweeping around the far edge of the field, the dwarves also deployed ranks of handgunners and numerous gyrocopters to disrupt the chaos counter-strike and pepper them with shot.
The Empire arranged their assault in two waves. The first, anselm's forces, pushed forward to form a line of peasant militia anchored by greatsword regiments. This battleline formed before the gates of the Daemon Forge, supported on the far right flank by peasant infantry and light cavalry, all bearing bow and crossbow to pick off flanking chaos forces. behind the line on the right, the grandmaster of the knights of morr led the surviving members of his order: 20 knights in full plate ready to deliver the deathblow to any forces the peasants could not overcome. Anselm himself, leading his honour guard of greatswords and flanked by the people of the empire made straight for Daemon forge as the war altar of sigmar rolled alongside to lend the power of righteous prayer to his words.
In the centre of the field, leopold deployed his army, ready to meet the foe head on in the open space between the forge and 'nest. supported by hellblaster, cannon and steam tank, leopold's army consisted of rank upon rank of stout empire infantry, and two cavalry regiments. one, an elite Cadre of inner circle knights led by Leopold himself accompanied by the sapphire lady, a wizard lord of the celestial temple. The other, two mighty ranks of demigryph knights led by their grandmaster atop a giant gryph.
On the far flank, and charged with taking the 'nest, came the dwrves. with all their war machines arrayed in the backfield, three giant columns marched behind rune encrusted siege engines, and each led by a dwarven lord. The longbeards pushing a ram made directly fro the 'nest's gate, whilst the other regiments - dwarf warriors and ironbreakers - pushed towers towards the daemon-occupied walls. seeing the threat of the war mammoth and supporting khornate regiments sweeping around the far edge of the field, the dwarves also deployed ranks of handgunners and numerous gyrocopters to disrupt the chaos counter-strike and pepper them with shot.
Across the field, the forces of chaos prepared for the final fight. Behind the Daemon's Nest, the warriors and knights of khorne prepared to march around the 'Nest and into the beseiging forces. they feared little from the massed dwarven artillery as they marched in the shadow of a titanic war mammoth. daemon princes of khorne and slaanesh strode amongst their ranks, with gibbering spawn scuttling about their feet. in the daemon's nest itself, bloodletters and daemonettes manned the battlements awaiting the onrushing forces.
in the centre of the field, supported by two hellcannon behind their massed ranks, the paragon led his battleline personally, once again atop the engine of khorne. with supporting regiments of khornate warriors and marauders behind, and swift moving regiments of slaanesh warriors, marauders and chosen forming the vanguard, the paragon anchored a wall of steel, brass and flesh.
supporting the chosen warriors of khorne in the Daemon forge, two jugger chariots moved the flank the walls and outside them, infernal ironsworn led my their sorcerer prophet and the mighty forge dragon. to complete the line, the left flank consisted of swift moving slaaneshi knights supprted by marauder horse units and warhaounds and a block of khornate warriors.
in the centre of the field, supported by two hellcannon behind their massed ranks, the paragon led his battleline personally, once again atop the engine of khorne. with supporting regiments of khornate warriors and marauders behind, and swift moving regiments of slaanesh warriors, marauders and chosen forming the vanguard, the paragon anchored a wall of steel, brass and flesh.
supporting the chosen warriors of khorne in the Daemon forge, two jugger chariots moved the flank the walls and outside them, infernal ironsworn led my their sorcerer prophet and the mighty forge dragon. to complete the line, the left flank consisted of swift moving slaaneshi knights supprted by marauder horse units and warhaounds and a block of khornate warriors.
opening moves
steffan assaults the daemon forge
As the Chaos battle-line moved into position, Leopold’s carefully planned assault began. Having marched relentlessly to the ‘Nest along seldom used paths, the men of the Empire had stolen a march on their hated foe. They surged across the field, seizing the initiative and immediately destroying the soul-vents that burst from the tormented earth at the points of the octet star about the Daemon Forge. Steffan’s information had proved invaluable, and the specially prepared charges lay waste to the network of chambers beneath the forge, severing its link to the Daemon-realm in an instant.
As the Chaos battle-line moved into position, Leopold’s carefully planned assault began. Having marched relentlessly to the ‘Nest along seldom used paths, the men of the Empire had stolen a march on their hated foe. They surged across the field, seizing the initiative and immediately destroying the soul-vents that burst from the tormented earth at the points of the octet star about the Daemon Forge. Steffan’s information had proved invaluable, and the specially prepared charges lay waste to the network of chambers beneath the forge, severing its link to the Daemon-realm in an instant.
Anselm’s horde of fanatics, peasants and flagellants advanced swiftly to the doors of the Forge itself, their steady wall of swords advancing in unison and belying their lack of disciplined military training. relying on the steely experience of the Greatsword regiments deployed at regular intervals along their battleline the men of the empire came. Anselm himself led one of these veteran regiments, guiding his forces with thunderous words of blood and vengeance.
All about him, the peasant archers from fen and field darted between the rows of fervent militia like children in a cornfield, each band of woodsmen loosing flights of arrows at the silhouettes of hulking armoured figures manning the Forge’s verdegris-tinged battlements. Among them, a lone figure in greatcoat and dark hat slipped unnoticed through the rushing bodies and loosed a pistol shot at the horned and towering warrior guarding the soul pit itself. Yet for all their guile, the Chosen of the Daemonsmiths were empowered by the energy of the forge, which lent warp-hardened steel into their very flesh to protect them from the barrage.
Like a wave striking a pillar of sea-bound rock, Anselm’s zealots smashed into the Forge, warbands of peasants sweeping around both flanks whilst the flagellants with Anselm himself at their back pressed into the Chaos-tortured barbican. The first wave of Flagellants cast down the brazen door of the ‘Forge, only to be met by the fiercest fighters in the Paragon’s horde. The Chosen of the Blood God tore into the screaming zealots even as they penetrated the lower level of the tower, smashing aside bodies and spattering them across the soul-hungry stones. Yet the flagellants were beyond fear and had numbers on their side. For every five zealots cast down, the swarm of Sigmar’s own took a Chosen warrior with them – either borne down under rains of frenzied blows, or hamstrung and slain by dozens of bloody fisted daggers punched into armour-joins and eye-slits. With the price in blood and death high, the first assault was repelled, yet left the ‘Forge only sparsely defended by a mere handful of the most bestial chosen of the Blood God.
All about him, the peasant archers from fen and field darted between the rows of fervent militia like children in a cornfield, each band of woodsmen loosing flights of arrows at the silhouettes of hulking armoured figures manning the Forge’s verdegris-tinged battlements. Among them, a lone figure in greatcoat and dark hat slipped unnoticed through the rushing bodies and loosed a pistol shot at the horned and towering warrior guarding the soul pit itself. Yet for all their guile, the Chosen of the Daemonsmiths were empowered by the energy of the forge, which lent warp-hardened steel into their very flesh to protect them from the barrage.
Like a wave striking a pillar of sea-bound rock, Anselm’s zealots smashed into the Forge, warbands of peasants sweeping around both flanks whilst the flagellants with Anselm himself at their back pressed into the Chaos-tortured barbican. The first wave of Flagellants cast down the brazen door of the ‘Forge, only to be met by the fiercest fighters in the Paragon’s horde. The Chosen of the Blood God tore into the screaming zealots even as they penetrated the lower level of the tower, smashing aside bodies and spattering them across the soul-hungry stones. Yet the flagellants were beyond fear and had numbers on their side. For every five zealots cast down, the swarm of Sigmar’s own took a Chosen warrior with them – either borne down under rains of frenzied blows, or hamstrung and slain by dozens of bloody fisted daggers punched into armour-joins and eye-slits. With the price in blood and death high, the first assault was repelled, yet left the ‘Forge only sparsely defended by a mere handful of the most bestial chosen of the Blood God.
Outside, the flanking waves were met head on by the Chaos battle line, now fully formed and eager for the fight. In the shadow of the Daemon Forge, a mighty Dragon of polished brass and eldritch flame smashed into the first wave of peasants, blood-mad warriors of Khorne mere moments behind as they too joined the fight. Bejewelled Knights of the Dark Prince swept around this slaughter exposing themselves to raking crossbow and bow fire from the scouting parties skirting the Empire assault. A mighty knight was cast down by the massed shooting, yet this did not halt their advance for a moment. The pastel-daubed cavalry on their bestial, lizard-like steeds came on with unearthly speed, and passed around the flanks of the outermost Greatswords, even as the warriors of Khorne charged headlong into them as the peasants fell beneath their horrific combined assault. Meeting the outermost of the peasant hordes, the Slaaneshi Knights set about a harvest of their own, reaping a terrible cost in brave citizen’s lives. Yet again the numbers Anselm had brought to bear proved fruitful, as more knights were cast down in the rushing melee.
On the other side of the Daemon Forge, the onrushing waves of Empire soldierly was met by a foe whose capacity for hate far outstripped their own. The Chaos Dwarves had come. Led by a skull-masked Sorcerer-Prophet, a tightly packed block of dark armour, rune-twisted weapons and horned helms marked the presence of Ironsworn warriors. With a cold precision the sons of Hashut marched relentlessly into battle, and tore into the foremost group of Anselm’s men, dispatching them without losing a single warrior. Without pause these merciless killers advanced, and immediately ran head first into another of Anselm’s Greatsword regiments.
the dwarves assault the daemon's nest
On the far flank the Ironbreakers slammed their rune-cloaked tower into the battlements. Shattering soul-warped stone, the gangplank slammed down and raising the ancient standard of his people, the Battle Standard Bearer signalled the start of the assault. Yet the Dwarves’ fury had been their undoing. Before a single Dwarf could cross into the ‘Nest, and titanic shadow fell across their ranks. Raising their eyes from beneath their intricate and finely-wrought helms, the Ironbreakers gazed in horror as a creature that towered even over the battlements they fought to seize bore down on them with all the raw power of a winter avalanche. The War Mammoth had found its foe!
Further along the wall, the two Remaining dwarf assaults also fell under attack. a damon prince of khorne swept over the battlement walls, drawing power from the tortured stones and their bloodletter guards. With a beat of leathery wings that snapped roof tiles from the tallest tower, the scarlet titan dove headlong into the sturdy dwarven warriors forcing them to turn and face the incoming assault and delaying their attack on the walls.
at the gate, the longbeards also were forced to defend themselves. sweeping about the lambent glowing walls of the nest, a thunderous pride of skullcrushers marshalled themselves for a charge. only the cavorting forms of the slaansehi ogres stopped the massive constructs for unleashing their power immediately - a rare blunder on the part of the paragon, who observed from nearby - and the longbeards had time to prepare their shieldwall. The dwarven lord sounded the warhorn and the veteran warriors locked shields, even as supporting gyrocopters swept over the dwarven ines and bombed the oncoming daemon cavalry.
On the far flank the Ironbreakers slammed their rune-cloaked tower into the battlements. Shattering soul-warped stone, the gangplank slammed down and raising the ancient standard of his people, the Battle Standard Bearer signalled the start of the assault. Yet the Dwarves’ fury had been their undoing. Before a single Dwarf could cross into the ‘Nest, and titanic shadow fell across their ranks. Raising their eyes from beneath their intricate and finely-wrought helms, the Ironbreakers gazed in horror as a creature that towered even over the battlements they fought to seize bore down on them with all the raw power of a winter avalanche. The War Mammoth had found its foe!
Further along the wall, the two Remaining dwarf assaults also fell under attack. a damon prince of khorne swept over the battlement walls, drawing power from the tortured stones and their bloodletter guards. With a beat of leathery wings that snapped roof tiles from the tallest tower, the scarlet titan dove headlong into the sturdy dwarven warriors forcing them to turn and face the incoming assault and delaying their attack on the walls.
at the gate, the longbeards also were forced to defend themselves. sweeping about the lambent glowing walls of the nest, a thunderous pride of skullcrushers marshalled themselves for a charge. only the cavorting forms of the slaansehi ogres stopped the massive constructs for unleashing their power immediately - a rare blunder on the part of the paragon, who observed from nearby - and the longbeards had time to prepare their shieldwall. The dwarven lord sounded the warhorn and the veteran warriors locked shields, even as supporting gyrocopters swept over the dwarven ines and bombed the oncoming daemon cavalry.
Goaded By The Chains And Steel Hooks Of Its Masters, The Mammoth Unleashed A Deafening Bellow Of Rage And Slammed Into The Ironbreakers, Even As The Stoic Dwarves Attempted To Rally About Their Standards. The Carnage Was Awful To Behold. A Full Two Thirds Of The Ironbreakers Were Crushed Instantly, Flattened Beneath Tower-Sized Feet Or Swept Away By The Beast’s Gatepost-Length Tusks.
Unbelievably, The Ironbreakers Held: A Testament To Their Formidable Will To Never Back Down From Combat. Raising Their Lord Atop A Tortoise Of Rune-Carved Shields, The Gromril-Clad Warriors Bore Their Lord Into Range. Whispering Oaths Of Vengeance, The Mighty Dwarf Called Upon All The Power That His Ancient Blade Could Muster. Even As The Power Of The Runes Flared, He Cast The Great-Axe At The Beast That Had Laid His Warriors Low. End Over End The Blade Spun, Tracing An Arc Of White Fire From The Very Air, Before Striking The Beast Square Across The Front Of Its Battle-Scarred And Armour-Plated Skull. Aglow The Axe Embedded In The Creature’s Heavy Plated Fore-Armour, Its Threat Seemingly Spent, Before A Thunderous Crack Rent The Air. The Beast’s Masters, Riding High In The Howdah Flung Themselves To The Wooden Decks At The Sound, Blood Pouring From Beneath Their Helms And Tattooed Flesh. A Bolt Of Pure White Lightning Struck The Pommel Of The Rune-Axe And Coursed Into The Beast. And As The Runes Glowed White-Hot, The Arcane Brass Armour Plating Shattered. The Mammoth’s Skull – A Foot-Thick Casing Of Warp-Hardened Bone Said To Be Capable To Felling A Watchtower With A Single Butt – Caved In As The Exploding Plate Tore It To Pieces And The Enormous Body, Now Spent Of Guiding Purpose Whirled To Destruction.
Staggering From His Perch, As If Shocked By The Success Of His Own Attack, The Dwarf Lord Took Moments To Recover His Mien. He Turned To His Surviving Warriors. Yet Before He Could Rouse Them Back Into Action They Were Set Upon. Brass Clad Warriors In Blood-Red Helms, And Bearing Mighty Axes And Great Bladed Swords Hurled Themselves Into The Shattered Ironbreakers, And It Seemed Their Doom Had Come.
battle between the castles
in the stretch of hard-baked plain that lay between the nest and the forge, leopold and the paragon directed their battleline. both knew that victory would fall to whomever could break the heart of the enemy line and support one or both sieges. to this end both generals had set their fiercest fighters and engines of war.
leopold's vanguard was led by his finest knights atop feather and armour-clad beasts: demigryphs whose claws and beaks were the match of any dark-forged armour. streaming behind this mighty regiment, leopold deployed his best-trained state troops. these swordsmen, spearmen and greatswords had marched with leopold from battle to battle, protecting their lord and anchoring a string of hard-fought victories over the foe. beside them: the Iron Fury - its blue enamelled flanks rent with blade and claw from numberless encounters with foe - rumbled into position alongside the ranks of purple and white liveried troops and let loose a warning volley with its powerful cannon.
Unbelievably, The Ironbreakers Held: A Testament To Their Formidable Will To Never Back Down From Combat. Raising Their Lord Atop A Tortoise Of Rune-Carved Shields, The Gromril-Clad Warriors Bore Their Lord Into Range. Whispering Oaths Of Vengeance, The Mighty Dwarf Called Upon All The Power That His Ancient Blade Could Muster. Even As The Power Of The Runes Flared, He Cast The Great-Axe At The Beast That Had Laid His Warriors Low. End Over End The Blade Spun, Tracing An Arc Of White Fire From The Very Air, Before Striking The Beast Square Across The Front Of Its Battle-Scarred And Armour-Plated Skull. Aglow The Axe Embedded In The Creature’s Heavy Plated Fore-Armour, Its Threat Seemingly Spent, Before A Thunderous Crack Rent The Air. The Beast’s Masters, Riding High In The Howdah Flung Themselves To The Wooden Decks At The Sound, Blood Pouring From Beneath Their Helms And Tattooed Flesh. A Bolt Of Pure White Lightning Struck The Pommel Of The Rune-Axe And Coursed Into The Beast. And As The Runes Glowed White-Hot, The Arcane Brass Armour Plating Shattered. The Mammoth’s Skull – A Foot-Thick Casing Of Warp-Hardened Bone Said To Be Capable To Felling A Watchtower With A Single Butt – Caved In As The Exploding Plate Tore It To Pieces And The Enormous Body, Now Spent Of Guiding Purpose Whirled To Destruction.
Staggering From His Perch, As If Shocked By The Success Of His Own Attack, The Dwarf Lord Took Moments To Recover His Mien. He Turned To His Surviving Warriors. Yet Before He Could Rouse Them Back Into Action They Were Set Upon. Brass Clad Warriors In Blood-Red Helms, And Bearing Mighty Axes And Great Bladed Swords Hurled Themselves Into The Shattered Ironbreakers, And It Seemed Their Doom Had Come.
battle between the castles
in the stretch of hard-baked plain that lay between the nest and the forge, leopold and the paragon directed their battleline. both knew that victory would fall to whomever could break the heart of the enemy line and support one or both sieges. to this end both generals had set their fiercest fighters and engines of war.
leopold's vanguard was led by his finest knights atop feather and armour-clad beasts: demigryphs whose claws and beaks were the match of any dark-forged armour. streaming behind this mighty regiment, leopold deployed his best-trained state troops. these swordsmen, spearmen and greatswords had marched with leopold from battle to battle, protecting their lord and anchoring a string of hard-fought victories over the foe. beside them: the Iron Fury - its blue enamelled flanks rent with blade and claw from numberless encounters with foe - rumbled into position alongside the ranks of purple and white liveried troops and let loose a warning volley with its powerful cannon.
As shot and shell raged overhead, the lines advanced. the empire forces, wary of the need to cover the assaults on either end of their line, marched cautiously behind the advancing demigryphs, forming a shallow 'u' shape and inviting the chaos line onto them. from behind, the cannons and mortar launched salvos of fire directly at the paragon, high atop the engine of khorne. One struck the mighty beast, tearing a hole in its armoured flank but the chaos lord otherwise resisted.
in response, the disciplined ranks of marauders, warriors and chosen marched as one as they advanced their line in strength towards the foe. returning fire, the hellcannon hurled screaming shots of souls into their enemy. One struck the Iron fury square across its bow, but the sturdy engine resisted and powered on.
in response, the disciplined ranks of marauders, warriors and chosen marched as one as they advanced their line in strength towards the foe. returning fire, the hellcannon hurled screaming shots of souls into their enemy. One struck the Iron fury square across its bow, but the sturdy engine resisted and powered on.
fresh from carving their way through the Longbeards attacking the gate, the Skullcrushers piled forward in triumph and rounded the forward battlements of the Nest in search of their next target. From atop his scarlet-flanked steed, the ‘Crusher Lord raised a clenched fist, and the onward charge was brought to a head. Before him the Iron Fury clattered and steamed. The venerable tank had brought low many of the Daemonsmith’s creations, even striking a Forge Dragon from the face of the tortured earth. With a roar the Iron Fury swung about and drove with full mechanical fury at the Crushers. A feral grin spread across the Crusher Lord’s scarred and Chaos-warped face and the challenge was met.
With a ghastly crash of metal the Iron Fury struck. One Skullcrusher took the force of the impact full on, flinging the Daemon steed into the base of the battlements and spattering its rider across the aching stones. Roaring in the glory of destruction, the remaining ‘Crushers leapt upon the faithful Empire tank. Lightning edged blade tore at warded steel plates, tearing some asunder and screeching shards of white hot metal into the inner workings. The engineers, scalded and torn by the fury of the assault, screamed in agony as steam and blade tore their flesh, yet somehow they kept the mighty engine operating. With grind of gears the tank rolled atop another Jugger and crashed down upon a third, pinning it flailing and roaring even as it died. Yet the Crushers were unbowed.
Even as his steed tore the final protection from the stricken tank, the Crusher Lord sprang from the saddle and plunged his blade, a titanic spear of sorcerous iron, though the tank’s commander and pinned him to the groaning engine. With screech of mechanical death the boiler gave and steam and flame burst the noble tank asunder.
The fight for the forge rages
As Anselm continued his march towards the daemon forge, his flanking units were pressed hard by the chaos counter assault. undeterred, the people's prophet roared words of vengeance and the flagellants redoubled their assault. this time they would not be denied. as if sensing their fate, the chosen of the blood god met their deaths in the manner in which they lived their brutal lives. in armour drenched red with the blood of the fallen from the first assault, the handful of remaining bezerks screamed their blood-curdling battlecry and sallied from the torn brass doors. The fight was as bloody as it was brief, as each warrior was borne down beneath the flailing weapons of the Flagellants, and finally destroyed. in their frenzy the remaining zealots charged into the arcane tower, Ready To Destroy It Once And For All.
Bearing the blessed sanctifier, the arch-zealot leading the surviving flagellants followed his brethren seeking out the soul pit. his steps were guided by the sound of ringing steel and screams of agony. finding his way to the parapet, the arch zealot prepared to use his charge and end the tower and his own life in the service of sigmar. Yet one fell warrior remained to defend the unholy furnace: towering darkly, clad in burnished plate and bearing twin hammers that writhed with unholy power of their own, the final defender - an eight-foot tall champion of the blood god - beckoned th old man to his doom. Raising the sanctifier, the arch zealot flung his gaze skyward and offered a final prayer to sigmar. The blood god's avatar laughed at the old man's devotion and made to end the zealot's existence. yet even as he lunged forwards sigmar answered his devotee's prayer! a fiery explosion rippled across the parapet, sweeping the blood god's champion from the parapet and smashing his mighty frame across the stones below - the empire cannonry had done their job at last! Stumbling, half blinded, burned yet unbowed, the old man struggled to his feet and began to stagger towards the soul pit. Yet even as victory beckoned, the old man, the soul pit and the tower itself fell beneath and hulking shadow. The forge dragon swpet over the tower and, roaring, smashed into anselm and his honour guard advancing on the plains below.
With a ghastly crash of metal the Iron Fury struck. One Skullcrusher took the force of the impact full on, flinging the Daemon steed into the base of the battlements and spattering its rider across the aching stones. Roaring in the glory of destruction, the remaining ‘Crushers leapt upon the faithful Empire tank. Lightning edged blade tore at warded steel plates, tearing some asunder and screeching shards of white hot metal into the inner workings. The engineers, scalded and torn by the fury of the assault, screamed in agony as steam and blade tore their flesh, yet somehow they kept the mighty engine operating. With grind of gears the tank rolled atop another Jugger and crashed down upon a third, pinning it flailing and roaring even as it died. Yet the Crushers were unbowed.
Even as his steed tore the final protection from the stricken tank, the Crusher Lord sprang from the saddle and plunged his blade, a titanic spear of sorcerous iron, though the tank’s commander and pinned him to the groaning engine. With screech of mechanical death the boiler gave and steam and flame burst the noble tank asunder.
The fight for the forge rages
As Anselm continued his march towards the daemon forge, his flanking units were pressed hard by the chaos counter assault. undeterred, the people's prophet roared words of vengeance and the flagellants redoubled their assault. this time they would not be denied. as if sensing their fate, the chosen of the blood god met their deaths in the manner in which they lived their brutal lives. in armour drenched red with the blood of the fallen from the first assault, the handful of remaining bezerks screamed their blood-curdling battlecry and sallied from the torn brass doors. The fight was as bloody as it was brief, as each warrior was borne down beneath the flailing weapons of the Flagellants, and finally destroyed. in their frenzy the remaining zealots charged into the arcane tower, Ready To Destroy It Once And For All.
Bearing the blessed sanctifier, the arch-zealot leading the surviving flagellants followed his brethren seeking out the soul pit. his steps were guided by the sound of ringing steel and screams of agony. finding his way to the parapet, the arch zealot prepared to use his charge and end the tower and his own life in the service of sigmar. Yet one fell warrior remained to defend the unholy furnace: towering darkly, clad in burnished plate and bearing twin hammers that writhed with unholy power of their own, the final defender - an eight-foot tall champion of the blood god - beckoned th old man to his doom. Raising the sanctifier, the arch zealot flung his gaze skyward and offered a final prayer to sigmar. The blood god's avatar laughed at the old man's devotion and made to end the zealot's existence. yet even as he lunged forwards sigmar answered his devotee's prayer! a fiery explosion rippled across the parapet, sweeping the blood god's champion from the parapet and smashing his mighty frame across the stones below - the empire cannonry had done their job at last! Stumbling, half blinded, burned yet unbowed, the old man struggled to his feet and began to stagger towards the soul pit. Yet even as victory beckoned, the old man, the soul pit and the tower itself fell beneath and hulking shadow. The forge dragon swpet over the tower and, roaring, smashed into anselm and his honour guard advancing on the plains below.
The moment's distraction was all the forces of chaos needed: leading her warband of preverted devotees, one of the dark prince's concubine-sorceresses doused the dark tower in a pastel-hued cloud of daemon-scented musk. Immediately, the flagellants within were overcome with images of sigmar their saviour calling them to glory. Some fell on their own weapons in devotion, others fell to their knees in rapt adoration. on the parapet, the zealot was dazzled by a golden light and dropped the sactifier as he shielded his eyes from the sudden blaze. lowering his hands he saw the mighty form of sigmar enthroned in gold and sunlight, beckoning him with a powerful limb. weeping, the zealot strode into the embrace of his lord. From his position below the parapet, anselm watched in disbelief and the zealot stepped off the parapet to smash into the jagged rocks at its base.
With the flagellants beguiled, the concubine-sorceress led her warband into the tower and put the reamining flagellants to the sword. the forge was in chaos hands once more!
With the flagellants beguiled, the concubine-sorceress led her warband into the tower and put the reamining flagellants to the sword. the forge was in chaos hands once more!
seeing the threat to their lord, anslem's honour guard closed ranks around their charge. The brass titan smashed into their ranks and the guard sold their lives dearly. targeting anselm's bald pate the dragon once again unleashed the steel needle, which snapped forth from its daemon-forged jaws and straight for the people's prophet. anselm turned to ward off the blow, knowing his own strength would not be enough to save him. but before the blow could fall the people's prophet was flung aside by his champion. the brave captain, like the zealot before him, took the power of khorne's needle square in his chest and was slain instantly. in fury, the brass titan thrashed about to claim its prize. but it would not get a second chance.
a cold clear wrahorn and roar of vengeful fury sprung from behind the mighty dragon. Sending the accompanying pistoliers forward to protect their flank, the knights of morr lowered lances and charged the brass behemoth. not daemon blood, hell-forged brass or reconstructed flesh could withstand the righteous lances of the sons of the dreaming god. where their blades struck, light poured into rents in the titan's body and cast it to the ground. rallying, anselm's honour guard leapt on the opportunity, ansd strcuk at the fallen monster with thie halberds until it moved no more. the forge dragon had been defeated.
a cold clear wrahorn and roar of vengeful fury sprung from behind the mighty dragon. Sending the accompanying pistoliers forward to protect their flank, the knights of morr lowered lances and charged the brass behemoth. not daemon blood, hell-forged brass or reconstructed flesh could withstand the righteous lances of the sons of the dreaming god. where their blades struck, light poured into rents in the titan's body and cast it to the ground. rallying, anselm's honour guard leapt on the opportunity, ansd strcuk at the fallen monster with thie halberds until it moved no more. the forge dragon had been defeated.
Sensing the moment, anselm ordered his own warhorns to sound. and as he reformed his battle line the second wave of his forces strode onto the field. four more hordes of flagellants and militia marched in support of the assault - moving to plug the gaps opening across the empire battleline from where the chaos countercharge had struck. turning once again to the task at hand, and with scores of fresh troops at his back, anselm ordered his honour guard forward to take the Daemon forge.
midgame - the empire surges
The fates turn
From on high atop his brass and daemon-flesh steed, the Paragon watched the unfolding carnage. As always with the ebb and flow of furious combat - souls stretched thin by the extremes of rage, triumph, pain and fear – he could almost see the emotions flowing like a tangible cloud over the battlefield. And as always the turn of fates mirrored the dark dreams his patrons bestowed upon him in his moments of half-wakefulness. Then as now he saw the tide of battle turn in favour of the sons of the false god: he saw the vain and preening Griffon-Knights hurtle across the field, desperate for glory in the eyes of their chosen champion. Parting the lambent mist they slammed into the Chosen of the Dark Prince, the razor talons and beaks of their mounts slicing into the twisted rune-etched armour skewered on the lances of the riders. And atop the greatest of all the steeds, a tall warrior in black-enamelled plate struck down the Chosen Champion, even as he called upon his lord for glory.
As in his dream, the line of Chosen bent then shattered, scattering before the onslaught like chaff in the wind, as the furious Griffons swept over them and into the next battle line. The Dark Prince’s tribeswomen, lewd and luridly bedecked as if the fact of battle had escaped their notice, sliced their devotion into their own flesh and gleefully met the charge head on. The Paragon smiled at such blind adoration: the tribeswomen surely knowing they were going to meet their God. With a thought he sent them aid, and released the mindless tower of heaving mutant flesh that stood tethered by his will alongside him. The tentacular mass immediately heaved into motion, covering the ground to the foe in a heartbeat and lend its titanic fury to the savage melee.
Brutally, the tribes of flesh flung themselves onto the blades of the griffon-knights and rejoiced in the boon of pain even as their supple bodies were rent apart by the powerful claws of the knight’s bestial steeds. Yet their sacrifice was not for nought, as the griffon’s champion- separated from the closed ranks of his knights, was ripped from the saddle by the towering giant and torn apart in a gout of red viscera to be flung back to spatter across polished plate and naked flesh alike. The madness of the experience overcame the tribes and they fled from the overwhelming carnage, leaving the titanic creature to fight on alone. Visors slammed down, and the griffon knights prepared to avenge their champion.
As the tribeswomen fled, they ran past the third line of battle the Paragon had set forth: rank upon brazen rank of brass-clad bezerks pressed forward through the tide of fleeing flesh like a longboat carving through the Norscan seas. Beneath twin banners, one bearing the skull-icon of their Lord and the other the Paragon’s own personal banner twisting cruelly under the severed head of the dragon Chorax the Vile- a creature he had bested and dismembered with his own hands – the warriors of Khorne surged into the griffon-knights even as they slew the giant that thrashed amongst their ranks and cast its towering form to the earth.
Beneath him, the Paragon felt the mighty Engine of Khorne rage against its shackled will as the warriors of its Lord bled fury into its veins. Yet even as he gave the savage creature its head, he felt the skein of fate twist and realign again. Enraged, he looked afield in time to see the entire line of Dwarven artillery unload their rune-etched weapons directly at him. This time, there was to be no escape. The Engine was struck low by a stone carved with runes of nemesis and fury, and when its head was crushed to the earth, a cannon shot glowing with the heat of a subterranean forge obliterated it in a shower of screeching steel and charred flesh. The impact flung the Paragon from his mount, and he hit the earth hard enough to crack it where his brass-shod feet braced his towering form. Casting aside his cloak, the Paragon replaced his helm and took the Godspear from where it had landed tip-first into the suffering earth. As he felt the rage inside the creature die, his own easily filled the void. And as red witchfire struck down into the ‘Spear’s tip, the Paragon surged forward, impossibly swift and potent, and struck alongside his Khornate brothers.
The combat was a fury of steel, brass and claw as the waves of unchecked hate bled into the souls of those near to the destroyed Engine. The Paragon carved through plate and hide in a savage dance of red-flamed power. Alongside, the sons of Khorne ripped furiously into the Demigryphs, who in turn tore at the brass-clad northmen with claw and blade. Both sides suffered horrendous casualties, yet the bold knights refused to give ground.
Sensing the moment, Leopold directed his mages to lend their support: with an arcane gesture The Sapphire Lady sheathed the bodies and warplate of the noble knights in a skin of magical ice that, whilst unable to block the Chaos-fire of the Godspear as it hewed down more of their number, turned the blood-slicked blades of the Khornate Warriors who could not match their former fury. The final blow came when the Champion’s mighty demigryph, enraged by the loss of its master cast down the Paragon’s standard in a fury of bestial power. Shattered, the handful of northmen fled, and the Paragon was flung aside by the onrushing and vengeful Demigryphs, as behind them a roar of triumph erupted from the Empire battleline.
Tearing at the cursed earth in his rage, the Paragon clawed to his feet and thrust the Godspear skywards. As if in answer, souls pouring from the Daemonforge were drawn down from the roiling sky as the Paragon replenished himself, and before the host of men could seize the moment and rid the field of the Chaos Lord, fire sparked from the ‘Spear and the hunt was resumed.
From on high atop his brass and daemon-flesh steed, the Paragon watched the unfolding carnage. As always with the ebb and flow of furious combat - souls stretched thin by the extremes of rage, triumph, pain and fear – he could almost see the emotions flowing like a tangible cloud over the battlefield. And as always the turn of fates mirrored the dark dreams his patrons bestowed upon him in his moments of half-wakefulness. Then as now he saw the tide of battle turn in favour of the sons of the false god: he saw the vain and preening Griffon-Knights hurtle across the field, desperate for glory in the eyes of their chosen champion. Parting the lambent mist they slammed into the Chosen of the Dark Prince, the razor talons and beaks of their mounts slicing into the twisted rune-etched armour skewered on the lances of the riders. And atop the greatest of all the steeds, a tall warrior in black-enamelled plate struck down the Chosen Champion, even as he called upon his lord for glory.
As in his dream, the line of Chosen bent then shattered, scattering before the onslaught like chaff in the wind, as the furious Griffons swept over them and into the next battle line. The Dark Prince’s tribeswomen, lewd and luridly bedecked as if the fact of battle had escaped their notice, sliced their devotion into their own flesh and gleefully met the charge head on. The Paragon smiled at such blind adoration: the tribeswomen surely knowing they were going to meet their God. With a thought he sent them aid, and released the mindless tower of heaving mutant flesh that stood tethered by his will alongside him. The tentacular mass immediately heaved into motion, covering the ground to the foe in a heartbeat and lend its titanic fury to the savage melee.
Brutally, the tribes of flesh flung themselves onto the blades of the griffon-knights and rejoiced in the boon of pain even as their supple bodies were rent apart by the powerful claws of the knight’s bestial steeds. Yet their sacrifice was not for nought, as the griffon’s champion- separated from the closed ranks of his knights, was ripped from the saddle by the towering giant and torn apart in a gout of red viscera to be flung back to spatter across polished plate and naked flesh alike. The madness of the experience overcame the tribes and they fled from the overwhelming carnage, leaving the titanic creature to fight on alone. Visors slammed down, and the griffon knights prepared to avenge their champion.
As the tribeswomen fled, they ran past the third line of battle the Paragon had set forth: rank upon brazen rank of brass-clad bezerks pressed forward through the tide of fleeing flesh like a longboat carving through the Norscan seas. Beneath twin banners, one bearing the skull-icon of their Lord and the other the Paragon’s own personal banner twisting cruelly under the severed head of the dragon Chorax the Vile- a creature he had bested and dismembered with his own hands – the warriors of Khorne surged into the griffon-knights even as they slew the giant that thrashed amongst their ranks and cast its towering form to the earth.
Beneath him, the Paragon felt the mighty Engine of Khorne rage against its shackled will as the warriors of its Lord bled fury into its veins. Yet even as he gave the savage creature its head, he felt the skein of fate twist and realign again. Enraged, he looked afield in time to see the entire line of Dwarven artillery unload their rune-etched weapons directly at him. This time, there was to be no escape. The Engine was struck low by a stone carved with runes of nemesis and fury, and when its head was crushed to the earth, a cannon shot glowing with the heat of a subterranean forge obliterated it in a shower of screeching steel and charred flesh. The impact flung the Paragon from his mount, and he hit the earth hard enough to crack it where his brass-shod feet braced his towering form. Casting aside his cloak, the Paragon replaced his helm and took the Godspear from where it had landed tip-first into the suffering earth. As he felt the rage inside the creature die, his own easily filled the void. And as red witchfire struck down into the ‘Spear’s tip, the Paragon surged forward, impossibly swift and potent, and struck alongside his Khornate brothers.
The combat was a fury of steel, brass and claw as the waves of unchecked hate bled into the souls of those near to the destroyed Engine. The Paragon carved through plate and hide in a savage dance of red-flamed power. Alongside, the sons of Khorne ripped furiously into the Demigryphs, who in turn tore at the brass-clad northmen with claw and blade. Both sides suffered horrendous casualties, yet the bold knights refused to give ground.
Sensing the moment, Leopold directed his mages to lend their support: with an arcane gesture The Sapphire Lady sheathed the bodies and warplate of the noble knights in a skin of magical ice that, whilst unable to block the Chaos-fire of the Godspear as it hewed down more of their number, turned the blood-slicked blades of the Khornate Warriors who could not match their former fury. The final blow came when the Champion’s mighty demigryph, enraged by the loss of its master cast down the Paragon’s standard in a fury of bestial power. Shattered, the handful of northmen fled, and the Paragon was flung aside by the onrushing and vengeful Demigryphs, as behind them a roar of triumph erupted from the Empire battleline.
Tearing at the cursed earth in his rage, the Paragon clawed to his feet and thrust the Godspear skywards. As if in answer, souls pouring from the Daemonforge were drawn down from the roiling sky as the Paragon replenished himself, and before the host of men could seize the moment and rid the field of the Chaos Lord, fire sparked from the ‘Spear and the hunt was resumed.
anselm ascendant
With the forge dragon slain and the path to the tower opening, anselm set forth the second stage of his assault. at his right, his sent the knights of mor to sweep around the tower the meet the onrushing jugger chariot, giant and the remants of the slaneshi knights closing in from among the militia bowmen. at his left, he sent the steam tank fire of sigmar to halt the irrepressible advance of the chaos dwarves, who even now were ripping apart another regiment greatswords. with these foes engaged, he ordered his screen of skirmishing archers to stand aside and set the task of taking the tower anew to his own honour guard. with these orders given anselm withdrew into the second battleline to consult the white seeress, the wizard of light brought up with the second wave.
With the forge dragon slain and the path to the tower opening, anselm set forth the second stage of his assault. at his right, his sent the knights of mor to sweep around the tower the meet the onrushing jugger chariot, giant and the remants of the slaneshi knights closing in from among the militia bowmen. at his left, he sent the steam tank fire of sigmar to halt the irrepressible advance of the chaos dwarves, who even now were ripping apart another regiment greatswords. with these foes engaged, he ordered his screen of skirmishing archers to stand aside and set the task of taking the tower anew to his own honour guard. with these orders given anselm withdrew into the second battleline to consult the white seeress, the wizard of light brought up with the second wave.
As Anselm relocated his flag to the second wave, the relentless assault of the chaos dwarves was finally halted. Having carved their way through the militia of the first wave and smashed aside one of leopold's key greatsword regiments, the hate-filled dwarves had threatened to tear the empire battleline in two. that was until the mighty steam tank fire of sigmar joined the fight. having spent much of the battle engaged in a fruitless artillery duel with the fearsome hellcannon, Anslem re-tasked the poweful war engine to halt the dwarves' advance.
with a roar of metal and flame, the fire of sigmar swung towards the dwarves and struck even as they felled the last of the greatswords. seeing the threat, the ruthlessly disciplined dwarves locked shields and met the onrushing tank with a wall of black iron and hardened sinew. the impact was devastating. the front rank of the shieldwall was crushed under the fire of sigmar's wheels, yet the formation held. green flame leapt into life in the dark steel of the dwarves weapons, and they set about their counter attack. The skull-masked sorcerer-prophet unslung his back-headed hammer, and with a brutal strike the Hardened Plates of the fire's flank Were Carved Open. protecting the damaged side of the war engine, the engineer swung the tank about and detonated explosive charges mounted across the armour plates. shrapnel tore into the chaos dwarves, felling yet another of their rapidly dwindling ranks as they scrambled to redress their ranks. again the black hammer fell, and again a mighty wound was opened in the steel beast's sides.
with the fight in the balance, the engineers opened all the valves and poured power into the engine, praying to sigmar that the mechanism would hold but knowing it could not. as the tank again turned, a mighty blast issued from the boiler: straight into the faces of the remaining dwarves. the boiling steam melted flesh and welded the dark iron plates of the stricken warriors' armour in place, as the dark dwarves' threat was finally ended. warded from the heat, the sorcerer prophet struck a final blow before retreating alone back to the ragged chaos line. the assault of the chaos dwarves had been defeated: the badly damaged fire of sigmar burned as its engineers fought to repair its shattered engine.
sensing the moment, anselm bade the white seeress to exert her power. the white lady drew from the winds of hysh and bathed the nearby warriors on energising light. time seemed to slow for the regiments around her, as they struck their foes with speed borne of just vengeance. the knights of morr hunted, smashed and put to flight the jugger chariot. the mighty war altar charged forward to waylay the onrushing warriors of slaanesh who were taking position alongside the tower. finally, anselm's honour guard swept into the forge itself, their bright blades tracing skeins of light as they tore into the decadent defenders of the tower and their debauched sorceress commander.
with a roar of metal and flame, the fire of sigmar swung towards the dwarves and struck even as they felled the last of the greatswords. seeing the threat, the ruthlessly disciplined dwarves locked shields and met the onrushing tank with a wall of black iron and hardened sinew. the impact was devastating. the front rank of the shieldwall was crushed under the fire of sigmar's wheels, yet the formation held. green flame leapt into life in the dark steel of the dwarves weapons, and they set about their counter attack. The skull-masked sorcerer-prophet unslung his back-headed hammer, and with a brutal strike the Hardened Plates of the fire's flank Were Carved Open. protecting the damaged side of the war engine, the engineer swung the tank about and detonated explosive charges mounted across the armour plates. shrapnel tore into the chaos dwarves, felling yet another of their rapidly dwindling ranks as they scrambled to redress their ranks. again the black hammer fell, and again a mighty wound was opened in the steel beast's sides.
with the fight in the balance, the engineers opened all the valves and poured power into the engine, praying to sigmar that the mechanism would hold but knowing it could not. as the tank again turned, a mighty blast issued from the boiler: straight into the faces of the remaining dwarves. the boiling steam melted flesh and welded the dark iron plates of the stricken warriors' armour in place, as the dark dwarves' threat was finally ended. warded from the heat, the sorcerer prophet struck a final blow before retreating alone back to the ragged chaos line. the assault of the chaos dwarves had been defeated: the badly damaged fire of sigmar burned as its engineers fought to repair its shattered engine.
sensing the moment, anselm bade the white seeress to exert her power. the white lady drew from the winds of hysh and bathed the nearby warriors on energising light. time seemed to slow for the regiments around her, as they struck their foes with speed borne of just vengeance. the knights of morr hunted, smashed and put to flight the jugger chariot. the mighty war altar charged forward to waylay the onrushing warriors of slaanesh who were taking position alongside the tower. finally, anselm's honour guard swept into the forge itself, their bright blades tracing skeins of light as they tore into the decadent defenders of the tower and their debauched sorceress commander.
The Lords Of The Dark Host Rise
Feeling The Tide Of Battle Turning, The Warlords Of The Dark Host Judged The Time Was Nigh And Moved To Personally Turn The Tide. Taking Flight, Razzak The Twice-Damned Joined The Fight. With The Dark-Winged Daemon Princess Of Slaanesh Flying At His Back, The Fell Sorcerer Drew From The Reserves Of His Dark Power And Struck To Try And Behead The Empire Army. Seeing Anselm And The Seeress Marching On The Tower, He Unleashed A Torrent Of Dark Magic Into Them And Their Regiment. The Seeress Tried To Form A Shield Of Light Around Her Lord, But It Was Easily Swatted Aside.
Golden Light Danced About The Regiment, Transforming Flesh, Steel, Banner And Blade Into Cold Unfeeling Gold. In Despreation, The Seeress Played Her Final Gambit. Issuing A Final Prayer, She Opened Her Soul To The Winds Of Light, And Drew Both It And The Swirling Torrent Of Dark Magic Into Herself. A Golden Tear Fell From Her Tranforming Eyes As She Felt Her Heart Turn Cold. In A Moment The Seeress Was Gone, And A Statue Of Weeping Gold Stood In Her Place.
Feeling The Tide Of Battle Turning, The Warlords Of The Dark Host Judged The Time Was Nigh And Moved To Personally Turn The Tide. Taking Flight, Razzak The Twice-Damned Joined The Fight. With The Dark-Winged Daemon Princess Of Slaanesh Flying At His Back, The Fell Sorcerer Drew From The Reserves Of His Dark Power And Struck To Try And Behead The Empire Army. Seeing Anselm And The Seeress Marching On The Tower, He Unleashed A Torrent Of Dark Magic Into Them And Their Regiment. The Seeress Tried To Form A Shield Of Light Around Her Lord, But It Was Easily Swatted Aside.
Golden Light Danced About The Regiment, Transforming Flesh, Steel, Banner And Blade Into Cold Unfeeling Gold. In Despreation, The Seeress Played Her Final Gambit. Issuing A Final Prayer, She Opened Her Soul To The Winds Of Light, And Drew Both It And The Swirling Torrent Of Dark Magic Into Herself. A Golden Tear Fell From Her Tranforming Eyes As She Felt Her Heart Turn Cold. In A Moment The Seeress Was Gone, And A Statue Of Weeping Gold Stood In Her Place.
having slain the White seeress, razzak plucked his disc from the aether once again, and charged from behind the cover of the daemon forge. with a massive, brass-clad claw he reached out to the hellcannon that unched menacingly on the nearby rocky spur. silently he directed the mighty warmachine to the target of his malice: leopold weiss and his retinue. as the hellcannon drew its harvets of souls and spewed forth a skull-shaped blast of unearthly energy, razxzak struck. golden light sprang from his eyes and arced across battling regiments before striking weiss and his knights. pouring his malice into the spell, razzak felt the resistance of weiss' golem deflect the arcane fire from its master. the Knights were not so lucky. screamed of agony ripped from scorched throats as the armour that had served the knights so well turned into their doom, as it heated, glowed then melted, taking the flesh and lives of the brave souls who bore it. in a heartbeat leopold stood alone amid screaming and dying men and horses - and then the hellcannon's fire struck.
nearby, the Sapphire lady and the outriders watched aghast as their general, their inspiration, their rock of faith vanished in a horrific explosion of green fire. when the fire died, weiss lay stricken in a ring of Scorched earth and molten bodies, his steed dead beneath him. for a moment the fury of the fighting in the middle of the field obscured the red-thewed Sorcerer, whose disc swept him out of sight. swiftly the outriders bore the sapphire-clad wizard to weiss' side.
slipping nimbly from her unicorn, the Sapphire lady knelt beside the fallen commander, fearing the worst as the witch hunter lay unmoving. then, from beneath his scorched cloak a wizened hand emerged and flung back the blackened leather. the golem twitched, its skin moulting a veneer of ash. as the lady watched, the wood of the creature's body blackened and glowed as if burning in an unseen fire. it laid its smoking hands upon weiss' breast, and as its body broke apart and dissolved in the wind, weiss' breast rose and he gasped in pain. the golem was no more, yet its master lived!
as he the thread of his life entwined with the fading golem, weiss felt the creature's loathing of all servants of chaos fuel his own fire. his head slowly rose, becoming aware of the din of battle once again. he saw the scarlet daemon sweeping behind the empire lines, wrecking the empire artillery pieces as their crews fled in abject terror. he saw another daemon - the polar opposite of the titanic red-skinned horror - its lithe, pale limbs and black-leather pinions redolent with unholy power crack the earth as it landed before his brother commander anselm and made to end his life. the saw daemons cavorting untouched in the raven's nest and knew the dwarven assault had failed. in the glowering gloom he focussed on the sapphire lady's face as it drew down towards him.
"my lady," he said, his parched throat barely able to force out the words, "we cannot prevail. but we cannot allow this place to stay a nest of daemons." the two heroes of the empire looked into each other, knowing what must be done and hating the necessity of the act.
Without a word, the sapphire lady drew up to her full height. the azure sleeves of her billowing cloak slid down revealing the pale flesh of her upraised willowy arms even as ice formed across them. her silver-blue eyes flashed as she drew power from the heavens - and a vortex of storm and star drove forth from her supple form, through the soul-wracked clouds and into the heavens. the light faded in her eyes as the power within her diminished. she looked down and offered her hand - once again pure and pale flesh - to weiss.
"it is done,' she whispered. with a nod she indicated to her companions to act. the outriders dismounted and guided their stricken lord to a waiting horse and even as the once again battle raged nearer, they bore their lord to safety.
seeing his most hated foe brought low, razzak flew into the middle of the field, ready to sweep in and finish his enemy with blade and claw. before him a brave detachment of halberdiers saw his approach and charged with pause, such was the heart and fire of the men of the empire! with malicious delight razzak turned the blades of the detachment, before obliterating their front rank with powerful sweeps of his claws before scorching the remaining warriors in a sheet of magical fire. the surviving halberdiers, seared and blinded, turned to flee only to be torn asunder on the arcane spines of his daemonic mount as it lunged forward to finish them. surging forward, razzak surveyed the field, but even he was given pause as every gun turned towards him.
nearby, the Sapphire lady and the outriders watched aghast as their general, their inspiration, their rock of faith vanished in a horrific explosion of green fire. when the fire died, weiss lay stricken in a ring of Scorched earth and molten bodies, his steed dead beneath him. for a moment the fury of the fighting in the middle of the field obscured the red-thewed Sorcerer, whose disc swept him out of sight. swiftly the outriders bore the sapphire-clad wizard to weiss' side.
slipping nimbly from her unicorn, the Sapphire lady knelt beside the fallen commander, fearing the worst as the witch hunter lay unmoving. then, from beneath his scorched cloak a wizened hand emerged and flung back the blackened leather. the golem twitched, its skin moulting a veneer of ash. as the lady watched, the wood of the creature's body blackened and glowed as if burning in an unseen fire. it laid its smoking hands upon weiss' breast, and as its body broke apart and dissolved in the wind, weiss' breast rose and he gasped in pain. the golem was no more, yet its master lived!
as he the thread of his life entwined with the fading golem, weiss felt the creature's loathing of all servants of chaos fuel his own fire. his head slowly rose, becoming aware of the din of battle once again. he saw the scarlet daemon sweeping behind the empire lines, wrecking the empire artillery pieces as their crews fled in abject terror. he saw another daemon - the polar opposite of the titanic red-skinned horror - its lithe, pale limbs and black-leather pinions redolent with unholy power crack the earth as it landed before his brother commander anselm and made to end his life. the saw daemons cavorting untouched in the raven's nest and knew the dwarven assault had failed. in the glowering gloom he focussed on the sapphire lady's face as it drew down towards him.
"my lady," he said, his parched throat barely able to force out the words, "we cannot prevail. but we cannot allow this place to stay a nest of daemons." the two heroes of the empire looked into each other, knowing what must be done and hating the necessity of the act.
Without a word, the sapphire lady drew up to her full height. the azure sleeves of her billowing cloak slid down revealing the pale flesh of her upraised willowy arms even as ice formed across them. her silver-blue eyes flashed as she drew power from the heavens - and a vortex of storm and star drove forth from her supple form, through the soul-wracked clouds and into the heavens. the light faded in her eyes as the power within her diminished. she looked down and offered her hand - once again pure and pale flesh - to weiss.
"it is done,' she whispered. with a nod she indicated to her companions to act. the outriders dismounted and guided their stricken lord to a waiting horse and even as the once again battle raged nearer, they bore their lord to safety.
seeing his most hated foe brought low, razzak flew into the middle of the field, ready to sweep in and finish his enemy with blade and claw. before him a brave detachment of halberdiers saw his approach and charged with pause, such was the heart and fire of the men of the empire! with malicious delight razzak turned the blades of the detachment, before obliterating their front rank with powerful sweeps of his claws before scorching the remaining warriors in a sheet of magical fire. the surviving halberdiers, seared and blinded, turned to flee only to be torn asunder on the arcane spines of his daemonic mount as it lunged forward to finish them. surging forward, razzak surveyed the field, but even he was given pause as every gun turned towards him.
as Razzak swept onwards, the mistress of degradation - a towering and supple daemon princess of slaanesh - stretched wide her vast leathery wings and powered into the heart of her enemy. landing with an impact that cracked the ground, she drew up and beheld her chosen foe marching before her. as his militia rallied about him, anselm and the daemon locked their gaze in a test of will and faith. Sweeping her arms wide, the mistress unleashed a wave of dark power to addle the minds of the loyal men of the empire. every man who beheld her seductive majesty was tested - some with visions of utter horror and degradation, others with waves of overwhelming desire and lust for blood and battle - anselm grasped weapons tighter as the temptation was laid upon him. rasing his eyes, he beheld the war altar of sigmar as its charged into battle and, inspired once again, held strong.
In the tower, the honour guard were unable to withstand the visions, and fled from the in a unseemly panic. all around him militia archers reeled and cavorted, yet even as the screen of archers before him fled in terror, anselm girded his militia for the attack.
In the tower, the honour guard were unable to withstand the visions, and fled from the in a unseemly panic. all around him militia archers reeled and cavorted, yet even as the screen of archers before him fled in terror, anselm girded his militia for the attack.
endgame - the fight in the balance
with the forge unclaimed, the assault on the daemon's nest repelled, and the lords of chaos running rampant on the field, the day looked dark for the forces of the empire. Yet the men of the empire looked to their oaths of vengeance and their prophet still fighting, and pushed forward for what they hoped would be the final assault.
As the waves of bloodlust emanating from the daemon princess swept across the battlefield, a rampaging pack of daemon hounds were drawn to the fight and manifested behind the remaining empire artillery. ripping through the mortar, the daemon dogs turned towards the last of the engineering corps and their cannon. knowing they were doomed, the engineer took personal command of the cannon, seeking to make its final shot count. as the claws and teeth of the hunt closed on them, their trusty cannon fired for the final time. the shot struck the mistress of degradation even as she moved to strike anselm and his militia! reeling, the daemon princess staggered back from her foe, and anselm leapt forward and delvered righteous judgement upon the uneathly temptress. with his twin hammers aglow, anselm struck the deamon's head from its body and its huge form melted into nothing before the triumphant militia's eyes.
As the towering daemon died, its malign influence faded. the militia archers recovered themselves and, seeing a warband of red-painted beserkers marching on the vacant tower of the daemon forge, they bravely leapt into action. manning the tower, they drew their bows and unleashed a volley into the onrushing chaos forces knowing even as they did so their chances of surviving as assault were slim.
alongside the khornate marauders, a far more potent threat emerged. having been held in reserve by the paragon for just this moment, a musk-reeking lord of slannesh atop a sinuous daemon steed led his bejeweled and silver-armoured chosen towards the tower. again, the men of the empire looked to their oaths and forced themselves to advance and meet the threat. having anchored the second wave, leopold's greatswords now marched to prevent the chosen reaching the tower. they had guarded their lord through battle after battle, and now finally were sent into the fray. alongside them, engine sputtering and steam pouring from a dozen rents in its mighty steel hide, the fire of sigmar lent its weight to the counter-strike.
behind this fight flew razzak the twice-damned. with a hail of empire shot chasing him across the field, the mighty sorcerer had been forced away from his foe and back into his own lines. seeing the war altar charge the supporting acolytes of slaanesh that supported the chosen warrriors, he leant his might to the fight, enchanting the blades of the debauched warriors in an effort to turn the fight. even as he did so, his spells were boosted by the presence of the chaos dwarf sorcerer-prophet, who again drew his black hammer and looked to finsih the war altar once and for all.
on the far side of the tower, only one foe remained. a twisted giant of loose and swarthy flesh stood in the lea of the tower, almost matching its height. having rid the field of the knights of slaanesh and the jugger chariot, the knights of morr swung about the tower for the final time and, led by a warrior priest in his burnished plate, rode straight at the towering monstrosity.
as the bezerks threw themselves at the tower to be met by a volley of gold-fletched arrows, the final battlelines met. disrupting the rigid line of the chaos chosen, the fire of sigmar played its part and allowed the greatswords to take advantage of their iron discipline. blades met and lives were taken.
As the waves of bloodlust emanating from the daemon princess swept across the battlefield, a rampaging pack of daemon hounds were drawn to the fight and manifested behind the remaining empire artillery. ripping through the mortar, the daemon dogs turned towards the last of the engineering corps and their cannon. knowing they were doomed, the engineer took personal command of the cannon, seeking to make its final shot count. as the claws and teeth of the hunt closed on them, their trusty cannon fired for the final time. the shot struck the mistress of degradation even as she moved to strike anselm and his militia! reeling, the daemon princess staggered back from her foe, and anselm leapt forward and delvered righteous judgement upon the uneathly temptress. with his twin hammers aglow, anselm struck the deamon's head from its body and its huge form melted into nothing before the triumphant militia's eyes.
As the towering daemon died, its malign influence faded. the militia archers recovered themselves and, seeing a warband of red-painted beserkers marching on the vacant tower of the daemon forge, they bravely leapt into action. manning the tower, they drew their bows and unleashed a volley into the onrushing chaos forces knowing even as they did so their chances of surviving as assault were slim.
alongside the khornate marauders, a far more potent threat emerged. having been held in reserve by the paragon for just this moment, a musk-reeking lord of slannesh atop a sinuous daemon steed led his bejeweled and silver-armoured chosen towards the tower. again, the men of the empire looked to their oaths and forced themselves to advance and meet the threat. having anchored the second wave, leopold's greatswords now marched to prevent the chosen reaching the tower. they had guarded their lord through battle after battle, and now finally were sent into the fray. alongside them, engine sputtering and steam pouring from a dozen rents in its mighty steel hide, the fire of sigmar lent its weight to the counter-strike.
behind this fight flew razzak the twice-damned. with a hail of empire shot chasing him across the field, the mighty sorcerer had been forced away from his foe and back into his own lines. seeing the war altar charge the supporting acolytes of slaanesh that supported the chosen warrriors, he leant his might to the fight, enchanting the blades of the debauched warriors in an effort to turn the fight. even as he did so, his spells were boosted by the presence of the chaos dwarf sorcerer-prophet, who again drew his black hammer and looked to finsih the war altar once and for all.
on the far side of the tower, only one foe remained. a twisted giant of loose and swarthy flesh stood in the lea of the tower, almost matching its height. having rid the field of the knights of slaanesh and the jugger chariot, the knights of morr swung about the tower for the final time and, led by a warrior priest in his burnished plate, rode straight at the towering monstrosity.
as the bezerks threw themselves at the tower to be met by a volley of gold-fletched arrows, the final battlelines met. disrupting the rigid line of the chaos chosen, the fire of sigmar played its part and allowed the greatswords to take advantage of their iron discipline. blades met and lives were taken.
As the greatswords lay into the slaaneshi chosen, the two champions of the regiments met, exchanging a rain of blows that were turned by plate and ward. the chosen struck back, pushing the greatswords tighter into their formation, but could not break them with the groaning steam tank protecting their flank. then, as if from nowhere and flaming spear and blur of armour and fire tore into the greatswords. with their champion engaged, the men of the empire were carved down in rows as the paragon joined the fight! none could stand before him, yet the greatswords held their nerve and refused to flee even in the face of certain destruction.
the knights of morr struck with all the fury they could muster. spearing the wretched giant in a dozen places with their lances, the knights enraged the towering beast. in its fury it plucked the warrior prient from his steed before crushing the screaming hero in its enourmous fist. blood and viscera rained down upon the black-plated knights, and the giant leaned down to claim the knight's champion. blades struck and the champion speared the beast through the palm of its mighty fist. twisting his blade, he drew the giant lower into range of the knight's swords, and together they brought the monster down.
arrows sticking from red-daubed flesh, the beserkers of of khorne swept into the tower and slew the courageous militia archers who fought with all their will unto the very last man. after so much bloody combat in the tower on this day, its halls and stairs were slick with blood and choked with the dead. the beserkers hunted the gloomy corridors seeking more victims, their red-daubed flesh making them seem like the blood itself had taken form. eventually, one beserker made his way to the tower's roof and, bestriding the battlements roared a challenge of triumph and hate at the battle below.
the knights of morr struck with all the fury they could muster. spearing the wretched giant in a dozen places with their lances, the knights enraged the towering beast. in its fury it plucked the warrior prient from his steed before crushing the screaming hero in its enourmous fist. blood and viscera rained down upon the black-plated knights, and the giant leaned down to claim the knight's champion. blades struck and the champion speared the beast through the palm of its mighty fist. twisting his blade, he drew the giant lower into range of the knight's swords, and together they brought the monster down.
arrows sticking from red-daubed flesh, the beserkers of of khorne swept into the tower and slew the courageous militia archers who fought with all their will unto the very last man. after so much bloody combat in the tower on this day, its halls and stairs were slick with blood and choked with the dead. the beserkers hunted the gloomy corridors seeking more victims, their red-daubed flesh making them seem like the blood itself had taken form. eventually, one beserker made his way to the tower's roof and, bestriding the battlements roared a challenge of triumph and hate at the battle below.
Finally, as Razzak sought his foe a mighty wave of gun fire spanked off his armour and the dark wards gifted him by his twin patrons, he spied a sight that brought forth his rage: his hated foe Leopold riding among the outriders as they traversed the field behind the remaining Empire lines. Roaring a challenge he smashed his way through the walls of shot that were directed at him and flew straight at the retreating horsemen. Lightning crackled from outstretched claws and he prepared to deliver the deathblow to the man who had pursued him from battle to battle with relentless avenging fury.
Like a thunderstorm he descended upon the outriders, whose horses reared and whinnied in panic as the otherworldly disc crackled and spun before them. Weiss, scorched and wounded, struggled to maintain control of his borrowed steed as Razzak loomed over him. He raised his claw to end his enemy, but his blow never fell. From beneath her robe the Sapphire Lady had drawn a tiny silver mirror. In a heartbeat the magical totem had drawn Razzak’s dark lightning into itself, seemingly sapping his power in the process, before feeding it back at him with a force that threw the dark sorcerer backwards. Pained, he fought to stay afloat above his disc, which spun erratically forcing the stricken sorcerer to fight for balance. Stepping forward, the Sapphire Lady bore the tiny mirror aloft, as the lead outrider steadied both Weiss and his troop and signalled them to fire on the wavering sorcerer.
With a snarl of frustration Razzak steadied himself and turned to withdraw. As he did so, the roiling sky on the northern horizon suddenly glowed bright blue, as if lit from behind. Weiss, clutching the saddle, winced in pain and anguish as he prepared to bear witness to what for him was his ultimate failure. A mighty thunderclap pealed across the field, all but the most hard-pressed warriors paused. Weapons went slack in mailed fists. Barrels of cannon that had spat shot after shot for what seemed an eternity suddenly went quiet. The snap of torn banners was suddenly distinct in the unexpected quiet.
A dull roar quickly escalated to a deafening peal of furious sound as the light in the northern sky built behind the clouds. Swiftly, the clouds themselves were scattered from the sky as a towering ball of azure light penetrated the gloom. As the sound became unbearable, the light descended through the clouds – blue fire trailing a massive ball of rock and ice that burst from the sky and struck the Daemon’s Nest! Stone split; the earth heaved; incorporate bodies of red and white-fleshed daemons were vapourised in a heartbeat. In a flash of light, noise and power the Daemon’s Nest simply ceased to be. Warriors fighting nearby were consumed by the conflagration of destruction or struck by flying shards of stone.
Like a thunderstorm he descended upon the outriders, whose horses reared and whinnied in panic as the otherworldly disc crackled and spun before them. Weiss, scorched and wounded, struggled to maintain control of his borrowed steed as Razzak loomed over him. He raised his claw to end his enemy, but his blow never fell. From beneath her robe the Sapphire Lady had drawn a tiny silver mirror. In a heartbeat the magical totem had drawn Razzak’s dark lightning into itself, seemingly sapping his power in the process, before feeding it back at him with a force that threw the dark sorcerer backwards. Pained, he fought to stay afloat above his disc, which spun erratically forcing the stricken sorcerer to fight for balance. Stepping forward, the Sapphire Lady bore the tiny mirror aloft, as the lead outrider steadied both Weiss and his troop and signalled them to fire on the wavering sorcerer.
With a snarl of frustration Razzak steadied himself and turned to withdraw. As he did so, the roiling sky on the northern horizon suddenly glowed bright blue, as if lit from behind. Weiss, clutching the saddle, winced in pain and anguish as he prepared to bear witness to what for him was his ultimate failure. A mighty thunderclap pealed across the field, all but the most hard-pressed warriors paused. Weapons went slack in mailed fists. Barrels of cannon that had spat shot after shot for what seemed an eternity suddenly went quiet. The snap of torn banners was suddenly distinct in the unexpected quiet.
A dull roar quickly escalated to a deafening peal of furious sound as the light in the northern sky built behind the clouds. Swiftly, the clouds themselves were scattered from the sky as a towering ball of azure light penetrated the gloom. As the sound became unbearable, the light descended through the clouds – blue fire trailing a massive ball of rock and ice that burst from the sky and struck the Daemon’s Nest! Stone split; the earth heaved; incorporate bodies of red and white-fleshed daemons were vapourised in a heartbeat. In a flash of light, noise and power the Daemon’s Nest simply ceased to be. Warriors fighting nearby were consumed by the conflagration of destruction or struck by flying shards of stone.
As the sound and light faded, Weiss slumped in the saddle. “It is done” he said sadly. The Sapphire Lady steadied the weary warrior. He raised his eyes to see his foe skimming away from the destruction, and the surviving forces of Chaos retreating. Behind him the forces of the Empire, torn and ravaged yet unbowed greeted the sight with grim determination. There was no cheer, no horn sounded in triumph – merely a wearied acceptance that the battle was ended and a prayer of thanks to Sigmar that they had survived. Before them, a scorched and broken land lay around a crater of burned stone that still glowed eerily as the aetheric power of the Dark Gods bled from the shattered rubble.
From the wreckage of battle, Anselm strode to where Weiss stood. Blackened, bloodied and weary, the People’s Prophet clutched the horseman’s gauntlet and said “They are gone. By the strength of Sigmar we have prevailed”.
As The Two Heroes Of The Empire Watched, A Green-Limned Mist Curled Out Of The Fallen Keep And Crept Across The Blackened Ground, Which Twitched And Crackled As The Mist Passed Across It. Fallen Bodies Likewise Twitched And Blackened As The Mist Prowled Over Them, Swiftly Passing Into Nothingness At The Fell Fog’s Touch. Finally, The Mist Swirled About The Daemon Forge, Which Pulsed With An Evil Light As It Drew The Mist Into Itself, And Faded From Sight.
“No, Anselm,“ said Weiss, “we have not. I rode to save the lands of Morr, but I have merely presided over their destruction. No soul will return here.” With a quiet melancholy, the two warriors gathered their surviving troops and turned away, leading their men away from the cursed earth and back to the fertile fields of their homes.
From the wreckage of battle, Anselm strode to where Weiss stood. Blackened, bloodied and weary, the People’s Prophet clutched the horseman’s gauntlet and said “They are gone. By the strength of Sigmar we have prevailed”.
As The Two Heroes Of The Empire Watched, A Green-Limned Mist Curled Out Of The Fallen Keep And Crept Across The Blackened Ground, Which Twitched And Crackled As The Mist Passed Across It. Fallen Bodies Likewise Twitched And Blackened As The Mist Prowled Over Them, Swiftly Passing Into Nothingness At The Fell Fog’s Touch. Finally, The Mist Swirled About The Daemon Forge, Which Pulsed With An Evil Light As It Drew The Mist Into Itself, And Faded From Sight.
“No, Anselm,“ said Weiss, “we have not. I rode to save the lands of Morr, but I have merely presided over their destruction. No soul will return here.” With a quiet melancholy, the two warriors gathered their surviving troops and turned away, leading their men away from the cursed earth and back to the fertile fields of their homes.