Penumbral Torches - AoS Report Ep 4.

 In the aftermath of Nagash's Necroquake most of the Penumbral Engines of the Mortal Realms malfunctioned - no longer shrouding from thought the location of the Sigmar's Stormvaults. In these reliquaries the God King hid many items of fantastic power deemed to dangerous lest they fall into the wrong hands. Deep in Ulgu, the Realm of Shadow, the recently revealed location of the Stormvault housing a relic known as Luminous Heart was already making the rounds of gossip among the ambitious and powerful in the realm and even beyond. Not much was known of this item, save it was snatched away during the civil war that nearly destroyed the Lumineth Entirely in their own realm of Hysh. 

 Although the location of the Stormvault was no longer a secret, accessing it would prove difficult, if not deadly. Still, two forces already marched on its location. Climbing down into a shadowed labyrinth under a dreaded rock known as the Pit of Hungering Shades by the locals was the expeditionary force of Samira the Veiled - a Scinari Cathallar of the great nation of Syar. She brought along with her an Alarith Spirit of the Mountains, hoping his geomantic prowess could prevent them from dying in a cave-in and help navigate the treacherous tunnels. The rest of the expedition was formed of two phalanxes of Vanari Wardens, one group of Vanari Sentinels and two groups of Namarti Mercenaries, one wielding swords the other bows. The Namarti's inborn blindness would serve them well in the pitch black. As she wanted to enter the labyrinth first a hollow armor - barely gleaming in the dusky darkness of Ulgu, yet still somehow radiant, interceded and requested to lead the foray. The Spirit of Eltharion the Grim - now bound to his armor as the Light of Eltharion was the martial leader of the group whereas Samira was the intrepid archaeologist. 

 After a few hours of trudging through the darkness the Syari elves came to find out why this location was worthy of its name. They found plenty of signs to indicate this cavern complex is a Troggoth den - even worse the shadows here seem to be alive and bloodthirsty. The local guide that brought them here and a couple of menials fell prey to the hungering dark during the march. As the column took what felt like the dozenth bend in the tunnels the place opened up into an enormous cave, plenty of space for a hundred men. The cavern walls were reinforced with Azyrite masonry and in the distance the shattered remains of the Penumbral Engine lay scattered and battered by what Samira assumed was the local troggoths This was clearly the place. The entrance to the Stormvault! But on the opposite side of the cavern instead of troggs or horrors of Ulgu the Syari Elves found a veritable army. A mercenary company flying the colors of Hammerhall, one of the Cities of Sigmar. The troops were serving themselves from a keg - possibly trying to restore morale in such an ill fate. As the commanders were nowhere to be seen the Light of Eltharion ordered the Lumineth ranks to form up. This didn't need to be a fight, but with a force this large the Hammerhallians clearly wanted the contents of the Stormvault just as much as the Lumineth did. Samira sent a runner to parlay with the commanders of the mercenary army - but just as the runner was about to set off a celestial bolt of lightning flickered into existence, bringing with it a small host of Stormcast Eternals paladins, their leader the most imposing of them was riding a Dracoth.

Seeing the Lumineth as plunderers the newly arrived Stormcast quickly took over command of the seemingly commander-less Hammerhallian forces and rallied them to push out the "pilfering aelves" from their guarded Stormvault. Before the two forces could even march on each other a bellowing cry sounded from multiple entrances to the large caverns and ferocious troggoths came lumbering in, clubs in hand. Their Troggboss attempted to charge the flank with the Alarith Spirit but a momentary hesitation was enough to not make contact with the Lumineth lines. The rest of the Dankhold Troggoths each lumbered towards the three remaining flanks of the armies, tentatively, noticing that their boss wasn't outright feasting already. 

 

 With a thunderous roar the usually slow Alarith Spirit sprinted into action towards the lines of the Hammerhall mercenaries. Neither Samira nor Eltharion gave the order - the madness of Ulgu was filling everyone's minds with paranoia and false whispers. The Swordsmen braced for impact - but just before the craggy bovine made contact he used his geomantic mastery to break off a stalactite from the ceiling and impale the Troggboss on it...then the Worldbreaker Hammer made impact. 17 of the 20 Swordsmen lay dead. Samira and Eltharion quickly realized that the only way to prevent such tactical disasters and stave off the now physical manifestations of the darkness in these caverns they would need to light the Penumbral Torches in the four gargoyles around the Stormvault. Their first concern was the safety of their troops. 

The Hammerhallian lines did not buckle under the charge of the Alarith Spirit. The Swordsmen stood fast and the Stormcast Commander joined the fray. Together with a generous peppering of lead from the Hellblaster Volley Gun the frenzied Spirit lay defeated and crumbled down into the dirt of the cavern - its shining armor now filled with inanimate matter. The first Umbral Torch on the side of the Freeguilds was lit - but as it needed a magical spark that only their commander could wield the second one did not respond to the flint and tinder of the troops. Two Freeguild Spearmen were abducted by the Shadows.

The Light of Eltharion waded into the fray on his flank as Samira and the Phalanx braced for the counteratack of the Stormcast Paladins. The Troggoths emboldened by the death of the Mountain Spirit wreaked havoc in the lines of the Lumineth. Eltharion ordered them and the Namarti Reavers to hold the torch and keep together while he secures the lighting of the fourth and final torch. That was the mystery of how to access the Stormvault - but also how to survive this damnable pit. 

 

 

 Although outnumbered Eltharion proceeded to wade into the mass of Spearmen and Handgunners, making his way to the gargoyle holding the Umbral Torch. As the melee commenced the Handgunners opened fire on the hollow armor - leaving a few serious dents. Shadow Warriors, true to their name, appeared from the shadows and started shooting at the blind Namarti Reavers - albeit very poorly due to the reduced visibility outside of the range of the Umbral Torches. They used the chaos caused by the wild Troggoth to pincer in the blind archers and attempt to wrest the torch from them. 

And then...a respite in the booming from the eastern flank. One of the Troggoths managed to get to the Hellblaster volley gun. The stupid creature - uninterested in the crew - started bashing on the equipment, giving the crew a few opportunities to stab at its thick hide with whatever weapons they could improvise. The darkness grew bolder and bolder, devouring shadow warriors and freeguild spear-men. Everyone outside the range of a torch was in danger. Eltharion managed to cut through most of the freeguild mercenaries albeit taking horrendous damage himself and lit the final torch. The way to the Stormvault was now open! A lone handgunner remained from his unit, but he was determined to take down the now-drenched in blood hollow armor. He fires a first shot...and misses. Eltharion turns to him menacingly. Panicked he loads his long-rifle as fast as he can. Shot and gunpowder spilling everywhere. He closes his eyes and pulls the trigger and with a loud explosion....the light inside the bloodied armor dissipates and the pieces scatter onto the ground.

 

  On the other side of the battlefield the charge of the Stormcast paladins devastated the Vanari sentinels but the Namarti made quick work of the Dracoth and its rider. Samira was pleased with her choice of mercenaries and would return to their enclave to hire more. With the Stormvault now open she ordered the four wardens left after the grand melee to placate the three Stormcast Protectors while she goes to unlock the Stormvault. The Protectors do not notice the veiled aelf slipping away and instead push the Vanari lines for maximum casualties.

 With both sides fighting to almost a man and the lights in the penumbral torches starting to flicker slowly into nonexistence the shades fly into the cavern and start feasting on living and dead alike. With a crackle and a hiss the locks on the Stormvault open and a radiant light fills the room. The blueish purplish flames in the penumbral torches turn pure white. Samira reaches out and grabs a breast-sized orb of absolute radiant light and holds it aloft - banishing the shades and screaming for a ceasefire. She got what she came for. She offers the remnants of the Hammerhall mercenaries safe passage out of the tunnels together with her 3 remaining Wardens and 6 Namarti Reavers. The day is won for the Syari Aelves. It will be a long and painful way home to Hysh given the casualties, but in the moments when she is not performing her mourner's job - the elven leader is filled with glee at securing this artifact of her people back in the hands of her nation. What purpose justifies such carnage for one small orb? Only time will tell. 

 

Souls and Wounds in Hallost - AoS Report Ep 3.

Guest written by MB  

Two ghostly apparitions floated in the eerie landscape of Hallost’s many haunted plains.
‘Would you hurry up!’, demanded the green tinted apparition.
‘I just do not understand the hurry. In this state… We have all the time…’, commented the red one. The green apparition initially just scoffed, but then tried to entice the companion’s curiosity.
‘Bludd told me of a great skirmish. It is just over this hill. Hurry!’, the green’s misty emanation expanded two-fold as it darted towards the crest of the hill.
‘Now this is interesting’, confirmed the formerly reluctant red apparition once it also reached the hill’s top.
‘I told you, Bludd always recommends the best’, Green said.
‘Right, Bludd…’, Red wanted to comment something but held it for itself. ‘…And who fought here?’, Red asked instead. Green flew to what looked like the starting point of one of the sides.
‘Here? Well, Bludd said Idoneth of…’, Green tried to remember what Bludd said ‘… of… Mor’phaan? Wait! No! Idoneth of Dhom-Hainn. Yes, Bludd said, Dhom-Hainn’, Green explained with naïve joy.
‘Deepkin? Scary sea-tales do not fight battles’, said Red in a very annoyed voice as he looked down at the footprints of troops mustering into battle-lines. ‘These do not look very nautical’, it concluded.
‘When you came here you told me that you did not believe in the Ghouls or Bonereapers either, until mortal you was knee deep in crushed reanimated bone creatures. Once you gloriously fell in battle from the sixth wave of those creatures you became a believer. Albeit for just a short time’, reminded Green.
‘So what?’, asked Red. ‘Are you questioning my battles?’, Red went mad.
‘No, not at all. All I am saying is … keep an open mind. Also Bludd would not lie, would---?’, Green tried to say it as a matter-of-fact.
‘Alright. Alright’, Red shouted, cutting Green’s words off. ‘Bludd. Bludd. Bludd’, Red enumerated with sarcasm.
‘Jealous?’, asked an amused Green. The other one’s features became livid. ‘What? No!’, Red tried to defend. Green continued to be amused, looking at the other apparition trying to form understandable sentences.
‘You know what? No. I will not even try’, Red said, finally giving up. ‘So? What did Bludd say about these Deepkin’, asked a defeated Red.
‘Let’s start with their leaders’, said Green.   

***

‘It’s not enough’, Nithral said to himself. The Isharann Soulrenderer was uneasy for a while now. In his head, he obsessively kept adding the souls he collected on the campaign and the sum he was getting did not ease his anxiety.  
‘At this rate I will fall short. Abysmally short’, he whispered by himself. He felt a dark place forming in his chest. Painful. It pulled on him and he felt that it would implode his chest. He longed for an easy breath. A fear of suffocation gripped him. Was he exposed to the air? Drowning in the air of the surface dwellers became a real concern. So he looked at his fellow Isharann Tidecaster and told her to check if her spell for the ethersea was not faltering.
She barked back annoyed at such a request, if the spell was faltering they would be in greater distress and she does not make mistakes. Nithral sunk back into his thoughts redoing his calculation and collection predictions again and again.
The Tidecaster darted ahead. Fuming. But she was not particularly annoyed by Nithral’s comments. It miffed her, yes, but other reasons weight heavier on her.
Cathala, the Tidecaster, was exposed since childbirth to the unhealthy obsession of her people. The obsession that their souls were in a way stained by their interaction with the gluttonous Slannesh. That somehow the chaos god’s corruption survived after their release.
The greater corruption surviving as a small kernel hidden deep in their soul. They feared the kernel would one day find fertile nutrients and start to grow and corrupt… and degenerate the affected person.
Such a mental landscape surrounded the young Cathala while she grew. Once matured she coped with the looming issue by going on a methodical and some would say obsessive regiment of cleansing. She kept herself and her surroundings spotless. She figured that the methodical purification is mechanically and philosophically anathema to any chaos god and their corrupting powers.
The tranquility she reached, if allowed to do all her rituals, made her a confident spellcaster. A dominant figure in any encounter. A literal tidal wave of the Apocalypse.
Sadly, the lightning nature of this campaign seeped into the reality of camp life, into the rigor of marching and into the messiness of battle. All of those conspired this time against her. Her backlog of much needed cleaning grew exponentially with each day. She felt disgusted.
‘Just a few measly hours’, she commented when she was far ahead of Nithral. That is all she thought she needed to clean herself, but Nithral was driven hard by his mission.

***

‘Broken’, said Red.
‘People of their times’, confirmed Green.
‘And who was over there?’, asked Red gliding to the other side of the battlefield.
‘Here?’, Green joined Red well behind the battle lines.
‘Yes, here’, answered Red.
‘There, were you are now, was a Demon Prince, a Shamaness and a Sorcerer. All three arguing’, said Green.
***
‘Eighteen!’, the Sorcerer took the opportunity to talk first.
‘What? No. Twenty two. That is all’, the Demon Prince’s scabs bobbed on his belly as he ended his sentence with a chuckle.
‘You are both conservative, the Shamaness concluded. ‘You can go as far as thirty’, she added her interpretation.
‘Thirty?’, the Demon Prince and the Sorcerer looked at her with disbelieving but hungry eyes.
‘Yes. Thirty separate wound infections. More and the afflicted would die immediately’, she spoke with confidence. ‘Dying immediately is not good. Because--’, she started saying.
‘We know. “Lives should not be wasted. They should be spent wisely.” You told us multiple times’, both regurgitated her often spoken mantra.
‘There we go’, she said satisfied.
‘I still do not believe you can go that far’, said the Demon Prince. ‘I’ve seen many battles and--’
‘Takes a bit of preparation’, the Shamaness cut him off to show three vials, two bottles and four jugs of foul looking substances, some having ill-looking organic tissue floating around. ‘I can do a little demonstration’, she announced.
‘Even so, it is too much. It would be insanity to try’, the Sorcerer shared his opinion rashly, a bit tinted by strategic considerations.
‘No. Let her put her infections where her mouth is’, demanded the Demon Prince with a jolly grin. ‘If she manages, we will know how to share the love of our Grandfather even more.’
‘Perhaps’, the Sorcerer began to say juggling his faith and position as commander, ‘Alright, it will be an interesting inquiry into the matter’, he said overwhelmed with curiosity. ‘Show us during our next skirmish’, he said to the Shamaness. She accepted with masochistic glee. The three and their host continued further without any arguments, preferring to hum to a merry chant about blisters, fevers and weeping sores.

***

‘Wait. If these came through here and the Idoneth came from there… That means…’, Red started to piece things together.
‘Yes, both hosts were going to the shrines’, added Green after Red took too much time to say anything. Red looked annoyed again since it wanted to announce the finding.
‘Let me tell you about the carnage. Maybe you will feel better’, said Green. Red nodded pleasantly.
Green painted an image of the two battle lines forming. Red settled to hear the story.

***

 ‘This is taking forever!’, shouted Theddra the Shamaness to Septimus the Sorcerer as their line moved slowly through the ossuary towards the Idoneth line.
‘Do you not have a task to do, Theddra?!’, shouted Septimus verily pissed off. Battle has started. He did not like to have his tactics questioned during battle. He pointed towards the shrines. ‘Fix those first and then you can bite!’, he ordered her. Appealing to her primordial battle hungry spirit. A tribal whoop ensued and she darted to the closest shrine.

***

Nithral the Isharann Soulrenderer watched the succulent souls marching slowly towards his lines. One cavalry change and those would be his. He barely contained himself to order the charge. He held one arm with the other to stop himself for ordering something he would regret. However, he strained at the thought the he was missing an opportunity.
‘I must look away’, he urged himself.
He turned away. He was now looking at his lines. At his deepkin. He looked beyond the flesh. He saw all the souls he would personally loose to a rash decision.
‘But the soul harvest?’, a voice echoed in his mind. ‘I need them. I have made the calculations. Results are lacking’, explained the voice. ‘Yes, some might fall. However, that is war. Sacrifices and toil is expected for a bountiful harvest’, the voice made a lot of sense. Nithral let go of his hand. It was free to give the command. For the first time a greedy grin emerged on his face. ‘Yes, smash them. Claim their souls!’, his internal voice said. Nithral stood his ground. Preparing to issue an order.
‘Archers! Level them to the ground!’, he shouted, raising his arm. He conquered his rashness. For a moment, Nithral was happy. Not for long though. The tides of battle always change and the unprepared tend to drown in defeat. Nithral focused mainly on the battle, fighting both the enemy outside and the enemy within. The shrines became an afterthought.
On the other hand, Cathala the Tidecaster was losing focus ever since the battle lines were drawn. The appearance of the unclean hordes of Nurgle sent a cold shock through her body. She was already slightly unclean. Therefore, the thought of coming into additional contact with any of the ill assortment of degenerate flesh unhinged her with every sight she took and with every breath she took of the smelling atmosphere.
She tried to focus on the tactical battle. She failed. More and more of her willpower was focusing internally trying to stop herself from fleeing.

***

‘Stupid, aelf-fish’, roared Septimus seeing arrows thud into his warriors. He wanted a rash Idoneth charge, but he got a rain of arrows.
‘Now!?’, asked Rotgut the Ascended, his demon prince wings stretching with anticipation.
‘Yes, now’, shouted Septimus with an overpowering smudge of sarcasm. ‘Seems the aelf-fish are too shy to battle us properly. No matter. Ruin shall come to them’, Septimus waxed poetically. He ordered his entire line to move against his enemy.
On one of the flanks, Theddra communed with the first shrine and she saw the chaos line double time over the battlefield.
‘It was about time’, she commented while planning her route to the second shrine.

***

The chaos cavalry was first upon the Idoneth line. Nithral and a reluctant Cathala oversaw warriors that erected a wall of halberds against the chaos charge.  A giant crash ensued. Blood and puss spilled from it.  
The mercenary Phoenix Guard survived unscathed from the charge, but after the dust settled poor Cathala was on the edge of a complete mental breakdown.
Due to her unfortunate positioning, she realized that bits and liquid dislodged from her foes run-in with the sharp halberds found its way upon her.
She shivered in disgust and froze into place.     
‘Cathala!?’, shouted Nithral. ‘Are you alright?’, he asked desperately. The Tidecaster replied with a blank stare. Nithral tried to wake his fellow Idoneth into action, but nothing could rouse her back. He gave out a defeated sigh and showed her the backline.
‘Fall back. Rest’, he urged. Her senses returned enough for her to walk in a zombie-like march. She stopped to wipe her face and heard behind her the chaos infantry engage with her lines. Nithral was frantic in trying to organize his infantry, launch his cavalry and maybe reach a shrine.

***

‘Still dry?’, asked Thedda the Shamaness, trying to goad the Demon Prince into more bloodshed. Rotgut looked as the Shamaness glide towards the other flank to commune with the second shrine.
‘Enjoying your stroll, dear?’, Rotgut shouted back. ‘How many do you want me to leave for your little show and tell?’, he asked getting ready to pulverize a line of Namarti Thralls.
‘I’m sure plenty will remain once I’m done with the second shrine’, she said. Rotgut just giggled in a grandfatherly way as his giant sword was swooping into deepkin flesh.

***

‘Looks like the fulcrum was here’, said Red circling a spot on the battlefield.
‘Yes this is where the grind happened’, answered Green. ‘But the best action was on the flanks with the cavalry’, Green gushed with enthusiasm. ‘Cavalry life is the best!’, came a confession from Green. The enthusiasm died when Green said “life”.
‘You were cavalry? You know, before…’, asked Red.
‘Yes’, answered Green.
‘Strange. I always pictured you as a skirmisher’, said Red.
‘No. No. No. Mounted warrior. That was me’, spoke Green with its fire extinguished.
‘I see’, said Red. ‘And what exactly happened on the flanks?’, asked Red. ‘What did the cavalry actually do there?’, it continued to ask for more from Green.
‘Ah, well, you see…’, Green bounced back after a while. It spoke of a great clash between the shark mounted deepkin and the chaos cavalry. They bruised and butchered themselves until the chaos cavalry was no more. ‘Do not be disappointed, brethren! More are coming!’, Green impersonated the shark cavalry leader as he saw a unit of chaos warriors bearing down on them.
‘And on the other flank?’, asked Red. Green returned to its bubbly self. ‘Oh, this is the best part! Picture this. Deepkin on eels slithering towards the center of the battlefield. Trampling and gutting every foe in their path’, Green motioned their progress.
‘Really?’, asked politely Red.
‘Oh, yes! Not even the great Demon Prince of Nurgle could hold himself alive in the face of such brilliant cavalry action. Twenty stab wounds and he was Rotgut the Dead’, said Green.
‘What happened to Septimus?’, asked Red.

***

‘Where in the bloody, fever drenched Garden of the Father are you?!’, screamed Thedda looking for Septimus. Their lines were faltering everywhere. The infantry reduced to a few warriors. The cavalry no more. The Demon Prince fallen. The enemy commander abandoned the second shrine choosing to focus on their complete destruction.
‘Here!’, he said behind a wall trying to dodge arrows from enemy archers.
‘What shall we do?’, she asked. ‘I do not want to flee!’, she pleaded.
‘I don’t want to either!’, Septimus said getting almost too close into the fly path of an arrow. ‘I do not know… Do you see a path to the third shrine?’, he asked knowing he cannot reach it as he was pinned down.
‘I … maybe… I do not know…’, she said half-heartedly. Sharp Idoneth halberds were very close and their Eel Cavalry was barreling down. She looked at the three remaining chaos warriors and two of her remaining barbarian companions and nodded towards the central and final shrine.

***

‘What?!’, said Nithral audibly as he saw the desperate chaos charge towards the central shrine. He lost interest in killing the enemy commander with arrow fire and instead focused on getting the Phoenix Guard to surround the shrine.
The remaining Guard formed their line and felt the brunt of the chaos weapons on them. Nithral urged them to hold, because if the line remained it would mean certain the defeat for the slaves to darkness as the Eels were closing in and still hungry.
The enemy Shamaness pushed in without caring for personal safety. Her body was covered in wound after wound. Her sheer determination broke through the Phoenix Guard and placed her hand on the shrine. They tried to break her, plastering another set of gashes into her thigh, but she stood tall and completed her communion with the shrine.
It was over. The Guard was the first to understand it and they broke. Nithral was the second and he ordered a full retreat of all Idoneth forces from the battlefield.

***

‘You did it!’, shouted Septimus emerging from behind his ruined wall. Theddra, bloodied, turned her body towards the chaos sorcerer.
‘Forty three wounds’, she said proudly waving towards herself.
‘I do not know how you are still standing’, said Septimus.
‘Preparations’, she uttered before collapsing to the ground. The remaining warriors around her picked her up and carried her away to safety.

***

The two ghostly apparitions became attentive to something in the distance.
‘Bludd?’, asked Red.
‘Bludd’, answered Green.
‘Do you think it is about the feast upon the vanquished?’, Red asked again.
‘I…’, Green began to speak but stopped looking around the battlefield. ‘Yes, we should go. It gets angry if we do not obey’, Green finally said. Red tried to comfort its companion as they floated away from the battlefield.
‘For a former mounted warrior, you are a bit slow’, Red taunted Green from the top of a hill. ‘There are times the cavalry should take their sweet time’, Green answered with a smile towards Red. ‘Which reminds me… I should tell you about the time we charged a hill…’, started Green to tell one of it’s story.
‘A hill?’, asked an amused Red.
‘Yes. A hill!’, Green recounted amused, their tale slowly fading as they both melted into the haunted landscape of Hallost.

The Grey Death - AoS Report Ep 2.

Guest Written by Mihai Dan Popescu


The Grey Death

Liege Axitof watched the lands ahead. The humans were gathering to try to stop the advance of the mighty legions of Ossiarch. He looked at his troops. Maybe less than half the number of the enemy… but his troops had a fire burning in their chests. Quite literally. Axitof would have chuckled… But there was no one around him to appreciate such a gesture. The guards with their faces stocked in mockery, defiance or demented grins were nothing more than extensions of his own will. There seemed to be a flicker behind their eyes, but it was just the fire of the Crematorians.

The plan was simple. Hit the enemy, drag him down. Once decimated and routed, push enough troops behind the enemy line to lay waste to their encampment. He had the confidence that this was a simple task. His 40 mortek guards were not only able to deal death to the enemy, but also soak up most of what the enemy would be able to throw at them. Two mortisians were also here to help with the survival of his army. And in case a guard would fall, he would be able to take down the enemy with him in an explosion of bone-shrapnel.

He gave the order and with a furious charge the two armies clashed. The entire enemy line was hit by his guards, while he charged in the flank of an already engaged group of pikemen. He noticed the Soulreaper also charging in a group of enemies. He was surrounded by his guards and could inflict some damage where needed, but that Soulreaper was taking too much of a risk. He cursed him, and once again wished he had full control over everyone in his army. He hated this free-will so much.

While he trampled the pikemen he noticed his troops didn’t kill as many humans as he had anticipated and the humans didn’t seem to back down. It was curious for such creatures inflicted with free will to have such courage in face of his army of terror. He heard  the sounds of thunder in the clear sky and noticed the guards around the Soulreaper exploding while smoke from the pistols of some humans in the back was starting to fill the air. Curses! he needed to get there and take them out. Lost in thought he got surrounded by the pikemen and they even dared to hurt his body. Filled with rage, he cut them down to the last men.

The clash went on, more of the humans falling then of his guards. The handgunners salvo again laid waste to his troops, but this time they used this to their advantage. The guards almost embraced the Greatswordsmen trying to take down as many with them. When the arquebuses were silenced again only a lone human survivor was standing upon the ruins of what seemed a great city once. A stubby ‘man’ in heavy armor smashed into guards. He was expecting to have a greater impact but the guards walled him and eventually started to surround him. The Soulreaper's presence was not ignored as the human kept a respectable distance from his scythe. The Soulreaper was able to take a man here and there, but they didn’t feel the full power of the scythe. 

The rest of the guards were mowing down the remaining humans and surrounding the dwarf lord. It was time to deal with the handgunners. But as he charged into them he was welcomed by a hail of bullets, he avoided some, his armor deflected a few, but he was hit enough times to know this body was compromised. With a final act he hoped he could take down some of the Handgunners and the three Sigmarites with crossbows. But he miscalculated the tenacity of his enemy in the face of overwhelming odds. He died later in a tremendous explosion taking a Stormcast Eternal with him.

The dwarf lord was badly hurt and the guards were pouring over him. He was deflecting blows left and right, barely having time to try to hit any of the attackers. There is no shame in his courage as when he felt he was surrounded by no less than six guards and his armor and shield was dented from all the blows he had received.  

The Stormcast and Handgunners took down the last of the guards that were with the Soulreaper, just as he decided it was time to ignore this commotion and finish the mission. The Soulmason that until now was staying in the back and buffing the army, saw the approaching greatswordsmen trying to break into the Ossiarch territory. He released an arcane bolt and… missed. So he gave chase to the swordsman, eventually taking him down on the second try.

Dispatching of the dwarf lords the guards charged into the Handgunners and the two remaining Vanguard Raptors, giving the Soulreaper the chance to advance… until he was struck by lightning forked from the human wizard's hands. Badly damaged the Soulreaper stood fast. The guards made short work of the Stormcast and Handgunners. It was now only up to the human wizard to stop the badly wounded  Soulreaper. She gathered her will to manipulate the winds of magic, just as the Soulreaper was trying to deny it. But something in her concentration broke and she looked helpless at the Soulreaper approaching her encampment as the wind of magic dissipated around her before she could use them. 

 

  

 The soulreaper's body from black turned red and was engulfed in a white light as the encampment started to burn. Defeated, the human wizard started to move away from the lost battle as the mortek guards were now ignoring her. She swears she will avenge the death of her comrades.

Plain of Iron Tears - AoS Report Ep. 1

The wastelands of Chamon, the Realm of Metal, are not a place often graced by the tread of travelers, let alone entire armies on the march. That, however, was about to change when six enterprising warlords were informed of the approximate location of the tomb of Kurt Ravenholm, and the treasure that lies therein. Many miles away from civilization, in a place that was once a fertile valley, now a desolate dust-bowl which receives only leaden rain, lay the ruins of a temple complex to forgotten gods, built by the first humans in the Age of Myth. It was here, among the six barrows of these ancient people that the fabled tomb lie. 

The agents of Sigmar, the Stormcast Eternals of both Vanguard and Sacrosanct chambers - came to retrieve the soul of the mighty hero for reforging. The tomb has been sealed in such a manner that the soul was still inside, and has avoided the malicious grasp of Nagash, or the thunder of Sigmar. It had to be retrieved firsthand. Accompanying the small band was a contingent of Hammerhall mercenaries and a handful of Ogors atop Stonehorn mounts lured by promises of wealth and copious feasts.

The Stormcast were not the only ones who came to collect the soul. Nagash has sent his Ossiarch Bonereapers - Soulmason and Boneshaper in tow to convert the dead hero to their legions. No more great soul would be left to be stolen anymore by the God King, especially not an ancient one such as this. Like vultures to a corpse the followers of Tzeentch slithered onto the battlefield on the left flank of the Ossiarch Phalanx, maintaining enough distance from the Undead and the barrows as to not attract their immediate ire, but close enough to the forces of Order so that they could quickly engage with their weakest side. Last but not least, a raiding party of deepkin appeared on the left side of the Ossiarch line - paying no heed to either the undead or the servants of Tzeentch. The charge was immediately sounded. The Soulrender's ultimate goal was the soul of the mighty hero for their High King, but the boisterous Akhelian cavalry and seemingly frenzied Namarti rushed the Hammerhallian lines eager for a reaping of a large amount of souls, regardless of quality.

Making use of the impetus and the confusion caused by the Idoneth charge on the left flank. The right flank of Tzaangors crashed into the Sacrosanct Sequitors, resulting in a brutal melee. Spells were flung at the forces of order from every direction, a fact which delighted the God of Magic, everything was going -just as planned-. The forces of the Bonereapers made a slow march towards the center Barrow, content to leave the other forces deal with their enemies while they search for the hero's tomb.

While the initial push of the Idoneth left a large gap in the Hammerhallian lines, their momentum soon ended as the Ogor Butcher rotted their armor away with magic, and the mighty Frostlord on Stonehorn trampled the Akhelian Cavalry, Soulrender and Namarti into fine powder. The Stormcast decided to assist their Human and Ogor allies on the opposing flank, as the Mortek Guard and Gothizzar harvester were pushing their more elite infantry back. The Lord Aquillor as well as the Paladors were teleported via lightning strike to the other side and picked off what little remained of the Idoneth forces. This was a raid that no elf returned from.

With what a crushing defeat was dealt to the Ossiarchs and the Deepkin on the left flank by the Ogors and Stormcast toops, at the cost of nearly a hundred Hammerhall mercenaries' lives, the situation looked grim on the right flank. The Stonehorn beastriders was brought low by the exploding bodies of the Mortek Guard he had just killed - Nagash had prepared a volatile surprise for anyone that managed to slay one of his perfected soldiers. As the forces of Tzeentch managed to completely wipe out the sequitors, a band of of Freeguild Halberdiers engaged the Tzaangor horde only to be ripped to shreds. The last one of them felling one goat-beast out of spite before falling to the swords and beaks of the remaining 14 beastly mutants. He shall be remembered. The massive accumulation of arcane energies that resulted from the constant barrage of spells ripped open a hole in reality through which a Lord of Change stepped through.

The handful of elite cavalry the forces of Order still had intact mustered for a final, desperate counter charge into the braying Tzeentchian horde and the massive avian demon that has spawned from the aether. The lord of change was banished back to the Realm of Chaos by the Frostlord who has up to this point amassed an impressive tally of kills, but ultimately has fallen to the magics of the Arcanites in return.

 As the light of Hyish was replaced by the shadow of Ulgu in the sky, among the scattered and broken remains of 5 other combatants, the forces of Tzeentch effortlessly found the tomb and instead of looting it or its treasures - have merely left it there...seemingly unguarded as bait for future greedy expeditions of treasure hunters. Such expeditions often had mages to deal with the magical seals of the tombs, and any conflict around the tomb would weaken the veil of reality more and more. This had been the plan all along, to rip open the fabric of reality bit by bit.

Tales of the massacre in the Chamonite Wastelands quickly traveled from realm to realm. As the story passed on from one listener to another it was, as all stories are, exaggerated - and from these exaggerations the Wastelands gained the name "Plain of Iron Tears". The metal rains of Chamon being attributed to the suffering of the souls crushed by the pawns of the dark gods  there. Travel through enough inns among the realms and you may hear a version of this cautionary tale yourself!

Flavoured Battle Report Ep. 5 - Carnage in the Gallatean Wastes

Dust and debris kicked up as a strong wind blew over the wastelands of Gallateus LXI, obscuring the already poor visibility offered by its small red sun. At the edge of what was once maybe a lookout point for an Adeptus Mechanicus geological crew stood a small building, half-covered by the dust and filth of this barren world, as well as 3 dried-out thickets. An unusual site to be sure, an imperial remembrancer would write it off as perhaps some arcaheotech relic the Admech were investigating that allowed life to exist once in this place, this being their only explanation for the dried-out husks around it.

As the wind picked up more and more speed the air hummed and crackled around the thickets and tall, lithe humanoids came into shape as if from thin air. What followed was a host of 15 constructs made of alien material. The party was led by a number of robed individuals who, as the grav-tank bearing excavating equipment unloaded and shimmered out of sight, swiftly gave orders to the men and women to set up a perimeter and proceed to hastily dig for something.

-"Why now Elandrin? The spirit stone of Kaithe Llachanri has been lost for a couple thousand years. Why set out to recover it now?" Asked one of the robed figures in a calm, echoing voice.
- "The aftermath of the Brittle Coma has left our seer council depleted Yloen, the stone could be just the catalyst we need to boost the initiates on the Witch-path enough so that we can replenish before the Rhana-Dhandra. More and more of us are seeing portents and omens, ones that no seer can manipulate. The ruinous powers think they have checked us with this plague, we need to be prepared to show otherwise."
-"And you chose this moment because it predates the red-dreams? You think to recover the stone before the followers of the ruinous powers make their move on this world? They are already gathering in orbit, though not far behind them is another mon'keigh fleet."
 -"Precisely - and if I have read the skeins of fate correctly then calling in an old favor will be the key turning point."

The orange-armored aeldari did not have to dig for long before they heard the roar of engines. Troop landers, drop pods, and rhinos quickly appeared on both sides. The horizon turned red with the mass of armored bodies. On one side organized and disciplined, on the other war-dogs waiting to be loosed from some invisible chain, howling for blood.

-"Children of The Fallen Suns! Gather together! Form a defensive perimeter around the shrine of the Ancients! May Asuryan guide our shots today, for it will be a day of reckoning! Bonesinger Toruviel, stand at the ready, hold our wraithwall steady! Keep the webway line open, everyone on the path of Isha be prepared for emergency recovery and evac protocol. We take the stone and fall back. Let the mon'keigh tear eachother apart."

A new grav-tank bearing aspect warriors materialized and set up to guard the rear flank of the Lugganath wraith-host.

On the right flank the barbarous world eaters were led by a fearsome demon prince named Azkor Axefist, with a motley crew of underlings with a vicious taste for blood. The champion Orekh Skullfiend and the frenzied Dark Apostle spearhead the assault against the Aeldari with a large number of marines, while Lord Larsakh Rhugor attempts to maintain a semblance of tactics on the central line. 
  

Mirroring the World Eater's deployment was the Blood Angels 2nd company, led by Captain Donatos Aphael and Chief Librarian Mephiston himself. The chapter ancients have been deployed conservatively behind the marines, who were already lining their sights on the Wraithguards
.

-"The red dreams spoke true. We have prepared for this moment. Do not let them have the first salvo! Loose Shurikens!" ordered Elandrin to his small host. As the words barely escaped his lips the wraithguards lurched into motion, moving towards the blood angels. The Wraithblades on the World Eater flank braced for Impact, as a reckless charge would endanger their position. The guardian excavation teams were ordered to locate and retrieve the spirit stone.

Despite the vast psychic mastery of the aeldari, a crucial spell to further harden the wraithblades has been snatched from the warp by Mephiston, an action that would have as a consequence the assistance of the fallen space marines. But that was not all the misfortune that begat the Lugganath host. Be it divine intervention from the ruinous powers or a fluke in the warp, the D-cannons and D-Scythes of the Wraithguards misfired, firing wide and the destructive effect of the distortion not manifesting. The echo of the blast wounded a couple of marines and a dreadnought. The shuriken-wielding infantry fared little better as the red dust storm was still in full effect. Khorne willed blood to be shed in personal combat, and his due would not be denied by alien trickery.

 With a bellow the mighty demon prince leaped into combat, barrelling towards the warlock Virnael who was downed by his warp-bolter. As the wraithblades could not protect against a flying opponent, the Demon Prince Azkor decided to take the head of the aeldari leadership, shredding Farseer Yloen to the point that the healers could barely retrieve her Soulstone. His mighty rampage continued into the other seers but High Seer Elandrin and the Spiritseer Arviel held their ground. The situation was grim for the troops as well. In such close quarters the much larger, frenzied marines had a distinct advantage. And without any place to fall back the red butchers quickly reveled in the bloodbath. The Dark Apostle was displeased to bash his Crozius against bloodless constructs, but the wraithguard blunted as much of the World Eater charge as they could, 3 of their number falling to the relentless onslaught.

The Blood Angel 2nd company was determined to eradicate the Xenos threat in front of them, due to the dust storm they could only hear the sounds of combat from the other side of the wind wall, not knowing that their traitorous brethren were already engaging on the other side. The 2nd guardian excavation team was eradicated, but thankfully the Relic Spiritstone, a personal interest of the Lord of Death himself has already been gleamed by the now-dead, first excavation team. He could sense its presence, but knew he had to go through a demon prince first to get to it. After the wraithguard on the Blood Angel flank suffered heavy casualties, Mephiston leapt over them on Crimson wings, determined to clear the field of the demon and the remaining warp-tainted seers.

 The duel was a veritable clash of the titans. Mephiston skewered Azkor Axefist in the chest with his sword, but the eponymous axe-fist returned the favor as a parting blow and hurled the Chief Librarian on his last gasp, sword extended towards the still engaged Farseer. This was not the seer's moment of demise as his runesuit kept him on his feat as both colossal fighters disengaged. Mephiston was emergency-teleported aboard their battle-barge in orbit, and Azkor, attempting to find a new target from the air was pulled back into the warp screaming by a clawed hand.

Elandrin quickly ordered his wraiths, avengers and wave serpent back into a defensible position around the dried-out thicket. Their concealed webway gate to make a stand. And no sooner had they regrouped that his ace in this losing hand appeared. The Harlequins of the Midnight Sorrow leaped out from the labyrinth dimension and fell upon the Blood Angels back flank. They brought with them a group of exodite archers, sensing that the purity of this maiden world was being disturbed. The world spirit's restorative powers were slowly being awakened by the amount of aeldari blood spilled around the shrine.

-"Excellent. Now that you're here we can clear this area and make a push for the artifact." was the message Elandrin transmitted to the Shadowseer, he was weakened from his wounds,only held up by his witchstaff.
-"You mean to leave son of dying light, but your role here is beyond the Spiritstone, the mon'keigh have ignored it so far but the key to this battle is the Shrine to the Ancients. It must not fall under any circumstances. The great game is being played out as we speak, and we must be the rock on which the ruinous powers' wheel breaks."
Elandrin sighed and steadied himself, knowing all too well that defying a servant of the Laughing God, especially one bringing their salvation is to invite ruin. A new defensive perimeter was set up behind the webway and from here the increasingly savage mon'keigh would be driven back with sword and sorcery.

As the dust storm settled the rest of the world eater horde came into view to the horror of both imperial and xeno combatants. A tide of sharp weapons wielded by beings who are more akin to a walking abattoir than people.

The Blood Angels 2nd company was now the main focus of both the armies as they were pincered between the flanking harlequins, the horde up ahead and the newly set up defensive position near the southern webway. They fought back hard, but their dreadnoughts were collapsing one by one. For every traitor slain, at least a couple Angels went to meet their Primarch. The battle turned into a grinding battle of attrition, but the Shadowseer smiled crookedly under his mask as the Shrine was completely ignored during the massacre.

  

The World Eaters' initial assault point now only had a remnant of units whipped by Orekh and the Apostle. The obstinate wraithguards were finally eliminated however - the troupe master of the Midnight Sorrow as well as a Solitaire engaged them from behind to eradicate their presence on what was now supposed to be newly safe ground, away from the main battle on the new front. But it would not be like that for long as the Blood Angel Assault marines descended on the embattled harlequins who have suffered wounds from their clash with the followers of Khorne.

The backline assault of the Blood Angels reduced the forces of the Aeldari to but 2 wandering wraith constructs and the dramatis personae fighting tooth and nail for the protection of a shrine which up to this point has been unharmed, as all the fighting forces were becoming dangerously depleted.

...............................................................................................................................................................

....then the tides of fate took a turn for the most dire. The Chaos Lord Larsakh Rhugor has used the mayhem caused by his warriors to retrieve the spirit stone of Kaithe Llachanri...and promptly offered it up to the Blood God as sacrifice, destroying the stone in the process, and the potent psychic spirit inside it. This heinous act has earned him an immediate boon, but unlike his brothers he decided not to test his newly gained blessing on the bitterly embattled Angels and Harlequins. Instead he started sprinting towards his original central deployment, while ordering his remaining men who were not engaged to proceed to pillage the shrine of the Ancients.

They have done sizeable damage to the shrine, but one statue in particular, the statue of the Trickster God Cegorach was proving increasingly difficult to destroy with every new attempt at its integrity. Melta shots were fired, power fists have been smahed into it, even the unbound physical savagery of the World Eaters could not crumble it. As the Harlequins rushed to defend the Shrine, another catastrophe occurred. The remainder of the Blood Angels' 2nd company fell to the black rage and in their unbound frenzy started shooting the first and largest things in view.

With the Chaos marines immediately attacking the shrine vanquished, the trio of harlequins called for a ceasefire, but the only answer they received in the vox was gurgled screams from the Imperial comms and taunts to come claim Lord Larsakh's head from the conniving Khornate himself. The head of the desecrator soon lay at the feet of the Troupe master, chopped by the Storied Sword, but caught in what seemed like a victory rush and the chain of orders stopping on the Aeldari side,  2 chaos marines made a new attempt on the shrine. Cegorach, possibly pleased by the grand spectacle put on by his perfomers, maintained his blessings on the shrine.

What seemed like sweet victory turned into bitter defeat however as a stray lascannon shot from the last Blood Angel dreadnought, now caught in the black rage penetrated the shrine and broke the statue of the Trickster. The enchanted wraithbone barely hit the ground as the warp engulfed the shrine and a mighty Greater Demon of Khorne emerged from the warp portal that swallowed the remains of the shrine, immediately draining the blood of the dead around him.

The aeldari immediately retreated with all due haste to their webway portals and collapsed this tunnel, knowing full well that this manifestation means that the world spirit has been corrupted, devoured and the world itself will now become a daemon-world, a staging point for the Khornate hordes.

The black-raged Blood Angels knew no fear and attempted to engage the demon in a last attempt to purge this battlefield...however Khorne willed blood...and was not denied.

In the end, no amount of alien trickery or human courage could stand in front of the corrupting force of Chaos, a decisive, brutal victory achieved in no small part to Lord Larsakh Rhugor, a name surely to be howled again by the viscous servants of Khorne in remembrance of this triumph.