Saturday, 29 December 2018

The Bad Moon Rises

Arthyr sat cross legged in his ornate wooden throne, slowly sharpening the Modryn Blade as he reflected on the news of his brothers death. The vile children of Chaos would pay dearly for taking the life of so many of his kin. His focus was suddenly broken as Rayvon appeared in the shadows in the corner of the hall.
"Arthyr, I am sorry for your loss," Rayvon said, stepping from the shadow and placing a hand over his heart, "Aias was a brave and skilled Aelf, and though his body is lost to us, know that he is still here with us."
"Aye, I know. Thank you my mentor." Replied Arthyr.
Rayvon walked up to Arthyr and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes. "Arthyr, I have more dire news. My mistwalkers have returned with news from the Realm of Beasts, Shadow and here in Ghyran, an unusual moon has been seen, strange fungoid growths covering villages and settlements as well as Greenskins too numerous to be counted roving and raiding."
Arthyr looked back into Rayvon's eyes, and smile creeping across his face. "Greenskins my old friend?' He chuckled. "You are worried? Do not be, we can easily hunt down a few rowdy grots!"
Rayvon shook his head, "Arthyr, this is no mere greenskin warband. They are different, driven and focussed. One of my mistwalkers has been observing a large force crashing through our domain, we might be able to halt them and discover what is driving them."
"Kias!" Arthyr called to his guard, "Send word to Braern, we hunt greenskin tonight!"

The night was brighter than usual, a strange pale green light bathed everything giving the world around the Sentinels of Spiteshade Vale an even more otherworldly appearance. Arthyr strode through the hidden forest paths with Dayga and Braern nearby, while the rest of the warband followed silently behind them. Dayga pointed his staff at the moon, something was wrong with it, but what they couldn't quite tell. "I feel an odd magic in the air, something dank and wet." Dayga whispered, more to himself than to those around him.
Braern knelt to study the tracks and mess they had been following left behind by the Greenskins. He looked up to Arthyr and Dayga, "They picked up their pace here, after stopping for several minutes. We are not far from them."
Arthyr nodded and reached down to his loyal spite, Tui, fluttering around his knees. "Tui, go see what we hunt, and come straight back." Tui darted off through the forest canopy, leaving a glittering trail of blue dust in the wind.

A rocky valley below caught Tui's attention, there in the middle of the valley stood a unusual shrine, a shrine with rough carvings of a half moon bedecking them, and there half hidden on the edges of the valley a horde of Greenskins. Tui dove and darted back to where the Sentinels of Spiteshade Vale awaited its return. Tui sped through the forest with all the sped it could manage and almost slammed into Arthyr as it burst through the undergrowth to where Arthyr, Braern and Dayga crouched. "Tell me my wee friend, what did you see?" Arthyr asked Tui. The reply was a pattern of clicks, giggles and chirps, but Arthyr understood every word. "Dayga, the Greenskins are approaching an old shrine to a moon, no, the Bad Moon." Arthyr translated.
"We must move my Prince! The Greenskins must not be allowed to capture this shrine!" Warned Dayga. Arthyr stood and raised the Modryn blade above his head, the Sentinels of Spiteshade Vale advanced towards the valley.
The Sentinels formed up their battleline, Eternal Guards forming a shield wall, while they Glade Guard and Rangers of the Watch formed up behind them, ready to send volleys of arrow into the greenskins. The Wildwood Rangers and the Wild Riders of Kurnous set up in the western flank.

Across the valley the Greenskins formed their own battleline, Grots too numerous to count formed up in the middle of their force while on the western flank a colossal spider surrounded by smaller spiders ridden by savage looking Grots advanced towards the Aelves, while at the head the army two bright red mangler squigs darted forwards towards the Eternal Guard. 

The squigs smashed into the shield wall of the Eternal Guard, the Aelves were knocked back, slammed to the ground, torn and swallowed by the monstrous beasts. The Eternal Guard that survived the impact flooded back in and sent spears stabbing out at the red ball shaped beasts, but no matter how true their spears stabbed out they couldn't harm them. Arthyr charged forward, he sprang at the nearest squig, the Modryn Blade speared through the beasts flank. He pulled it out swiftly and swung again, the beast toppled over. He quickly spun around and sent the blade sailing into the second beasts eye, it bellowed in pain, shaking both the Modryn Blade and its rider from its hide, before it pounced on Arthyr, smashing him down and then biting down. Arthyr's world went dark.

The Grots flooded across the valley, too many for the Sentinels to kill altogether. Dayga saw Arthyr fall before the squig and then observed a mysterious green phoenix appear above them and flew down, tearing the squig to pieces before picking up Arthyr and heading back towards Spiteshade Vale. Dayga slammed his ancient staff into the ground, drawing on the magic of Ghyran, he then drew a glowing rune on his arm, sending a blast of green lightning out into the sky above. The Sentinels knew this was the signal to retreat and they carefully fought their way back out of the valley, while the Eternal Guard and Wild Riders of Kurnous sold their lives to secure the survival of their kin.

"Run little Aelves, run! Ya been beated by Glasznik! Da Bad Moon boss!" Shrieked the leader of the Grots. "Da Bad Moon comes, and me is 'ere!" 

Monday, 24 September 2018

The Labyrinth closed...

The Labyrinth
Braern looked on in anguish. The heat emitting from the ground here in Aqshy was almost unbearable, combined that with the bestial noises coming from the filthy hordes of Beastmen made it difficult to concentrate.
Ahead of him a dozen beastmen were charging towards him and his brave waywatchers; green fletched arrows shot out in a steady stream, but there were too few and the beatsmen too close. Over on the western flank his brother Aias made a defiant last stand against the leader of the beastmen, he swung his bladed spear faster than seemed possible and slammed it into the chest of the beastlord, the monster grunted, grabbed the weapon and threw it aside as he swung his own axe. The foul rusted blade landed with a wet crunch as it hit the side of Aias’s head. The Aelf went limp and collapsed, shield clattering to the ground, Braern’s world went sideways. His closest brother lay there in the scorching clay, his life-blood flowing from the grievous wound in his head. The beastlord placed a hoof upon Aias’s chest and let out a roar of victory.
Braern pulled his hood back, and let loose a single golden arrow into the sky. It exploded in a cloud of green, blue and red. The Wanderers knew what this meant, they would stop at nothing to stop the beasts of Chaos from reaching the portal while it was open. They all prepared to sell their lives to protect Ghyran, bows and blades were readied, prayers and promises were made. The final stand of the Wolves of Ghyran was at hand…

The doors to Arthyr’s hall crashed open, a breeze gushed in bringing with it the smell of burnt wood and flesh. There in the doorway was Braern, his cloak burnt and torn, his bow nowhere to be seen. He carried the prone form of Mandia Nightlock, he took a step forward and stumbled and would have fallen if it had not been for one of the Eternal Guard who dashed forward and helped him forward. Arthyr leapt from his throne and dashed to Braern; “Brother what happened!?”
“We held them back from the portal, but, but Aias…” Braern tripped over his words as he tried to make sense of what he needed to say. “Aias has fallen…”
Arthyr’s head dropped, the weight of loss suddenly crushing him. How many more needed to perish before their King and Queen would accept them back? He focussed, and tried to get his thoughts together. “Kias, take Mandia to old Dayga. He will be able to heal her wounds.” He called to the Eternal Guard who had assisted Braern.
He turned and put Braern’s arms over him and helped him into his chambers. “My brother, I am sorry I was not there… I will avenge Aias, the beasts will pay and we will earn our place back with our King and Queen.” Arthyr said through gritted teeth and wet eyes. “I swear by our ancestors and Kurnous.”

Tuesday, 11 September 2018

The Labyrinth of Eternity

The Wolves of Spiteshade

The forest sped past, spites grinning and leering at her from the foliage as she urged her steed onwards. Her vision had been clear, the Labyrinth was open and it’s vaults ready for the picking. Mandia had rushed to Arthyr and informed him of her vision, where Arthyr told her to seek out his brothers Aias and Braern.

Mandia knew they were out on the fringes of their domain hunting down scattered bands of Nurgle, and this is where she would head. Ahead the forest started to get darker, the spites and other creatures of the forest were more withdrawn. She could feel the taint of Nurgle as it gently infiltrated and infected the weak and broken. Deeper and deeper into this part of this forest she cautiously went, she could now sense the two Stornos brothers and their warband. Here and there she could see a fallen Chaos warrior, pierced with green fletched arrows of Spiteshade Vale. Ahead she heard the distinct sounds of battle, she dismounted swiftly from her steed and silently crept towards the sounds of battle. There, amongst some ancient Waystones she made out the swift shadows of Wildwood Rangers and Wardancers slicing and dancing around a group of beleaguered Nurgle daemons. She leant down and slid her fingers into the soil at her feet, feeling the energy and power within Ghyran. She focussed and let her song echoe out across the grove, the Wanderers attack doubled in pace while the daemons struggled and tried to locate the source of the song. Too late though, as her song increased, vines and roots burst  from the ground beneath the Nurgle daemons, surrounding them in a wall of greenery before being crushed and torn apart.

Aias stepped over the corpse of the Nurgle champion who had led this band, pulling his spear from its head and looking across the grove to where Mandia still crouched as she finished her song. He stalked forwards towards her, wary of any foes that might still draw breath. As Aias reached her, he bowed his head slightly. “What brings you all the way out here my friend?” He asked.
“I have seen the Labyrinth opened, and foul forces opening its secrets. Arthyr has requested we leave at once to hunt down as many foes as possible and halt the enemies of Life.” Mandia replied quietly.

Aias nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. He pulled his whistle from its pouch and let go a crisp note. Within moments his warband gathered behind him, the youngest of the Stornos brothers Braern stalking quietly around the edges of the group.
“My brothers and sisters, we are set to a new hunt in lands outside our realm. The Labyrinth of Eternity has opened and Prince Arthyr has requested we, the Wolves of Spiteshade, hunt down and slay the enemies of Ghyran. Check your bows, sharpen your blades and make your offerings to Kurnous.” Aias announced to his warriors.

That evening they slipped through the secret paths and into the realm of Shyish. The hunt and the tale of Aias and Braern Stornos begins…

Friday, 13 April 2018

Hunting the Dead

Aranion's body hit the ground hard, rolling across the hard packed ground, a small cloud of dust erupting where he landed. Standing above him was Lord Barrowmire, seated upon his fearsome zombie dragon. The dragon was covered in white fletched arrows, it had thrown Aranion into the air without effort, while the Wanderers poured a storm of arrows into the monster.

The Mithrin brothers, Seral and Kiro had watched in disbelief as Aranion had charged across the dusty terrain in an attemplt to slay Barrowmire resulting in him getting thrown around like a rag doll. Before Barrowmire's dragon could feed upon Aranion, they both took aim and sent a flurry of magically blessed arrows into both Barrowmire and his accursed dragon. The dragon shuddered and collapsed, while Barrowmire himself vanished in a cloud a black and red mist.

Across the battle field Ceryn had led his brave glade guard through the hidden paths to attack the undead army's flank. They were hunting two monstrous undead contructs, as they left the hidden path the caught site of their prey hiding behind a ruined crypt. Unleashing a devestating salvo, one of the beasts lost cohesion and collapsed into a pile of bones and dust. The second beast let lose a bestial scream, it's hide covered in Aelven arrows.

The scream let out by the beast was answered... Ceryn turned to look behind him and his warriors as a feeling of primal fear flared up in his chest. A low guttural growl sounded from behind them, while Manfred looked down and quietly chuckled. Before the Wanderers could turn and fire Manfred and his mount bounded across the ground between the Wanderers and himself. He and his mount tore into the Wanderers, quickly slaying all the Aelves except for their champion Ceryn.

Ceryn, pulled his sword free and slashed at Manfred. His blows rung hollow on the flanks of Manfred's mount, before the beast Ceryn had been hunting landed behind him and cleaved him in two, his sword falling to the dirt with a dull clunk.

Manfred laughed as he tore through the pitiful Aelves who stood before him, lifting one before him and sinking his fangs into the mortals soft flesh and drinking his life blood. It was so clean and full of life, the warm fluid dripped down his chin and onto his ancient armour. His devious smile quickly changed to a grimace as an arrow of pure life magic thudded into his shoulder. Turning to face this new threat, he could see more hooded Aelves stepping through a strange dark green mist, they had glowing bows trained upon him, more damned life magic he thought.

Lythal led his rangers of the watch against Manfred, they would hunt him down and slay him, he would pay for the lives he had taken. Lythal and his rangers were supported by the Mithrin brothers and Nimue and her Tree Revenants.

Together they pursued Manfred, encircling and trapping him. Nimue and her Revenants run ahead and caught up to the powerful vampire lord. Their mighty blades hacked in both Manfred and his mount. The mount was hacked to pieces while Manfred suffered many deep and mortal injuries, but he used the dark magic at his command to vanish in the melee before Nimue could step in and take his head.

Arthyr paced the ruined crypts with Mandia and Nimue. The undead seemed to have either fled or collapse into broken heaps after Manfred vanished. They had managed to cleanse this area, but at a heavy price. Aranion was badly wounded and clung to life, whereas Arthyr's cousin Ceryn had been slain along with all his warriors.

The forces of death and destruction were being hunted all across the Flame Scar plateau. Arthyr's Wanderers and Slazenger's Stormcast effectively pushing into the occupied lands. Arthyr knew to give Slazenger a wide birth and so decided they would next try to hunt more foul undead...

Monday, 2 April 2018

Blood & Fog

The fog was thick and Mandia choked on the thick scent of blood and fear. All around her she could hear her friends screaming in rage as they attacked. The rain beat down through the fog creating a mire of blood, mud and broken bodies. Her head was pounding, why were they attacking and being attacked by Stormcast? She tried to clear her head, all around her she could see Aelves injured and bleeding. 

Arthyr swung his blade at the apparition in front of him, normally the Modryn blade felt weightless in his hands, but today it felt like he was swinging a tree. The apparition in front of him had put down too many of his Aelves and he had to avenge them. He felt as if he’d been fighting in this fog and rain for days, but could it have been that long? Surely not…

From atop the ruins Lord Slazenger looked down and across the littered battlefield. The fog was still thick and the rain was not easing, whoever they fought were quick and shifted with the shadows. Frustrated he led his mount forward, hunting down these wraiths.

Kurnous, hear my cry! Let your call cry out and clear this cursed and bloodthirsty fog!” cried Mandia Nightlock as she held tight her small rune stone dedicated to the god of the hunt. A hound sounded from far away, booming and getting louder. Her head cleared and she could think clearly, the fog started to clear. What she saw around her was devastating, Aelves fighting for their lives against Stormcast Eternals. But as the horn boomed again, she could see all the combatants dropping their weapons in confusion. Stormcast Eternals and Aelf alike shook their heads to clear the last of the fog they had so consumed them. 
She looked around to find Arthyr dragging the Modryn blade behind him, devastated by the loss of so many of his Aelves. In the middle of the field atop his draconian steed sat Lord Slazenger, his face now un-helmed was a picture of confusion and disappointment.

Arthyr looked around the field of battle, heartbroken at the loss of so many Aelves. He made his way to the leader of the army they had been engaged with unwittingly. “Lord Slazenger, it seems we have been fooled and have both now suffered for it.” Slazenger made no reply, he nodded his head slowly and turned his mount away from Arthyr, and letting his mount give out a low and sonorous cry. The StormcastEternals all started to form up and depart the scene of devastation, they had no need to collect their dead as they were already in Azyheim and the wounded gathered themselves under their own prodigious strength to follow Slazenger away.

With the dead at rest, the wounded and unwounded made their way to the shrouded portal opened by MandiaArthyr and Rhavon stood back to ensure all made it through the portal, Arthyr then turned to Rhavon, “We must find who is responsible for this, they will be punished, our fallen will be avenged. I swear to Lilleath and Kurnous.”

Wednesday, 7 March 2018

The Hunter

The scorched ground was a painful experience for Arthyr and his Wanderers to witness. This was a blatant attack on Life and they felt obliged to heal and revive the damaged land they had explored so far in the Realm of Fire. This Scorched Forest would be their bastion, and they would slay all who meant it harm.

Arthyr stood beneath a charred and broken tree, ancient symbols were carved into its trunk and still faintly glowed white with Life. Next to him his pet and friend Tui darted back and forth trying to catch the small flame beetles that were so common in this part of the forest. Mandia Nightlock sat at the base of the tree, her green hair swirling in an unseen vortex as usual. Arthyr and Mandia were discussing the vision of Orion they had both witnessed and discussed what it might mean.

They had both barely managed to walk away from an ambush by two separate Grot clans. In the midst of the battle an Avatar of the Hunt had appeared and fought bravely alongside the Wanderers, however he was only a small portion of the power Orion held and was eventually slain by the Greenskins. Arthyr had been badly injured and now focussed on healing and planning with Mandia while his sister Lyloth patrolled with the rangers.

Initially they had both believed the vision had been a sign that Orion would return to them, however, when the Avatar had been slain they worried this was an ill omen. As they discussed their thoughts, the withered and broken tree suddenly shuddered, the ancient runes which had only faintly been glowing earlier flared to life, bright blue and green light bursting forth from the runes. As the tree shook the same blue and green light appeared through a rent in the dry and parched earth directly in front of them and shot away drawing a straight line of blazing light through the ground. Arthyr and Mandia looked at each other, one word escaped from their lips at the same time: “Ley-line!”

Lyloth strode through the ruined woods of the forest, ahead she could see the top of an ancient Aelven waystone, the bright white stonework shone in the light. Her rangers had returned and confirmed that a force of Grots were attempting to pull down the waystones and set up some form of filthy fortification. She would not stand for this, she would kill them all and secure the ancient site. She directed her force to spread out and surround the Grots. As Lyloth turned to head towards her position she was confronted by a stranger, an Aelf, not of her kin. He took a knee in old formal traditions and introduced himself. “Princess Lyloth, I am Aranion. I have been tracking the Sentinels of Tal Stornos for weeks and wish to join your ranks.”

His formality and unusual accent through Lyloth off, the Sentinels of Tal Stornos were not known for their adherence to high born traditions. They grew up in the forests and wilderness, being beneath the forest canopy was where they were comfortable, not under some constructed building. She looked him up and down, he was well armed and equipped, bow and shield hung over his shoulder while an ancient looking sword hung from his belt. His skin was tanned by the sun, whereas the Aelves of her kin had ethereal green skin from their close proximity to the realm of Life and the secret magical vortex at the heart of Spiteshade Vale.

“Stand up Aelf! No-one calls me Princess apart from my Father, and he left the realm of the living long ago.” Replied Lyloth. “You look as if you can handle yourself in a fight, but can you hunt and live through a battle? I guess we will see. Follow my sisters and support them, they should keep you safe.” She turned away and headed to her position before arrows rained down on the Grots catching them unaware.

The battle was fast and bloody, the Grots had their pet gargant and his pet squigoth with them both reaping a high toll on the Wanderers before being brought down. The Grot chief slipped away in the carnage with a large force of Grots. As the Wanderers secured the waystones a line of brilliant blue and green light flared to life across the cracks and runes of the waystones, the trees around the area started to sway as if caught in a gale. Lyloth looked around, taking in the sight, as the trees swayed she could see patches of colour breaking through the burnt and cracked bark. Life was returning, these trees were fighting back the damage caused years before. Aranion approached Lyloth; “Princess, it seems we might be witnessing a new season.” He smiled, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Monday, 29 January 2018

The Sleeping King Awakes...

The night sky above Spiteshade Vale was clear, thousands of bright blue stars flickered in the heavens. Green, blue, red and pink lowing spites flittered amongst the leaves and branches of the Ghyfir trees. Within the ancient Aelf tower Mandia Nightlock suddenly bolted upright from her dreams, her head still rang with the sound of the warhorn, Orion?!

She cleared her head and focused on what she had seen, Arthyr and his Wanderers had made it to the Realm of Fire. They had appeared in the Charred Forest and claimed the area around the Dragon gate, setting to work brining life magic to the devastated vegetation. She saw Arthyr and her sisters approach a giant charred oak and start the process of healing. Bright green blossoms burst across the branches of the tree, swirling white runes flared to life around the mighty trunk.

The ground beneath their feet trembled, the white flaring lines of the runes speared into the earth and suddenly shot out across the ruined ground and into the distance. Then a horn blared, the sound came from everywhere, her hair stood on end, her eyes widening, her desire to run and hunt became hard to ignore... Then she had awoken, along with a power that had long been thought lost...

Monday, 22 January 2018

The Dragon Gate

Arthyr and his allies appeared out of the mist and into another part of the forested realm of the Great Green Torc, this was where they would find the ancient Dragon gate which connected this part of Ghyran with the realm of fire. Arthyr sent the Mithrin brothers, Kiro and Seral, to scout the forest ahead. Arthyr and his allies knew there were still greenskin in these parts and would have to fight through them to reach the gate.

Kiro and Seral ran through the forest canopy , feet deftly finding purchase on the branches and trunks of trees. Kiro leapt across a gap twice his height, catching a branch with his free hand and swinging himself up onto the next tree. Seral clambered further up the tree swung his rope out and across to the tree that Kiro had landed in. The two brothers had grown up amidst the forests outside of Spiteshade Vale and their father had told them stories of how their ancestors had watched over the Night Glades of the ancient realm of Modryn, unseen within the forest canopy.
Suddenly both brothers stopped, on the air they could smell something off, something that didn't belong in Ghyran... Greenskin.. They stalked quietly around the Greenskin camp, taking their time to analyse the enemy.
"Grots... lots of Grots..." Whispered Kiro.
"And they've brought spiders and squigs along..." Quietly chuckled Seral. Seral's swirling tattoos started to glow all over his body, as he started to prepare for the fight. Kiro knew this was the sign that things were about to get fun, he pulled his hood up and drew his long bow.
"I guess you should signal to Arthyr then brother?" Whispered Seral to Kiro with a grin.
With that, a fiery green arrow launched from Kiro's bow signalling the other Wanderers hiding in wait further back in the forest.

Arthyr sat perched at the base of a mighty Ghyfir tree waiting for the signal from the Mithrin brothers, there, a fiery green arrow arced over the trees and landed inches from Arthyr's head. He turned to his warriors, "Our quarry has been found, time to slay them and reclaim the dragon gate."

As the Wanderers of Spiteshade Vale advanced thunder crashed overhead, as seven spears of lightning smashed into the earth ahead of the Wanderers... Uhtred and his Prosecutors surged forward to attack and stem the counter-attack from the Greenskin.

The spider mounted Grots slammed into the Stormcasts as they held the line allowing the Wanderers to slip in flanking positions before sending a storm of arrows into the Greenskin ranks.

Aertas's rangers surged forward to hunt down a giant squig beast. They quickly ran through the wooded terrain and tore into the beasts flanks, hacking massive swathes from its flesh. In no time at all the beast had been brought down.

Meanwhile, Uhtred and his Stormcast were not faring well. The spiders had sent several Prosecutors back to Azyrheim leaving only Uhtred and his two champions. Arthyr knew that he could not make it to save his friend and ally, and if he tried Uhtred's sacrifice would be in vain. Arthyr slipped back into the shadow paths and headed closer to the Dragon Gate. When he re-appeared, Uhtred was gone along with his last Prosecutors. Arthyr knew that he must claim this gate back and continue through to the Flamescar Plateau.

The Wanderers continued to hunt down the scattered Greenskin, stalking them through the forest. The Greenskin were in disarray, every time they tried to counter attack the Wanderers would vanish in the mists only to reappear elsewhere in the forest. Arthyr, made the most of the confusion and headed to the gate, slaying any straggling Greenskin which crossed his path.

As he reached the gate, a mist formed around its base and a horned silhouette appeared. Arthyr prepared to battle, drawing the Modryn Blade from his back and carving a line around him in the soil. "Know that you come to your death, by the scion of Tal Stornos!" Arthyr called into the mist.
A familiar chuckle danced through the mist, this was no enemy! "Rhavon! What... How? Where did you come from?" Laughed Arthyr. 
"Ah, Princeling. So serious. I have come back to guide you through the Dragon Gate. I also want to visit the Flamescar Plateau, it's been to long." Rhavon chuckled, his voice ancient beyond count.

Tuesday, 2 January 2018

The Call to War

The rain had ceased it downpour for the moment, scattered around Arthyr and his warband were the remains of a dozen squigs and at least as many Grots. Arthyr looked around to get an idea of the damage sustained to his brave Aelves; most were injured and a couple were lying with their life blood mingling in the mud and grime. He had felt their spirits pass from this mortal realm and said a quiet prayer to Kurnous.

Before he could finish his prayer and contemplate their losses, the sound of angelic wings broke through the sound of distant thunder. Uhtred landed heavily splashing mud across Arthyr's soaked cloak. The two old friends, soaked and tired, embraced each others hands in the warriors grip and nodded a welcome.

"Arthyr, war approaches. The Flamescar Plateau is being invaded by the forces of Chaos, Death and Destruction. We cannot let the treasures and knowledge of the ancient Agloraxi fall into their hands. Our scryers at Spiteshade have also seen us battling together again, hunting and slaying the minions of Chaos."

The message delivered by Uhtred to Arthyr was not easy for him to hear. His friend and ally needed his help, but he had yet to reach the Tower of the Eternal Wood. He knew that if he were to abandon his quest now the Tower would likely be overrun by greenskin.

"I must take a moment to meditate on this news old friend." Arthyr replied.

Arthyr stalked across the clearing and sat cross legged under the closest tree, closed his eyes and focused on the magical vortex under Spiteshade. There his mind met with his chief spellsinger - Mandia Nightlock. There she confirmed the news and the importance of leaving his quest and mustering his forces to leave for the realm of fire.

"Uhtred Greenwing, we leave to hunt!" Arthyr called as he rose.

The rain started again, shrouding the Sentinels of Spiteshade as they vanished into a swirling mist, leaving the Tower of the Eternal Wood to the greenskins for now...

The Modryn Return

Arlos Darkleaf’s Tree-like features cracked with what might have resembled a smile, “So you cling to your old life and old name?Good, good...