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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 Ahead the forest started to get darker, the spites and other creatures of the forest were more withdrawn.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 stee…

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 un…

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…

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…

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 dist…

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 fore…

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 …