|If you live, you'll live to just fight again.|
War, gruesome and bloody has swept through the east of the old world.
The Tsarina of Kislev had been receiving reports of small chaos war bands moving throughout Northern and Eastern Kislev. She sent an emissary to the Empire, warning of their presence, yet it was too late.
These bands of warriors from the far north were no scattered war bands. It was a much larger force, moving in small groups to avoid detection. In a tide of blood, they swept through the villages and towns between the mountains and Kislev.
Foul and corrupted beasts came from the forests, adding their braying prayers to the dark gods with those of the North men. In the valleys at the feet of the mountains, the Dark fey guarded a foul tower of sorcery, sticking from the earth like a foul black thorn.
The Dwarves, the greatest and oldest allies of men, came to the aid of beleaguered Kislev. Yet for all the strength and resilience, they could not drive out the forces of chaos arrayed against them. The Warriors from the North, and their bestial allies drove south along the mountains, slowly beating the Dwarves down. The dark and evil kindred of the fey had sated their taste for blood, and remained in their shadowed valleys, collecting those who were unfortunate enough to still be breathing.
As the hordes drove south, their ranks were once again swelled. Another army of the North men had come, the promise of bloodshed driving them ever onwards towards the battle. Ogres and giants came from the hills to feast on the bodies of men and beast, like carrion birds.
Yet now, a vanguard from an army of the Empire bolstered the ranks of the Dwarves, and fought valiantly. Yet the forces of Chaos still drove south.
As the foul armies of corruption crossed into the Empire, an army of men had assembled to face them. Between the Dwarves, Men, and fighting between the two war bands, the invaders were halted.
Yet they were not done.
The blood-shed had been great, and the powers of their bloody god flowed through them.
"It" called for more. More blood!
Their fowl priests and Shamans brayed and screamed, calling for the army to move to the southeast. Their bloody tide carried them to the foothills of the mountains before. They were heading for Karak Kadar, the destruction of that Dwarven stronghold would be their prize.
This was to be a decisive battle, determining the course of this fast and gruesome war. The High Elves, noble and elegant came to aid the Dwarves and Men. Yet even as the forces of order had their ranks bolstered, so did those of evil and chaos. The vampires, foul creatures and necromancers came from Sylvania, looking to fill their own ranks with corpses, and their veins with fresh blood. And beneath all this, far beneath, there was another sound.
Countless feet scurrying through tunnels.
More reports will be filled as the coming of June 2nd approaches!