Lords of Darkness (WHF CK2-Ish Quest)

Omake: The Dark March

Tomas found himself deep in thought as he rode. His mount was an armored skeletal horse that walked silently. He wore a mixture of robes emblazoned with dark symbols and pale silver armor that had been enchanted. Over it all draped a deep black cloak trimmed with red and more magical protection. Upon his back was a scythe crafted with dark wood and carved symbols like those on his attire. The blade was a dark gray that thrummed with black magic and gleamed in an unnatural way. Woe be to any who met its sharp edge. Around him were a guard of black knights to defend him as needed.

This scene was repeated many times throughout the ranks. Each of the necromancers in the army of the dead had been similarly armed, armored, and protected for this campaign. They were a key component of the army with their lord occupied in their homeland. Their vampiric peers and the dragons had to remain behind to guard Wallachia and avoid unwanted attention. This left tending to the campaign in mortal hands. An outside observer could be forgiven for mistaking them as dark nobility of the undead.

Around these entourages marched the army of the damned itself. The march was silent save for the low thunder of millions of feet against the ground and the clank of armor and weapons. High above the rank and file fluttered great banners with necromantic sigils and the symbol of the emperor of the dead. The silence was deeply unnerving to all outsiders within hearing range. An army of this size would normally be alive with noise whether from idle chatter to shouted orders to the sound of horses. There were none to be found here though. The army of the undead had no need for such things. Their orders were given mentally from the necromancers who led them into battle. Most of the undead lacked the mental capacity for conversation anyway. The necromancers themselves preferred this as their kind were never exactly social creatures.

Tomas was pondering how the march had gone so far and where they were going. Things had gone remarkably well considering why they were even here. The forces of order that had come to Kislev, the miserable frozen waste it was he thought, had kept their distance, but made no hostile moves. They had encountered less chaos cultists than he had expected there to be given the circumstances. The few war bands their army encountered were small and poorly organized. The last part was normal when dealing with the ruinous powers their name said it all right there. Their madness and clashing natures did not lend well to discipline. The former however was unusual as chaos usually compensated for their poor forces with large numbers especially with an event like the blood tide ongoing.

He supposed it was fortunate in a way. A smaller force especially one disorganized like these was easy to dispose of. Often they would break apart when they realized they faced a force far beyond them. They were at their core bullies and cowards who preyed on the helpless and were bound together only in cruel desire and mutual interest. Their courage quickly leaving them in the face of the black tide. Many begged for mercy or tried to flee. Others tried to fight being simply insane, foolhardy, or particularly devoted to the blood god, one could argue they were all the same thing, and charged in a vain attempt at glory. They received none and everyone of them was caught and killed. The rank and file were more than enough to deal with them. The elite undead did not need to bother and the occasional spell was thrown in more to satisfy the occasional sadistic urge or quench boredom rather than necessity in the spellcasters case. Tomas himself had thrown in the odd spell to watch their foes suffer and die. Typically the winds of death or the withering wave depending on his mood at the moment. The results were the same regardless. These easy victories were followed by a quick resurrection to make cannon fodder for the real battle.

Tomas's thoughts then turned to their destination. Their current target was the city of Ungalya, where did they come up with that he thought, which was deemed the highest priority. They had chosen the city for multiple reasons. The first being that it was simply the closest. The second being that all other areas of interest were either still standing or contested. The third and last being that it had been completely overrun. This meant the cultists had free run of the place and were doing who knows what. This being chaos they were dealing with meant it would undoubtedly end horribly and needed to be dealt with. The leading theory at the moment was that they intended to summon a greater demon into the materium with a great ritual of blood sacrifice and violence. Of course with the city being completely fallen that meant there was no one else to contest them. This in turn meant they could use their full doctrine in all its horror without interference.

Tomas allowed a small smile to form on his pale face. The exact details of their plan was still uncertain beyond a few pieces. The most important being stopping the ritual they could all feel. Fortunately that part should be relatively simple as rituals like these were notoriously finicky. The first part of their plan was to make use of the cannon fodder they had picked up during their time in the north. The plan was to send them first against the enemy's defenses to do some damage. However that was not the main goal. You see they wanted to exploit the Khornates own nature against them. This type of cultist was known for their battle lust, violent temper, and general hatred of magic. The idea was to use the animated corpses of their allies to drive them into a blind rage and lure them out into the open. They would hopefully be so blinded by their own faults to fall for it and leave the safety of their defenses. It shouldn't be too hard considering chaos loves to be the attacker especially followers of the blood god. Anyway once they were out in open the army would be able to swarm them while being bolstered with support based magic. At the same time other necromancers would lash out with long range spells while elite units go up against more powerful foes.

There was also talk going around that perhaps they could use this. The idea was to hijack the power of the ritual and send it to Dracul. It had merit he thought magic frequently was based on thought and symbolism as much as energy and by conquering the enemy they could claim the gathered energy in a way that resonated. Like how the khornates were always collecting skulls. Perhaps they should use a magic circle utilizing necromantic symbols and that of their lord to help do it. Throwing in some prayers would probably be a good idea as well. Maybe even sacrifice a few still living cultists to the dark dragon. Hmm maybe he should pass that idea on to the church back home when they returned. Assuming someone wasn't already doing so.

Tomas suddenly found himself pulled from his thoughts. Looking to the side he noted another small warband. These cultists were apparently the less rational kind as they were charging. They screamed threats and battle cries as they went which was what distracted him. Scowling the necromancer quickly picked out their leader. Adjusting his hood he quickly unleashed the gaze of Nagash. The leader's battlecry quickly turned into a wail of pain as his flesh blackened and peeled away to reveal bone. Pleased at the man's suffering Tomas felt his earlier smile return. Reaching out with his mind he ordered the nearby undead to start recruiting the newcomers.

Omake: The Ebony Shrines

Since the time of the Unification the word of Dracul has spread throughout Wallachia. The masses pray to him in thanks for giving them a better life. Priests give fiery sermons to stoke the flames of faith. The Holy Judges and Illuminati act in accordance to carry out his edicts. There is one thing that ties all of these together besides faith. The need for a suitably holy location in order to be closer to the dark dragon. The churches and cathedrals were well done and served their role well, but for the greatest works something special was needed. So came the creation of these dark monuments across the land.

The shrines are paradoxical to most creature's understanding of things. Both holy and infernal in equal measure and shining with power to those with the needed sense to perceive. They are designed and crafted in a way that makes them naturally close to the one they venerate. In short they make the veil between realms thin and connect deeply to the emperor of the dead's realm. Proclaiming to all the power and majesty of their lord even altering the land around them into a darker mirror where shadows were long and thick regardless of time and lighting. Where trees nearby became darker and more gnarled becoming cursed copses. The very air would become still and quiet outside of rituals so as to not violate their sanctity. They were both wonders and nightmares depending on the observer and their allegiance.

The shrines are masterfully crafted with devotion and fervor being obvious. Every piece is masterfully crafted and annointed in a ceremony by a priest. Deceptively simple in design and majestic all at once. A circular base of shaped stone lifts it above the ground by twelve feet in a gentle slope. Upon the top sat an incomplete circle of finely crafted and treated wood. Carved in were ethereal sigils of magic and the god's runes. Within crafted channels sat fine curves of gold and silver. Upon the stone floor lay a great array of sigils symbols of varying schools and sitting at the center was the symbol of the dragon god himself. At the outer edge of the array were the symbols of the winds of magic and just past them were gems of the appropriate color. At the back opposite to the stairs up sat a brazier of black metal and stone. Within burned a pale green flame that crackled quietly without any source of fuel and seemed to flicker in and out of reality. To the loyal followers of the ascended vampire it is the most holy of places. To those beyond their realm it is a monument to dread and a creation of the darkest workings.

Their fear and horror only grows when they learn of how these great shrines were built. More specifically what went into making them. Each of the existing shrines were built on methods that demonstrated the great conquest and incorporated elements of the dark god's nature. The precious metals were to symbolize the greed of his draconic side. The wood was taken from the eldest blood oaks in the greatest of the cursed copses within the duchy of Mousilion. It was then treated with magic of each wind by an experienced wizard and that of a necromancer. The many sigils in used in the shrine are meant to connect to the Other Sea and to aid in magical affairs as a focus and amplifier. The blood of the craftsmen who shaped it was willingly given in an act of faith. Blood from the priest who consummated the shrine as well as blood from elder vampires of each bloodline in Wallachia were added in. Finally the blood of elder dragons of each type to help give the shrine its spark and ignite the flames.

Finally came the most terrible part of construction. The stone that formed the foundation of it all. This stone had been treated similarly to the wood used and was heavily enchanted. What made it so terrible was where it came from. There were a number of sources and none of them pleasant. Some had been gathered from ancient tombs like the defiled barrows already soaked in dark magic. Some had been brought from the castles where the old nobles and their knights had been slaughtered their blood tainting it. The worst of it had come from a mixture of the previous two.

Dracul had noted something during his conquest years ago. His necromantic power had not been able to penetrate certain tombs. These were the resting places of the most loyal of the lady's servants and they were protected by her power. That was no longer the case though. The lady had been driven out years ago with all of her symbols burned, sacred places defiled, and her followers butchered. In fact the shrines were built on top of the desecrated sacred spots that had been dedicated to her. The loss of her influence and the flood of dark magic had stripped away that protection. The dark dragon decided to have one last jest at her expense. The tombs were torn apart and broken down the magic they still contained cannibalized for the creation of the shrines. Those buried within were raised as powerful wights to serve in whatever manner the father of the night desired. He tasked them to guard his holy places alongside the custodes. Those same places made from the remains of their once resting places as well as the stone that absorbed their descendants blood when they were killed. It was truly a bit of wonderful irony.

It is here that the darkest rituals of the dragon cult are done. Where great workings of magic and faith are done for their god. It was here great sacrifices were made. Ranging from artifacts of power to the life force of foes. While the latter could technically be done anywhere with just some declaration and prayers a holy place was better. The reason they were done at these shrines is because of the connection to the shadow realm. Here the power of a sacrifice and the gains from it were much more potent. The creature used for it would visibly wither away as their life and soul were taken. Their body aging to dust until even that disappeared. They were consumed completely and utterly by the god. It was also from which his spell casters could conjure great workings they would normally never be capable of. Up to and including calling forth his draconian children from beyond.

The rest of the old world cowers. The very mention of these places inciting fear in even the most stalwart hearts. Many pray in thanks there were only a few and they were all away in Wallachia. That however will not always be the case. Dracul will rule far and wide in time and new shrines will be assembled to show his reign.

A/N: I might end up glossing through quite a lot of battles stated here, because I don't want to end up being bogged down by a multitude of chapters in this instance.

Throngs of Dawi marched towards the gates of Middenheim, much to the bewilderment and shock of the inhabitants as they neared.

"To be honest, when you said you were friends with a Dwarven King, I actually didn't believe you for a moment," Said Gunthilde, "And yet here they are, unlikely reinforcements."

"He owes me for helping him settle a grudge," Said Tolcariath smilingly, "But Dwarves are always a stout ally to have."

And soon, they came face-to-face with the leader of the Dawi Throng, King Belegar Ironhammer of Clan Angrund, housed in Karak Azul.

"Tolcariath! Great to see you!" Belegar smiled happily, shaking hands.

"It's good to see you, Belegar," Said Tolcariath smilingly.

Siegfried III then came and personally greeted King Belegar, saying, "It's a honour to meet you, King Belegar. I am Wolf-Emperor Siegfried III Toddbringer, of the Northern Trident."

"The honour's all mine, Siegfried," Said Belegar, "So, I hear you've a Skaven problem?"

"Indeed, and we would greatly appreciate your help in rooting it out once and for all," Said Siegfried III.

"Rest assured, we will do whatever it takes," Said Belegar, "Though I have to question why your predecessors never got around to taking care of the root problem…"

Siegfried III offered a weak smile, saying, "Perhaps they were not of the mind to do so."

It was perhaps a weak reason, but the best one he could think of.

"That doesn't matter right now," Said Tolcariath, "I've already had the expeditionary headquarters dug out; we can discuss further there."

"Sounds good to me," Said Belegar.

The battle for Under-Middenheim was long and hard, but casualties were surprisingly lighter than expected, and with the liberal use of magic, explosives and guns, the Skaven were beaten back and finally expunged from the tunnels altogether. For the first time in centuries, Middenheim was free of the Skaven threat.

"Finally… it's over…"

Gunthilde stood over the graves of her parents, murdered by Skaven when she was a child.

"Part of it is over, Gunthilde."

Tolcariath stood beside her, looking rather tired and worn with a few bandages on his face.

"There's still the tunnel network to renovate for our use, and the possible threat the Drakwald poses to us by its existence," He said, "And then there is the matter of having the Elves of Laurelorn join the province of Nordland, before the Vampire sightings in the Forest of Shadows. We've our work cut out for us."

"We've just cleared out the Skaven and already you're thinking of what else to do?" Gunthilde said incredulously, before laughing, "You're a real workhorse, aren't you?"

Tolcariath merely smiled, saying, "I've a lot of things in mind, many things I want to accomplish in life. The unification of the Empire being one."

Gunthilde laughed again, saying, "You know, when you're the one saying it, I actually believe you. You're the kind of man who's driven to absolutely achieve what he wants to, and few share your diligence."

"I strive to please, My Lady," Said Tolcariath.

And then, Gunthilde hugged him, nestling her face into his chest.

"Please… stay with me," She said.

"For as long as you want," Said Tolcariath.

The Talabeclander Empire had already been crumbling for years, beset by internal corruption and strife and the Empress proving helpless before the power of the nobility. It was easy – pathetically so – to occupy Talabheim and bring the deposed Empress Otilia III before Wolf-Emperor Siegfried III.

Many Talabeclander nobles in attendance jeered and booed at her, as if hating her from the very beginning (some of them did).

And so, Wolf-Emperor Siegfried III stood before her, reading from a scroll.

"Otilia III, you stand accused of negligence and causing untold grief and sorrow for the people under your rule, and letting the threats in your realm fester without taking action," Said Siegfried III, "What have you to say in your defense?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Otilia III retorted, "These idiot nobles kept on interfering with my rule!"

"Spare us the fucking nonsense!"

One man moved forward from the crowd to point an accusatory finger at Otilia III, old and haggard and limping on a leg, but burning with boiling anger.

"You refused to act as an Empress should, and because of you my son Caleb is dead!!" He shouted, "What in Taal's name do you have to say to that, huh!?"

"Lord Feuerbach, please!" Pleaded a noblewoman, "Calm yourself."

The old man, Tristain Feuerbach, huffed angrily as he stepped back, helped by the lone noblewoman as she led him by hand away from the crowd.

"Alas, it seems you've been abandoned and left to rot," Said Siegfried III, "Anyone else in favour of her death?"

Many simply gave flat assurances and approval, those on Tristain's side advocated enthusiastically, and a minor few pleaded for mercy.

Those merciful few were taken away by the guards.

"Very well," Said Siegfried III, "Execute them."

Them, not me? Otilia thought, What could he possibly mean-

"Aah!"

The first heads were sent flying as assassins began killing nobles left and right, painting the palace a deep crimson with their blood as the same leeches who advocated for her death were themselves killed by Elves.

And in the middle of it all, a lone woman rushed towards Otilia, her skin unnaturally pale and her mouth baring fangs. She leaped with such inhuman speed, few could react in time as Otilia beheld her would-be assassin with horror and fear!

Even as she screamed, Tolcariath was first to act, throwing one of his swords and piercing the woman in the chest.

The assailant fell, but she was quick to get up. Tolcariath was faster, pinning her arms to the ground with his swords.

"Take the Vampire away for questioning, and clean the mess," Tolcariath ordered.

The Lahmian was carried away in silver chains, and a bewildered Otilia III looked on as she felt her own restraints being unlocked.

"W-What was that all about?" She questioned.

"You were bait, Otilia," Said Siegfried III, "To draw out any and all disloyal nobles who would prove a problem down the road."

"What? So… that whole trial was a performance?" Otilia III asked.

"You still have to answer for your lack of action, believe me," Said Siegfried III, "Every ruler worth their power must never hesitate to use force; you did not, and so you will forevermore be ridiculed as a weak and powerless Empress."

The truth of his words stung Otilia III badly.

"Then what would you have me do now?" She asked.

"Go to Albrecht of Nuln, sue for peace – five years," Said Siegfried III, "Don't come back if you fail."

And then Tristain Feuerbach stepped forward, ushered by Tolcariath.

"Your Majesty, I don't understand why you wish to talk to me," He said.

"Because I want you to be the next Elector Count of Talabecland," Said Siegfried III.

Tristain looked at Siegfried III, and then to Tolcariath.

"So… this was all planned?" He asked.

"It was, Lord Feuerbach," Said Tolcariath, "But the Lahmian's appearance was fully unexpected, we assure you."

Tristain simply nodded.

"At least justice is now served," He said, "Though… I'm not sure if I can fulfil the capacity – I'm an old man, after all."

"We are aware, but if no one holds the position, there will be instability," Said Siegfried III.

"I understand, Your Majesty," Said Tristain, "And thank you."

Aleksander Von Carstein watched the new military of Mousilion take shape, living Human and Undead skeletons training side by side.

Moving in unison according to barked instructions, the militia of Mousilion was nothing like their Bretonnian counterparts – fully equipped and well-trained to exacting standards and confident in their posture.

This was a real military not unlike the Imperials, not the crappy excuses those Dukes loved to parade around.

"Milord, the Necromancers are ready for interview, as y'asked."

Bastien looked considerably healthier than he last saw, cheeks and limbs filled with more muscle and having a healthier complexion from an enriched diet.

"Good, lead the way," Said Aleksander.

Castle Mousilion had long since been renovated with his investments, the decrepit, cracked stones now replaced with oily black stone, impervious to most trebuchet shots. Like an evil tyrant's overarching presence the castle loomed over all visitors who dared enter its premises, gargoyles watching from their perches and tireless Undead maintaining their eternal vigil. Towers jutted up towards the sky like stalactites, like the spears of the underworld trying to pierce the Heavens themselves.

Within its lavishly furnished halls, replete with silk curtains and rugs and intricately woven tapestries bearing his heraldry, awaited a group of five necromancers nervously shifting around on their feet. Dressed in shaggy robes, they looked terribly out of place and self-conscious of their appearance.

Aleksander greeted them with a warm and gentle smile, beckoning them forward.

"Come, so I may look more closely at you," He said.

They nervously stepped forward, trying not to gawk at how extravagant the whole castle looked.

"You there, what is your name?" He asked their leader.

"K-Kel'Thuzad, milord," He said.

"Kel'Thuzad, a fine name," Said Aleksander, "So why did you turn to necromancy in the first place?"

"W-We didn't have a choice, milord," Said Kel'Thuzad, "There was this Vampire that forced us to work for her. Edita Stromberg, she was called. She forced us to raise corpses on pain of death. We ran from our village after being found out we had magic – everyone wanted us dead."

"And Edita?" Asked Aleksander.

"D-Dead, by Imperial troops," Said Kel'Thuzad, "We ran here, with nowhere else to go."

"I see," Said Aleksander, "Why not work for me?"

"Y-You'd hire us just like that?" Said Kel'Thuzad in disbelief.

"Why should you be killed for practicing magic alone, and necromancy at that?" Said Aleksander, "I plan to hire you because I feel like it, and because I feel that you being killed is a waste of talent. Is that simple enough?"

"But…"

Aleksander merely smiled, saying, "I'm not forcing this on you, though. If you're not comfortable, you need not have to work for me, but you're also welcome to stay in Mousilion as long as you like."

"Kel'Thuzad, we should accept the offer," Said one of the men, "Where else can we go without being hunted?"

Kel'Thuzad nodded at this, and said to Aleksander, "We accept. We gladly accept."

"Excellent," Said Aleksander, "Go and get fitted with your new uniforms, we've work to do."

A/N: Hope you guys liked it.