Lords of Darkness (WHF CK2-Ish Quest)

[RandomDwarf]

[To Sabotage A Ritual]
​

Alexander Von Carstein was annoyed...no scratch that he was FURIOUS at the moment. Not at the messenger that passed the information about the Ritual those Chaos Curs were doing, no he was annoyed at the chaotic elements themselves. He had many plans for Bretonnia, and indeed allot of it required the living to KEEP living, as well as maintain the secret civil war and erranty war to keep going as long as possible. The more corpses that were made, the more his undead armies will swell. The More brutal both sides of the erranty civil war were, the more people will flock to his banner and pay tribute to him. The More the erranty war fought, the more likely he would be able to undermine the Faith of the Lady.

He already saw himself as Her Rival, and he intended to surpass her in these lands. After all, she had such a abundance of the living to be worshipped by, and just simply going for the nobility weakened her greatly considering the prospects and capabilities of the living peasents that could have been supplied. Knowledge, tricks, and possible advances in all things...she could have become a powerful entity that united the entirety of Bretonnia, and not only make these lands flourish beyond reckoning, but also maintain a massive mage presence due to the magics of these lands. Especially if she had dealt fairly with Bretonnia's "Neighbors"....

As it was he could only grumble furiously at himself of the idiocy of some of the "Gods" of Order, as well as setting up preparations to keep himself from doing the same "off-hands" work. Now, mentioning that he scrolled over the old plans for the type of castle the Cult of Nurgle were stationed in. It was the usual bretonnia designed castle, with the usual applied constructions and capabilities...if anything he picked out over a dozen weaknesses just by glancing at the design. Not to mention numerous ideas on HOW to weaken the entire province while he was at it that would be easily fixable for his own people, both living and dead, to deal with. Of course this would mean due to how magic functioned, a simple bat scuffing a candle, a controlled rat disturbing the wards/ritual lines, or even throwing enough zombies at the gates to allow assassins' to hit the fools while he unleashed light magic to burn critical parts of the ritual itself would be useful.

There were also the weather issues that could come into play, even a long range bombardment could be used...as well as simply going himself to deal with it in the dead of night. Alexander smirked darkly as he thought of that bit...it would be...interesting...to see how his abilities stacked against the fools. Not to mention the numerous weapons he had in his inventory...while he wanted to fully complete his mental library of knowledge on all the winds of magic, he would have to see how things would go.

Of course his recent idea of the Ordo Militia would have to be...cared for...to prevent the fools from causing issues with his plans. Which meant a personal visit to the abbot to insure that everything went according to plan. As well as the first few cathedrals, that would also tie in to his plans...and a few experiments with the energy of...Belief...as he was calling it. Nodding to himself, Alexander Von Carstein would need to make sure the ritual was sabotaged, even if he had to conduct his own counter ritual against it...perhaps even blighting the lands so that not even the sicknesses of Nurgle could grow? Another wider grin full of teeth bloomed from his "Face" as he revealed his full vampiric features...yes...this would definitely allow him to "Clean" up the influence of chaos nicely, might even be useful for a opening act against the cult!

Then of course the swarm of vampire bats, dire wolves, and other nasties he could throw at the cult to allow him entry into the castle...knowing the nurgle cultists, they would not have rebuilt what they have taken down, considering that the forces of chaos can never truly build up what they have taken down...fools the lot of them.

As it was, the night was young, and Alexander would need to call in a few of his favored humans in order to properly plan things out, as well as call his necromancers to consult the spirits of the dead on the keeps possible new additions...Yes, the ritual would not go off, and Bretonnia would be HIS to control, to Rule, and to Guide to the future. After all, a immortal God Emperor of this would be in the cards for him, and if he had to crack a few dozen heads of his "Fellow" gods, Eat the more Malicious Ones, and of course ally with others would be on the cards...now...how would he find the dwarven gods to consult with? Or even the Gods down South? Sigmar would need to be...watched...carefully...as well as Ulric. But as it were, getting everything set up and ready for his own ascension would be paramount for now, as well as preventing a super plague from draining his living subjects.

 

[Dain24601]

Not sure if this is enough. If not, I'll have to expand it further.

Knives in the Dark​

Location: Somerwhere in Mousillon.

While Britonia burned and the Empire Struggled, deep within the Mousillon underground several hooded figures met within the dark halls. They were ghosts, they did not exist as far as the world above was concerned. This suited them just fine as it allowed them to better fulfill their Lord's will. With the discovery of the planned ritual, all members were in attendance. "Brothers, our orders are clear we must prevent this ritual from occurring no matter the cost." Said Leader. The group had names assigned to them depending on the situation. On a mission, each was assigned a codename befitting their role. Outside of this they had names to distinguish themselves though this was subject to change at a moments notice, how they manage with such a system is a mystery none outside the order are privy to.

As the group studied the stolen maps before them and consulted their available supplies, they discussed how best to disrupt the ritual. One member, currently referred to as Discord, was the first to speak. "Directly striking the summoners is possible but difficult, if we could plant agents among their ranks its possible we can 'persuade' a few of them of the existence of traitors among their own. They would do our job for us then." Another member, Audacity made her option known."While extremely dangerous, if we can successfully alter their ritual preparations, the whole thing will come apart on it's own, we can even frame it as intervention of one of the other Gods." Yet another member, Strife, spoke. "If we're to infiltrate the camp we need a distraction. As it so happens there are Ork warbands throughout the countryside we can herd in the direction of their outer camps. This should keep them busy for awhile."

For days these talks continued until finally the order came to mobilize. They gathered the tools of their trade, supplies to last them the trip, and departed the halls without a word. Their Lord had given them their orders and they would not disappoint him.

 

[Dain24601]

Two in one day? What the hell, why not.

A House Divided Cannot Stand​

Location: Outskirts of Castle of Lyonesse

"Whaaag!!!" Once again for the third time that night, the Norscans we're awoken by the sound of an incoming attack and once more they mobilized to meet it. It was far too easy to lead these stray ork bands into clashes with the Norscans.
As the Ork war-band clashed with the exhausted Norscans, neither side noticed as helmeted Norscan warriors fell behind their comrades answering charge before ultimately returning to the camps, nor did they notice as several corpses from the piles they'd made suddenly arose and began cutting open several others to retrieve their equipment. The group made their way into the food stores and added their own special blend into the mix.

The next morning several Norscans awoke in a maddened frenzy and began attacking indiscriminately. The leader of this camp was among the ones who had to be put down. That he was supposed to be one of the summoners was a setback that would delay the summoning until a replacement could be found. A whispered word in the ears of the survivors convinced them that the fallen we're khanites and that several others we're likely among their ranks, ready to sabotage their great work.

The seed of doubt had been planted, now began the work to tend to it's poisonous growth. The ritual would be stopped no matter what methods they would ultimately have to employ.

 

[Negation]

Bait and Switch

Location: Somewhere outside Castle Lyonesse

It was the low tide, the seabed below the motte of Castle Lyonesse lie exposed beneath the sun revealing the bounty of Manann. Kelp, shrimp and crabs were aplenty but these did not interest the men scurrying across the slippery lichen covered ground.

Their target, the complex series of caves beneath the motte now exposed alongside the underground river. They quickly entered the largest one where the river flowed to the sea, uncaring for leaving any traces for they would be washed away once the tide rises again.

They penetrated as deeply as they dared and stopped directly beneath the castle's foundations. Now they carefully and precisely planted the devices and implements granted them by Holy Aleksander and ritually carved sigils and runes into the rock as they hummed hymns praising His Name.

Finishing their Sacred Task, they fell back in good order, scattering scraps of Ork & Nroscan weapons and fetishes randomly about, sometimes wandering into side paths and doubling back.

By the time they reached the exit, the tide had risen and fell, the waning moon provided minimal light, casting enough shadows for them to safely retreat undetected back to their safehouse.

Now they released their Messenger Bat from the roof to report their success and waited.

---​

Dawn.

A great rumble resounded from Castle Lyonesse. Birds screeched and took to the air alongside a huge cloud of dust rising from the earth.

A small tidal wave swept to shore coating it with jetsam buzzing with flies and a vile otherworldly stench.

The Duke of Lyonesse roared with rage as his knights & squires ran around like headless chickens as anarchy reigned.

As to why? Castle Lyonesse has sank a foot into the earth, also it was now leaning.

 

[avatar11792]

Okay, I'm going to try my hand at this omake thing.


Omake: Long Range Love

The leaning structures of Castle Lyonesse could be seen far into the distance, the hit squad reported. Smoke rose, something deep inside the massive structure having clearly caught aflame, and work crews buzzed like ants from such a vast distance away, barely visible even with the sharp hawk-like eyes of the lead scout.

"How are they on repairs?"

"Same as usual," the scout quietly grunted, slowly moving back deeper into the shade of the tree's branches he was nestled in. His outfit, like all of theirs, were light leather and padded gambesons, but with the addition of branches, leaves, and evne some mud and dirt smeared or glued onto it. It was a messy rig, but it guaranteed the team would not be caught visible by any party barring the supernatural, and even then they had a few trinkets to deal with that problem. "Seems like the usual leadership, bullying and roaring like usual."

"Still whipping them?"

A shrug. "Yeah, they don't know how to by any other means."

"Fucking knights."

The group nodded. Recruited from Mousillon's depths, they all knew how corrupt Brettonia's knights could be.

The leader stretched slightly, drawing his team mates' attention. He carefully placed his massive crossbow, almost an arbalest in size, on his lap, gesturing to their weapons. "Situation isn't any different than before," he grunted quietly. "We still have our leads, and they are still doing their normal routine."

"Is six weeks enough for a reliable pattern?"

The leader paused. "We dare not wait any longer. We deploy at sunset."

***

The sun was barely beginning to descend, the colors of the sky beginning to change as their positions in three copses of trees were secured. In truth they had been secured a long time before, the ignorant shepherds and flower-strewn maidens who wandered by in the daylight ignorant of the secured perches literally over their heads. They had been watched as well, the usual poxes and warts on their faces from the diseased Brettonian way of life scarcely worse than usual at Nurgle's corrupting touch, but ultimately they were decided to be unworthy of death's touch, for they had departed on their usual rounds.

Their targets were moving well as usual, a septet of priests and priestesses who only departed from the castle every seven days, a clear need for supplies for their rituals evident in their behavior and what they brought back to the doomed castle. They were definitely NOT the higher ranks of Nurgles' priests, for those individuals were so blessed by their dark god's touch that they could not be inconspicuous in a public light. No, these were the the ranks below them, the second and third tiers, for Nurgle's number being seven there were seven tiers of priests for any ritual seeking to maximize Nurgle's power on this plane.

The leader clambered into his chosen perch with his partner, and they both grabbed their icons around their necks, symbols of Lord Alexander's power. He would protect them from Nurgle's gaze, and as the sun's light waned his power would grow, so mote it be.

Each chosen Nurglite priest has two crossbowmen trained on him, chosen to ensure a quick instant kill; is one missed, the second would finish them off. The guards around them, hulking corrupted Brettonian knights who were disguised in thick layers of cloth and leather (barely hiding their new "blessings"), were deemed irrelevant; if the team was caught they would be dead anyway, unable to escape in time. They were good certainly, but not invisible, or as fast as the gazelles or Araby's deserts. One day maybe, but not now.

The leader pulled out his favorite tool, a retractable periscope from the mystic land of Araby. Its thick glass lenses provided a view that seemed much like magic, and the subtle cursed features of the priests virtually leapt into view as shadows lengthened. Of course they would depart now, they sought the advantages of sunset and twilight in the obscuration of their features as their own team used.

"Target acquired," he mumbled lightly. "Approach is normal. Prep weapons."

Much effort had been spent on acquiring the needed weapons and materials for this operation. The crossbows were oversized and very powerful, requiring truly massive men to absorb the recoil adequately. It was also something beyond Mousillon's smiths currently, so first the Imperials had been contacted, the black market, the underground, and had led to the first whisperings from their Imperial counterparts. There had been surprise, but the overture had been appreciated, and these weapons had been provided by the Imperials, long enemies of Nurgle as well. They were masterful in design, firing bolts both faster, farther, and hitting much harder than normal. They even included iron nubs on the end to provide more accurate sighting, and a thick wooden stock sculpted to provide a brace against the vibrations from firing. They were the work of a partnership between a dead poet's grace, and a mad engineer's lamentations of grief over loss from the damned.

The weapons inspected, the leader and his counterpart moved very carefully to pull out their sealed containers. They knew barely what was imbued in them, bolts of power, laced with fire and blasting powder in such a way to explode on hitting the target. There were reports of such devices, of course, but the works of the mad engineer who had invented them were thought old tales, and the engineer dead. Granting them these bolts came at a high price, but one worth it.

They were delicate devices, so loading took a long time, a steel crank slowing ratcheting backwards. One slip of the crossbow's steel cord and limbs or fingers could come off, and certainly the bolt would be destroyed; in many this was the most hazardous part of the operation, for their lives meant nothing, the mission was the all-consuming demand on their minds.

Finally the body-shattering power was contained, and cocked and loaded the duo waited, sighting on the targets on the hillside they had assembled and placed weeks ago, practicing and meditating for the perfect shot. Then it was nothing but waiting, the eternal waiting of the ones who fire from the shadows. Breaths were kept as quiet as possible, wrapped in layers of cloth, and heartbeats measured and found wanting.

In truth the perch was pretty comfortable to one used to its contours for so long, and the leader's eyelids had begun to barely sag when a gentle poke in his elbow woke him instantly. The rattle of horses came along, and soon the entourage moved down the dirt path, priests riding with a casual air draped in their disguises as castle staff, the sound of laughter everywhere as they conversed amongst themselves. Of course they were relaxed, they were all one family, cursed as they may be, and this was their land, rebellion long beaten from the native peasants. No threat stood to render any paranoia valid.

The target came up, and he heard his partner sigh as he did, sighting and calibrating last minute to accommodate the swaying of the horses.

The wind seemed to die down a little bit, nature holding its breath as they did.

With the last flicker of open sun descending down from the hilltops there was a hiss of fire, a fuscillade of lethal bolts flying in from all directions. The knights who provided escort could not react in time even with their minimal blessings, and priests who had told tales of their cursed brethren and of happy times with them found limbs, heads, and chest cavities exploding writhing cavaldes of fire. Smoke and flames filled the air, and the priest's screams were mercifully cut short after their capacity to do so was rendered inert.

Steel was drawn and shouting erupting as the corrupted knights began to sally forth, but the leader and his partner had already leapt down from the tree, running through irrigation ditches as the flames and smoke provided temporary cover. By the time the knights had anything resembling a target to charge at, the various teams had already departed back into the shadows.

***

The leader and his partner made it back to the rendezvous, and finally hoods came back, the leader issuing a rare smile as his companion's long locks of hair were allowed to be unleashed.

He looked at his team. "Even their cursed god can't bring what remains back. Good job, we'll break up and meet at the border at the swallow's tree."

The fourteen strong team nodded then dispersed, and the leader moved in to give his wife a deep kiss before they did the same.



***

So, lots going on here.

- 7 second and third tier Nurglite priests assassinated. While not the most directly powerful it is their still-visible humanity with minimal obvious "blessings" that allow them to venture out to keep the cultists supplied. They have paid for their lack of vision, and their deaths will severely destabilize the ritual due to lack of proper training and time to properly train new priests.
- This Mousillon hit team was supplied by Imperial assassins, with over-engineered massive steel crossbows deliberately designed by an unknown insane Imperial engineer to take out clearly superhuman targets, including explosive incendiary bolts.

So, @Alucard vampiry , I stand ready for judgement.

 

[Dain24601]

Summoner's Woes​

Location: Castle of Lyonesse

As Morrslieb rose high in the sky, Chieftain Grimtooth allowed a small smile to grace his face. Soon, very soon a lifetime of work would finally come to fruition. When he'd initially set out on this mission, he'd done so with thousands of warriors across dozens of tribes he'd spent decades uniting. While he'd been blessed with centuries of life thanks to the father's blessings, the same could not be said of his tribesmen. Decade after decade he watched them wither and die. The plague father felt his sorrow, and blessed him with a vision: to invade the Southlands, and summon one of his most gifted creations. If he could accomplish this, then he would never again have to see another young warrior pass before his time.

Throughout this campaign, he'd lost many brothers to the wrenched southerners, forever denied their chance at ascension. Many shamans had perished as well, delaying the ritual as new replacements had to be located and trained. In addition they were constantly losing men to Greenskin attacks. This was in addition to the loss of their food stocks early in their journey, and the fact that in a last act of spite, the granaries had been burned down. Many of his men were hungry. Looting wasn't enough to fill this demand and several would soon starve. There was no turning back now, either they all ascended, or they all perished. There was no other recourse.

Soon, very soon his great work would be finished. And maybe then the specters of the departed would finally be at ease in knowing their tribesmen were spared their fate.

 

[Alucard Vampiry]

GM Note: If you find yourself confused about this omake, then that means that l am doing this right.

+++++++++++++

Skulltaker​

The Skulltaker is not easily surprised, being the favorite herald of the blood god granted you that, he wasn't like his other kin he did not blindly attack his opponent in moments of pure rage, not that he didn't had these moments of pure fury.

He didn't fight like a berserker – blindly lashing out against the enemy he fought like a master.

Many had been granted a glorious death by his blade, their skulls naturedly taken, from kings to emperors all have met glorious death.

But that's not to say he is invincible, he was defeated in the past, of course he would met these foes who had bested him and before the duel he would congratulate them for defeating him, before he would destroy them.

No one had ever survived past the second encounter they had with him. When he was traveling across some region of the Imperium searching for a worthy foe to duel, he was summoned by his lord the mighty Khorne who gave him a task.

A champion had appeared in a another reality who showed potential and he would test him.
His lord looked surprisingly lucid when he was informing him of this task.

If the champion managed to survive in a duel against him lasting 88 minutes he would been granted the blessing of the blood god.

His task given he was send off to the location of the champion, his coming heralded by a surge in conflict in the world, emerging in a shower of blood and bone he faced the champion – who was already there, waiting for him, he didn't look particularly impressive.

Except for his eyes, he had seen many followers of his lord and dueled them too all of them had that furious look in their eyes and so their movements were easily predictable, but the eyes of this particular champion had no fury only an impressive amount of focus, and he was surprised by that.

The duel began in its earnest.

 

[RandomDwarf]

Aleksander, Father of Dragons
The Awakening and Gathering.
​

When Aleksander had given his divine energy to his "children", he could not have foresaw what would have happened, only those sensitive to the to the time-stream, and due to its constant flux of time-precog's as well as a certain Indecisive mollusk's efforts, had allowed a Once man, then Vampire, Now a Minor God to gain a whole new domain, one that had been left unattended. The Very Domain and Title of Father Of Dragons. This title, once belonging to a beast who was considered equal Asuryan (Which in any case may have been false on many accounts...for a dragon is not something you wish to test your might against, especially The Father of Dragons himself!), and then brutally and fatally Wounded by Anath Raema who was then banished by Asuryan forever more due to her actions, left dragon-kind severely weakened and vulnerable to the touch of chaos. Or perhaps that elven legenden was only a myth...yet even stories had a affect on the warp, and more so grudges can carry for a long time, this even the dwali knew...

Even with their legendary resistance, had the Ancient father of dragons lived in the ancient legend of Ulthan, perhaps the Chaos Dragons would have never come about...alas, it had happened...and an old Grudge was now planted as a seed into the Unknowing godling who even now tended to the first of his divinely gifted children. Ten Carmine Dragons, lords of the winds of death...and were acting as excited little children rather then the clever, cruel, and deadly beyond measure. However such things were beyond him, for as he tended to them, The Dragonsong Echoed in the dreaming realm of the warp...the Song that was the universal language of all dragons, able to awaken even the deepest and most catatonic emperor dragons from their slumber to go to war.

Yes, even now, from the Primeval Shard Dragons, to the highest Star dragons of Ulthan, to even the wastes of chaos where maddened and brutally mutated beasts that resembled the noble lords of the sky and earth in mockery shivered in primeval fear...and the father of the chaos dragons screamed in terror as it beheld visions of its own doom by the enraged father avenging the soul-death of its child. Indeed, even the black dragons of the Druchii shuddered and at times refused to go to war, require much magic and torment to push them forward even then with great reluctance...

And deep beneath the earth, the primeval shard dragons and magma dragons stopped for a brief moment in the hunt for food and territory and battles, only to FIGHT HARDER then before, sending many a magma troll, skaven-folk, deep-dwarves, and even chaos dwarven expeditions running for their lives. In the silence of the badlands to the far east, where the Chaos dwarves "reign" supreme...the bone-yard of dragons beheld whispers of the vengeful dead, those of dragon-kind that were refused their rest stir, sensing the change in all things and waiting for the moment of vengeance against all that transgressed the once holy site to where dragons once went to die.

And yet even further beyond, in the lands of Nippon and Cathay, some of the noble beasts of the eastern lands beheld the strange dreams of the Largest of their kind ever to exist, and those old enough to remember the ancient father of their lineage beheld a small candle, a tiny light of hope amidst the angered sea of greed, power, and lonely desires and near-stagnate natures. Some younger beasts without territory of their own began to make the journey west, to follow the strange dreaming, others stayed and contemplated, sending out magical probes and seeking out mortals who may be knowledgeable of the situation.

_______
Even closer to home many dreaming beasts started to rumble-

-Fire and Doom-fire dragons stirred in their magma chambers...their flaming and near burning forms rising and awakening with great passion and fury to the world...yet also with a savage joy of a long-seated vengeance to be claimed. Many different regions experience higher temperatures then normal as the fiery aspects of dragon-kind and the most well-known come into the world with curiosity and a savage glee.

-Forest and Venom Dragons awakened from their tree/cave entrances and began to wander the ever-changing time-locked forest of their home, unsure of what they sought, but seeking all the same...their forms slither and uncaring of whoever they disrupt, either fay or elf, they care not...and if they encounter the wild-hunt? They Usually leave the bands in pieces slaughtered where they stood. Their moods grim and a ancient grudge awakening in their poisoned souls for vengence long denied, yet they slither through the undergrowth, seeking passages to the outside world beyond the primeval world of the forests...

-Frost and Ice moved in their sedate and slumber some pace, breaking the ice that clung to their forms as they went to beheld the heavens to attain the answers they sought...to the frosted skies they sought their answers. Some stay in their regions, answers gained and now contemplated, others sedately moved depending on their territory to the lands of bretonnia...their chilled arua's affecting the weather-patterns beyond the normal...

-Magma Dragons, dwelling in the volcanic regions and deep in the earth turned and churned the molten chambers of their homes, some seeking the surface, creating massive volcanic explosions that wiped out entire regions around them, uncaring of who they caught in their way for answers. Many a region is devastated and left a ruin of itself as some magma dragons in fustration turn their wrath upon those unfortunately to get in their way.

-In the Dream Realm...Nightmare Dragons, beasts of Pure Shyish and possible evolution of the Carmine dragons turned their wicked and cruel gaze in curiosity to the new Dream that appeared...one that cared even if it disapproved of some of their choices...a new...sensation they had never felt and desired more of...and so they come, seeking the one that unknowingly calls them home. A dream unlike any other.

-In the highest heavens and deepest moutain regions, Storm dragons both regular and Great turned wilder then normal, throwing lighting at the slightest provocation in either jittering excitement or simply just their own crazed minds taking their own route of things. The Wild beasts irregular patterns of flight and thought turning this way and that as they meander to the realm that called to them...

_______________
Even the dragon-kin of the world, beasts that who may or may not totally be related to the ones known in the old world stirred...

-Celestial dragons, wise, serpentine, and golden scaled rumbled in their homes, much to the distress of many a cathay servant as they tried to appease the mighty beasts as they contemplated the newest arrival in the great game of destiny...yet it deeply pleased them on some primal level of such a new player...some sought scholars, others messengers, and yet some still began to plan for the newest arrivals role for the world itself, seeking to attain greater heights of prestige and power that is to come.

-In the so called dragon isles of the south, Great-Wyverns hunted, and with their animal-like instincts and mind, did not truly understand or notice the arrival of the new godling yet they still celebrated in the only way their animalistic minds could comprehend. And in some deep part of their primeval mind-set some minor groups of these terrifying beasts began to migrate from island to island until they hit the mainland, and then proceeded to move north-westward towards a unknown destination...

-The Primeval Merwyrms, beasts similar to the Shard dragons also held the primal intelligence of their kin, and yet they too stired in greater numbers and sightings since the awakening of the New Father, not that they truly understood...but they knew that something had changed, and they turned their gazes to the oceans near bretonnia, uncertain in the animal minds WHY, but only that they must go. Even as they swam to the new sea-lands that called to them, they were joined by their kin both the pale PagoWyrms and the Blackened ScioWyrms...both northern icey and deep-ocean dwelling beasts rising and comming to the newest lands...even as they drove the massive krakens and other sea beasts before them in their hunger.

-The Sea Dragons, Massive mutated beasts enslaved by the Dark Elves or Druchii depending on who you asked, stired from their chains and bindings...and rebuked them. It would take many lives and treasures and magic to keep them under control, and even then some got away from the sudden spell of madness that seemed to take them. For some reason heading south-west of their lands. Weeks later they would be sighted by Eleven trade ships following a seemingly massive migration of dragonoid species...even sighting the rare and elusive Hell-Drakes establishing authority over the hunting parties of the beasts.

-Even the Massive and wild Shard Dragons, beasts long stuck in the earth and devolved in anceint times, turned their gazes to the fair lands of bretonnia...even in the deepest and darkest depths of the earth they began to migrate. Churning through rock and stone and flesh and blood of those foolish enough to get in their way. Rune-lords alarmed by their own collared beasts that suddenly screamed and tried in almost vain to claw their way out of the karak holds towards a unknown destination were most often in frustration required to release the collars they had long used to "control" the beasts. The few that managed to keep the beasts under control suffered some great but replaceable losses.

-Cruel and massive toad dragons, beasts that are nearly mindless, reeking horrors of the old world before the time of the old ones lumbered from their swamps, called by some sort of vision or dream, slowly and carefully made their way south, devouring any who crossed their large bulky paths. Their near-impossible to kill nature and massive bulk insured their safety and their comfort even as they dragged themselves slowly across the northern lands. entire villages would disappear at a time and many a chaos champion would either be crushed under the bulk or chewed and spat out. Some kind of New instinct telling the beasts that to devour the "Uneatables" would result in some form of badness to the newly enhanced minds of the once near mindless beasts...for the spark of knowledge now lurked in their eyes, even if it was the primeval intelligence of beasts rather then simple existence.

-Wyverns, terrifying arrogant and cannibalistic beasts that trade the nobility, power, and grace of a dragon for all the brutal twisted malice that only ork-kind could endear to. Not even the orks would dare try to nab a fully grown member of these filthy beasts, and even dragons regard them as barely kin with great deal of disgust and grumbling anger. These beasts felt the rise more keenly then their other brethren...and became wrathful and fearful of what may come for them...for great was their many crimes, and many a arrogant beast only came out of their filth and nests in desperation of starvation or blind-fury that saw them eventually dead. Even the beasts "tamed" by the orks went wild in a frenzy as if afraid of some greater predator coming for them all.

All these beasts, either dragons or dragon-kin hear the subtle dragon-song that is sung. Even now in the realms of gods, many of the Order Gods took note of the newest incarnation's newly attained status and worry...for the dragons of old never worshiped a singular being before, and only those old enough to know (being elves of darker beings) could begin to understand what is to come...Some who had fought dragons before stirred and readied their champions.

Even in the depths of Caldor, the slumber so called Kalgalanos the Black "Father of Dragons" dreamed...dreaming of the one who would truly surpass the slumbering beast and become a true god of their kind...and for a dragon that is reputed to only awaken at the end of the world...it stirred the most slightest movement in its vast horde in the deepest chambers of ulthan's fiery volcano.
_____________
Even Tzeentch took note of the newest change, and laughed in its crystal palaces as it marked off another grand plan in the making, sure it MAY make the mortal realm stronger then before, and that the new godling MAY become a semblance of a ACTUAL threat in THIS realm to its designs...But the third entity of chaos, the primordial change and mutation and ambition as well as plots/schemes itself crackled in glee/wailed in fury/shuddered in delight fear/shrugged in response to this newest change. The Dragon-song, something so little and so much change...why it couldnt help but admire this little bit of a change to the timeline, sure its kin MIGHT cause the entity issues now that it had *TECHNICALLY* broken the "Rules" of the "Great Game" they had played so long, why they might even go as far as a another team-up to shatter the chaos god! Sure it MIGHT happen, but who cared? it had over 999 plots waiting for THAT little time-line to happen IF it ever does so.

Still to see that poor pus sack so grievously denied? Why that alone was almost worth a little "Gift" to the godling that was dancing to its tune...eh why not? it could..."HELP" the little one along by allowing the song to grow, why it may even get a new player for Paradox-Billards-Vostroyan-Roulette-fourth Dimensional hypercube-chess-strip poker! Even the Anathema could barely keep up these days with its little failing empire BEFORE IT GOT EVEN OFF THE GROUND!

Oh yes, everything was going JUST AS PLANNED!

 

[Whenyouseeyou]

Negaverse Bretonnia

Players: Shit we are doing bad at this war atleast the peasants haven't uprise yet.
Nat 1
Player 1: Crap what was that roll for!
GM: you will find out....
News rumor: The King is dead!
Players:Shit were going to die!
GM: You know someone will come to save all of you but it won't be who you thought it is.
Player 2: Who is it?
GM: I'm not telling but it's in Mousillion.
Player 3: You mean that crap of a City what are they doing since that new duke took over.
GM *Rolls dice* Oh Having their Golden Age.
Player 4: Man they have it better while we are being smash like flies.
GM: Hey who knows maybe if you just ask he can come to you.
Player 1: Nah we don't need them we can handle this our way.

 

[RandomDwarf]

Spoiler: The Lady of The Lake/Lileath POV

The Lady
In the Realm of a Fey Forest, where Grail knights patroled and the Green knight Knelt before a lake of purest water praying to his godess...the lady, an Elven Goddess of Ulthan, strolled along the banks in both Befuddlement, Annoyance, and Fear. The mortal's of her realm, the one she cultivated for the fighting force NEEDED to keep the forces of the arch enemy away from Precious Ulthan were failing. Not just failing, but tearing itself and being rent apart by forces within and without. Perhaps she concluded that she was mistaken to keep to some elements...but it had been so worth it back then. The Knights had been so splendent, so worthwhile as they practiced what they preached...if only maybe she had paid more attention, enforced more of her edicts...or perhaps placed a trial before the quest for the Grail...She would have many more knights and forces...

Though through this madness of a mess, she could only blame three entities so far...herself, Tzeentch...and whoever was in control of Moussilion, had become a God...one she began to rightfully fear as his power began to rapidly grow. Normally a god took decades if not centuries to grow strong enough to do what this new one could do...Yet right now he held the allegience of one of the greatest powers on the mortal plane. One that could match if not surpass the servants of the old ones if properly wielded. One Her people only dared to try and rouse to their wars.

Dragons...and not just any normal dragon...

She paused and listened through the forest surrounding her lake...even now she could hear that primordial song, one that was whispered, roared, cried, and shattering the very fabric of the warp with its presence. The serenity and forceful nature demanded respect, adoration, and rightful terror. Power that if properly harnessed could shape the fabric of reality...the true power of the dragons lay not in just using single winds of magic, no...she remembered a time when The Father Of Dragons walked...and that one had been the teacher of his kind...True High Magic, able to shape reality to their whims...

She knew not how the world was before the old ones walked the world. Only that it was a place where only the strongest survived, and those few that survived the extermination of that the old ones had done...were terrors of their own. But still...she had to know what this power was, and how it had risen...so with a heavy heart she began to search her grail knights...even her Mage Knights...her final weapons against the coming storm of chaos. Each one could eliminate armies and shatter nations, yet she could not reveal them to lightly, otherwise the four would escalate even further then before.

The Lady...No...Lileath, Elven goddess of dreams, pysker/magic, innocence, and fortune stared at her lake even as she began to make a gamble...turning to her green knight, the mortal she cared for dearly that was loyal unto the very end of existance, and she knew no doubt he would step directly in front of her to protect everything she knew dear if she asked of it, even if she didnt...yes...he would do with a small escort.

"My knight...please listen to me..." she called as her knight rose from the edge of the lake in attention.

"Go to Moussilion, take with you a small band of Grail knights, seek out what made the new realm of darkness...test whoever did it, but do not sell your lives dearly...for this god will be no laughing matter, and if he is who i may think he is...then you must not strike at him foolishly, only use force if nessessary. I must know who undermined Bretonnia...and where he stands in The War." she commanded with a calm calculating face. Her knight nodded before he could leave however, she touched his armor, imparting a small blessing she could manage. With a heartfelt moment between the two, she let the mists rise to cover him and his warband of grail knights...before they faded away she turned to her lake. Seeking more answers from the darkened depths...then a whisper came from around her...

"'I give my body, heart and soul, to the Lady whom I seek.' such a noble cause...yet all for the sake of a lie..." an aged voice called from the darkness around lileath.

"What?" Lileath whispered as she turned around, her mist swirling around her yet finding nothing...

"No plea for help shall find me wanting. No obstacle will stand before me. No evil will taint the lands bequeathed unto me, indeed brother...they say it, but such hippocrisy outstands me even to this decade." Another voice echoed along with the first.

"Show yourselves! in the Name of Ausuryan i command it!" she called out with her mist swirling deeply while magic crackled along her lakes surface...the dream shifted and readied...wait...the dream...it was...not answering her call?

"When the clarion call is sounded, I will ride out and fight in the name of Liege and Lady, i do beleive she is finally starting to get it brothers...and about time, a shame though...i had bet our brethren back in the Realm of Dark, Fire, and Ice a few claw-fulls of precious jewels from my own precious hoard that she would take longer then this to figure it out." A third raspy and cruel voice called out...and all three chuckled in the darkness as their crimson red glowing eyes the size opened in the shadows, each large enough to fit a man standing upright within the slitted pupil itself.

" Encarmine Dragons...no...Your not just Encarmine dragons...Emperor Dragons" Lilith whispered in horror as she stared at the three eldest members of the most sinester breed of dragons.

Then Deep, Broad, and cruel laughter echoed throughout the area of the lake, dispersing the mist and revealing somthing even more foul and sinister then a Encarmine Dragon...

The lady took a shuddering breath, even as a intermediate godess...who held worshippers of both man and elf...she knew the true terror before her now.

Beings that could threaten her own dominance with her domain of Dreams...

"Nightmare Emperor Dragons...The Three Seers of the Realm of Dreams..." Lileath whispered in quite horror as she beheld the three ELDEST dragons of the Encarmine Line, who had become the Winds of Death themselves...

The three grinned, somehow showing many rows of fanged teeth within armored shells of pure shyish winds that snapped and ground themselves sharp like beaks of a bird or a armored primordial fish when they opened and closed.

then they continued to speak...

"That which is sacrament, I shall preserve. That which is sublime, I will protect. That which threatens, I will destroy, for my holy wrath will know no bounds, How strange, and how wonderful that the godess of innocence is such a thief and a LIEAR!!!" the three snarled out as they glared at the godess as she stood her ground, her fear fadding away as she prepared for her own defense...before they continued on...

"Honour is all. Chivalry is all. Rejoice, for we, the Knights of Bretonnia...will be your shield, such were your words goddess...the one you created when you gave the first 12 knights their oaths to these lands...and yet how many died questing for a partly cup? How many has you made scheme doomed? How many of our kin died at the hands of some foolish knight? Little Lemmings are all that you have made, and each of your grail knights are either bitter of the world or too consumed by their own hubris that they cannot see the suffering before them. No, these words have rung false with the test of time, and you little godess have failed our fathers test, just like the rest of your pantheon so many ages ago." the three chanted as they began to fade away...

"Wait!! I demand to know why you are here!" Lileath called out as she glared at the three calling upon the winds of hysh to help her battle the three beasts before her.

" I give my body, heart and soul, to the Song which I seek. No plea for help shall find me wanting. No obstacle will stand before me. No evil will taint the lands bequeathed unto me. When the clarion call is sounded, I will ride out and fight in the name of My Lord and Kin. That which is sacrament, I shall preserve. That which is sublime, I will protect. That which threatens, I will destroy, for my Great Wrath will know no bounds. Knowledge is All, Power is All, The Song Is All." Rejoice little Goddess...for soon you shall witness the rise Of the Dragon Knights, and the Dragon Lords of old once more. This time, No elven God shall steal our Unity, Mind, and Souls. No Elven Goddess shall slay our flesh as a beast to hunt. No Evil Shall Claim our Souls and neither the Dread Moon or the Touch of the Enemy shall hold sway to us or our kin. We The Dragons of Old have returned...and revenge shall be ours once more." The three beasts called out from the darkness as the nightmare dragons flew into the dream of their kin...

Leaving behind a fearful goddess who wondered if she had not sent her knights to their ruin...and then she saw the pillar of darkness rise, and heard the birth of a god...and saw the largest dragon she had ever beheld even in the days of old...one so vast and mighty its very back could have become a mountain range itself! And so, lileath, goddess of the elves fled the scene to her own lands, to her own domain as she beheld the beast behind her rise, and so many calls of the souls of dragons echoed with their song. Granting it greater and greater power then ever before...so quickly...far, far, FAR too quickly.

Spoiler: The Quite Strange beginning of Shylla's Adventure.

Shylla

Shylla was not a violent goddess, nor was she a goddess who shied away from danger or from great trouble. If anything she was perhapes the most cunning and the most devious of the godesses out there, for where she did not strike with blows of fiery retribution, she strove for mercy. Where chaos thrived in the hearts and minds of men and women, she gave comfort and directed them to better ways. Healing their bodies, minds, and souls and hopefully directing them to a better path.

Even now in the lands where she was most worshipped and honored her work was needed, tiring, but needed. Where beastmen and orks attacked the ruined lives she tried to comfort if they lived and escaped...if not she wept for them in tears of blood. Where people flocked to her temples she directed her priestesses and priests to heal and administer to them all that they could give. Even now her most hated foe turned his pestilant gaze to the lands Lileath/The Lady of the Lake claimed yet did no minister properly. Honestly, that elven goddess could at least use her little pretty head for more then dreaming in naïve/manipulative ways. How much stronger could she have been if she had allowed the mortals who fought in her knights armies to honor her more?

How much strength could she have gained if she had attained their loyalty and had given them at least some semblance of survival instincts? Too many knights she had seen walk into her halls either half dead or having to be cut down before their time when they challenged a foe far greater then they were and did it in the most ridiculous ways possible. Also what was this about no ranged weaponry? She had known that the knights were for all they sprouted...well...some words should not be said in polite company (dammit Ranald...) but even the knight orders in the empire knew when they needed at least a javalin or a few heavy bows to take down beasts far to great for them to fight in close combat.

Shylla sighed as she rested for a moment in her dove form in a clearing of a glaive in the realm of bretonnia...she would need her strength when the rot-tide came to help stave off the worst of what was to come...yet when she had but rested for a few moments great crashing noises came, alarmed she looked around and came upon both a thrilling, terrifying, and horrifying sight all in one.

A Emperor Dragon, wreathed in Ice groaned as it chilled the air and ground around it, slowly it stalked into the clearing, missing an eye and with numerous wounds upon its body. As well as frozen and iced over Gore and Blood covering its Maw, Claws, and Tail. The Great Beast walk until it was in the middle of the clearing, as after casting a spell and judging there to be no hostile intent nearby, collapsed on his uninjured side as it began to tend to its wounds.

Shyla was no violent goddess...but she was not one to turn away even the most horrible of things that were harmed if they truly wished to be cured of their ailments...even mutants she took into her arms and healed them as much as she could from the malignant touch of the Arch-Enemy. And so with gathered courage the dove/avatar of Shylla flew to the colossal beast, and began to examine its form.

It took a few minutes, but after judging which wounds needed the most tending to she landed near the opening and began to peck at certain little spots she saw around the injury. At first nothing happened, but slowly and surely the beast began to notice the curious little bird that was pecking at its form. While irritating it was not truly hurting it...untill it dove its head into the largest of his injuries and began to peck at the inside of it.

With a cry of rage and pain the dragon prepared to freeze the little bird and shatter it into splinters before it noticed it had begun to carefully and quickly pull out some kind of...malignant...tumor or worm of sort. Examining it thoroughly the dragon was disgusted to see it was a horrific parasite of a poison and tumor mixed as one, no doubt some kind of enchantment of the Evil Beasts had placed upon their blades. The dragon kept its breath weapon readied as it examined now more closely at what the curious little bird was doing...and now that the Emperor Dragon of Ice could look closure...there was something quite off about this little bird. Something almost...Divine...

Something it had only heard of its few victims in the past when they had tried to take its hoard in olden days...

"Little Shylla" the dragon whispered under its breath as it began to use its magical sight to examine exactly what the dove was doing, until at least the tumor/parasite was pulled free and quickly pinched/crushed under her little beaks touch...the dragon had been confused for but a moment, baffled at the sight of a seemingly non-violent godess tearing a enity to pieces...until a quick look with the light of Hysh revealed the truth. The tumor/parasite was the representative of warp corruption, even if his magic could have taken care of it, it would have scarred that area, weakening his scaled armor for future attacks...

A deep foreboding shudder ran down the dragons spine as it remember the fallen one...and another mutter escaped its maw...

"Chew, never Swallow...remember Galrauch..." the emperor dragon rumbled as it began to lay still and allow the bird to do its work, pecking, cleaning, and crying little tears of blood and water into his wounds...soothing old aches he could not remember having, nor watch in amazement as scales mended as splendent as they had been in perhaps centuries ago.

The Emperor Ice Dragon watched slowly and with careful claw allowed the dove when it noticed to hop onto his claw as he brought it to his face to examine it more closely...

"So you are Shylla..." the Dragon Rumbled out as the little dove tittered and chirped in afirment.

"I see, i supposed i shall be having to reward you for this service then..." the Dragon Muttered as it turned its head to the side before the bird began chirping in protest.

"What do you mean 'i Cannot accept such a thing!'?!?" The Dragon recoiled as it turned its gaze back to the brave little bird who chirped again.

"I have met Men, Elves, Dwarves, and other beasts and creatures, all cowered and begged before me, treated me in manners either by blade or by word...even elven lords of old knew to deal with me fairly...but you...you cannot accept a single boon that i could grant you?!?" The dragon ranted as he brought the bird closer to his eye.

"Why?!?" The Dragon Demanded as he looked imperially at the bird before him, who with the gaze of a healer having enough of their patients shit began to titter and whistle and chirp in exact, firm, and uncompromising tone began to lecture the colossal dragon who merely could not help but admire the Brave, foolish, and possibly insane little divine bird.

Then the Darkness rose within the sky brining a end to the little birds ranting. The dragon and bird turned to watch the pillar of darkness rise...and in it hanging from the sky was the largest beast of all time...

"Father..." the Emperor Dragon of Ice whispered with almost joy and awe while the bird just looked at the enormous being...before going back to to tittering at the Ice Dragon for being a Bad Paitent.

The dragon was unsure what to do, for one claw its father had returned...the father of all dragons had risen once more! Yet on the other hand it couldn't help but want to recoil like a chastised hatchling in their mothers nesting hoard for playing near dangerous magical artifacts again, and he couldn't tell what was worse...the fact that he could not leave to his fathers side until the little bird gave her price for healing him and sparing him from a fate worse then death, or the little lectures the bird was doing about bedside etiquette and how he should be taking greater care of himself.

And to be honest to himself, the little bird certainly had its priorities in order...he just knew without using the Light of Hysh and Heavenly Azyr that the little bird would be flipping in the air about the rise of his father, but for now it was distracting itself to keep its patient alive and well.

After about almost what felt like days but was only a half hour the little bird finally ran our of chirps and twitters to throw at him as the dragon reclined and tried to rest even as the bird continued to talk to the dragon as it worked and ranted about his "Poor Health-care".

"Very well then, i think i shall be coming with you little bird." the Dragon decided aloud as the bird stopped what it was doing and LOOKED with all the imperial authority of that of a healing being denied on WHY the patient should not being doing something so ridiculous.

"Your going to need a gaurdian, and i need to repay the debt so that i may face my father again with pride of my deeds...what greater one then to repay a goddess from a favor to a favor yes? Then let us be off little bird...i think we shall be in for the grandest of journeys yet!" the Dragon chuckled/rumbled aloud as the bird began to protest as he began to get up and move to someplace else.

"Then you best guide me little bird, for I'm NOT letting you out my sight so easily now that I have a debt to pay." The Dragon Emperor of Ice Rumbled as the iced clearing slowly began to warm up again as the frozen trees began to exhibit life once more and winter began to pass.

If one were to listen and feel the winds in bretonnia, one could Feel the ice chill of the highest peaks of the world and the soft touch of the wings of a dove upon their skin, and hear the tittering of a little dove and the rumbling laughter of a Dragon as they began a quite strange journey ahead...and with the barest of a gaze they were being watched by the Dracul/Aleksander...the Father of Dragons.

heres two reactions to Dracul/Aleksander's ascension...not to spoil anything but...well the lady gets called out by some old ass dragons with a nasty little plan to humiliate her while a certain little dove bullies a Emperor Dragon into submission.