The news of the approaching worm has set the Argharock Dominion aflame with war, intrigue, and above all else, movement. As the denizens of Nassolotyl turned their collective head towards a new opportunity, so too did those that had been forced into the wilds, the mountains, and the caves of Nasson and Neolotl. Opportunities are the very breath of the hunter, the predator, and here in Ghur, all predatorial.
Beliana, with the help of her city leadership, was quick to realise that the worm needed as much protection prior to it arriving as it did while it was being mounted. The Sons of Bugman AEC were able to hold back (to varying degrees of success) the advances of all manner of Orruk, Grot, and spider to allow the meeting between the Vurm-tai nomads and the Phantasm Aelves sent from Lady Fauncrest. Although the words spoken between the two parties now spread throughout the forces of order, the locals of the Forest of Gorch were not all defeated. The eyes of the various grots that even now stand atop the tallest of the trees, looking into the distance at the worm receding from their home, gleam with the knowledge that their infection spreads. Climbing the outside of the creature and delving deep into her crags, caves, and crevices they begin their webbed endeavours anew.
As these relatively far-off adventures were getting off the ground, the forces atop our two god-beasts were starting to move with urgency, and even as Beliana was receiving her reports from the Vurm-tai, the ground beneath her tower on Nasson shook with the impact of war. It had begun, and it began as one would expect; with the forces of Chaos making yet another attack in their never-ending desire to bring low all that is good and pure. With Beliana’s forces spread so thin, the warband known as the Purple Serpent soon gained access to the city on Nasson, seeping into the city and ravaging the more well-to-do areas of the city before their onslaught was cordoned off. It is a small and tenuous foothold, but a foothold in the city nonetheless. Partly why this was even possible was because of the metaliths themselves, with forces being sent to defend them instead these sections of the city were basically sacrificed. But the sacrifice was worth it, as the metaliths were kept safe from both the dark gods and the warclans of Bristlewhakka. Each of the metaliths now sits floating above the city, manned well by the city and her allies, ready for the worm that can now be seen on the horizon as a plume of dust and smoke.
Although Nasson felt the attacks by the enemies of order, it was Neolotl that really felt the effects of upheaval atop his normally stable back. Old Viggo and his lads have been terrorizing the outer sections of Neolotl, and drew the eyes of the Stormcast that defend that half of the city. The altercation finally came to a head, and Viggo’s stomp smashed the ‘shiney-boyz’ back to where they belong. This drawing away from the city by the forces of Nassolotyl was not good for the city in the least. Orruk, Ogor, Grot and Greenskin, began pouring through tunnels unknown and uncountable; flowing like a tide over hidden bands of Beastmen, Skaven, and other secrets beneath the city, beneath the walls, and through the meagre defences. Bristlewhakka had struck, and struck hard. With the two god-beasts separated, those on Nasson looked on in horror as first smoke, then flame, then emergency vessels rose into the skies above the city on Neolotl.
This has left the wilds and mountains largely un-inhabited though. And even as Bristlewhakka stands outside the walls of a city besieged, his back is exposed to the dark threat growing within the mountains. Drekazra may be quiet, but his shadow looms large, and the warclans are not one to understand (nor care to be fair) whether or not they are conquerors, or simply the battering ram in the hands of those with more sense.
This short story is the second Act of the Vurm-tai Campaign. It is intended as an overview, and to be read in tandem with the various Quests that can be found in the Quest board that have been made specifically for the Campaign.
– The Weaver
