With the Key of Night in hand and the Desert Lords mustered around him, Vladan lead his new forces north. They were on their way to the Yhorn Mountains, where he would find the second Key, and that much closer to getting home and getting revenge on the Chaos forces that had forced his exit. As the army had traveled, they had scoured the land as they went, villages were emptied for his ghouls to feast on. He detested those who followed him. The desert lords claimed that unless they fed, the army would eventually fall away, but the Lords thought they were simply visiting inns and entertaining the village people, not butchering every last living thing in sight. He needed them, and if he was being honest, he thought that their delusional honour would make it impossible to leave regardless. But it was still a chore, and grated him to know end, the unnecessary destruction and the stupidity. They were fools.
Eventually, they had come up to a river, and following it north came upon Scrappa Spill. The city sprawled out below as he stood with his regents around him, waiting for his orders. The city was not beautiful even in the slightest, it’s buildings were made of enumerable resources and built with no architecture in mind. The streets seemed to occur simply because some of the buildings happened to have a gap in-between them, and even from afar he could see a range of races moving about, squads of men, duardin, elves, and even orruks. When he saw the latter of those, his hackles rose in anger, he despised those dirty good-for-nothing greenskins.
His spy came drifting up the dune and fell kneeling at his feet. His voice seemed to echo in Vladan’s mind, even though the geist’s mouth moved in a way that did not match the voice.
“Sire, I have the information you seek.
Scrappa Spill is most certainly defended. They know that our forces have arrived, and even now they begin the process of guarding their walls and gates.”
“I can see that imbecile…” He said to the spirit “tell me something I don’t know”
“The city does seem to be in turmoil sire. A number of buildings are burnt out, families roam the streets homeless and wide-eyed. It seems awhile ago something ill happened to them. They play some sort of blood-sport down there, something went amiss, and ever since then the city’s workers and defenders have poured into the building, dying in droves, and driving the city into poverty and uselessness.”
“Sire,” one of the arch-regents cut in beside Vladan, “We cannot stand idly by while these poor men and women suffer the fate that has befallen them. Allow my men to bring them the help that they need. We can give them a chance to regain their honour, and rise again as a prosperous nation!”
Vladan groaned to himself. What the regent wanted was to descend into the city and butcher the lot of them.
“No, we don’t have the time for this, we must make it to the mountains, getting stuck here for days simply won’t work.”nn”Sire, please, I implore you. Those men and women need our help!? How can we simply leave them to the wolves out here? How can you turn your back on them?”
Vladan rolled his eyes.
“Allow me sire to go down alone then. A small retinue, just to feed- uh, them, and then we shall catch up to the main force afterward. It will not take long, and it would be a great honour for my men and I…”