As the Starborne march across the continent of Rondhol, war slowly coalesces into distinct areas of pitched battle. Whether mortals fight within the vaulted ceilings of political arenas, strike at each other under the cover of a darkened sky, or navigate treacherous environments while under fire, they all seek to dominate, to rule, to dictate their own fate. These efforts are futile. The dreams of the frail—whether they be orruk, man, aelf, wight, or some other such creature—mean nothing to the soul of a continent. Revenge will arrive soon. Those that seek to avoid retribution do so at their own peril, for once Rondhol has been set free of its golden chains, its animus will wreck all those that deem to walk freely on its soil.
One such mortal, one that would dictate not only her own fate, but any she deems beneath her, is Sorrah Nikos. As she stands behind the arcane window, she is able to see the extent of her little kingdom – the lens built into the silver tower enabling her supernatural ability to see beyond her mortal eyes.
“All goes well,” she says to the tower’s master, who sits atop a shifting throne behind her, “regardless of your partial failure in eliminating those lizards.”
“Do not speak as if you understand the workings of those far above you, my ephemeral… friend. You have been given assistance well beyond your station—be grateful of your allegiances and that our plans are allied at this time.”
“True,” she replies, turning from the window to look at the Gaunt Summoner, “but our aligned goals would not help my cause in-of-themselves, and you know that. It is our shared master that pulls at your strings, for my benefit more-so than yours.”
”You may tell yourself whatever you need to, little follower. I will not stop your own mind from twisting and turning to see itself in the light in which it wishes to be seen.”
Sorrah grinds her teeth as she holds her tongue. One day, she knew she would rule over beings such as these… but that had not come to pass, yet.
“I have not come simply to exchange barbed words, regardless of the joy I find in them,” she eventually comments, “was the goal accomplished, or not?”
“It was.”
Sorrah stares into the Summoners eyes, searching for any hint of deception. “The way has been made clear? Access to the amber blood has been made possible? Are you positive?”
“Of course.”
Sorrah inclines her head. “And why, pray tell, do you deem it adequate that the wound be created within that wretched Dell? It would have been significantly easier had you crashed the ship even remotely close to Civilia. Yet you seem to be perfectly alright with this scenario?”
”My child,” the summoner says, standing, “regardless of how you view the world, I must insist that you remember that you do not control my own actions . You barely understand what you do, let alone comprehend all that I work towards.”
With that, the creature lifts a single finger and places it on Nikos’ temple. “It is time you got going little mortal. The race has only just begun. I’d hate for you to miss the prize simply because you could not draw away from the pleasure of my company.”
Nikos disappears, back to her flooded ruins, back to her little kingdom.
Da Choppas have continued their march through Rondhol. Considering it their holy mission to trash any trace of civilisation they find and whipping up any greenskins slacking off in their warmaking along their path, they have slowly made their way from the north of the continent down towards Lendu. By sending out his Daggboyz, Ka-rokk has successfully convinced a number of factions throughout the land to move southward. This included tricking a huge amount of gargants to move along the Bitingsea, convincing ogors (including those on the Bloodspike Peak) to move off of their standard hunting grounds, and influencing the grots from Lake Retch to attack Brinnock. But even though this horde, The Great Stomp, continues towards Everquake City, Ka-rokk has deemed it advantageous to defend the movement from the rear. To this end, he leaves bosses Razgor, Borga, Dargaz, Urgoth, and Durbok, among others, to secure strategic positions, including The Gaping Portal, a temple-raft fortress on the back of a gargantuan gharial, and the Furyoth Dell. This is on top of other fights they’ve gotten themselves into, including krumpin’ in Civilia’s Ruin, the possible attack on Brinnock, and continued scraps on the Bitingsea.
The Gaping Portal as well as the River Att has been host to a number of conflicts of late, particularly between Da Choppas and their allies and those that follow Khrovar Blackmaw and the Dark Gods. Resembling a vast megalodon’s jaws, the realmgate spews forth a constant cascade of water that crashes into the River Att. Connected to Bantu’s Gate in southern Gallet, the portal is a strategically important area within the land, providing a way to connect the two continents and allowing for the transportation of both goods and personnel. That said, it was still surprising to most when the Seraphon of the Xarlanth starting opening fire on the gate. Kronol Scarmonger, leader of the Steel Fangs has been seen pushing yet again, against groups of orruks throughout the region, including Da Realmhuntaz lead by Razgor Beastbreaka. It was during one of these mighty clashes that iridescent streaks crossed overhead, crashing into the gate itself. Both groups came to a literal standstill for a heartbeat as the explosive rounds blasted the gate and the surrounding area. Massive explosions cascaded around the gate as pearlescent Seraphon magics fought against the ancient magic of the realmgate, while the air surrounding the portal ignited, sending out a burst of energy that shattered the eardrums of anyone within a mile. The winds that rushed into the vacuum brought the smell of burnt metal and bark drifting down the rapids as creatures both above ground and within the waters were set aflame by arcane blazes.
And so Rondhol responded as only a continent can—violently and without mercy. Ghurish magic burst from the green rivers and flashed the orruk tribes into a frenzy that destroyed everything within reach. Razgor had actually sent a troggoth ally, Big ‘Un, to contest with the Seraphon, and so orruk, grot and troggoth alike flew at the cannons that were still standing. Any semblance of planning—of which there was barely any to begin with—was forgotten, as Waaagh! energy arced from axe to hammer, eye to eye, bursting between the individuals of the group, pulling them together into a crackling fist that annihilated the lizardmen and their weaponry. As the cannons were set conflagrant, they disintegrated anyone nearby, leaving only a crater as evidence that anything had happened. Orruk, Seraphon, grot, tree, and troggoth disappeared from the face of Ghur as the realm attacked those that sought it harm.
At the gate itself, Rondhol went on the defensive rather than the offensive. The nearby Sylvaneth, including those lead by the new Brashbriar matriarch, went into a fury unmatched even by Da Great Stomp. They brought to life the forest itself, igniting the usually ponderous souls of nearby flora into a march that took up the mighty task of holding the realmgate together – as it was now sinking slowly into the rapids and inclined, charred landscape. Unfortunately for those living creatures nearby, whether they be surprised animal, or horrified human, orruk, or grot, the forest did not care for anything but saving the land. Tree limbs, vines, and root grabbed at anything that made use of bone, skin, hair, and fur and tore it asunder. The remnants of these unfortunate souls were then used in conjunction with root and sap to form great arcs of flesh, bone, and bark that held the gate from sliding further. Amber fluid flowed up through the ground then, hardening the horrific structures into a dreadful memorial of those that had given their lives to the land, whether by choice or by force.
As the dust settled, those orruks left dazed, very hungry, yet alive stared at the Gaping Portal as a land stitched itself back together. Why the Seraphon had attempted the destruction was known only to their leaders, but the gate had survived and its rapids now reflected only the clear, Rondholian sky again, along with the new gory amber arcs that crosshatched the gate’s outer edges.
As seen from above, Civilia’s Ruin resembled an opalescent meteor shower. Stars reflected in the flooded waters, as torchlight betrayed those who slunk through the ruins and flaming arrows streaked across the darkened vestiges of the city.
The Xarlanthian Seraphon, having recently allied with the Wardens of Burden, have been assaulting the city through the use of tactical guerilla warfare, striking whenever possible. Although clear now that Khardhir itself had begun to move towards Furyoth Dell, the Wardens have seemingly refused to let the forces of Chaos enjoy their triumph, cutting down warband after warband as they move in and out of the ruins.
Although they had some success, particularly in rescuing small numbers of prisoners and slaying incalculable amounts of Skaven, it became increasingly clear that Nikos’ hold on the area was strong indeed – only a concerted siege was likely to change the situation, something that both the seraphon and the Wardens were not able to accomplish. Over the course of their scouting, though, seraphon infiltrators started to find clues as to some of the changes that had begun to take shape under her leadership; Skaven numbers had been slowly increasing, leading the seraphon to speculate the presence of permanent gnawholes beneath the arcane dome. Worryingly, a faction that the scouts began to see time and time again were the followers of Khrovar Blackmaw. With a working harbour, access to food, other supplies, and workers, Sorrah Nikos had successfully dug into Civilia’s Ruin, transforming it into her own image. An unholy agreement between Nikos, and the likes of Blackmaw and Twicesworn had clearly formed.
What was less clear, to those outside her inner circle at least, was what Sorrah was actually doing. Although her small domain grew in number, spies within the city confirmed that her lieutenants and their followers, including, though certainly not limited to, Skarra Spinebreaker, Ratcyst Gall, and the aforementioned Tana Twiceborn, had in fact vacated the Ruins. Speculation continues to run rampant, but the most likely candidate seems to be Furyoth Dell. To what end though, is still very much unclear. What Sorrah now needs from the Dell, if anything, or why she has sent out her forces to the area is a very real concern amongst her enemies – for whatever those reasons may be, they cannot be good for the mortals of Rondhol.
Khardihr hung in the sky overlooking a vast forested land as the beasts far belong bellowed out challenges to the new threat that caused the vast shadow to fall on their territories. It hung stationary because, yet again, those that dictated its movements had come to a standstill. The Council of Khardhir had fallen into disarray. The House of Vermillio had been aggressively pursuing any that stood in their way of controlling the city in the manner they deemed fit. Goods, and thus profit, from the Svlind may have been moving more easily again, but the family had been thwarted within their own home, and had not taken lightly to the threats. There was blood on the streets, while words were used as weapons within the Council itself. It was because of the Family’s actions that the city had been moving at a slower pace, as they continually put up roadblocks for the College of Engineers. Navra ven Alcassar, currently the headmistress of the College, had been calling for ever-increasingly harsh measures put on anyone that would stall the city’s advance towards the Dell, calling for both the the Navigators Guild and other influential members of the Council to “do what must be done”.
Unfortunately for Navra and the rest of the city that deemed Furyoth Dell a good location to settle, that very same Navigators Guild have recently turned on the College. Melchad Hawkcaller, Guildmaster of the Navigators Guild, has recently fought hard against the new heading – forcing the Navigators to cease work on moving the metalith-city. Excuses seem unrestrained – ranging from the security of his workers to the routes of enemy armies, even going so far as to cast doubt on the weather and aethermantic currents. Rumours have been running rampant on the streets of Khardhir – claiming everything from him being a traitor to Hawkcaller being a secret vampire in bed with the Vermillio Family. But few of these rumours really hold much weight in the Council itself, as Melchad is as likely to resist actions from the Family as he is from any other party, and also continues to pay his workers (out of his own pockets, no less) regardless of their current level of work.
Regardless, the city now floats on the cusp of the Dell, and isn’t going anywhere anytime soon as it continues to debate within the halls of its top leaders. But the people of the Free City are not the kind of people to sit idly by. After all, their city now sits right at the edge of the very location that started all of this to begin with! Explorers, treasure seekers, and other leaders have been slowly departing the city, adventuring out into the wilds of Furyoth Dell and the surrounding areas.
To be continued…
