Ship’s Log of Enskeri Runesworn, Grumblefleet Admiral and Cartographer
Log Entry 234: The Metallic Caverns, near the Vexshik Spire
The Vexshik Spire looms before us, its machinations grinding endlessly. This spire does not just change the environment—it commands it. The Metallic Caverns are in constant flux; metals warp, shift, and ignite with unnatural flames, forcing us to keep our distance. Every step closer feels like an invitation to disaster.
Our crew spotted a fierce battle below, near the entrance to the caverns. The Templars of Our Burning Saviour, also well-known at this point, are being led by some sort of two-headed abomination, engaged with a Gravelords warband. Vampires, skeletal warriors, and more unnatural creatures clashed against the Templars, but they did not fight alone. Duardin, Fyreslayers by their looks, fought beside them with brutal efficiency.
This was a moment of revelation. Our cousins are well-known as mercenaries, but allying with such chaotic beasts!? It’s… unconscionable! Whatever is driving them to act in this way must be heavy indeed. The only thing that comes to mind at this time is that they may be survivors of that ancient Karvul Lodge. It would explain much, but their alliance with these strange Templars raises more questions than it answers.
The battle ended with the Templars and Fyreslayers victorious. Our fleet will keep a close watch on their movements – perhaps the key to understanding the Karvul’s fate lies ahead.
Log Entry 237: The Ash Storms, near the Lasretat Spire
The Ash Storms are relentless, battering our hull as we near the Ulgu Realmgate. These lands, seemingly once covered in lush forests, are now lifeless wastelands. All we see below are swirling shadows and the occasional flicker of movement among the ash dunes.
Strange figures moved through the storm—a party of undead. One of our scopes focused on a mounted figure, clad in ancient armor – a Wight King, likely sent by his dread masters to track down something—or someone.
A single one of my Duardin has stated, under oath, that she saw Skaven prowling after the undead, those of the Eshin Clan no doubt. I say let them be! Whether the dead or the craven win the day is irrelevant, as long as they slay as much of each other as possible!
The spire here, Lasretat, is shrouded in darkness and trickery. It is clear that while the spire stands, these ash storms will rage on, a permanent blight upon the land. We have seen enough to know this is a place we’ll need to return to with greater force.
Log Entry 245: The Shining Plateaus, near the Cithrik Spire
Our fleet’s passage over the Shining Plateaus reveals more than just the blinding, radiant light of Hysh. Below us, the ground is scorched and cracked, and strange shimmering heatwaves distort the horizon. Large runes can be seen from this altitude, seemingly baked into the earth itself, almost like they’re pouring out of the mountain that plays host to the realmgate nearby. From the sky, we could make out a host of undead warriors, animated by the foul energies of Nagash. However, among the melee, we observed a golden-armored warrior, leading a charge against the undead hordes.
We already know of Knight-Draconis Torvair, leader of this particular group of the Eternals. Though she was a sight to behold while in combat with the dead, our scopes showed her determined gaze fixed toward the spire – the dead are simply in the way. The structure seems to grow more formidable by the day. If we had the chance I wouldn’t mind laying with the likes of Torvair to pull that Spire down, alas, now is not the time, perhaps an alliance can be struck should our paths cross in the future.
Log Entry 246: Closer to the Cithrik Spire
We continue our reconnaissance, charting the spire’s growing influence. The air crackles with energy, warping both terrain and mind. Near its heart, we encountered a Skaven warband led by none other than Skreelin Gnawdoom, infamous in her own right, and last seen leaving the Ash Storms. This spire has become a battlefield of ambitions.
Our fleet was tempted to open fire, but the cursed Skaven scuttled off, no doubt plotting their next move. Wherever they go, ruin follows.
Log Entry 251: The Red Forest, near the Slekit Spire
We’ve reached the Red Forest, a jungle fed by molten earth, where trees grow thick with magma veins. The influence of Ghyran is apparent here, a place teeming with unnatural vitality. Yet, pestilence also lingers in the air. Slekit Spire, from a distance, has twisted this land into something grotesque, with Clan Pestilins’ foul alchemy warping the once-lush surroundings.
We observed a vicious skirmish between a Darkoath tribe and a band of ravenous Ogor Gorgers. The Darkoath, led by some sort of warrior queen, fought bravely in the face of the Ogors’ brute strength. For followers of Chaos at least. The land itself seems to rebel against everyone down there, as the spire’s corrupting influence festers in every root and vine.
Before we could turn back, something unexpected happened. At the edge of the forest, a small warband of Duardin appeared, their red hair braided and woven with gold, wielding enormous golden axes. They held aloft a banner – an ancient rune of peace among the Duardin, and clearly bore the marks of the Karvul Lodge
I immediately sent word to the fleet to hold position. Their leader stepped forward and, with a voice like thunder, requested an audience. They are asking to board our ship.
I never thought we’d live to see this day. If these are truly survivors of Karvul Lodge, then everything we thought about the ancient Duardin has changed.
We will meet them.
The Grumblefleet will remember this day.