Since the Necroquake, or what the Kharadron call the Garaktormun (the Great Gale of Death), rumours of ancient storm vaults being found has sent adventurers, or whole armies, in search of them. Now, one of these has been found in the lands of Argetoria. The invading army finds the Stormvault hidden below a massive long-forgotten tomb. Being unable to resist the temptation of what could well be great artefacts of power, riches, or at the very least glory, the army sends in scouts to investigate.
As the scouts enter the hidden depths, they find it seemingly empty, pitch black, and as silent as death. As the small group moves further and further into the vast tomb, they eventually find themselves at a dead-end, with nothing to be seen but a small lever to pull. And pull it they do. The cavern shakes for a brief moment then stops. The dust settles and it’s quiet, too quiet. The wall begins to fall away and some of the floor begins to fall away with it. As a torch falls off the edge, darkness itself seems to put the flame out as it drops for what seems far, far too long. But, those that have found this ancient place are warriors, and a fierce warrior is not afraid of anything. So they had stood at the ready and listened to the silence for a sign of any threat.
And then the mist came.
The mist cast a silver glow through the cavern as it rose through the depths, and followed the men as they ran from the tomb. It billowed out into the sunset light and swarmed over the ancient site, setting it ablaze in a sterling light that hurt the eyes of all those that looked upon it. And then, through that blaze, a figure stepped out, standing before a blurring object of power, pouring out that mist that now spread across the army and as far as the eye could see.
Renius Lazarra has returned to Argetoria. And he is not alone. A silver host has poured out of the tomb, argent hosts of Tzaangor, Daemon, and plated men now march the lands, travelling vast distances through the mist that has enveloped the area. Rolling banks of the mist drift across Agratoria, shrouding its valleys and rust-barked forests in a chemical haze. Those who wander these mists for too long soon find their minds aflame with thoughts of ambition and primacy; even the most trusted allies will eventually turn on one another under the malign influence of Renius Lazarra’s cursed device, the Whisper Engine.
Those that first tasted iron blood, spilt by this Tzeenchian threat are the defenders of the Fluxspire. A lightning-fast ambush, those defenders not killed were left bewildered, insane even, by the sheer absurdity of the surgical strike that hit the spire. The invaders seemed to stride through the very walls, bend hallways to their will, and walk upon the walls as if gravity herself had given up her never-ending logic. And, as fast as they had come, they disappeared. Emptying the Fluxspire of but a single artefact, kept in her vaults and hidden away since ages past.
