Disaster has come to the shores of Capilaria. Dawnbringer settlements and sea routes have collapsed due to the threat of the Charohydra, the legendary scourge of Aspiria.
Escaped from its runemarked cage in the stormvault beneath Hammerhal Aqsha, the Cloister of Ashes, it has devastated homesteads and ships by the hundreds, between periods of calm where it disappeared beneath the waves.
And with disaster, came opportunity…
The Chaos Fleet of Morros Plaguewind, rounding up mercenaries from the Clavis Isles and beyond to join them in the plunder. Calling their rag tag alliance the Ravenous Rift Ravagers, they led several attacks to sack the developing Dawnbringer towns of Kismet and Lymeport, as well as mounting an assault on Fort Denst itself.
The local garrisons resisted for a time, but they soon hit their limit…
The Golden Lions of Hammerhal Aqsha do not boast a illustrious history, nor a glorious battle to which they tie their namesake, but they are best known for making due. And in the depths of carnage and violence of the plains of Aqshy’s savage landscape, often a hero amongst them will emerge to lead a final charge or daring defense. Porto Felliscue doubted that it would even be him: after all, he was just a horse thief from the Drudges, as his captain loved to remind him. That conniving officer would be one to talk, even though he rode “the fastest horse from Capilaria”, which he won in an illegal dice game.
It had been three days on patrol, the high command said that they wanted the waste cleared of skirmishers with the new crusade coming to the Parch, and the sun was about to set just as the company halted. Three full days of patrolling around the sweltering cities’ borders, and not a single breath of word from the scouts or from higher, to call them back. Porto was about ready to take his chances in the wastes. He had just stripped his helmet when his captain’s horse spun with a neigh, it’s ego-filled rider turning in disgust of the soldier’s exhaustion. “How dare you doff your helm before we set camp! When we get to the city, I’ll have you court martia- GYEEAAGH!”
Just as he began to utter the last of his threat, a Drakkfoot spear embedded itself in his breastplate, piercing his lung and shattering his ribs in a blow that stripped him from his saddle in an instant. Drums that Porto could feel in his chest began to beat from a nearby hilltop, and in seconds they were set upon by Greenskinz, their tattoos glowing with intensity of torches and their mouths agape, letting out war cries that could shake stone. All around him, his unit began to fight with the efficiency of a startled sheep, axes hewing men from shoulder to hip and spears holding aloft comrades he had grown close with. The fear, the fear alone gave Porto the courage to find a way to stop the madness, and so he did what he knew best: stole his late officer’s horse. Warcusp was a flame stallion of the southern fold, and was bred for battle, so no amount of sound nor gore could shake him from a rider, but Porto had never been atop a steed with so much fire, initially tallying into the sands a bit before getting his bearing. He began to call back to his unit, those closest to him, to form a circle, and as the horse reared and stamped, sparks shot from beneath its feet. The few spearmen formed a circle around him and began to keep at bay the orruk who would attempt to repeat upon Porto the same that they had done to the steed’s previous owner. Each charged the line, their chaos and disorganization being their downfall, as they trickled towards them to die upon Freeguild spears.
Then, when hope seemed to be born, it was shunted by the blast of a mighty warhorn, sounded from atop a boar that carried a bone riddled Ork of immense size: the warboss. Striding down the wastes in a mighty charge, the Ork leader made Porto the target of his rage-filled zeal, screaming as he careened towards the line. Porto began to hastily scavenge his saddle, scavenge for anything to halt his advance, and in doing so rose a javelin, marked with the bolt of Sigmar himself. He caught his breath and using his forward hand that bared the reins to aim, he exhaled. Hand guided by a divine light, the hurdling found its mark, striking the boss in the base of the neck, and leaving him dead before his skin touched sand. Seeing their leader cast down so quickly, the horde began to panic, each scurrying in a different direction, leaving nothing but the blowing wind and the sound of his heartbeat to ring in Porto’s ears.
After the adrenaline subsided, and they had counted their dead, the survivors made their way back to the city. Finally, after relaying their report, they were given a proper hero’s welcome. Porto was asked to carry the report to the leader of the incoming crusade, to ensure safe hand-off of information. As he strode towards the Stormrift Centrum, still atop Warcusp, he would find to great surprise the leader of the crusade to be the honored Lord-Commander of the Hammers of Sigmar, Bastian Carthalos. His imposing form and booming voice spoke to the tales that were told in long nights at the tavern, and he found the report most interesting, seeing such a high number of Bonesplitterz near the city concerned him. He asked Porto to come along with him and a detachment that would head out to Fort Denst, as his personal courier, to investigate rumors of a great disaster nearing the shores.
Little did they know that the Stormcast retinue and Freeguild of The Golden Lions would be meeting the Charonhydra, the Doom of Aspiria, and those who follow in its devastation: the Rift Ravager pirates. Undermanned and suspiciously not made aware of the nature of the threat, they set off to the Vitriol Sea aboard the Golden Lions’ warship, the ‘Thundering Reign’.
The clash between the Lord-Commander Carthalos’ “Shield of the Realm” crusade and the Ravagers cut across the peninsulas of Capilaria, with supply routes over the Virgin Peaks and the Caustic Peaks being fought over as well. The Skink Seer, Elder Chuch Guszcon, predicted these strikes and positioned his army successfully to ensure the passes were defended. Helped by Fyreslayer agents, they successfully secured the Virgin Peaks’ signal beacons and sentry towers from the Ravagers’ ogor and vampire mercenaries, as well as the mines in the Caustic Peaks.
Fort Denst itself was breached, with the 58th Mountaineer regiment of Tempest’s Eye, led by Gen. Claus Somms, fighting a retreating battle to hold the portside, through the force of artillery and crossbow fire. An army of Bonereapers affiliated with the Ravagers put much of the Fort to the torch, but not without suffering heavy losses from Vidius Lorenz’s Stormcast Eternals paladin chamber, who managed to hold the line for long enough.
Deep within the walls of the Fort however, Ravager Darkoath infiltrators had managed to surround the intelligence bunker of the Shields’ forces, forcing Cavalry-Sergeant Vancroft to commit to a hurried escape through the town streets with the intelligence they managed to gather… But alas, his escape was diverted and the message intercepted. Fort Denst remained locked in a stalemate, half of it lost to the Ravagers.
The following days, battle reached across the strait, with fast moving warbands sailing at speed to reach the Settled Lands south of the Caustic Peaks. With the volcanic passes defended by star-lizards, and evacuation efforts already underway, the Ravager warbands united to make a gambit and cut off the escape of the civilians at the irrigation fields of Kismet (together with all their valuable possessions, of course).
Thanks to the tactical acumen of Runeson Blacklyff Grimnir, and the Freeguild regiments’ black powder, the Ravagers were kept at bay from the town’s aqualith, long enough for some of the evacuees to board the airship waiting for them at the top… But the defense could not hold, and the airship had to take off prematurely, leaving several civilians and much wealth still in the hands of the Ravagers.
With the waves of the Caustic Sea rising and falling with an alarmingly erratic tide, it was clear the Charonhydra was approaching, awoken from its slumber by the fighting. There wasn’t much time left for the plundering, Capt. Plaguewind thought… But they had grander plans in motion as well, for the giant beast. They had brought with them enough cursed blades of Vekhangra to dominate ten megalofins.
The battle for the commercial hub of Lymeport was bitter and down to the last warrior… The Shatterskull warglutt of Raal the Spiker, ogor sellwords in service of the Ravagers, cut through the port’s market, while sustaining heavy casualties from the Tempest’s Eye regiment. On the hills of Lymeport, the watchtower was taken by surprise as the Ravager pirates surrounded the Hammers of Sigmar and their allies, intent on claiming the head of Blacklyff Grimnir, Runeson of the Fyreslayer warband, and break his follower’s strategic ability and morale. Together with the Hammers of Sigmar, the duardin held the watchtower for an entire day, but eventually the Runeson was severely wounded by one of the Ravager vampires, and after that Lymeport truly and well belonged to the pirates.
It was at this time that the waves parted, and the moment everyone dreaded came to pass. The Charonhydra resurfaced once more.
Both fleets took to the waters just off Fort Denst, where battle was still raging on the streets. On the waves, they surrounded the realmbeast, and each put in motion their plan for the creature. The Ravagers armed their forces with the cursed Blades of Vekhangra, forged in the depths of the Eighpoints and said to have the power to poison and subjugate the mind of even the most feral of monsters. The armies of the Shield of the Realm, however, wanted nothing more than to cripple the Charonhydra, with a wound so grievous that it would take months if not years to recover, forcing it to flee and hopefully learn its lesson.
The battle was vicious and scores were dead before water ever entered their lungs: their forms incinerated by the Charonhydra’s witchfyre breath, and their souls siphoned to feed the beast’s insatiable hunger. The creature regenerated the most grievous wounds, and new heads sprouted even after the previous were cut down.
Warships’ hulls were splintered and the sea was filled with cannonfire, as Morros Plaguewind’s flagship, the Seablister, and its mercenary fleet, closed in on the Golden Lions’ vessel, the Thundering Reign, and its entourage. Planks lowered and pirates running across decks, a vicious battle was fought over the artillery batteries of both these ships.
One after the other, cannon shots teared through the hydra’s heads, and slowly the monster was left open to be attacked from all sides by the armies of both alliances, who jumped onto its back. Large chunks did they carve out of the monster’s flesh, its thick scales and millenia-old corded muscle slowing their advance. Of course, the creeping regenerating of the monster, glutted on the casualties’ souls, definitely did not help.
But eventually, with general Vidius Lorenz’s paladins channeling azyrian lighting, a charred hole into the monster’s organs was revealed. Before the Ravagers could have a chance to capitalize on this exposed weak spot, elder skink Guszcon mobilized his Kroxigors to bound across the monster’s back, and keep the mercenary Ravagers at bay.
The Charonhydra is not dead, but for now, it will not bother the coasts of Aqshy, and nobody will be able to enslave its destructive power.
The conflict over the coasts of Capilaria, and the raids by the Rift Ravagers of Morros Plaguewind, has since subsided due to attrition and the impending arrival of reinforcements from Hammerhal and Vandium. But a big foothold has been achieved for the agents of Chaos in the Settled Lands of the south, and the infiltration of Fort Denst will still take much to fully purge…
