None marked the strange eyes that watched them, following their journey. Held fast in their icy prisons, however, they were unable to fall upon their own kind. Somehow, Torglug had been given new life, Reforged as a pure-bodied servant of Sigmar. With a shout they arrowed as one towards Archaon.
The newly arrived foes were already wreaking havoc amongst the clanrats, and the warlord could see skaven banners topple or flee as the duardin line advanced. That land was already scorched by the fires of war.
Although she had expected Lord Harkdron to fail, the vampire queen was startled with the speed with which the enemy had broken through his defences. New photos, plus everything we learned from the Vanity Fair preview.
It marked the beginning of the Realmgate Wars. The Varanguard be held these godly fetters, each link the size of an Infernal Realmfort, and saw their opportunity. Even the winds that sweep the Mortal Realms must end their journey, and whether by defiant last gust or whispering final sigh, all expire in Shyish. Laying plots of his own, cossacks 2 Zyrrak sparked a hundred wars across Infernia to draw the gaze of the slann.
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The scattered hosts of the hill clans surged forwards, bringing red vengeance to the remainder of the brayherds that had usurped their lands. Slaves toiled beneath daemon lashes. With wordless efficiency theStormcasts eradicated their victimsbefore redressing their ranks andbeginning the advance. Weapon teams prowled in their midst, sending gas globes arcing upwards or spraying out bursts of warpstone bullets.
When spiralling portals of purple unlight opened across the crescent isle to disgorge the daemon hosts of Orb Infernia, the Fyreslayer attack swiftly turned into a rout. Though they knew it not, a distant Lord-Relictor had reversed the course of their destiny. Dorghar tore the first Stardrake from the skies in a welter of blood. Lightning hammers were raised high, corposant energy crackling atop them, before being brought down with pulverising force.
Seeing choice prey, Skarbrand hacked and stomped a crimson path to intercept the glorious few as they forged ever higher. Then the skaven forces lurked close by, eager to take advantage of the inevitable battle.
In the streets below, the Daemonettesparted ranks, allowing sinister chariotsto pass through. Before them, the Chaos forces began to fall. Finally, Guron Bloodfist vanquished the skink raiders of Issthyss. This was the key, Zyrrak realised.
Though the duardin held out far longer than any had a right to expect, the fyrds were rooted out from their ancient strongholds and put to the sword. Not a single Stormcast Eternal heard his words, yet the Tempest above answered with a peal of thunder. Prosecutors lifted high above the pass, soaring upwards to engage the jezzail teams. So total was the devastation that the tribes that wandered the Fireplains had lost all memory of the grandeur of their former kingdom, knowing it only as the nameless ruins of some past existence. The onslaught slowed not at all.
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Across the ruins of Nulahmia, the battle raged. If the maverick Runesmiter had been caught he would have been sentenced to drowning in vitriol within the hour. He placed the great rune, hammering it home with gusto, and let go. The Scabrous Sprawl was once theHarmonis Veldt, a lush continentaltract that sang with raw life force.
At last, they saw the vampirequeen, for she sat atop an osseous steedperched on a broken rampart halfwayup the hill. On the day the two forces clashed, the bloodshed was so intense the air filled with crimson mist. At their head rode Lord-CelestantMakvar upon his noble Dracoth.
And still the Varanguard could not be everywhere at once. With Ghal Maraz, the Celestant-Prime pointed at Valkia, drifting towards her with eerie majesty as his Prosecutors charged to attack. Instead, the Knights-Heraldor of the Stormhosts sounded the clarion call to charge. Here and there were outlandish bone-wrought monuments raised to honour the brutal god of battle.
Bloodkeep had long been the seat of rule for kings, tyrants and daemonlords. Based on the triumphal roars from the distance, there were other, even larger predators hunting the Valley of Skulls. The ensuing storm banished the daemons in clouds of ectoplasm wherever it struck home. Before the gates stood the Crimson Guard, elite Skullreapers that had fought their way to that honoured position.
With the pulses of anger that drove the tribes of the Flameworlds into a defiant frenzy, the Solar Drake chained above the Ashlands had flared brighter than ever. The Runefather agreed that the Fyreslayers could even forge a path underneath that stronghold, bypassing the outer fortress walls. Only the Asphyxians, who had appeared so weak, were left entirely untouched.
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Though the wars unfolding across this landscape were battles of physical strength and endurance, the most insidious of threats was all but invisible. Still the winches ground on. Cryptborn mustered the storm-spirits with a thought and flung them into the enemy, but the violence only spurred the Skullfiends on.
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