The Swarm of Undead
The Realmgate trip to the Necromancer's Mansion had turned into a gruelling affair for Pieter, Ludvig and Jakob. Cast miles away from Wörtbad by the vagaries of magick, for long days they had travelled and fought countless horrors, hoping to rejoin the Church of Sigmar's Retribution in their cleansing of the Harrowmark. When they finally reached Wortbad, their hearts shrunk with despair. The Deadwalkers attacking them bore the clothes of the Militia and Flagellants, Fängomorder's orruks were running rampant, re-killing the revenants with gusto. Of Lothar, Avram and Friederick there was no sign.
The orruks were advancing in a loose formation, Fängmorder at the centre and a clutch of Deadwalkers shambling through the woods on their right flank.
Realising their only hope was to go back to Venythia and return with reinforcements, Pieter order his fellows to abandon the search for survivors and make it for the Haunted Gate.
As the Deadwalkers grasped for the orruk shaman and his grot attendant, Fängmorder and the boyz moved to intercept the Witch Hunters.
Ludvig and Jakob advanced swiftly, the Haunted Gate almost within their reach. Pieter, on the other hand, had to tread carefully as more Deadwalkers emerged from the Rose & Scythe Inn and shambled towards him.
Fängmorder advanced into the graveyard and spotted Jakob through the swirling energies of the Gate.
The Black Orcs smashed through the Deadwalkers that had assaulted the shaman and now advanced towards Pieter.
Ludvig unloaded both his pistols point blank into the crossbow boyz, swiftly turned them and started clubbing the orruks with their reinforced buts.
Jakob levelled his pistol at the incoming orruk warboss and let loose a shot. Then his rapier barely stopped the orruk's hammer.
Surrounded by Deadwalkers, all Pieter could do was felling as much as he could before the Black Orcs were over him.
Through the din of combat and their muttered prayers to Sigmar, a voice as dry as the desert's sands of a long lost world sounded into the three Witch Hunters' heads.
Were you looking for me? it mocked Well...are you ready to serve me now?
Cut Off the Head
As soon as the mist that had been the Necromancer disappeared in the distance, men and orruks alike started to turn into Deadwalkers even before they were killed. Lothar ordered a retreat and look for shelter in the Forest of Tears. There, defended by his dwindling retinue, he studied the tome uncovered by Friederik and found the solution. The blood of heroes can lift the curse. He offered some of his to stem it, at least temporarily. He needed more, however, and he was determined to have it from Fängmorder.
The Church marched out of the Forest of Tears, throwing spiteful glances at the scene of their last defeat, the Rose & Scythe Inn.
The orruks had hidden in Deathwatch Manor and as soon as they spotted the Church approaching came out screaming, the boyz heading towards the Spirit Gate.
Both warbands rushed forward, eager to sink their blades into the hearths of their enemy's leaders.
Sharpbeak darted ahead and ravaged the hulking Mönch, but the Black Orc Big Boss shrugged off the attack and cut down the Gryph Hound. And as always, as soon as the fight started, the Deadwalkers came forward.
A small group attacked the rear of the orruk lines, but where swiftly put down.
In a flash of light, the crossbow boyz emerged from their travel through the Spirit Gate and amidst deafening Waaagh! cries joined the Black Orcs and a bunch of zombies in the assault against Lothar and the Militia.
In the Pumpkin Field, Avram was ambushed by more Deadwalkers, leaving the duardin exposed to Fängmorder's charge. Wilhelm and the Penitent Brotherhood run to help the embattled Unforged, but they too were slowed down by the Deadwalkers.
With the entire Militia butchered by the Black Orcs, Lothar was left alone to fend against the boyz and Deadwalkers.
With a triumphant bellow, Fängmorder cut down Avram. The warboss couldn't bask in his victory as the vengeful Brotherhood fall upon him. Yet, the flagellants could not take the orruk down.
As Avram fell and the Brotherhood failed to lay Fängmorder low, Lothar knew hope was lost. He smashed through the boyz' grot mascot and run for his life.
Luckily for him, even in undeath, his men continued to fight the orruks.
Their sacrifice would be avenged, he swore to Sigmar.
The Haunted Mansion
It had taken Lothar the rest of the night and a good part of the following day to regroup the scattered survivors of the debacle at Deathwatch Manor and rejoin with the rest of the Church. Luckily, they had found a minor Realmgate that, according to the ancient tome, would have led them to the Necomancer's Mansion. The travel had been difficult and they had lost Pieter von Toorn along the way, but they had finally made it to their destination.
The Church filed out of the Realmgate, weapons at the ready. To their dismay, whatever the orruk shaman had found inside Deathwatch Manor had put the greenskinz on the right track.
From the platform of a Dreadfire Portal, the shaman spurred the orruks forth, chanting his praises to Gorkamorka.
In response to the orruk's chants, green flames billowed forth and enveloped Sigmar's Hound and Avram.
Bellowing with joy at the sight of the roasted gryphs, the entire orruk warband stomped forward. Yet, as they approached the Mansion, the Black Orcs halted wearily. The foreboding building was suffused with such a dreadful aura that even the brainless greenskinz thought twice before charging headlong through it.
That was all good, as the orruks' hesitation meant they were now exposed to a charge. Sharpbeak and the surviving Sigmar's Hound darted forward, the Militia and Lothar hot on Sharpbeak's trail. Gunshots and arrows whistled past the Gryph Hound and felled one of the Black Orcs.
Avram dared again the Realmgate, reappearing, as he had hoped, close to the Dreadfire Portal. The shaman had to pay for setting his beard aflame.
But then, a sudden squall of rain battered the area, making any charge impossible.
As the rain passed away and the orruks started their waaagh! cries, the surviving Hound cried out a warning as the first Deadwalker lumbered close. Friederik quickly put it down with a well aimed pistol shot.
Then the orruks charged forward, cutting down both Gryph Hounds.
Rotten shutters burst off their hinges as Deadwalkers poured out of the Mansion and onto the courtyard.
As one, the entire Church charged, Avram seeking revenge on the shaman and Friederik engaging the boyz that had felled his last Hound.
The combats were brutal, with casualties on both sides, and as blood poured forth more Deadwalkers came like moats to a flame.
The combats turned into gruelling affairs as the zombies clawed and bite at both orruks and men.
Avram cast down the shaman from the Dreadfire Portal, sending the grot attendant into a screaming flight.
But that was not enough. Trapped between the Black Orcs and the Deadwalkers, Lothar had lost the support of the Militia. As he prepared to fall at the hands of the orruk warboss, a chill wind blew from the Mansion and a hunchbacked figure appeared on the Mansion's balcony.
"Cursed you all!" screeched the owner of the Mansion "You and your puny gods! There's a price for interfering with Nagash's will, a blood price! Pay it, or perish!"
With these words, the Necromancer turned into a purple mist and drifted away.
