The Sack of Wortbad
The treck from Thalia had been long and the oppressive presence of Khorne's hatred still lingered on Laelanyel. It was time to leave Shyish. Whatever the Harrowmark could offer her was now beyond reach. Except for a few supplies, of course. The simpletons of Wortbad would not care to part with some food, the aelf enchantress thought while pacing above the gate of the Rose & Scythe.
The Caengan banged on the inn door and shutters, but no answer came. Well, so much for niceties. Laelanyel would get was she needed, whether the locals wanted it or not.
A stir in the magical winds blowing over Wortbad brought the unmistakable tang of orruk scum. The Cleavermaws, again. Kind of an annoyance, but they could provide some sport.
Laelanyel saw that Aef-Grimnir thought the same as he ordered his kin forward to grab what they could while taking position to stop the greenskinz' advance. She drifted down from the gate and joined Durbak.
The Cleavermaws fanned out, Mogrum rummaging through a pile of crates and barrels.
Aef-Grimnir and the Kinless planted their feet in centre of the main square, while Engrin moved to secure a stash of food on the edge the village.
The orruks moved onto the square and Tark found himself, once again, on the wrong end of the Cleavermaw ship gun.
The Cleavermaws charged through the heavy black smoke. Durbak jumped between them and his liege, but was quickly taken down.
Laelanyel's shadegheist lingered around a padlocked casket hidden among some empty barrels. Its mistress, in the meantime, turned her attention to the simple minded ogor. It was so easy to turn the brute's fears against him, but still it gave her a subtle shiver of pleasure to see him fall.
Engrin came forward, a throwing axe slamming onto the back of the orruk that had managed to slip past Aef's swinging axe. The aelf joined the Runefather in the brawl.
The Cleavermaw's first mate joined in the fight, bringing more crew members with him. Laelanyel wove a glimmermist shield around her and Aef-Grimnir, fooling the orruks' blows.
Trailing red hot sparks, Aef-Grimnir's axe darted in and out of the mist, leaving only the baffled ship clerk standing.
At a barked order from Mogrum, the Cleavermaws retreated. The Weirdnob was clutching a cloth wrap in his meaty fist. Laelanyel did not pay much attention to that. Even if he had found something of value, chances were that he would not now how to use it.
Whence the Blood Flows
Again, Laelanyel stared deep into the Umbral Spellportal. It showed her a Burning Head raging not far away from where the Abhorrant King held his court. She knew the orruks' simplistic greed would drew them to it. And she would have been there...
The Kinless sat the spellforge ready to cage the Burning Head. Of course, not until she had helped the Cleavermaws in getting closer to it, taught Laelanyel. Suddenly, Drevakh Xosh stepped out of a pool of shadows. He nodded at his mistress, then cocked his head towards a point in the distance.
Laelanyel's gaze followed the direction. As she expected, the Cleavermaws were closing in. By the low rumble of what they considered wispers, she knew they were arguing on matters they could not even understand.
Then unexpected movement caught her attention. To any aelf, there was no doubt that the shapes silently approaching from the east were a hunting party from Gloomfen. As for the group coming from the west, even the dullest of the lesser races would have recognised the colours of a Murderfist warband.
Although the Bloodwarriors seemed bent on storming the Gloomfen hunters, two of them prodded their Flesh Hound and advanced towards the Shadowflames.
"Kinless! By your oath to me, hold the orruks! Drevakh, with me!". The Caengan took their position waiting for the orruks' assault. In a blur, the two aelfs were amongst the Murderfists.
Laelanyel and Drevakh danced around the heavily armoured warriors, inflicting many painful wounds but not killing them. Why not taking some pleasure, thought Laelanyel as she vaulted above the raging Hound. And then the Burning Head was amongst them, consuming the Khornates in an heartbeat.
The Cleavermaws smashed their way through the Kinless and moved to cut Laelanyel's retreat.
Drevakh Xosh leapt into a pool of shadows and came out of it amongst the Murderfists.
Laelanyel smiled under her miststeel mask. The Khornates were no longer a problem and the Cleavermaws were right were she wanted them, on the Burning Head's path to the spellforge. She leapt onto the staircase of a Dreadfire Portal and with its energies bound the endless spell.
As their Tidecaster rose a rusty key high, the Gloomfen hunters loosed a hail of arrows against the melee in front of them. The ground itself swelled in a mudslide, dragging Drevakh Xosh away moments before the arrows hit home.
Freed from the Tenebrael Shard's menace, the Murderfists raged forward. The din of Khornate axes on aelfish steel echoed through the oppressive woods. The tang of freshly spilt blood filled the air. On both sides, warriors fell.
Laelanyel felt a growing pressure in the air. Something that had rarely come to the Harrowmark. The rabid gaze of Khorne was drawn to it. The Mistweaver let go on the Burning Head and retreated into the woods.
Deadly Delusions
Laelanyel had always cherished the embrace of shadows and mists. But in the Harrowmark, their touch felt different, tainted by an obsessive jealousy for soul matter. That place was not where she wanted to be, but it was there that the Cleavermaws had set their ragged sails to. She run her fine fingers over the carvings of an Umbral Spellportal esconced among the gnarled trees. She felt the spell's connection to her native Ulgu and the disconfort faded away. The black surface of the mirror shivered, revealing to her what she was looking for.
Kapt'n Mogrum was staring onto the twin mirror. Laelanyel chuckled at the disconcerted expression on the Wyrdnob face. What a brute! So incapable of truly understanding the nature of the Realms' magic.
The Mistweaver turned her attention away from the orruk. She needed to know where he had taken his crew. A swirling of magical energies hung over a broken ritual circle and around half seen figures. Laelanyel focused on those, and they resolved into a majestic figure presiding over a royal feast, his queen and courtiers gathered at a round table.
The image swirled and reformed into an enormous blade, swung forward by screaming spirits to cut through reality.
The Cleavermaws closed around the Pendulum, lugging their ensorcerelled chest forward.
The orruks turned their charmed pistols at the Pendulum and pushed it backwards toward the shattered circle. As the blade approached, a veil was lifted from Laelanyel's eyes. She saw the noble figures gathered there for what they really were. The pack of ghouls was scrambling around a pile of bones, their Abhorrant King and a lumbering Crypt Haunter dishing out the choicest scraps to their underlings.
The mordants screamed and burst forward. With every step, their reflections into the mirror changed from those of wretched horrors into those of noble knights and proud peasants of old.
Laelanyel recoiled, overwhelmed by the madness of the Abhorrant. Even through the Umbral Spellportal, its touch was a terrible thing to withstand. When she refocused her attention, orruks laid scattered at the feet of screaming and slavering figures in fine livery.
A single orruk stood on the massive oaken table strewn with bones, somehow managing to fend off the ghouls' onslaught.
The king and his champion sallied forth from the dining hall, bloddy bone clubs laying waste on those who had dared to desecrate his proud kingdom.
In the mayhem, Kapt'n Mogrum intoned a guttural chant and managed to drag the Pendulum into his chest. With a triumphant bellow, the orruk slammed the lid close and called for a retreat.
Laelanyel stared into the Spellportal a little longer, fascinated by the scene unfolding as the orruks run away. The king stood proud, his gleaming sword raised in celebration. Around him, filthy, hunchbacked figures rummaged through bones and chuncks of meat. The feast was about to start again.
