Despite the lack of favourable terrain and the seemingly eternal night, the combined Crusader army nonetheless attacked the Undead defenders with fierce zeal. Whole battalions of Flagellants and Zealots hurled themselves headlong into the Undead forces stationed below the castle's frowning massif as illuminating lights were shot off into the air by a battery of Helstorm Rockets. The Undead would not be turned aside, however, and counter-attacked with a small force heading directly into the path of the Light Wizards and their magnificent Luminark. In response, the Luminark sprayed golden light upon the enemy lines and seared a gap in their defences. Meanwhile, on the Empire's right flank, a host of Demigryph Knights, under the leadership of Lupio Blaze, struck the Undead and shattered their forward positions. As the battle seemed to be swinging in the Empire's favour, Mannfred was obligated to personally intervene.[8g] High above the castle battlements, a palanquin of spectres carried a terrifying artifact that began to suck the courage out of the frontal ranks of Crusaders. Eventually the spectres fell upon the Wizards as well, killing their greatly respected leader, Jovi Sunscryer. But the faithful need not fear the undead; a bright flare of light burst out from the wizard's blackened robes as the reincarnated angel of Sunscryer continued the struggle and wrested the unholy artifact away from the flying horrors, reinvigorating the men of the Empire and casting doubt upon the will of the undead to resist.[8g]
It was then that there was silence from all the Lords; none dare spoke, and some bared their throats in submission. In his arrogance and pride, Kritislik believed himself in control, never noticing the dark smoke rising from behind his back until it was far too late. Their vile god, the Horned Rat, suddenly appeared upon the Council Chamber and all the Lords prostrated themselves in utter devotion and fear. The Horned Rat expressed his disappointment in his bickering children, and his greatest disappointment fell upon the Seerlord himself. Long had the Seerlord been given god-like gifts of power, wealth, and age, but Kritislik was greedy far beyond even Skaven norms, and had thus wasted his favours for far too long. To make an example to his other children, the Horned Rat grabbed the Seerlord by the tail. He slowly stroked a claw-finger upon his horns, giving one last bit of sympathy for his most Exalted of Prophets before he was sent to utter oblivion. Screeching for mercy, the Seerlord was utterly helpless as the mouth of his god opened up, and he was cast down an endless gaping maw of terrible possibilities that saw him utterly destroyed.[9a]
Age Of Fear 2: The Chaos Lord GOLD V4.8.3 Update
But the Undead hordes continued their advance, but as it seemed lost for the Dwarf cause, a horned rang across the caverns. From the empty tunnels on the left flank of the Dwarf army, King Kazador and his most elite warriors from Karak Azul burst forth, regiment after armoured regiment of harderened Dwarf Warriors filed out and attack the Undead on their flanks led by the Sternbeard Clan, the Bouldergoats and an entire squadron of the Mountain Bolts. Yet from across the caverns, the armies of Goblin Warlord Grulsik Moonclaw and the remnants of the Goblin tribes burst through the rear flanks of the Undead and carved their way towards the Dwarfen lines at the front. With three armies attacking at many different directions, the battle turned to utter chaos as knots of warriors from all sides became scattered and fought against not one, but two enemies.[1r]
A shriek filled the very air with noise as the dead lying upon the ground rose in their thousands as to the south, Vlad von Carstein has entered the battlefield. The Imperials retreated, but the Undead pressed on against the daemonhost, the Blood Knights of Walach Harkon leading the charge. Seeing a common foe, both the Imperials and Undead rallied together and fought back the daemons and the Great Unclean One from the breach, the walls soon glowing with golden light as Gelt began the ritual to restore it to it's former glory. With a cry of triumph, the ritual was complete, and the walls of the Bastion flowed together once more. As the breach was closing in front of him, Vlad gave the Great Unclean One a sneering smile, swept his sword in mocking salute, then strode briskly from the sealing breach. All could hear the cry of the daemon lord as the wall finally closed in on itself. Thus ended the Battle of Alderfen and the beginning of an unusual alliance.[1s]
Surrounded on all sides, it would seem lost to the Skaven cause, but Queek was fearless and rallied his troops around him. Using his most elite troops, Queek led his Red Guard and a pack of Rat Ogres against Warboss Krolg whilst the second half of the army under Warlord Ikk Hackflay and his Ironskins tries to hold back the enemy ambushers. As more Skaven reserves emerge out of Burnt Cliff and began to flow around the base of Silver Mountain, the flanks began to stabilise while Queek personally fought the Orc Warboss in single combat. Having reached the Grim Gates, Skarsnik also ordered in the reserves stationed within the base of Karak Ziflin. Yet as the battle hang in the balance, Skarsnik was assaulted by a pack of Rat Ogres under the leadership of Grotoose, First Beastmaster of Clan Mors. After much struggle, the Beastmaster was close to ending the Goblin's life before Gobbla ate him up. Yet as Skarsnik returned his attention to the battle, Gobbla began to shiver, blood streaming out of the creature's eyes and mouth. Concerned, Skarsnik leaned towards his dear companion and friend before a knife burst through the Cave Squigs head.[9p]
Up on the surface, the city was in total chaos. Half the population was running around in dismay, barricading themselves in their houses or taking safety within Imperial fortification whilst the other half fought desperately in the streets. Pockets of resistance sporadically pop up everywhere in the city. Mercenary Sellswords from the Last Hope Tavern have blockaded themselves in, fending off the ratmen that are already swarming out the doors and windows. Flagellant warbands within the Grand Strausse fought a suicidal battle against the ratmen forces, fighting without fear or sanity beneath the gleaming statue of Magnus the Pious.[4k]
In the ensuring melee, Princess Adranna faced her mad brother and his warriors with a vengeance for Korhil's death, feeling no fear as corruption eats away into her soul. When at last she spotted her sibling, she let out a cry of recognition and sent tendrils of dark magic to drag her brother towards her, Dalroths begging for her mercy. Yet Morathi saw Lord Dalroth's plight and forced Adranna's tendrils back upon herself. As her screams faded, so too did the tendrils which held Dalroth and for a fleeting moment, all Dalroth could do was to sit down and stare motionlessly at his sisters corpse, his expression unreadable. Then, madness envelopment his eyes and his thoughts once more and he rose to spit on his sisters body and threw himself back into the fight. In the skies above, great flocks of Harpies and Manticores clashed with the Warhawk Riders and Skycutters of Malekith's armies. Teclis and his retinue of Loremasters tried desperately to conduct their ritual, yet despite the greatest minds at his command and two years of preparation made, the Vortex was at a hairbreadths away from getting out of control. Only once did Teclis attention wavered; when the chill horns sounded the arrival of Tyrions undead legions. In that moment of laxity, gust of magical winds burst forth from the Vortex, the Winds of Metal turning two-score of Phoenix Guard into lifeless gold whilst Slivers of Azyr sent lightning strikes upon Conthiqui archers. Whilst all this happening, Alith Anar stood high above the fighting, his thoughts ablaze with conflicting allegiance and prayed for Lileath's guidance.
Malektih stood upon the very center of the fighting, leading by example instead of a menacing shadow like he fought before. Yet as the Undead lurched forward, at their head stood the five Undead Phoenix Kings, their bodies resurrected and filled with nothing but hatred for Malekith and reinforced it with Tyrions own. Nothing of the proud rulers were left in those withered husk. None save Malekith knew exactly what transpired next. Others simply saw the Phoenix King draw away from the fight, feeling perhaps fear for the first time in many an age. Yet just before the Undead Lords met the lines, Malekiths laughter echoed across the battlefield, and with a great voice he demanded the Kings of Ulthuan to submit themselves before the rightful successor to the throne of Elvenkind. At that moment, the former Phoenix Kings burst and were scattered by an unseen explosion. Lifting his sword towards the skeleton horde, a burst of flame shot out of Malekiths sword and from this flame a robed and armoured figure emerge. Many gasp, for it bore the image of Finubar the Seafarer. His blazing light hitting the horde and from the explosion, Finubar stood high and proud, shinning with a golden light as he threw himself to the fray.
Hundreds of leagues to the west, the River Reik is choked with blackened moss, the armies of the Glottkin march across the fetid waters, tribe after tribe of tattooed barbarians following in their wake. In the Grey Mountains, a king nearing his hundredth year but with the look of a man in his prime rode his hippogryph at the head of an armoured column. The whole of Axe Bite Pass is covered all around with mighty Knights in shimmering armour, flocks of Pegasus and Hippogryphs flying across the sky. They would stand with the Empire one last time, or die trying. Daeamonspew spilled out from Talabheims craterwalls and headed south-eastward upon a horde of Daemons and Beast, the Brass Bull of ancient days answering his call of blood. Atop a windswept fjord north of the Sea of Claws, a warlord clad in hellforged armour astride a daemonic steed looked across the bay where hundreds of Kurgan wolfships headed south, their brine-glittered oars rising and falling the like the slow pulse of fate. Out from the forest, an army of maniacs and beasts carved their way through the Drakwald Forest. As they came, dark vines corrupted all in its path and at their head a Norscan lord stood proud upon his warshrine, his tentacles writing with anticipation. At the forest outskirts, a mighty Wizard Lord with a mask of gold awaits by the company of the damn, his determination to see the lands of man saved from damnation stokes a fire within his heart. 2ff7e9595c
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