hordes - devastation

7/24/2019 Hordes - Devastation

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WHEN DESTRUCTION

COMES, WHEN THE

WORLD ENDS,

I WOULD FACE MY

DOOM WITH MY

PEOPLE BESIDE ME.

WE STAND AS ONE

AGAINST DARKNESS,

EARTHQUAKE, AND

STORM. DHUNIA

WILL REMEMBER OUR

COURAGE EVEN AFTER

OUR BONES ARE DUST.

MADRAK IRONHIDE


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HORDEScreated and designed byMatthew D. Wilson

Lead Designer,HORDESJason Soles

Designer, DevastationDavid Carl

Project DirectorBryan Cutler

Creative DirectorEd Bourelle

Writing &Continuity ManagerDouglas Seacat

WritingZachary C. Parker

Additional WritingMatt DiPietroGeordie HicksLyle LoweryWilliam Shick

ContinuityDouglas Seacat

Jason Soles

Writing & EditorialManagerDarla Kennerud

EditingMichele CarterDan Henderson

Darla KennerudGraphic Design DirectorLaine Garrett

Josh Manderville

Graphic Design &LayoutRichard AndersonShona FahlandMatt FerbracheLaine Garrett

Josh Manderville

Art DirectorMike Vaillancourt

Cover IllustrationAndrea Uderzo

IllustrationsChippyCarlos CabreraAlberto Dal LagoGrant GrifnTyler JamesMarco MazzoniMarcel MercadoNstor OssandnBram SolisAndrea Uderzo

Lead Concept ArtistNick Kay

Concept IllustrationsMarco MazzoniAndrea UderzoMatt Wilson

Studio DirectorRon Kruzie

Staff SculptorsShawn BrunerBrian DugasDoug HamiltonMichael Jenkins

Additional SculptingCarlos Castao

Jonathan FlandersBen MisenarSteve Saunders

Studio ModelersJames A. Thomas

Miniature Painters

Matt DiPietroGeordie Hicks

Studio AdministrationAssistantCharles Foster III

Digital EngineerStuart Spengler

Additional EngineeringBen MisenarNate Scott

Hobby & TerrainSpecialistMichael Archer

PhotographyMatt Ferbrache

Senior Project ManagerShona Fahland

Licensing & ContractManagerBrent Waldher

PresidentSherry Yeary

Chief Creative OfcerMatthew D. Wilson

Director of Business &

Branding DevelopmentWilliam Shick

Executive AssistantMichelle Horton

Marketing ManagerLyle Lowery

Web/IT ProfessionalMicah Scott Ralston

ConventionCoordinatorMichael Plummer

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Metal CastingSupervisorMarcus Rodriguez

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Production

Oren AshkenaziNelson BaltzoFelisha BolzenthalTom Cawby

Johan CeaBryan DasallaAlfonso Falco

Joel FalkenhagenTrevor HancockMike HarshbargerChris LesterDavid LimaClayton LinksKeith LoreeBryan McClain

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Development Admin.Coordinator

Jack Coleman

InfernalsPeter GaublommeTravis Marg

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Internal PlaytestersEd BourelleDavid Carl

Jack ColemanCharles Foster IIIBill FrenchWilliam HungerfordBryan McClainChris McLeroyMichael PlummerErik ReiersonWilliam SchoonoverWilliam Shick

Jason Soles

External PlaytestersAlice Bettoli

Jonathan BoggsCorey BrownAndrew Hartland

Kristin HartlandFederico IngrossoStu Liming

James MorelandAndrew ReadyOwen Rehrauer

Josh SaulterTim Simpson

ProofreadingDavid CarlDan HendersonLyle LoweryWilliam Shick

CREDITS


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First printing: June 2015. Printed in China.

HORDES: Devastation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ISBN: 978-1-939480-83-5 . . . . . . . . . . . .PIP 1062

HORDES: Devastation Hardcover . . . . . . . . . . .ISBN: 978-1-939480-84-2 . . . . . . . . . . . .PIP 1063

Choices often come with unintended consequences,

and doubly so for those choices born of desperation. A

decision made under duress, in the heat of the moment,

can lead to exactly the end it was meant to avoid. Such

is the story of Madrak Ironhide and his choice to wield

the ancient and terrible axe Rathrok in a desperate bid tosave his people.

As the power of the axe stirs and grows with each blood-

soaked battle, the Devourer Wurm turns from its eternal

battle against Menoth in Urcaen and casts its gaze upon

the world of the living. Sensing its masters desires

Wurmwood, the Tree of Fate, carefully manipulates events

from the shadows, preparing to enact a ritual that will part

the veil and unleash the Devourer Wurm on Caen. Amid

these climactic events, legendary warlocks rise to the

crisis, tapping heretofore-unknown inner reserves so they

might avert the apocalypseor perhaps hasten it.

As old heroes become new again, the wild factions of

Immoren cast aside all pretense of hiding in the shadows

and reveal the true extent of their might. Previously

unseen gargantuans descend upon the battleeld, their

footsteps shaking the earth as they heed their warlocks

calls to slaughter. Whether it be the crackling electricalfury of the savage Storm Raptor or the multi-headed,

acid-spewing nightmare that is the Desert Hydra, these

fearsome warbeasts will rock the very foundations of war

within the Iron Kingdoms.

When the end of the world is at stake, nothing is off-

limits. Unleash the full extent of your fury and know that

Devastationis at hand!

A WORLD IN THE BALANCE

TABLE OF CONTENTSTHE KEY TURNS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

THEME FORCES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

TROLLBLOODS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

CIRCLE ORBOROS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

SKORNE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38

LEGION OF EVERBLIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

MINIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58

MODEL GALLERY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70

PAINTING GUIDE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72

THE GATE OPENS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75


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THE SHARD SPIRES, EARLY 609 AR

Sheets of snow, stone, and ice ew through the air as the

mountainside erupted in a burst of pent-up fury. A bestial

roar echoed from peak to peak, threatening each slope with

avalanche. Clouds of displaced snow shrouded the newly

formed hole, and the hulking shape that arose from it came

out swinging. After searching for more than a week among

the frozen northern reaches of the Shard Spires, Hoarluk

Doomshaper had found the rst of the glacier kings of

the north, cousins of the mountain kings awoken in the

Wyrmwall. As anticipated, the ceremony of awakening he

had invoked in the south had roused other ancient trolls

from their prisons, eager to be free.

During his travels, Doomshaper had recruited two dozen

kriel warriors and a handful of skinners from the northern

tribes. Though seasoned and battle-ready, they fell back

now, falling over one another to put distance betweenthemselves and the troll legend pulling itself into the

world. The old shaman found their panic aggravating but

understandable; they could not have stood against such a

creature even had they tried. Doomshaper did not inch

as a boulder hurtled past him and left a long gouge in

the snow. Beside him, Mulg rumbled and stood equally

resolute, smashing his reinforced club into the ground in a

display of dominance.

As the glacier king emerged from the hole, its massive

knuckles unceremoniously crushed one of the ancient

krielstone markers that had mystically bound the

slumbering trolls as much as their chains. A telltale scarrunning down the beasts face matched descriptions from

old legends of a far-northern troll king called Winters Maw

that had raged against the trollkin intruding into its domain.

Though in some ways the glacier king resembled the

mountain kings of the southern ranges, it was unmistakably

marked by the endless winter of the frozen north. Icicles

taller than a man hung from its chin, and a mound of ice

and snow upon its back reached toward the sky. The already

frigid temperature of the surrounding air plummeted as a

deeper cold radiated from the beasts skin. The trunks of

nearby spruces cracked and split.

Doomshaper set his teeth. If he could reach the beast and

lay his hands upon it, he felt certain he could bind its will

as he had done with the mountain kings. Without a battle

raging about them to serve as a distraction, however, such

a feat would prove difcult. He gave a mental command to

Mulg, and together they advanced into the fray.

A burst of icy wind tore over the pair, partially numbing

their limbs and inicting frostbite in seconds. Cold! Mulg

bellowed in Molgur-Trul, and the runes carved into the

stones upon the dire trolls back ared. In the next instant,

the winds that besieged them dissipated under the inuence

of Mulgs power.

Doomshaper narrowly avoided a crushing blow from the

glacier king, though the glancing impact knocked himoff his feet. Mulg howled and struck the slow-moving

st with his banded club, shattering several of the great

ngers and causing the enraged creature to draw back its

arm in surprise.

The crack of stone splitting lled the air as rock and snow

exploded from the nearby slopes to reveal two more of

the primal trolls. These were slightly less immense than

Winters Maw, but seeing the three together chilled the

shamans blood.

Doomshaper stood, drawing on Mulgs anger and vitality,

and resumed his advance. If the rst gargantuan wereallowed to gather its wits, there would be no chance of

stopping it. If he could tame this, the greatest of the glacier

kings, the others would submit.

Again the troll king drew back its st, eclipsing the waning

sun, and struck. The st shot past Doomshaper toward

Mulg behind him. A howl of rage and the snapping of

bones sounded as the st slammed into the craggy dire troll.

Looking through Mulgs eyes, Doomshaper experienced

being hurled back several yards in the air before tumbling

end-over-end in the snow.

With Mulg down, gusts of frigid wind began to circulateagain around the towering form of Winter's Maw, followed

by a sudden, intense snowstorm that all but blinded

Doomshaper. Mulg disappeared from view, and the shaman

stepped forward blindly, reaching for the space where the

glacier kings knee had been.

A st emerged from the blizzard to seize Doomshaper

with enough force to crack his ribs, and he was lifted high

above the earth. He struggled futilely against the glacier

kings grip. His shattered ribs threatened to pierce vital

organs, and he had no choice but to shunt the damage to

Mulg, adding to the injuries the troll had already sustained.

Doomshaper achieved the contact he sought with the greattroll, but pain prevented him from focusing. Darkness

threatened his vision.

The face of the glacier king emerged from the vortex of snow.

Its maw unhinged, exposing the gateway to a bottomless

hunger, and from the beasts throat issued a roar worthy of the

legends. Spittle ew from great tusk-like yellowed incisors,

and the sheer force of the sound rattled Doomshapers

teeth. His eardrums exploded, and the roar gave way to an

incessant ringing. Disorientation overtook him.

THE KEY TURNS


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He drew on his last strength to lash out with Willbreaker.

The mystically augmented staff splintered one of the

massive incisors. Doomshaper felt rather than heard asecond roar, and the glacier king shook him mercilessly.

Willbreaker slipped from his grasp and tumbled down to

clatter against the beasts teeth before disappearing into the

yawning darkness of its mouth.

Doomshaper stared unblinking into the trolls eyes

and reached out to its mind with his own. He radiated

condence into the mind of the glacier king, subjecting it

to the power of his will. What ensued was not unlike the

Tohmaak Mahkeiri, as their minds joined and he immersed

himself in the hunger and rage of Winters Maw. In his

minds eye, Doomshaper saw ashes of images, memories

of Winters Maw clashing with other beasts of the steppes

or devouring them afterward. He called forth the memory

of feeding his own hand to Mulg in a bid for the dire trolls

loyalty, showing the glacier king that all trollkind shared

the same blood, a kinship more powerful than anything

else on Caen. The bloodlust etched on the trolls face

shifted in puzzlement as it squinted at Doomshaper, and

the blizzard swirling about its shoulders died down.

Well met, Winters Maw, Doomshaper said. He issued a

mental command, and the creature placed him back on the

ground. The bond was forged.

The other glacier kings were closing on Mulg to tear him

limb from limb. Doomshaper commanded Winters Maw

to intervene. With a roar, the glacier king placed himself

between his troll brethren and the dire troll, hitting his chest

forcefully and baring his teeth. The others stepped back

and slumped slightly in submission. Doomshaper took the

opportunity to touch the other two, and within moments all

three looked down at his tiny form with anticipation.

The kriel warriors who had ed to a safe distance now crept

back, gaining condence at the sight of Doomshaper standing

unharmed and deant. Mulg returned to the shamans side,limping and dragging his club in the freshly fallen snow.

The blow he suffered at the hands of the gargantuan had

been tremendous, but his natural regenerative powers were

already at work, accelerated by Doomshapers urging.

Above, a glacier king tore a boulder from the mountainside

and shoved the rock into its eager mouth. They would need

real food soon, but at least the rst step toward taming the

kings of the north was complete. With Winters Maw at his

side, the rest would follow.


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THE KEY TURNS

6

Though Willbreaker was lost to the belly of the rst glacier

king, Doomshaper found inspiration amid the shattered

remnants of the krielstones that marked where Winters

Maw had been imprisoned. Beneath his hands he felt the

thrumming of Dhunian power, still potent after millennia,and he used his cunning and lore to bind that power

into a weapon. He leaned on the new staff as he walked,

and Mulg trudged alongside him with his usual scowl.

Doomshaper was forced to expend some of their limited

food supplies to facilitate the dire trolls recovery, yet

Mulg still hungered.

How much farther until we reach the Khadorans?

Doomshaper asked the trollkin skinner beside him.

Hundreds of northern pines and a mountain of stone had

disappeared down the gullets of the glacier kings, but this

had barely curbed their hunger. The gargantuan trolls eyed

the kriel warriors hungrily. Doomshaper kept them locked

down with his will, but it required close attention.

Just beyond these peaks, the skinner said, pointing up

the slope. Doomshaper could hear the anticipation in the

trollkins voice. Theyve had this coming for a long time.

For years, nearby kriels had clashed with a Khadoran

logging community on the fringes of their territory. When

game to feed the glacier kings came up scarce, the trollkin

had suggested turning that insatiable hunger on their

longtime enemies. Doomshaper well understood that

impulse and was more than willing to assist his northern

kins vengeance.

The group topped the rise, and before them a little-used

path wound down the mountain to the frozen tundra

beyond. A short distance from the mountains base, curls

of smoke rose from the chimneys of the Khadoran town the

scouts had identied as Daliskov. A stout wall encircled the

holdings, punctuated by several watchtowers.

It is not Ceryl, but its a start, Doomshaper said under

his breath. As they hiked downward, he imagined the

gargantuans casting down the meager walls and falling

upon the towns inhabitants, stufng them into gaping

mouths one after the next and ending their screams with asatisfying crunch that splattered the streets with blood.

Movement caught his attention. To one side of the path,

perched on an outcropping of stone and balancing on one

clawed foot, stood a battered jack that appeared to have

been cobbled together. Unlike most warjacks, this one lacked

arms, its engine solely committed to driving its long legs. Its

chassis was a faded red where rust had not overtaken its

surface. A series of ropes and buckles held a bedroll and

several satchels to its frame. With grace uncanny for its

size, the jack bounded over the rocks, each step marked

by the scrape of steel on stone. Doomshaper recognized the

machine as the one called Scrapjack.

Stop, a voice commanded, and a hunched gure draped

in layers of threadbare clothing now blocked the path. She

had an air of preternatural antiquity about her that seemedpotent even against the backdrop of the Shard Spires. Each

of her ngers extended into a steel talon, and a crow perched

on one of the pipes protruding from the warcaster armor

buried beneath her garments. Although he had never met

her, Doomshaper knew enough lore to identify Zevanna

Agha, also called the Old Witch of Khador.

Step aside, Doomshaper said, his voice rough and

threatening. The children of Dhunia do not answer to the

likes of you.

Do you expect me to valk avay and leave Daliskov to you?

She cackled. If the presence of the glacier kings daunted her,

she did not show it. Your plan I vould reconsider. Tragedy

avaits those you left in the south. If you hurry, perhaps

you can save them. Perhaps. She made a clucking sound,

and something between a scowl and a smile tugged at her

wrinkled face. Children of Dhunia? Also of the Vurm,

vhich does not hesitate to devour its young.

Though Doomshapers expression remained unchanged,

he felt the impact of the Old Witchs last words. This

mention of the Devourer Wurm was unexpected and

unsettling. He reminded himself that the crone was known

for her cryptic speech. He said, I have no time for your

riddles. Speak plainly or be gone.The Tree of Fate vishes to reclaim vhat it views as its own.

The axe of Horfar Grimmr vill bring the ruin of your people.

Perhaps mine also. She clacked her talons along the staff

she carried. You could change this.

I have heard enough, Doomshaper said. Behind him,

grumbles issued from the glacier kings as they sensed

his anger. I will not be dissuaded by your threats or

prophecies. How many of your own people have you sent

to early graves with a few words?

Believe vhat you vish. She looked down the mountainside

to the distant town of Daliskov. Leave this place. Go backto the desert sands vhere your people need you. I vill not

varn you again. With that, she blinked out of existence

only to reappear farther down the mountain, Scrapjack

standing beside her. For a moment, she held Doomshapers

gaze, then she and her machine walked out of sight behind

several boulders.

What was that about? the skinner asked. Doomshaper

only shook his head. The Old Witch was not to be trusted.


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Finally he hauled himself over the lip of the cliff, his chest

heaving. At the top of an incline littered with boulders and

the occasional stunted pine loomed Cassius, and behind

him, Wurmwood. The ancient trees roots wrapped about

loose soil and stone, and the many bones hanging from its

limbs clattered in the wind.

Kromac removed the burlap sack from his waist andemptied the contents at Wurmwoods base. A dozen human

hearts and a smattering of other choice organs landed in the

dirt, looking like slick and spoiled fruit in the moonlight.

The Tharn dropped to one knee and uttered words of

greeting and respect in Molgur.

You have returned, Cassius said, his hooded form gliding

between the sentry stones, though without the axe of

Horfar Grimmr. His eyes were empty, two extinguished

coals wrapped in pale skin.

Forgive me, Oathkeeper, Kromac said, feeling his shame

keenly. I was thwarted.

Cassius' voice was deep and resonant, as though his words

carried from the bottom of a well. You underestimate your

foe. The trollkin are also children of the Wurm.

In Kromacs memory he saw himself closing on the axe only

to be tackled by one of the trollkin chieftains lieutenants,

the two of them brawling across the ground until they

went together over the edge of a cliff. The lieutenant was a

powerful warrior, and by the time Kromac narrowly bested

him, the opportunity to confront Madrak had been lost.

Kromac clenched his sts, his claws cutting into his palms.

I will not disappoint you again.

You were named champion of the apocalypse. You must

prove worthy. You will have your chance, and soon. Events

converge to offer a chance at redemption.

I will take the axe from Madrak Ironhide after I have taken

the heart from his chest. Kromacs blood stirred as hespoke, his primal side straining like a collared beast.

You must wield the axe of Horfar Grimmr. The statement

was made with cold certainty, the matter decided. World

Ender nears the completion of its purpose in the northern

Bloodstone Marches. Step forward when the time is right.

Rise now, and go.

Kromac stood. His muscles ached from the climb, and thin

rivulets of blood owed over the knuckles of each clenched

Whatever advice she offered, she worked toward her own

ends. Even so, he couldnt help but wonder how much truth

lay in her words.

What of the town? asked one of the kriel warriors.

Doomshaper hesitated. We proceed as planned, He

said after a moment. He would not allow a gure out

of Khadoran folklore to inuence his actions. For toolong the empires of men had pushed his people to the

fringes, treating them as inferiors. They would pay a

price in bloodnot once, but many times. This town was

meaningless, only the rst of many he would erase. He

would not back down at the demands of anyone speaking

on behalf of his enemies, even Zevanna Agha.

Doomshaper looked up to the gargantuans looming

above. One of them sucked on a boulder discontentedly.

The glacier kings still hunger," he said, "and it would not

do to let the transgressions of the people of Daliskov go

unanswered.

WESTERN WYRMWALL

Kromacs muscles strained as he hauled himself up the

cliff face. Above, the granite sheet ascended into the night

sky, and sharp stones waited below to receive his fall. His

ngers slid over the surface in search of new handholds, the

cuts on his palms leaving smears of crimson.

A burlap sack hitched to his belt slid back and forth over his

thigh like a pendulum as he climbed. Like the stone under

his palms, the bottom of the sack was a dark red. A trickle

of blood ltered through the bag and fell into the yawning

darkness, one drop at a time.

The three moons looked down upon him like pale faces.

Calder, the largest, shone as a blue-white half crescent.

The speckled red-brown Laris was nearly full, as was pale

green Artis, the smallest of the three. Already the pull

of the upcoming lunar conjunction threatened to drive

Kromac into his bestial form. He had not undergone a

transformation since his defeat at the hands of the trollkin,

and despite the physical demands the ascent placed on

him, he resisted the urge to transform now. The shame

of his failure clung to him, and he did not wish to draw

upon his connection to the Wurm while unworthy. In a few

weeks time, however, the three moons would be full, andthe Beast of All Shapes would be upon him regardless of

his resolve.

Handholds crumbled beneath his ngers and the winds of

the peaks threatened to rip him from the cliff, but he would

not be shaken. At the edges of his vision, a hooded gure

appeared beneath the shadows of distant rock faces. The

suspicion that Cassius watched spurred him to overreach

and to try unstable handholds, and one time he was left

dangling by a few clawed ngernails.

YOU WERE NAMED CHAMPION

OF THE APOCALYPSE. YOU

MUST PROVE WORTHY.


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THE KEY TURNS

8

st from the wounds on his palms. The blood pattered at

his feet, where the gnarled roots of the Tree of Fate wrapped

around the hearts offered as tribute. His blood, too, was

pulled in by the roots.

A mist rose from the ground, swirling and growing thicker.

The forms of Cassius and the Tree of Fate disappeared in the

wall of fog. The calls of birds Kromac knew to be native tothe Glimmerwood sounded from unseen branches. A sense

of disorientation lingered as he steadied himself. When

the fog burned away, he stood in a ring of standing stones

hundreds of miles from where he had been moments before.

Kromac took only a moment to consider his course. Several

Tharn tribes loyal to him resided in this region. He would

gather them and see the will of the Beast of All Shapes done,

even if it meant his end.

NORTHERN BLOODSTONE MARCHES

Madrak sought out Kargess across the gathered crowd and

smiled. Despite his misgivings about returning to his exiledpeople, it was beyond good to see her. She smiled back, but

there was something reserved in her expression. He felt the

familiar ache in his chest grow heavier even as the axe on

his back pulled at him. He had not been a good mate lately,

or a good leader for these kin. He had done the best he

could, but his failures weighed heavily upon him.

They stood in the largest space in the newly built village in

the Bloodstone Marchesits great hall. The hall was secured

within what Calandra called the inner village, protected

by a high stone wall and battlements. Most of the half-built

main community sprawled beyond the inner village. Even

here lay evidence of fresh construction, yet the space had

been made as festive as possible to welcome Madrak. A

large re was at the center together with what ale and food

had been gathered for the feast. The hall was packed with

champions, elders, lesser chieftains, and other leaders of theUnited Kriels, but Madrak had eyes only for Kargess.

He went to where she stood apart from the tumult, accepting

welcoming claps on the shoulder and greeting old friends

as he made his way. She held her hands out to him and he

clasped them eagerly, leaning in to touch foreheads. He had

been away too long. For a moment he breathed in her earthy

smell, and the noise around them faded into background,

but then she pulled back.

It is good to see you, she said, but how did you arrive?

Rumors are multiplying in the village, each more unlikely

than the last.

He shook his head. I cannot say. We had just come down

from the Wyrmwall Mountains, with weeks of travel still

ahead of us, when we were swallowed by a fog. Then we

were in the Marches and Calandra was greeting us. Hesqueezed her hand and gave her an apologetic look. I

should nd Grissel. There is much to discuss. Things have

changed since I left.

Kargess nodded. Indeed they have. But Grissel can wait.

She will see you later at the feast. Take a moment to rest.

You can be spared for a few moments.

Madrak nodded and followed his mate to their new

dwelling, one of the small buildings attached to the defensive

wall of the inner village. It looked familiar even though he

hadnt seen it before. He saw Kargess in the details: the

arrangement of the furniture, the cloak laid across the back

of a chair, items salvaged from their old home. Her own

armor and weapons hung, cleaned and ready, in a place

where she could readily seize them. He wondered what she

had faced in his absence. He took a moment to rinse his face

at a washing bowl. From somewhere nearby he heard the

sound of a baby crying and he smiled. Even in times of war

there was new life.

As Madrak dried his hands he realized the sound came from

another chamber of their hut. This was not a surprise

children in a kriel were a communal matter, and Kargess

had always dedicated herself to the well-being of the kriel,

including caring for the young. He hoped to have his ownfamily someday. Perhaps once Rathroks claim on him was

satised.

Kargess returned carrying a young trollkin, less than a year

old. Madrak eyed the bundle with amusement. Whose

little one are you looking after today?

Ours, Kargess said softly.

Madrak opened his mouth but the words would not come.

Surely he had misheard her.

Kargess smiled. Say hello to your son. She handed him

the shifting bundle, and he cradled the child in his arms

with a gentleness that felt both unfamiliar and natural.

He looked down at the swaddled form, and a pair of large

and curious eyes peered up from a pale blue face with

full cheeks.

A tiny hand reached up and groped at the growths on his

chin. I have a son? Madrak asked, his voice thick. He'd

held his share of young trollkin. Hed taught several how

to ght and instructed them on the kriels traditions, but

holding his own son brought with it a sense of wholly

FROM SOMEWHERE NEARBY HE

HEARD THE SOUND OF A BABY

CRYING AND HE SMILED. EVEN IN

TIMES OF WAR THERE WAS NEW LIFE.


11/95

unexpected pride. He and Kargess had just decided to begin

their own family when the Thornwood was invaded, and

they had put off that dream amid the tumult. He thought

back to how long he had been gone. His son had been

conceived during those last weeks before he left to nd

Doomshaper, to distance himself from his people before

Rathrok brought them greater harm. As he looked into

these wide eyes, old fears resurfaced. Here he held a pieceof himselfhis futureand at the same time the axe of

Horfar Grimmr hung from his back like an ominous weight

anchoring him to a destiny fraught with darkness.

I have been calling him Dag, Kargess said. An old name,

from a Molgur-Trul word for day. There will be time to

decide if it sticks or if another is better suited.

A good name, Madrak said, looking at his child. Was he

an albino like his father, or only pale? He was not sure.

Kargess stepped close and placed her hands on Madraks

elbows so the baby rested between the two of them. Grim

wanted to tell you, but I insisted he wait so I could give you

the news myself. I was hoping it would be sooner, but we

are together now, the three of us.

His mates words echoed in his mind. Yes, they were

together, and while he should rejoice, his apprehension

was stronger than ever. He had left those he cared for to

spare them the horrors that followed him. He had sworn

he would not return before ridding himself of the accursed

weapon, yet here he was, still in its possession, putting his

kriel at riskand now his son as well.

Kargess leaned forward and their foreheads pressed together,

initiating the Tohmaak Mahkeiri. Rather than meeting her gazeand completing the bond that would allow them to peer into

each others mind, Madrak pulled away.

What is it? she asked, collecting Dag from his arms. You

look every bit as tired as you look happy to be a father.

What happened while you were away?

Later, Madrak said, shaking his head. He placed his hand

on the bundle and a small hand gripped one of his ngers.

In one sense, nothing has changed. In another, everything.

Later, then. She studied his face for a long while, then

said, We should prepare for the feast. Your people wish to

speak with you. Their chief has been missed.

It has been too long, Grissel said as she and Madrak

embraced. We send you off to retrieve Doomshaper and

instead you return with half the Wyrmwall! The entire

village has been going on about the mountain kings.

The chieftain who walks with legends, Horthol said with

a grin. He stepped forward to clasp forearms with Madrak.

Congratulations on your son. I am sure he will grow up to

be every bit as impressive as his father.

My son! Madrak smiled. Thank you. It is good to

be in the company of old friends. He then explained

Doomshapers quest in the north as the three of them stoodinside the entrance to the newly erected feast hall. Massive

pillars hewn from trees dragged from the mountainside

braced the impressively high ceiling, and the ne masonry

of the walls held in the warmth of a central re over

which roasted two desert oxen. Every notable champion

and chief was present, and the cadences of conversation

and laughter lled the hall. It had been a long while since

Madrak had felt such warmth, though he couldnt bring

himself to relish it. He looked from Horthol to Grissel and

considered what his return might cost them.

Grissel caught his eye and said, Do not seek troubles that

are not already yours. It was an old saying. She continued,There is much to do, but many to share the burden.

He nodded. This is true. Beyond the open doorway, the

mountain kings roamed in the encroaching dark, eating

stones and trees. He waved vaguely in their direction.

Keeping such creatures under thumb takes its toll on the

mind, but the march is over. Thank you both. I knew I could

count on you to keep everyone together.

We had help, Grissel said. You were right to send Calandra.

Without her, I dont know if we would have made it out of

Crael Valley intact. Gunnbjorn has also proven invaluable,

though we practically had to drag him from SkarleforthLake before he would retreat from the skorne. He has done a

commendable job organizing the camps defenses.

Madrak looked to Gunnbjorn, seated beside Grim Angus at

the raised table. The trollkin caught the chieftains glance

and raised a mug of ale in salute and Madrak nodded in

acknowledgement.

Indeed, you have done more than I could have asked for,

Madrak said. I am lucky to count you among my kin. It is

remarkable what you accomplished here in so short a time.

Dont let him forget it, Kargess said as she approached

the three of them, young Dag in her arms. Come, shesaid, taking Madrak by the hand. Others want to speak

with you, and I am sure you are hungry from your travels.

Madrak nodded to Grissel and Horthol and started across

the hall. He stopped every few paces to embrace kin who

greeted him. Now and then someone would thrust a mug

into his hands, and by the time he reached the raised table at

the front of the hall he had drained several. Horthol, Grissel,

and Calandra had joined Gunnbjorn and Grim, and the ve


12/95

THE KEY TURNS

10

were talking at a fast clip when Madrak and Kargess joined

them. Already plates of meat were being passed, though the

slices were thin and few. The feast looked hard-won.

I examined the fortications when I arrived, Madrak said

to Gunnbjorn. You have done a ne job strengthening our

position. He looked around him at the construction of the

hall once again. All of you. You have done much to makethis a new home.

Even so, there is so much more to do, Grissel said. This

land sustains life only grudgingly. The soil refuses anything

but weeds, and even those do poorly. Every skinner and

hunter is out looking for game, but what they bring back

barely sustains us. We must nd other solutions.

Gunnbjorn nodded. Other supplies are scarce as well. We

may have to raid the farrow or even the skorne, though we

are not eager to provoke them.

The faces at the table looked to Madrak. They all had

questions. They wanted direction, and they looked totheir chief to provide a path forward. He couldnt see it.

Beneath the table, Kargess gave his hand a squeeze, which

he returned. She was the bedrock beneath the shifting sands

upon which he had been walking of late. He felt the faith

she had in him steady his footing once more.

There will be time to discuss such matters, Horthol said,

sensing his friends mood. For now, let us celebrate new

beginnings and the reunion of friends. He raised a mug.

Ale sloshed over the top and down his arm. To Chief

Ironhide. To Dag, heir of Ironhide! He will earn his own

axe soon!

The others laughed and joined his toast, as did those at the

long tables that stretched the length of the hall. Hundreds

of mugs rose and were promptly drained. Mixed feelings

assailed Madrak. He could not deny the gathering did his

heart good. Yet despite the joyousness of the occasion,

Rathrok remained an uninvited guest. He thought back to

his recent battle against the druids, to how he had nearly

given himself over to the axe in a t of blind, psychotic

rage. For one brief moment afterward, he had thought

himself free of the axe. But the respite had been eeting,

and once again he had found the weapon waiting, still

bound to him.

Without warning, Madrak saw the central re and the

various sconces go out, plunging the hall into semi-darkness.

Down the lengths of the halls tables, each laughing face

was caked with blood and bulging with putrefaction. Each

laugh, joke, and boast melded into a cacophony of pained

groans and screams. Only when Madrak began to stand

and Kargess placed a hand upon his shoulder did the room

return to normal.

What is it? Kargess asked, looking into his eyes. He

could not abide the thought of telling her his mind was

not his own.

Nothing, Madrak lied. As Horthol said, there will be time

to talk later. Let us enjoy the feast. While we can, he thought.

You spent so long away from us, Kargess said later, when

they had returned to their hut. Yet your mind seems no

clearer than when you left. At the opposite end of the

room, Dag slept in his cradle, and she spoke softly so as

not to wake him. Madrak faced away from her, leaning

against the door frame, and she eyed his back wearily. He

had seemed distracted during the feast, and he appeared no

better now that they were alone.

It is the mountain kings. Even at a distance, I bear them in

mind. I cannot command them from here, but I must workto remind them of my previous orders, to keep them from

descending. It is exhausting.

She couldnt recall ever hearing him sound so tired. I am

sure that is a strain, but there is more, she said. Do not

shut me out. Tell me, what truly troubles you?

Madrak shook his head as he turned back to her. I failed,

he said after a time. That which I sought to cast off remains.

The curse is not broken.

Put it out of your mind. The important thing is you have

returned. Your people need you, Madrak. I have done my

best to hold them together, as have Grissel and the others,but they have been through a great deal.

Yes. Grim told me of the hardships. Even so, my presence

can bring nothing but misery. It was cowardly for me to

return. I wanted to come home, but we have no home now.

Not truly.

She let that stand for long seconds and then said, You

sound as if you are considering leaving again. You are

talking yourself into the wrong course. Your desire for

homecoming was right. Your heart knows it. Your people

have lost their friends, their families, their homes. But they

still nd harmony in kith, kriel, and kin. Do not deprivethem of their chief again.

Too many have fallen on my account. There was

desperation in his words. She knew she was seeing a side

of him he would never reveal to another. She recalled the

look of horror that crossed his face at the feast. Whatever

haunted him had found its voice on the road and whispered

louder than ever. She hated the axe he bore, but it was too

late for such regrets.


13/95

It is not just dreams any longer, is it? she asked. The

nightmares nd you even when you are awake.

He nodded. If you saw the things I have seen, you would

understand why it is best I leave.

No. She said it atly, authoritatively, but with no anger.

He looked up, startled. Kargess continued, It is of no use.

You cannot leave your family. Even were you to walk awayfrom us, I would nd a way to stand beside you. What did

going off on your own accomplish? I know you had to try,

but stop punishing yourself. Everything you have done,

you have done from a desire to do right by your people.

Perhaps there is a curse. Even so, it does not follow only

you. It affects us all.

He stared at her slack-jawed. I had not considered this.

Let us say troubles are drawn to us, and Rathrok is the

cause. So be it. We will face them together. Your fate and

that of your kin are one. We will ght, and if need be die,

together. Let your people support you as you have foughtfor us. Let me stand at your side. Whatever burdens you

bear, you do not face them alone. She took his hand in hers.

Thank you, Madrak said as he took her in his arms. Your

words are true. We must stand united. Together, perhaps we

have hope.

There in the darkness, Kargess nally felt that Madrak had

come home at last.

NORTHERN KHADOR, SOUTH OF THE SHARD SPIRES

Along the outer walls separating the town of Daliskov from

the frozen tundra beyond, alarm bells were ringing. The

towns defenders rushed to its defense, only to meet their

doom at the hands and maws of the glacier kings.

Doomshaper grunted in approval as another section of the

towns walls crumbled under the assault. The crackle of rie

re had surged when the rst troll breached the defenses,

but now the shots came in sporadic bursts. Through the

whole gruesome scene he thought of the Old Witchs

demands to stay clear of the town. He hoped she watched

from some remote perch, vexed at his deance. For too long

the kin had bowed to threats.

Once the glacier kings were past the wall and into the towns

streets, the kriel warriors of the north surged through the

gap, eager to cut down any remaining Khadoran defenders.

People were screaming and eeing their homes while

soldiers sought to provide covering re. Doomshaper

followed the glacier kings through the gap with Mulg

lumbering at his side. The persistent call of birds hung on

the air. Handfuls of crows stared down in judgment from

their pearch atop a battered, leaning watchtower. Such birds

were sometimes the old crones eyes, Doomshaper knew.

Look on all you like! Doomshaper shouted to the crows.

He pointed the tip of his staff in their direction. Your

talons have no power here. The hunger of the Shard Spires

has come for those who would trespass on kriel lands.

He treaded through freshly fallen snow left behind by the

glacier kings. There was little blood and fewer wounded;

the appetites of the great troll legends did not allow forprisoners. Ahead, a church topped with a bronze Radiance

of Morrow ruptured into a hail of splinters as a glacier king

drove a st through the roof and proceeded to devour those

huddled inside.

Shots rang out, and a bullet tore past Doomshapers head.

A handful of Winter Guard huddled in the skeleton of a

building worked to reload their ries. Doomshaper gave

Mulg a mental command and the dire troll charged, bellowing

in rage at the attempt to harm his master. A wide swipe of his

club splintered the remains of a wall and caught the nearest

guardsman hard enough to shatter the mans ribs and send

him crashing into his comrades. The tangle of soldiers ailedin the snow, panic plain on their faces. Those posted here

were inexperienced and complacent, distinct from Khadoran

garrisons closer to contested borders. It had been years

since the inhabitants of this region feared the nearest kriels.

Doomshaper doubted they would feel so secure after this.

Mulg brought his club down and crushed the remaining

Winter Guard. The dire troll huffed, exhaling clouds of

vapor into the cold air as he looked about for further threats.

Overhead, the call of crows sounded again. Hundreds

perched on the shattered structures and hundreds more

circled above the heads of the glacier kings. Clouds of black

wings approached Daliskovs shattered walls from the

distant mountains, growing more distinct as they neared.

A pair of crows dived for the shamans head, striking

ineffectively with their beaks before returning to the

sky. Others streaked past Mulg, who swatted at them inaggravation. The glacier kings, too, were beset by beaks

and talons, more a nuisance than a real threat, though

the concentration of birds suggested something greater

at play. Doomshaper felt a prickling of unfamiliar magic

along his skin.

The sky went black, the sun no match for the myriad wings

gathered above. Without warning, the crows descended to

envelop those beneath them.

YOUR WORDS ARE TRUE. WE

MUST STAND UNITED. TOGETHER,

PERHAPS WE HAVE HOPE.


14/95

THE KEY TURNS

12

The Old Witch seeks to deter us, Doomshaper shouted

to Mulg over the din of the crows, but she knows not our

strength! He turned to one of the pygs who assisted in

bearing his scrolls and pointed sharply at one of the smaller

tubes. Quickly! We must unravel her efforts. No, the one

below that!

The pyg adjusted his grip on the tied bundle, extractedthe scroll Doomshaper demanded, and thrust it into the

shamans hand. With a twist, the parchment unfurled to

reveal an old rubbing taken from a long-destroyed stone.

Doomshaper held the scroll high before him and read the

words in a booming voice. Runes blazed into existence

and orbited the staff he clutched in his other hand. He

raised his voice higher, as though the words would beat

back the cloud of crows. Then he, too, was enveloped, as

was Mulg. Soon there was nothing on the wind but the

shrill calls of crows.

Each swirling column of crows drew in on itself and then

exploded outward in a rush. Birds scattered in every

direction, reeling and diving to avoid one another. Then

they streaked toward the horizon, a streaming dark ock

heading south.

Doomshaper, Mulg, and the glacier kings were nowhere

to be seen. The kriel warriors looked about in confusion.

Then a series of metal barbs erupted from the ground to

skewer them. The warriors cried out as the metal puncturedtheir legs and pierced their torsos. Those not killed outright

struggled to free themselves.

The whistle of escaping steam echoed in the shattered town.

Scrapjack darted into the street seconds later. Its two long

legs pumped furiously, pistons hissing, before the machine

crashed talons-rst into one of the impaled trollkin.

The old woman followed close behind. She slashed through

the invaders with her own blackened-iron talons, easily

stepping aside from the downward stroke of an axe before

driving her blades between a different trollkins ribs. Within

minutes the remaining trollkin hung limp from the barbs that

held up their bodies, and the town was quiet once again.

THE BLOODSTONE MARCHES

Calaban kept a low prole, moving among the arid hills

that bordered the northwestern reaches of the Bloodstone


15/95

Marches. The heat and dry environment left him distinctly

uncomfortable, but he tried to ignore the itching between

his scales. The warlock was grateful the timing allowed

him to carry out the rendezvous under cover of darkness.

Maelok moved alongside him, the ames of the various

candles crowning his head burning low in the dark. A

handful of undead bog trogs shambled behind them with

glassy eyes. A single gatorman bokor with unwaveringloyalty was the only living being in the entourage.

Regardless of the outcome, the even meeting was an act

of treachery. Calaban could ill afford to bring anyone who

might inform his temperamental leader what transpired

among them.

Since the Blindwater Congregation started traveling through

the hills, trees and waterways had become increasingly rare,

and being out in the open made Calaban feel exposed. He

cursed Barnabas for his insistence that they travel to such

a miserable place on nothing more than the visions of the

death charmer Jaga-Jaga.

An unlikely opportunity had presented itself. An army

of farrow converged from the west toward the same

destination as their own, led by warlocks Calaban had

fought before. Despite earlier skirmishes, the bokor

thought he might have a kindred spirit in the opposing

camp, a human advisor to the farrow warlord who desired

this conict as little as Calaban did. Whether the human

held enough sway to alter the farrows plans remained to

be seen. Calaban had risked much to arrange the meeting,

relying on discreet messages carried by enslaved spirits. To

this point his efforts had gone unnoticed by rival bokors;

he could only hope his luck held.Such risks were necessary. While Calaban had so far

weathered Barnabas crusade for godhood, the time to seek

the safety of the shallows had passed. The roaring falls of

the warlocks ascension neared. All that remained was to

avoid the rocks below the plunge. To openly suggest they

veer from the course would result in punishments worse

than death. Calaban knew he must take a more circuitous

and ambitious route.

Even as a degree of excitement stirred within him,

Dr. Arkadius questioned his own judgment. As a man of

science, he had been reluctant to listen to the strange swamp

spirits that had visited him over the past several nights. The

majority of his previous contact with gatormen had been

hostile. He remembered the clash in the Marchfells not long

ago, when he very nearly lost his life ghting alongside

Lord Carver. Despite this, when the latest swamp spirit

came calling, his curiosity got the better of him.

His nger traced the trigger of his combat syringe as he

stared out into the dark. A pair of war hogs anked him

and several gun boars waited atop a nearby hill. Targ stood

at his back, quiet as always. Now and then the pistons of

the war hogs mechanical arms let out a hiss that sounded

unusually loud in the nights quiet. In the distance, a faint

glow like that of candles winked at him, and as the light

drew closer several forms took shape.

A trio of gatormen walked at the fore, a dozen smaller

gures shufing behind in the ickering candlelight. His

two war hogs bristled, but Arkadius mentally held them in

check. He recognized the leading masked gatorman as one

of the opposing leaders involved in the Marchfells dispute.

He recalled that this one had invoked powerful magic,

summoning an enormous malevolent specter that nearly

caused the death of Lord Carver and Arkadius both. He was

not certain he had implemented sufcient precautions for

the meeting.

Greetings, roskaahn. I did not think . . . you would come,the masked gatorman said in a rasp, struggling with a rough

version of Cygnaran ill-suited to his anatomy. Arkadius

knew the literal translation of the Quor-gar term to be pink

skin but did not take offense. I am Calaban . . . bokor of . . .

Fenn Marsh tribes. The stench of decay emanated from the

gatormans allies, most of whom appeared undead. While

not surprising, this fact did somewhat unsettle Arkadius.

He felt at a disadvantage ghting against such creatures,

given the majority of his expertise relied on living tissues.

I am Dr. Arkadius, he replied, also in Cygnaran. I know

your tongue. You may speak freely. He found himself

considering gatorman anatomy and the myriad distinctionsbetween these creatures and the farrow he often had under

his knife. The reptiles were an impressive canvas, though

their biological systems were less sophisticated than those

of mammals. Impressive as their anatomy might beand

clearly they were nearly perfect killing machinestheir esh

was less mutable. Nonetheless, he imagined schematics for

mechanized jaws and enhanced limbs as they spoke. Aloud

he asked, You have matters to discuss?

Indeed. The bokor turned his head to the side, eyeing

Arkadius with a single yellow orb. The same trouble

plagues us both. Our lives are bound to leaders with large

dreams but small minds. These lords think they lead, while

in truth wecontrol the waters ow. Our armies pursue the

same prey. We are destined to butcher each other ghting

over scraps. To what end?

Arkadius nodded. Upon answering Carvers summons for

the current campaign he had vehemently expressed concerns

on the matter, only to be silenced. Every farrow that Lord

Carver expended in this foolish battle was a lost resource

better employed elsewheresuch as in his own work.


16/95

THE KEY TURNS

14

Cautiously he said, I do not have the ability to control

Lord Carver. With his newfound interest in Helga the

Conqueror, Carver was proving even more intractable than

usual. His desire to prove his ghting worth to his potential

mate took precedence over all other concerns.

Barnabas is similar, Calaban hissed, the name seeming

to evoke frustration within him. He seeks slaughterregardless of the cost. He will hear of nothing else.

If neither of us can inuence these events, then it seems

we are at an impasse, no matter how reasonable we each

might be, Arkadius replied. I fail to see the point of this

conference.

This is not an impasse, but a crossroads, Calaban said.

A sound that might have been laughter stuttered from the

bokors maw, but the creatures eyes remained devoid of

emotion. We must see Barnabas struck down. Youmust see

him struck down. Slay him, and under my command the

Congregation will withdraw and leave you the spoils.

Interesting, Arkadius said. The notion of internal treachery

within the ranks of the gatormen had not occurred to him,

though it was not surprising. He knew from his studies

that gatorman society obeyed an ordinarily rigid social

hierarchy, though when change transpired it came violently.Still, he knew better than to trust Calaban. Gatorman beliefs

regarding honor and obligation were an unknown. Even if

those notions existed, the creatures might not feel obliged to

apply them to an outsider.

The individual before him did have his own interests.

It seemed logical that he might withdraw his forces after

usurping power, to preserve his remaining strength.

Agreeing to such a plan would cost the doctor nothing.

Success would mean reduced casualties and fewer setbacks

for his work; failure would leave the farrow in the same

position they already occupied.

Already he imagined broaching the subject with Lord

Carver, perhaps painting the reptilian leader as a prize to

prove his reputation to his prospective mate. The farrow

warlord was easily motivated by the desire for a worthy

opponent, and if Arkadius were to present the information

in the presence of the warlords subordinates, Carver would

have little choice.

Very well. I will see what I can do.

Maelok followed obediently behind Calaban as they headed

back to camp. From the open manner in which Calaban

ruminated on his plans to his living bokur, it was clear to

Maelok that his master considered him nothing more than

a helpless slave.

Although Maelok remained bound to Calaban, the integrity

of the mystical threads that dictated his actions was fraying.

For months he had mentally gnawed at these bonds. His

acts of resistance were minor and only gradually increased

in frequency. This rebelliousness included trekking into

secluded swamplands to practice magic without permission.

Together, these acts compounded into something resembling

deance. His was a tenuous and untested freedom, secreted

away in his stilled heart. Now it seemed to him he must act

against his enslaver soon, amid the chaos of the upcoming

battle, before Calaban elevated himself to greater standing.

Not a word of this, Calaban hissed to the living bokor

at his side. We will make what use of the doctor we can.

If all goes well, we will consecrate my transition to leader

of the Congregation with the blood of the farrow leader.

Calaban did not turn back to offer the warning to Maelok

or the undead bog trogs behind him. For all his scheming

he was oblivious to the hatred directed at him from the old

enemy at his back.

THE BLOODSTONE DESERT

Void Seer Mordikaar traversed the barren wastes of the

Bloodstone Desert, and spirits of the Void followed him.

He had grown accustomed to their ceaseless wails as they

swirled about the edges of the gateway in reality that had

trailed him since his escape from the Void. From the time

he was cast from the battle at Scarleforth Lake by one of

the dirt mystic leaders, the rage of the spirits seemed more

palpable. The portal attached to him ickered and stretched

as if something large lurking in the Void longed to be set free.

The face of the cowled human who had banished Mordikaar

to the heart of the desert lled his mind, and each step he

took was accompanied by a promise of vengeance. The

cleverness of the dirt mystics actions bothered him more

than the discomfort of his current situation. He and themystic had met once before, outside the Castle of the Keys,

when Mordikaars inseparable link to the Void stayed the

mystics hand. This time, rather than seek to kill him, the

mystic found a different solution. Mordikaar still did not

comprehend the ritual through which he had been thrust

deep into the desert. He had felt a rush of unfamiliar power

and then the world simply vanished, to be replaced by

an entirely foreign environment far from the Army of the

Western Reaches.

HE SEEKS SLAUGHTER

REGARDLESS OF THE COST.

HE WILL HEAR OF NOTHING ELSE.


17/95

The desert sun beat down on his withered skin. Multiple

sandstorms had assailed him in the last few days. He had

eaten littleonly the occasional lizard emerging from

beneath the sand at night. He was alone with his thoughts

and the wails of Void spirits.

His body had passed the point when most mortals

would have collapsed from exhaustion, starvation, anddehydration. He could feel his blood pumping rhythmically

just beneath his skin and the slow burn of his muscles as

his legs continued to propel him forward long after they

should have stopped. To be skorne and a mortitheurge was

to be empowered to weather such hardships. Countless

skorne over the centuries had deed the elements to cross

equally inhospitable wastes under even harsher conditions.

But such travels required at least marginal supplies. With

no food or water, the challenge of the task multiplied. Even

mortitheurgy had limits.

Though Mordikaars body continued to function, it

resembled a dried husk. It began to consume itself forsustenance, a process slowed only by the infusion of energy

provided by his will. He tottered on the edge of life and

death, a balance he was convinced relied on his inexplicable

link to the Void as much as on his mystical skill. He sensed

a slow trickle of cold energy owing from the Void into his

shufing form, a substitute for natural vitality. Something

in the back of his mind warned him not to become too

comfortable with this arrangement.

A familiar presence brushed his consciousness, and

Mordikaars ceaseless march stopped abruptly. In all the time

spent walking, he had encountered no one. And yet there it

was again, a distant prod of familiarity. Mordikaar blinked atthe horizon. At the edge of his vision, the form of a shambling

beast stood out amid the hues of the desert. As it neared,

plates of armor decorated in the red and gold of the empire

took shape, as did the lanterns swaying from curved hooks

that protruded from the beasts back and hung over its head.

Relief washed over the void seer as the beast known as the

Despoiler closed the distance. A product of countless hours

of experimentation, the beast was as much a manifestation

of the Void as a living creature. He could feel its life force

thrumming. Mordikaar drew upon the energy of the beast,

pulling stamina from its body into his own. The sense of

detachment he had been experiencing lessened. For a

moment he held the Despoilers gaze, admiring the loyalty

instilled in his creation.

We continue west, Mordikaar said, speaking to himself

more than the Despoiler. I have unnished business

beyond the sands. With renewed vigor, he continued

toward the skorne fortresses he knew awaited him, the

Despoiler plodding after. The spirits of the Void screamed

behind him, their mouths echoing some inevitable doom.

Mordikaar stood rooted in the sand. He was looking

over his shoulder, his gaze tracing the edge of the Void

portal drifting behind him. A subtle distortion worked

at the portals rim. At times it seemed to elongate and

lean to one side, as if pulled by some inexplicable force.The distortion had become more pronounced since he

first noticed it several hours earlier and the pull seemed

to originate from somewhere to the northwest. He had

never witnessed such an anomaly and felt certain it was

significant.

The vast desert sands had given way to hardpan, here and

there broken by rock formations. The void seer recalled

seeing these landmarks on his initial voyage into the west,

and he felt sure his current course would lead him directly

back to the Castle of the Keys, where he could continue

his work. If he altered his course and headed north, he

could nd Tyrants Lash or one of the smaller outposts

in the region. Once he reported in and resupplied, he

could devote his attention to nding the source of the

irregularity. His mind turned to the extended ritual that

had been performed by the dirt mystics at the river battle,

and he wondered if the two were related. Despite the

narrow-minded opinions of his peers, Mordikaar knew

now that they had underestimated this foe.

The clatter of lanterns sounded, and Mordikaar turned to

see the Despoiler crest a dune. The struggling form of a

lizard dangled by its tail from the Despoilers st, trying

in vain to bite its captor. From time to time the Despoilerdisappeared into the desert to return with a wriggling

morsel. Mordikaars pace had doubled since the beast

rejoined him, his health restored through the small inux of

nourishment the Despoiler retrieved.

Mordikaars lanterns glowed and the lizard thrashed as

it died. The void seer absorbed the animals vitality and a

surge of warmth owed through his limbs. He then plucked

the lizard from the Despoilers grip and sank his teeth into

its neck. The esh was tough and unappealing, but the

trickle of blood helped to satiate his thirst. As he ate he

considered his options, weighing his current path against

seeking the origins of the portals pull.

Mordikaars return to his former post would most certainly

see his time devoted to Makedas campaign through either

combat or the harvesting of more void spirits for the war

effort. The matter of the unidentied anomaly would go

unexamined, and this prospect vexed him. He felt a growing

certainty that he should not ignore whatever was affecting

the gateway to the Void. He had spent his life in pursuit of

tough answers.


18/95

THE KEY TURNS

16

He wiped a smear of blood from his chin and looked in the

direction of the pull.

Come, Mordikaar said to the Despoiler, tossing the husk

of the lizard onto the sand. Let us walk our own path.

Neither Hexeris nor Makeda know where I am, and they

can do without me a little longer. He turned to follow the

tug of his portal, feeling immediate relief as he did so. Thesufferings endured on his journey were nothing against the

torment of questions without answers.

NORTHERN BLOODSTONE MARCHES

Throughout the camp, trollkin worked to establish a

permanent holding. Their departure from Scarleforth Lake

and ight from the encroaching skorne had been bloody

and perilous, motivating the kin to put all their effort into

erecting a defensible home. Behind them, the mountains

bordering southern Ios loomed. Though the soil at the base

of the great mountain range was not as fertile as the string

of lands they had been forced to relinquish, the kriels once

native to the Thornwood and other war-torn regions hopedthey might carve out a life here.

Gunnbjorn had set about constructing defenses shortly after

their arrival. The inner fortress of the settlement stood largely

complete now, awaiting only nishing touches. The perimeter

comprised of wall segments interspersed with buildings

curved out from the mountainside to contain the feast hall,

a kuar dueling platform, and a number of workshops and

homes. The buildings making up this walls length served

as watchtowers, their tops broad and open to support the

positioning of thumper crews. The towers stood thirty feet

high, and occasional openings from which pygs could re

their ries dotted the face of each one. The sides of the walls

were sloped to ward off cannon re, and trenches at the base

of each segment limited the options of assailants. Tunnels

burrowed into the mountain itself to unearth additional

materials as well as creating storage and refuge spaces.

A sea of stone homes peppered with the occasional tent

stretched out beyond the wall. At the edges of this outer

village, groups of runeshapers led by Janissa Stonetide

worked to build a secondary wall long enough to

enclose the entirety of the gathered kriels. This wall was

still largely incompletethe long sections erected by

different construction teams would eventually be joined,but for the moment large gaps still separated them. In

addition to transporting stone from the mountainside, the

runeshapers sought out materials long buried beneath the

earth. Now and then they pulled a slab of rock from the

ground and guided it into place alongside slabs carved at

the mountain quarries.

A number of stonemasons worked to craft the stone to the

required specications, their tools ringing out rhythmically.

The cadence was oddly soothing, perhaps speaking to the

portions of the Dhunian faith deeply rooted to the earth.

Dire trolls traveled between the slopes and the construction

area, transporting enormous boulders. The incomplete

outer wall would serve as the rst line of defense, to be

abandoned if warriors found it necessary to retreat to the

inner village and its more extensive protections.

In a cleared area within the outer wall, Grissel Bloodsong

supervised the training of able-bodied trollkin warriors

drawn from dozens of kriels. Lines of kriel warriors trained

here, driving axes and clubs into shields and stepping into

and out of reach with practiced footwork. Those present

had proven themselves in combat over the past months,

but Grissel insisted they keep in top ghting form. Though

many were veteran warriors, most were just now learning a

regimented style of formation ghting, borrowed from the

humans by Grissel and Gunnbjorn.

Hunger was rapidly becoming a problem. Game had been

scarce. A considerable portion of what the hunting partiesbrought in was allocated to the dire trolls to keep their

hungermade worse by the demands of physical labor

from turning toward the trollkin working to nish the

fortications. The warriors, too, had to be kept ready to

defend the hold. There was strength in numbers, but keeping

so many bellies full proved challenging. Now, with the return

of Madrak and his mountain kings, the strain was worse than

ever. There was talk of raids on farrow tribes to the south, if

it could be managed without provoking the nearer, better-

defended skorne.

Madrak had guided the hulking mountain kings partway

up the Iosan slopes to avoid unwelcome snacking, andfor now they seemed content to heft large stones into

their maws or uproot the occasional tree for consumption.

Thanks to the chieftains recent clash with Circle forces,

stories of gargantuans devouring trollkin and druids

alike circulated through the camp, and worries about the

bottomless hunger of the great troll legends circulated

with them.

Calandra Truthsayer considered the problem as she stood just

beyond the southern portion of the outer wall. She initiated

an extended divination, hoping to nd hints about how to

add to the food stores. She cast a handful of small twig-like

bones to clatter in the dirt, then squinted at them closely. She

ran a thick nger over their edges, feeling a connection to the

land when she touched them. As with all types of divination,

the answers were cryptic. Though she had spent the past

hour casting and recasting the bones, she had yet to get to the

crux of their meaning. Ordinarily portents came easily to her,

but not since arriving at their desolate new home.

What say those old bones, Calandra?


19/95

The shaman looked up to see Janissa Stonetide approach,

her pickaxe Earthsplitter resting on one shoulder.

Although Calandra had limited interaction with the young

runeshaper, she had seen Janissas skill at manipulating

stone rsthand. Without her efforts, they could never have

made such rapid progress toward Gunnbjorns ambitious

plans for defending the settlement.

Nothing I can make heads or tails of, Calandra said.

They prefer to keep their secrets. She took a last look at

the scattered bones before gathering them into her hands.

How goes work on the wall? I see you have no shortage

of stone.

Raw stone isnt the problem. Its the worked stone thats

harder to come by, plus enough strong hands to place it

where its supposed to go. I could use some of Grissels

people, or a few of the dozens we have out scrounging for

food. Janissa planted Earthsplitter at her feet, leaned on

the haft, and sighed. Not that I begrudge anyone the need

to eat. But seems to me most of those hunters spend all dayroaming without anything to show for it.

Food is the issue at hand, Calandra said, distracted. Again

she cast the bones and examined the patterns, and again

she saw the same muddled meanings. Bounty, she said,

uttering the word as little more than a whisper. Nonsense.

Bounty?

Calandra grunted. At rst I thought the pattern warned

of a stampede, but now it looks like bounty. I keep trying

to gure out if theres a location where we can nd a herd

of something the hunters missed, but it keeps telling me its

already here. The signs are clearly wrong.

As if to emphasize the lack of food, an angry howl rose

from one of the dire trolls along the partially complete wall,

and it threw its load of stone to the ground in a tantrum. A

nearby shaman settled it down by giving it a large strip of

dried meat. For a trollkin the meat might have been a meal,

but for a dire troll it was a paltry snack. Janissa looked at

Calandra with skepticism. If your windfall is on the way, I

hope it gets here sooner than later.

Calandra nodded, thinking how portents came in many

forms. For all she knew, the bones spoke of the feast the

mountain kings could enjoy if they devoured the gatheredkriels. Dismissing such harsh logic, she scrutinized the

signs once more, trying to look past obvious interpretations

for a better solution.

Janissa looked off at the horizon, taking in the harsh

landscape. Whats that? she asked, squinting and hooding

her eyes with one hand. Following her gaze, Calandra saw a

cloud of dust billowing in the distance.

Calandra turned her attention to the inner wall and those

toiling along the top of it. Hey, Prag! she called to one of

the bushwhackers who kept a spyglass. Give me an eye on

that dust cloud!

The pyg snapped off a salute and took his spyglass from the

leather tube at his waist. He extended the telescoping brass

tube and placed one end to his eye before sweeping the lensover the horizon.

Well? Janissa yelled up. Out with it!

Farrow, Prag called back. A lot of farrow. And bigger

pigs, too.

With a sinking feeling, the meaning of the bones became

clear in Calandras mind. Why the farrow would gather to

march against them in such a remote area was beyond her

understanding, but that didnt matter now. She and Janissa

exchanged a look. Calandra shouted toward the wall,

Raise the alarm! Tell Grissel theyre coming!

Stampede, Janissa said, hefting Earthsplitter onto her

shoulder. It appears your bounty is upon us. I suppose

work on the walls will have to wait.

AS IF TO EMPHASIZE THE LACK OF

FOOD, AN ANGRY HOWL ROSE FROM

ONE OF THE DIRE TROLLS ALONG

THE PARTIALLY COMPLETE WALL.


20/9518

WARBEASTS: Trollblood non-character warbeasts, Mulg the Ancient

UNITS:Krielstone Bearer & Stone Scribes, Pyg units

SOLOS:Pyg solos, Troll Whelps

WARBEASTS:Circle non-characterliving warbeasts, Ghetorix

UNITS:Sentry Stone & Mannikins, Shifting Stones,Tharn units

SOLOS:Tharn solos

Permission is hereby granted to create reproductions of this page for personal, non-commercial use only.

TIER 1Requirements: The army can include only the models

listed above.

Benet:Models in the army gain +2 ARM during the rstround of the game.

TIER 2Requirements: The army includes Troll Whelps.

Benet:Warbeasts in the army gain +2 SPD during the rst

round of the game.

TIER 3Requirements:The army includes one or more units with

Advance Deployment .

Benet:You gain +1 on your starting roll for the game.

TIER 4Requirements:The army includes two or moregargantuans.

Benet:Reduce the cost of gargantuans in this army by 2.

TIER 1Requirements: The army can include only the models

listed above.

Benet:Increase the FA of Tharn units and solos by 1.

TIER 2

Requirements: The army includes one or moreBloodweaver models/units.

Benet:For each Bloodweaver unit or solo in the army,up to one model in the army with Heart Eater gains one

corpse token at the start of the game. The same model cangain multiple corpse tokens but cannot gain more corpse

tokens than it could gain normally.

TIER 3Requirements:The army includes three or more light

warbeasts.

Benet:Reduce the cost of light warbeasts by 1.

TIER 4

Requirements:The army includes one or more SentryStone & Mannikins units.

Benet:For each Sentry Stone & Mannikins unit inthe army, place one 3AOE forest template anywhere

completely within 20of the back edge of Kromacsdeployment zone after terrain has been placed but before

either player deploys his army. Forest templates cannot beplaced within 3of another terrain feature including otherforest templates.

THEME FORCES

KROMAC,CHAMPION OF THE WURMBLOOD PRICE

HOARLUK DOOMSHAPER, DIRE PROPHETIMMOVABLE MOUNTAINS


21/95

SAERYN & RHYAS, TALONS OF EVERBLIGHTMIGHT & MAGIC

WARBEASTS:Legion non-characterwarbeasts, Zuriel

UNITS:Blighted Nyss Swordsmen, HexHunters

SOLOS:Blighted Nyss Sorceress & Hellion, Incubi,Spell Martyrs

TIER 1Requirements: The army can include only the modelslisted above.

Benet:Increase the FA of non-character Blighted Nyss

Swordsman and Hex Hunter units and unit attachments inthe army by 1.

TIER 2Requirements: The army includes one or more Spell

Martyrs.

Benet:Spell Martyrs gain Stealth during the rstround of the game.

TIER 3Requirements:The army includes three or more differentNephilim warbeasts.

Benet:Nephilim warbeasts gain Advance Move. (Before

the start of the game but after both players have deployed,a model with Advance Move can make a full advance.)

TIER 4Requirements:The army includes one or more units of

Blighted Nyss Swordsmen and one or more units of HexHunters.

Benet:Reduce the point cost of Nephilim Soldiers andNephilim Bloodseers in the army by 1.

Permission is hereby granted to create reproductions of this page for personal, non-commercial use only.

ZAAL, THE ANCESTRAL ADVOCATEEXALTED LEGIONS

WARBEASTS:Skorne non-characterwarbeasts

UNITS:Paingiver Beast Handlers, Skorne Construct units

SOLOS:Skorne Construct solos

TIER 1Requirements:The army can include only the modelslisted above.

Benet:Increase the FA of non-character Construct unitsand solos in the army by 1.

TIER 2Requirements:The army includes two or more warbeastswith SPD 6 or greater.

Benet:Your deployment zone is extended 2forward.

TIER 3Requirements:The army includes two or more Immortalsunits.

Benet:Add an attachment to one Immortals unit freeof cost. This attachment does not count toward FA

restrictions.

TIER 4Requirements:The army includes three or more

Construct solos.

Benet:Construct solos in the army begin the game with

three soul tokens.


22/95


23/95

OUTER UNITED KRIELS VILLAGE, NORTHERNBLOODSTONE MARCHES

Grissel whipped Resounder through the air again, connecting

solidly with the chest of the nearest farrow to send the creature

crashing into his fellows in a broken heap. She belted out onefell call after another, and up and down the unnished expanses

of the southern outer wall, her warriors held fast against the

invasion. The farrow were numerous but unorganized, and

the outer defenses, though incomplete, provided the kriel

defenders with bottlenecks to hold the opposing army at bay.

Fire! Gunnbjorns deep voice roared from atop the outer

wall. Show those mangy cutthroats what it means to take

up arms against the United Kriels! All along the structures

length sounded the crackle and boom of ries, thumper

cannons, and mortar re as those under Gunnbjorns

command let y another barrage. Louder discharges rang

out from behind the warriors holding the gaps, where halfa dozen war wagons were ring their pounders over the

heads of trollkin engaged in melee. Farrow clutched at

mortal wounds as the shots found their marks, or were torn

apart and launched into the air by artillery re. The trollkin

were holding and the farrow were taking casualties, but the

steadily increasing number of enemies amassing beyond

the walls made Grissel uneasy. This was no gathering of a

few opportunistic local tribes. Among the gathering horde

loomed the hulking forms of warbeasts anking farrow

warlords that had yet to join the battle.

Conserve your ammunition, Gunnbjorn! she shouted.

She had never seen such an organized war effort from

farrowkind. Every time she thought the tide of pigs was

at an end, another band appeared. They numbered in the

thousands. Great gouts of smoke rose from large, strange

machines not entirely dissimilar to war wagons. The front of

each contraption was tted with a churning wheel laden with

spikes, and occasionally a slow farrow was pulled beneath

the deadly cylinder to leave a streak of gore as the machine

advanced. Hundreds of farrow already swarmed the walls,

yet the majority of their number waited out of range of troll

cannons and rearms. Grissel believed they were probing the

villages defenses before mounting their main assault.A pair of brigands leapt at her with their clubs. She evaded

the rst, but the second scored a glancing blow on her

shoulder. She caught the offending farrow in the face with a

backswing, and one of the kriel warriors anking her struck

down the other. The nearest brigands fell back to regroup

while pygs on the wall behind red on them.

Grissel stepped back and turned, hearing her name called.

Do you think we can hold? Calandra asked, looking

harried.

I believe so. The greater question is how long before the

farrow cut their losses and run. Where are we with the

withdrawal?

Ive met some resistance of my own, Calandra said,

jerking her chin in the direction of trollkin warriors who

were setting up makeshift defenses around a cluster of

recently erected houses. Many of them are tired of trading

one home for another. Its going to take more than farrow

to convince them to pack up and hide behind the walls at

the inner fort.

Cant say that I blame them, Grissel said. She looked to

the gates in the center of the inner village wall. A steady

stream of trollkin were passing through, mostly the elderly

and those too young to ght. Grissel hoped to preserve the

outer village, but they were preparing to get everyone to

safety in case their defenses were overrun. In the distance,she could see Madrak returning from the mountains with

the mountain kings. If she could hold back the farrow until

they arrived, the invading force might be shattered outright.

The two of them heard a shout and turned to see one of the

scouts from the western wall rushing toward them, the look

on his face eloquently expressing his alarm and disbelief.

The sight knotted Gr

hordes - devastation

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