Feel like burning like a bright wizard? Being as green as a gobbo? Robust like an Ironbreaker? Bloodthirsty like a witch elf? Feel free to speak as them here.
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Weeks at sea, and finally Ulthuan was in sight. The black ark had moved seemingly slowly, pulled by sorcery and fell beasts beneath the waters, hidden behind a deep mist that would appear to those on the coast as a storm cloud. And the storm had come at last.
The ark ground to a halt on the northern shores of one of the Blighted Isles, lightly defended by small groups of High Elves who were no match for the forces that soon marched out of their city-sized vessel. Within a few hours their resistance was crushed, and the Druchii took little time in establishing a stronghold on the mainland. Soon the plaza looked like any in Naggaroth; walls of steel with razor sharp defences surrounded the ark’s landing, the heads of the slain decorating the parapets.
As thanks were given to Khaine for a successful arrival, Caranordor, Commander of the Kar Khadath Regiment observed these lands ripe for spoil, as he gathered his officers to him; Vjun, Captain of the military ranks, Dread Lord Telalis of Clar Karond, and Ithilsyn, seeress of Ghrond. The latter two had waited on the Blighted Isle for the arrival of this mighty force, and their patience and negotiations of merging their resources had been rewarded. Telalis looked forward with cautious eagerness as the great doors of the ark opened outwards, and with a barked command from Caranordor, ranks of well disciplined Druchii warriors marched out in rank and file.
The Commander stepped forward, “Welcome to the so-called ‘Blighted Isle’, kin. Here we will break the back of the Phoenix King and claim what’s ours. The Witch King has decreed that the orderly ranks of the Nagrar Regiment join with the cunning Druchii of Drukhae Khalir... Together we fight under one banner of Kar Khadath.”
With an expression of barely veiled contempt he continued, “I shall mold you curs into instruments of war, or break you in the process. Show me you are worthy of the Witch King’s service.”
In a shout he ordered, “Form a line!”
The new arrivals quickly organised themselves into something orderly, through fear or discipline, it was not clear. Yet they followed the command immediately, which was reassuring at least. Caranordor hissed to them, “I require your absolute loyalty and iron discipline. Anything less and you will be fed to the nauglir. Is that understood?”
“Now. Let’s see what we have here...”
Stepped out from their long voyage aboard the gloom shrouded ark, blinking in the bright light of Ulthuan, the Druchii introduced themselves to their officers. Various levels of skill and society had answered Malekith’s decree to rally under Kar Khadath’s banner. They shared their deeds with their superiors, in hopes of gaining favour and good stead within the ranks, with tales of slaves taken and prisoners flayed. Nothing would impress like the trial of combat, a little sport and bloodshed would provide amusement whilst sprinkling the ground of conquest with an offering to Khaine.
Telalis watched the proceedings quietly. The merge had been a gamble, power was not shared, it was claimed. The seeress had secured his trust to a degree, but had Ithilsyn’s negotiations been enough to ensure that his own ambitions were not forfeit? Would they now be under the yoke of the Witch King’s army? As if reading his thoughts, she glanced at him with a steady gaze, before turning to scrutinise those who had stepped off the ark, to see if any showed talent with the arcane that could be drawn in to her secretive coven.
The niceties over, the time had come to see if deeds could match the claims dealt out by the new arrivals. They were led to a pit, to stand against each other in single combat. Vjun watched carefully assessing the skill of those to be under his command as they fought savagely against each other, encouraged by jeers and shouts of the Druchii gathered about. Those that showed promise were permitted the privilege of doing battle against their own officers, a great honour, and a means to put them in their place.
Caranordor smiled grimly to himself. Yes, this would do...
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