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King of Nothing
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Post#1 » Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:58 am



This post is designed to keep a track of each factions and achievements in the lake. It will be a community project, and it depends on you to keep it alive.

Purpose is to promote guild actions, warband leaders and players in general, days after days.

The general pitch will be roleplay (as much as possible) based in the expression. Ofc screenshots and videos are welcome.

Mutual respect and good mind will be a mandatory.

Term of use :

by [AUTHOR] of [RACE] (Name of the Character who tell the story)


Exemple (sorry i'm very bad roleplayer) :

by Rengaren of High Elves

"Last night, i cried. Enemies were all around, and even we followed this dwarf called Chezy, we have lost our beloved country. Whatever we try, Ocara and his army of misfits were here to force us to step back. Blablablalbal..."

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Post#2 » Mon Jul 09, 2018 8:29 pm

09.07.2018 Eataine: Starlit Dreams
By Eldoir of the High Elves.

"Few things surprise me, an asur who have lived and fought and bleed for many a man's lifetime. But that the forces of the Ruinous Powers along with a Druchii general named Ocara would make it as far as fair Eataine..Would that I had not lived to see such a thing. Our Huntslord, Gwelthas along with Tiriyl, Vanadesse and Giladar who where all arcmages of extrem skill and might joined ranks with Silenius, another Shadow Warrior along with myself who stood ready alongside our allies of Order in a great host to deny them the sick pleasure of despoiling Eataine.

Our united army first marched to secure The Sanctuary of Dreams,a haven filled with the very dreams of the Asur, drifting a gentle breeze at night as wisps and motes of light. The Druchii covens,Chaos Magus and the savage shamans of the Greenskins would likely seek to harness it's strange energies and powers, if given the chance. We would of course not let them.

Yet..As I stood at the Sanctuary, flanked by the delicate statues bearing the likness of Lileath, the Queen of Dreams, the surge of that dark army was beyond anything I have seen in months. Howling they came, their cruel weapons held high. My arrows must have flown and pierced a untold number of foes, but yet they still came relentlessy. I was forced to seek shelter in the Warcamp to restock my quiver. As I look upon the haven from the hill overlooking the Warcamp, I pray that the Maiden and the Cadai will grant me blessings enought to save Eataine from the wicked intentions of the Forces of Destruction....
Eldoir Duskoath SW 40/71 Shadowmaster of the Eternal Host

Strike swiftly aim true

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Post#3 » Wed Oct 17, 2018 10:49 am

The Shadowlands
Kar Khadath Regiment and Tribes of Norsca vs. The Eternal Host
Tuesday 16th October, 2018

This was a fun event between the two rival forces. We split it into 6-v-6 to make it a more enjoyable fight and rotated combatants so everyone got a go. Outranked, outgeared, and lower levelled, Destro took a pummelling, but it was a lot of fun and gave the players some goals for improvement. Everyone gave it their all, and I'm really pleased by how well they fought. Thanks for joining us. We certainly will be running more events like this! :)


The footfalls of marching troops and nauglir beat a rhythm along the road from the Unicorn Gate, banners tattered, morale low. The returning hosts’ musician raised a horn to his lips, blasting a shrill signal, and the garrison’s warhorn blew in reply. The heavy steel gates swung outwards, groaning on their hinges, as the defeated army returned.

Hissed laughter, and looks of contempt met the returning troops, lighter in number than the force that had been sent out into The Shadowlands to challenge the defenders at the Gate. Those wounded who were likely to recover were sent to the chirugeon’s tent, whilst those too badly injured to be of any use, were rounded up and dragged off to a dark corner to be put out of their misery.

Lord Revendin regarded the Command tent from atop his nauglir, steeling himself as he swung himself down from the saddle, handing the reins of the slow-witted beast to one of his retainers. His hatred gave him courage, but was it not quite enough to dissolve the sense of disgrace that saturated every part of his being. His eagerness to prove himself and ascend to a position of power had now achieved quite the opposite effect. His choices now left him with two options; resign himself to his fate with dignity, or be remembered for cowardice as well as failure.

Guards stepped in to form an avenue as Revendin began the long walk to the garrison’s black heart. Their weapons gleamed in the dull Nagarythi light, their cold eyes watching with malice. He paused, glancing back at the warriors that he had led to ruin, then turned to the Command Tent and stepped inside. Braziers smouldered with heady incense in an attempt to hide the stench of death about the camp, whilst upon the table, a map of positions of conquest, arcane items, and various scrolls lay. Throwing his cloak behind him, he bowed deeply, ‘Hail Malekith!’

The Seeress was waiting; toying with a trail of dhar, seemingly disinterested in the Druchii that fell to his knees before the throne in which she rested. Beside the large desk, a sorcerer with glowing eyes smirked, whilst an unnaturally beautiful human warrior with a golden hand stood nearby, all illuminated by flickering witchlight.

‘You return,’ she purred, glancing down slowly.

‘Yes, Dread Lady. The army fought like harpies unleashed but…’

Ithilsyn raised a hand to interrupt, finishing his sentence for him, ‘…You were defeated.’

Revendin gulped nervously, the silence that followed, falling upon him like lead.

‘You told us that this was a small band of skirmishers. Vermin to be wiped out,’ Amarthandir hissed, displeased by the ill-informed fool.

‘We were deceived,’ Revendin blurted, cursing himself internally for displaying his anxiety so.

Ithilsyn leaned forward, the dhar trail caressing Revendin gently under his chin, before throwing his head upwards so that he was forced to meet her terrible gaze. ‘Tell me what happened.’

The Druchii Lord felt his pulse beat faster, and beads of sweat formed upon his brow. He considered his words carefully before finally, he began his report.

‘We gathered near Spite’s Reach. A small unit including a maibd, two Khainites, a black guard, and two of those allies of yours,’ he frowned, throwing a quick look to Erling, adding, ‘one of their Chosen and a witch.’

‘My scouts reported only a handful of their “shadow warriors”, and at best one mage. We were met at the gates by a force far larger than ours… better equipped… more experienced… more…’

The dhar flew into him with a crash, and Revendin gasped in agony as the Sorceress expressed her displeasure. Erling smiled to himself at such suffering. Things were at last getting “interesting”.

‘No excuses. Facts. I want names.’

Revendin trembled and caught his breath, as he balanced the chance of redemption by sharing the blame, against the possibility that he was damning them all.

‘We had a small army, urithan, reavers… there are a few though who’s names I know,’ he licked his lips nervously and continued, ‘Lutzgaroth… Veszal… Solutar… Voiderino… Rorn… and Anethra.’

Ithilsyn stood up and walked calmly towards the table, inspecting the map, her gaze upon the Great Gates between Nagarythe and Ellyrion.

‘How great was the enemy force?’

‘They were double our size. They had many mages. Archers of course, swordsmen… and Chracians,' he snarled, his hate flaring up as he recalled the jaws of their leonine companions. ‘That archmage from Narthain was there.’

Ithilsyn inhaled slowly, then turned, lifting the Lord off his feet with fell sorcery, ‘and you let him escape?!’ she replied, her voice thick with fury.

Revendin cried out in terror, as she threw him out of the tent, his armoured form sliding roughly across the ground. He moaned to himself as he started to push himself up, Druchii and the Tribes all witnessing his ejection. Before he could rise, he felt a draich to the side of his throat, and was pulled roughly up by his hair.

‘You know the price of failure.’ Ithilsyn uttered quietly.

Revendin had time to take one last look at the warriors gathered, before the blade swung down and cut his head cleanly from his shoulders. It rolled across the ground, coming to a stop before Veszal’s feet.

The seeress regarded the champions mentioned, her form serene and terrible. For a moment they wondered the extent of her fury. It seemed that she had made her point.

‘You must do better,’ she stated, knowing that their hatred would be fuelled now to greater levels. ‘I expect a fighting force worthy of marching under our banner. You are a disgrace.’

She turned on her heel, stepping over the headless corpse bleeding out into the dusty yard, and returning to the Command Tent. There would be no victory feast today.





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Post#4 » Wed Oct 17, 2018 1:33 pm

For Everqueen! For Eternal Host!

This was fun :)

Shieldbearer of Eternal Host
Protector of Hoeth

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Post#5 » Sun Oct 28, 2018 9:37 pm

28. October 2018, Thunder Mountain: The die is cast when I stop rolling it!
by Balver of the Greenskinz

20 seconds. Only 20 more seconds and we could have saved our Keep Lord, but he fell before we arrived. The Order started an attack on Thunder Mountain while we fought at another front, too late did the message arrive. 20 seconds... We fell into their backs, they may have succeeded, but we didn't gave them time to celebrate their victory. The battle was short and bloody, soon the dead bodies of the Order lied between our keep guards.
But what now? Our keep was plundered, the gates destroyed and most of the guards dead. We can't hold Thunder Mountain like this, it's over, the die is cast. Unless... None of us wanted to give up, too big was the anger about what the Order did. We started to ambush and plunder their supply transports, they should not gain foothold here. We managed to get a bunch of resources, not enough to repair the keep, but enough to build a ram. Against all sanity we started an attack on the enemy keep, knowing we had only this one chance. The fight was hard, with almost no supplies we fought against a well fed enemy, but we knew we must weaken the Order's position in this area. I don't know how we did it, maybe Gork and Mork pulled on the same string today, but we managed to take the keep and fortify our position in Thunder Mountain. We cast the die again, this time it rolled in our favor.
Quilog: Squig Herder | Balver: Shaman | Moragor: Chosen | Drachdon: Marauder | Duzgat: Choppa | Aggerond: Magus | Rodira: Sorceress | Gozug: Black Orc | Lodariel: Disciple of Khain | Whikna: Zealot | Sorelia: Blackguard | Lindriel: Bitch Elf

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Post#6 » Wed Nov 21, 2018 10:11 pm

The Shadowlands then Saphery
Kar Khadath Regiment, Da Bloody Mugz, and Tribes of Norsca vs. The Eternal Host
Tuesday 20th November, 2018

The Iron Pact Alliance met once again to do epic battle against our sworn enemies, The Eternal Host. 6-v-6 combat then developed into 2-v-2 and later into individual dueling challenges. The High Elves won the day, although the forces of Destruction managed to win one round this time. Another terrific event, and thanks as ever to those who made it to participate in the combat. Sa'an'ishar!


Our orders were to drive them back, to clear the way to that hated pinnacle of Saphery; The Tower of Hoeth. Taking with us a small detachment of Druchii, and a handful of our allied forces, we marched to the Unicorn Gate striding the mountains between Nagarythe and Ellyrion.

Our small force included sorceresses of the Khadath Coven to cast fell magic to twist the very air about our foes, a Black Orc to throw at them as a meat shield and inflict terror among their ranks. And any other poor sod who’s watch coincided with this little adventure. Eager for a distraction of the apparent ennui of feasting and debauchery, we were graced by the most illustrious presence of the warlord of the Tribes of Norsca who rode with us, one of his witches in tow, fawning after him.

As we approached the gates, we found them, still milling about since last our forces clashed. They waited on a low rise overlooking the Urithan road, watching the pass quietly, their armour gleaming in the gloom of the sundered kingdom. Our weak cousins seemed to know that we were coming. No doubt that it was word from their accursed Shadow Warriors that had given the game away. Or perhaps it was their meddling mages?

They looked ridiculous. I am certain one of them wore an entire swan on his head. We laughed at them, and then with curses of their demise and praise to Khaine upon our lips, we charged.

With a guttural roar, the Greenskin brute bowled into them, knocking them over like skittles, as the Khorne champion swung his axe like a scythe cutting through wheat. The Khainite zealots among us chanted as they whirled their blades around them in a bloody frenzy. There is nothing quite like the thrill of battle; there is something about being so close to death that you can taste it, that makes you feel more alive than you could ever imagine.

It should have been easy. It was not.

Our first charge failed. The mages of our enemy were able to recover from their wounds and pick up their injured faster than we could cut them down. They retaliated by targeting our spellcasters and the Chaos witch with axe and sword and claw, until only the Khornite stood before them, his red armour slick with blood for his god.

With fury a second charge was ordered; we would die out here in glory for Khaine or die with disgrace at the Garrison. Driven by hate, or fear… maybe both… we rushed in again. This time it was we who pushed them back. We pushed them until by some dark miracle we found ourselves on the plains of Saphery, where at last we slaughtered our rivals. Bolstered by our victory, spirits high, we continued to drive them back, forcing them towards a small tower near a moon shaped pool straddled by three bridges.

The thalken by now had increased their numbers, rallying champions to their aid. High on our victory, we mocked them, waving severed heads on our spears to show them what fates awaited them and displaying our blades crimson with the vital fluids of their slain. We sensed their surprise, and we would like to think, desperation, as the great Tower of Hoeth could be seen rising up in the distance and disappearing into the clouds. How could it be possible that their failure to hold the line had resulted in our advancement, that we now fouled Saphery with our presence?

That was soon rectified.

How naïve we had been to assume that we could continue without being thwarted by their mages. We were in the very land that spawned such arrogant cripples. The magic that flowed through this place empowered and emboldened them. And they meant to show us that we would go no further. Swordmasters stood with their spellcasters, Chracian bodyguards, and Nagarythi traitors, all found their courage and attacked. The battle continued for a long duration, greater than any of us would have liked. Yet it was clear that it was not one that we could have won.

As their Commander stepped forward, it was they who then mocked us. The fury among our ranks was a force of its own, giving us renewed strength, and we made one last charge.

Many died that day. We pleased Khaine with elven blood, much of it our own. We were ordered to retreat.

I had planned to head north, to jump aboard a dragon ship where I might assume a new persona, to start again, maybe make some gold. The life of a corsair is good you know. I found such a ship after a while. And the [email protected] handed me in. How was I to know they served the Sorceress?

Take my advice, friend. If you fail, best fail on the end of an enemy’s sword. It’s a much cleaner death than what they have in store for me tomorrow. They say a man can live for two weeks without his skin. I pray to whatever god will hear me that it’s quicker than that.

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Post#7 » Fri Jan 18, 2019 10:53 pm

That's so cool

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