Turn 6

The mortal blow is struck at the cost of self,
when shields are cast aside and swords taken up in their stead...

After weeks of positioning and probing each other's defenses, the three factions vying for the Dragonback Mountains finally struck at each other. No quarter was given, and none was asked, as man, dwarf and orc invaded each other's territory, claiming territory for themselves after bathing it in both their own blood and their enemies'. Victory and defeat went hand in hand, for all gained, and all lost.

Perhaps the most grievous blow was struck to the Expansion Effort. As their men busied themselves at the gates of Ekrund, the orc warboss known as Kaptain Blacksquig continued his daring assault on Monte Castello. Not content with merely claiming the city's riches, the pirate orc now claimed the city itself, forcing its citizens into hiding. It remains to be seen whether he captured the Tilean stronghold for Waaagh! Dularg or for himself, but either way, the Jolly Roger now flies from the city's parapets. The pirate orc's control over the city hangs by a thread, however, as its citizens have formed pockets of resistance. These brave men's successes were greatly bolstered by the timely arrival of a mighty kraken, emerging from the waters to smash apart several ships anhcored at Monte Castello's docks. Had the beast not done so, the pirates would've no doubt commandeered the ships and used them to bombard the city- instead, Blacksquig lost a substantial number of boys to the beast's attack. The kraken has since retreated below the waves again, but the greenskins whisper that their kaptain is now cursed, and that the beast will follow him wherever he goes...

Despite the loss of their stronghold, the Effort nonetheless earned their glory at Barak Urbar. Here, the Marienburgers attacked the gate held by the greenskins of Waaagh! Dularg, forcing the greenskins entrenched there deeper into the mountain. In this they were aided by Arabyan corsairs, whoms services were paid for by the generals Atlas and Anya. The slavers captured a good number of strong orcs and less useful goblins, each of which would fetch them a pretty price at the slave markets of Lashiek.

At Thragazi Zagazal, the Effort showed its more humane side. To atone for the coldblooded murder on the slayer Durgal Silverhand, feldoberst von Heidenmund established the Silverhand tower at the place of pilgrimage. The Silverhand tower serves as a fortified inn, replacing the ragtag slayer camp, and boasts a shrine to Grimnir. Located on top of a cave system, the tower offers respite for both dwarf and human travellers. It is garrisoned by the Silverhand militia, which provides both succour and protection for the weary.

The dwarves, meanwhile, took perhaps the most important step in reclaiming their ancient hold- mount Bloodhorn, ancient seat of Ekrund's power, was cleared of greenskins and reclaimed by the Dalazidrungak Drekaz. The dwarves fought with an overwhelming determination here, despite their bitter losses, for they knew that without mount Bloodhorn, Ekrund would never be restored. That dream took a great step towards reality today, and while the dwarves' hold on the city may be tenuous at best, they have won a great victory here today. Their glory was increased further by the fact that boss Borag of the Waaagh! had attempted to defend the city, only to be provoked into chasing Brask Alpsbane all the way to Ankor Drakk. Realizing his error too late, the goblin hurried back to mount Bloodhorn, only to find out they were too late- the banners of the Dalazidrungak Drekaz hung from the walls, indicating the dwarves ruled here.

With Ankor Drakk now safe behind the frontline, thane Fairhair ordered a party of dwarves to clear the stronghold's halls in order to make room for dwarven settlers. The Garudak lord's city is yet but a shadow of its former glory, but the sounds of dwarven craftsmen plying their trade in the dark halls indicates that life has returned to Ankor Drakk; a promise of things to come.

Yet in the east, the dwarves suffered defeat. The Bitterstone mines, only recently claimed by the Drekaz, changed hands again as the goblin boss Skirgit Crowbait invaded the mines, claiming it for the Waaagh!. While the dwarves had been prepared to lose the mines if it meant slowing the greenskins, the reality of losing them- and the lives of a handful of those who volunteered to remain in defense of the mines- diminished the glory of mount Bloodhorn's capture somewhat.

South of the Bitterstone Mines, reinforcements for Skirgit approached- warlord Dularg Spinesnappa Ironnose, having claimed leadership over the Waaagh! only recently, visited Mingol Grom to remind the greenskins there that there was a new boss in town, and they'd better respect him. Weeks ago, the young orc came here without a tribe to call his own- all the more impressive it was then, that he had been able to claim a tribe first, and then the entire Waaagh!, by merit of his choppa. Despite the losses suffered at Barak Urbar and Mount Bloodhorn, perhaps this orc could turn this Waaagh!'s fortunes around again...

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From the deeps
Written by Spiney Norman

Kaspar van Gelding stood on a high cliff to the north of Gronti Mingol, the wizard was uncomfortable being out in the elements, preferring the calm, ordered environs of his study and laboratory. But some things were too important to be left to mere underlings, this he had to oversee himself. The weather was calm, the waves lapping lazily at the sand far below at the foot of the cliff. A pity to disturb it, thought Van Gelding, but alas, such conditions were not suitable for the ritual that had to be performed this night.

The impassive gilded mask nodded to his acolytes, Bartholomew van Urst of the celestial college raised his staff toward the horizon and began his incantations, drawing the dark clouds together across the horizon. Minutes stretched into hours as the storm slowly built, the wind howled around Van Gelding, causing his robes to billow around him like sails. As the celestial wizard's spell reached its peak, thunder rolled over-head and lightning struck the water a short distance from the shore. Buffeted but the wind, the sea itself was ripped open at the place where the bolt had struck to form an immense, whirling maelstrom revealing a chasm in the water down to the very ocean floor, bound by a roiling wall of water

Next it was the Amber college's turn, Gilbeert Wilding leapt from the cliff top astride his mighty Griffon, circling the rotating column of wind on powerful wings. Van Gelding could just make out the Beast master take a scroll from his robes and begin to read the words of power written upon it. Gilbeert's incantation was drowned out by the roaring of the wind but as he pronounced the final syllable, the scroll crumbling to dust, Van Gelding and every other wizard on the cliff top felt the ripple of a magical shockwave as the spell of binding took effect. The summoning was complete and a colossal, bubbling roar blasted from the centre of the maelstrom, audible even over the sound of the mighty wind.

Only Van Gelding's part remained, taking a small vial of black liquid he poured it on to his open palm, reciting words of power he reached for a glowing red runic talisman, taken during the raid on Mt Bloodhorn and pressed it hard the black liquid staining his hand. Concentrating hard to correctly pronounce the Khazalid words, Van Gelding struggled to ignore the pain as steam hissed angrily from his blackened palm. To complete the spell he held aloft a small, green-coloured doll made of clay, which appeared to be wearing a crude pirate's hat and as lightning forked down into the centre of the maelstrom once again, he reached up with his blackened hand and crushed its head.

The ritual was complete, the wind dissipate as quickly as it had arisen, within moments the sea was almost calm revealing an immense dark shape heading away to the horizon, out of sight.

Many leagues away, on the deck of the Tilean Galleon formerly known as the Mona Lisa, Kaptain Blacksquig felt a wretched itch at his right palm, the discomfort increased until it felt like a dagger had been run through his hand and as he inspected his smarting palm a large spot blossomed between his green fingers, blacker than midnight.