Warhammer Gold,Buy Warhammer Gold,War Gold For Sale,Power Levleing,Accounts and Items On Sale. • Warhammer Gold,Buy Warhammer Gold



 

The Fall of Eyrad Adrel

December 6, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum, Warhammer Quest • 0 Comments

The slender spires of Eyrad Adrel rose from the mountains, a delicate tracery of gold rising above dark clouds. Regiment upon regiment of Dark Elf warriors stretched across the valley, the light of their campfires providing a constant sullen glow against the night sky.

After the assault on the siege battery, the Shining Guard Had pushed west through Drakewane Vale, pausing only long enough to liberate the shrine of the Conqueror. Though their march was hampered by constant shade attacks, the High Elves had made good time, reaching the fords just past nightfall. The army spent the dark hours in sleeplessness, gazing toward the distant glow on the horizon.

The first scouts began returning just before dawn. Kneeling before the wounded Prince Endhil, their reports were all the same. The full strength of Malekith’s army stood arrayed on the valley before them. Eyrad Adrel itself was now in the hands of Beastmaster Rakarth, and Malekith’s Black Ark was moving into position along the coast. The Shining Guard was now outnumbered ten to one. In addition, there were signs of a major ritual working underway. One wrong decision would cost them the battle, and the war.

Smiling faintly, Endhil turned to his fellow commanders. The arrogant and self assured Dragon Prince had been tempered by the massacre at Drakeswane Vale, the smug assumption of victory being replaced with grim determination. He had aged in defense of Ulthuan, as had they all.

“It seems our cousins are spoiling for a fight. Shall we give it to them?”

“After Drakeswane Vale you would make light of our situation?” Oroduin looked at the Dragon Prince in disbelief. “Our position is the weakest I have yet seen. They outnumber us ten to one, Endhil. All the might of Naggarond stands between us and Eyrad Adrel.”

“Do not think I have forgotten our situation, Oroduin. None know it better than I. But we will fight tomorrow, regardless. And we will win our way to the spires of Eyrad Adrel.” Endhil’s eyes glinted strangely in the torchlight.

“What is our approach then, my lord?” Elralion asked.

“We will split our forces, following the river under cover of darkness. Crossing here and here,” Endhil marked two places where the river neared the fortress before swinging out again. “we will only have to win through a portion of the Dark Elf troops. If all goes well, Malekith’s army will be cut in half.”

“And if things do not go well?” Oroduin fastened his gaze upon the Dragon Prince.

“Rakarth will prevail, Malekith will gain his foothold upon Ulthuan… and we will all die.”


 

 

Buying Time

December 6, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum, Warhammer Quest • 0 Comments

Reaper bolts slammed into the rocky embankment, spraying debris into the air. From behind the jagged outcropping, Prince Endhil surveyed the carnage with disbelieving eyes. Of the first regiment sent into Caledor, none had survived. Bodies sprawled across the road were still in a rough parady of battle formation, even as foul creatures feasted upon the carrion.

The Dark Elf siege battery covered the road, Reaper Bolt Throwers and crossbows preventing the Dragon Prince’s forces from maneuvering around to attack their enemy on their flanks.

“Prince Endhil, what are your orders?” Unable to look away from the deadly misfortune his arrogant confidence had ordained, Endhil remained silent for a few moments too long. “Commander?”

“We will encircle the kin-traitors, leaving enough of a force here that they remain focused upon the bait.”

“Yes my lord.” Elralion considered the face of his friend with great care. Though also the scion of a noble house, he had always followed Endhil’s lead in battle. The Prince was touched by Asuryan, a survivor of countless battles that had claimed all too many lives. The face Elralion had come to know so well was now devoid of expression, as if a marble statue now sat beside him, crouched behind the scant protection of a single boulder.

“Calasil and Morvridror will have command of the northern and southern wedges. They are to attack upon my signal.” Endhil’s fist clenched as a sluggishly moving figure was set upon by a flock of harpies. Within moments only a wet ruin remained.

“And what of you, my lord?”

“Have you not guessed, Elralion? I am to be the bait.” Prince Endhil smiled then, a brief barring of teeth that chilled Elralion to the bone as the Dragon Prince’s plan became clear. Endhil was a Dragon Prince, an irresistible target for the Dark Elf forces. His presence would keep the Dark Elves concentrated upon his location while the rest of the Shining Guard forces moved into position behind them.

Staying low to the ground Elralion moved away to begin relaying Endhil’s orders, but the warrior could not shake the premonition that the stones of Caledor would be wet with noble blood before dawn.


 

 

Eataine Mustering

December 6, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum, Warhammer Quest, Warhammer Armies • 0 Comments

A group of High Elves stood before a large wall of rock. Embedded with the stone was a vein of silvery metal that sparkled in the morning sun.

“Ithilmar”, said the tall Dragon Prince named Arithan Stormbreaker. He spoke the word reverently, almost in a whisper. The word was heavy with meaning. It was not just ithilmar that lay buried in the rock - it was renewed hope.

The war had not gone well for the High Elves. The forces of the enemy had proven nearly unstoppable, marching through the Blighted Isle and Chrace, into the Shadowlands and through the gates to the Inner Kingdoms. The greenskins had joined in the attack, crafting war barges from the trees in Avelorn and using them to ferry their foul hordes across the Inner Sea.

Now the great demand for new weapons and armor was taxing the resources of the High Elves’ smiths. New stocks of ithilmar would mean new equipment for the warriors of the Shining Guard.

“We must secure this place.” said the Dragon Prince to his lieutenants. There were eight of them in all, scouting the area on horseback for signs of the advancing enemy.

Lyrana Starwing cleared her throat. “Not that I mean to question your judgement, Prince Stormbreaker, but we are under orders to defend Minaith’s Memory. Do we have the warriors to spare for both tasks?”

The prince turned nad met the Dragon Mage’s gaze. “I am aware of our duty here, Lyrana. The vault is important, but we can ill afford to ignore this vein of ithilmar. It is greatly needed by the smiths. Besides, the Dark Elves have not found it yet. If we work quickly enough, we can-”

With a hiss and a thud, a black crossbow bolt raced through the air and struck the Dragon Prince in the chest.

“They are here!” cried the Dragon mage, wheeling her horse about to face the enemy. IN the rocks above, several Shades were taking aim. The High Elves raced for cover as a volley of crossbow bolts shattered the loose stone round them.

“Go! Get out of here! We must establish an outpost and return in greater strength. I will yield neither the ithilmar nor the vault without a fight!”

The High Elves spurred their horse and sped away. Dragon Prince Stormbreaker swore an oath under his breath to return and claim this place for his people. First, however, there was a warcamp to build and warriors to recruit.

 

www.gprunescape.com

 


 

 
December 5, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum, Warhammer Quest, Warhammer Apothecary • 0 Comments

Hithandror Oakbrow gazed out across the broken landscape with disgusted sorrow. The signs of slaughter filled the shallow bowl of the valley, and it was with some small measure of satisfaction that the commander noted the amount of blackened and twisted bodies piled around the motionless figure at the center.

Marching west across Dragonwake, the Shining Guard had come upon a large detachment of Dark Elves and their allies attempting to break a Dragon to their will. Though the High Elves had arrived in time to route the enemy forces, the damage had already been done. Finding the situation rapidly spiraling out of their control, the Dark Elf forces destroyed the beast. One of Caledor’s most ancient creatures would never rise again.

“Hithandror, we cannot discount the presence of ithilmar armament among the enemy. Vaul’s Anvil may be in danger, just as we were warned.” The young Smith-Priest spoke quietly, unable to turn his eyes from the ruined creature in the battlefield beyond.

“Discount? No, but we must think deeply on this situation, Thaleos.” Hthandror reprimanded gently. “The kin-traitors never make a move without putting other hidden plans into play. It would be unwise to leap for the proffered target and ignore the dagger pointed at our backs.”

“Our enemies wish us to despair, to ask of what use our ancient forges will serve if there be no new dragon riders to outfit.” A new voice chimed in. “The will of the High Elves is adamant, and the strength of many nations have journeyed here to fight alongside the Shining Guard. If Vaul’s Anvil has fallen we will wrest it from the grasp of our dark kin. Then shall the Dragonhorn sound through Caledor once more, calling the Dragons from their slumber!” The eager words were spoken with the assured arrogance of a Prince of Caledor.

“And what if we fight through to your beloved Caledor and find our cousins have slain the last of the Dragons, Endhil? What then?”

The young Prince considered the question but for a moment before replying. “I do not believe our greedy kin will have been granted the time needed to discover all of the secret places within Caledor. Should such an unlikely event come to pass, I shall beg the commander to allow my brothers to outfit themselves as they see fit from whatever armor remains in the secret places, and we shall set our horses toward the coast.”

Though not completely unsurprised by the response, Hithandror was caught off guard by the cold, calculating tone. “To ride against Malekith?”

“To storm the gates of the Fist of Malekith and drive our lances into the heart of the Witch King!” Prince Endhil raised his lance into the air, illiciting answering cries from the gathered warriors.

“Death to the Witch King!”

 


 

 
December 5, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum, Warhammer Quest, Warhammer Apothecary • 0 Comments

Read More »


 

 

Digging into the Past

November 25, 2008 Category: Uncategorized • 0 Comments

With a great heave, Larus lifted his massive sword into the air and then brought it crashing down onto the skull of a Wight. The creature’s head was sundered into bone fragments by the power of the blow, and the victorious Chosen raised his weapon in the air, roaring in triumph.

The Wights would return soon, as they had done many times, and the crazed Dwarfs of the Grimbeard clan might launch another reckless assault at any time. Larus didn’t know where they had come from, but they’d clearly been in the Chaos Wastes for some time, for they had long since gone mad. They attacked any creature that came within sight, and they fought with ferocious strength and tenacity.

Larus scanned the icy wastes that stretched in all directions. All was quiet for now. It was time to return to the work at hand.

Larus had been selected to lead an expedition into the Chaos Wastes. A Chosen warrior of the Raven God, he was more than suited to the task. He was clad from head to toe in enchanted armor and brandished a sword nearly the size of a man.

Under Larus’ command, twenty hand-picked warriors and a cadre of Sorcerers ventured north to the Deathchill Glacier, the site of an ancient battle in the first war between Chaos and the Elves. The Elves, unable to kill the leader of the Daemon army, had chosen to sacrifice themselves, summoning a great mountain of ice that had imprisoned the combatants on both sides. It was the Daemon that Tchar’zanek wanted, and his warriors had dug tunnels deep into the glacier to find it.

www.gprunescape.com

www.runescape365.com

The Daemon was called Souleater, and through the whisperings of the Raven God, Tchar’zanek had learned that this ancient fiend possessed arcane secrets thought to be lost to the world. Among these was the incantation needed to complete the grand spell that Tchar’zanek had crafted. The spell was the crux of his plan, the true reason for his attack upon the Empire. It only remained to liberate the Daemon from its icy prison, and then bind it to Tchar’zanek’s will.

Soon, the entire world would be made the Raven God’s domain, and those who served him would be rewarded with power and might beyond imagination.


 

 

The Sigil of Malice

November 25, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER • 0 Comments

From high atop the wall of his fortress, Naar’kohros the Merciless, Champion of Khorne, watched as his Marauders clashed with the warriors of the Raven Host. The servants of the Changer of Ways had come here to claim his prize, but they would find only bloodshed, pain, and death.

Naar’kohros clutched at the brass medallion that hung from his neck, feeling its power surge through him. Such strength! He must use it!

The Champion leapt down from the high stone wall and charged into the fray alongside a regiment of Bloodletters. Naar’kohros wielded his axe like a butcher, decapitating and maiming all in his path with savage, unrelenting fury. The invading Marauders retreated from the blood-soaked Champion’s killing path, making way for the disc-riding Magi of the Raven Host. In a flash, Naar’kohros was engulfed in magical blue fire. The Sigil’s power pulsed through him, rendering the arcane flames of the Magi useless.

A horn sounded, and the black-armored warriors of the Raven Host turned and fled. Naar’kohros tore the head from the nearest enemy corpse and held it aloft.

“Blood for the Blood God!” shouted the Champion to his warriors.

“Skulls for the Skull Throne!” they answered.

***

Hours later, the survivors of the failed attack gathered at their camp. Their leader, Albodi the Scarred, stood before them sword in hand.

“Lord Tchar’zanek does not tolerate failure, and neither do I,” said the tall, stern Northman. “Vigrund, your warriors failed to hold the flank. Step forward.”

Vigrund had scarcely come within reach of Albodi’s weapon when the Chosen thrust his blade through the warrior’s chest. Vigrund fell to his knees, gurgling as blood poured from his mouth. He toppled to the ground and lay motionless.

As Albodi pried his sword from Vigrund’s chest, he met the eyes of each warrior before him. “We will attack again, and again, until the Sigil of Malice is ours! Go now, and prepare for battle! Fail me again, and your fate will be his!”


 

 

The Prisoner

November 25, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum • 0 Comments

In her years as a Sorceress, Brynja had seen many strange and fearsome creatures with powers both vast and deadly. All paled beside the two beings she now beheld.

The first was a Daemon of Khorne, bound in a circle of magic that she and the other Sorcerers at the Raven Host camp in High Pass had devised. The second was a tall man in a hooded robe known only as “The Whispering Voice,” He was Tchar’zanek’s chief interrogator, said to speak with the voice of the Great Manipulator himself. The Whispering Voice stood motionless at the edge of the magic circle that bound the Daemon to this place, saying not a word. Night and day, the Daemon howled and screamed in anguish, clearly desperate to be free.

Urun, leader of the Raven Host warriors who guarded the camp, drew near to Brynja and spoke.

“The minions of the Blood God grow bolder with each day. That damnable beacon on the mountain is calling them to this place.”

“The Blood God guards his treasure jealously,” she answered. “He knows why we have come here, and he knows that we have captured one of his Daemons for questioning. He fears that we will learn where the Sigil of Malice can be found, and he fears what will happen when we acquire it. That is why he sends his legions against us.”

Urun grumbled to himself. He did not share the Sorceresses’ confidence. “Time is short, Brynja. We cannot wait here forever, and the warriors of the Blood God are not our only concern. The Ogres, Giants, and Trolls watch us every day for any sign of weakness. Our supplies are running short, and the season of storms is nearly upon us.”

Brynja answered matter-of-factly. “The Voice will break this Daemon soon, and once we learn the Sigil’s resting place no army can keep us from it. The Sigil of Malice is the last of the four relics of power Tchar’zanek requires for his great spell. Soon, the Empire will learn the true nature of our attack, and that truth will freeze the very marrow in their bones.”


 

 

Standoff

November 25, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER, WARHAMMER forum • 0 Comments

“For the Raven god!” cried Ulvarin as he charged at Lady Kreuger, his huge, serrated sword pointed at her heart. Before he could reach her, three lithe and nimble maidens leapt out from the fray, interposing themselves between the hulking Chaos warrior and his target.

Ulvarin knew these maidens well. They were the daughters of Lady Kreuger, and like their mother, were willing servants of Slaanesh, the Dark Prince. Their slender, beautiful bodies hid an unnatural strength, and they quickly drove Ulvarin back.

Every attempt by his men to claim the Corruptor’s Crown had met with the same result. None could get near Lady Kreuger, and now, once again, her minions were staving off an attack from Ulvarin’s band.

The stiff opposition was unexpected. The Warhost’s spies in the Empire assured Lord Tchar’zanek that the Corruptor’s Crown was buried in some deep cave in Talabecland, all but forgotten by the people of the Empire. The Champion, wishing to keep secret the true nature of his attack upon the Empire, had dispatched only a small band of Raven Host warriors to retrieve the crown,

In fact, the Corruptor’s Crown had come into the possession of Lady Kreuger, who had hired a local gang of bandits to retrieve it for her. The artifact had given Lady great power. When she learned of the Raven Host’s plan to take the crown, she had summoned a small army of Daemonettes, Fiends and Chaos Spawn to protect it.

The warriors from the north were hopelessly outnumbered. Worse, the Empire had now discovered their infiltration. Soldiers from the elite Order of the Griffon, had made it their personal mission to expel the Raven Host from Talabecland, and launched daily attacks upon the Raven Host’s warcamp.

Reluctantly, Ulvarin sounded the retreat. Tonight, he would send a rider to the main warhost. The time for subtlety and stealth was over. It was time to show Lady Kreuger and her misguided followers the price they would pay for defying the will of the Raven God.

 


 

 

An Old Plot Ends, a New One Begins

November 25, 2008 Category: WARHAMMER • 0 Comments

Wretched and misguided Zealot! By command of Lord Xyshrenth, I carry out your punishment!

Barmik Olafsson raised his warhammer, and swung it down sharply upon the Zealot’s arms as his fellows held him down.

Thorbeck roared himself hoarse as he contended with the pain.

“Let that be a lesson well-learned. Any more tries at harming Lord Xyshrenth, by word, deed, or thought, and I will end you. From this day forth, you will be known as Thorbeck the Deceiver.” Barmik shook his head at the Zealot, spat on the ground, and walked away as Dagrun Skydread was finally allowed to come to her consort’s side.

“How bad is it?” she hissed, her eyes taking on a dark aspect.

“Bad enough,” Thorbeck gulped.

“You should never have made your move without using trusted men!” she snarled, touching his broken arms. His roar of agony stopped her at once.

“No choice,” Thorbeck replied, though his teeth ground together painfully from the pain. “It was ordained by the Changer.”

“If the time to strike was so ordained, then so was this outcome! What use are you now, with arms crushed?”

“This was your idea to begin with! I was content to cope with my visions of Verentane Keep, and of its glorious capture.”

“Fool!” Dagrun snapped. What now? She considered her options anew. Thorbeck, now useless, would soon enough find himself on a funeral pyre, and she would see that happen. The possibility that something profoundly useful might be found at Verentane Keep, however, caused her to stay her hand, for now.