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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
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Studio ModelersJames A. Thomas
Miniature Painters
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Studio AdministrationAssistantCharles Foster III
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Chief Creative OfcerMatthew D. Wilson
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Production
Oren AshkenaziNelson BaltzoFelisha BolzenthalTom Cawby
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InfernalsPeter GaublommeTravis Marg
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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.
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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
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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.
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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.
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THE KEY TURNS
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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
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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.
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THE KEY TURNS
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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
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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.
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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