2.1 Tales of Mournghuls
Tales of the The Mournking and his Mournguls
- A Spreading Darkness- Obrekevpuul- Lake of Shadows
- The Mournguls attack Skullport
- The Mournguls attack Shavespike
- The King's Coronation
- Long Live the King
- Howling on the Wind
A Spreading Darkness
It starts subtly at first, invisible to all but those gifted with mage sight, a corruption of the soul. Paranoia, jealousy, rage, or disdain - once friends grow distant, items are stolen, commands are ignored, and people left to suffer. Plants and animals also change, becoming more aggressive or perhaps offering less nutrition. The reign of Crackedmorrow the Shifting Shade was beginning and with it chaos would be supreme.
Emanating from the The Citadel of Nightmares, waves of dark magic fill the air, infect the seas, and despoil the ground. The creatures of the deep around the Isle of Shadow and Death are the first to succumb to the corrupting energies. As they travel this Lost Archipelago, the chaos spreads, those who use these beasts for nourishment become infected themselves and so continues the cycle.
With the coming of the Mournguls Crackedmorrow has a new game, for those malignants captured by the Shifting Shade are slowly corrupted and released back into the world. Where they die.
Obrekevpuul- Lake of Shadows
While the Mournghouls ravaged the eastern coast of Obrekevpuul the Lake of Shadows
, Akelian King-Perivudaan Henerannas'' sister had been swimming the skies and through the mysterious shifting waters of the lake. The local fishing villages call this the lake of shadows not for the shifting darkness- but for the long aberrant shadows cast from who knows what deep under the lake. There are alien sources of light that backlight the lake contents from the bottom up. These lights shift and move, shifting location, hue, and intensity- casting long shadows of shipwrecks and serpents and monsters and fish. All manner of things.
Perivudaan found the lights deep under the lake to be a mystery, no matter how far, fast, or deep she chased them. When brining in tidecasters and priests they found the waters to be saturated with the heavenly powers of the realm of azyr. This was a great boon to the sea monsters of the enclave, as their skins and shells drank in a bit of this power, charging them with the lighting of heavens. The Morrsarr eels experienced something much different, however. Some of these creatures grew in size and ferocity, casting much stronger bolts of biovoltaic lightning than before- leaving friend and foe dazzled if caught in its arcs.
The deepking swam long and deep in the lake before bringing their forces to bear against the undead, soaking as much of the mysterious light as possible before unleashing its radiance upon the undead- who were even worse damaged by the attacks due to their heavenly power.
With the Mournghouls rampaging up the river toward Cloudchasm, Herennaras mobilized the army to intercept them along the Lake, setting up an encampment to enrich our holdings and provide a mainstay for the camp. The jadefin warbands were sent forth to scout and ambush the mournghouls and intercepted the heralds of the mournghoul king! They had enlisted the aid of a wight king to lead their ravening hordes ahead of the monstrocities. While the narmarti died one and all, the Akelians were able to hunt down and destroy the wight king and a crypt horror who each bore relics with empty sockets- one for a pearl and one for a gem of some kind. The Akelians are bringing them back to Cloudchasm while the army seeks to engage the Mournghouls in earnest.
The Mournguls attack Skullport
In 2 AOB, an occurrence at the Isle of Shadow and Death caused a number of ravenous Mournguls to escape from there, and rampage across all corners of the land. Following each was a growing retinue of scavengers and cursed spirits of those they killed. When one such beast landed at Skullport, Captain Akelios was prepared to hunt the beast down for the Betrayal of Lethis fleet, and earn Capt. Aldernon Numan favour.
Akelios licked his fangs with excitement, as their soulstorm cannonades tore holes of fiery witchflame into the Mourngul's shadowed form. "What a fine beast we'll grab ourselves today, huh boys? Steady your guns and jump out on my signal."
As the ship veered and the signal was made, a band of damned cutthroats, a veritable assortment of the revenant dead it was, jumped off the ship to face the shadowy monstrosity that was the Mourngul. The ragtag band included even two Ogor-size creatures, although where in the realms they might have come from would truly be a wild guess.
The Mourngul tore through the deathless pirates, this distraction maneuver gave Akelios time to circle the beast and continue the bombardment, while thinning down the retinue of scavengers that followed the creature.
Alas, as the Mourngul inhaled deep from the magicks of the land of Death, each fresh animus plucked from the Fleets' revenants, as well as the sacrifice of its own retinue of scavengers, empower the beast once again, rendering it whole once more… Akelios became concerned, as he was not expecting the beast to tap into the winds of Shyish so easily….
Summoning more reinforcements from the port, Akelios invoked his crew's soul anchor to bring them back aboard like a sea mist, and soared to the other side of the docks. They would pick the Mourngul apart with canonfire, and when it came close, Akelios would finally be able to land a blow on the beast… Akelios had brought the fleet’s Anchor of the Deep, a dread relic that once attached to an enemy, will inevitably draw it to the depths of the Maelstrom sooner or later.
So it was, and the Mourngul thrashed and rejuvenated twice more by devouring his retinue of souls, reducing the Fleets' defense force to shreds… yet the anchor was not yet able to pull it under.
Once the Deep Guard finally made it to the scene, the Anchor performed its duty. But the relic was not fast enough to prevent the loss of Akelios to the ravenous maw of the Mourngul…Nonetheless... the fleet now has a new, ravenous asset to use in battle.
The Mournghuls attack Shavespike
The mood in the war room was somber, Soulscryer Brinewalker had just been demoted and was being lambasted by Morrentis Ravenborn. Knight Azyros Yhuneska and Knight Vexillor Kret did their best to appear invisible while the Runesmitters Steelbeard and Stouthelm looked on with amusement. “Explain to me again why you attacked these crusaders without our support Soulscryer?” Morrentis questioned. “I, I had hoped to win over the Sylvaneth by striking a bold victory against their enemies” Brinewalker responded. “I already have one foolish and headstrong commander” Morrentis said looking over at Yhuneska, “Another and we’ll be out of troops within the year.” Brinewalker made to reply but a commotion outside interrupted him. A flaming carriage revealed a horrid sight, three Mournguls creeping through the town square, savaging all who got in their way. “Commanders! To arms! Defend the civilians and put down these monsters!” Morrentis ordered.
The Mournguls paused in their devouring of a horse and turned to meet the new threat. Morrentis barked orders to her commanders, the Runesmitters prayed to Grimnir and Morrida for aid, Knight Vexillor Kret and Soulscryer Brinewalker shuttled terrified townsfolk to safety, while Knight Azyros Yhuneska took to the air. Crashing down like a comet, Knight Yhuneska was the first to reach the Mournguls, the pure light of his lantern keeping the deadly creatures at bay. Steelbeard, Stouthelm, and Morrentis were the next to join the battle, each slicing into the creatures with their god-blessed blades. A burning canopy collapsed in front of Knight Kret and Soulscryer Brinewalker, blocking their path.
The Battle raged on, Stouthelm was sent crashing through the second-story window of a family home. Outraged, Steelbeard swung his Forgekey arcing for a killing blow but the blade passed harmlessly through the ethereal foes. Another Mourngul swiped at Knight Yhuneska, shredding his wing harness and sending him flailing into a tree. Morrentis once again sliced through her foes but their deathless stamina kept them from falling. Cutoff, Brinewalker and Kret could only watch in horror as Morrentis and Steelbeard attempted to fend off the three Mournguls - weakened as they were. Falling masonry trapped Steelbeard and Morrentis took a blow that sent her skidding into an alley. She struggled to get up, the edges of her vision swarmed black, but she could tell this was the end. One Mourngul marched towards the trapped Runesmitter who howled curses while the other two crept towards her, she made to stand, to die on her feet but could not will her limbs to work, she would not show fear for that was not her way but she did wish to have a more distinguished death than this. The huge clawed hand rose up, but then the night sky illuminated with a golden glow, the Mourngul paused in its attack covering its face from the blinding light. A Goldwing soared overhead, its mystical call silencing all the cries of fear, only the crackling of flames could be heard. Then came the roar, “Bronze, Steel, and Gold! We are the Bold!” The Burnished Order had joined the fray and crashed into the Mournguls with zealous fury, their holy weapons burning into the apparitions.
Dazed, Stouthelm stumbled out of the family home, apologizing profusely to the shaking residents. The left side of Yhuneska’s helm was shattered, a large splinter pierced his idyllic face, the surgeons worked relentlessly to fix the damage but unfortunately could not save his eye. Steelbeard, received only cuts and bruises however something had changed in him, he wore a haunted expression and was less boisterous. Morrentis made a full recovery after a few days rest, when she inquired about Brinewalker’s condition, Kret angrily relayed of the Aelf’s treachery - the Soulscryer had attacked Kret from behind, knocking him unconscious and leaving the Knight Vexilor unable to get to the fight. New Lethis was off to a rocky start.
The King's Coronation
The Mourngul's were appearing at a steady pace, but they were no match for Crackedmorrow the Shifting Shade’s limitless hordes of daemons. Those apparitions that didn’t dissolve into mist, were captured and the experimentations began. It was a slow process, for if too much daemonic energy was used the Mourngul would dissipate, however using a little subversive suggestion even the deathly energies of Nagash could become chaotic. The progress of the corruption was visible in their ethereal bodies, the dark energies of chaos pumping through the spectral host. Wondrous mutations began to form - extra eyes or limbs, horns, claws, and fangs! Crackedmorrow’s legions of daemons would soon have new brethren.
Then the greatest gift of all arrived on the Island of Shadow and Death. The whispers from his web of spies told of this Mournking destroying all who stood against it. That it could appear anywhere and lead the Mournguls with unquestionable command. Now it came to the Citadel of Nightmares and Crackedmorrow could not be happier. Pruning his feathers and donning the Armor of the Pact, the Great Lord of Shifting Shades made to look his best. He took to wing alone to meet the new arrivals, crashing down upon the ashy ground just in front of the Mournking.
The Mournking wailed and his retinue charged forward. Crackedmorrow blasted two with his gifts of shadow, another one turned to mist after a barrage of shots from the gloomstaff, the final one was beaten to the ground with beak, claw, and wing. Dusting himself off, Crackedmorrow apologized to the Mournking, “Let us reintroduce ourselves my fellow monarch, welcome to MY DOMAIN”. If the Mournking understood, he did not reveal it for the paralyzing force of shadows held him in place. Crackedmorrow walked around the frozen Mournking, inspecting the monster with great interest. “You and I are going to have a great time getting to know each other better, ‘tis a shame your kin are so frail, but I sense a great strength in you. Shall we begin?” At that, the two shadows leaped into the depths of the Citadel of Nightmares and the operations began...
Long Live the King
Something had gone wrong. The gate was supposed to take them to some lake in Shyish where corruption was supposedly about to wipe out all the Realms. Instead, they had ended up in some strange land that would make him think Aqshy, but the Winds of magic had hints of all the realms in it. The gate also didn’t open back up to where they had come from, so there was no returning for now.
Scouts had found a city seemingly dedicated to Slaanesh, but the Harvester had decided they needed to establish themselves before wiping the Chaos worshippers out on principle. There seemed to be local peoples spread throughout the lands, so a Tithe could be established and a necrotopia formed in time. There was another problem though. A strange sorcerer had greeted them when they first arrived, but then sent word that some force had been awoken on a forsaken island.
Now ghuls were rampant everywhere. Perhaps not a good source of bones, but plenty of soulstuff to use. This also afforded an opportunity though. The path the legion forged to the grasslands had gone across vacant villages, bodies ravaged. A source of bones but also the chance to position themselves as heroes to the survivors. Now they were getting ahead of the hordes and intervening to save villages. It was then that they heard of a leader of these beasts, a seeming king of ghuls.
The Harvester made it a priority to chain that soul. Using a large village as bait, they set up to defend it against a horde. Break the waves against their wall long enough, and surely this king would show itself. Perhaps quicker than they anticipated, the king indeed made itself known.
While the Mortek Guard fanned out to intercept the wave of souls and ghuls coming at them, the Harvester ordered his soulmason to guide the Crawlers to begin bombardment. Blast after blast of death energy so strong it could even silence undeath rained down upon the king. While it wavered it wasn’t enough, and then the beasts were upon them.
The guard locked shields and desperately fought a defensive battle against the unceasing assault of the mad creatures. Boneshapers rose rank after rank of guard back into the battle, but weren’t able to keep up with the casualties inflicted. The wall was slowly crumbling, but the Harvester had calculated for that. The crawlers hadn’t stayed still this entire time, and the King was looking worse for wear. It threw itself into the guard’s line and seemed to start repairing itself as it fed on souls.
With a sudden command though, the crawlers retargeted the souls adjacent to the King. Quickly his attendants fell under the assault and the King found itself isolated. That is when the Harvester revealed itself, the slow behemoth suddenly accelerating itself nearly twice as fast from behind a quaint cottage and into the back of the embattled king.
With a creature of equal stature coming at it, the King seemed to ignore the guard struggling against it and turned to face the Harvester. Expecting its immaterial nature to protect it, the King sensed the multitude of souls inside the Harvester and opened its maw wide in anticipation. This proved a mistake, as the limbs of the harvester ripped straight through it. The power of the Null Myriad is to overcome the supernatural, and the Baneful Blade embedded in the Harvester makes its blows unstoppable. No warding magic, no runes or ethereal nature can save one from the hungering nadirite threaded throughout the vicious limbs of the cunningly crafted frame and the King experienced this first hand as it was torn apart.
In the aftermath, the people of the village slowly came out of their homes. The strange skeleton beings had broken the wave that had consumed their neighbors and they began to celebrate. Throughout the night they feasted, they drank, and their saviors stayed on the edge of the village, keeping watch.
The morning reveals though that they were doing something throughout the night as well. A monolith now stood at the village’s edge, a Bone Tithe Nexus to keep eternal watch over the city. That morning the village elder was met with a member of the Emissarians with a contract. Salvation wasn’t free, the Tithe would be paid.
Howling on the Wind
The wind was howling at the gates of the Ash-Fall Hold, for days it had been blowing, it flew around the peak crying out its mournful song. As Derranar - Karl of the Ash-Fire Fyrds’ Auric Hearthguard - stood guard the wind picked up and he shivered, then checked himself, this close to the volcano it was never cold, something wasn’t right. The howling grew louder and a sense of unease gripped him tightly. For an hour he stood there, steeled against the eerie cries. But as the sun set and the horizon burned in its light, the howling stopped. For long moments all was silent, no noise could be heard, no movement stirred the air.
A horrifying scream split the night, anguished and terrible it shattered the silence and struck all who heard it with dread and terror. Then as Derranar stood stricken watched a huge maw full of thousands of needle sharp teeth appear out of the wall. Following it was an ethereal body of stretched and cracked skin, with trailing, withered arms and wicked claws. But worst its skin was torn asunder, revealing a broken ribcage and hanging, tattered flesh. And beneath that, nothing.
“Mournghul” He cried, forcing his leaden muscles to move. “Hearthguard to me! Bring it down!”
At the sound of his voice those around him began to stir, his hearthguard responding to their Karl so as his ornate magmapike fired forth a gout of searing magma, the cave lit up, torrents of lava pouring forth and into the monster. It was burning, burning fast, its flesh eaten up by the flames, yet as it died it thrashed and screamed, its clawed limbs flailing, raking through duardin and flinging them across the cave. A last strike flew out at Derranar as the creature crashed to the floor. He moved to doge, but not fast enough and a claw sliced open his arm. A bad wound, but he was alright considering, if he hadn’t moved he probably would have lost his head.
More screams were carried in from outside even as the first mourngul died… more were coming. Turning to Faldyr, who stood nearby, he signaled at him and called “Sound your horn, call for aid”
Faldyr nodded in assent, and put his mouth to the horn he bore. The deep, rich notes echoed around Derranar’s head, its loud call rising above the wailing screams. More horns responded from deep in the Hold, reinforcements would be here soon but it would be their job to stop the Mournguls here.
“Ryrnor, get that gate open, and get your vulkites out front! You’ll need to engage the ghouls, and protect my hearthguard. We can bring them down if you give us cover”
“Aye” He called to the berserkers arrayed behind him “Come on then lads, let's show these bloody ghosts what Fyreslayers are made of!”
A chorus of shouts and roars met his words and he led his berserkers charging out through the opening gate even as more mournguls appeared, their ghostly forms flying through the walls. As Derranar watched them, the battle rage still hot in his heart was being forced down, a creeping throbbing cold was seeping through him, he shuddered. The wound in his arm was throbbing with a freezing sensation, slowly numbing his senses. He growled in anger and his runes began to flare, their heat fighting back the cold as his resolve grew stronger, this was no time to give in.
The Mournghuls were pouring in now, straight from the walls and into the Vulkites “Forward!” Cried Karl Ryrnor “Drive them back!” The toll was brutal, the Duardin fought admirably and brought down several of the creatures in their rage, yet Derranar could see they were struggling, only the constant fire of his Hearthguard’s magmapikes were keeping them at bay.
They couldn’t hold them much longer, but they must. Reinforcements were coming, and the Ash-Fyrd Hold must not fall.
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