Age of Sigmar: Omnibus

She held out a hand to one of the nearby Wyldwood trees. Its trunk shuddered and a knothole parted, disgorging a bulbous grub. Though but a larva, it was as long as her forearm. It crawled over the leaf-carpeted ground and burrowed into the magic-rich dirt at her feet. A few moments passed before the ground under her feet started to tremble. Leaf and earth parted as an immense swarm of glinting fireflies erupted around her. Swirling like sparks, they coalesced into a single creature. The massive wardroth beetle bore up the Everqueen, its carapace glistening like oil, antlers gleaming in the light of Alarielle’s aura.

She added a fresh melody to her call, the long note of a horn that echoed through the trees. Haunting, distant replies drifted back to her, rebounding and growing in volume. She felt the flow of magic changing, becoming a stream and then a river, converging on her location from many directions.

From the trees came forth her Kurnoth Hunters, each taller than any warrior of Chaos, with bark stronger than metal armour. Some carried long, straight swords, others bore scythes that could slay the largest mortal monster with a single blow. The rest were armed with greatbows, accompanied by scurrying quiverlings — spites that grew fresh missiles from their backs.

Their leader, Raldorath the Huntmaster, came forwards and bowed low. He looked at the broken bastion, wooden brow furrowing.

‘A harsh task, my queen,’ he said. ‘Though the wall be broken, the Vale of Winternight holds an army of foes.’

‘Yet not enough to hold back my ire,’ said the queen. ‘With me, Hunters of Kurnoth — your prey awaits.’

High upon the hunched back of the wardroth beetle, her wings of light flowing behind her, the Everqueen advanced quickly through the Wyldwoods. The Kurnoth Hunters spread around her, loping strides carrying them as swiftly as their queen. More treelords and ancients answered her call as she moved. Among them marched the mightiest of the old nobles — the Spirits of Durthu.

The fog had all but dissipated, and as Alarielle emerged from the Wyldwoods she saw that two of the seven towers had fallen. Yet from the upper reaches of those remaining, missiles and fire cascaded down upon the spirits surging through the breaches.

‘Break the towers, bring them down!’ she commanded. The Spirits of Durthu responded to her command, breaking away to fall upon the nearest fortification.

She felt the swirl of magic as the revered treelords summoned the energy of the Jade Kingdoms, letting it pass through their bodies. It erupted from outstretched limbs in gusts of emerald energy, scouring the armoured warriors from the higher limbs and platforms of the tower. The treelords smashed against the blackened trunk with their fists and stomped upon the ground to break open its foundations, root-claws driving deep into the earth. Throwing their weight against the tower while others dragged at the upper limbs, three of the huge forest spirits sent the entire tree-edifice crashing down. More armoured warriors plummeted to their doom as it fell, and those that picked their way out of the splintered, black-leafed foliage were swiftly crushed by the raging Spirits of Durthu.

The wall was shattered, more towers falling as the sylvaneth ascended into the heights and tore at their roots. Alarielle could feel the Vale of Winternight responding. She let her essence gush free into the land beyond, bracing herself against the clammy touch of decay that still lingered within.

She searched back and forth, seeking the slightest trace of Clan Faech, steeling herself against the cold darkness as she plunged deeper into the Chaos-tainted magic permeating the vale. Her song became a strident call, ringing clear through the wash of wyldmagic flowing into the valley.

The flutter of an answering spirit-song drew her into the heart of the vale, the loathsome power of Nurgle like a cold corpse hand pawing at her body. Pressing past, she looked for the tiniest glimmer of the song’s source.

She found it ringed with Chaos power, a cornered animal panting and whining with fear. Anger replaced Alarielle’s distaste and she forged on, fuelled by ire. At the approach of the Everqueen’s presence the corruption parted, scattered like leaves in a gale, but swiftly the taint returned, pressing hard against her soulform.

The grim surroundings nearly silenced her voice. The crushing stench of Chaos energy was overpowering, endless waves of decrepitude and corruption crashing over her. Her light was no star, nothing more than a guttering spark in everlasting darkness. Timidity all but stilled the tongue of her spirit-song.