Blood and souls. That had been the harvest reaped by the damnable unity of Aelf & malignant. In the hubris of deigning that the matrimony of two ‘noble’ houses could bring forth peace, disruption had reigned. For at the height of the festivities to celebrate such a lauded alliance, slaughter ensued as the denizens of Wittenford were beset by assaults from a heinous coalition. For in the depths of Vollature wood, an unholy alliance was struck.
Agents of foul Ssarithyn, High Priestess of Khaine, had roused the vengeful spirits of the Scarlet Demise from their cairns. The blood-bride sought to overthrow houses Cywin & Wyrdcraft from within, her sisterhood already infiltrating the cosmopolitan aristocracy and converting the cityfolk to the glory of Khaine.
Through bloody bargain, the Wyches would alter the wards and waypoints allowing the gheists to enact vengeance upon those that condemned them to Nagash’s servitude. In return, the unquiet dead would hunt & stalk Wittenfords’ figureheads until - with their resolve shattered - they could be manipulated into conceding more control to the Sisterhood.
The ritualistic slaughter that followed would see thousands of souls torn from the bled, a currency the tortured spirits could offer up in parlay to their undying king. Perhaps the fell punisher would lift the Scarlet Curse from his subjects if enough souls could be offered?
Yet such morbid machinations faltered. Though their infiltration succeeded, amassing a combined force that swelled beyond those needed to overthrow the mortal armies, the malignant spirits had become immersed within Wittenford society. Grief and sorrow had sustained the spirits for centuries, and - though fuelled by a deep seated desire to torture those who had wronged them in life - the gheists gained access to the lives of their descendants. Their sacrifice could be witnessed bearing fruit, and through their supernatural powers had been granted the ability to save their kin from ills as their protectors. Through infiltrating their dreams and acting unseen, they had become vigilantes and guardians both.
But such folly was futile, and short lived. Nagash would not be denied, and neither it seemed, would Ssarithyn.
At the zenith of the insurrection, even as the blood began to flow freely within the streets, the undead revolted. The rampages of the Khainites were challenged as their 'allies' had become picky about which districts and doors could be offered up to the lord of murder.
Now fractured in purpose, the forces of Ssarithyn & cursed Edda were met with overwhelming resistance before their plan could see rotten fruition. It seemed the unity of houses had proceeded in secret, and beyond the gaze of her spies, other coalitions had been crafted unseen. As the blood-brides and spectres stalled in their coup, an opposing force arose to confront them. The combined arms of houses Cywin & Wyrdcraft seized the fallen quarters of Wittenford from the cultists and their allies, forcing their retreat. After a series of disorder battles within the boroughs, the sisterhood slinked back unto its intricate network to avoid annihilation, whilst the Sigmarite priesthood went to work unbinding the undead.
Edda - she who is most grievously wronged - used her otherworldly wail to stutter the priests’ assault, as the spirits poured from Wittenford back into Vollature Woods.
That same howl would be heard both within the woods and pricking every window in Wittenford for an age. For Edda was so overwhelmed with grief at having been so close, and yet so far, to peace & purpose both. She raged and railed within the blighted boughs in infinity. Gales of grief and showers of sorrow poured from her incorporeal form, buffeting every branch and bark for leagues. The remaining gheists offered up their cries in chorus, until their anguish seeped into the very root & sap of Vollature.
Long dormant spirits woke to the wails of the undead, the anguish amplifying their own long-brooding disdain for the denizens of Wittenford. There, deep within the cursed copse, another pact was made. One that would see the Scarlet Demise know flesh once more, and the dwellers within gain the vengeful spirits they needed to rouse their kin to seek retribution among the realms.
Infused with mutual arcane energies, the amalgamation of malignance & corporeal creatures began to scry the world roots for a proving ground in which to test the limits of their newfound power. Their gaze falling upon the ravaged coast, and the lure of Emberstone.
Blood and souls would flow once more.
