v1.6.2a consists of the Norscan Fate Live Event. The Live Event has 10 tasks for both realms. This Live Event ushers in new content, early access to this new content is determined by the winning realm in a ‘realm-pool competition’. Players individually contribute to a realm-pool, but the victor is determined by the success of the whole realm. However, the only players who can partake in the early-access of the content are players who have obtained the Elite Reward. Members of the winning realm who obtained the Elite Reward have 3 weeks early access, and members of the losing realm who obtained the Elite Reward have 10 days early access. Read more…
Situated along the coast of the Sea of Claws is the Norscan fishing village of Stormstaad. The forces of Chaos seek to claim the village for their war levy while the forces of the Empire seek to preserve what humanity remains among the ramshackle huts.
The Stormstaad scenario is a three-point capture scenario. The forces of Order have their warcamp in the west, and the forces of Destruction in the east. Nestled between the two warcamps is the village itself with the primary objectives of: the mill, the village hall, and the wharf. Read more…
The forces of Order thought that their efforts to suppress the forces of Khorne would suffice to quell his ambitions, little did they know that their actions only served to deepen his hunger for blood. The Bloody Summer of Praag, as it became known, was but the first swing of the pendulum. From the halls of his mighty citadel Khorne sent forth his Scions, but an army is not built by a few mighty champions. No, Khorne had to levy his troops elsewhere, and fate would have it that Norsca was the prime recruiting ground for the gods of Chaos… Read more…
After the Bloody Summer defending Praag our commanders deemed our unit in need of lighter duties… to give our minds ease. The carnage that ensued in Praag after Khorne’s appetite was awaken was horrendous; the weak of mind went mad and wandered off into the Northern Wastes never to be seen again. We witnessed bloodshed on a scale unseen; however, we were still soldiers. So our unit followed the River Lynsk south to Erengrad and then commandeered a vessel to take us to the northern outpost of the realm of civilized men – Norsca. Our commander assured us that the struggle in these harsh lands would be easier on seasoned soldiers like ourselves. We were to keep an eye on the weak-willed Norse and make sure the Raven Host made no great inroads in this dreary region.
Our outpost was on the outskirts of some plague-stricken town by the name of Gotland. The villages were infested with savage Norse men and women seeking to join the Raven Host, and it was our job to suppress their foolish thoughts. Every now and then we would bring in a villager and interrogate him – some needed more coaxing than others. “Elements of the Raven Host in that village,” or, “My village elder is the vessel of Tzeentch,” – false reports not worthy of our time. That was until one night late into Autumn… that night changed everything.
Late one night a patrol came back with a savage bound by chains raving like a mad man. He’d bit one of the younger lads; the wound was festering and driving the lad into a feverish delirium. As the sergeant of the watch I called the officer on duty, some noble’s bastard spawn seeking honor, and we approached the man who closer resembled a rabid beast.
“And from where does this beast come?” asked the officer.
“We picked him up north by the river towards Thorshafn,” the sergeant of the patrol replied.
“What ails you man? Do the Chaos powers possess you? From what village do you come?” the officer spurted question after question, giving the name no time to reply.
The creature hung his head low rattling the chains that bound him.
The sergeant of the patrol landed a heavy blow on the creature’s head with his spear-staff sending the creature to his knees. “Answer the officer, foul spawn!”
The savage begun to laugh an unearthly laugh and looked up at the officer piercing the officer’s body with his bloodshot eyes. He then lunged at the officer knocking him to the ground and began to bite at him with a bestial ferocity unknown to civilized men. A dozen spears went into the man’s body; he rolled off the officer, revealing a sickening bloody smile and with his last breath said through those bloody teeth, “Khorne hasn’t forgotten, Blood for the Blood God.” With those words the blood left every man’s face leaving us specters in the Norscan night.
It was a bloody nightmare happening all over again…
~ Jurgen Kuper, Sergeant of the Altdorf Volunteer Regiment