v1.8.5a consists of the Turbulent Winds live event. With the forces of Slaanesh feeding off of the suffering of the forces of Order, Slaanesh is committing more forces to the struggle – and bearing the brunt of the attack are the worn out and weary soldiers of Kislev. Cascading down the icy slopes of the Norse mountains is a strange warmth causing the Kislevite soldiers stationed along the frontier to fall into a false sense of comfort. Sensing the anomaly in the north, the Kislevite commanders prepare for a second onslaught. Key in their preparations is fueling the winds of Ice Magic to counter the unnatural warmth which is no doubt being fueled by the sadistic forces of Slaanesh. Read more…
And this, children, is Eltharion’s Plaza! In all of Tor Yvresse no place is more solemn, no place dearer to our Warden than this. Why, children? Let me tell you the sad tale of this plaza…
A long time ago before Eltharion was our Warden, he was a young elf full of courage and exquisite martial skill. Few Asur commanders ever dared to raid Naggaroth, and of those none ever came back. None until Eltharion. Our dear Warden went to that dark land and assaulted Malekith’s lair to let the Druchii know that they were safe no where and the Asur feared them not. Unbeknownst to him, during his raid on Naggaroth a greenskin war-horde landed upon the shores of Yvresse and led a bloody assault on our shining city. Eltharion knew not of the struggle that was taking place here, and during his raid on Naggaroth he was mortally wounded and lay in his death throes as his ship sailed home for Ulthuan. It was a vision of his father dying at the hands of the greenskins in Tor Yvresse that gave Eltharion the strength to recover and to return to Tor Yvresse to repel the greenskins. With the previous Warden dead and much of the city in ruins, Eltharion was given the mantle of the Warden and he tasked the Yvressians to rebuild their mighty city. Everywhere the buildings were rebuilt, everywhere save where his family was slaughtered by the greenskins. His own home he did not rebuild, instead he let nature reclaim the soils into which his family’s blood soaked. That place is where we stand now, Eltharion’s Plaza, and we stand here to always remember the sacrifices of our ancestor’s and always be alert for the forces of darkness which seek to end our way of life.
~ Cedwic Firecloud of Tor Yvresse
“Who goes there?!”
“Easy corporal, it’s Sergeant Blut”
“Sorry sir, it’s just this blasted snow blowing everywhere… all I can see is white! Makes me jump at every sound I hear.”
“These damned mountains have a way of playing tricks on the senses, that much is true.”
“I don’t even know why we post pickets in this weather, why I wouldn’t see the enemy before they was breathin’ down my neck! And worst yet, if they kill me, no one will hear my cry over this infernal wind!”
“A soldier’s duty… we cannot let our guard down and grow callous in our duties. Somewhere in that white emptiness beyond Avalanche Pass lays the Raven Host. We must keep vigilant!”
“Why do you suppose they call it that, sir? Avalanche Pass I mean.”
“These are the Jotunheims boy, there be giants in those mountains lookin’ for a fresh meal…”
~ Conversation between Corporal Tangrid and Sergeant Blut of the Ostermark Mountain Watch
Sinister winds stir in the mountains of Norsca, but these are not dark winds boding ill tidings. No, these winds radiate warmth and lure the weary cold-stricken Kislevites to a false promise. As the purple cascade of false warmth flows gently down the mountains of Norsca unto the steppes of Kislev, another icy blue wind from the heart of Kislev rushes north to counter the false warmth of Chaos. The result – a veritable windstorm over the heads of the Kislevits as the warm purples clash and collide with the icy blues. Though many long for warmth in the harsh winter of Kislev, in these trouble times they must have faith in the purity of ice. A storm is gathering over Kislev as Slaanesh begins his struggle to seduce the hearts and minds of the weak humans, but can the magics of Kislev put a chill on Slaanesh’s ambitions? Read more…
Fort Straghov… they tell our kin back in the Empire that we died defending this rotting fort at the foot of Norsca, no would will know where we died. It was here they sent my company of the Altdorf Volunteer’s Regiment. Here… Fort Straghov, a decrepit wooden outpost with walls as gaping as a farmer’s fence. Winter is setting in and my boys have to not only keep watch in that freezing cold, but come night we sleep with the sheer wind cutting through our tents and blankets. The fortress walls offer no protection against the wind, I dread to think what little use they’d offer if the hordes of Chaos came upon us.
Back in Norsca we faced the blood-crazed Norse savages who came at us as wild unstoppable beasts. A blow that would normally fell a man did little to sway them. No, with those savages we had to hack em to bits and let their blood drain into the soil before they stopped raving. In the defense of Gotland my superiors fell to the savages and I was was ‘promoted’ simply because I’d been around the longest. Been around the longest? Just means I ain’t died yet, I pity all the lads who ‘ave died. New noble whelp comes from Nuln to command the company – suits me fine, I don’t have to order my boys to die. Then we get our orders to march to this dreaded fort in the early days of winter. It’s one thing to march with the elements bearing down on you, it’s another to march knowing you not only head closer to the winds of Chaos, but you march into the heart of winter. It becomes a question of what’s going to get you first – the freezing cold or some foul beast of Chaos? Given the options, some men turn to the third option – their own blade…
And so the 2nd company of the 1st battalion of the Altdorf Volunteer Regiment made way for Fort Straghov with the other three companies to follow behind several days, as to not strip the countryside of too much resources as we passed. One thousand soldiers of the Empire on the march, and we were the spearhead, heading towards a fort whose previous garrison was found naked and slaughtered in pools of blood and other bodily fluids. Our orders were simple – arrive at the fort, clear out all the bodies and kill anyone on sight who didn’t fly the banner of the Empire or of Kislev. Word amongst the men was that Slaanesh was at work, that’s why the Kislevite garrison was slaughtered by women. Rule of thumb was don’t trust the women in these parts. We did our duty, cleared the bodies and kept the fort safe. But then the problems began to come one after another…
First some noble looking woman came with four servants – all female. She claimed she was the regimental colonel’s wife. The captain being a young lad said we must let her in, was the gentleman’s thing to do. Me and the lads told him no one comes near the fort if they’re not displaying the Empire or Kislev’s colors, and no women! He rebuked our cries of common sense and said that he could not turn away the colonel’s wife. So the stupid lout let them in, and we eyed them like hawks day and night. A few days passed and the other companies did not show on schedule… we all began to grow worried. The lads grew anxious, their watch turned from the ladies to the horizon, constantly scanning for the other companies. Then one night it happened, the blasted women crept into the captains tent and massacred him and his guards before throwing themselves onto the rest of the company. Five crazed women, just five. A score of our lads slaughtered and two dozen more wounded. Cursed women of Slaanesh.
Now the command falls on my shoulders once again. Hold the fort through the winter until reinforcements arrive. I don’t suspect anyone would be mad enough to attack in the freezing winter, but then again I’d never seen five women slaughter twenty men. But strange things are afoot in this infernal land – the skies to the north in the mountains of Norsca glow with a warm purple hue and come cascading down into the steppes of Kislev. From the south icy blue winds soar north colliding into the purple winds of the north in a bright storm over our heads. Their warmth draws the men, but I tell my boys to not be lured by the wiles of Slaanesh. So here we are, holding our post in Fort Straghov as the winds clash above… I pray Sigmar watches over us as we weather the winter and the winds of Chaos.
~ Jurgen Kuper, Captain of the Altdorf Volunteer Regiment