Mylori roared in pain as the healers rubbed a foul-smelling paste onto his scarred face. It had been weeks since the battle, and his shoulder had all but healed, but the burnt handprint on his face was still as clear as the day that accursed priest had given it to him.
"Damn them! How long till this thing fades?"
The healers were quiet for a moment before one, an aged, white haired dwarf, spoke softly.
"We do think that the wound will ever fade. There is a powerful magic at work here."
The Dwarf roared in anguish before regaining control and taking heaving breathes.
"What about my shoulder? Can I fight?"
"We have removed the infection, your strength should return by the Autumn"
Mylori allowed himself a smile that grew into a booming laugh.
"Excellent! I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Fetch Tavirin here, we have much to discuss"
Garrison
Province 61 -3 Heavy Infantry Units -4 Artillery Units -10 Mechanical Warriors Units -1 Mechanical Walkers Units -11 War-Magi Units
Province 51 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -7 Artillery Units -32 Mechanical Warriors Units -9 Mechanical Walkers Units -39 War-Magi Units
Province 48 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -6 Mechanical Walkers Units -12 War-Magi Units
Province 47 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -13 War-Magi Units
Mylori roared out in pain, a stream of curses coming from his mouth as the healers did what they could to staunch the blood flowing from the arrow lodged in his shoulder. It had been a lucky shot from some cowardly archer, the arrow punching through the chink in the dwarves armour and lodging itself several inches into his flesh.
In the heat of the battle, sheer adrenaline and bloodlust had pushed the Forgelord into almost a frenzy, slaughtering his enemies with an unmerciful zeal, but as the flag of the Broken Empire was raised above the final stronghold of the Holy Lands, Mylori had slumped to the ground, pain finally overwhelming him.
And so it was that the Warlock Thro’Gan found the dwarf pinned down to a table by his Hammerbearers as the Dwarf healers cut into his shoulder, seeking to remove the arrow from its festering wound before infection could take hold. Smelling the unmistakable stench of death, even through his blinding pain, Mylori turned towards the Warlock and all but roared at the Orc.
“Damn you Orc, I’m not dead yet”
Mylori thought he saw a flicker of emotion cross the necromancers face, but quickly dismissed it as the black eyes bored into his own bloodshot ones.
“You are right Forgelord. You still cling to this mortal realm. Allow me to ease your passing”
The Forgelord grimaced with pain as the healers finally pulled the arrow from his shoulder.
“You’d love that you bastard. But you’re not going to get your icy hands on my just yet”
With a crash, Tavirin Blackstone burst into the room, breathing heavily and still grasping his bloody war hammer. Taking in the scene, the Dwarf glowered at the Warlock and spoke in a low, rumbling voice.
“You’re not wanted here Warlock, this is Dwarf business”
Turning to look at the newly arrived Forgelord for a moment, the Orc stepped past him and out of the room. The stench lingered, but Mylori couldn’t be sure that wasn’t coming from his own gaping wound. Tavirin stepped closer to his fellow Dwarf but grimaced as Mylori turned towards him.
“Mylori, your face…”
Raising a hand to his face, feeling the raw burns that stretched across his features, Mylori winced, even as the healers applied herbs and pastes to numb the pain of his wounds.
“Damn those priests and their accursed gods. Let one get too close, his hands were like fire. Managed to grab my face before I cut him down”
True enough, a blackened handprint was printed onto the Forgelords face, the skin charred and burnt away. Trying not to stare at the horrific wound, Tavirin spoke again.
“I arrived with the support; we cut of what was left of the Holy Lands forces. I came here as quickly as I could when I heard that you had been injured. Will you survive?”
Mylori let out a rough, ragged laugh.
“As long as I can friend. Can’t give that bloody Orc any satisfaction”
Tavirin nodded. He knew that there was much to be done before the summer months came, and that Mylori would fight death at every step. Turning to the gathered Hammerbearers, Tavirin spoke in hushed voices to them.
“Remain with Forgelord Mylori, and ensure that our Orc friends do not get their hands on him. If the Warlock attempts to see him, you have my authority to deny him”
Satisfied that the healers would do what they could, Tavirin turned and left the room. He had barely left when a Dwarf, lightly armoured and gasping for breath, called out his name.
“Forgelord Tavirin! A rider from the north comes with news from New Engelica. He claims that they have won a victory against the Holy Lands, and our scouts say that even now their forces are marching towards us.”
Tavirin paused for a moment. He was impressed by their new-found allies, obvious the stories of their magical power were more than just folk-stories. The Broken Empire would honour their promise; this province belonged to New Engelica, even if it was Dwarven blood that was spilt to claim it, the price for alliance. Speaking to the messenger, the Forgelord described his orders.
“Thank the rider, and send him back to his homeland with our appreciation, and to tell his leaders that the Broken Empire honours the agreement, and we will be gone from this land by the time they arrive. Then spread the order, we shall march out of this land when the snow lifts, burn the dead and leave none behind.”
Garrison
Province 61 -3 Heavy Infantry Units -4 Artillery Units -10 Mechanical Warriors Units -11 War-Magi Units
Province 51 -3 Heavy Infantry Units -4 Artillery Units -27 Mechanical Warriors Units -8 Mechanical Walkers Units -29 War-Magi Units
Province 51 -2 Heavy Infantry Units -3 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -1 Mechanical Walkers Units -7 War-Magi Units
Province 48 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -6 Mechanical Walkers Units -11 War-Magi Units
Province 47 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -12 War-Magi Units
Actions
3 Heavy Infantry Units, 4 Artillery Units, 27 Mechanical Warriors Units, 8 Mechanical Walkers Units and 29 War-Magi Units move from Province 53 into Province 51
It was Tavirin, the oldest of the three Forgelords who moved through the Holy Lands under the cover of night, and the conjured darkness of the Orcs, into the nation of New Engelica. They had only travelled for a few hours before their small party, nothing more than the Forgelord and a personal bodyguard of ten Hammerbearers was greeted by a party of quick-footed Elf rangers. Tavirin explained to them that they intended to meet with the leaders of New Engelica, and after some hushed discussion, the rangers led them through the rolling hills and valleys. Finally coming to a towering stone building that radiated magic and set Tavirin’s hairs on end, the small party from the Broken Empire was led inside.
As the Dwarves walked out into the main square, whispers echoed all around them as young elves and humans emerged from corridors all around them to see the visitors for themselves. Tavirin allowed himself a smile and stood taller as he strode towards the keep of the castle. With a flourish, two figures burst forth from the keep even as the Forgelord moved towards it. The first was wearing an extravagant emerald dress, gold chain around her neck and fiery hair splayed around her face. Wielding a flashy silver staff sporting an elaborate golden dragon coiled around its top, she radiated mystic power. But it was the man behind this woman that caught Tavirin’s attention. Wearing simple black robes, and carrying nothing but a simple wooden staff, his very presence set the Dwarf on edge. This train of thought however was interrupted by the woman all but shouting across the square.
"You! Tell me of your business with New Engelica."
Tavirin Blackstone allowed himself a slight smile; he’d been negotiating before either of these two leaders’ parents had even been born.
“Not the most courteous way to greet guests from a foreign land m’lady. Perhaps we can be civil, one leader to another. The Dwarf you see before you is Forgelord Tavirin Blackstone, Member of the Broken Council, son of Bron Blackstone and at the moment, an emissary from the Broken Empire. You, I assume, are Leana Broadwalk, and may I say you are as beautiful as the stories say. And you, my lord, must be Alec Bredain, the Ruin King himself, although you do not decorate yourself as many foolish kings across this land do.”
Striding across the courtyard he now stood in, leaving the small party of Dwarves to form into ranks behind him, Tavirin stopped a few metres away from the two leaders and glanced at the golden dragon coiled around the top of the sorceresses’ staff and smiled slightly.
“Have you ever seen a dragon m’lady? I doubt it; after all, they’ve been extinct from these lands for centuries. All the stories you hear about them, their hordes of treasures and the brave knights that killed them, they’re just stories. I’ve never seen a dragon with a horde, and I certainly wasn’t a gallant knight last time I separated one from its head.”
Straightening up again, the Forgelord looked up into their faces. Years around the Orcs had gotten Tavirin used to looking up at others when he spoke, not that his neck liked it.
“But I’m rambling. Excuse an old dwarf. You asked me of my business, well it’s really rather simple. The Holy Lands to your East are a volatile and aggressive people. As we speak, my nation’s armies are already marching to war against them. I come to you with a request of alliance against them, or at the very least your promise not to get involved in the coming war. So what do you say?”
It was the Ruin King himself that replied to the Dwarf, stepping forward.
"You sweeten your words well, my lord. However, maybe we could do the diplomatic talk inside. Before a warm fire with a nice wine - I mean ale."
Tavirin smiled at the Mage-Kings words and set off after him towards the doors of the castle proper, paying no heed to the icy look from the sorceress. Following the pair into a parlour, warmed by a roaring fire, the Dwarf lifted a flagon of ale from the table to his side and took a healthy swig. It was sweet, not as good as Dwarven brewed, but a fine brew and a welcome drink after his party’s journey to new Engelica. Thirst slightly sated, the human king across the table from him spoke.
"We heard rumors of the dangerously...fanatic people on our eastern border. You were so honest to state that your own armies are marching inwards. Thus I will admit that our armies will soon do the same. I promise you that they will not march into the same province as your army. Torn between 2 marching foes, I doubt that the Holy Lands stand much of a chance. The real question is, what will we do with the central province? If your armies march south and mine march north, they are bound to clash in that area."
Listening to the carefully chosen words of the ruler carefully and nodding in agreement, Tavirin leant forward towards the map unrolled on the table and spoke himself.
“We can take the central Province together, using our combined strength to break apart the Holy Lands last resistance. From there, we can strike out at the lands of Limgar, another aggressive nation to the North that is hungry to expand its borders. We’re willing to allow you to claim the central Province of the Holy Lands, with your promise to aid us against Limgar. From there, I see no reason why our two nations can’t continue to work together.”
Alec was silent for a moment, staring down at the map, before he spoke, leaning back as he did so.
"We thank you for your offer. But I see no reason why I should sacrifice brave men and women from New Engelica for a foreign power's conquest merely so we can claim a single extra province from the Holy lands."
Tavirin already had his mouth open to reply before Leana Broadwalk cut across him, her voice softer now that they were inside.
"If I may, what if we did support you in your conquest of Limgar. But in return, we also take the most western province of Limgar. So your Broken Empire gets 1 province from the Holy Lands and 2 from Limgar. While we take 2 provinces from the Holy Lands and one from Limgar."
Alec, obviously trusting the sorceress, nodded in agreement and added his own voice to the offer.
"Such conquest could lay the foundations of a longer lasting peace indeed. What do you say, Forgelord?"
The Forgelord smiled, glad that he had successfully won the support of New Engelica "You're as savvy as they say, and I'll take your agreement."
Tavirin refilled his flagon before raising it towards the ceiling.
"To peace and war"
The two rulers raised their own glasses of wine, Leana with white and Alec with red, and joined his toast.
“To peace and war”
Garrison
Province 61 -4 Heavy Infantry Units -8 Artillery Units -35 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -41 War-Magi Units
Province 51 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -10 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -11 War-Magi Units
Province 48 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -6 Mechanical Walkers Units -10 War-Magi Units
Province 47 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -11 War-Magi Units
Actions
Mylori Firehammer roared aloud as his Great Axe sliced across the chest of yet another Elf. Leaving the warrior to desperately try and staunch the gush of blood from his fatal wounds, and pray to the gods who had so hopelessly abandoned the Holy Lands.
Bursting out into somewhat of a clearing in the battle, Mylori took a second to look around. To either side of him, the iron warriors of the Broken Empire were cutting a bloody path through the Holy Land’s armies. Arrows simply glanced off, and swords did nothing but dent their frames as they butchered Elf and Human alike with no mercy and no soul. Mylori was at the head of a small group of Hammerbearers, leading the Mechanical Warriors and Walkers of the Broken Empire, and even as he watched, one of those towering monstrosities thudded beside him, flame spewing from its sides as it shrugged off any blow intended to kill it.
Across on the other flank, Mylori could make out the black armoured Lichguard, formed up around Warlock Thro'Gan, easily cutting their way through any who thought to reach their precious charge. Even as the Forgelord watched, the Warlock turned towards him, seeming to sense the Dwarf’s eyes on him, simply nodding in respect before turning back to his work, hands moving before him as the undead legions marched to war. Even as the soldiers of the Holy Empire fell to the ground, they rose up once more, turning on those who had called them friends just seconds before. It was a gruesome and horrifying sight, but it was brutally effective.
The battle lasted less than an hour, what remained of the Holy Lands defence in the province breaking and scattering, abandoning their home in the face of the Broken Empire’s invasion.
Mylori was waiting for the Warlock, sitting in the carved throne of the province’s old leader, the same leader that had turned and fled during the night. When Thro'Gan finally burst into the throne room, Lichguard flanking him as always, Mylori allowed himself a smile, rising to his feet.
“An impressive victory Warlock, it seems that the borders of the Broken Empire have spread, and the ranks of your undead have swelled. A good day, the first of many I hope.”
The expression of the Orc did not change, black eyes staring back at the dwarf, face emotionless. The rasping whisper cut across the room.
“The souls of those I bring back from the dead are returned when my use for them is gone”
Mylori almost lost a step; he had always assumed that the Orcs damned the souls of those they abused. Shaking his head clear, the Dwarf spoke again.
“You know of our plans, we are to leave a skeleton garrison and then push on into the Holy Lands once more when spring comes. This will be the hammer blow that breaks the Holy Lands back. Prepare your men for war once more.”
Without saying a word the Warlock turned and strode from the room, leaving Mylori and his Hammerbearers alone for a second, the stench of death still hanging in the room.
1 Heavy Infantry Units, 4 Artillery Units, 25 Mechanical Warriors Units, 5 Mechanical Walkers Units and 31 War-Magi Units move from Province 61 into Province 53
3 Heavy Infantry Units, 2 Artillery Units, 5 Mechanical Warriors Units, 5 Mechanical Walkers Units and 4 War-Magi Units move from Province 51 into Province 53
Forgelord Mylori Firehammer stopped mid-swing, hammer aloft, as the sickly sweet odour of death cut through the acrid smell of the forge. Turning, and lowering the hammer as he did so, Mylori saw the figure of the Warlock Thro'Gan. The Dwarf met the Orc’s eyes and barely suppressed a shudder, he’d never gotten used to the eyes. Eyes as black as midnight, Mylori remembered the old wives saying and grimaced under his heavy forge mask, if the eyes really were a window to the soul then the Warlocks had souls as black as they come. Mylori raised the forge mask as the Warlock began to speak in the hushed, rattling whisper that they all possessed.
“There is a darkness coming from the East, one beyond our control. You are needed at the council chambers to discuss our future plans”
With that, the Warlock turned and was gone. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Mylori looked after the figure and grimaced. When the Orcs had first come, he had been one of the few of them to oppose their offer. But he had been outvoted by his comrades, and been forced to accept the decision. Now these mysterious creatures wandered through every city of the Broken Empire, spreading the foul stench of their unholy craft.
But Mylori couldn’t blame his countrymen. They had been shattered by enemies from all around, beaten bloody and almost wiped from existence. So these Orc’s, with their immense power and grand promises had easily persuaded the Dwarves to agree to their offer; to forge monstrous metal machines and fight alongside the Orc’s. And they had won, Mylori had seen first-hand the sheer power that the Warlocks boasted, as they raised the very dead themselves to fight for them. And the Orc Warriors, or Lichguard as they called themselves, were so brutal and lethal in battle that Mylori couldn’t help but be impressed. And yet now this desperate agreement had become an alliance, but the Forgelord couldn’t help but ask himself, what did the Orc’s gain, and why did they come to the Dwarves aid at all?
Shrugging off his doubts for the time being, Mylori laid down his hammer and strode towards the forges grand doors before hesitating for a moment, and turning back, grabbing his Great Ace from where he had hung it, before turning to leave again. As he walked down the chiselled corridors of the Broken Empires capital, Yutial, Mylori couldn’t help but smile. The city was a wonder of dwarven engineering and workmanship, a relic from when the Empire was glorious and triumphant. Reaching the Council Chamber, the two Hammerbearers that flanked the doors at all time bowed their heads to the Forgelord and pushed the ornate doors open for him.
Stepping through into the chamber itself, Mylori saw that the other two Forgelords, Tavirin Blackstone and Narrik Deadheart, had already arrived. Nodding his head towards Tavirin, Mylori and Narrik shared a cold look before the final Forgelord to arrive took his seat. Narrik, far more so than either of the other Forgelords, had embraced the Orcs and their black magic, changing his name and becoming fascinated in what the Warlocks were capable of. There were hushed whispers that the Dwarf was practicing necromancy himself, and Mylori always looked deep into his eyes when the two met, looking for any flecks of black.
Sitting across from the three Dwarves, the three Warlocks stood silently and still, their black eyes unblinking. Mylori looked at the three of them, and remembered when they had first come to the Dwarves, in the very same chamber they stood in now. It was Thro'Gan who spoke first, exposing the curved fangs that still put Mylori on edge, his hand subconsciously gripping the handle of his Great Axe.
“There is a presence in the East. The weak nations of the East will not stop it, we must strengthen our border and brace ourselves”
Mylori couldn’t contain his thoughts any longer, his voice booming around the chamber.
“How do you know of this new threat?”
To his surprise, it wasn’t Thro'Gan that answered him, instead Ronaz'Thunk slowly turned to face the Dwarf and replied, his voice rasping and ragged.
“It is darkness; we can sense the black magic that the leader of this army possesses. It is a level of necromancy that we have not seen in centuries. Whispers of it infect the very land, your people are too blind to see it.”
In an instant Mylori was on his feet, his Great Axe out and gripped in his hands as his eyes glared at the Warlock, only for another’s hand to grab his shoulder.
Turning, ready to fight, Mylori met eyes with Tavirin and his shoulders dropped, the Great Axe lowering in his hands as the other Forgelord spoke.
“Mylori, control your anger, lest it control you. We must trust the warlocks and prepare for the coming war”
Mylori hesitated for a moment, but he had known Tavirin for near all of his life, and knew that the older Dwarf had been a Forgelord before Mylori had even been born, and was far wiser than he. What he refused to admit to himself was that he doubted whether he could hope to win against just one Warlock, let alone all three together. Returning to his seat, Mylori sat in silence as the other members of the Councils made plans for the future of the Broken Empire.
Garrison
Province 51 -10 Heavy Infantry Units -15 Artillery Units -50 Mechanical Warriors Units -10 Mechanical Walkers Units -55 War-Magi Units
Province 48 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -10 War-Magi Units
Province 47 -5 Heavy Infantry Units -5 Artillery Units -5 Mechanical Warriors Units -5 Mechanical Walkers Units -10 War-Magi Units
Actions
“The Holy Land of Bulai cannot be allowed to remain if we are to use or full power to face this darkness. They detest our gifts, and will not hesitate to attempt to purge us in the name of their foolish faith. We must launch a pre-emptive strike against them, immediately”
Grugar'Tar had always seemed to Mylori to be the leader of the Warlocks, even if they refused to acknowledge this, so it was no surprise to him when it was him that suggested the Broken Empire go to war. And yet the Forgelord could not fault his logic. Recently the scouts sent across their border with the Holy Lands returned with rumbling of gathering armies and increased patrols. And so it was no surprise to him when all members of the council agreed to this course of action.
Mylori, his blood still running hot, agreed to lead the Dwarven armies, while Thro'Gan was chosen to accompany him, accompanied as always by his loyal Lichguard.
It would be an impressive force that marched across the border, and Mylori knew that the Holy Lands had no chance of repelling the invasion. He hoped that this pre-emptive strike would shatter the nation, and leave them easy to claim for the Broken Empire.
5 Heavy Infantry Units, 10 Artillery Units, 40 Mechanical Warriors Units, 5 Mechanical Walkers Units and 45 War-Magi Units move from Province 51 into Province 61
“What of our other neighbours?”
It was Tavirin who voiced what Mylori himself had been thinking. They were surrounded by nations to all sides, and had no contact with any of them. Mylori had led some scouting parties, defying basic principle so as to experience the rush that he so craved. And so Mylori spoke.
“It is essential that we win the support of the new Engelica if we are to defeat the Holy Lands, we cannot hope to defeat them both. Limgar to the North could also offer us aid if we can win their favour. And to the East, Bripiak and the iastuf republic are young nations, and could be potential allies or enemies. Only time will tell.”
After some debate amongst the Council, they reached an agreement.
Diplomats sent to New Engelica and Limgar with offers of fine Dwarven craftsmanship and trade, in return for their aid against the Holy Lands, or their agreement to not get involved in the conflict
Racial Traits -Shamanistic Ties -Gems in the Rough
Nation History Coming soon! I promise
MILITARY:
Army -20 Heavy Infantry Units (500 Orcs) -25 Artillery Units (25 Cannons) -60 Mechanical Warriors Units (600 Machines) -20 Mechanical Walkers Units (20 Machines) -75 War-Magi Units (75 Orcs)