When the Blood Queen left her Silver Pinnacle, the world trembled under her shadow once again.
For centuries, Neferata had been content as a reclusive queen, indulging in luxuries atop her mountain. She could go hundreds of years without descending, ruling over her realm with ease.
However, this did not mean Neferata was ignorant of the outside world. Quite the opposite. Every few years, she would choose young, beautiful girls from the Old World and initiate them into the Lahmian Sisterhood through the Blood Kiss. These newborn vampires would infiltrate human society, using cunning schemes to manipulate those around them. No one knew just how many of the aristocratic women in the Empire or Tilea were actually undead. Each Lahmian vampire, devoted to a life of luxury, flaunted their decadent lifestyle without restraint. After millennia of manipulation and influence, Neferata had a terrifying grip on the world, especially within the Empire and Tilea. Through her Sisterhood, she could even indirectly influence imperial armies.
Neferata did not enjoy combat. She believed such matters were beneath her and should be handled by her servants.
No one knew why the Blood Queen and her undead army from Silver Pinnacle had arrived here, but her presence was unmistakable. Alongside her, the Lahmian Sisterhood's chief lieutenant—a powerful Vampire Lord and one of Neferata's earliest creations, Aemanthe, the Steward of the Lahmian Sisterhood—stood at her side, signifying her commitment to this battle.
Marching alongside Neferata were two elite forces: the legendary Lahmian Guard and the Grave Wardens of Lahmia. The former, once the royal guards of ancient Lahmia, had been bound to Neferata's will even in death. Clad in golden and blue armor, their decayed bodies pulsed with ancient magic. Over time, these warriors had only grown stronger.
The Grave Wardens were comprised of male nobles who had once been entranced by the beauty of Neferata and her Sisterhood. These men had been knights of the Empire, champions of Bretonnia, duelists from Estalia, mercenary captains from Tilea, and even warriors from distant Cathay and Nippon. In life, they had been heroes, commanders, or champions. Now, they were little more than undead puppets, bound to serve Neferata eternally.
Seated upon her Witch Throne, Neferata was served by handmaidens who brought her fresh virgin blood to drink. Red light bathed the hall, and the eerie blare of twisted horns heralded the arrival of the undead forces from Silver Pinnacle.
First to charge were the Crypt Horrors and Crypt Ghouls—creatures that Neferata despised, but tolerated for their usefulness. Drawn to her by her magic, these monstrosities lived in the depths of Silver Pinnacle. With their rotting claws, they tore into the green tide and Skaven alike, feasting on bones and flesh alike.
Following them came the massive wave of the undead horde. Skeleton warriors, led by the elite Lahmian Guard, marched forward, shredding everything in their path. The witches of the Lahmian Sisterhood cast dark, ancient necromantic spells, their crimson energy blasting holes through the green and furred ranks of their enemies.
They advanced relentlessly toward Valaya's Gate.
The greenskin army began to collapse under the assault. The goblins, always prone to fear, broke before the undead even reached them. Despite Skarsnik's furious attempts to rally them, his goblins were shattered. The warlord quickly signaled his Black Orcs and elite units to take the lead.
Black Orcs and orc boys tried desperately to hold back Neferata's relentless advance. They pushed forward to contain the undead, but the unyielding tide of skeletons and Grave Wardens pressed on. Eventually, even the mightiest greenskins were pushed back, slaughtered by the Lahmian Guard, their corpses littering the battlefield. Neferata cast a disdainful glance at Skarsnik's command banner, only to realize that the Eight Peaks warlord had already fled!
Skarsnik and his Black Orcs, along with his personal guards—the Eight Peaks Fanatics—were retreating in a chaotic but calculated fashion. As Neferata considered her next move, her Crypt Horrors and Ghouls mindlessly pursued the retreating greenskins straight into the Skaven ranks!
So, you intend to bait me into fighting the Skaven, Neferata thought, her red eyes flashing with insight.
No matter. I'll destroy them all—humans, dwarfs, and Skaven alike!
As expected, the Skaven could not withstand the undead onslaught. Their slaves and Clanrats crumbled under the pressure. Poisoned wind globadiers and warpfire throwers tried desperately to halt the undead with their lethal fumes, but the dead did not need to breathe. Even the powerful Stormvermin, armed with warpstone-powered machine guns and flamethrowers, found their firepower ineffective against the tireless undead.
Queek Headtaker, the fearsome Warlord of Clan Mors, let out a frustrated roar. He wasn't one to retreat quickly like Skarsnik. He ordered his war machines to target the undead queen directly, aiming his warpfire projectors at her imposing throne.
At that moment, however, a Terrorgheist descended from the ceiling of the great hall. The undead monster crashed into the Skaven lines, wreaking havoc. Strigoi Ghoul King Uruk, mounted atop the massive beast, screeched in fury, "My Strigoi Empire lives on!"
Panicked Skaven engineers, screaming in terror, hastily adjusted their aim, firing their war machines at the Terrorgheist. However, the warp-lightning cannons only managed to singe its wings before the monstrous creature crashed into the Skaven artillery, smashing several cannons and flattening dozens of rats in a single swoop. As the dust settled, Uruk declared triumphantly, "The world still belongs to the Strigoi Empire! Who says we are doomed?"
"Strigoi filth, sick in the head! Sick in the head!" Queek muttered angrily. He contemplated ordering an all-out assault, but a warning hiss echoed in his mind.
"Retreat!" After a few tense moments, Queek reluctantly decided to withdraw. He led his elite bodyguard, the Crimson Hunters, in a slow retreat through the tunnels. Inevitably, they encountered the Lahmian Guard. The elite Stormvermin stood firm, determined to fight alongside their warlord until the end. In the ensuing battle, Neferata herself raised an eyebrow at the Crimson Hunters' formidable combat skills.
Steel clashed with steel as the Lahmian Guard's blades sliced through the Stormvermin's armor. Likewise, the Stormvermin's halberds cleaved through the undead warriors' ancient armor. In the midst of the chaos, Queek found himself face-to-face with the leader of the Lahmian Guard—a Tomb Prince clad in royal armor from the Lahmian court, crowned in gold and blue.
The duel was swift. Queek darted forward, deftly avoiding the prince's sword swings. Within seconds, the Headtaker drove his Dwarf-Slayer blade through the prince's chest and stabbed his second blade through his eye socket, beheading him in one fluid motion. Triumphantly, Queek held the severed head aloft, roaring his victory to the battlefield.
The fall of their leader momentarily slowed the Lahmian Guard's movements. Seizing the opportunity, Queek and his forces made their escape from the great hall.
Neferata shrieked in fury. It was only then that she realized the remnants of the expeditionary army had gathered before Valaya's Gate, forming a desperate defensive line. Behind them, the gate was nearly fully opened, with the Dwarf Rune Priest, Sluud Honest, singing a sacred hymn of the runes.
"They must not escape!" Neferata commanded, her voice sharp as she signaled her entire army to advance.
"For the Lady! For Bretonnia!"
"For Belgar! For Karak Eight Peaks! For Grungni and Valaya!"
Despite their exhaustion, the expeditionary forces found a final burst of courage. The soldiers, weary from hours of fighting, formed ranks. Many peasant soldiers could barely stand, while even the most seasoned knights panted with exhaustion. Two members of the Red Dragon Brotherhood had fallen in battle, and the remaining Grail Knights huddled together for one final stand.
The archers, crossbowmen, and gunners had exhausted their ammunition, and the artillery had fallen silent, save for a few remaining rounds for the magical crystal cannon. Now, they drew their swords, daggers, and makeshift weapons, prepared to face the undead army in hand-to-hand combat. Casualties were heavy as they braced for the final attack.
Veronica, now drained of magic, drew her flaming sword and joined the melee alongside the Witch Sisters. Though only a novice in swordplay compared to her magical prowess, Veronica fought bravely. Scarlet, standing behind her, used her staff as a bludgeon, swinging it with desperate energy.
Katherine, whose beloved robes were now tattered and filthy, could barely hold up her weakening flame sword. Pushed back by the relentless advance of the skeletal warriors, she nearly collapsed. Calard rushed to her side, slaying several skeletons with his sword, and shielded her. "Katherine! Fall back!"
"No!" she stubbornly refused.
"My king! The First Infantry Regiment is completely wiped out!"
"My king! The Bastonne Longbow Regiment has broken!"
"My king!
The knights of Bordeleaux are nearly all dead!"
"My king! Count Dulin and his Kismak Guard are all dead!"
As Ryan stood before Valaya's Gate, bad news continued to arrive one after another. Out of ammunition, exhausted, and with many soldiers unable to continue, the expeditionary army seemed on the verge of collapse.
Ryan had lost count of how many times he had swung his warhammer, Mjolnir, sending clouds of bone fragments into the air. Despite their relative weakness, the sheer number of undead was overwhelming, and the expedition seemed doomed.
"My king, Estel says the rangers are out of arrows. What are your orders?" another blood-soaked squire arrived with a message.
"They still have their curved blades!" Ryan shouted back, his frustration mounting as his psychic abilities, too, were nearly depleted. His head throbbed painfully, and his voice took on a note of desperation. "Are their blades just for show? Send them to aid Haltharf Goldseeker immediately!"
"Yes!" The Wood Elves, now armed with curved swords, charged into battle alongside Haltharf Goldseeker, bolstering the Dwarf's defenses. Seeing the Wood Elves come to their aid, Haltharf swore in frustration. "Who asked for these pointy-eared fools? If we survive this, I'll make sure the king records this in the Great Book of Grudges!"
As the battle raged on, Belgar stood silent and resolute. The King of Karak Eight Peaks was exhausted, but unwavering. He prepared to swing the Hammer of Angrund once more when suddenly, the master runes of Valaya's Gate erupted in blinding light.
A radiant blue glow flooded the hall.
Every Dwarf present felt the blessing of Valaya, the Mother Goddess. Her divine power flowed into them, healing their wounds, restoring their strength, and renewing their spirits. Even those on the brink of death found new life. Her soft, motherly voice urged them not to give up.
"Praise Valaya!" Belgar raised his hammer high, rallying his warriors. "Dwarfs, raise your weapons!"
"AAAAHHHHH!" The Dwarfs let out a thunderous roar, their spirits reinvigorated.
Watching from her throne, Neferata seethed with rage. She realized that her Lahmian Sisterhood, like herself, was reluctant to engage directly in the battle, preferring to rely on their skeletal thralls. But now, the Blood Queen had had enough.
"All Lahmian vampires, forward!" she screeched.
They would have to personally rip the dwarfs and humans apart.
As the Lahmian vampires entered the fray, the tide of battle shifted once again. Their movements were too fast to track, leaving little more than afterimages as they descended on their enemies, tearing through shields and armor. Their claws found unprotected throats, and swords plunged into unguarded faces.
Within minutes, the expedition's frontline had been devastated, their dead littering the battlefield. Even the most disciplined knights and soldiers were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer speed and power of the Lahmian vampires. Only the Grail Knights were able to face the vampires directly, but even they were beginning to falter after hours of relentless combat.
The defense lines were broken again and again, with some breaches reaching dangerously close to Valaya's Gate. Wounded soldiers charged into the gaps, desperately trying to hold back the vampire onslaught. The Wood Elves, wielding their curved blades, fought in desperate close combat, many falling to the Lahmian vampires' fangs and blades.
The situation seemed hopeless. Even the Dwarfs could no longer hold their ground against the vampires. Many of the longbeards fell, their heads torn from their bodies by the ruthless Lahmian vampires. Their corpses joined the growing pile before Valaya's Gate.
Neferata, atop her Terrorgheist, led a charge toward the Dwarven defenses. The Blood Queen's dagger pointed directly at Belgar, who stood atop his Oathstone. But before she could strike, the pained screams of her minions caught her attention. Turning, she saw Ryan Macardo standing amidst the battlefield, holding two severed vampire heads in one hand and impaling another Lahmian vampire on his blade Vengeance.
The sight enraged Neferata. The severed heads were of her Kislevite twin vampires, and the impaled figure was none other than Ruyi, the once-favored consort of the Dragon Emperor in Cathay.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!" Neferata screamed, turning her mount to face Ryan. Her Terrorgheist and his Gryphon Impris clashed in the skies above, locked in a vicious battle.
Steel rang against steel as Neferata's dagger met Ryan's flaming sword. The Blood Queen's speed was blinding. In the span of a second, she tested Ryan's defenses with seven rapid strikes, leaving claw marks on his Grey Knight power armor.
But Ryan was no stranger to battle. The flames of Vengeance kept Neferata at bay, and his warhammer struck back with brutal force, ripping through the Blood Queen's ornate gown and cutting into her flesh.
"So this is how you honor our agreement, Neferata?" Ryan growled, his burning sword driving her back.
"The times have changed, human! I will claim the secrets of Valaya's Gate and the treasures within!" Neferata hissed, blood dripping from her mouth. "I told you that the next time we meet, it would be as enemies!"
"Very well!" Ryan's blade crackled with lightning as he slashed at her once more. The Blood Queen danced around his attacks, her dagger weaving through the air as she hissed in pleasure. "I have someone I want you to meet!"
Suddenly, a dark red light flashed behind Ryan. He spun around just in time to block a massive black axe with his warhammer.
Clang! The two weapons collided, sending a thunderous shockwave through the battlefield.
There, standing before Ryan, was the Chaos Champion, Chosen of the Four Gods, Ghor the Unstoppable.
"How about this old friend, Ryan Macardo?" Neferata sneered, her voice dripping with cruelty. "Don't worry. Soon enough, you'll join us, and become the next Ghor."
Ryan's brow furrowed. He had no time to ponder why Ghor, who he had once defeated, was now serving Neferata.
All he knew was that he was now up against two formidable foes.
The Champion of the Four Gods, the Undying King, Ghor.
And the Blood Queen, the progenitor of the Lahmian vampires, Neferata.
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