The Old World
The ragtag army of Tomb Kings marched through the peaks surrounding Red Cloud Mountain. The previously dormant volcano now spewed lava and debris skywards in a great cloud as tremors shook the surrounding land. But this was just one sign that their world was dying, the sparse clumps of flora they encountered were withered and sickly, any creatures they found had been driven to animalistic fury, but the most obvious was right above them.
"Sakhmet looms large today," mused Rehu, his neck tilted skywards. The liche priest was referring to the green chaos moon, which was normally only visible after dark.
"It seems that she's finally thrown off the shackles of the night," replied Hassep, his bony fingers wrapping protectively around a canopic jar tied to his waist. "Even during the day she taints the light of Ptra."
Rehu nodded in agreement, the normally pure light of the day had a definite green tint. He was currently floating on a magical dias next to Hassep's Necrosphinx, it allowed him to float quickly over the column of soldiers as he worked with the mortuary cult to keep them on the move.
"I'm sorry about your son," replied the undead priest, his gaze falling to the jar at the kings hip. "If there was more to work with, perhaps I could have revived him."
"It matters not," replied Hassep, sharply. "His soul was forfeit to Nagash the moment he fell to his servants, whatever sorcery you used to bring back the rest, cannot bring him to me."
Hassep was, understandably, still mourning his child, and held some animosity to the cult for failing to bring him back. Rehu wisely decided he'd rather not cause an incident while they were on the march and dropped back.
Since leaving Nehekhara, the army had been making good time to the portal site, this was largely due to the tireless nature of the undead, but also because Usur had his own soldiers clear the route some time ago, keeping it maintained with a few skeletal thralls. These would joint the rear of the column as they were encountered and keep watch for pursuers.
The only real obstacle to their progress were the gigantic Hierotitans and the Bone Giant. While a great deterrent, or solution, for any wandering creatures, they were difficult to navigate through the narrow passes. This cost them valuable time, and Usur did not wish to give the followers of Nagash any chance of finding them.
Unfortunately, they had not been as stealthy as he had hoped.
Far above the army, the speck which had been following them since Nehekhara circled in the wind, slowly spiralling down until an observer could have identified it as a ragged, black crow. The bird perched on a rock just out of sight of the army, peeking it’s beady black eyes out to observe the Nehekaharans before once more taking wing.
Soaring high above the mountains, the bird glided down the peaks towards its destination, a second army. One that was shadowing the unsuspecting Tomb Kings, and served a darker master.
As the crow descended, the dark mass of bodies became discernable shapes, lurching zombies, skeletal warriors in pitted, gothic plate, pale knights in blood red armour. As it neared, the screeching of banshees, ghouls and crypt horrors echoed skyward, while the bellows of larger creatures, chained and whipped by their handlers, created a cacophony of noise that contrasted with the silence of the undead infantry.
Swooping low, the crow passed over groups of necromancers, vampire counts and an endless number of thralls that worked to keep the undead army moving, eventually reaching the head of the column, where an elaborate palanquin, crafted from bones and moved by skeletal feet, marched onwards.
The thick, purple drapes that protected it’s interior were briefly parted by an armoured limb, which the crow set down upon. It was quickly drawn inside, where the bird hopped up to the shoulder of it’s master, appearing to whisper something into his pointed ear.
The interior of the palanquin was lavish, the crows vampiric master sat upon a raised throne of dark wood at one end, while expensive carpets lined the floors and exotic silks hung from the nubile bodies of several vampiric maidens, who reclined upon lavish couches and cushions, each drinking from goblets filled from a cauldron of bubbling blood.
"Fools," laughed the Vampire Count, reclining in his seat. “They have no idea that we are even here.”
WIlling the bird back to his arm, the vampire gently stroked it’s feathered neck.
“Return to your post my pet, make sure we stay on course.”
The crow gave an affirmative ‘caw’, before the vampire thrust his arm back through the drapes, allowing the bird to take flight once again.
"Brother," whined an ethereal voice.
The vampire looked down to his left, where an ethereal maiden, wrapped in a tattered white dress, reclined on a expensive chez. The garment clung to what remained of her body and was marred by a large dark stain that ran down her torso, the remains of the sword thrust which killed her.
"Jason," crooned the Banshee. "Tell me, where is my beloved Warsmith? When will my dearest Keagan be allowed to hold me once more?"
Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the vampire, Jason, rose from his seat. He wore his full battle armour, pointed plates of cold steel, forged under the chaos moon and imbued with necromantic power. It projected the vampires’ menacing aura everywhere he went and although it had a helmet, Jason preferred to go without, as his pale, predatory features instilled plenty of fear in his opponents.
"Laura, I will speak to our brother, but you must kep your incesteous urges under control until after we have buried these Nehekharans. I'd rather you not throw yourself into sunlight just because you wanted the arms of your lover."
Laura swooned dramatically.
"My own kin would deny me the feel of my lovers flesh, how cruel."
"I'm surprised either of you can feel anything at all,” retorted Jason. “You don't have enough flesh between you."
Jason, Laura and Keagan, were siblings who had dabbled in the necromantic arts for many years. Jason had courted a vampire for her power, and when he had proven himself and been granted the blood kiss, killed his mentor and seized her coven for himself.
While he did that, Laura had been using her beauty, wiles, and charm, to manipulate lords, ladies, rulers and commoners alike, her abilities growing as she delved into books of dark magic. It had been Jason's intention to award her and Keagan the blood kiss, however, they were discovered by an irksome Knight from Bretonnia.
The knight killed Keagan and Laura before Jason had been able to dispatch him, violently. He had then used his powers to resurrect the pair, binding their souls to what remained of their bodies.
Parting the thick curtains of the palanquin, causing the other vampires to hiss and shy away from the light, Jason took a moment to admire the swathe of undead that trailed behind the palanquin before turning to the Wright that rode beside it on skeletal steed.
In life Keagan was a deadly warrior, but had always been limited by his body. Reborn as a Wright, his physical limitations were gone and when he wasn't consumed by a lust for battle, he commanded his armies with great skill and tactical acumen, even leading his own regiment of Grave Guard, known as 'The Scythe'.
It was this skill that caught the attention of Nagash, and it is said he was crowned Warsmith by the Arch Necromancers favoured servant, Arkhan the Black. Of course that last part was just a rumour, but he had done nothing to disprove it.
"What is it my brother?" hissed Keagan, turning his fleshless skull to face the vampire, his body clad in the same black plate as his sibling.
"Is that my dearest love?" whined Laura's voice. "Can he not come and save me from this boredom?"
"I am here my sweet," replied the Wright, longingly. "I yearn for the time we can hold each other once more."
Jason rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Our quarry are just ahead, speed the march but try to keep out of sight, we want to trap them in this place."
"Why not simply slaughter them on these roads?” growled the Wright.
"If you recall,” retorted the vampire. “We wouldn't need to trap them if you hadn't been distracted by those orcs."
"It was quite the distraction, wasn't it?" replied Keagan, as what sounded like a laugh rattled his bones. "Such slaughter, the artistry of death my Scythe can do is so exquisite."
"Exquisite as it was," replied Jason, curtly. "It cost us most of our thralls and a third of our heavy troops. Furthermore, your 'Scythe', is down to half its number, temper your bloodlust brother, otherwise there will be consequences."
He turned to re-enter the palanquin.
"It is a shame," mused Keagan, causing the vampire to pause. "These Tomb Kings never bleed when they are cut."
"They might not bleed brother,” returned Jason. “But that won't stop them from screaming.”
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Unaware of the vampiric army, the Tomb Kings continued to their destination at the edge of the Mountains of Mourn. As the army slowed to a halt, Phar rode his chariot to the head of the column to see what caused them to stop.
"A cave?!" he exclaimed.
"Yes, a cave," replied Usur, sarcastically. His chariot had been at the head of the army. "With observation like that I wonder why Numas fell in the first place."
Ignoring the jibe, for now, Phar stared at the dark hole that loomed before the army. It was large enough for a crouched Necroshinx to pass through, which sadly meant the Hierotitans and Bone Giant would have to be dismantled, but it was wide enough for them to form effective ranks when compared with the mountain paths they had been traversing.
Rehu's dias descended and he shuffled forwards. Muttering an incantation, he caused two skeletons to erupt from piles of rock either side of the entrance. Approaching them, he held a hushed conversation before returning to the column.
"The sentries report no activity, nothing has been this way in the centuries since we found this place."
"Excellent," replied Usur. "I see no reason to wait, lets get inside. The portal should be nearly ready by now."
Spurring his chariot to motion, Usur lead the bulk of the infantry into the tunnel, several units would remain to protect the Necrotects as they dismantled the titans, then they would join them at the portal site.
Phar felt uneasy, the tight tunnels worked against the typical Nehekarhan style of warfare, namely chariot and cavalry sweeps. While he had confidence in their infantry, he was also aware that, despite their skill, they were still just brittle bones and could be overwhelmed in such an environment.
Looking up at the rock walls, the former ruler of Numas observed the tunnels showed evidence of being widened rather than dug. Furthermore, here and there he saw the remains of dwarven architecture, but there was nothing from the outside to indicate this had been purposefully built. Torches of balefire rested in decaying wall sconces as they passed through several checkpoints, each manned by soldiers of the Black Legion.
After what felt like an eternity, the army eventually emerged into a vast cavern and Phar finally got a look at the portal.
The parchment had not done the object justice. The titanic mirror loomed over them like the ancient monoliths of their home, easily reaching the height of a pyramid. It stood in the centre of a ruined shrine in the middle of the cavern, the sleek stonework clearly elven in design. As he studied the gigantic mirror further, Phar noted that it's faded lavender frame was lined with glowing syllables from that strange language on the scroll. A hole in the top of the cavern allowed sunlight to catch a softly glowing gem that was set at the frames peak. Several braziers were set at geometric points around it, these burned with a sickly green flame, and Phar saw a servant tip a basket of glowing green rocks onto one.
“Warpstone!” he hissed.
"I know, marvelous, isn't it?"
Phar jumped, Rehu had managed to sneak up beside him. Recovering quickly, he jabbed a bony finger at the braziers.
"What are they doing?" he demanded.
"As best we can tell,” replied the Liche Priest. “This portal was supposed to have been gradually powered by the winds of magic over several days, but we don't have the time to wait. Warpstone will allow it to be ready in mere hours. Don't worry, it's not going to send you to some hellish nightmare realm...or at least, it shouldn't.
The Liche Priest shuffled off towards the portal, leaving Phar unconvinced by his reassurance.
“Prepare your men for the journey, we are short on time and everything must be ready before the moon rises. By tomorrow, we shall all be beyond the reach of Nagash."
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The Crystal Empire
Sombra growled at the lack of progress, he had planned to be inside the shield in mere hours, but it seemed that fate was against him, because as the shield was primed to shatter, a wave of magical power washed over the barrier, purging the corruption.
He knew Princess Cadance was the one responsible, she had kept him out of the Crystal Empire when it first returned to Equestria, but in the end she had been worn down by his power. However this time was different, she wasn’t protecting the city herself, she was augmenting the Crystal Hearts power.
The Dark Unicorn was standing at the edge of his forces, a scowl twisting his features. Every time the shield was close to breaking, that blasted alicorn would purge it of his dark magic. It had taken three days for him to engineer a solution, giving Shining Armour’s forces a chance to dig in, ensuring any battle would no longer be the swift slaughter he had been hoping for.
The dark king turned, his cloak fluttering in the ever present blizzard. Trotting to a group of Golems that stood sentry around a blood red tent, he pushed aside the entry flap and stormed inside.
The interior was dominated by a large black cauldron set over a fire, it’s contents bubbling rapidly. The back wall had an old oak table set against it, the surface covered in potion bottles and raw ingredients. Taking one, he pulled the stopper and poured the contents into the cauldron, watching the green liquid shift through several dark colours until it resembled a star filled sky.
"Alicorn you may be," he muttered, stirring the mixture. "You are still mortal, and I know far more about the Crystal Heart than you!"
Thick, black smoke spilled from the cauldron as he chanted ancient words of power, the miasma flowing out from the tent. Returning to his army, Sombra watched in glee as smoke and shadow fused with two new golems, each as large as the Crystal Palace. He cackled as they slowly marched to the shields edge and slammed their fists down on the barrier with a loud crack.
Inside the shield, Princess Cadance attempted another spell, but instead screamed in agony as her magic was overwhelmed, and she toppled into her husbands hooves.
"Cadence?" he asked, nervously.
"Ma...Magical feedback." she replied, weakly. “The shield rejected my power, he’s tainted it somehow.”
Looking up at the two new titans, their faces carved into leering likenesses of the dark unicorn, Shining felt cold dread grip his heart.
"Sir," said Diamond Edge, approaching the royal pair. "I don't think we can win this."
"Not alone we can't," replied the unicorn. "Who's our fastest flyer?"
"That would be Flash Sentry, Sir."
"Go and find him, then get me as many volunteers as you can."
"Of course," replied the Crystal Pony, before turning on his hooves and leaving.
Cadence looked into her husbands eyes as he helped her up, recognising a steely determination.
"You have a plan,” she said.
"Yes,” he replied. “With luck, it will end this before it escalates further."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we have to hope Flash is as fast as Diamond says he is."