Chapter 2. Plans.
The Order of Azyr had gathered all its manpower to meet the Cult of Sigmar's upper echelons.
Which was to mean that Toll and Callis plus a couple of witch hunters met with Lector Calva in his private studio. The room, located in the heart of the ancient Libraria Vurmia, was as secure and private as it could be.
Calva was a severe looking man, his face almost carved from pinkish stone and his head shaven clean. His hard brown eyes glared down at Armand Callis. The former guard was a Reclaimed, a native of Ghur that had, or his family had, emigrated to the cities that Sigmar's army founded after the Realmgate Wars. Calva was a very conservative man, interpreting that only Azyrite stock was trustworthy, pure. Only they had basked into the light of the God King. Armand's ancestry, for all the man knew, could have worshipped wantonly the dark gods.
Hanniver took off his had, used it as an impromptu fan, before speaking.
"The Grundstokk scouts don't lie: we are nowhere close to our original location, these aren't the Amber Steppes."
For a second an almost incredulous silence sunk in. Almost.
"An entire city, teleported without any of the wards functioning," muttered Talorcan. "What do you think, Esselt?"
Talorcan was a fairly stout and rugged man, with plenty of battle scars marring his face, plenty of which masked by his generous black beard. Clad in rich blue and golden trimmed robes he clashed greatly with the plate armor his lover Esselt wore. The statuesque witch hunter had a fair complexion, with a bountiful golden mane encircled by a silvery diadem shaped like two lightning bolts. Like her companion, she had her fair share of battlemarks.
"Judging by the description of those present in the plaza he seemed to hold some sort of Agloraxi artifact, now those did have plenty of magical toys," she grumbled. "Unfortunately, we cannot do much now without the culprit, can't we? Specially not when we have new neighbors"
The others nodded grimly. Next to the mighty Shu'Gohl was a horde of nomads, a vagrant host of staggering proportions and clearly ill-intent, as the reports regarding the skirmishes the Vurm-Tai tribes, the local nomads that circled around the worm, were having with them. Something was massively off.
Someone knocked the door and entered without. A relatively young woman, of pale white skin and raven wing short hair. Clad in the uniform of the local cult of Sigmar, she made a curt bow that bordered in impoliteness.
"Initiate Nyoka," hissed Calva. "State your reason to intrude."
Hanniver pretty much doubted she was 'just' an initiate, not with the gravitas she carried herself with.
"Calva, most respected members of the Order, your presence is required in the Stormcrown. A meeting has been convened," she said with thinly veiled bluntness.
"By whom?" Asked Calva.
"The stormcasts."
=== 0 ===
Lord Ordinator Kragan Stonehide, member of the Astral Templars, stared at the massive clouds that formed the Sha'gohl, the stormcrown. Almost permanently roaring thunder and lightning, these never abandoned the upper area of Shu'Gohl, where the realmgate of the city stood.
Which didn't work. It wasn't that something went awry in the travel. Just flat out didn't work.
Grumbling, he tried to keep his visions at bay, caressing his mutton chops. Ordinators were as much engineers as they were prophets.
He looked down at the great table. Within the temple dedicated to the God-King he had gathered the city's rulers, military commanders, and religious representatives. Azyrites and Reclaimed. Sigmarites, Hyshites, worshippers of Alarielle and even Nagashites. All gathered, all intent to solve the issue.
They had lost contact with Excelsis. They were out of the known net of cities, out in the wilderness, he explained.
The first to speak was an elderly man, with the most benign visage one could imagine. The living embodiment of kindness one could say.
"We could all sacrifice ourselves!" commented the Nagashite representative. "That way we will all be in the Black Priest's embrace and free our coils from these mundane troubles!"
The man made the brazen statement with innocent glee. Everyone else just went on to give him a murderous glare. That shut him and made him squirm.
"Well, as much as I would love to try mass suicide again, I think we can all agree it's counter productive," said the Lord Ordinator."
"We cannot stand still," said a captain of the city's Free Guild. "Shu'gohl can feed us, but we are not self-sufficient for armaments. We need timber and gunpowder. We need steel and other materials. We need to secure our resources!"
A roar of agreements thundered across the temple. What followed after was the drawing of the mid-to-long term plan, starting with dealing with the massive tide of human bodies that camped by the great worm's side.
"You look disquieted. What did you see in your visions," asked Cathian, the Lord Relictor.
Kragan's voice was dry and cutting.
"Trouble."
=== 0 ===
Ortam Vermyre climbed down the back of the great worm with the help of his sorcerous might. Once down, a murder of crows flew towards him, landing close by.
The flock of birds cawed in an arrhythmic symphony that wavered. Soon the chorus took a more definite and unified tone. The voice of Tzeentch All-Mighty.
"The realmsphere's wards have been breached, finely done," Ortam bowed at the recognition of his work. "Undo the doom, travel east, north, south and west! Undo the doom within shadows of ice and fire!"
What followed next was a borderline rambling of riddles and contradictory statements. The changer of ways rarely bestowed his attention and when he did so, the fortunate soul ought to prove worthy of such.
Ortam wasn't found wanting. His destiny was clear, he thought as he assumed his position in straightening the skeins of fate.
The murder of crows dissipated, melting into a pitch black puddle of ichor. All suffered this fate bar one: a white crow. Ortam took the cue and using his magics he waved a doll made out of magic and the impure ichor that had once been life. Shaping and twisting with sickening cracks, the hunched shape of a bald and blind elder soon came into existence.
"Do travel west, to the final reach of the world," commanded the warlock.
The elder made a crooked smile.
"And then?"
"Oh, I just want you to be a regular advisor," he noted idly. "Meanwhile I need to travel east… to Asshai by the shadow."