Et tu, Nagash?
By TimmyMWD

Rötger led the two armored dwarfs down the rock-hewn hallway. Although dwarfs had always been a common sight in the city, it was the first time they had ever visited the home in which he worked. “I appreciate you humoring him, noble allies. His condition is rapidly deteriorating, but I am sure if he were still of sound mind he would thank you for honoring him.”

The elder dwarf nodded slightly, “He fought with honor alongside my kin. If there were any way to cure him of his taint, we would scour the world for it. This request bears no burden on us.”

Smiling, Rötger clasped his robed hands together and bowed low. “We men of the Reik are forever grateful for your kindness, dawi.” He turned and opened a massive wooden door, revealing a dimly lit room. “The Ar-Ulric will see you now.”

Stepping into the massive stone room, the two dwarfs could now see that various sized pieces of paper were hanging from every square inch of the room. Words in the tongue of the Reik, the dwarfs, and the Sarthailor elves appeared in every direction. At various points, large maps of the entire world covered smaller pieces of paper. The two dwarfs were quick to notice; however, that the commonality of all the artifacts was the continued display of the eight pointed star. The younger dwarf grabbed his elder by the shoulder and pointed to a large piece of paper where dwarf runes were intermixed with symbols of the ruinous powers. “Thane Alrikson, this man defiles the runes of our people!”

Sighing, the Thane replied. “Beardling, if it were any other man I would cut him down for what he has written. But you must understand, this one has given everything to help the dawi. Hey may be alive, but his mind has long left this world.” Alrikson scanned the room and saw a curled up man in the far back corner. “Come,” he grumbled, “Let us hear his gibberish and leave quickly.”

As the two mail clad dwarfs approached the man, the Thane gave his greeting. “Ar-Ulric! I have come far at your request to hear your wise and powerful words.”

At once, the man turned to look at them. Dementia radiated out of his eyes, which were almost entirely covered by wiry, thin, white hair. He had stopped shaving long ago, and a mighty beard now flowed from his face that rivaled a dwarfs. For a moment he just stared at the dwarfs while he clutched his knees. Then, he looked down into his chest and muttered to himself, “He is not the King. I requested the King of Zhufbar. Any less and my words will have no weight.”

The younger dwarf took a step back in caution. No explanation could have prepared him for the insanity that stood before him. Alrikson; however, was more prepared for their encounter. The Thane bowed low, lower than he would to any save a King, “Ar-Ulric, the King is away at battle. I have been dispatched in his stead, he sent me because we have met before. Do you remember me? Thane Alrikson. We fought side by side.”

The demented fury in the human’s eyes lifted slightly, and Ar-Ulric sat upright. “A Thane? Yes Alrikson, I remember you. Killed many that day, good warrior. Smart, too. Intelligent – you will make a good courier for my message.” He stood up – revealing the clawed tears and rips in his ceremonial robes. A quick glance at the human’s overly long fingernails showed that he made his own robe into tatters. The Ar-Ulric now began walking up and down the east wall of the room, his hands clasped on the small of his back.

He stammered as he spoke, but his delivery made the Thane think that he had been preparing this speech. “Our existence, Thane, is like a grain of sand floating through a river delta. There are many branches, paths, flows, that the grain can float down to reach the ocean and continue its journey.

“However, the grain of sand may never reach its destination. It may become trapped on a sandbar, or stuck in the root of a water plant. Do you follow me?” He waited eagerly for a response; his eyes lit up like a child on his birthday. His hands balled up into fists; however, when he saw the vacant and confused expression that was displayed on Thane Alrikson’s face.

Just as the Ar-Ulric was about to erupt in rage, the younger dwarf spoke up. “You’re talking about destiny. You’re saying there are –”

He was interrupted as the human shot up from his crouched, frustrated position and pointed in a broad smile at the young dwarf. “Yes, Beardling!” he cried. He ran over to a table and pulled out a scroll. He scanned it quickly, pointing to some strange illustration and then looking back up at the dwarfs. “Each route presents dangers that may stop the grain from reaching the ocean. Slight changes, slight deviations almost always cause vast changes upon the whole.”

****

His eyelids lifted, and the surrounding landscape poured into his field of vision. It was if he was seeing the world for the first time, and he loved the sensation. He looked down at his own body – not as muscular as the last, but leaner and in better shape. Nagash assumed the boy was a long distance runner in his adolescent years. He clenched his fists and tilted his head back to take in a deep breath of desert air. The physical sensations were unappreciated by mortals, he thought, yet they were the sensations he valued above all others.

All others; save one.

He closed his eyes and meditated. As if loosing his grip while standing in a rapidly moving river, he gave in to the winds of magic that surrounded him. The rush of energy was so strong his eyes opened in shock. In all his years of life, he had never felt the winds come to him so strongly. Was this host body special? A conduit of the winds? No. The explination was not that simple. Something had changed in the world to allow the winds to flow so much stronger. No body - not even his body - could be so strongly resonnant within the winds to produce such a powerful change. Searching for answers, he let his sensations leave his body and scan out to the lands in the north. Passing over the lands, he sensed something was different. Barriers, funnels, chambers that gathered and controlled the winds were now gone. Stretching his senses further, Nagash could no longer feel the prohibitive power of the waystones. He smiled a deep smile as he continued to scan the northlands.

A particular pang of energy caught his interests, and he found himself observing a battle at the city known as Reikdorf. With a bit of surprise, he saw Alith Anar retreating from the field of battle. Behind the Everchosen, he saw a berserk human crying out into the heavens. “Unberogen!”

Startled, Nagash found himself looking at the desert again, his body now lying in the sand after he fell back in surprise. It was not the primitive warcry that startled him, rather that he heard it not just with his ears but also in the deepest thoughts of his own mind. The young man’s cry had carried through the winds to be heard through the rest of the world. Anger filled the very core of Nagash’s being. Who was this human that could resonate through the winds? Nagash was the lord of all of men, not this upstart.

Or was he? Doubt crept into Nagash’s stomach. His forces had suffered greatly in the war, and despite his limitless power the armies of Nehekhara had barely moved into the lands of the north. Worse still, his holy capital had been defiled by the wretched, pointy eared creatures from the north. Although they were ultimately defeated, Nagash now had to suppress his urge to vomit every time he stepped foot in Khemri. “Men are flawed,” he found himself saying outloud. “They flee, they cower, they hide. They are not the creatures that I need to conquer this world.”

Once again, Nagash opened his host body up to the ever-growing winds of magic that flowed through him. Nagash knew there was one force in the world that would break all other armies, and that force bowed only to him.

*****

“No!” Ar-Ulric shouted. “You will not leave yet.” The dwarfs did not listen; they continued their march to the open doorway at the other end of the room.

Flailing wildly, the human tossed paper after crumpled paper into the air – frantically looking for something. Finally, from underneath a pile of refuse he drew up a long, gnarled wooden staff. “I am NOT done dawi!” Closing his eyes, he slammed the end of the staff into the floor. At the other end of the room, the large door shut itself with a great force.

The Thane and his escort turned once more to the Ar-Ulric. Their attention immediately became focused on the staff and the brightly glowing rune of Tzeentch. Quickly drawing their axes, they now began running towards the demented human.

The Ar-Ulric lifted his eyelids once more, but now a soft blue aura emanated from where his eyes once where. With a firm, “No” the dwarfs were now floating in the air, their axes tossed to the far side of the room. “I am not done delivering my message yet, master Thane.”

Thane Alrikson could only gulp, as the binding forces prevented him from looking to his frightened beardling escort. “Continue human, so I may leave your presence.”

Nodding in what appeared to be a spasm, Ar-Ulric hobbled over to a map on the wall and pointed frantically. “We live on the edge of chaos dwarf. Too much and the world is lost. Too little, and we cannot adapt and we die.”

The beardling spat at the ground, “There is no such thing as too little of the four powers, human.”

“Really?” Ar-Ulric replied. “Your runes harness the eight winds, master dwarf. Or have you forgotten? Sarthailor’s mages weave their spells from the eight winds too. We all use the winds of chaos in some way to fight the very forces that pledge their banners to the eight pointed star. Without those elements, we would not win the war.

“But too much and this world is lost. This perpetual balance is not guaranteed – it is offered. What appears to you as luck, chance, coincidence – these are but effects of the larger equation. When a current pulls us too close to chaos, a counter current forms.”

*****

In the center of the room, the large pit erupted in flame as the large logs finally succumbed to the fire fueled by the smaller pieces. Around the orange light stood many men, ornately decorated as would be expected of the nobles of Nehekhara. One of them stood nearest to the flame, holding out a weapon in both of his hands. All along the blade, arcs of energy leapt from point to point, dancing between and around the dark runes of the skaven race. “It was delivered this morning. The desert rats assure me it will not falter.”

Another noble scolded the remark, “Those rat creatures cannot begin to comprehend the power that is Nagash.”

A white clad third noble stepped forward to speak. “It matters not. Nagash loves only himself now, and has forgotten the glory of our nation. He will die by that blade because it is a fate he deserves.”

The nobles nodded in unison, their shadows bobbing as one before the flame.

The first noble spoke again, “Now all we need is a moment of opportunity.” Once again, the other princes and kings nodded as one. In their hearts, they were certain the days of Nagash were drawing to a close.

****

“When you marry, dwarfs, do you want your wife to lose all of her identity? To become completely obedient as if she were a drone?”

The beardling answered almost immediately, “Yes.”

Were it not for the magic that bound him into place, Thane Alrikson would have slapped his young companion. “No, Ar-Ulric. That is not love.”

Pointing wildly at the Thane, Ar-Ulric nodded in approval. “Right you are! If this world fell completely to the realm of chaos, it would not be a victory. That sense of a victory is left for the dim witted and the weak minded. No, if the grain of sand were to become trapped on a sand bar it would be failure. It would not be true chaos if there were not order within the madness.

“Just as the current is a force of chaos, so is the counter current. When an unwanted nail rises up, it is knocked back down.”

*****

Unless trained, no one could see the creeping expansion of energies. From Talienence to Warpfire Peak, the energies slowly expanded out and took shape. Nagash reached with his outstretched fingers to push the spell even further. Men may not satisfy his goals, but this army surely would. Slowly, he struggled to bring his arms together. A casual observer would have thought Nagash was attempting to crush an invisible melon, but one with the sight of the winds would see that he was wrestling with an immense source of power and energy. Finally, with a loud scream of joy his hands pressed together. Throughout most of the known world, a torrent of dark energy rushed over the land, knocking over small trees and shacks as it passed.

For a few moments, it appeared as if the spell was nothing more than a show of potential. Minutes passed and yet there were still no results. Nagash collapsed to the ground, almost all energy drained from him. For a long period of time, he was so weak he was unable to open his eyes. The weakness; however, was drowned out by the searing pain he felt throughout his host body. When he was finally able to open his eyes again, he saw that the fingers of his body were almost entirely burnt away by the spell. His clothes were singed and gone, and burn marks scorched his entire body. Nagash howled out in agony - he had not felt physical pain in a milennia. He coughed violently, attempting to focus his mind enough to leave this scarred body. He was unable, his mind too focused on getting his diaphragm to work properly. I will not die in this stupid body.

Slowly, he got his body under control. HIs thoughts became more focused, and his connection to the winds was slowly returning. Still too weak to leave this body, he opted to reach out to the nearby land and see what his spell had done. Throughout the area of the spell, once dead bodies began to stir. From graveyards, battlefields, sites of murder, once dead creatures rose once more. Their flesh gone, all that remained was their skeleton. Grabbing what weapons they used in their mortal life, they marched silently towards Nagash. Millions of bone feet drew closer to the sand dune on which Nagash stood.

A weak smile formed on Nagash’s lips. No one could stop him now, he thought. This new army would only grow with each passing battle. Soon, his banner would be raised from Khemri to Fauschlag and beyond.

His smile quickly disappeared as he felt a blade pierce his back. Assassin! Quickly, his mind again tried to leave his young host-body and return to the decrepit husk that resided in his Black Pyramid. He found himself still too weak to detach from the physical form. The wound ate at his very soul. He instantly knew it to be warpstone – the corrupting energies destroying what little magical defenses he had attempted to put up.

He turned and saw a young prince of Lahmia starring back at him. Nagash was unable to comprehend the site of this former servant smiling wickedly at him. “I am …. your master …. ruler of all that is man …,” he wheezed.

“You send our people to die in your name, not for Nehekhara. What have we gained from this war? Every gain was countered by your arrogance. No longer. The nobles of Nehekhara will see our nation to victory now, not you.”

Spitting up blood, Nagash now rolled on the ground in agony. He looked up at the prince, hate seething from his eyes. “I will curse you and your land some day. Mark my words.”

“Where you are going, Nagash, there will be no return.”

On the peak of the next sand dune over, three skaven chattered in delight. They watched with glee as Nagash’s body was carved into dozens of pieces. They watched as the prince took the hand of Nagash and walked away, leaving the rest of him to scatter to the wind. “Man-thing Nagash is dead, yes-yes,” one squealed in joy.

“Dead now, he is. Our plan worked it did. The mighty man-thing is dead, now WE shall inherit.”

“Yes-yes. We shall!”

*******

Pointing now to the lands of Nehekhara, Ar-Ulric flailed wildly. “The counter current has flowed through! Send word to Barak Varr that their troops can aid us in the north. Nagash troubles the southlands no longer.”

Thane Alrikson looked at the crazed human, confused. “Nagash is dead?”

In an instant, the Ar-Ulric’s appearance changed. He stood up straight, and the crazed look in his eyes left. “The chaotic edge is where we must make our lives, Thane. The counter current has corrected one deviation in the equation. One small shift has a massive effect. Nagash is dead. The counter current corrected one deviation in the equation. That is my message. Deliver it to the King.”

The two dwarfs were thrown to the floor; the magical forces that suspended them in the air had ceased. Looking up, they saw blood rush from the eyes and nose of the Ar-Ulric as he crumbled to the ground. Rushing over to his body, Thane Alrikson looked him over and shut his eyes in sadness. “Ar-Ulric is dead. I feel; however, that his news rings true.”

******

The rangers pulled their heads back as far as they would go. No matter how high they looked, the wall appeared to be ever higher. Word of Nagahs’s death came from the Reikland of all places, but its news was coincided by reports of untold numbers of undead marching through the countryside towards Nehekhara. When a force from Barak Varr was dispatched to investigate, their journey was stopped here, at this point.

The wall was made out of bone. Millions … billions of bones. Scouts found two massive bone gateways along the length of the wall that stretched from the coast near Barak Varr to the World’s Edge Mountains. Humans on Pegasi had flown up to report that thousands of skeletons patrolled the top of the wall, vigilant of any who would attempt to cross it.

Ships sent out to the coasts reported a similar sight. Eternal guardians patrolled the coastline for any threat. Some scout ships reported the skeletons fighting forces of skaven, but this had yet to be confirmed by any credible source.

“What do you make of it?” one ranger inquired.

Another leaned out from their formation to look at the dwarf. Between puffs from his pipe, he growled his answer. “It means they don’t want visitors lad, and I’m quite content to leave them be. Some say millions of undead were raised by those humans. If they wasted all them skeletons on a bloody wall, I doubt they’re going to be attacking us any time soon.”

“What scares me is we have no way of knowing. Some day, they may pour through this wall.”

“Stuff it beardling. Nagash is dead and that’s all I care about. We’ve got enough trouble to the north to worry about. Only a gutless human would want to stand at this wall and worry all day. I’d rather drink a pint up in the Reik in between killing some daemons personally.” He paused and looked around at the other rangers, “Anyone coming?” The other dawi raised their axes in agreement, and they turned north towards Barak Varr.

On the other side of the wall, the people of Nehekhara were in celebration. Nagash was dead, and their lands would be forever defended by an innumerable legion of undead. Clearly, the gods had blessed them all with this turn of events. Every citizen of Nehekhara knew that some day, when they were ready, the legions of their nation would march forth and would spread their banner to the far corners of the world.