War Council

The Realmgate stuttered as arcane energies ripped into existence, eldritch storms choked the skies as screams and promises filled the winds of Shyish. The Land of the Dead shifted uneasily as the winds began to pick up their tempo, speeding through skeleton blocked chasms and zombie infested forests. No Messenger or Herald was needed to warn the God of the Dead of this coming.

"The Realmgate links to the Realm of Chaos," confirmed Arkhan, the Right Hand of Nagash, as the skeletal king simply sat. Nagash had expected multiple conflicts with the forces of Chaos since he had freed his people from the Cage of Bones. This was nothing new or surprising.

The Cabal of Kings, Necromancers and Vampires stared across, the gate reaching the right point to allow transporting armies to pass. Yet, Nagash merely sat in his throne, his cheek resting against his palm as the ghost-fires in his eyes flickered. The silence was broken soon enough.

"It is clearly Archaon playing his hand and attempting another one of his childish crusades." The Vampiress spoke with hatred, her words laced with poison and despise. Arkhan shook his head silently.
"No. If it was the Lord of the Eight his forces would be attacking our forces already. As always, Baroness Belladonna Von Carstein, you are quite wrong."

A sudden growl emitted from the Vampire as her retinue of violet armoured warriors reached for their weapon hilts and scabbards. Arkhan's head shook once again before looking back towards Nagash and politely waiting.

"You are correct, Arkhan. This is not the Destroyers Horde."

The voice boomed across the large black chamber, filling each attendants head as well as through their ears. If it was possible, Arkhan would be grinning, but the skeletal visage simply turned back to the Vampiress. Belladonna felt a shiver before calming noticeably; a curt bow to the God of the Dead followed.

Arkhan nodded once before bowing, his staff resting in his grasp as The Black tilted towards his Lord, then turned, his attention returning to the crackling Realmgate in the distance.
"The enemy comes regardless. We should proceed with out defence. Do you not agree, Baroness?"

Belladonna tensed, her fangs digging into her lips as she was spoken to in such a pathetic manner. Her bodyguard once again reached for weapons.
"So swift to state that they are the enemy, Arkhan."
Arkhan physically sighed.
"That is because they are, Baroness Belladonna."
"Where is your proof, or has the Right Hand of Nagash fallen on difficult times, forced into Divination from a Long Dead Time!"
Silence filled the room as her voice echoed, the sound of anger clear while the clatter of wandering corpses and shifting Graveguard became the primary orchestra. The Baroness shifted, her gaze falling from Arkhan as his silence gaze simply answered her question.

The chamber was partially devoid of unlife. Wraiths hung in the air while Graveguard stood motionless, loyal soldiers awaiting orders from their God and Lord. Nagash remained sat.

Arkhan at this point had begun to move, his commands moving around as silently as the chamber they called their home. Flocks of over-sized bats whinged from the rooftops and pillars before shrieking their way north, their wings a testament to the sound of a heartbeat long forgotten. Bellow them, Necromancers began their grisly recruitment as skeletal warriors were awoken from their eternal slumber, their weapons glinting in the dead sun's glow. All the while, Baroness Belladonna remained waiting, her right hand resting on the hilt of her blade as her patience became gradually more narrow.

With an crank of over-sized bones, Nagash's form began to rise from his throne as the Realmgate turned from the crimson shade to a florescent pink an royal purple. The win began to reverse its traffic, now as if the Gate was inhaling in one great, long and sudden breath. Emotion was an rare thing to be felt in the Realm of Nagash, but the tension did indeed increase.

Alakanash materialised in Nagash's cold, dead grip as the God's affinity awoke whole legions of undead servants, the splitting of the earth cracked as the Realmgate finally connected and spat open; laughter and stuttering flames flowing freely from it. The Baroness and The Black both turned to the Gate, before feeling the sudden thrill of one great, deep voice.

"This is not the Destroyer. Commanders of Undeath, hear and obey. Stop the Fateweaver."