In the previous episode in our series on the Warhammer Fantasy, we continued our coverage
of the End Times with a video on the rise of the Glottkin brothers, as we have seen
how the Chaos used them to break the Imperial Golden Bastion and advance into the realm
of Karl Franz.
One of the richest cities of the region – Marienburg was now on their path of destruction and the
champions of Nurgle were about to attack it.
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The city of Marienburg guarded the barrier islands and marshes formed by the flow of
the River Reik, using the natural canals to swiftly move goods and vessels between their
destinations in the Empire, fair Brettonia, and even as far as the High Elven Island of
Ulthuan.
Despite the tentative relations with Altdorf, Marienburg was vital to the prosperity of
the heartland of humanity.
Thus, to destroy Marienburg and thereby cut off a critical limb of the Empire, Archaon
encouraged Gutrot’s Plague Fleet to begin an assault much like the siege that crippled
Kislev’s similar trading hub in Erengrad.
Late Winter, 2525 IC…
An allied fleet of traders both local and foreign prepared their vessels, knowing that
somewhere in the Sea of Claws an armada of chaos and Norscan warships inched ever closer
to their side of the coast.
By now, news of the Fall of the Auric Bastion had reached the ears of all within the old
world, and the naval warriors sworn to protect the trading hub hoped to catch the encroaching
chaos armada off-guard.
Known for their legendary naval warfare tactics, a fleet of pearly white elven ships sailed
confidently out of the barrier islands and west-northwest in a loose formation to sniff
out and snuff out the harassing vessels of chaos.
Deep into the misty tide they sailed, until their silvery sails and gleaming hulls faded
into the fog of the Sea of Claws.
Meanwhile, the merchant vessel Meesterhand prepared to sail after the elves, eager to
salvage whatever treasures and supplies the elves might leave behind in their interception.
Commanded by Captain Needa van Gaal and armed with twelve cannons, the galleon’s three
sails caught an easy wind in the night to follow the wake of their sister fleet.
What they found in the veil of mist, however, shocked even the seasoned sailors aboard the
Meesterhand.
The Elvish fleet had been decimated as the sun set that evening.
Still-sinking corpses of broken hulls and shattered timber trashed the dark sea, the
once gleaming and proud sails of the elven fleet finding a dark and watery grave at the
bottom of the cold sea.
An armada of Plague Hulks and Norscan Longships had surrounded the elves with ease and sunk
any opposing vessel.
Any ship that surrendered was swiftly boarded, their captains murdered and their sailors
corrupted to the will of the Chaos Gods.
With Nurgle’s favor, Gutrot transformed the remaining vessels into floating cradles
of festering disease and barnacled hulls.
The Lord of Tentacles, having another glorious victory in the name of the God of Plagues,
chased Meesterhand back to the port of Marienburg.
Having cleverly outmaneuvered the elvish naval resistance and stolen the rest of the ships
for himself, Gutrot’s Plague Fleet arranged their armada to prepare for a massive assault.
At the front of the fleet, the dreaded Greenwolf lumbered into the range of the dwarven-built
sea wall.
On land, the merchants manned the impressive sea wall and stood their ground defiantly.
Deep within the port city’s marshy dock district, an intrigued set of eyes in the
shadows carefully watch the bloody siege unfold.
The small merchant fleet that remained in the city sailed out to stall the massive force
that threatened their home, but ultimately sank as Gutrot began an enormous attack on
the severely outnumbered city.
Just as the Greenwolf started a slow advance into the bay, the sea wall suddenly burst
with green, mossy life that was slick and cumbersome, as if the very wall had been painted
with a thick coat of noxious algae.
Partially debilitating the defensive power of the wall, the Greenwolf sailed boldly into
the heart of the port to challenge a human fleet flanking the powerful flagship Zegepraal.
Greenwolf’s behemoth hull took barrage after barrage of cannonballs, dwarven flame cannons
and ballistae bolts.
Her hull was protected with a cocoon of algae, webbed and woven into open spores that spewed
clouds of yellow and green smog.
When a cannonball would strike, or a lick of dragonfire grace the glowing green ship,
more diabolical magic and disease ensured that the vessel would not sink and give Greenwolf
a chance to launch a retaliation from the many catapults and ballista on her decks.
Once Greenwolf had breached the inside of the port, she confidently sailed into Zegepraal’s
defending fleet to dominate the bay.
Despite their brave defense against Greenwolf, the mortal sailors quickly fell victim to
Nurgle’s carefully curated plagues and diseases.
The merchant ships were trapped, and as the armada behind Greenwolf’s wake invaded the
bay and unleashed a hellstorm of cannon fire and plague catapults deep into the barrier
islands and crowded streets, Chaos Marauders made landfall from the longboats to raze Marienburg.
When the city had become infested with disease and algae, the watchful eyes within the dark
corridors of the dock district finally emerged to reveal the true master of Marienburg.
Mundvard the Cruel, a powerful vampire lord that had quietly settled and controlled the
poorest and most desperate district, sprung an ambush just as Gutrot’s fleet seemed
to control the city.
The dead merchants, sailors, and peasants erupted from the oozing marshes and overwhelmed
the surprised chaos warriors on land.
From hidden cairns, ghostly scythe cavalry and infantry phase through buildings to gleefully
chase away their horrified foes.
Having seen the tactics of Greenwolf from afar, the vampire lord channeled his rage
into the summoning of a powerful vampiric Terrorgheist, a giant dragon-sized bat with
a mouth of sword-like teeth and a piercing scream that cripples even the most ferocious
of foes.
Known as the Suiddock Beast, the vampire and his beloved undead companion launch a counterattack
of equally massive proportions.
Taking flight high into the sky, smoky with the fumes of war, the Terrorgheist plunged
down upon Greenwolf with a mighty scream.
Frozen with fear, the infected engineers of the vessel become defenseless prey beneath
the claws and fangs of the flying horror.
The undead creature, unbothered by the noxious fumes and virulent diseases on board, slammed
tooth and claw into the hull and sentenced Greenwolf to a watery, bloody grave in the
port.
In the streets, the commanding Vampire Lord slaughters and feasts on the raiding marauders.
Terrified of the endless hordes of undead and the ambushing vampire lord, the marauders
retreat to the safety of their vessels, summoning the ire of the Glottkin champions.
Mundvard the Cruel called for his flying, bestial companion and mounted a charge against
the Glottkin trio.
Just as the maw of the beast threatened to sink its fangs deep into the fat body of Ghurek,
Ehtrac extended his arms and cast a powerful spell that blasted the Terrorgheist with magic
that dismounted Mundvard.
The vampire, thrown from his seat upon his beloved beast of vampiric power, faced the
trio in single combat.
Dancing in and out of mesmerizing mist, Mundvard aimed to confuse and overwhelm his opponent
as his legions of undead close in on the Champions of Nurgle.
Ghurek vaulted his lamprey-like arm towards Mundvard and finally caught his slippery foe.
With an echoing laugh from his brothers Otto and Ehtrac, Ghurek turned his fat body inland
and chucked the Vampire Lord out of Marienburg entirely.
Mundvard was catapulted by Ghurek so far that he landed somewhere upstream in the River
Reik.
Without the support from the vampire’s master of necromancy, his undead legions crumbled
back into lifeless corpses.
From the southeast border of the city, a reinforcing army arrived to bolster the defense of the
key trading hub.
Composed of mostly free company militia, handgunners and infantry, the Imperial General Aldred
van Carroburg ordered his forces to form a defensive bloc and await the advance of the
tired marauders and chaos warriors securing their hold of the Vampire Lord’s territory.
With the city nearly under total control of the Plague Fleet’s might, the weary infantry
and war-beasts consolidated their strength to the southeastern portion of the city, exhausted
but determined to defend their newly captured prize.
From within the slime infested streets of Marienburg, a single unnamed and untested
chaos champion emerges to demand a duel with the Imperial General.
Clutching his steel sword tightly and uttering a faithful prayer to Sigmar, Aldred clashed
against the dark-armored champion of apocalypse.
Fate smiled upon Aldred, as his blade cut down the champion before his watchful army.
Morale within Aldred’s companies rallied, and with a roaring cry the lines of infantry
sallied forward to reclaim Marienburg.
The handgunners and company militia spread out into the streets to chase away the chaos
warriors, yet quickly find that their confidence was sorely misplaced…
The infestation of algae made the once bustling streets of Marienburg a slippery nightmare
of grossly overgrown sea-slime.
Chaos hounds stalked the militia, pouncing upon any poor soul that lost their footing
or became separated from their group.
Just as quickly as their morale had peaked, their lives were lost to the clever change
in landscape summoned by the Glottkin magics.
Then, Marienburg was truly lost to the favored grandchildren of Nurgle…
"Today we have provided for our father, and he has provided in kind!
Witness how his hand shapes us a path to the throat of our prey!
This day we have won a great victory, but it is a mere prelude to the glory we shall
win in the streets of Altdorf!"
—Gutrot Spume, Lord of Tentacles.
The Empire’s northern reaches festered with plague, threatening each day to creep closer
and closer to the heart of Reikland.
With their major bordering port lost to the Plague Fleet and the River Reik completely
unguarded, the Glottkin attained a critical advantage over the Empire.
As if this were not damning enough, the Empire’s closest ally Bretonnia fell victim to the
spreading plagues of Nurgle.
Herdstones erupted from the earth all over the empire, rallying the roaming herds of
beastmen into a coordinated force.
If there still remained those who denied that these were indeed the End Times, they would
soon be labeled fools as their hamlets and towns smoked under the hooves of massive raiding
armies of beastmen.
And yet still, there were fouler things lurking among the shadows of the south.
Rumors spread of red-eyed monsters with razor sharp teeth and worm-like tails lurking in
the sewers and caverns of distant Tilea.
With time, the rumors would prove true, but many would perish just as the secrets of the
Under Empire were revealed to them…
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