Campaign

Far past the World's Edge Mountains, farther still past the blacked earth of the Chaos Dwarf Empire, lays a vast frozen waste. Known to scholars of the old world as "The Unknown lands" it was once home to great tribes of nomads whom, in culutre, were linked in many ways to the Kislevites.

These nomads were savage indeed. Gigantic in comparison to the men of the empire, the rode on the backs of great, black steeds, and hunted great bison that roamed the open areas. Their simple religion was based mostly around the worship of nature spirits. Manticores being quite numerous in the Unknown lands, the nomads revered them in especialy high regaurd. There were slight taints of Chaos in their worship too, however, thier shamen's code forbade even the mention of the four dark brothers by name.

They were savage, but they lived harmoniously with nature. Never taking more than they needed, and told thier children tales of great beasts that would come to destroy men who abused the plenty that nature had laid before them.

However, this unforgiving snow feild would be the path that Hobgobbla Khan's golden horde took to lay siege to Zhar Naggarund. The stalwart tribes faught valantly against the Hobgoblin tide, but matched in riding expertise, and sorely outnumbered. They fell back, and prayed and sacrificed to the manticores for thier aid. They great beasts responded, but were cut down by the whooping Green sea, and the few that survived retreated to thier caves.

Finaly, in a last effort, half of the shamen began to suggest making a pact with the Blood God, to gain his undefeatable favors in battle. This would surely alow them to beat back the Hobgoblins and prevent them from despoiling the stark harmonious beauty of thier land. The Other Half proposed to flee to Norsca and Kislev. So there was a schism. Half the tribes would go over the mountians to escape, and the other half stayed behind to try and fight the Greenskins with the favor of the blood god.

As the nomad warriors faught on and on, their resolve to nature slowly disapated into sheer bloodlust, and the achane favors of Khorne began to mutate and distort the very physical forms of the shamen whom had invoked his name. Turning them into vile demons that craved blood. For a while the Nomads made progress. Beating the Hobgobblin tide back from the mountain foothills, and into the rolling snow drifts. the Shamen built shrines to Khorne to call his favors even stronger.

Slowly though, Poisoned blades had been thinning the nomad warriors numbers, and in time the were too suffuse to repell Hobgobbla's army, and the green savages destroyed them, and demolished the shrines.

The Hobgobblins would meet thier conquest's end on the Plain of Zhar, as the full force of the Chaos Dwarf Empire was thrown against them to halt thier plunder, but in the Unknown lands, the twisted demonic souls of the Khornate Shaman would cling to the frozen waste. Unspeakable evil binds thier souls to the land, thier disapointment and bitter hatred keeping thier souls bound to the mortal plain. Thier evil would warp the land, plunging it into unending winter for decades. Great spires of enchanted black stone burst forth from the earth, and the greatest and wisest trees would be chopped down to burn the pyres of sacrifice as manticores and other sarced animals were sacrificed to the blood god.
From the realative safety of Kislev, the escaped Shamen could feel the pain of their homeland. They knew that something must be done to free the souls of thier tortured brothers, and also to end the suffering of thier sacred plains. They dispersed through out the old world and went to call great generals from all of the civilised races and nations to aid them in ending the curse. They lured hearts with promised of abandon treasures from the great Khan's horde, and adventure, the likes of which had never been seen.

The curse souls called out too. Fevered dreams rifled the minds of all the dark hearted generals of the world. Soon ships would set sail from Naggaroth to Skavenblight, and ancient followers of chaos marched off to destroy a bastion of thier most hated brother. Orc's were drawn by visions of riches, and also curiosity as to what big battle all the other armies were going off to fight.

The Slaan were drawn from their temples as a long lost plaque of old, originaly stolen by a Cathayan pirate, called out to them as it rest beneath feet of snow dropped by a Hobgobblin leader years earlier.

Even the reclusive wood Elves emerged out of thier forest, sensing a great wrong was being commited to the forces of nature, one that could not go unavenged.

Freezing hands grip icy steel as feet go numb burried in the snow. The forces of good and evil have entrenched themselves in the Unknowlands to face perils like never before. Riches abound, but who will be victorious.