The Daemonwhisperer

[Nagathi]

//Thought I could share this little story with you guys. It's the longest thing I've ever written (17 pages in word), and it's quite good. The F&B campaign is pretty much what the second half of it is about.


The Daemonwhisperer
Written by Nagathi

“Mwahahaha! You will never defeat me!”
The grim Druchii warrior looked down on the weakling elf before him. After a mighty blow to his left shoulder, he had fallen to the ground, now facing upwards from on his back as his nemesis struck the final blow.
“When will these wretched Asur learn? The forces of our rightful king, Sir Malekith, will always win over you foolish deceivers. You made a horrible mistake cursing me and my king from our lands; you will pay the price for such a transgression.”

The noble warrior turned around to face his next foe, and there were many willing to show their worth to the rest. The druchii engaged the biggest one of those around as some city levy charged into the rest. The new fighter was much more equal to the noble in terms of strength and skill than the last challenger was. A swing of the halberd almost separated the asur’s left arm from his torso, but he saw the incoming attack just in time to do a quick dodge and a rapid counter attack against the druchii’s opposing leg. The armour-clad noble jumped up over the shiny blade of the asur’s sword. As he landed, he thrusted the end of his halberd into his foe’s helmet, making him doze off.

“Ha! You thought that could finish me off? Allow me to laugh at your absurd attempts.”
A hail of black-feathered bolts came flying through the air. The remnants of the large High Elf force stood no chance against the superior might of the Dark Elves. The proud and somewhat arrogant druchii warrior rushed towards the pack of enemies straight on, shouting and screaming at them.
“Revenge! You will all die!”

A big explosion was heard nearby when the enchanting sorceresses showed their skills in bending the winds of magic. Another explosion was followed by several loud screams of agony and pain. The shared hate towards all of the Asur made this rampaging force of Druchii almost unstoppable.

---

The young elf child ran across the yard outside the door where his father stood. Nagathi was playing with his sister; they played exactly the same game as they always did – Nagathi was the noble harbinger of their king’s army, and his sister, Altharia, was the charming and seductive mistress whose heart the noble herald tried to conquer. Nagathi ran around, swinging his newly acquired halberd at his imaginary enemies while Altharia stood next to him and giggled a bit. Even in these dark times, only a mere few centuries after the Great War of the Sundering, there was time for fun, excitement, and entertainment.

Nagathi and his sister lived together with their parents in the glorious city of Naggarond. The father was relatively wealthy and rich, and was so able to put young Nagathi in the finest school in the whole country. There he would be taught the great Art of War. He would learn how to use the drannach to the best effect, how to quickly fire and reload the uraithens, in addition to the most basic combat techniques. In just a few years would Nagathi be taught battle tactics, the strengths of an army, including everything from the use of skilled assassins to the mighty cold one knights, and he would also learn the important facts about the different armies out there in the old world, all of which were hateful enemies to the Druchii.

In his free time, Nagathi liked to enjoy life. Instead of doing as many of the youths in his age normally did, he went around the neighbourhood, watched the trees grow, heard the birds sing, and basically enjoyed what the life gave him. Nagathi was still a pretty hateful person, just as any other druchii were at this time; hating the pitiful Asur for what they had done to him and his people. Their deeds had separated the First Speakers; the Elves had been divided in two.

However, all these walks around gave Nagathi peace inside, pleasure of security. To Nagathi, pleasure was something of a secret hobby, something he did not share with anyone else. He wanted to keep it a secret, not really knowing why. He had an innate high pain barrier, which he liked to test from time to time – pain often brought pleasure to him. This was yet another odd piece of Nagathi’s scrambled persona. All individuals are created differently, Nagathi knew, but freely hurting oneself was not something within the boundaries or normality.

However, his penchant for pain and pleasure soon evolved into a great passion, and the passion then developed into an obsession. He was clearly showing signs of not being dedicated to the hags and their temples, something that his elderly father was dreadfully worried about. Now when they finally had broken loose from the distrustful Asur, and followed their rightful king, Malekith, to their new land, why should this child show signs of distrust and disrespect towards their ruler? For being interested in pain and pleasure was something often related to the Cult of Pleasure, a forbidden sect dedicated to the Chaos god Slaanesh. If you were linked to that cult in any way, you could count on a certain death.

His father, noble Irulthan, tried to hide Nagathi’s behaviour to the fullest extent, but despite his efforts, the rumours spread outside the walls of his house. It was probably the other youths who noticed Nagathi’s strange behaviour and soon drew parallels with that and the cult. When this terrible information reached Irulthan, he decided to leave the city, never to return.

They had all heard about what would happen to people who defied the official religion – the hags would send out assassins to swiftly eliminate any dissenters, such was the zeal of Hellebron and her followers. If not the assassins, then the city militia would get the assignment of eradicating the problem. There was no place to hide within the city. Hellebron’s agents were everywhere and could easily detect any disloyal family.

Nagathi’s family therefore packed their belongings within a few hours, and rapidly set off towards unknown lands. As far away as possible from Ghrond, Hellebron's dark citadel and capital of the Temple of Khaine, was their destination. Irulthan led his family north, through the mountains, ever closer to the chaos wastes where the four gods of chaos were more generally accepted. There Nagathi’s passion would not seem as extraordinary by the common folk.

Nagathi’s father left his job, he dared not showing his face among his former colleagues, his mother was devastated and his sister, oh sweet Altharia, she could not stop crying. Hellebron, Khaine’s Chosen One, by having such cunning informants everywhere, had made sure the family would never cross the Druchii society again. No matter which city they would try to enter, they would all be recognized and halted at the gates, if not killed on the spot.

Irulthan was incredibly angry with Nagathi, his mother was shocked, but deep inside Nagathi knew that they both loved him for the person he was, even though his obsession has made them homeless, and his love back at them were as warm as it could ever be. This was yet another treat of Nagathi’s ever-growing guise. His parents and sister had become his only friends. They were the only ones he cared about. Nagathi felt that if it was necessary, he could sacrifice his own life for their survival. That is the straight opposite to the normal backstabbing characteristics of Druchii.

Without a home inside the security of the outer walls, Nagathi’s family had to find a place to live. Their lives were destroyed, their money was gone, and they needed a place to stay since the cold and harsh conditions would kill them rapidly unless they found a house or even a small hut in which they could find cover. As they travelled northwest, they came across this village near the Watchtowers, not far from the chaos wastes. It was not a large village; about two and a half dozen smaller huts and houses were standing around something one could call a yard where a fireplace had been erected.

In their new home, they managed to carry on with their shattered lives, eating the food they supplied by themselves, and drinking whatever the settlement could provide. It was not a healthy and rewarding life worthy of noble Irulthan and his family, but they managed to survive, even though they knew these people around them would turn them in for any kind of reward. However, what stopped them was a mystery for Irulthan and his wife.

Nagathi grew stronger and was soon able to match his father in a fight, although it was unclear to him if this was due to his father getting older, or himself becoming stronger and more skilful. Maybe his adoring father was letting Nagathi win, just to make up for his long-lost dream of going to the school of warfare. Whatever the reason, Nagathi’s desires for the seductive, the pleasurable, and all things beautiful kept on growing. By now, he knew he was addicted to the allure of Slaanesh and he was unable to let this obsession go away, he simply had to feel every aspect of elegance and irresistible charm of all of nature’s elements.

Nonetheless, Nagathi was not the only one growing both physically and mentally – his dear sister Altharia had started to show early signs of being gifted with the blessing of magic. She knew, however, that she would never get the opportunity to be admitted to any of the six great Convents of Sorcery in Naggaroth, for they all resided within the large cities, places where she would never set her foot again. With this gloomy knowledge, she had no choice but to practice by herself, preferably in the middle of the night where no one could interrupt or disturb her concentration and focus.

As all members of Nagathi’s family continued their somewhat miserable lives one terrible thing happened. On a rainy day soon after the fifth moon lapse, a chaos war band rode in upon the unprepared village. It was made up of several sturdy warriors with big round shields and bare upper bodies, a handful of bigger warriors clad on pitch black armour plates and wielding massive shields and swords. The warriors and marauders were accompanied by numerous daemons.

All the inhabitants of the village capable of fighting did so to the best of their skills, but they were vastly outnumbered by the brutal marauders, the skilled warriors, and the magically enchanted daemons. With all odds against them, only a miracle could be their saviour. But what god would even think twice about this deserted village in the middle of nowhere?

The scavenging warriors looted and burned most of the houses with the aid of the daemons, and the defensive efforts of the villagers were futile. However, as the raiders came to Nagathi’s house he felt something familiar. A deep sensation of pain burned inside his chest, but pleasure filled his mind and soul. Everything went black and he thought he fainted as all strength was drawn out of his body. His knees felt like soft branches.

However, Nagathi did not faint as such, but he had rather been possessed by a spirit Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Pleasure. The great deity laid its voice on Nagathi’s tongue and spoke to the chaos daemons, which were just about to drive their claws through his throat and decapitate him. When they heard the voice of their majestic lord and master, they all stopped in their tracks. The words pouring from Nagathi’s lips were not of this mortal world, but rather from a dark language known only to creatures of a higher essence. Nagathi, half unconscious and half awake, heard the words. He could not translate them directly, but he still understood what he was saying.

The voice explained to the daemons nearby that Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Pleasure, their rightful leader and custodian of their fates, had other plans for this insignificant elvish boy. His life would be spared, just as all of the still living population of this paltry camp. Nagathi stood there and spoke to the daemons, telling them that they should leave now and never come back. Then he fell to his knees, gasping for breath as he stared around blankly, not really knowing his whereabouts. All the people surrounding him who had witnessed this spectacular feat could do nothing but stand with their jaws open in awe. They had actually heard this lowly boy speak the language of daemons, and told them something that made them leave the settlement without further ado.

From that point onwards, he was known as The Daemonwhisperer, the one who knows the language of the other realm.

Unfortunately, the war band had already managed to pillage and kill most of the deprived villagers, including Nagathi’s own dearly loved father and his beloved mother as they fought alongside the forlorn defenders. His father had been one of the first to dispose some marauders, and he fended the rest off pretty good. However, he was eventually the last man standing, and could be easily dispatched. Nagathi’s father had died in combat, while Nagathi himself had frozen up instead of helping him.

Without parents or custodians, life was grim. However, they did not need to wait long; rumours about the Daemonwhisperer quickly reached the ears of Morathi. She sent out a search party to bring them in under her wing. She knew Altharia had shown some meagre skills in the knowledge of magic, but her brother, Nagathi, was a form of exasperation. His hatred for chaos and their foul elements grew ever stronger, and Lady Morathi, an ally of the chaos tribes, could not risk taking him to her school of the supernatural, even though he had shown some strong signs of being the chosen of Slaanesh himself, Morathi’s own master and god.

As Morathi’s servants reached the devastated village, with houses burning, children crying over their dead relatives and men and women trying to heal the countless wounded, they walked right up to Nagathi and his sister. They told them unsympathetically to pack their belongings quickly and follow them. Nagathi took everything he could carry from his father’s armoury, included the trustworthy and large twin-bladed drannach his father used to love. Nagathi felt its blades to see if they were still sharp – a small globule of blood trickled down his finger; the long years had not taken its toll on this elvish-forged weapon. Nagathi named it “Elthranlu”, meaning “Doom of Chaos”, in simple retribution for his father’s life.

So it came to pass, that Altharia was accepted to join Morathi’s cult, while Nagathi the Daemonwhisperer was left outside alone – forced to survive, yet again, by his own skill and knowledge. He did not have any contact with his beloved sister, whom he loved with all of his heart, and he could not get any information of her progress. He lived on the meat of the creatures he could slay, and drank the water of melted snow.

He practised his skill with his large twin-bladed weapon, Elthranlu – his weapon of choice – against all kinds of fearsome beasts that he encountered. After years of training and with a will to survive so strong almost nothing could kill him, he became a fearless and highly skilled hunter, easily capable of slaying large bears and other mighty beasts that roam the northernmost reaches of the Land of Chill.

As decades passed, and centuries turned into millennia, Nagathi, the Daemonwhisperer did not age at all. Instead, the blessing of Slaanesh made him more powerful with each passing day; he grew bigger then a normal elvish warrior and stronger too. The Elthranlu cleaved the air as it was swung against the fell creatures; the malicious beasts stood no chance against such a fast and deadly attack. They presented no challenge whatsoever. Nagathi could do nothing but to wait, however, he did not know what exactly he was waiting for. His anger and hatred developed further as most of his thoughts went to his now dead parents and probably dead sister.

In the midst of winter a handful of years later, during one of the coldest nights of the entire year, a bright light suddenly appeared in front of him. It was a white light, but when Nagathi looked more closely, he saw it was shifting in purple and pink. He stood in awe and gazed at the light, which unexpectedly started to form a shape. Nagathi could not tell its contours, but he knew this was a sign from The Dark Prince. Nothing could set off such a tingling feeling but the Lord of Pleasure.

Suddenly a voice spoke directly at him. It said,
“Nagathi, Daemonwhisperer, I have felt your worries and can assure you, that your sister is doing well under the caring supervision of my mistress. You will be united once again very soon.”
The feeling that Nagathi had known so many years ago in his village had now returned, a mixture of pain and sorrow, but also a sensation of delight. The apparition continued:
“Do not worry. I have seen your proficiencies, and I have chosen you to undertake of a great quest."

Nagathi’s brain worked frenetically. He still could not believe the actual Dark Prince of Chaos, known as Lanshor and a multitude of other names to some, was talking directly with him. What made Nagathi, a poor renegade Druchii youngster, so special? However, before he could speak his queries, the apparition replied,
“You will bear my blessed mark, the Mark of Shornaal. You will be my messenger. I will also provide you with a steed to make your travelling more comfortable and above all, so much quicker. Here, take Zahroth, a trustworthy steed in my name.”

An agonizing pain started to grow on the back of his right hand. An invisible pen drew in fiery letters the sign of Slaanesh. Nagathi let out a scream of pain, but a smile extended over his lips. The light from which the voice came started to twist wildly about; it became narrower and soon formed the shape of a snake-like beast – a Steed of Slaanesh. Its perverse beauty was gracefully combined with a wholly unnatural appearance.

Nagathi looked worried. “But what is it you, the Dark Prince of Chaos, want me to do?”
“I can sense your soul. I know that you may be trusted. In the dark ages which you mortals live in, those spawned of chaos have begun to abuse my power. They use their forces for pointless raids and pillaging, they burn villages, they slaughter innocent people, and they behave more in the manner of the followers of the Brute."

"Let your hatred take you east, there you will find an army under the command of Lady Morathi. Your sister will be there as well. Join with them, and remember that hatred is an interesting feeling… If used properly it can change many things. If focused correctly it will be as an enchantment. Your sister will gladly help you. Now go, before the tide changes.”

As the voice faded away, Nagathi fell backwards and ended up sitting down in the cold snow. He felt the hair on his arms rising, but it was not due to the winds blowing, he had too much armour and clothing for that. For a few seconds he knew he had felt the winds of magic gust by. Had the great god given him the gift of magic? What had he made to earn such a privilege?

Zahroth snaked towards Nagathi, lowering his long and narrow head and softly bumping on the thick plates on his leg. He apparently wanted to leave as quickly as possible, and Nagathi, the Daemonwhisperer rose up and placed himself in the saddle of this white and lustrous creature. With a speed twice as fast as a running elf they set off, heading east to find the awaiting army.

Nagathi’s mind tried to interpret everything that had been said to him, but the constant images of the burn-mark on his hand, the face of Altharia, and the very same creature he was riding on interrupted his thoughts. His hate for the chaos minions grew as the journey kept on going. Now when he had heard his master sharing his concerns about them, the hate and ought for revenge over his dear parents took the best out of him. He dozed of to the soft sound of Zahroth’s sleek body against the smooth snow.

When Nagathi, the Daemonwhisperer reached the foretold army encampment in the east, he glimpsed Altharia standing next to a bluish fire together with some other beautiful women. Oh, she had grown into such a slender and gorgeous lady during all these years. Nagathi jumped off his snaking steed and ran into her awaiting arms, for she had seen Nagathi in the same moment as he saw her. He lifted her up in his strong arms and both elves were filled with happiness, and tears of joy seeped down their cheeks. Not a word could be uttered; they just held each other tightly in their arms and prayed they would never be apart again.

Lady Morathi, the mother of the king, stepped out of her tent and called for Nagathi. He did not answer, but he loosened the grip of Altharia and turned his head toward the most beautiful elf he had ever seen, she was magnificence personified, the true result of many millennia of worship to Slaanesh. She waved him to come inside her tent, and he obeyed.

It was indeed a tent for a queen; it was luxuriously decorated with golden artefacts, purple, pink, white, and light blue cloth hanging along the tent walls. However, Nagathi did not have time to feel all the beauty since Morathi started to speak with him with her soft and tender voice.

“Greetings Nagathi Daemonwhisperer. I assume you know why you’re here. During one of my encounters with the Dark Prince I was told that you were on your way to meet us, I know the nature of your quest, and I know what I have to do for you.”
Nagathi remembered his meeting with Slaanesh that cold night as a shiver ran up his spine. Lady Morathi continued without interruptions:

“Apparently, a chaos war band has slain your parents and burned most of the village you were then living in. I heard about your growing hate for chaos, and so I decided to acquire your sister, Altharia, the Deceiver, into my tutoring halls. She too has been marked with our master’s own sign.”

Nagathi was shocked; he did not think that his precious sister would have been given the blessed mark as well. But then it hit him, how else would she have survived all these millennia? It had to be a gift given from Slaanesh himself. Nagathi replied,
“What does Slaanesh wish you to do for me? Why am I here?”

“After all these years you have been given more and more of the power Slaanesh can give you, such power is immense, and your body is a factual indication of that. You are far stronger then you would otherwise be, you can withstand far deadlier blows then you would normally. The young prince of chaos has given you the strengths of a Druchii Anointed.”
“But what has that to do with my mission?” wondered Nagathi Daemonwhisperer with a childish tone in his voice.
“Calm yourself boy, there is plenty of time. Your enthusiasm will not help you, rather the opposite.”

Morathi looked at him with her old, dark eyes and continued: “The Dark Prince wishes me to give you an army of my finest warriors, fighters who will follow you north and east. He wanted to use this army to eradicate the chaos tribes that abused Hir name, those who are unworthy of Hir blessing. However, I cannot give you this army – my allies, most of the northern tribes, would not be happy with me if I sent out a force led by a commander with the sole intent to eliminate them. They would gather in masses and try to behead me; it would be a pity to have to kill them for that diminutive reason. I am not defying the will of my master; I am only trying to find a way around it. I will give Altharia, your sister, the commanding position of this renegade force.”

As always, Lady Morathi knew how to bend the rules to her liking, and this was to be no exception. Nagathi knew she was not afraid of the chaos tribes.

“I believe you have received a better description of your mission then I have, but spare me the details, the less I know about your anti-chaos sentiments, the better. However, I was instructed to train you in the Dark Art. The Dark Prince wanted to make sure you had a chance against the highly skilled armed forces you will meet on your quest. I have sensed the winds of magic being harnessed within your body; you are not a hopeless case after all. You shall wait outside this tent tomorrow morning when the sun starts to shine over the hills in the east. Be here!”

The next day Nagathi stood there, outside Lady Morathi’s tent when the sun rose up over the hills in the east, ready to test himself in the dark arts of magic. Morathi taught him all day long, showing him how to pronounce the words, how to focus the energies, and how to withstand the power of such great spells. And she taught him every day the following year and a half, except those days where she was needed by the king, Malekith, her son.

On a sunny day when the air tasted fresh and the snow was sparkling white, Nagathi’s training was interrupted suddenly by Morathi. She stopped whatever she was doing and calmly stated, “He’s coming...”
A few seconds later Nagathi felt the pain in his chest as the bright light appeared in front of him and his tutor. It was the same bright light, which had told him to travel east to this camp almost a whole score of moon lapses ago. The light turned and twisted, just as the last time Nagathi had seen it, and it spoke in an authoritative voice:

“Greetings Lady Morathi and Nagathi. Your training has gone well; I can sense the winds of magic being turned into controlled waves of mind-altering delusions and dominating enchantments. The time has come, Loremaster Nagathi, the Daemonwhisperer, for you to go. You harness the arts needed for your journey, and your army stands ready outside, together with a personal gift from me due to your implausible progress in here. Now go, hurry!”

The light abruptly disappeared, and Nagathi looked questioning at Lady Morathi.
“You heard your master, Nagathi. You have learned well and earned the right to be called Loremaster. Your army is prepared to salute you and your sister outside, hurry – you do not know how much time you have before you must leave. I have taught you well, and I believe that Slaanesh, your lord and master, will guide you and the army you join to great victories.”

“What was this reward our master told me about?” Nagathi asked without thinking.
“He has sent you a handful of his finest riders – a regiment of six daemonettes on their fast and deadly steeds, which will follow you to the end of the world of you so desire. It is a great honour to receive such a bequest; you must certainly be an Avatar of Slaanesh. Go outside and accept the army’s salutation.”

Nagathi mumbled a covered “Thank you” before he turned around and stepped outside the tent. Beneath him stood a complete army, fully equipped and ready to go, with his dear sister, Altharia in front sitting upon one of the strongest and fastest horses these lands could provide, and a dazzling group of daemonettes on top of what Nagathi thought were the most gorgeous creatures ever next to her. As Nagathi looked out over the gathered troops, they broke out in a cheer: “Loremaster Nagathi, the Daemonwhisperer!”

So they set off, ahead towards new battles against whatever enemies might stand in front of them – Altharia leading them, but with her proud and skilful brother by her side. Whether there were distrustful Asur, scavenging Chaos, or any others, they would all be crushed in he name of Slaanesh, the Dark Prince of Pleasure.


Part II


Nagathi looked out over the group of men, women, daemons, and mystical beings as they marched forward, through the dense trees of this nordic landscape. It looked so peaceful with the ashen, glimmering snow underneath the high pine trees. The contrast between the white, bright ice and the brown tree trunks made it look like a winter’s paradise. The sight was pompous, and several thoughts went through Nagathi’s head as they walked on into the unknown. How had this all happened? How long had he been isolated alone in the wilderness? Why had the Dark Master himself chosen just him? These thoughts kept running around his mind.

Nagathi glazed over his shoulder at Altharia, just as beautiful as she was last time he had gazed upon her. He lips were red with a faint nuance of purple, her cheeks slender and pale, and her hair, dark brown like the mane of her strong stallion. However, it was neither her lips, her cheeks nor her hair anyone watching her would get stuck on; it was her eyes. So clear blue they could be mistaken for sapphires, yet still burning with the intensity of thousands of fires. One could easily get lost gazing into those lovely eyes. When she was young, Nagathi remembered, those blue eyes could shift into a turquoise colour if she became really mad or embarrassed; a memory that made Nagathi smile a little.

“Oh those lovely days of youth…” he spoke quietly to himself.
Altharia heard him and got abruptly disturbed in her thoughts. She turned her focus on him and asked with her silky smooth voice what Nagathi was daydreaming about.
“Oh, nothing dear sister. Nothing important. I’m just having a moment for my mind. So much has happened the last few years.”
Altharia was apparently satisfied with the answer as she turned back in her saddle and once again stared straight forwards as if she was in a trance.

Nagathi did not make any effort in putting himself comfortably in Zahroth’s saddle. Instead, his eyes ventured down his sister’s body, discerning all of her sleek and snow-white body contours. She was indeed one of the beautiful mistresses of Morathi’s own convent; that kind of splendour could not have been anything but the work of Slaanesh himself. Out of the few maidens Nagathi had seen through his many years, she must have been among the most magnificent.

His eyes left the stunning Altharia for the mysterious woman a few horse lengths behind her. He had heard a name when one of the others called for her, Mara he believed it was, but Nagathi had not yet spoken to her or even greeted her formally. With a light waggle on Zahroth’s snow-white side, he snaked closer to her. Almost without a sound Zahroth came ever closer to this mystifying mistress of Slaanesh, for she was a mistress of Slaanesh, Nagathi had seen the mark on her left shoulder a few days earlier when they prepared for the night.

The woman did not seize the same unique beauty as Altharia did, but to a mere mortal she would be one dazzling lady to behold. Her hair was black as the darkest of nights, her eyes just as murky. The tone of her skin was gloomy, unlike Altharia’s more vivid nuances. Her breasts looked as smooth as a summer breeze, although such warm breezes had left this part of the world a long time ago. Now all that was left was a cold and harsh environment, hostile to all creatures except the big bears and the like.

Yet again Nagathi’s eyes swept across his newly acquired army, and this time it fell on the two regiments of mistresses and marksmen respectively. They were in even numbers and seemed to get along very well. One mistress carried the sign of Slaanesh high aloft with a sign of pride smeared over her face. The young prince of darkness would be very delighted over Nagathi today; he expected a calm and silent night. The devotees’ horn blower walked next to the marksmen’s’ musician, chatting and seeming quite comfortable in each other’s company.

Nagathi knew such feelings between two people in an army could prove to be a big hazard, but one thing had his old father learnt him during his younger days; you do not fix things that are not broken, you do not meddle in the affairs of others unless it is a large quantity of threat hanging in the air. He thought about it for a while and then realised that he did not even know if these two actually had feelings, or if they just happened to be discussing where they learnt to play their instruments or what songs they enjoyed the most. One should not destroy friendship within the army, such relationships are indeed dreadfully important to the smooth machinery of a fighting force.

Quite a few hundred paces ahead of them ran the scouts almost undetectable between the bushes, trees, and piles of snow. Even though no direct danger had been recognised around these areas, one could not be too certain, one could not be too cautious. There were not many scouts, Nagathi knew, but their skill and speed with their crossbows made up for the lack of numbers. The army contained twice as many marksmen as it did scouts, and as many devotees as marksmen. He knew this was far from what some would call a larger force, but he had seen them all training, and this was undeniably an army to be reckoned with.

His so important cavalry was made up out of the six daemonettes given to him after he had completed Morathi’s magical training; six daemonettes atop the fastest steeds ever to have walked the mortal realm, with the possible exception of Zahroth, Nagathi’s own trusted steed of Slaanesh. With barely any clothes on, and their bright white skin reflecting the glimmer of the snow, they could easily be mistaken for light cavalry at its worse. However, one who thought that and stood in their way would soon learn the strengths these daemons held. Nagathi did certainly not want to be on the receiving end of those sharp claws.

Close behind the daemonettes rode the savage knights on their lizard beasts. Metal chains quivering, armour plates banging, and cold ones grunting in the cold air; these guys did nothing to try hiding their presence. Even the smell of the cold ones reached Nagathi’s nose from this far distance. A stench of numbing poison mixed with dung irritated his nostrils a he took a deep breath. Oh, how he pitied those riders, having to live with that stench throughout their lives without a single hope of ever getting it off. For some there is no end to how you can brag about your wealth and nobility, although Nagathi could without doubt come up with a few better ways than anointing yourself with a poison you will never be able to wear down.

Apart from the sign of Slaanesh carried by the mistress on the flank to Nagathi’s right, the knights held the only standard in the entire army. A beautiful black flag with the markings of their dark prince painted in bright pink and purple on its front. You just could not mistake this army for something else then an expedition from Morathi’s cult of pleasure. What their mission were was still unknown to many in the force, only Nagathi and Altharia knew the whole story. Although, they did not know how much this Mara knew about the mission. Maybe Morathi had explained it all to her beforehand.

The crew of the two reaper bolt throwers did not know their mission, and neither did the slimy spawn that had found its way to their camp the first night out in the wilderness together. No one knew where it had come from; the scouts had seen nothing in the area during the entire course of the night. Suddenly it was just there. The mysterious sorceress said nothing on the following day, but Altharia spoke to Nagathi about sorceresses able to summon daemons and other creatures from the magic realm, which she had seen during her many years studying the fine arts of enchanting under Lady Morathi’s wings. No matter its source, it had come without a fight, and seemed willing to follow Altharia and Nagathi’s orders.

Nagathi purred Zahroth to slow down so he could see the entire force in front of him. Oh what a marvellous sight! But wait! The shades had unexpectedly run into the woods, except one who came running towards Nagathi.
“Ogres! Ogres! There are ogres nearby. Prepare the regiments, unsheathe your weapons. I think we have a fierce fight in our path, sire. Get ready. Ogres and beasts!”

Nagathi forgot whatever he was thinking of, now everything had abruptly changed. He had never been in a real fight before, only heard of them by his father, noble Irulthan, on rainy nights when the wind blew past their house. He had heard about great deeds, brave acts, and vengeful attacks. However, hearing about such things is far easier then actually experiencing one. Nagathi did not know what to do; he completely froze up in his actions. Not even the noise of weapons and armour being readied made his mind take the right path.

He then heard the clear familiar voice of his sister handing out orders to the nearby marksmen. They were to move up on the higher ground just south of their current position, the bolt throwers were to be placed there as well. The daemonettes and knights on their daemonic, respectively reptilian, steeds placed themselves on either side of the devotees, all facing the direction the scouting shade had pointed out as the direction of enemies.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Nagathi’s heartbeat went up, they became so load he thought everyone heard them. What if he was not as good as everyone tried to convince him that he was? What if Master Slaanesh had made an error? What if he would make a fool out of himself? What if this was the last time he got to see his beautiful sister? Nagathi spurred his sleek steed to snake up close to Altharia so that he could protect her with his very life. Nothing was allowed to end her life out here in the wilderness as long as Nagathi stood by her side.

Nagathi now remembered everything his father had told him about warfare, his body was filled with a feeling – half hate, half pride. He felt secure, he knew how to handle the situation. The enemy would come right into his prepared force, but before they could reach the lines, they would be skewered on bolts. No mortal or daemonic army could match the splendour of druchii. A race bred to fight, with the highest quality blades available. This imprudent enemy would certainly face its doom.

“You know what to do…,” a deep bottomless voice inside Nagathi’s head whispered inspiring. “You have trained for this moment longer then most mortal lives. I can see the hate and anger building up inside you, make sure you use it wisely, else you won’t live to see another day. Focus the energy, feel the creativeness, feel the strains of raw magic being shaped in your hands. Use your powers. But, above all, look behind you.”

With that final warning, Nagathi turned around completely and saw strange warriors leaping out from the woods behind him. Warriors, half men half beasts, made a running ambush on the marksmen and bolt throwers. Caught by surprise, they had little chance of hurting the incoming charge, even though they managed to kill off quite a few of these Beastmen as they ran closer. Screams from dying elves echoed on the trees, blood stained the snow red and pink. The force’s rear had been lost.

Altharia stood and watched the slaughter with fear. Would she fail her first real battle ever? No, she had to do something. These scumbags would not be allowed to slay her force. Altharia felt the hate accumulate in her veins, the winds of magic thickened, the very air surged with energy. She let loose a bolt of purple power against the nearest pack of savage beasts, and those hit by it fell to the ground twisting in agony. A sensation of pleasure spread out in her body as she watched them die. A smile grew on her lips.

“You will all pay the price of attacking me,” Nagathi roared towards a large group of beasts with gigantic spears as he charged into them. He plunged his dear Elthranlu right into the stomach of the biggest beast man he could see, then swung around and decapitating another one with the opposite end of his twin-blade weapon. Nagathi too felt the sensation of pleasure as enemy blood was spilled by his might.

Next foe to fall was a well-armoured bull with a huge two-handed axe in his hands. The bull deflected the first of Nagathi’s attacks, but Nagathi’s speed was enough to keep him occupied defending himself. After a few fierce seconds, he landed a blow on the bull’s neck, just where the armour was weak. The head fell off and rolled down a slight slope. Several of the surrounding brutes turned and fled screaming away, but they did not come far for a big blast exploded among them. Nagathi had quickly channelled the winds of magic into a bolt of doom.

As he turned around and viewed the battlefield, he saw that many of the enemy units were on the run, fleeing away from the encounter. However, Mara was in trouble. Three packs of ogres were charging towards her. She had no chance of escaping this certain death; unless Nagathi could stop it. He kicked Zahroth to make him go faster. Mara hurled spell after spell at the incoming brutes, but nothing seemed to work. She became stressed and what is never allowed to happen happened. She made a mistake when pronouncing the enchantment.

Nagathi felt the excitement in the air explode, the tense energy disappeared; something had gone horribly wrong. Mara saw straight into Nagathi’s eyes as she fell to the ground like a sack of clothing. The look made Nagathi freeze up inside, even though he had not gotten to know Mara very well. That look sent chills down his spine; he had seen the sorrowful death in her eyes. Nagathi rushed to her, easily killing the fiends there, dismounted his trustworthy steed to kneel by her side.

She was still alive, her chest was slowly moving up and down as she struggled to get air. Nagathi removed his gauntlets and laid a bare hand on her forehead.
“Take it easy, you’ll be ok soon. I promise. You just need to keep on going. I will make you ok again. I must. Don’t die. I’m begging you, don’t die!”
She slowly opened her eyes and looked at Nagathi with an expression that made a tear run down his cheek. She raised her arm and grasped Nagathi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, master Nagathi. I have failed you and your sister. This… this was not supposed to happen,” she whispered with all her strength.
“Schyh! Don’t speak. Don’t speak like that. You’ll be ok soon,” Nagathi replied kindly.
An explosion went off right behind them, but none of them even noticed. Instead, Nagathi rose up and lifted Mara from the ground, put her on Zahroth who instantly glided away to the edge of the forest. Nagathi had a battle to win before he could concentrate on helping dear Mara.

He saw that most of the enemy was already dead, only a few bundles of his savage adversaries were still alive and standing. A few minutes and several bolts of dark magic later he returned to where Mara laid. Altharia had succeeded in killing off almost a third of the Beastmen, she was tired but eager to aid Mara. With Nagathi standing next to her, she whispered complicated enchantments while holding her hands a few inches over her head.

“She is alive, but her injuries are too severe for me to heal” Altharia spoke softly. “She needs to get to Morathi’s tower. Maybe someone there can help us.”
“With almost the entire army depleted, we can travel much quicker. Let’s break up and go now!” Nagathi’s orders were simple and clear.

Suddenly a black clad herald on a mighty dark horse approached from nowhere. He was not a part of the force, and both Nagathi and Altharia were shocked to see him. However, before they had the chance of saying anything he spoke with a high and strong voice.
“I am here on behalf of Lady Morathi, the True Queen, Slaanesh’s Chosen One, Favoured Mistress of the Dark Prince, and I bring word to Loremaster Altharia and her brother, the Daemonwhisperer. Have I reached them?”
“Yes you have” Nagathi replied still a bit confused and shocked.

“I bring word of a meeting with her Majesty herself. You are to be at her tower in three days. Lady Morathi wants to speak with all of her generals immediately. Important matters have arisen throughout Naggaroth.”
Altharia looked questioning at Nagathi, but replied “We will be there. We were already on our way to see her. Mara is in deep need of the Queen’s assistance.”
The messenger reached inside his clothing, reached Altharia a flask with a dark liquid inside, and said “Make her drink this. It will help. I can’t help you more then that.”
The black messenger rode away into the forest without saying anything further.

Once again, Altharia looked at Nagathi with a questioning face, but something weird was happening inside Nagathi’s body and mind. His very soul trembled, feelings of pleasure has been replaced with something strange, something warm, something soft and tender. He felt… connected with Mara as she laid there on the leaves. It was a new feeling he had never before felt, a new and unfamiliar sensation that Nagathi could not place as to what it was.

He shook his head to get the mind clear, stood up, and started shouting orders. Altharia stepped back from Mara after giving her a zip of the mysterious liquid inside the flask. The readied their bags, sheathed their blades, and counted survivors. There was no time for any emotional burial; they had to leave, fast. Nagathi sat up on Zahroth, and he took Mara in his arms since she had no steed of her own. Nagathi was to departure ahead of the rest of the force, and to ride as fast as possible towards Queen Morathi’s tower. Time was against them, but they still had a chance.

He whispered their destination to Zahroth, and they set off. Altharia was to party with the few survivors on the journey back. She was their leader, their commander, their general. With a blurring speed, Zahroth rushed through the cold landscape, navigating all by himself, without any interference from Nagathi. They did not even stop to sleep, not that Nagathi ever could sleep. He could look on Mara’s face for several hours without noticing anything around them. He fell away in deep thoughts.

Two days later, when the sun had just risen above the horizon and was occupied painting the sky in a lovely nuance of orange, Nagathi, Mara and Zahroth entered the hidden tower’s surroundings. A mistress walked towards them and took care of Zahroth, she led him to a special pen where he could replenish his daemonic strengths. Nagathi bore Mara in his strong arms as he walked towards the enormous gates to the actual tower. He knocked on the doors, which were made in a strange material. Neither stone, nor metal, but something in between. They made a sound as strange as their look when Nagathi knocked on them.

A short moment later the closest door opened and a beautiful mistress stepped out to greet them.
“What makes you seek us in this hour?”
“I require urgent aid. Mara here is in desperate need of medical help.” Nagathi looked at the expressionless face of Mara, and so did the mistress.
“I see… Come inside and I will call for someone to help you” she replied.

Nagathi got shocked as he saw the grandiose of the entrance hall. It was several man-heights up to the ceiling, at least a hundred feet across to the opposite wall, where a staircase was located, and the walls were toned in a dark purple colour with what looked like moving creatures inside. They seemed to walk back and forth, talking to each other. Nagathi could hear their whispering sounds, and it filled him with the greatest strength. This was indeed the home of Morathi, chosen of Slaanesh.

While Nagathi inspected the great halls, a handful of people had rushed down the stairs and was now rapidly walking towards Nagathi and Mara, whom he still held gently in his arms. The approaching people spoke to Nagathi.
“Follow us. Put her in one of the chambers further up and we will take good care of her. Your loved one will soon be restored to normal health.”
Nagathi was shocked over that last sentence. Loved one? He was just about to tell them they were wrong when it hit him. Those feelings he had felt earlier… Could it really be love?

The mistresses and tower sentinels showed Nagathi the way up the stairs, through some hallways, up some additional stairs until they reached a big closed door. One of the sentinels put his hand on the door, closed his eyes, and the door opened by its own power. Nagathi was stunned and amazed, but the sentinel only smiled towards him. If you were to break in here, you need much more than just brute strength to open these doors.

Inside the room stood a white clad woman next to a bed, in which Nagathi carefully laid Mara. He turned to the woman in white and said, “I trust you to take good care of her; and if you don’t…” but he was abruptly interrupted.
“Don’t worry, Nagathi Daemonwhisperer, we have the best healers here. Mara will be restored to full health again.”
With that, Nagathi took a last look at Mara before leaving the room.

Together with him out came two of the tower sentinels, and they told him to follow while they escorted him to the dining hall.
“You must be hungry after that long journey, have something to eat. Feast on our hospitality. The chefs are preparing for the big meeting in a few days. Please let them know how it all tastes.”
“Thank you, I will” was everything Nagathi could say.

He was led into the most enormous dining room he had ever seen. Black marble covered the walls, soft music seemed to come from nowhere, and the ceiling, yes the ceiling was placed so high aloft it could not be seen with the bare eye. Tables were put in a big circle around the centre, white cloths with a taint of blue covered them. This was indeed going to be one pompous meeting. All the plates, jars, and ornaments had the sigils of Slaanesh on them. Oh, if one could live like this…

Nagathi felt the presence of someone behind him and turned quickly. It was merely the waiter from the tower kitchen. Nagathi’s nerves cooled down slightly.
“If you just sit down, your first meal will arrive shortly. You drink mead or wine?”
“Wine, please” Nagathi answered politely.
The waiter ran away through two doors Nagathi had previously not seen. Those probably did not show for anyone except when the waiters walked through them, Nagathi thought. This tower oozed with magic, nothing was what it really looked like, but everything here made Nagathi feel secure and comfortable. He felt a sense of belonging here.

Delicious meals were put before him, ranging from roast beef to grilled boar; potatoes and vegetables. While he ate, he thought back at how his life had been up until this point. The early childhood in Naggarond, the village up north, and the attack by those scavenging chaos daemons and marauders. A painful chill rode its way up Nagathi’s spine when he thought about his dear parents. A sensation of hateful vengeance filled his mind, but after a few mouthfuls of wine, he continued down the road of remembrance.

Nagathi’s lonesome years in the wild passed before his eyes rapidly, and he jumped to his first meeting with Lady Morathi. Now here he was, again called to her gratefulness, although a couple of days earlier than planned. Nagathi’s eyes went black as he thought about why he was here. Poor Mara was fighting for her life not far from him, and there was nothing he could do to help her.

Nagathi feasted with great delight until he felt satisfied, notified the waiter and then went back through the same doors he had came from. A tower sentinel came to meet him and show him the way to his room. Once again, they went up the stairs, up through this massive tower’s inner structure, far above the section Mara was in, up to a floor with short hallways and doors on either side. The sentinel opened one of the doors and showed Nagathi the interiors. Although small, it was comfortable. It had a bed next to a small round window, dark stone walls, a brown wooden closet to hang clothes in as well as lay off some of your gear.

Nagathi thanked the tower sentinel and closed the door behind him as he left. After a day full of surprises and psychological revelations, a long night’s sleep would restore and rejuvenate Nagathi’s old body. Old, but not aged and tired. Experienced, but not dented and scratched. Even though it was still only early evening, he unpacked his stuff into the closet, got undressed, and laid down in his bed. With his mind focused on Mara, Nagathi then fell asleep.

The next morning the Daemonwhisper Nagathi woke up to the sound of feet outside his door. He suddenly came to realise that during the whole last day, he had not seen a single person except those who were there to help him. No other guests, no other sentinels or guards, no nothing. It was very odd, but bizarre things seemed less bizarre around this magically sustained place. He thought no more about it; and instead rose from his bed to get dressed.

As he picked his clothes together, his eyes caught the marvellous view outside his window. The bright white snow, the green trees, the dark grey mountains – they all made up a beautiful panorama that really amazed Nagathi. From where he stood, a good hundred feet up, the view was stunning. Nagathi was as amazed over the view then over his reaction to it. Never had he felt this strong for beauty. What had happened? He was a born warrior, not a weakling Asur. Yet still, he could not for all the ones he had slain turn his head away.

His thoughts was abruptly interrupted by a harsh knocking on his door.
“Come in!” Nagathi shouted at the door.
Slowly the door opened and a female entered. She was not dressed as the other tower sentinels; this mistress had a more fabulous outfit. She looked to be more of a guest then a servant.
“I am here to inform you of three things” she spoke. “First of all, I am here to tell you that Mara, the woman you brought here yesterday, is feeling better and will eventually be fully restored.”
Nagathi felt as if a big weight had been lifted off his chest. She was going to be alright.

“The second thing is that all the remaining generals of Lady Morathi’s forces arrived during the night. My Queen has decided to hold the assembly tonight instead of tomorrow. Is that ok for you, Nagathi Daemonwhisperer?”
“So you mean that my sister is here already?” Nagathi asked instead of answering the question.

“Yes, Altharia the Deceiver was one of the last ones to arrive. She has gotten only a few hours of sleep at the most. She is waiting for you downstairs…” She looked at Nagathi, holding her breath before continuing. “… which brings be to the third point of issue I was told to inform you about. Food is being served in the great dining hall throughout the day if you’re hungry. There are plenty of people to see and talk to while we all await our Queen’s arrival. The personnel around here will be quite busy, but we will do anything we can to help you. Enjoy the day” With that, she turned away and walked soundlessly out the door.

Nagathi felt no hunger, only excitement over the good news. He did not even realise that he had been standing only half dressed during the messenger’s inquiry. He put on his best clothes and rushed down the stairs in hope of seeing his beloved sister somewhere down there. When he approached the great entrance hall, he saw the elegant Altharia over by a fountain, talking to a well-suited nobleman. She saw Nagathi leaping of the landing and hurriedly walking towards her. She excused herself for the nobleman and turned to greet her brother with open arms.

The met in a great hug and Nagathi gave Altharia a kiss on her cheek as they swung around. As they calmed down Altharia spoke.
“The guy I just talked to, noble Elvash’Nua, he is in charge of the armoury and the barracks of this amazing place. With his help we can restore all the unfortunate good men we regrettably lost in that iniquitous ambush. When we leave here, we will have full ranks again. Isn’t that great?”
Nagathi answered nothing, only smiled. He felt happy now that the people he dearly cared about were close.
“I heard Mara will be ok too,” Altharia continued.
“Yeah, they have very good healers here” Nagathi replied with vigilance.

“Have you heard the rumours that are floating around about why we’re here?” she asked when the silence became too obtrusive. Without giving her brother any chance of answering, she continued.
“I have heard many different stories, but they all seem to be around the issue of a new war. The cult is about to fight for its right, I mean… our right. How we are supposed to do this is something that varies from person to person. Lady Morathi, High Queen of Slaanesh will give us our orders as soon as the meeting gets started.”

Nagathi knew the nature of most rumours, none of them was any better then the other until the truth had been revealed. He decided not to trust anyone apart from Lady Morathi herself. Altharia and Nagathi walked around the crowd that had gathered in the entrance hall, and Nagathi heard almost all variants of this rumour during the course of the day. It all moved on very smoothly until the darkness fell, and the evening arrived. A message was announced that all guests were to be assembled in the great dining hall immediately. The meeting had opened.

Altharia and Nagathi sat down close to the edge of the room and watched out over all who entered. There must have been close to a hundred guests in that hall. Some clad in full armours, but most were women, clad in light and soft fabrics. Blue, white, purple, and pink dominated the room, both from the guests’ outfits and from the decorations of the room. Candles were lit along the walls to brighten it all up and to make it easier to see, although the flickering of the flames made it the opposite.

The doors in the back slowly opened and everybody in the hall went absolutely quiet. In came Morathi, Lady of Slaanesh, Queen of Druchii, and leader of the cult of pleasure. She was clad in the most beautiful purple and blue dress, covering not much more then her most intimate parts. How she could keep warm, Nagathi did not know. She walked across the room with her eyes firmly locked on the podium where she was about to give her most terrifying and daunting speech ever. As she reached the podium, she turned to face her awaiting audience. She looked out over them once before starting.

“Greetings mistresses and generals, important people and their partners, ladies and gentlemen!” Lady Morathi went silent as if she had to ponder on how to continue.
“You might want to know why you all have been summoned here; rest assured, I did it for a reason of great importance. Not many nights ago, a messenger came seeking me. His clothes were torn, his face was scarred, and his arms were injured. My guards did not let him in at first, but when they saw his mark things changed.”

“He had indeed important word for me. As you hopefully all know, most of our sources went to Lustria this summer to reclaim some of my artefacts. I was there myself a short while with my personal force, but I travelled back ahead of the others to talk with the king, Malekith. The messenger came but a few days later, and he told me about my forces’ return to Naggaroth. As they landed in the southern reaches, they were ambushed and attacked by forces of Hellebron.”

The room was filled with whispers; some almost shouted that they had known this. Queen Morathi urged for silence before she could continue.
“That deed was done by a large army of Khaine, the god of mindless slaughter. Battle scarred and tired, our forces could not do much resistance. It was a spiteful act, especially since we were in negotiations about our cult. Apparently, Hellebron takes to the blade far too often for her own good. She needs to learn the skills of diplomacy!” Her last words were cast out in pure hate, and Lady Morathi’s eyes lit up with a dark red tone. Everyone in the room could feel her rage; the air was loaded with energy. The hair on Nagathi’s neck tickled him as it stood up.

“Most of our sources were depleted” Morathi continued, “and only a handful soles made it from the wicked claws of those hags. Only one made it to my chamber. After telling me all this, he took his own life before me. Far rather would he face the humiliation of committing suicide, then live with the knowledge of having failed his queen. He took his knife from his belt and thrusted it into his own chest before my servants could stop him. Hellebron’s malicious actions must be revenged, now it is time for the shadow war between our cult and the monotonous temples of Khaine to go out and be an open conflict! All these years of constant oppression has finally made me really angry! Now is the time for vengeance!”

The entire room shouted in approval to her words. Hellebron’s deeds was not to be tolerated. Morathi called out for silence.
“Now you see why you were called to me. Take what you have heard out here today and inform your commanders and servants that the cult of Slaanesh is in war! Lay siege on Ghrond, expel all hags from the northern wastes, journey far south and slay all witches you can see! Travel across our lands and banish every hag and Khaine loyalist in every home, every cottage, every village until they all have been rightfully slaughtered!”

All in attendance broke out in a great cheer for Slaanesh. Nagathi and Altharia looked at each other, not really comprehending what just had been said. However, before they could ask the other one anything, or speak at all for that matter, Morathi gave her final words of closure.
“You will all receive a letter with orders when you leave this estate. The time of your departure is free of choice, but I am assuming most of you are dedicated enough to leave as soon as possible. May Slaanesh guide you in your path to victory!” Morathi moved out through one of the back doors and disappeared.

The time of a covert war was over. The time for retribution, retaliation, and revenge had arrived!

-----------------------------
//That's it! More might come after the campaign.

Nagathi
Loremaster

[Onyx paladin]

Very nicely written. I hope to hear more about the people in your writings.

[Darkprincess]

Very impressive, Nag - very impressive indeed.

[Nagathi]

I'm glad you liked it. The part II will be in the November monthly (but as it's late, I couldn't wait anymore). I wrote it during writer's block, so much of the stuff took me ages to figure out and then transfer from head to fingers to computer.

Might do an update whenever I got some free time to write.

- Nag

[Nagathi]

I need a fluff update for the MMM I've chosen to include...
http://www.druchii.net/viewtopic.php?p=363647#363647

- Nag

[Loran]

Oooh... great great great Nag, you are a real genius This is by far the best story I've read... Keep it coming!

I'll be eagerly waiting the third part of the story

- Loran

[Guardian of the queen]

wow, cant wait for the thrid part

[Nagathi]

It's coming, it's coming. I know what to put in it, just don't have the time to transfer it from my head onto the keyboard yet. Wait a week or two.
Glad you liked it, though...

- Nag

[Guardian of the queen]

Good luck with the writing, can be hard work (know that from experience)