TVC - Epilogue

[Disciple of Nagash]

The events after the Devastation of the Dead as it later became known, were scattered to say the least.

Many were truly destroyed that day, their forms scoured from the Old World never to return. Just as many fled the destruction, hiding from the scrutiny of man and dwarf that the battle had drawn.

Some however grew stronger, feeding off their victory and turning their conquering gaze elsewhere.....

What was certain is that the Great Lord of Undeath, Nagash, had been destroyed. Nothing was left of his warped body, and those skilled in the arts confirmed the powerful soul had been banished far into the pits of the underworld. Without the Black Pyramid, there could be no resurrection this time.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Kraskor Bloodfang - Count Darvaleth

The Aftermath


It was glorious.

Kraskor Bloodfang had witnessed the death of a god, an undying god of all that is dead, and yet he had lived. The ancient vampire had been mere metres from the final duel, when Vekarin destroyed Nagash with the mighty Banishment Blade, spearing the Liche’s black heart with his magical sword. The blast that followed had washed over Kraskor; the already-wounded vampire survived only by nature of the Soulgem of Zacharias that he carried, having retrieved the red stone from the floor when he threw it at Nagash. Kraskor had thought the gem shattered against the Liche, but he was wrong; the vapour he saw was not the escape of the Necrarch, but the magical backlash of Nagash himself. When Kraskor had seen the gem lying in the dirt as the final battle reached its zenith, he had crawled to it and closed his gauntleted fist around the gem. Its powers had shielded Kraskor from an ignominious death, and through its powers, he had survived the final battle.

It had been glorious.

When the light of creation itself had faded from the battlefield, Kraskor pocketed the steaming soul gem, and slowly, painfully, brought himself to his feet. He saw, overhead, his black dragon, circling the skies and emitting a long roar as the forces of the Vampire Council had finally been granted victory. Kraskor looked around the remains of the battlefield; it was grim. Barely a corpse survived, the entire area scorched and burned, the very ground blackened with magical ash. Kraskor’s dragon circled lower by mental command, finally landing on the stained ground beside Kraskor. The vampire mounted the dragon, cradling his wounded arm, his shattered sword still clenched tightly in his fist. The battle had been long, and desperate, but the forces of the vampires had actually won. They had actually killed Nagash.

Glorious.

Kraskor had been there, too. He had sat, his eyes glimmering as history was written before him, as his sire battled the most powerful being in creation, and won. Kraskor watched as the origin of all the Undead was undone by his own creation, watched as the servant turned on the master, as mortal banished god. Kraskor chuckled, prompting a wracking cough; the vampires were no mere mortals. But compared to the might that was Nagash, they were naught... nay, they had been naught. But now, they were the victors. Now the vampires would rule their own destiny. What would come of it? What would happen now?

Kraskor didn’t know, but for the moment, he didn’t care. His arm, broken sword held tightly, lifted slowly above his head, the shattered tip of the blade rising in salute as Kraskor launched a small magical flare from his outstretched arm, the flare running along the edge of the blade before spiralling upward, its red light casting a weak glow across the entire battlefield. It continued to climb, finally reaching the blackened sky, and eventually, pushing through. A single, golden sunbeam shone through the dark clouds, the ray of light coming to rest on the point where Nagash, the Great Necromancer, the Liche Lord, the Dark Master, was defeated.

Glorious.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Vekarin the Dark Bladed - Trevy the Great

His body was broken, a husk that swayed in the limp breeze, weighed down by the enormous iron plates that adorned it. The armor itself was crumpled and torn, great rents gouged out by the power of the dark lord’s death, the runes that anointed its surface no longer glowing, simply hanging, dully, as if too tired to light themselves once again. Vekarin’s ears rung, any sound but the incessant hammering that followed in the wake of Nagash’s obliteration shut out by the massive blast. His vision was blurred, his eyes burnt by the brilliance unleashed by the Black’s final release of power, and he felt about him with his hands in a vain attempt to regain his bearings.
It was futile; there was nothing there. The explosion had leveled the battlefield and nothing remained; not rock, nor steel nor bone. Just packed, tortured earth. Vekarin pushed himself up frailly, a sheet of dust and dirt cascading from him as he did so and falling to the ground with a dry rasp. His armor groaned in protest, its plates buckled and broken.

As his senses cleared, Vekarin beheld the scope of destruction that he had wrought, the enormous radius that had been annihilated by Nagash’s final, spiteful surge of power. It was as if he was lost in a desert; dry, scorched ground everywhere he looked, no landmarks in sight.

He wondered if this was indeed the real world and not another hollow fantasy composed by the ghosts of his past.

The pounding that filled his ears receding, Vekarin was aware of a weak, tiny sound. It was a mewling; a pathetic scream so small and quiet that it could be mistaken for the soft whistle of the wind. Vekarin turned to face the source of the sound.
It was a shapeless mass, as dark and shadowy as the night around it; a small, protoplasmic figure that writhed in the air a few feet above the dead earth, trying to escape, twisting and struggling as if it were a fish swimming against the tide or a bird flying into the wind. It was trapped by something.
On the ground beneath the ghostly shape was something dark; so black that, from Vekarin’s distance it appeared as a sliver in the earth itself, a gaping wound that led beneath to the realm of Morr.

Taking a few, painful steps closer, Vekarin saw that it was the Dark Blade; perhaps the only thing besides the Blood Dragon himself to have survived the blast. The sword hummed with energy, shadows radiating from it like light would from a torch; its insatiable thirst for power not yet quenched despite the immense amounts that it must have consumed during Nagash’s final moments. The blade trapped the spirit above it; the ghostly shape unable to escape the obsidian sword’s hunger, inexorably drawn towards the weapon.

With the creak of buckled armor, Vekarin bent down and picked up the Dark Blade, its shadows playing across his vision. He hefted it in his gauntleted hand; his battered body only barely holding it aloft. The spirit screamed, railing in a quiet voice against Vekarin. Soft images played along its ghostly form; burning cities, an endless army of the dead and Vekarin’s own head atop a ragged banner pole. The Blood Dragon took a tired step forward toward the figure and the image changed to a screaming skull that yelled in rattling words to quiet to hear. With a flick of his wrist, Vekarin swept the blade he carried through the spirit’s ectoplasmic form.

One last mewling scream rent the air, and then there was silence. Silence, save for the Dark Blade humming a little louder.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Simon von Carstein / Nar-Zuul / Vlad von Carstein - Simon von Carstein

With the end of the war against Nagash there was much uncertainty within the Carstein ranks as Vlad, Nar-Zuul and Simon were missing in action. Then two days later Simon returned alone to his lands in the Border Princes. Reclaiming his position he joined forces with Karl and Mircea as a Triumvirate together they controlled Sylvania and led the Carstein family.

Simon would go on to build the Border Princes into a successful kingdom within a matter of years following his own version of Vlad’s vision. He continued using the title of Imperator and promoted the Order of Vashanesh into a full scale religion that spread across the south and began to make its way across the Borders into the Empire.

When questioned about Vlad’s fate Simon replied “Our master has ascended to from this world as any god would and will return when the Old World is ours. Lets not disappoint him.”

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Karl von Carstein / Master Nehklior / Order of Assassins - Get of W'soran


Karl von Carstein

With the end of the war against Nagash Karl returned to Sylvania with the Drakenhof home guard. The von Carstein capital had been safeguarded by his get Ademus and slowly forces where recalled from Karl's barony to reinforce the von Carstein capital, for a short period of time it seemed Karl was seize sole control of the province.
Surprisingly however the son of Vashanesh did no such thing but instead began an open alliance with Simon and Micrea, the two other most influential members of his bloodline.
With Karl's political ability and natural claim to Sylvania, Micrea's strategic skill and Simon's power and resources the take over was surprisingly efficient.
This new Triumvirate faced resistance but Karl was plainly unworried and instead focused on keeping in contact with as many council members as was possible and forged other connections with known Lahmian conclaves and Blood Dragon knights.

Master Nekhlior

The ancient Necrarch withdrew from contact with the other council members taking Kraskor with him, he reclaimed his old tower in the Land of the Dead and sent out messages recalling his surviving gets.
With this complete he began Kraskor's eduction in the ways of Spellcraft.

The Order of Sylvanian Assassins

With Akarin's death and the demise of his lieutenant Silibar the Order was thrown into disarray and no longer served Sylvania as a war for control began in the shadows of the province.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Sweeney Todd / Mrs. Lovette / Toby / Geralt of Rivia - Sweeney Todd


Several months after the defeat of Nagash, Sweeney Todd finally enacts his master plan to settle his vendetta once and for all. With recent reports of the war in the south drawing the eyes of the Empire away, Imperial authorities were completely unprepared for what happened next.

In a single night that came to be known as Gruftghulensnacht, thousands of undead emerged from the sewers of several major cities in the Empire and launch a coordinated assault upon the Lahmian bases therein. Sweeney Todd, Mrs. Lovette and Toby spearhead the attacks, along with a reappearing Geralt of Rivia, though his involvement remained unknown. Imperial troops had been transferred en masse to the Sylvanian border, just as Todd had planned, and thus the authorities were unable to muster enough forces in time to deal with the large scale raid.

The battalions of the Imperial army that were the first to respond were far too late to join the fighting. Instead they found evidence of several Lahmian covens that had been unmasked and destroyed, with their mansions razed to the ground and their minions mercilessly slaughtered. But more importantly to Todd, Turpin had finally fell into his hands after all these years, presumably to suffer a slow and painful death.

Ignorant of the true force behind the attacks, Imperial authorities determined that the von Carsteins were responsible, and prepared for
a Fourth Vampire War. As for Sweeney Todd and his 'family', their whereabouts are unknown, though rumor has it that they sought refuge with the Order of Eternal Night and Solace.

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Lesa Cromwell / Rowhaine - Disciple of Nagash
Graveclaw - Goulking88 (written by DoN with permission from Ghouly)

The months after the battle had been hard for Lesa. The purpose and cause that had driven her for so long was gone, leaving only guilt behind. The attack she had unleashed to aid Vekarin had nearly destroyed her, and a week later she awoke to find herself in the care of Rowhaine.

The Champion of Asaph had rescued her from the field, carrying her with the armies of the Tomb Kings. The skeletal legions were much reduced, and could not have afforded to linger as the realms of men and dwarf prepared to scour the weakened dead from the aftermath.

For many months Lesa rested in Khemri, welcomed thanks to her divine child. She watched with pride as Rowhaine swayed the long dead Kings, showing them that only with progress could they hope to regain the splendour of years past. In turn the Land of the Dead started to once again welcome the living, and finally two years after the destruction of Nagash the Covenant with the Nehekharan gods was forged anew.

Throughout this however, Lesa wandered like a ghost. Rowhaine tried everything he could, but the Lahmian now seemed little more than an empty shell. Month after month this continued, then one day she simply disappeared.

*******

"Wondrous is it not?"

A grunt was the only answer, and for the first time in many months there was the soft tinkling of Lesa's laugh.

"I see you have not changed," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the hunched form of Graveclaw, "but then I would have been disappointed if you had I suppose."

"No changesss," Graveclaw agreed, stalking forward, muscles rippling under his coarse skin, "but you....you changesss."

Not for the first time Lesa remembered that under his bestial manner, Graveclaw was surprisingly astute. Something his enemies often forget at their peril. There was no answer for a while as she watched the clear water shimmer under the pre dawn light.

"It is wondrous," she finally said again, as if Graveclaw had never spoken, "once this was known as the desolation of Nagash. But with the destruction of the metronome, it had an unexpected side effect. One that no one could have seen, not even I." She gestured to the emerald green grass around then, the clear skies of fading stars, "even something that had been twisted and rotting for hundreds of years can be redeemed.....perhaps anything can be redeemed?"

That last was said almost pleadingly, and Graveclaw cocked his head as he regarded the Lahmian.

"What thingsss?" he asked, voice rumbling. Lesa felt his penetrating gaze on her before she glanced up to the skyline. There was just enough time....

Tentatively she began to speak, of her many long years. Of the prophecy of Nagash's rise, meeting Milosh, her betrayal of him and finally her manipulations to create and direct the Council against Nagash. Though the guilt inside threatened to overwhelm her, she would did not stop until the full sordid tale was told. During it all Graveclaw listened silently, as motionless as a statue.

When she finally stopped talking, the silence seemed to swallow everything. The chirp of birds started as they caught sight of the suns rays, before Graveclaw finally spoke.

"Liesss," he hissed, dark eyes glaring at Lesa. His muscles tenses and for a split second the Lahmian thought he would strike. However with a snarl the Strigoi settled back on his haunches, shaking his head.

"Liess hasss hurt Mistressss more than othersss now canss. Hurtss of the soul."

Lesa nodded her had, turning her back on Graveclaw as raised her hand in the dawn. There was only the slight reddening of her skin however, her many years granting her the will to resist the effects.

"I wanted to speak to one of you beforehand, to admit what I had done. I.....I did what I thought was right, for the greater good. I know most will never see it that way, but somehow I knew that you would listen." Looking over her shoulder she gave Graveclaw a wry smile, "one day I am sure you will finally give up this pretence. I know under the façade of the beast there flows the blood of royalty, and I have no doubt that those who think you dim-witted will come to regret this. So many don't even look further than the obvious, such as why should such an animal have the intelligence and will to stand in the light?"

If indeed was an answer, there was not one forthcoming. Graveclaw simply sat in the warming sun, no sign that it was affecting him in anyway. Their eyes met for the last time, and in that final moment he simply nodded his head.

Dipping her head respectfully in return, Lesa turned back to the sun, still caressing its rays. There was one other who she owed an apology to, one that would most likely forgive her in an instant, yet she would never stop trying to make it up to him.

Graveclaw watched as the tips of Lesa's fingers began to blacken, the darkness swiftly spreading down here arms like rot. By the time it had reached her shoulders her fingers had already started to flare and disintegrate.

It took mere moments as Mistress Lesa let her will slip and gave herself fully to embracing sun. For a second her body burned as bright as the sun itself, and then in a gust of wind she was gone, her ashes spiralling into the air and over the lake.

With a grunt Graveclaw rose.....and then rose once more as he straightened his back. In that moment an observer may have thought that not a beast, but a giant of a man stood there, especially if he had heard the last whispered words.

"Until we meet again Mistress."

*************

In the light it was so warm. He was there waiting as she knew he would, and before she could say anything she felt him wrap his arms around here, holding her close in an eternal embrace. He knew everything, she could feel it, yet he was still here.

"Why...?"

"Because I made a promise.........."

 

[Disciple of Nagash]

Mircea von Carstein - Gree

"In the aftermath of his failed attack on Nagash Mircea was badly wounded and despondent. However his get Luke was able to direct several fell bats into retrieving Mircea’s body from the battlefield, evacuating him to the rear lines for healing when Nagash died.

As such Mircea was survived the battle, although grievously wounded by Nagash. For days afterword the few surviving Necromancers in the employ of the Carsteins worked to heal Mircea and pierce him back together. Mircea was in immense pain although his natural regenerative abilities, always some of the highest among the Carsteins, and the Necromancer sorcery helped.

Mircea’s grand army was wrecked and in shambles, but the day was won for the Vampire Council. However most of the army was simply destroyed in the battle with the loss of many valuable wights and other necromancers. The Vampire Lord returned to Slyvania and reorganized what was left of the military forces there, gathering all that he could in a bid to rebuild the armies of the Carsteins after the decimation in the battle against Nagash.

Mircea contemplated taking rulership, however he quickly dismissed that idea in favor of leaving the process of government to Simon and Karl. Instead the Vampire Lord focused his efforts at maintaining Slyvania’s borders and preparing a new set of war plans. Steadily, the Triumvirate rebuilt their power and armies. The Carsteins would eventually strike at the rotting Empire under his proposal."