Slaughter at Volganof

The Slaughter of Volganof was a series of events that occurred within the Imperial province of Ostland, when the dreaded Lord Mortkin lay siege to the city of Volganof.

Overview
The Empire would soon come into a terrible reckoning with the Lord of the Fell Legion in 2515 IC. However, in order to fully understand those events, one must go further back and examine the events of the 3 years prior. In 2515 IC, the Realm of Chaos waxed and spread. The savage Norsemen, seeing this as the sign of the favour of their Dark Gods, began to once again to spill out of the North to ravage the civilized lands of the south. The only warnings of their raids were the harsh blaring of warhorns and bellowed oaths to cruel gods. The Northmen tore their way through the lands of Kislev and soon came upon the Empire, burning cities and towns and turning aside whole armies. Their attacks grew even more deadly in the coming years, and the longships of the Chaos Marauders began streaming in greater numbers from Norsca when the ice broke, ravaging the coastlands of the Empire. In response, the Imperial Navy sent an armada of warships to the Sea of Claws to stem the tide of raiders, and in addition, Nordland redoubled its coastal patrols. However, it was Ostland that took the most aggressive steps of all.

Led by Elector Count Valmir von Raukov and his son and heir, Oleg von Raukov, the province of Ostland girded itself for war. Valmir von Raukov, a war-like man by nature, had suggested the unthinkable - to launch reprisal raids into the lands of the Enemy, into the unholy lands of Norsca just as as Sigmar himself had done in ages past. With a new, massive army of mustered state-troops, Valmir led the raids in 2513, putting several coastal towns of Norsca to the torch. Valmir's raids, for all their bluster, did not manage to penetrate very far inland, and were primarily contained to the Norscan coastline. There, his armies managed to put several Norse villages to the sword.

His son, Oleg, had perhaps exceeded his father in that regard, having destroyed many settlements along the Norscan coast as well; among them were the coastal towns of Aarvik and Ulfennik. Valmir and his heir returned late in the year with the carven prows of longships and the beams of a greathall to mark to destruction of 7 Norscan villages. Much of the Empire, noble and commoner alike, toasted the accomplishments of the von Raukovs, announcing Valmir as a true hero of Sigmar's realm. Others however, protested, fearing that these audacious attacks would draw the ire of the Norsemen, or worse, that of their Dark Gods.

But what followed in the year 2515 still causes a shudder to those who survived...

The Attacks of 2515
In this year, the attacks on the Empire were unlike anything seen in recent memory. The roiling storms within the Realm of Chaos burst forth with unbridled fury. The skies blazed with multi-coloured lightning, searingly vibrant against the oncoming blackness. Spring meltings brought a wave of northern barbarians, although in fact this was little more than the displaced tribes that had been driven away by the growing wars further north.

Encouraged by the rampant Winds of Chaos, more attacks followed. Any army descended from Norsca across the Sea of Claws. It set towns along the coasts ablaze, but was neither large nor bold enough to threaten the major cities and keeps. Another even larger host plunged southwards on a broad front into Kislev, causing a swathe of destruction. Although much momentum dissipated in the endless steppes, some of the farflung warbands of that wave bypassed the border forts of Ostland and caused much havoc in that province. The third attack was led by Prince Sigvald the Magnificent.

Sigvald's army blazed through Kislev and into Ostland on a three month rampage until it was finally blunted at the Battle of the Temple of Skulls. A coalition of many Imperial states had come to aid the beleaguered province of Ostland, who, beset by so many dangers had put forth a call for help. But these attacks were just a foreshadowing of what was to come.

The Heart of the Invasion
The most powerful thrust, the true black-heart of the invasion, followed hard on the heels of its forerunners. This was no warm-weathered raid, content merely to plunder the rich lands of the south. At its head was Lord Mortkin, a favoured scion of Chaos, a king of kings and leader of many tribes. This horde of iron-bound warriors, barbaric tribes, and hell-spawned Daemons was the most powerful army to cross the borders of the Empire in an age. Fear ran before the Chaos host and in their wake was left only smouldering ruin and grisly tributes to their bloodthirsty gods. It seemed that naught could stem this evil tide and that a new era of darkness was about to descend upon the Old World...

They Came from the North
Past Troll Country, and far into the Northern Wastes there reside barbaric tribes divided into factions beyond counting. In 2515, these warriors united under a single banner and began an epic tale of devastation and invasion.

War at the Top of the World
Near the Polar Gates the landscape writhed as supernatural beings strained against the ever-thinning veil between them and reality. So great was the surge of magical power that pure energy leaked through the barrier. Those attuned to magic suffered waking visions, and beguiling assurances of immortality could be heard by those willing to listen. Armies congregated, drawn to the promise of eternal glory. Under tormented skies the contest for domination raged. The Champions of Chaos were pitted against each other in a battle for ultimate power. Sorcerers, fuelled by limitless energy, unleashed titanic magics. The unending War of the Realm of Chaos had spilled through into the lands of Men. The free-for-all slaughter amused the gods. Yet no mortal yet stepped forward to claim mastery over the gathering hordes.

Who Will Rise to Lead Them?
Amongst the mightiest of dark champions, several did not join the tumultuous clash. Archaon and his elite followers, the Swords of Chaos, were away in the Worlds Edge Mountains, seeking long-lost artefacts. Quixiom, the three-headed Sorcerer and favoured of Tzeentch, had shapeshifted so that he might dwell in far-off cities of men and was currently studying under the Daemon-aided sorcerers of Araby. Lord Mortkin, the Black-iron Reaver, was mired in glowering gloom.

Knowledge of the Empire's reprisal attacks along the coast of Norsca had travelled throughout the Northern Wastes. Some tribes howled in rage and indignation, others welcomed the attacks, pleased to fight against men anxious for battle. Lord Mortkin, leader of the Fell Legion, and ruler of many warriors, had not spoke since hearing of the raids. By chance, the coastal town of Ulfennik, the place he had once called home, had been razed to the ground. Locking himself away, he brooded deep within his fortress of blackest iron.

It is said that in a bitter fury Lord Mortkin made a pact with the Chaos Gods. When he emerged from his self-imposed solitude, he did so with a single-minded purpose. Lord Mortkin strode forth, with the full might of the Fell Legion, to stop the aimless fighting, unite the hordes of Chaos and lead them southwards to destroy the weakling nations of men. To aid his dread cause, a host of Daemons, under the command of the Bloodthirster Kargharak, emerged at his flank. Lord Mortkin's forces arrived upon the battlefield and began to lay waste to all who would not bow before him.

Zakhar, the Master of the Coven of the Eternal Eye, was the first to join, maintaining that he had seen the gods promise victory to Lord Mortkin. This was an easy claim to believe, for Lord Mortkin smashed the other champions aside with ease. Already at his bidding marched a legion of black-armoured warriors, a host of Daemons and even a mighty Dragon flew to join his cause. Lord Hackbile quickly followed Zakhar, pledging his Plague Army to Lord Mortkin. Many lesser lords and barbarian kings also bent a knee to their new leader, but others defied and were soon destroyed. After eight days of butchery, Lord Mortkin led a unified host southwards.

Kislev in Flames
As the separate armies under Lord Mortkin began their advance they continued to absorb barbaric tribes and newly materialised Daemons into their number. Those who refused to join were crushed or driven before the oncoming host.

The lands of Kislev, still covered in melting snow, were beset by displaced reavers. The countryside was aflame as warbands laid waste to all they encountered. Many nomadic horse-tribes were able to keep on the move, avoiding danger for a while, but the discordant warbands were so numerous and widespread that no few of the horsemen were trapped. Hemmed in on all sides, their blood soon warmed the icy ground.

Through the maelstrom of raiders marched a formidable spearhead, an army that angled directly for Ostland. In the ruins of the scorched town of Tzeskagrad, Lord Mortkin paused the endless columns and commanded Zkhar to perform the Ritual of the Shrivelled Hands, an accursed spell that would help locate the Beastmen and summon them to war.

The Beasts of the Woods
Heeding the voices of his daemonic advisors, Lord Mortkin wished to re-establish the old bond with the Children of Chaos, the Beastmen. Messengers rode out to seek what lay hidden in the twisted forests. Pointed along trackless paths by sinister shrivelled hand talismans taken from the doomed people of Tzeskagrad, the messengers rode in search of Ul-Ruk the Red, chieftain of the largest warherd in the Forest of Shadows.

Before the herd's trophy mound, riders presented the hundreds of shrivelled hands to three cowled Bray-Shamans. The Bray-Shamans foresaw darkling dreams of slaughter and nodded ascent to their leader. With a thunderous bellow, Ul-Ruk summoned the warherd. Within days many cloven hoofs marched northwards to join Lord Mortkin's forces.

Heading Straight for Ostland
Lord Mortkin held his horde together, allowing none to stray. The whispered Daemon-counsel of his many advisors told him how best to cripple the Empire, but Lord Mortkin had other ideas and heeded naught but his own plan.

Pending...

Source

 * : Warhammer Fantasy Battles Core (8th Edition)
 * : pg. 452
 * : pg. 453
 * : pg. 454
 * : pg. 455

[[Category:S]] [[Category:V]]