The Order of the Fiery Gate - An Age of Sigmar Blog

The battle was over. The entire area was wreathed in smog from the guns from the Ironweld artillery machines and the weapons of the Fyreslayers. Having seen the way the battle was going, Ertan the Apostate had quit the field with his disciples, leaving the followers of Tzeentch to their fate. The sorcerer woman - Ania - had been stricken down in a violent volley directed by Lord-Ordinator Ironbrow, though her body could not be found. Her followers - at least those who had not retreated or routed - were slaughtered. What was left of Karnack's followers were quickly cut down or else unaccounted for. Folkvar-Grimnir coughed and wheezed as he hobbled across the battlefield, leaning on his grandaxe for support. He was covered in ash and blood and should have been killed many times over - but still he stood. 'You're alive,' growled a massive orruk encased in red armour rent in a dozen or more places and soaked in his own blood. Folkvar-Grimnir began to laugh, but soon...

The Plain of Sigils, Hysh Grisnakh Toofpulla idly tugged at the chains tethering him to his monstrous mount’s thickly-plated hide. The great, green maw-krusha snorted in irritation, eliciting a scowl from Toofpulla. The orruk pulled hard on the chain this time, about facing the brutish creature so that he could see the army arrayed behind him. Before him stood the strongest of the Toofpullas, the brutality of the orruk tempered in the fires of the Flamescar Plateau and all the horrors and foes it was home to. Before him stood a mighty Waaagh! indeed. But he knew that I would not be enough for what they were about to face. He turned to his left where the Runefather and his kin were arrayed – rank upon rank of duardin ready and eager to wet the blades of their axes with the blood of man and daemon alike. Toofpulla grimaced as the Runefather approached, astride a mount the colour of volcanic glass and blue magma. ‘Your brutes grow restless,’ called Folkvar-Grimnir to Toofpul...

Folkvar-Grimnir found himself in that same dark place his dreams often took him to. In his hand he held a torch, but he had none of his other possessions with him. 'I thought I'd find you here, my little friend,' came a sinister, familiar voice from the impenetrable darkness. He held his torch out at arm's length and took a tentative step forward. A great, winged shadow loomed into view. 'You,' growled Folkvar. 'What do you want now, you thagging great mutant?' 'Now, now,' clucked Karnack, his three avian heads coming into view as he strode forward. 'Still smarting from our last encounter, are we?' 'I'm assuming you're here for some other purpose than to gloat? Or has being a triple-headed chicken wizard become so boring that you've started haunting my dreams?' Karnack threw back his three heads and laughed; shrill and unnatural was the sound. 'I do so enjoy our little chats, Folkva...

Folkvar-Grimnir sat and watched in silence from atop his mount as the combined host of daemons and mortal servants of the dark gods approached. 'The same heathen lot as last time from the look of them,' said Skjor, battlesmith of the Hrukvorn. 'Aye,' replied the Runefather. 'Only this time they're on our land.' Folkvar kicked his heels to Brim's flanks and the beast trudged forward. Coming to a halt at the fore of the berzerker duardin, the magmadroth turned so that Folkvar faced his fyrd. 'SONS OF GRIMNIR,' boomed Folkvar, his grandxe held high and his left hand open as he addressed his men. 'WHEN KHORNE'S BASTARDS RAN RAMPANT ACROSS THESE LANDS AND THE FREE PEOPLE RAN TO AZYRHEIM TO HIND BEHIND THEIR GOD KING – WHO ENDURED?' 'THE FYRESLAYERS!' came the cry from a hundred throats. 'IN WHOSE LANDS DID THE BLOODBOUND FEAR TO TREAD?' 'THE FYRESLAYERS!' 'WHO TAUGHT THE SER...

The Sorrowpeaks, Flamescar Plateau, Aqshy Runemaster Ruadhar squinted down at the piece of parchment he held in his calloused hands, eyes as black as jet glinting in the light of the torches. 'From Ashenhold?' asked the Runemaster. 'From Loremaster Imrael, to be precise,' said Folkvar-Grimnir as he gazed ruefully down at the scrolls arranged on the wartable. 'I'd have taken it for more umgi ravings if it hadn't come from the aelf.' '"The Balemoon waxes and unrest increases,"' read Ruadhar aloud. '"The Brightblade has returned and is keen to pass the Fiery Gate to expunge the 'infidels' within the city. Ironbreakers spread thin, Aurelius manning the Gate personally."' 'A fine mess, by the sounds of things,' groaned Folkvar-Grimnir. 'And here we are – stuck in the Plateau, wiping the Heldenhammer's arse again.' Ruadhar knitted his brow and gave the Runefather a derisi...