Mount And Blade Warband Last Days Of The Third Age

[Yazmín Bohon]

The Three-Eyed King has long awaited this moment, the hour of which his destiny is at last unveiled. He leads an army of madness and rage, against which no sane being would willingly stand. Perhaps I am not sane, as I will fight one last time. Not for victory, but for survival, for the hope that a spark can endure. It is a slender hope, and the laughter of the Dark Gods rings loud in my ears... These are the End Times..."

To the west, in the distant lands of Naggaroth, the followers of Khorne descended southwards with black banners high, hell-bent on leaving nothing but ruin and destruction in their wake. In response, legions of Dark Elven warriors were roused to the warpath, holding out against the blood-crazed hordes that assailed their very gates. Yet for all their pride and glamour they inevitably failed, for their king, Malekith, abandoned them to enact one final gamble to reclaim his birthright as Phoenix King of Ulthuan.[1c]

But even within the lands of Malekith's birth, the island-continent of Ulthuan was engulfed in a time of peril and tragedy. A mist of dreadful power swept across the High Elves' beautiful land, summoning forth Daemons and other foul things from the very bowels of Chaos itself. With their beloved Everqueen gone and their proud Phoenix King dead, a young Asur prince, Tyrion, rose through the ranks to lead his people through this time of conflict, setting up a chain of events that forever tore that mighty kingdom apart.[1d]

Farther to the south-west, within the distant lands of Lustria in the New World, the massive jungle-realm of the Lizardmen empire, a new and deadly conflict was reignited after centuries of peace. Re-emerging from the bowels of the earth, the hordes of the Skaven's Clan Pestilens and all the temple-cities of the Lizardmen fought in one final apocalyptic war that ended in total annihilation.

In the east, the prospect of battle brought about by the end of the world stirred the Greenskins into a frenzy. The Greenskins have always thrived on war, always fighting each other as much as any other foe. However, a sudden urge soon captured the simple minds of their savage race as they felt something big brewing in the north. Soon, the infighting that had plagued their long and arduous history vanished, and an overwhelming urge to combine under one banner united the Greenskin race like never before for the coming world-ending conflict.[1i]

Even the Dwarfs, stout allies of the Empire and Sigmar's people, felt this encroaching doom. They saw the volcanic fires spew forth from the Mountains of Mourn, resulting in the call for massive military mobilisation on a scale not seen since the time of the Great Catastrophe. Soon, artefacts of old were rediscovered, and the Dwarfs stood ready to summon forth the Ancestor Gods themselves into this world, as they hope to bring about a new Golden Age for their people.[1h]

But it is upon the Human realms of the Old World that the fate of this world truly lies. Everywhere one looks, all of Mankind is beset by evil forces, both old and new. In the southern realms of Tilea and Estalia, the mortals of those distant, fractious realms were beset by nightmarish hordes of ratmen from the depths of the world below. Entire cities were lost as the Skaven once more invaded in order to begin their Great Ascendancy and summon forth their foul deity, the Horned Rat, to usher in the downfall of the surface world.[1g]

Upon the western shores of the Old World, the kingdom of Bretonnia was torn to ruin as a civil war engulfed the once proud knights of this feudal realm. In the course of this conflict, two ancient secrets were revealed: one saved their kingdom from utter destruction, and the other revealed a truth that shattered their nation, their people, and their very faith.[1g]

As the world drew its last dying breath, refugees by the tens of thousands began to flow like a river towards the Empire, the last bastion of defiance against the doom that sought to destroy them all. To the north, in the lands of Kislev, the Auric Bastion, the greatest magical wall ever created, loomed higher than even the Great Bastion in eastern Grand Cathay, so high that it pierced the clouds themselves. This great wall was the only thing holding the darkness at bay and, when it fell, the final battle for the entire world took place. To the victors would go the ultimate prize: the dominion of the Known World.[1e]

In the end, however, despite the valiant effoprts of its inhabitants, the mortal world was doomed, and from the ashes of the old, a new world emerged out of the darkness left behind in the void, following a cycle of creation and destruction that had been long in the making...

The Known World stands on the brink of annihilation. It has done so since the beginning of time, when the great Old Ones were destroyed long ago. The polar Warp Gates of the Old Ones, once a marvel of ancient technology, have collapsed, and through them the energies of Chaos have flowed like water into the cold harsh lands of the northern and southern wastes. Since then, every few hundred years, the Chaos Gods would reach out their hands towards this dying world and demand a claim of it as their own. So it is fitting that a Champion of Chaos shall unite the warring tribes of the north and bring about the end of time as we know it.

The threat of Chaos came in many shapes and forms, from the mutating Winds of Magic, to the barbarian hordes of the north, to the vile Beastmen tribes that lurked within the dark forest of the Old World. However, it is the corruption of souls -- the pollution of ideals and dreams -- that was its most subtle and deadliest weapon, for within every mortal breast lurks the heart of Chaos. It is perhaps fitting then that the greatest threat to the Empire came not from a Kurgan warlord, nor a Beastman chieftain, but from one of their very own.

This man held the name of Diederick Kastner, a highly devout and zealous Sigmarite templar of the Order of the Twin-Tailed Orb, born scant few years after Magnus the Pious and the first Great War against Chaos. Though Kastner was born as an Imperial in the province of Nordland, it was foretold in the Liber Caelistior, the dread Book of Divination penned by Necrodomo the Insane, that North and South would meet in the Everchosen's blood. And indeed this was so, for he was of both Norscan and Nordlander heritage; his father being a champion from the Varg tribes who forced himself upon a cowering innocent during a raid that saw his birth-village of Hargendorf burnt to the ground in 2390 IC.[7a] With the death of his mother and the hatred of his step-father for his origins, the rape-spawned child would later go on to be adopted by a local Sigmarite priest and become a templar of the Order of the Twin-Tailed Orb,[7b] fighting valorously and faithfully in the service of the God-King Sigmar. But once his true heritage and destiny were revealed to him, Diederick Kastner despaired and looked for salvation, travelling many miles towards the heart of his faith.[6a]

At the massive Holy Temple of Sigmar in Altdorf, the cursed templar knelt before the Golden Statue of Sigmar and begged for a sign, to ask Sigmar for relief from the darkness that had come to consume him whole. But the golden statue stood silent, and with its unspoken words, the Templar knew that all was hopeless. He renounced the gods of the South but still affirmed his hatred for the dark gods of his father, accepting the cruel destiny engineered for him as a means to repay the Fates for the evil they had done to him.

Thus did Kastner become Archaon the Everchosen: the Three-Eyed King, greatest of all the champions of Chaos. His deeds legend and his armies vast, innumerable foes of dauntless might laid bleeding in his calamitous stride. But deep inside, he wholly resented the Gods of Chaos and the misery they had brought upon him. Thus the half-Norscan warlord stood ready to fulfill his destiny and to usher in the end of all things. In the very end, he would come once again to face the very god of his people, of all Mankind.[6a]

"Forged from the other world, six treasures shall he possess... Upon his head the crown shall see all, and open eyes will prove woe to mortal kind... Then shall he ride unto the World... Then will the World know that the last war has begun..."

The first treasure he sought was a unique "Mark of Chaos" that bore the blessings of all four powers in unison. It combined all of the advantages of individual Marks of Chaos, gifting the bearer the patronage of all the Chaos Gods. The first part of Archaon's dark quest was to go to the Altar of True Darkness in Naggaroth and offer himself to gain their favour and recognition. He gathered a small band of Chaos Warriors he called the Swords of Chaos and battled his way to a citadel so tall it appeared to pierce Morrslieb itself. The inside of the citadel was said to be blacker than even the heart of a Dark Elf's soul, for when one of Archaon's followers attempted to light a torch, it was snuffed out at once by the all-consuming darkness. Archaon was unafraid, however, and marched into the darkness with only his steed. As he continued to march, foul creatures threw themselves upon the would-be Everchosen. As his loyal steed was consumed by these monsters, the death of a loyal friend he had known since his early years as a squire threw Archaon into a killing frenzy. Abandoning all restraint, he slew hundreds of the misshapen monsters that infested the mighty citadel, until his sword-arm finally turned numb and the ground grew slippery with the blood and gore of the fallen. Rising up from the filth, Archaon reconsecrated the altar for the Gods of Chaos, offering up the hearts of the creatures that had crawled in and defiled it. Once he emerged, he bore the eternally burning Mark of Chaos on his forehead.[6a]

The next artifact he sought was the "Armour of Morkar," the armour worn by the very first Everchosen. It granted the wearer invulnerability to all but the most powerful of attacks, making them nigh-unstoppable in the heat of combat. After leaving Naggaroth on a stolen ship made of black metal and pulled by a massive sea-drake, Archaon took leadership of a seafaring war-band along the way to his destination. Together they sailed to a mysterious land populated with savage half-humans. Neither sun nor moon had ever touched their pallid skin and after six days and six nights of battle after battle, the city of these creatures had been reduced to rubble. Archaon then delved deep into their shattered necropolis until he found the Tomb of Morkar and the armour he sought. However, as Archaon reached out to take it, the spirit of Morkar himself animated the armour and attacked him. The vengeful spirit laid down a relentless flurry of blows until Archaon in fury and desperation cursed it in the language of the Unberogen tribe. Morkar drew back for but an instant but an instant of hesitation was all Archaon required, and he smashed it aside, banishing the spirit of Morkar and allowing him to claim the armour as his own.[6a]

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