The season changed. Lush green leaves turned golden yellow and scarlet. The land transformed into a spectacular arboreal inferno. Well, at least the worn patches of brown grass, which passed for vegetation in the Badlands, turned a different shade of brown. Haldor was not into horticulture and none of this concerned him. What did get his attention was the change in the wind. The light passive breeze of the summer was replaced by a strong northerly gale. The winds bought violent lightning storms, fuelled by magic. They also bought hordes of powerful monsters into the Badlands, who were drawn by the surge in the winds of magic. If Haldor could call these monsters to his aid, then surely many victories would follow.
On the advise of Ulfur the Oracle, Haldor marched to Stormhenge to harness its natural affinity with the winds of magic. He took Vragi, a sorcerer devoted to the ways of Tzeentch, to perform the summoning. Vragi also bought his assistant and apprentice, Wermund the humble Chaos fire wizard.
The ritual began. Vragi chanted arcane words into the wind. In return, the wind repeated the verse to every rock, as it weaved its way through Stormhenge. The sky darkened with black clouds, cutting out the sun. Sheet lightning played continuously amongst the clouds, turning the scene below into some schizophrenic disco. Vragi’s words increased in volume and the winds gained strength. Then a new sound appeared on the wind. Elfish words calmed the winds and lightened the sky. As pale light reached the earth, Haldors enemies appeared. Elves and Orges had allied to stop the summoning.
Haldor did not hesitate and led a furious charge into the elven centre, scattering their best troops. Meanwhile Vragi revelled in the magic duel with the elven wizard lord, eventually toasting him in the fires of Tzeentch. He then made short work of another elven wizard, who suffered the same fate. Vragi had no time to restart the summoning spell, as a powerful Ogre wizard engaged him in duel of magic and mind. The ogre wizard was too powerful for Vragi and he was thrown from his arcane fulcrum. He recovered from the fall just in time to see the ogre wizard disappear into swirling purple, blue vortex. Apparently the ogre could not handle the power Vragi had called to the fulcrum from the raging winds of magic. When Vragi climbed back to the fulcum’s summit, there were no enemy wizards left to oppose the summoning spell.
Haldor’s troops were having similar success on the ground and had kept the enemy back from Vragi’s fulcrum. Eventually some Swordmasters did break through, but were repelled by the protective power of the fulcrum. Haldor, who was staining his armour with the blood of another elven warrior, was just reflecting that he could win without the help of monsters. Just then mighty roars echoed around Stormhenge, heralding the arrival of huge, deadly and cruel monsters, who would do Haldors bidding. The enemy fought on bravely for a brief period, but the monsters threatened to turn a defeat into utter destruction. Orges and elves fled the field leaving Haldor and Vragi triumphant. Haldor whipped the blood from his sword on the cloak of a fallen elf. A cruel grin emerged beneath his helmet. It was going to a good season.















