The Story Thus Far...

ar has come to the Great Forest, and the sky has turned black as ash-laden clouds obscure the sun. The forest resounds to the sound of marching feet and clashing steel. The armies of Men, Dwarfs, and Greenskins seek the Nemesis Crown, and smaller hosts from many other races are drawn to the fighting, determined to affect the outcome of the conflict.

The Nemesis Crown has been discovered, yet it was almost immediately lost. First a Dwarf Miner and then a Night Goblin claimed the crown before disappearing, having slaughtered their compatriots. None knows exactly who holds it now, or the terrible powers at work upon its bearer.

The armies of the Empire are mustered while the expert woodsmen of Talebecland are scouring the forest in search of the Goblin who escaped with the crown. The Emperor himself is encamped nearby and leads daily forays against the enemies invading his realm. Karl Franz harbours a desire to return to Altdorf with the crown, to enshrine it within the temple of Sigmar as an artefact as revered as any of the Runefangs.

The Dwarfs are encamped along the Old Dwarf road and have erected mighty fortifications around their camp. Thorgrim himself leads the hunt for the crown, yet a tension is building between Dwarf and Man. Whether or not the old allies will come to blows remains to be seen, though no one is in doubt that a time of great strife is fast approaching, and this oldest of alliances will be tested as never before.

Grimgor leads his vast greenskin horde from his lair in the Middle Mountains. Entire tribes of Forest Goblins crawl through the dark woods at Grimgor's command, seeking out the crown. A network of runners brings news of the hunt to Grimgor; yet few volunteer for the task, for bearers of bad tidings seldom survive Grimgor's wrath.

These are the factions active in the forest in the greatest numbers and with the most hope of gaining the crown. Yet, others are drawn to the conflict, whether through the desire to aid an ally, stymie a rival, or perhaps even to claim the crown for themselves.

The Beastmen have been driven from their ancient lairs in the deepest woods by the conflict, yet now they rally to the fell creature known as Morghur. The Wood Elves have responded to the intrusion of the other races into the deepest glades of the Great Forest by despatching parties to expel any and all invaders. The High Elves lend their aid to the forces of light, while their opportunistic dark kin sow fear and confusion in the name of the Witch King. The forces of the Undead are abroad too - the Vampire Rahtep leading the aristocracy of the night, taking advantage of the bloodshed to swell his shambling legions. Outrageous tales of bone-clad Khemrian ships traversing the Reik by moonlight have been discounted as hysterical rumour.

Whatever their agenda, every race in the world has a stake in the events unfolding in the Great Forest. Whether they seek to use the crown for their own ends or to hide it away so that others may not, to aid allies or simply to profit from the mayhem and bloodshed - the dark earth of the Great Forest shall soon be fed by the blood of those who would claim for themselves the Nemesis Crown!

Wood Elves Initial Despatch

It happened as Karl Franz rode out hunting on his noble steed, Sigismund. The campaign in the Drakwald was not yet far advanced, and the Imperial bodyguard deemed the northern parts of the forest safe for their sovereign to indulge his regal enthusiasms. The hunting had proved poor for the most part, so when the Emperor caught sight of a white stag amid the oaks, he became fixated on running the beast to ground.

Karl Franz spurred forwards, his steed swiftly outstripping those of his courtiers, yet never growing closer to the white stag as the furious pounding of its hooves carried it down the forest trail. He had not travelled more than 600 strides when Sigismund screamed in sudden terror and rose up on its hind legs. Unable to maintain his balance, the Emperor tumbled from the saddle and for a time lay stunned amid the brambles. Recovering his composure, Karl Franz hauled himself to his feet, winded by his fall but otherwise hale of mind and body. All about him, the trees seemed to crowd closer – he was surrounded by a dense wall of root, branch, and bramble. Of steed, stag, and trail, there was no sign; all had vanished into the wood.

"Greetings, your majesty.” Where the Elf had come from, Karl Franz could not tell. One moment he had been alone in the clearing; in the next, the cloaked and robed figure was standing not a handful of strides before him, regarding the Emperor with an amused gaze. Karl Franz tried to speak, but his tongue was leaden in this mouth. He strove to move, but a force unseen held his limbs fast. The Elf bowed his head, a gesture that was greeting and approval in equal parts. When he spoke, he did so in amiable tones.

"I come to you as emissary in these singular times. Though I’m sure it was not intended, your actions have revealed an unexpected path. We walk now upon that path." The Elf's tone grew colder. "Your people and mine can walk upon the same road, both content to acknowledge the other without interference or contempt, even though we walk in different directions and to different goals. We shall not interfere with your purpose unless you obstruct ours. We shall bring you no harm, providing you do not direct your armies against us."

'The choice is yours."

The Elf passed behind Karl Franz, and the Emperor found that he could move once again. He spun around. The emissary was nowhere to be seen, but Sigismund was placidly grazing mere feet away. The forest was suddenly less threatening in aspect, and the undergrowth had receded to reveal the trail the Emperor had followed.

The Emperor's frantic bodyguards found their charge moments later. Though they wondered at his sombre and thoughtful expression, Karl Franz did not speak of his encounter for many days.

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