(CW: Very dark material at certain points, especially in the opening section which includes accounts of sadism and torture. Please proceed at your own discretion.)

A chill wind descended from the heavens as a cart approached a tower-city clad in shadow, built at the bottom of a cold canyon surrounded by mountains that pierced the clouds. Its inhabitant, an abducted Asur Shadow Warrior, looked around in terror from within his cage as he passed the entrance to the city’s mining complexes that carved out great expanses of the neighbouring structure of rock, their occupants looking more dead than alive as they toiled away in the work. Before long, the cart’s driver took him through the city’s awe-inspiring gates where he saw more Druchii soldiers there than he had ever seen before, even in the most heated of battlefields. Whole legions of guards stood at the ready, their eyes still like ice.

The cart entered the city, up winding passageways lit only by purple flame for the sun dare not shine here and round bends with the flayed bodies of its lords’ enemies hanging prominently until finally, the cart stopped and Isilvar opened the lock. The Aesanar refused to move, gripping onto the cage’s rails for safety but that was short lived as four witch elves approached and threatened to remove his fingers and toes then and there if he continued to protest. The Asur complied, a decision he would surely come to regret as Isilvar’s followers proceeded to drag his body into a side-entrance to his new home. The guards took him deep below the mansion and pushed him into a dungeon without light or windows. There he laid for some minutes, his hands and feet bound as rested on his side, his nose only a few inches away from some mouse droppings. He swore he could smell the distinct traces of burnt hair there too. Still the Aesanar held steadfast in his faith, clinging to his values as he prayed to Loec for salvation.

“You won’t find any gods down here…not unless you’re searching for Mirai.” A voice echoed from the darkness ahead of him as the clattering of heeled boots made their way down a flight of steps. The High Elf sat up in anticipation, his eyes drawn into the blackness, the hairs on his neck raised and his forearms trembling as bitter words passed over him like frostbite. Suddenly, his captor came into view as she held green-glowing lantern in her hands. “Hello Asur, my name is Yasmir. I’ve waited a long time for this meeting. Shall we get started?” the witch made a hand gesture and a pair of her handmaidens entered close behind her, carrying in a table with various sharpened instruments before promptly leaving the Witch Elf Matriarch and her captive alone once more. Yasmir placed the warpstone lantern on the table, clearly illuminating all the various grizzly torture instruments and satchels before proceeding to remove a barbed whip from the table.

*Crack* *crack* *crack* Yasmir lashed the whip at his chest and arms, her howls of laughter overpowering the elf’s screams of anguish as his body shook hither and to with each strike that tore through his skin.

“Stop! Stop!” the Aesanar cried but the Witch Elf only moved onto her next device. She placed the whip back on the table and picked up an iron coil in the approximate shape of a pear. The Aesanar’s eyes widened, the first signs of tears pricking from his eyelids as Yasmir approached. The High Elf attempted to shuffle away, dragging his body over in vain as his bound feet and hands behind his back prevented him from getting into a standing position. Yasmir only smiled as she grabbed the elf’s head and pulled it back, forcing his mouth open as she shoved the instrument into the open cavity. He wanted to spit it out, he tried all he could to remove the invasive tool but she only pushed the device further, tangling it past his tongue and into opening recesses of his throat. From there, Yasmir began cranking a wheel on the the end of the device sticking out of his mouth and the contraption within began to expand, growing wider and larger as it pressed against the walls of his mouth. The device grew bigger and bigger, forcing him to gag as his reflex was triggered at which point the witch elf let go and left the device in his mouth. From there, she returned to the table and pulled out a pair of the oldest tools known to any civilised species. A hammer and a nail. The High Elf panicked and attempted to kick at her with his feet, all while the pear-shaped object continued to protrude from his mouth and keep him choking. Yasmir merely stepped over his flailing feet and pressed her boot on his left thigh, forcing his leg to the ground where she continued to hover the nail over his left knee.

The High Elf shrieked in horror as choking turned to regurgitating. His fear forcing his puke to the front of his lips. Fearing that he might die of his own excretions before she was done with him, the Dark Elf removed the pear from his mouth. The Aesanar ejected all over the dungeon floor around him, before once again turning to beg his captor for mercy. “Alatar! My name is Alatar! Please stop! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” he teared up.

The Witch Elf merely looked at him in a confused manner, her eyebrows twitching for a moment. “Whoever said I wanted to know anything? You’re not in the markets of Karond Kar anymore, pet. The only value you hold, is whatever I choose to do with you.”

“Please.” Alatar whimpered. “Please stop. I know people who can compensate you or… or… let me serve you in some other way. Please. Please by the Gods… just stop. Anything else!”

“You want to be let go, don’t you?” Yasmir inquired.

Alatar nodded with tears running down his cheeks. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“And how, may I inquire, do you plan to leave my home without a set of working feet?” Yasmir cackled sarcastically as she threw the nail aside and raised her hammer high before bringing it swinging down on the Aesanar’s right foot. She pounded away at him, banging over and over as his toes bent out of shape and the bones within his foot shattered. Once the foot went numb, Yasmir did the same to the left, all while Alatar continued to scream and dribble from his mouth.

When Yasmir had finally had her fun and his feet were dealt with, she moved over to the table to retrieve a bag of sea salt, a bag she proceeded to sprinkle over his wounds as he tried once last-ditch effort to find reason from the Druchii.

“Please. Please stop. If you do this, it will destroy your life. Every time you close your eyes, you will see my face there. I will be in your nightmares every night. Your whole life. I will be there forever.”

Yasmir stared at him half-heartedly before picking up a knife in the round shape of a sickle from her table. She knelt by his waist side and stroked the fabric of the tunic covering his crotch with one hand as the other hand holding the knife dangled just above it. She let out a confident grin. “Trust me. I’m counting on that….”
__________________________________________________________________

One week later.

“So that’s Hag Graef. It doesn’t look like much.” The archmage Belthania remarked, looking upon the canyon from afar behind a series of rocks alongside her shadow walker companions.

“The shadows hide its true size. Believe me when I say we don’t want to get lost in there.” The Shadow King answered. “Any recommendations, Hand?” Alith asked his second in command.

“We could scale the mountain range, keep out of view from the city’s watchtowers. Find a way to drop into the city from there. If we scout it properly beforehand, it could take as little as three weeks.”

“No.” Alith countered. “Alatar is in there. We break him out, tonight.”

“How?” the Hand asked.

“The mines. Their tunnels cross every district of the city and the mountains beyond. If we can get into those tunnels from the outside, we can use them to get in.”

“With respect my lord, getting into those tunnels won’t be the difficult part. It will be getting out. Those labyrinths are home to beasts of all kind and are routinely patrolled by Shades. Not even we can maintain stealth in there.” The Hand of the Shadow Crown argued.

“There has to be a way… something we can leverage.” Alith Anar wondered to himself for a moment, scanning the landscape ahead before turning to see that Belthania had gone off to light a mushroom behind the rocks while he was talking to his Hand. She sat there sucking on the mushroom in total bliss. Her pupils dilated as the rings around her eyes turned red, her pulse slowed, her worries lifted and the pain from her injuries subsided. As Belthania sat there at peace, Alith looked over at the contents of her bag and had an idea…

______________________________________________________________________

That night the contingent of some 140-strong Shadow Walkers led by Alith Anar, the Hand of the Shadow Crown and Belthania at their fore made their approach toward Hag Graef, sticking to rocky passageways and tall grass under the cover of darkness as well as the archmage’s Ulgu-based incantations.

“I cannot believe we’re doing this.” The Hand noted as they approached one of the many outer entrances to the mining complex. “You really think that drugging the guards is a viable strategy to get us inside? How do we even know that a happy Druchii isn’t one who’s more likely to kill us?”

“Tilean Pondweed, my friend. It’s a common ingredient inside happiness potions. I’ve taken it before with some of my former lovers when we wanted to spice things up…works a treat for making one more suggestable to new experiences.” Belthania replied, whispering as they drew nearer.

“Great. We’re working off the anecdotes of a witch’s sex habits… and no, I’m not your friend.” The Hand scowled below his breath. “I don’t know why the Shadow King listens to you.”

“Well he does so maybe you should get used to that. I’ve brought you this far haven’t I?”

“Hmmpphh. Proper thought-out tactics and planning could have prevented many casualties in the process. I lost over a hundred of my brothers at Slaver’s Point and here you are, making a mockery of their memories and rushing our king into rash decisions.”

“Hhhssssshhhh” Alith interrupted. “We’re here.”

The Shadow Walkers entered the labyrinth of mining tunnels, pacing along as silent as the grave to evade detection. They soon came across the men who toiled away in these places… well, calling them men would be generous. The miners stood in abject darkness, grinding against the walls of their tunnels with hooks and picks, their eyes transfixed with bloody scabs over their hands and knuckles as chunks of Warpstone grew out of their shoulders, knees and underarms. Even if they could see the Shadow Walkers passing by them, they probably wouldn’t notice or care. Indeed, some labourers’ bodies were so withered and old that the Shadow King assumed they were already dead and were simply being kept animated by the magical veins that flowed through this place.

The company continued along their path for around twenty minutes before finally coming across the first of the tunnels’ guards. With a simple hand motion, Alith instructed his men to do their job. A pair of shadow walkers tip-toed forward under the guise of Belthania’s illusory magic, carrying with them samples of the archmage’s pondweed. They drew ever closer to the guard until they were right in front of him. Belthania lifted her magic and the two pounced on him, forcing the hallucinogen inside his mouth. ….

◙ Laugh React: The Hand of the Shadow Crown was correct. A happy Dark Elf and a hostile Dark Elf are usually one and the same. The Guard roared his battlecry before either of the shadow walkers could silence him and within minutes an entire legion of Druchii came advancing into the tunnels, signalled by one guard to another and so on. Hopelessly outnumbered and with the element of surprise shattered, Alith Anar gave the order to retreat.

….

The guard devoured the weed and became compliant, dropping to his knees before curling up into a deep, restful slumber after an exceedingly long shift without fear of his superior’s beatings. Realising this could work, the Shadow King and his troops proceeded deeper into the tunnels, knowing well enough that the deeper they went, the more difficult it would be to flee from the city’s battalions.

The next guard they came across was a Shade. However, no drugs were needed this time as the Shadow King struck him with an arrow from his Moonbow before the Druchii even saw him. They used pondweed on the next guard however. This time the guard reached down for a chunk of warp stone and began chewing on it incessantly. The next guard was another sleep-deprived one as was the next and the next thereafter.

Before long the Shadow Walkers had come across around 30 guards and shades, each of which were either promptly struck by an arrow or given a taste of Belthania’s concoctions. Some drugged guards surprised the High Elves in all honestly. A few started dancing, one began to recite poetry… another began furiously masturbating. Still the quest continued until the Aesanars found themselves faced by something which couldn’t be drugged or killed with a single shot of a bow.

There ahead of them in the tunnel was an Arachnarok Spider, chipping away at the walls of the caves as it gorged itself on warpdust. Alith waved to go back, they would find another tunnel into the city centre.

Alas however, fate had other plans as Belthania’s skirts accidentally knocked over a stone around her feet as she was trying to turn around. The spider heard the stone’s movements and became alert, sniffing all around as it leapt onto the ceiling and scuttled in the High Elves’s direction until it hovered just above them. Everyone held their breath, hoping to evade detection as the spider hoisted itself lower on its web, bringing its jaws so close that Belthania had to drop from a crouching position to lying down just to keep her hairpiece from brushing against the spider’s mandibles. The spider sniffed intently until it detected the faintest whiff of perfume.

….

◙ Angry React: The Arachnarok detected Belthania and dropped down before going into a frenzy. The Archmage’s spell lowered, and the group began fighting the spider, firing hundreds of arrows at it as its legs flailed in all directions, sending them flying. The ensuing ruckus notified the guards and the Dark Elves descended, bringing with them scores of elite troops and crossbowmen.

The Shadow Walkers and the Shadow King continued to fend off the beast, firing arrows into its eyes but this only enraged the now-blinded beast even more. As they fought, Belthania attempted to cast a magical barrier to keep the Druchii at bay only for this to be proved fruitless when the Dark Elves’ own sorceresses arrived to clear the obstruction. Dozens of close ranks of darkshards and shades fired their crossbows into the small space, killing Aesanar in their droves. The arachnarok struck, spitting out volleys of webbing that incapacitated whole groups before also spewing noxious venom on the ground that crippled the warriors’ mental faculties. The Hand of the Shadow Crown was eaten then and there, Belthania was shot through the chest by a Darkshard, even Alith Anar eventually fell in sustained melee against countless odds. Once the Druchii were victorious, they left the bodies of their foes there to be digested by the Arachnarok. There were a few Shadow Walkers that managed to escape though even they were marked by the spider’s scent which would surely arouse harpies or worse predators as soon as they escaped into the outside world.

….

The spider was on the verge of detecting the archmage and her allies. However, just as it was about to leap down it suddenly heard something off in the distance.

“Whose crossbow is that? I think I know.

Its owner is full of joy like a vivid rainbow,

I watch him laugh. I cry hello.

He gives his crossbow a shake,

And laughs until his belly aches.

The only other sound’s the break,

Of distant waves and birds awake.

The crossbow is powerful, piercing, and deep,

But has promises to keep,

After his watch and lots of sleep.

Steady dreams will come to him cheap.

He rises from his gentle bed,

With thoughts of slaughter in his head,

He eats his fish with lots of bread.

Ready for the day ahead.”

The intoxicated guard that enjoyed reciting poetry was near, near enough to arouse the arachnarok’s attention. The spider returned to the ceiling and skittered off in search of its next meal, leaving the cloaked High Elves behind with a clear way into Hag Graef.

The Aesenar made their way into the streets of the Dark Crag, travelling silently uphill in search of the Darkblade household. Suddenly, the city’s bells began to sound. Either one of the guards’ dosages had worn off or their supervisor had caught them dozing off but either way, the conclusion was the same. The Druchii knew there were intruders and would soon arrive in their thousands to finish them off.

“What are we going to do?” Belthania asked in frightened shock.

“Guard the entrance to the tunnel. Without that we stand no chance of surviving.” Alith ordered his Hand. “I will find Alatar and rendezvous with you here.”

“Alright but be quick, sir!” the Hand replied.

“I’ll come with you!” Belthania cried.

“No! We need you to provide shielding.” The Hand of the Shadow Crown told the Archmage.

“He’s right. Good luck to you.” Alith Anar concluded as he ran off.

“And to you, sir!” the Hand sounded.

“But you shouldn’t do this alone!” Belthania groaned as the Shadow King ran off, ignoring her pleas.

_________________________________________________________________

Alith Anar darted and dove up the various towers and spires of Hag Graef, dodging incoming bolts until finally, he reached the mansion he was looking for as he burst through its doors.

Alith ran through the opening halls and corridors as fast as he could, slaying any guards along the way with a single brush of his sword before he came barging into the mansion’s central area.

“Welcome home. We’ve been expecting you.” Alith heard as he gazed up at Yasmir, laying resplendent in an indigo-silk dress on her throne at the back of the room… a dress Alith could swear had something moving beneath it. “I believe some introductions are in order. Meet my dear siblings. My younger sister Nagaira” Yasmir spoke as a voluptuous sorceress entered the room from a side entrance. Alith could tell from the strange jewellery she wore and the markings along her body alone that this sorceress was a heretic, even by the Druchii’s low standards “and my brother Urial.” Yasmir announced as a rare male priest of Khaine reared his head up from under her gown, his face warm with excitement.

“Brotherly love?” Alith questioned.

“Something like that. Even Druchii need allies in these troubling times.” Yasmir replied straight-faced, betraying that her brother had more to gain emotionally-speaking from this arrangement than she did. “You just missed Isilvar I’m afraid. He’s away on business now.”

“I don’t care. Where is Alatar? If you’ve hurt him I swear-“

“Oh, rest assured we have.” Yasmir replied.

“Then we have nothing left to discuss.” Alith Anar finished.

The Shadow King drew his Moonbow and loosed an arrow straight at Yasmir. Nagaira intercepted the arrow with her magic, drawing a barrier within the air as Urial descended sword in hand and Yasmir tore off her gown, revealing her witch elf’s attire as well as a pair of bone-hilted daggers. The two siblings leapt into combat.

….

◙ Wow React: Alith attempted to fire off another arrow, this time at Urial but once again it was redirected, this time by a gush of wind caused by Nagaira’s magic. The Shadow King tried to draw his bow toward the sorceress but to no avail as the two siblings entered melee. The two approached Alith with Yasmir flailing wildly with her daggers while Urial aimed for more precise attacks. Alith did all he could to keep them at bay, parrying their blows with his bow while landing some slashes in with his own blade but he soon found himself overwhelmed by their relentless attacks, even more so once he realised Nagaira was circling around him, biding her time.

The duelling went on for some more seconds as the melee duellists went to and fro until finally, Urial landed a blow on the Shadow King’s left forearm. This was what Nagaira had been waiting for as she delved into her knowledge of the darkest arts and produced an Enrapturing Spasms spell. Out of seemingly nowhere the gash from Urial’s blade on Alith’s arm began to convulse and shake. The wound grew as blood began spurting rapidly from the wound. Furthermore, the spell caused the Shadow King to lose proper control of his arm, leaving him in trouble as he dropped his famous Moonbow on the floor.

He continued to fight with his other arm, swinging his blade as best as he could but he found himself sorely disadvantaged against the two aggressors, fighting with only one arm as his other one continued to shake all over the place, causing Nagaira to laugh with joy from afar as she hunched over a couch. The fighting went on back and forth until finally, Yasmir’s daggers hit true, she sliced through the Prince of Nagarythe’s right kneecap.

Alith stumbled back, letting out a long sigh as Yasmir looked on bemused. “Well? Come on then. Fall to your knees.” Urial teased.

“You really do have some spirit, don’t you? It’s a shame your ward never inherited any of that bravery. Did I tell you how he begged me to stop? How he cried and screamed for me to let him keep his life and his manhood? It was pathetic. You are all pathetic. Your whole kind. Why you insist on fighting for them when you’re so clearly one of us I doubt I will ever understand. Now, brother would you mind helping our Shadow guest find the floor?” Yasmir mocked.

“With pleasure.” Urial enthused as he kicked Alith Anar back onto the floor with his clubfoot.

The Shadow King smacked onto the floor, his head cracking on impact with a thud. “Why? Why are you doing this? Hurting Alatar won’t bring your brother back.” Alith claimed, lying distressed on the ground unable to stand back up.

“You still think this is about Malus?” Nagaira laughed from her seated position.

“We should be thanking you, really. The untimely demises of Bruglir and Malus meant we finally had a chance of our own.” Urial interjected.

“And besides, is it not enough to want the glory of slaying one of your nation’s greatest adversaries?” Yasmir asked rhetorically. “You’ve come a long way King of Shadows but I am afraid this is the end.” The witch elf reached down and sliced through Alith Anar’s throat, killing him once and for all.

….

(Prelude to Sad and Love React)

Having seen the sorceress deflect one of his arrows, Alith Anar immediately turned fire on Nagaira. He loosed an arrow which she blocked, only to loose another which she deflected again. However, just as she was busy blocking his arrows, the Shadow King suddenly threw a pair of throwing knives at her shins, causing her to drop to her knees in pain.

The siblings advanced and Urial prepared to swing his blade in a wide arc. Undeterred by this threat, Alith cocked his Moonbow and loosed an arrow. The bolt spun through the air and shot Urial’s sword clean out of his hands while Alith drew his blade and hurled it straight through Yasmir’s stomach, impaling her before she ever reached melee combat.

Urial looked stunned. His beloved sister, the one person he had always lusted for was dead while his younger sister sat there in agony, unable to stand while the Shadow King casually stepped past them in search of the entrance to the dungeons. The brother felt a sense of rage come over him and ran over to collect his sword. He picked it up and charged at the Shadow King, only to be killed before he could get into range as Alith turned around and loosed an arrow into his throat. The Shadow King turned to the decadent sorceress who raised her hands to surrender. However, he was not in a forgiving mood. Thus, he loosed a bolt through her skull just to be certain.

The Prince of Nagarythe descended into the dungeons beneath the house. It took him a while to find Alatar for he was not the only prisoner there nor was he the most defiled. Still, even then it still came as a shock when the Shadow King finally saw what had become of his ward. Mutilated, defiled, castrated, blinded. Alatar laid there unconscious in a pile of his own filth. If the Shadow King had known this before, he would have made the siblings upstairs suffer much longer before he killed them.

Alith released Alatar’s bonds and cradled his body in his arms back upstairs. What mattered now was getting his ward to safety.

….

◙ Sad React: Alith emerged from the mansion but it was too late. Belthania, the Hand of the Shadow Crown and all the Shadow Walkers were dead. They gave their lives trying to buy their king as much time as they could muster but it sadly wasn’t enough.

As the Druchii’s legions ascended the towers in search of the Shadow King, Alith looked down at his ward’s broken body. The one chance he’d ever had to raising an heir… to leaving an actual legacy behind. That was gone now. Malekith was no longer Witch King. He had alienated any allies he ever had back in Ulthuan. There really was no point left in fighting. He had nothing to fight for anymore.

Alith threw his blade and bow to the ground and dropped to a kneeling position as he waited for the inevitable swift brush of a crossbow’s bolt that would put him out of his misery.

….

◙ Love React: The Shadow King emerged and saw his allies below. Belthania, the Hand and many of his Shadow Walkers still stood, fighting the good fight against insurmountable odds. Alatar was injured but safe, now it was time to go. The Shadow King descended at full speed with Alatar’s body in his clutches, making his way to his peers with full haste as the group descended back into the mine tunnels they had come from. Only this time they took a slightly longer route out, one that wouldn’t involve crossing paths with an Arachnarok.

Instead, many of the gullible Druchii guards took that shorter route thinking they could cut off the Shadow Walkers’ escape of which they were surely mistaken as they ended up being devoured by the beast instead. Eventually, the Shadow King and his soldiers made their way out of the tunnels and into the world beyond where they returned to the shadows. The other ruling families of Hag Graef sent numerous packs of dread knights riding cold ones out to hunt the Aesanar but none ever succeeded in finding the Shadow King or his allies.