The Battle for Altdorf

"Look for yourself","GO ON",the language was thick and unnatural in his elf throat.  You didn't live for 500 years without learning languages but he never liked this northern gibber with so many words for death and suffering.  He handed over the spotting scope. A younger version of him would have applied something lethal to the eyepiece but not today.  old assassin habits die hard, even when you become king.

The northern lord was no fool, he sniffed the eyepiece, grinned then squinted through it.  as he focused he could take in what the elf had spoken of, not far away a huge force of undead was assembling, dust clouds rose as the relentless march of rotted and skeletal feet pounded the dry earth. Spectral ships could be seen gliding in from the sea and unloading more and more troops.

"As I have said we can fight this out now, but whomever wins will face THAT", he pointed west.  the northern lord continued to look through the scope ignoring the elf.

He had gotten this far with what remained of his army. His men were tired and hungry, but he knew they would fight to the last if he called upon them to do it. Not today he hoped.

Finally the northern commander snapped the scope closed, fixed the elf with a look then slowly regarded his arrayed army, looking back at the two chaos armies behind him. He sniffed the air and then with a signal and a snort horns sounded in the ranks of the northerns.  The elf could sense the disappointment among them. From their bulk and stance he could tell it had been a while since they had last fought.  No matter there would be plenty of time to fight when the undead arrived.  The horns sounded again and the gates of the city cracked open and widened.  The chaos warriors started to disperse heading for the city

The elf king signed his men to follow and at an easy walking pace he steered his mount towards the city.  His fingers relaxed around the poisoned dart in his sash.

 Strange bedfellows indeed he thought to himself as he followed the chaos armies into the interior of the blackened city.

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The ramp crashed down into the surf, and Pieter surged down onto the beach on his nightmare. The beast snorted and gnashed as it caught the scent of the living, many miles North. Waiting on the beach was a hooded figure. It regarded Pieter with Elven eyes.

"Your presence here tells me our mutual acquaintance has performed as expected. Can the Northerners really be so foolish? I must admit though, I can't see how this warlord turns so many to his cause when the only benefit is a slightly quicker death. Hmph. Mortals, who knows what they'll do next eh?"

The elf remained silent. Now that it's work was done, the glamour giving it the illusion of life was sloughing away, revealing the drowned horror beneath. 

The vampire turned to regard the landing troops. Rank upon rank of skeleton warriors marched up from the beach, clouds of ghosts swirling in their wake. Mortis engines slowly drifted over the waves and as he watched, a wight unfurled the Dreux standard and hoisted it aloft. Out to sea more ships were bearing toward land.

Pieter hoped it would be enough to see Altdorf burn.