- This is not a numbered chapter so there is no rally master and no influence / influence rewards.
- Nemesis Landing, Blighted Isles
Story *spoiler alert*Edit
From atop the tallest iron spire of his vast floating fortress-city, Lord Uthorin watched the slate-gray surface of the Great Western Ocean roll and undulate, lapping at the rocky rim of the Black Ark. Waves crashed upon the high cliffs that formed the Ark's forward promontory, sending great sprays of seawater high into the air.
Uthorin could barely control the vessel's motion as it plowed through the water. It was so massive, the motion of the sea scarcely affected it.
"You summoned me, my lord?"
Lord Uthorin turned to see his son Kaloth, clad in the dark-tainted armor of the Black Guard.
"Yes, Kaloth, come and stand with me a moment. Behold our great fleet. Is it not magnificent?"
Uthorin gestured to the rear of the Ark. Perhaps a dozen more of the floating fortresses followed behind, spread across a great swath of ocean. Kaloth nodded in agreement. It was an impressive sight indeed; the Druchii had not mustered such a force in many centuries.
"And here is House Arkaneth," said Uthorin with a sneer as he gestured toward the nearest of the island fortresses. Kaloth glowered as he looked toward the Ark of House Uthorin’s longtime rival. At this distance, it looked small and unimpressive. Kaloth wished that he could reach across the water and crush it in his palm.
“I know what lies in that black heart of yours, Kaloth. Rest assured, we will deal with Lady Arkaneth and her brood soon enough. But first, let us attend to matters nearer at hand. Have you made an account of our Sorcerers and sent it to the Witch King?”
“I have, my lord,” replied Kaloth with a wry smile.
Malekith had recently granted permission for male Dark Elves to practice the arts of magic. For millennia previous, such activity was punishable by death, but after several failed attempts to conquer Ulthuan, the Witch King was determined to bring every weapon to bear against the High Elves.
Now, every noble house had been commanded to provide Malekith with a list of its male Sorcerers, and also to instruct them to join in the attack. House Uthorin had made its report, but of course, had not revealed everything.
“Good, that should keep the Witch King satisfied, for a time. I do not doubt his intention to massacre the lot of them once we are victorious in Ulthuan, but it will hardly matter by then.”
“Oh?,” remarked Kaloth, clearly curious. “Tell me, father, what grand scheme have you in mind?”
Lord Uthorin laughed, and clasped his son’s shoulder fondly. “You are my firstborn son, Kaloth, and you should know better than to ask such questions. I do not doubt your prowess with a blade, but you have much to learn about subtlety.”
Kaloth smiled back, and clasped his father’s arm tightly. “You are right, of course, my lord, but you can be sure that one of your lessons remains firmly fixed in my mind.”
“Oh, and what is that?” asked Uthorin, amused.
Kaloth leaned in close, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he replied. “The danger of underestimation.”
Lord Uthorin was no longer amused.