Chapter 1 - As the Walls Crumble [Story]

Atop the walls of black stone and a hundred black towers did Sulephet land and equally onyx hooves soon resounded against the cold, lifeless brick, at first with haste and then with an according loss of pace as the mighty mount lost its speed. Pale and nearly white mane, had it not been for the unhealthy tone of gold, fluttered on the wind and followed the gale’s raging haste; aureate chains waved no less with the freezing gusts and scarlet eyes soon stared forth, waiting for dark pegasus’ mistress to step down.

And as a raging air forced the snowy quilts off the watchtowers and howled much in the distance, Morathi's greaves sang against the cold stone, their ill-bringing symphony lost amidst even colder winds of the North. The blizzard pierced to the bone and left not a sliver of one’s body untouched, there was no warmth to find or to keep, to save it from being stolen by the furious element. 

Yet she held without movement for a while. Standing next to the equine mount, she heard as it waved the monstrous, black wings a few times more before bringing them tightly to the dark body and covering it. Scarlet of his gaze could be felt on her back but the First of the Hag Queens merely took a deeper breath, filled her lungs with chill beyond comprehension and then exhaled, waving the fingers of her free hand ever so softly. 

The wall that led to her quarters was long, ridden with powdery ice and tall - very tall, leading to some of the tallest towers that the city has known. In a way it felt desolate but appropriate; cold, unwelcoming, dangerous and a thing that any same man, asur or any other race would avoid but it did feel right. Emerald eyes closed once, for a shorter while accompanied by yet fine breath of raging ice-winds; after that they turned forth and in the same direction she began to move. 

Black Halberds stood high in the air, on both her sides and by the edges of the wall, forming a corridor she could freely move through; there was little to protect her from and the Black Guard answered to no one else but her son but yet, they were there to greet and guard her as she arrived. She granted them no word for not a single one was she in mood for and smarter than most, they wouldn’t say a single thing either. 

Her eyes downturned onto the city below; Naggarond. City of Cold, the most ancient of Dark Elf cities and for many of its citizens, a place that forced malevolence out of every cradle. An ever stirring storm of murder, revenge, slaughter, sacrifice and betrayal - a birthplace of the strong and the certain doom of the weak. Their home. 

As cold gales continued to howl and scream outside, she left the mist bathed city below and made it into the great tower. Amethyst fire sizzled as she passed, ever so fed by the presence of power and beauty absolute; fires of lust and violence grew higher as she climbed the steps towards her chambers. Only as the velvety curtains were left behind, only then did she allow herself to let out a mild sigh. 

A dozen slaves waited in the corners but she had little interest and little attention to spare for them, thus Morathi merely made it onto her throne; this personal little seat that her bottom soon covered and covered well. Thousands if not more had already fallen for the beauty of shapes and sizes perfect; for breasts that seemed to fill a hand fully and the bottom that nicely fit on another's face. 

Not too obscene in body alone she was - the dark sorceress had finer ways for obscenity. 

Her back met the enchanted, warm stone and head turned upwards; there was a breath of relief but the escaping air was but mixed with annoyance. "Bloody fools. I should have killed every single one by the moment they dared to open their mouths." Her words carried themselves with bitterness, discontent but most of all, deep dissatisfaction. "Ugh." 

Things were unsplendorous to say to say the least and it didn't seem like they were getting better. What was the most terrifying , Morathi didn't yet see a way out of it all. Thousand times before, no matter the peril, there was always something to brew, always a dagger to use, a simple scheme to undo a problem. This time not a single sliver of her mind could agree upon a fitting solution. 

Lack of a way out of trouble was far worse than the trouble itself. 

Then she tapped her chin twice and opened her eyes with ill-fated fire inside them, just to wave her fingers and turn two of her mind-slaves into ash. She couldn't be this restless before her servants, it was of no good image. Nonetheless, two piles of gray nothing were enough to let momentary discontentedness, allowing her to proceed. "Get in." Her voice resounded. 

And it were her words that soon stood followed by a few steps, all as Duluth stepped into her chambers, staring at her and holding but a pile of scrolls in his hands. "Speak quickly before I lose my patience." She declared although with more of an empty threat than an actual one - Duluth was one of the few servants she could get trust with information, at least as far as trust went in their society. Which means he had his uses. 

The Dark Elf spread his arms and allowed the scrolls to fall down upon the brick below, although this never happened as the enchanted parchment spread itself flew towards the Hag Queen. "Things are not looking much better." 

“Do they ever?” She asked rather rhetorically and the Druchii continued. 

“Mung keep approaching from the north and bite into our borders with the ease of Skinwolf tearing into our soldiers. The borders of what is considered our domain have been moving on a weekly basis and voices have risen whether we can hold on at all…” Morathi did not say a word, merely staring at the scroll and its artistic interpretation of their shrinking borders; nothing brought so much joy as watching a piece of paper slowly illustrate your failures. Apparently someone thought so.

“... more so, beastmen dwell alongside the Iron Mountains and burn our settlements alongside that border; The Witch King has sent a few armies in that direction but none has returned. With every new one dispatched, the unease around our troops grow - people believe the Witch King is just throwing men at the wall and seeing which ones stick. Some say that another  Hag Graef is in order…”

“Of course they believe so - cowardly, incompetent fools that can not take care of some mindless, raging goats and overgrown bulls.” Morathi scoffed although not with amusement. Had it been any other day, she would have them all sacrificed, put to a knife and their entire families as well - there would be a message to be sent. Part of the issue was, she couldn’t do so freely this time. “And the rest?”

“Black and Clawed coasts seem to experience an unusual amount of attacks from the Asur; Black Arks haven’t been able to sail into the deep sea for months and the inflow of slaves has been… insufficent. A lot of Druchii blood has been put to altars recently all around the land in order to appease the gods…” Duluth stopped for a moment and their eyes met, his steady but careful, her cold and deeply discontent but still, with some kind of guarantee that he won’t die if he continues. 

“... to appease them and ask whether it is not time for changes. We’ve sent messages to the west but there has been no answer nor did our messenger return - he either was caught by the norsca or something else.” Or he was killed to send a message. “We’re bitten from every direction and there's no one to ask for further troops. The Witch King took to the south to quell rebellion in Bleak Holds.”

“Moreover, the tunnels allowing us to join the Har Ganeth-Clar Kardon network have collapsed, it seems like the Skaven have sent their saboteurs; we’ve slaughtered whatever ratmen we’ve found but the damage was already done. It will be some months before we’re properly connected again.”

“That would be all.”

“Splendorous.” She declared with a voice as sarcastic as poisonous. They were crushed from every direction, either by someone’s flawless scheme or cursed jinx and they had little resources to put in any direction - more to say, no one would spare any resources to save the other end of the kingdom if his or her own was barely holding.

Nelosi in the south long ago decided that Malekith won’t rule over her if he can’t hold a kingdom together, she smelled blood in the water and took to action. West was crumbling under the Mung mutants who just so happily happened to form a wicked, bloodthirsty crusade against them for the sake of it and Hagrene who led there would rather risk Morathi’s anger than help. North was as well squeezed between both the minotaur and smaller bands of forementioned brutes and as per usual, everyone blamed the crown. 

They blamed Malekith. 

The very thought turned another two masked, corner-squeezed slaves to dust and made it so much comfier for the other ones to spread around the small vicinity. They were bleeding all over and there wasn’t another wrist to slit to fill either side. Her dream was crumbling and Malekith, the Witch King, her son, was as hotheaded as ever and left without asking her a thing. 

If her son fell, then everything would fall apart. He was not allowed to die, he was not allowed to fail and more so, he was not allowed to lose his image at this moment or everything she worked for, for the past thousands of years, would crumble. Her nails, sharp as daggers and of great length, tapped against her throne. If it was any other time, she would just put two idiots against each other and take control of the winner. Just this time all the idiots were too stubborn and taking care of one will likely give the rest enough time to cause too many problems. 

“My Queen…”

“Silence.” She declared with a growl and Dulluth stopped as if stabbed with a knife - admittedly he was very close to being sacrificed. Even though the Druchii servant would spend the next few minutes contemplating whether he’s about to die, Morathi didn’t pay him but another second of interest. Malekith was everything she had in these times, she made him and she guided him, she taught him and she advised him - he was the core of everything. 

But yet was too stupid to understand any of it and had she not told him how to weave the hearts and daggers of his servants, he had the political prowress of a bestigor; perhaps not entirely but for the most part. Yet, he had to be protected at all costs, no matter the blood or the lives lost, gold or riches, pride and other things she was soon to learn about. It took a great few minutes more before a certain fire sparked inside her eyes. 

If west, south and north were indisposed then there was only one place to look in. Thankfully, she did have a few more tricks up her sleeve - even though they likely wouldn’t be all enough to fix it all, they would be enough to spark a kindling to the fire of salvation. Her own, bloody and debauched salvation but salvation nonetheless. 

From beneath thick eyelashes did her eyes turn to Dulluth, who merely swallowed quickly. “Do you need anything, First of the Queens? As per your arrival, the sanguine wines are already warmed up and a fresh batch of servants is ready to arrive.”

“No, I’ll be leaving.” She stood up from the throne - so it was proven that finest thoughts came to you at home, at your own fine seat. “But do bring me the scrolls of the Blood Cauldrons and do keep watching over the situation.” Druchii’s servant raised his eyebrows in curiosity, even he knew that secrets of the Cauldrons were not something she ever brought out of her chambers; even despite the thousand different wards and sorceressly traps laid within them. 

Her lips bent into a content smile, shaded alike dark plums and plump, they heralded nothing but sinister things despite their beauty. Dulluth’s eyes rested on them for a while, pondering over just how soft and puffy they were, over just well they would bend under his thumb if he was to shove it into the greatest of Dark Elf Sorceresses. “As you wish, My Queen.”

“And do kill the fool who decided I need to wait for my warm wine.” It might have been her own order but alas, little did she have time and even less mood. “I, on the other hand, will take care of another fool.”


This is a commissioned piece. 


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