Warhammer Fantasy: Mark Of Ruin

Prologue

The moon rarely shines on the mist shrouded island of Albion, but that night was different. A full moon night, a night of revelation and prophecy. Reflected on the pure white light of the moon, was the dark greenish glare of the false moon, Morrslieb, causing a surge of the winds of magic, trimming the skin of reality ever thinner.

Seated under one of the mysterious Ogham stones that litter the lush landscape of Albion, was a figure, hooded in white, with a long white beard, and swirling woad patterns on his pale skin.  The figure, absorbed in a reverie of intense contemplation, slowly opened his eyes, revealing a worried look.

"Are you certain, Dagorach?" said a tall figure in white robes, painted in woad, with the Triskele hanging around his neck, the symbol of the order of the Truthsayers.  "There is no certainty in visions, Dural, and yet..." A blazing fire was roaring in the mist.  Gathered around the fire were six robed and hooded figures.  The mysterious council of Truthsayers.  Dural Durak, the council's leader stood in the middle, flanked by two sayers on each side.  Standing in front of them was Dagorach, the white seer of Albion, famed for his wisdom and prophecy throughout the Old World.

The council of Truthsayers has always maintained that Chaos should be fought from the mists of Albion, lest they taste its corrupting nature themselves.  Dagorach, however, was a man with a thirst for exploration, and has travelled the breadth of the world in his earlier years, seeking ways to fight Chaos and assisting the mortal nations in their struggles, by his wisdom and mystical capabilities. This has put him at odds with the council then, and again now.

"The visions were clear enough, and unambiguous" said Dagorach, " I intend to leave for the Old World come dawn, and I am here to seek the blessing of the council."

"You know what the council thinks of your needless expeditions Dagorach," said one of the hooded figures "the plan of the Old Ones demands us to remain on our island until it is time to intervene."

"Would you rather wait until Chaos is at our doorstep to intervene?" retorted Dagorach "if we don't make a move now, the mortal nations will fall before the tide of Chaos."

"It has been 7000 years since the great calamity, and we are still here, what makes you think your visions will change anything?" said another member of the council.

"Careful brother, pride is the father of ignorance." warned Dagorach sarcastically.

"Enough!" said Dural Durak, leader of the council.  Durak was a large, powerfully built man, with dark black hair, that spoke of a youthful vigor, even though he was older than all the other members of the council.  Some say his bloodline is blessed by the Old Ones, others say he consorted with an elven goddess.  Whatever the truth is, the leader of the council was an imposing man in physical and mystical ability.

"I have learned not to argue with you Dagorach, for you are as obstinate as a mule, just as well as you are as wise as a seer.  See this through, and you have the aid of the council" said Dural Durak "and I hope, for your sake, that it isn't too late."