As Captain Varrick Blazewind of the Crew of the Flaming Rose, my heart burned with fierce pride as I led my warriors into the battle against the Ossiarch Bonereapers. Our force was well-armed and determined—Fusil-Major and his regiment of Fusiliers, my brave Steelhelms, the unyielding Wildercorps scouts, and the thunderous fire of our Ironweld cannons. We were ready to hold the line.
The battle began with the terrifying assault of the Morghast, giant bone constructs flying with almost murderous grace. They tore through one of our Wildercorps regiments with ease. The second Wildercorps tried to strike back, using their crossbows, hatchets, and ferocious hounds, but they were no match for the relentless Mortek Guard. Meanwhile, our Fusil-Major, his comrades, and our cannons concentrated all their fire on the flying monstrosities, managing to bring one down. Yet, even that wasn’t enough. The Mortek Guard, led by the Mortisan Boneshaper and Azol the Soulmason, pressed forward with terrifying precision, their undead ranks unyielding.
The Immortis Guard joined the fray, bringing with them the cold, unrelenting power of death. My Steelhelms and I tried to hold the line, but the Mortek’s Nadarite spears struck deep, wounding me and thinning our ranks. The ground shook beneath the weight of their march, and our forces faltered. Despite our best efforts, Fusil-Major and his Ogor companion couldn’t stem the tide, and the Immortis Guard crashed into us.
As our Steelhelms broke and the few remaining gunners fired their last shots, the inevitable was clear. The Crew of the Flaming Rose could no longer withstand the onslaught. With the sound of retreat echoing through the air, we turned tail, fleeing back to our base in Pyrehaven. The Ossiarch Bonereapers—servants of Nagash—had proven themselves an unstoppable force. The cold efficiency of death had claimed the day, and our defeat was an undeniable testament to the relentless power of the deathless.