#61 The Doom of Mad Kaphool
O'Enn, Warden of Kenn and Patron of the Briar raised his eyes to the Barrow Hill, allowing his horse to pick its own way across the treacherous moorland. His knights rode alongside him, all proudly bearing the heraldry of the Priest-King Gulaab Kaphool. But he knew that like him, their pride had been shattered.
His gaze dropped from the Barrow Hill to the lone figure of Kaphool as he led his mighty army up the grassy slope towards it. O'Enn sighed quietly as he watched his once-great Lord. A few short weeks ago, Gulaab Kaphool's benevolent reign had appeared invincible. Though the forces of Chaos rampaged across the Mortal Realms, here was a haven of order and relative peace. Gulaab and his people worshipped a pantheon of five gods, each of whom received equal devotion: Sigmar, Nagash, Grungni, Teclis and Allarielle. Thus Men, Duardin, Aelves and even Sylvaneth all lived in harmony and mutual respect.
The consequent unified diversity of the Priest-King's army was the source of its great strength; something the servants of the Ruinous Powers could never understand, and therefore never defeat. Gulaab Kaphool's emerald- and bronze-clad warriors not only bore his scarlet flower sigil, but also marched under the icons of their five honoured deities. And no slaves of darkness could stand before them.
Yet the threat to Gulaab Kaphool's glorious kingdom had not come from Chaos without, but from treachery within: Lord El, one of the Priest-King's closest advisors, had suddenly declared himself a prophet of Nagash. He had claimed that the Lord of Death was not content with a fifth share of their devotions and demanded that all should worship him alone. Gulaab of course had refused and in response Lord El had performed a mighty sorcery which had somehow split the Priest-King's very soul! Lord El had escaped, leaving Kaphool outwardly intact, but shattered and broken within. O'Enn knew that many now called him 'Mad’ Kaphool, and though such disrespect pained him, he could not deny the moniker was appropriate.
Meanwhile, Lord El had withdrawn to the Barrow Hill, Gulaab Kaphool's great burial mound, built many years before in preparation for his ultimate demise and in honour of Nagash. It quickly became evident from the rantings of the diminished Priest-King that Lord El had taken a part of Gulaab's soul into the Barrow and bound it to Nagash alone. But if the kingdom of Gulaab Kaphool was to survive in this Age of Chaos, then it was essential that the soul of its Priest-King be made whole again.
As the army continued up the slope towards the Barrow, O’Enn glanced over his shoulder. Even in his distress he was encouraged by the familiar sight of the emerald and bronze host. Above them fluttered the banners of the Priest-King’s Blooming Rose, alongside icons of Grungni, Teclis and Allarielle. He frowned beneath his helm and turned his head further, trying to spot an icon of Sigmar.
Suddenly, a deafening screech rent the misty air and multiple shadows swept across the ranks of Mad Kaphool’s army. O'Enn looked up to see the speeding forms of hulking vargheists hurtling out of the mauve sky towards the troops on the right flank. On the left, a chiropteran swarm had appeared out of nowhere, and behind him the rear guard was being dive-bombed by fell bats. He swiftly turned his horse toward the vargheists, commanding his squadron to follow, but even as they spurred their steeds forward he realised his mistake.
Distracted by the ambush behind, they had left the Priest-King unsupported! Cursing his tactical naivety, he yanked his reins hard left, leading the knights to the defence of their once-great leader. As they galloped the short distance across the moorland towards the lone figure, O'Enn's heart was suddenly lifted by the sight of a unit of emerald and bronze warriors who had gathered around him. Their distinctive heavy blades instantly identified them as the Guardians of the Barrow, the elite unit dedicated to Nagash and given the task of protecting the future sepulchre of Gulaab Kaphool. He saluted in greeting, but as his horsemen approached, the Guardians turned to face them and planted their mighty glaives as if to block their path. An instant later, O'Enn was close enough to see their faces, and his blood ran cold.
The Guardians of the Barrow were, to a man, corpses. Presumably slaughtered by Lord El and reanimated into his service. And now they stood between O’Enn and his Preist-King. His cavalry were hopelessly outnumbered and their horses shied from the impenetrable forest of mighty blades. He hesitated, even as the diminishing screeches and screams behind him confirmed that the enemy's ambush was steadily annihilating Kaphool's infantry.
At that moment a swarm of bats dived out of the sky right beside Mad Kaphool's isolated figure. The tornado of black leathery wings swirled into a tight spiral and suddenly transformed into an apparently human figure, standing on a rock just above the helpless Priest-King.
"Behold your doom, Mad Kaphool!" cried Lord El, "For I am Elohiim, Lord of the Night, devoted servant of the Great Necromancer. He has already claimed one part of your soul, for even now the King of Thorns commences his eternal service of Nagash. Soon what remains of you shall join him, for Nagash is all and all are one in Nagash!"
In panic, O'Enn glanced behind. The army of Gulaab Kaphool had now fallen silent as the grave. But their corpses were not lying prone upon the blood-stained grass of the moor, they were standing in serried ranks arrayed against him.
He turned back, struggling to control his terrified horse. The vampire Elohiim towered over Mad Kaphool. “Your deities are weak, Priest-King. I perceive that the traitor Sigmar has already abandoned you! Your other gods may have kept your soul from Nagash but your body is at my mercy. But fear not, for I am indeed merciful!” Elohiim’s ivory smile was the visage of a nightmare. “I have a gift for you…”
The vampire leapt down from his rock and took Mad Kaphool in an almost tender embrace. The Priest-King seemed unable to resist as Elohiim bared his fangs to deliver his blood kiss.
Without hesitation, O’Enn Warden of Kenn and Patron of the Briar bellowed his final, futile battle cry, spurred his horse, and charged the impregnable massed glaives of the Guardians.
* * *
O’Enn, Seneschal of the Black Knights of the Lost Thorns stands among the ruins of a barrow high up on Barfun Moor. It has long since been desecrated by the Beasts of Chaos, its boulders raised as sacrilegious herdstones. His memory of this place is lost, yet he and his knights have returned, their emerald robes faded and their bronze armour tarnished. The sigil adorning their tattered banner is no longer a blooming rose but a crown of thorns, for though they still fight for the same Lord, their Lord is not the same.
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