Iron Beard was an old tree, but not old compared to the elders of his clan. He was not a young and reckless Tree Lord. He was also not as ancient among the others “Ancients” that had been blessed by Alarielle with the magics of the Fey. He had seen many battles along the Wyldwoods of his clan, but never as a true leader. He was always the second or even third Tree Lord Ancient of any host. This was to change, as the tides of war often changed in the age of Sigmar.
After the quick defeat of a small host of Nurgle’s rot that had been dispelled from the outer borders of the Ironbark Glade, the Wyldwoods regrew and the Fey song returned there. Silver Mane, the noble clan leader of the Ironbark Clan, took Iron Beard aside to a quiet grove that was repopulating with sprites. The slipped through the branches into tree holes, peering with bright eyes at the two large Treemen below.
“We go East to secure the lands that have already been lost.” Silver Mane said.
“Then I will follow you, as we follow the song of Alarielle.” Iron Beard replied.
“No, you will go West to protect the Wyldwood that has already been reclaimed.” Silver mane retorted as he raised his staff to grow vines on a new sapling.
“As you wish my Lord. Everything that is has grown and will grow again.” Iron Beard said while also raising his staff to bloom flowers under the sapling.
“Take a family of my Tree Folk with you and find Stumpy. Whispers have gone through the woods that he has been defeated in his wanderings. Create your own household with Stumpy and spread the song of Alarielle.” Silver Mane said as he strode back to the host, leaving Iron Beard alone in the grove.
“I will not fail you, although you could not have picked a more reckless and fool-hearty Tree Lord for me to rescue.” Iron beard said to himself as he walked away to the West. Out of the trees a family of Dryads formed in his wake. A dozen sprites followed them, spitting and cackling.
Time is not cognizant to the Sylvaneth, but by mortal time a week had passed. Iron Beard noticed the smell of death and decay. Ahead of his host was the dead trees and evidence of Nighthaunt taint. He halted his Dryad sisters and noticed a black mass in the distance. The ghastly appearance of a Black Coach and the wraiths of the dead.
Iron Beard positioned himself and his troops in the Wyldwood in wait. He was noticed instantly by the dead warband. He knew a defensive tactic would be best. This would be his first battle as a leader, and he knew the flying ghosts were going to be a hard foe due to their ability to cause mortal wounds. The thick Oaken Armor of his clan would be useless against that. He also prepared a spell to grow new Wyldwood, when there was no room to grown on the battlefield…
Confused with his new command, Iron Beard forgot to use his ranged attack with his staff as the black coach charged his Dryads. Thankfully they were nestled in the wood and bolstered by their numbers. No Dryads fell outright. The woods were awakened and came to life, attacking the coach doing minor damage. A troop of wraiths and a knight with a huge sword came closer from the North.
The Black Coach regained from the damage with dark magics and grew in size and terror. A few Dryads fell to the scythes and hoofs of black steeds. The woods were again awakened to destroy a few wraiths, but that did not stop them from charging into the Wyldwood as well. The knight came closer too, but just out of charging range. Iron Beard charged the black coach with ease, around a tree, but did little damage. His stomps did not have any effect. The Dryads however did major damage to the coach as they piled in from the woods.
Intertwined in battle the great melee was finally joined by the knight. The coach and the wraiths slew more Dryads, causing some to flee. Although many were saved by the power of the Fey, coursing through the Wyldwoods where they stood. The Dryads fought back and damaged the coach more and slew a few wraiths, causing a few to flee as well.
The black coach grew even larger and deadlier, but not quick enough. Scythes and hooves attacked Ironbeard beating him down nearly to death, but he persevered. The piercing vines of Iron Beard and the ravaging claws of the remaining Dryads destroyed the coach in a flash of smoke and screeches. Victory was in the grasp of destroying the remaining wraiths and the knight.
Iron Beard watched, as he was too far to intervene. His sisters tore into the ghostly apparitions. The knight was obliterated with a volley of lucky attacks. The screams and cries of it’s undeath fizzled into the air. The remaining wraiths were routed and tore asunder. Victory was in the tendrils of the Sylvaneth this day. The woods that were tainted by death were regrown.
Onward Iron Beard marched with his Dryads to the West, to find Stumpy. To create a household.
Note from Author
This was a 500 Point battle between Sylvaneth and Nighthaunt.
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