"What news of the day, Herschall?" the Mayor of Bakersfield inquired in formal tones. "Portents, my lord Davisz, ill portents" the astromancer cringed whilst adding the belated ‘ill portents’. The Mayor sat expectantly. Not imposingly tall, nor filled out, a stern man with black hair and a near contemptuous scowl, with course hair on his moustache and goatee styled beard, he gave a dark air about him. "Well, what of it?" He cut sharply after a near full minute of waiting "What, m’Lord?" "The portents, Mann, the portents you are supposed to be informing me of!" "Oh, oh yes, yes, sorry Lord Davisz" the frail old astromancer stammered. "The star of the dead is waxing strong, m’Lord, and the star of rebirth is being… corrupted, by the light-" "Laymans terms, Herschall, I have not the patience for this" "of the dead sta… oh, right my Lord. We feel there is necromancy abroad. The priests of Morr can feel it, Sir, they’re furious" The Mayor shivered involuntarily. There was only one thing that angered the Priests of Morr, God of the dead, and that was the perversion of long gone spirits….

The dark will of the unliving was being exacted in a wish to overthrow the minor yet vital hamlet of Bakersfield. Orchestrated by a family of vampires, the forces of undeath swelled each passing day as they happened upon more graveyards and ancient battlefields, rusting weapons once more coming into employ. Within one week of the first ill portents, the mayor Jonathan Davisz began reinforcing the castle garrison, and increasing the outriders patrolling the countryside. It wasn’t long before these patrols encountered the walking tomb-rot. Soon the true nature of the threat was realised, with hordes of green-skins roaming the lands around Bakersfield, and lithe and graceful figures firing upon the human border patrols. But none expected the enigmatic lizard demons and their bloated master to fight them. They expected a separate force of the lizard demons to fight FOR them even less.

Running battles managed to slow the undead forces long enough for reinforcements to be called upon from the cities and barracks near Bakersfield. Though many of the pleas for help were met with apathy, enough were answered to give hope to the beleaguered residents of Bakersfield. Scant three days prior what was to be the first and final confrontation of the full forces, a small force of Dwarfs marched upon the city of Bakersfield, keeping their oath of friendship with the city, and protecting the investment of their trade partnership, for the land around Bakersfield held very fine coal with which to smelt iron. Upon the day of battle, Davisz was aghast to find that not only were the forces of undeath, orcs, dark elves, and the lizard demons against him, but his own kinsmen were taking up arms against him, lured by the promises of immortality in power undreamt of! As the two forces arrayed for battle, the Empire reinforcements from outlying settlemants facing off against the turncoat empire soldiers, the Bakersfield Garrison regiments not holding the keep were staring across the field at the darkness-enshrouded army of the vampire counts, the Dwarf throng standing resolute across the field from the foul green-skins, the High Elves within the city standing with the accumulated forces of Good to hold back the Evil and deny it the land, squaring off against their dark cousins the Druchii, and the two lizard-demon forces quarelling with each other, the imperial Mayor knew this may well be the last day he, and his men, will ever see.

With a clap of thunder, both sides sprang into life, the turncoat empire forces advancing slowly, as the living dead shambled forward, their great Dragon and giant bats gliding across the open skies, the orcs rushing towards the Stunties, and the dark elves and lizardmen advancing on their counterparts. The wizards opened themselves to the flow of the Winds of Magic, drawing upon it like a drug. The skies flickered, and three of the wizards were blown through the air with tremendous force, the Necromancer, the dark elf mage, and the mighty Slann Lord. The Orc Shaman became so engorged with power that his movements became random and uncontrollable. All the spells the evil forces were able to cast without injuring themselves were easily dispelled by the joined forces of the wizards and priests on the side of good Many troops fell to the guns and cannons of the empire forces, as the stone throwers of the dwarfs caused much consternation to the vampire lord riding the dragon. Soon the undead met with the Bakersfield Garrison, and through sheer grit, discipline, and determination, the empire forces held, slowly pushing the living dead back. Cries and screams of hatred and pain filled the air, but slowly the undead fell to the spirit in the human forces. The undead were fighting for material power, the humans were fighting for their lives and honour! As the humans pushed back the undead forces, the clouds that shrouded them broke away, and the vampires burned where sun fell upon their skin, burning away by the blinding light of the sun, cleansed by the purifying flames of the just and true.

The Empire reinforcements quickly subdued and culled the traitorous humans. No prisoners were taken. Treason alone is an abomination, but heresy of the soul is not tolerated anywhere in the Empire. The force of the Orcs and Goblins managed to force back a section of the dwarf lines, though the elite units still remained. A pity the same could not be said of the high elves, nor the lizardmen As the battle dragged out, it seemed clear that the forces of evil could no more break the defence of the forces of good, as the good could pursue the withdrawing forces of evil. Both sides spent, and many good soldiers dead, a stalemate was reached from which neither could claim victory.