The Fall of The Oak of Ages..

The stench of rot filled the air. Something foul had landed in the Realm. Lord Silvan knew this not to be anything of the mortal beings of man, guardian or Aelf. He sent a party of waywatchers out to scout the lands to the North, the Realmgate felt diseased, corrupted and tainted by Chaos. 

Nurgle had landed upon the Realm, before the host of Wood Elves had completed their journey from Ghyran. Would this mean the remaining travellers still coming would be lost in the void? 

The Realm had become abundant with Chaos, rising under the noses of all forces of Order, but undetectable until it was too late. The Aelf wanderers of The Oak of Ages were too few to hold their lands from this plague. Skaven to the South, Nurgle to the North, Tzeentch Beasts to the West, The Oak of Ages would not survive. 

It was on the 5th day of stink, that they arrived. The puss came first, riding the wind and blasting the great tree, soaking it in green maggot infested slime. The Tree immediately withered. Lord Silvan called to the winds, through the horn. Would anyone answer his call?

The answer would be no. The Rotbringers and Daemons hit hard into the small ranks of weak glade. Splintering the branches of Dryads and Treemen at their aid. Within a few hours, the host was reduced to Lord Silvan standing alone amongst the bodies of his Kin, he stooped down to one knee awaiting the fate. 

The Lord of the Rotbringers came forward, laughing in his step. As the sky turned black, Silvan remembered his long long life, stretching back into other time. As his eyes closed, the vision of a lady shone upon him, holding out a hand, smiling softly. Then there was nothing..