The Mists of WarKalyustar came to his senses to find himself held by grim looking Wörtbaders. The armed peasants looked at van Toorn in puzzlement.
"But... Herr Hexenjäger... that falling star left a bloody trail in the sky!" said one.
"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is coming!" added another speaking in panic over him.
"We must hurry or..."
"Enough! Can't you see that was a sign from Sigmar? The God-King will deliver retribution to those that threaten this land! And I can not wait to be in Wörtbab to question this treacherous wizard" van Toorn's damning gaze fell on Kalyustar.
"There is wisdom in these men's words, Witch Hunter. Lunaghast still speaks to me and..."
"Silence!" a fist to the stern cut the word's out of Kalyustar's mouth.
As he gasped on the ground, a red haze creeped in, filling his lungs. The wizard convulsed, his mind and body ravaged by the vanishing voice of Lunaghast and a violent thirst for battle.
A Red Mist now covered the whole Harrowmark.
The Wörtbaders spread around swinging their weapons at the creeping mist, an unnatural frenzy in their eyes. A greenish glow cut through it as the Haunted Gate flicker and the Raidho Othalas emerged from it.
The Red Mist parted to reveal a regal looking spirit surveying the woods from the battlements of the Freebooter's Tower. Below it, his minions advanced through the woods.
"He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named!" the wisper came from the Wörtbaders.
"Prepare your bows and pistols! We'll fight them and we'll send them away from your lands!" the note of aggression in van Toorn's voice resonated with the men, replacing their fear with battle lust.
The Kharadron spread out of the Gate and levelled their weapons at the advancing undead. And yet, the ghosts advanced, material and aetheric shots alike passing through their forms. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named floated down from the Freeboter's Tower and joined his servants.
With a chilling laughter, Lyrd Radclyffe emerged from the Red Mist and riding past Kalyustar schyted through the Wörtbaders.
Kalyustar fought the pain wracking him and harnessed his powers to dispatch the Hexwraith.
Screaming furiously, van Toorn charged and mauled the Deathrattle warrior that had been jarringly advancing towards them. The Witch Hunter then turned towards the distant duardin, a homicidal light in his eyes.
The duardin stubbornly planted their feet and prepared another salvo. Yet, they too were about to give in to frenzy. That much Kalyustar could see through the ruddy haze.
It is the Mist. Run, Soulchemist! the voice came clear, chasing away the pain that was plaguing Kalyustar. Without a second tought, the wizard slinked away into the woods. As he sped up, he glanced back to see humans, duardin and nighthaunt bathed in the seething Red Mist, their battle frenzy growing stronger with every bloody lung-full.