The Company Of The Black Sun -An Age of Sigmar Undead Narrative Army - Part One

'The Siege of Morlaix had lasted for weeks. Food was becoming scarce, not that it mattered to the golden defenders of the city, the Stormcast Eternals. It mattered to him though, he and his men, who had made Morlaix their home.

Sir Reikor had tried pleading with the Lord Celestant, but had not listened, insisting that the siege would be broken soon, and the legions of the undead turned back.  Sir Reikor was not so confident...

At the start of the 7th week, Sir Reikor made a decision that would damn him and his men, the Company of the Black Sun, forever.

Riding out across the frozen, snow covered plain with his personal guard at his side, Sir Reikor called out to the commander of the legion he saw before him, one that chilled his soul to the core, to meet him in parlay, to negotiate an end to the siege.

Rising out of the snow, he saw what he could only call a woman, dressed in bridal gowns, slowly moving toward him. He stiffened his pose in his saddle, trying to hold on to his composure in the face of sheer terror.

'I wish to speak to the Lord who commands this army, to negotiate the City's freedom' he called out, the words leaving his mouth in a stammering jumble.

'There is no Lord, Sir Knight, only myself.' The words appearing in his head, as if spoken but somehow not said

'There will be no surrender, no survival for this city, yet there may be for you and your men if you choose to serve' the voice whispered.

The mists had begun to rise, spirits forming out of the wisps, like shapes forming in clouds.  His men, uneasy from the start now visibly alarmed

'Lord, we should turn back, back to the city! There is still time!' screamed the Captain of the Guard, his words unheard by Sir Reikor.

'You offer safe passage for me and my Company, Lady? You wish to employ us? Tell me your terms'.

'All you need do Sir Reikor is embrace me and you and your Company will be safe, my Army will not touch you...'

He could see the lines of her skull through her veil, he was sure.  But, if it meant his escape from this thrice damned city surely it was a price worth paying? Surely his men would appreciate him all the more for saving their lives?

Dismounting his horse, Sir Reikor slowly walked over to where the Lady in White stood, each step as if his boots were filled with lead, until he stood in front of her, her gown billowing as if caught in a breeze.

'One embrace, that's all it will take to seal our compact, one embrace to assure you will never be harmed by any of Nagash's legions again...' she cooed, words that chilled the blood as much as they attempted to calm him...

He embraced the Lady, pulling her toward him...


He woke up. The cold hurt so much, hurt to his very core. The screams he could hear assaulted his senses, deafening him. He realised the screams were his....

He looked down, and screamed once more. Where once were the finest armour the Free People could make, now tarnished metal and ruined cloth.

Bursting from the ground around him, his men came to life, dragged from their lives by the darkest of magics, the living now dead, the dead now undead. Men who had fought together in the light, now bound in darkness forever more...

It was then he realised, the cruelest trick of all had been played. The undead would never touch he or his men for they were now part of the very army they sought to defend the City from... they were now one with the Nighthaunt, under the command of the Lady Olynder, Mortarch of Grief...

Now, the City would fall, now, that damnable Lord Celestant would pay for what he had done to Reikor, Knight of Shrouds, Commander of the Company of the Black Sun...