Typhus' Empire flexes muscles in preparation for war!

Typhus gazed through the farsqueaker, a look of satisfaction on his twitching, spasmatic features. His plans were coming to fruition, each piece falling into place under the guidance of his unquestionable cunning and unmatched wisdom. He watched through the lens as a shining phalanx of spears was swamped with a writhing brown tide of fur and rusty armour. As intended the refugees that Typhus had “welcomed” into his beneficent domain were already clashing with the hated Elves of Mellvellon. He winced as the brown tide retreated, fleeing as a tightly packed formation of lancers broke apart their formation. It seemed his new pawns would serve to buy him time and little else.

Still, time was all he needed. A further expedition to the far north had yielded results, massacring the troublesome beastmen that infested the area and securing large quantities of warpstone for Boiling Peak's forges. A further raid carried out by Typhus' new privateer fleet had come back packed with slaves abducted from the Holy Sigmarite Empire. The humans seemed powerless to stop the repeated raids, unable to predict when and where the airborne raiders might strike next.

Glutted with slaves and warpstone the many forges and factories on the slopes of the volcano were going into overdrive, working solidly both night and day. Typhus' legions already marched south, securing the coastline and constructing a string of towers to warn against any seaborne invasion. Work was nearly complete on a pair of forts built to bar access to the peninsula on which Boiling Peak was located. Soon Typhus' little despotism would be an impregnable bastion, proof against any invasion the lesser races might attempt.

But Typhus wasn't content to leave it at that. With their continued warmongering and encroachment on his territory the Elves of Mellvellon must learn a lesson of blood! He turned his gazed away from the farsqueaker and contemplated the vast armada and armies mustering in the port below. He would crush their pathetic colony and dance on the burnt carcasses of their breeders and whelps!