[Mithras]

In the spirit of following the leader.
The battle for Korrmark, From the historic records of the Council of Ice
The legion attacked at dawn. Accompanied by a city full of pagan mages and a host of medium cavalry. Even though caught at unawares the militia marched out to meet them, desperate to protect their new found homes. The Niefel stayed back, praying to Theag led by the Godes. Fjun, commander of the east, slayer of the winged ones, stood a little way from the rest of the group. His jaw had been torn asunder in a previous skirmish and he muttered arcane incantations with great pain.
The battle field was an old one countless men had died in the recent battles. The magi of Ermor, some who were living a second life brought about unnaturally rites and depraved rituals, used this to their advantage. Those who had been buried long ago were forced to rise against their will.
The militia surged forward, meeting the Ermorian legion head on. But they were made helpless by bonds of living fire. Meanwhile the cavalry of Ermor had outflanked the main body, they were met by the Niefel giants, who suffered casualties in the first charge but slowly put the riders to flight. At this moment Fjun leapt into the air with a disfigured roar, setting down in the midst of the legion and sending men flying with an enchanted blade which was whirled so fast it was beyond mortal sight. A wight stood against the great giant’s onslaught and by some uncanny luck nicked him with a wicked blade. Not only was Fjun moving as fast as the wind but he was aging at a great rate. At first he just grew stronger, but slowly, as the hours past he became weakened. All the while the main body of giants was fighting their way towards him. Finally it was too much for Fjun who once again took to the air, living to fight another day. Though their leader was gone the Niefel though on bravely, eventually putting the Ermorians to flight.

Now I’ve finished boasting about the epic battle time for the real story.
The alliance between Druids and Jarls had been such that some druids had come to worship Theag, while so Jarls had come to worship the god of the tribes. There were few such druids, but they were all wise. They were permitted into the great temple of Theag, where the likeness of him in stone was honoured, only in the hour of greatest darkness each month. It was at such an hour that a solitary druid knelt in prayer to Theag. Suddenly the statue crumbled, leaving only its outline in dust. Curious the druid stepped onto the altar. A strange wind blew coating the druid with the dust of the venerated statue. The druid blinked, suddenly his mind was gone and in its place... Theag had awoken. The first order of business was to find the eldest of the Skratti and hanging them for not recognising that they worshipped a prison...