“Legends whispered of a red mist that crept through Mordheim’s ruins, silent yet reeking of death. In its heart walked Isabella Von Carstein, clad in shadows and ambition.”
As the pale moon rose over the shattered remains of Mordheim, Isabella Von Carstein stood atop the ruined bell tower, her crimson lips curled into a cruel smile. This was no mere mortal ruin—it was a city steeped in corruption, writhing with wyrdstone fragments capable of reshaping life and death itself.
Once a consort bound to her husband’s endless conquests, Isabella had grown weary of living in another's shadow. Now, the chaos-tainted stones whispered promises of eternal dominion, unbound by others will.
She descended into the cursed streets, her warband trailing like shadows at her feet. The Necromancer Balduin murmured foul incantations while spectral wolves prowled the alleys. In Isabella’s eyes, Mordheim was no longer a city of ruin—it was a crucible in which her empire of eternal night would be forged. The city was spoken of as a place where only the mad and desperate ventured. Isabella Von Carstein was neither, but ambition burned brighter in her than fear ever could.
For centuries, she had watched her husband's schemes crumble under the weight of his arrogance. She would not repeat his mistakes. With wyrdstone, Isabella saw a future where even death would kneel before her—a court of hollow thralls bent to her indomitable will. With Balduin's spells raising legions from the city's bones, and her Dire Wolves tearing through mortal defenses, she would lead her warband through Mordheim's ashes, each step bringing her closer to sovereignty over death itself.
Legends whispered of a red mist that crept through Mordheim's ruins, silent yet reeking of death. In its heart walked Isabella Von Carstein, clad in shadows and ambition.
The mist was no natural phenomenon; it was Isabella's calling card—a necromantic veil woven by Balduin's dark rites. Under its cover, Isabella's warband moved unseen, striking from nowhere and vanishing without trace. The Crimson Lady, as she came to be known, claimed not just the wyrdstone but the fear that hung thick in the city. With each shard she claimed, her dominion over death grew stronger, threatening to drown the remnants of life in an endless tide of darkness.
Isabella knew that chaos and ruin were the seeds from which true power grew. With wyrdstone in her grasp, not even Vlad would dare challenge her authority. Balduin's rituals wove dark magics into the land itself, raising ghouls and zombies to form an empire without borders—an eternal dominion stretching beyond Sylvania into a world remade by death's cold embrace. The world had forgotten its fear of night, and Isabella intended to remind it. Under her command, wyrdstone fragments would reshape reality itself, extinguishing the feeble light of mortal defiance.
Isabella envisioned a realm where blood was currency and darkness eternal—an empire ruled by the night’s mistress, crowned with shadows. She did not seek conquest; she sought reclamation. Mortals had merely borrowed the world for a time—it was always destined to return to the dead. Her warband was a herald of this reclamation, marching through Mordheim as shadows incarnate, stripping the city of its mortal pretensions and claiming every street, ruin, and alley for the domain of the eternal.
The Warband
Isabella Von Carstein (Vampire Leader): Regal, beautiful, and utterly merciless, Isabella wears the elegance of nobility like a veil over her monstrous hunger. Though often underestimated as a mere consort, she is a cunning tactician with a taste for vengeance and cruelty. She sees Mordheim as a proving ground to demonstrate her own power — not just to the Empire, but to the Von Carstein line itself.
The Necromancer Balduin: Once a brilliant Imperial scholar obsessed with the secrets of death, Balduin fell into madness under Isabella’s thrall. Now a gaunt, pale figure shrouded in tattered robes, he wields necromantic magic to reanimate the fallen and bend them to his mistress’s will.
The Dregs: Former peasants and criminals twisted by Isabella's cruel whims, these half-living wretches cling to a semblance of life only through their mistress's dark gifts. They skulk through the shadows, serving as her spies and expendable fodder.
Dire Wolves: Restless spirits of Sylvania’s forests bound to Isabella these beasts stalk ahead of the warband, their howls heralding death.
Ghouls: Savage carrion-eaters drawn by Isabella’s call, they skitter and lurch across ruined streets, eager to devour both the dead and the living.
Zombies: The shambling remains of Mordheim’s own citizens, raised by Balduin’s dark rites, these soulless puppets form an impenetrable wall of death between Isabella and her enemies.
The Quest for Eternal Dominion
Isabella’s warband cuts a path through the haunted ruins of Mordheim, guided by whispers from ancient shadows and the insatiable call of wyrdstone. For Isabella, the stakes are clear — seize the shards of chaos, raise an unstoppable army of the dead, and return to Sylvania not as Vlad's consort but as its true ruler.
Each night, under the bloodied moonlight, Isabella Von Carstein strides through the twisted alleys of Mordheim, a vision of deathly beauty amidst rot and ruin. Her warband follows in silent devotion, bound by terror, sorcery, and an unbreakable thirst for dominion over both life and death.