It is at this point I need to make clear that the bell that tolled came from out of the blue. A terrible peeling of brass on brass. The sound was deafening. 13 times 13 rings came, droning on for what seemed like an eternity. My head split apart, Vauls shocked Elven countenance blurred and faded from my sight, replaced with blackness and two glowing red eyes. The cloying, musky smell of rodent was overpowering. Warp dust hung thick in the air. Its mutating, toxic effects could be felt as surely as the cold prickling of a drop of ice water down a persons spine. The red eyes didn't speak, they did nothing other than hang there, in the blackness, the intent though, that was clear. I had craft an effigy, an idol to his greatness. If I were to be allowed to continue with the Asrai, if I were ever to be given a moments rest or spark of creativity again, I must do this thing. My old air brush was sitting beneath my studio desk, I was drawn to it, like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. forsaking all else, my wife, my newborn son; who was named for the wood elves I was working on. I set to work. Vaul was nowhere to be seen, I could hear he and the other Cadai at the edges of reality. Straining and fighting to break back into the fore front of my psyche. Nothing could break through the musky haze of verminous magic. I toiled by myself, in scant hours the paint flew from my brush, I worked into the dead of the night. By the time Vaul and the others had broken through, the task had already been complete. Isha wept, her crystalline tears shattering upon the earth as they fell. Kurnos raged and set about himself in a destructive frenzy. Vaul, my constant ally, simply beheld my work and with a sad smile and rejoined me in my quest. We set aside the idol and picked up where we had left off, working on yet more Asrai.
Despite the glory of the elves, the radiant, luminous, nobility of the Asur, the cold malevolent beauty of the Druchii and the peaceful, earthy, nature of the Asrai; even with all of the creative potential that their beautiful existence provided, the Skaven had still managed to wormed their way back into reality. Insidious and cunning, the rats had exerted their will, pushing their way to the creative forefront, if only for an instant.