Long before the forces of order sought to “civilise” the realms they had traded hands amidst would be rulers countless times, each building so called unassailable settlements only to sink into the dirt and rubble. The Ghoulmere is no stranger to these settlements, in times long past it was not the detritus riddled wastelands of poor smells and worse decision it has become in recent days, any number of half sunken towers and marks of civilisation lost can be found for those willing to risk wandering into the deep mere though such a trek has little chance of a successful return journey. One such gathering of ruins became the meeting place for the Gitmob tribes flooding into the region as neutral ground between the disparate tribes to provide open space for trade and the occasional pit fight between their captured beasts.

Perhaps not by intent, but over time these makeshift camp amongst the ruins began to take on a life of its own, more grots, troggoths and orruk mercenaries found their way to its ever growing borders. Some taken on as guards for the fledgling grot “businesses” that has sprung up to take advantage of the growing populace and others seeking to exploit those businesses yet to take on guards. As the plunder post grew it garnered the name Skumfenn Sump as many grots would claim they had been the first to devise the name its exact origin is lost amidst lies and posturing, still the Plunderposts rapids growth leant a degree of power and status to the uneasy alliance of Gitmob war chiefs that now claimed it as a mutual stronghold as their Wolfpacks sought to claim territories out in the deeper mere. 

No settlement riddled with thieves, black marketeers and near-do-wells can remain hidden for very long, if your populace is willing to sell out their own mother for a bag of gold then a secret is only that until its value is paid. Word began to spread through Ghyran of.a grot plunder pile hidden somewhere within the Ghoulmere, with each passing of the rumour its legend rapidly outgrew reality until taverns were filled with hushed whispers of mountains of gold stashed in half sunk pay houses within the swamp. Stories of treasure are not uncommon of course, they make for the best tavern tales and many an old drunk swears to have witnesses half a dozen legendary treasures with little to prove their existance, the rumour however began to take root with those of the power to act upon it.

Necromancers and Vampiric warlords already sought to leverage the necrotic energies growing within the Ghoulmere, its very ground long since poisoned by the artillery and industrial runoff from the city of Greywater, and with tales of gold within the mere able to fund their conquest and fortification of the mere the legions of Nagash began to descend upon Ghyran with renewed vigour. What began as vicious border skirmishes between snarlfangs and dire wolves at Meres-edge soon breached into the Ghoulmere itself as each of the disparate Grot war chiefs sought only to protect their own holdings. The unity within the undead was the antithesis of the grot squabbling that typified the Ghoulmere, whilst grots constantly sought to undermine a rival to leverage for position the forces of death pushed ever further into what had once been undisputed Grot territories. 

As more and more territory was lost bitterness and recriminations began to break apart the fragile alliance that had bound the Gitmob to the defence of Skumfenn Sump. Each now sought to claim it as their own stronghold to relocate displaced tribes and provide refuge from the encroaching tides of death that now encircles their hunting grounds. Though the defence of the plunder post  was bitterly fought it was ultimately a failure for the grots who had lost to their own natures and the cruelty of the forces of Death. Countless beasts scattered from the city into the wild lands of the mere, their Grot masters taking refuges wherever they could find it whilst many were put to death at the hands of the conquering legions. 

The plundering (ironic for a plunder-post) of Skumfenn Sump would be the undoing of the Necrotic Legions however, so much of their force had been leveraged against the gold they sought within the ruined settlement as they fell victim to the rumour and innuendo that had vastly over estimated the wealth of the Grot tribes of the Ghoulmere. The gitmob measured wealth in broken beast and hunt not coin and gem, the very beasts the necromancers had left scattered in their wake and ignore in flight to the deep mere left them penniless. Here in the very place they had shattered the Gitmob alliance theirs too would dissolve, unable to afford the upkeep of their mercenaries the forces of Death had no choice but to retreat to safer territories far from the watchful gun towers of Greywater. 

Skumfenn was left in ruins, its populace cut down or scattered into the mere around it and two armies destroyed by the accursed lands upon which it had been built. Though it had fallen the seed of an idea that it had laid would not be left to rot, keen eyes and malicious heart watching from the Deepmere would seek to one day raise the city once more not as mere Plunderpost, but a Kingdom fit for a king…