Yeah, I figure the (King, Queen, Lord, 'Non-Ranked Title') theme would probably fit with each races boss Immortals.
For long had we thought those long lost to us were safe from the corrupted roots of the Blight-buried in grand tombs beneath out fortresses, or merely in roadside cairns and monuments, the Earth and Stone seemingly protected our brothers and sisters from joining the undead...until now.
Those scouts who have dared to spy upon the horde tell tales of a massive abomination of a Dwarven immortal, seemingly organizing his fellow fallen into a frenzy of activity-striking and digging at the ground beneath the fallen city with broken pickaxes and shovels, or merely their own rotted fists. This horror mocks the Dwarven people by turning the wholesome enterprise of the miner into a sickly parody-where Dwarves mine the ground for gold and mana crystals, the Grave Digger searches for the bodies of the long slain. When unearthed, they return as blighted corpses, impatient to rise up and fight against us!
We must lead a strike against this monster, before we must not only face our most recent slain kin, but all those whom we once thought rested safely.
Mine for Corpses: The Grave Digger motivates his Immortals to delve and dig for the long buried, in the hopes he may rise them to undeath.
Every X hours, he selects a spot 1 league of himself, and digs for corpses, unearthing a battlefield graveyard containing any where from X to X amount of blighted bodies. If the Grave Digger sacks a city, he produces X% more than the usual amount of bodies, based on the cities initial population. Every time the Grave Digger unearths a cache of bodies, he gains X strength.
Queen of Treachery
Though our numbers were few, we felt mighty that day, as we prepared for the onslaught of our fallen brothers and sisters. Led by our Stoutest Generals, fortified behind thick and tall Dwarven stoneworks, and with many experienced veteran soldiers in our ranks, we felt unstoppable. Even the Orcs, who had not perhaps sent as many troops as they could, supplied plentiful ale and pork to bolster our provisions, and the Humans called upon their far-away Shamans to give us a fortuitous Silver moon, further fortifying us for the battle to the come
Sadly, we were all betrayed. First, the Orcs, agitated and uneasy under the Silver moon, accused us of weakening them purposefully, so that they would die fighting the oncoming Blight-first quietly, to themselves, then loudly in the halls. The Humans accused the Orcs of cowardice, for not sending more troops-perhaps they were the ones who hoped we would all die, leaving our lands defenseless. We Dwarves attempted to keep the peace between our squabbling allies, but then we watched in horror as our General grew sick and collapsed upon the stones. Accusations of poison, murder, betrayal, treachery followed...fists flew, blood spilled, then axes and swords were drawn.
We were so lost in our frenzy, we did not at first hear the warning horns from the sentries. We only reached the walls in time to realize our enemy had not come from without, but from within-and, not only in a ironic sense. The Immortals had traveled faster than would ever have thought, taking the secret paths under the mountains, past our defenses, and straight into the very heart of our fortress. Standing among them in rotting splendor, as they surged out like so many blighted ants, was the Queen of Treachery. Our Queen, the one who knew all our secrets, and how to manipulate our fragile alliances into self destruction, paving the path for the Blight's final victory.
Blighted Betrayal: The Queen of Treachery knows and sees all. She knows all the secrets of mortal hearts, and her dark whispers reach into the unwaking mind, telling them the worst things they believe are true. She undoes the strongest of fortifications and sows chaos in the most experienced and well led armies, leaving them helpless before the blight.
An army with The Queen of Treachery ignores all mountain terrain penalties.
When any unit enters a battle with the Queen of Treachery, she removes any positive buffs from, and prevents them from gaining any buffs for X hours. For every mortal affected in this way, she gains X strength.
What you offer, isn't enough
It's not nearly enough of the stuff
You have what I want
I have what you need
How can you call it greed?
It's only right and fair
What I ask of you
So where's my share?
Considering whats in store
In these times?
We'll need two hundred more
~The Joy of Selfishness, Goblin Child's Poem
Aura of Selfishness: The Miser King sows an aura of greed for wealth across the land, turning the hearts of your people and your greatest heroes selfish and cold. As his hoard grows with the strength of souls he has darkened, so too does his strength.
For every coin of gold earned in your cities via income, the Miser King gains X strength permanently. The Miser King makes all hero cards X more expensive to purchase.
Long had we, the Elves of the forest, been confident in our abilities to keep the Blight at bay-through stalking, subterfuge, and the might of the longbow, we could slay any Immortal before they even so much as saw a hint of our sacred groves and homes.
Imagine our surprise when the Immortals struck first. Dark arrows fell upon our ranks as a blighted rain, and we were scattered and panicked-for those struck and killed by them, quickly joined the dead as well. As we fell back, we saw who was leading them-our own former Prince, now dead and Blighted, but still leading a mockery of our people. Longbows held rigidly in dead hands, arrows tipped with noxious blight poison, with an echo of their former skill and aim. All around him, those who had been the greatest marksmen and markswomen in life, rose again to add power to his unholy barrage.
We have no where to run, and how can we strike at an enemy that knows our greatest strengths?
Blighted Barrage: The Blight Ranger combines the greatest of the Elven peoples skill, with the unholy strength and stamina of the Blight, allowing them to move swiftly through dense forests and respond to any attack from afar with a vicious reprisal.
An army with The Blight Ranger ignores all forest terrain penalties.
Every X hours, the Blight Ranger trains a fellow Elven Immortal into an Immortal Deadeye. Whenever the Blight Ranger and his army is attacked from afar or he attacks a mortal army or city, he and his fellow Deadeyes launch a pre-emptive ranged attack, against his attackers or the defenders. If the attackers are killed entirely, no damage is done to the Blight Ranger. Mortals killed by this ranged attack will rise immediately as Immortals.