NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC - ok guys, this is the IC thread. OOC and sign up is here - http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=489162&page=4 . have fun :p ]

Kaleth Giant Slayer whipped on the reigns and forced skaaleth, his cold one mount forward towards the mighty plains. Kaleth looked over his left shoulder at his second in command who followed behind him, Chroesh, and sneered. His sub-commander was not living up to the task well and he had better start to redeem himself otherwise the Harpies in his force would be feasting on fresh meat soon. Of course, the harpies always got fresh meat, a draw back to the services of such a force, but human meat was rank anyways. Flicking the reigns again he bought Skaaleth to a top on a small raise and signalled for Chroesh to come forward. The other dark Elf bought his Cold one forward and they both sat and regarded the plains infront of them for a while untill Kaleth broke the silence.

"Well, sub commander, there are many peoples out their that we do not own. Yet" He added with an evil grin at the second in command before he continues "Where do you suggest that we start...?"

Te'Pex'Yia coughed up blood, he padded the blood away with his silver white beard causing a patched strawberry effect in the facial hair, he grumbled and looked onwards, even travelling on the very coasts of the Chaos Realms was nightmarish, every time he closed his eyes or looked away he would find the Peninsulas had moved or mountains no longer existed.
IndentHe was pulled slowly by his choking Goblin slave who had been ordered to take him to Naggeroth, there were slaves there which could beat any Orc or Goblin, but first he had to find his way there, he opened his eyes and found himself 200 meters from the coast, he sighed and began to walk back towards the black water.

Teptlax, a Lizardman Oldblood, was busy scouting Lustria. He was tasked by the Slann to guard the land and it's treasures from all who threaten it. He was riding a young carnosaur, dinosaurs who grew to massive sizes and aggresion. Right now, it was only slightly larger than the bipedal Cold Ones his other scouts were riding. Littered throughout the forrest were Chameleon skinks, watching and waiting for any intrusion. Teptlax knew where they were, and was going to one now. He found it and addressed it. "What is your report?" The skink appeared and reported. "Nothing. No intruders." "Excellent." Teptlax loved a good battle, but wanted his land to be free of war. If it was ever threatened, he would defended it. He had done so from Vampires, Skaven, Beastmen, and even Chaos armies.

Karna looked over at Garriano as he dispatched the last orc. Thier force of mercenaries had been hired to repulse an orcish raiding party that had been harassing a city.

Returning to the city, they collected payment and while the paymaster was counting the gold, and the master of arms was selling the collected orcish arms and armour, they happened to hear the location of a land that was of interest to the two mercenaries leaders.

Argorne the Bloody stared wickedly at the pleading winch before him. All around him were the broken bodies of the pathetic towns milita, and burning buildings. Buildings he had burned! The smell of blood iron hung heavy in the air, as did burnt wood and flesh, and he shivered from the pleasureful senses.

"Please m'lud!" The winch begged. She was on her knees, her two small children sobbing a couple feet away at the decimated body of their late-father. "Don't harm me children! Their me life!" Her face was caked in dirt and blackened from the smoke which hung through the air. He smiled at her, and placed a steel gauntleted hand upon her shoulder. He turned around, as if to walk away, his silhouette disapearing into the dusk. He heard her sigh of relief, and he drew his sword.

Filling him with dark energies, he felt his muscles teeming with power. He walked back to where she still kneeled, brought the Sword high above his head, and brought it down upon her forehead. The now identical halves of her split body fell oppositely, blood forming a large puddle in the street, joining so many other little riverettes. In indescrible horror, her children gasped at the scene of their mother.

"Master," Two heavily armored Chaos swordsmen asked approaching him.
"What?" He hissed.
"We have executed all within the city, and gathered their blood for the summoning. However, we need more still."
Cackling, Argorne replied, "Take these children. Then present them to the sorceror!" They obliged, and grabed the wailing and thrasing children, and rode off on their skeletal horses.
"My minions!" He screamed into the air, so that all his legionnaires within the town could hear, "Let us burn the Empire!"

Derjeth, servent of Tzeentch, raised his Blood Staff into the air, and drew in power from the Gods of Chaos.
"Chaos, consume me." He whispered. The dark energies serged into him, and he shivered from the rush of exhilaration.

"M'lord," A double-headed horned beastman asked. "We have the blood that you requested." Two armor-clad swordsmen hauled multiple cauldrons of blood, twelve in all, almost enough to complete the ceremony.
"I need more blood." He said calmly.
"Sire, we have these children here." The Beastman said, he left head smiled and nodded.
"Good. Bring them to me." The children were brought in. He inspected them, taking off his helmet, revealing a scarred, yet surprisingly handsome face. "They will not do. Though I see hate in them....yes...." He hissed. "They may do good to keep around. In the mean time, tell Argorne that I need others. Preferably someone important. Tell him he must go kill more."
"With pleasure," Both heads said.

Mountains North of the Empire, South of Brass Keep

The sporadic cracks of lightning, flickered eerily across the blackened skies as rain poured ceaselessly onto the muddy slopes of the mountains foothills. Howling winds turned the narrow trails of the mountains into viscous rivers of mud, which clung like thick glue to anything unfortunate enough to be moving through one. The sound of battle reverberated around one such gully. Almost unhindered by the unremitting conditions, Caracas hissed viciously as he battered aside the thrusting blade of an attacking Knight with his shield before backswinging his own sword, severing the warriors head. The armoured body collapsed heavily to the ground to join another half a dozen corpses, as swirls of blood bubbled into the mud from the still pumping neck wound.

The Destroyer of Worlds sneered behind his great helm, as he sensed the other knight’s recoil in fear. These were supposed to be the ‘Swords of Chaos’, the almighty warriors of Archaon’s personal warband and yet they seemed worthy of only contempt. As he stepped forward, the remnants of the Knights backed away, parting to reveal Kordel Shorgaar, Archaon’s personal standard-bearer. The champion charged forward, raising his weapon for a powerful strike, but as fast as he was, Caracas was faster, sweeping his own blade low and wide, catching the knight across the thigh. Kordel released a piercing shriek as his leg gave way and sent him sprawling into the mud, blood fountaining from the severed artery, his scream cut short a second later as the next blow crushed his skull.

Caracas’ shoulders shook slightly with silent laughter as the last few death filled gurgling noises emanated from Kordel. Stepping over the mutilated body, Caracas sheathed his sword. This battle was over. By defeating the knights and killing their champion, he had more than proved himself and gained their allegiance (as Archaon had shamefully fled north to hide at Brass Keep).

‘Gather what’s left of the army,’ his chill voice demanded. ‘Do not fail.’

Chroesh looked on his commander with the appropriate level of respect. The young sub-commander considered his commanders statement before addressing it with a well though out and logical answer.

“Sir the Bretonnians have many fine warhorses and the large numbers of their pathetic race would prove useful as slaves. Their lack of physical strength although not ideal as slaves ensures victory with minimal loses on our own part. If we were to strike under the cover of darkness the enemies ego would ensure that there villages would have very little defence as many of their warriors would be asleep presuming themselves safe with the Bretonnian province.”

Pausing briefly Chroesh added.

“The weak shall die so the strong may prevail, and for you to become well paid.”

If it were not for the will of Morathi and Slaanesh, Chroesh would never have take on this lowly role. He was however ensured that Slaanesh had foreseen a significant turn of events resulting from Kaleth’s raids and thus he was entrusted to carry out Slaanesh’s will.

Chroesh waited patiently for his commander to respond to he suggestion. He had hoped that his forced respect had satisfied Kaleth and that he could fulfil his mission without the interference of his kin.

Bretonnia, near the North-Eastern Borders

What had once been a peaceful village was now a smoking ruin. A band of orcs had descended from the hills and laid waste. Now they were squatting in the ruins, waking up and beginning to move about in the early morning mist.

Suddenly, there was a horn call. The Orcs were on their feet within a few moments, looking for the source. It sounded again, closer. Then the sound of hoof-beats filled the air. Looming out of the mist came armored figures on horseback, long steel-tipped lances spitting orcs like fish as the head of the Bretonnian contingent smashed through the orc line.

The orcs scattered. They would be easy prey. With a wave of an armthe Bretonnian knights turned, drawing their swords as they finished the slaughter. As men-at-arms began to move through the village and mop up, Lord Jean Dracon dismounted, removing his helmet. His face was grim.

"Arthur!" He called his second-in-command, another knight, over. "I'm concerned. The number of beast mean and orc incursions has been rising over the past few months. They're slipping past the Empire and the dwarves. Or maybe they're just coming out of the ground. Regardless...We must address this problem."

Mountains North of the Empire, Brass Keep

Amidst the torrential rains, sorcerous powers blazed back and forth between the mountainous terrain around the keep. Blazing gouts of multi-coloured fire and blinding energy bolts blasted large chunks out of the ground and incinerated entire groups of men. Fighting against the storm, hundreds of mortal followers of chaos battled ferociously with each other – frenzied followers of Khorne howled in joy as they bathed in the blood and carnage and barbarians from the Northern wastes savagely hacked apart their enemies. Even the odd daemon and two was present carving through flesh with claws, blades and talons.

Inside the ruins of the keep, the conflict was not diluted. Entire hallways dripped read with blood and had their floors strewn with corpses and entrails. Caracas himself had led a portion of his forces into the keep to seek out and dispose of the ‘Lord of the End Times’, for the gods demanded his demise; thus is the punishment for failure. Leaving his followers to cleanse the fortress, Caracas ascended the dark and corrupted levels of the keep in an effort to find and bring Archaon to battle. Only by doing this could he truly earn the favour of the gods.

The Destroyer of Worlds was not to be disappointed, finding the Everchosen in the upper most part of the decaying castle in a room only a few square meters in area. The left most wall had been utterly eroded away over the years and the gaping hole overlooked the raging battle far below at the foot of the keep. From here it was obvious that the significantly smaller forces that Caracas had brought were struggling against the onslaught and he knew he would have to end this quickly if he was to preserve enough followers to finish off the conquest of the Old World.
At the far side, Archaon stood waiting his blade shining with a golden flame. Drawing his own fiery red sword, Caracas lunged forward bringing his blade down in a deadly arc, but Archaon sidestepped the attack and used his shield to send his former Lieutenant to the ground. Before the Everchosen could take advantage of the situation however, the Dark Knight was back on his feet, leaping back into the attack. Archaon’s blade shot out, slicing through Caracas’ shield before burying itself in his armour and muscle. Ignoring the wound, the Destroyer of Worlds flung his shield off to the side and used his now free hand to grasp the Everchosen’s neck in a vice like grip. After a few moments of struggle, strangled snarls were ended with the sickening sound of snapping bones and Archaon’s body relaxed in the Dark Knights grip, lifeless.

Walking over to the crumbling edge of the room, Caracas sent the limp form of Archaon hurtling out of the fortress and careening into the rocky ground below with a chilling thud that all but ended the carnage beneath the fortress; an unnatural silence falling over the battlefield.

Off the walls of Lothern, Eataine, Ulthuan
The sleek high elf galley cut across the ocean in the morning light, with the glorious backdrop of the greatest city in the world behind it. The glaring sun, reflected off Lothern's white walls, hurt Alhovar's eyes as he gazed back at the city. With a sigh he turned, to see a Seaguard Lieutenant running aft. "Sir! We have sighted Norscan raiders to the east, bearing down on our port bow!"

Alhovar sprang into actions. "Ready the bolt-throwers! Marines to the bow! Set a course for that ship!" Then he dashed downstairs to grab his great bow. When he came back up, a Midshipman was leading Herlath, his Great Eagle, onto the deck. He screeched and beat his wings, disoriented by the change from crowded stable to wide ocean, but Alhovar calmed him quickly.

As he mounted the great beast, the ship turned to the left to intercept the enemy vessel that was now in plain sight. Her high prow bore a hideous dragon image, while her mast was festooned with images to the chaos gods. On her deck, fur-clad Norscan raiders howled for blood and raised their axes to the sky.

Alhovar and Herlath ascended, Herlath's wings beating furiously to gain the momentum for a rapid ascent. Alhovar drew his great bow, carved with the words of Finubar the Seafarer. The Repeater Bolt Throwers on the High Elf ship were ready, and bowmen on both ships began to take aim.

A Norscan chieftan looked up and saw the High Elf Prince bearing down on him, bow at the ready. He howled in his guttural tongue, and a volley of arrows from the enemies' crude bows clattered against the armour of Elf and Eagle. Still they came on, however, and Alhovar raised his bow. Uttering a prayer to Khaine, he released it, sending the mighty shaft down, cleaving into the depths of the enemy ship.

The raiders shouted in disbelief. A single arrow had pierced their ship, and now a fountain of water greeted Alhovar's eyes as he looked down to see what his work had wrought. The enemy crowded around the leak, desperately trying to stem its flood.

And then the Repeater Bolt Throwers came within range. It was a sound that Alhovar was used to by now, the clack-clack-clack of a bolt being fired in less than two seconds, before another one took its place and itself was hurled across the watery abyss. The bolts tore into the enemy ship, rending flesh and wood alike, one even felling the malicious dragon at the prow.

Within another several shattering volleys, the Norscans realised they were defeated. The warchief raised a dirty white flag on the mast, and Alhovar landed on their deck.

"I take you as prisoners for the Pheonix King and the land of Ulthuan," he said.

OOC: This is just an intro... Alhovar will be going to Lustria soon.

Kaleth listened to Chroesh's words with ill disguised impatience.

"But remeber sub-commander, numbers does not always make up for strength. No, only a weakling hunts weaklings, we are after bigger prey for now, follower of Slaanesh"

"my lord" a voice sai apparently out of thin air as a shade suddenly appeared in front of Kaleth's Cold one Skaaleth, named as both a mockery and a sign of respect for the God Slaanesh, "We have found a cave. There are some near-by. We can be there within two hours. There is also a Brettonian village nearby, if the commander so wishes"

Kaleth sneared at the shade to leave. He should have taken his head after the show of support for the Chroesh's idea of raiding a village, but shades very useful. And expensive.

"You see, sub-commander," Kaleth turned back to look at his second in command, " we hunt giants tonight!"

Kaleth flicked his reigns and Skaaleth moved forward as a trumpet blared out the order to muster and march. Kaleth took the fore of his army and was about to signal a move out when another shade materialised at his side. "My lord! The village was hit by a band of orcs. The weaklings fell and in their panic send a Lord Jean Dracon and his knights to the village and they are on their way their now

Kaleth turned around again "Chroesh! Attend me!! Garond, report again!" The shade made his report to the second in command as Kaleth watched. "Well, sub-commander, Giants or lord? i leave this choice to you....?"

OOC- Going on vacation, be back in a week.

Seaguard Barracks, Lothern, Eataine, Ulthuan
Alhovar was pleased with himself. After the nearly bloodless capture of the Norscan raiders, and their return in captivity, he believed that this summoning to Ulanor, Captain of the Seaguard, could only be for good. He rapped lightly on the door, and he heard Ulanor tell him to come in.

"Greetings, Alhovar! Please, take a seat," Ulanor began, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk. Ulanor's office was spacious, at the top of the barracks near the Strait to the Inland Sea. He could look down and see the state of the Lothern defences.

"Alhovar, I have summoned you here on a very important assignment. Your capture of the Norscan raiders has proved very valuable. We have recently had a drastic increase in Norscan raids in the south, which considering their homeland is surprising. It would be far easier to piece together the puzzle, however, the Norscan prisoners tell me that their warchief escaped due to the use of a poweful magic item. This warchief could no doubt enlighten us considerably, and therefore, he must be captured."

"But sir," Alhovar broke in, "If he escaped by a magic item, how will we ever find him?"

"Ah, that is where you are wrong," Ulanor said. "The Norscan prisoners have told me that this item was specifically attuned to Northern Bretonnia, where the chief would go from time to time to spend his ill-gotten gains. Therefore, that is your first order of business- to go to Bretonnia and seek out this chief."

"Me?" Alhovar was astounded. "Sir, I have another patrol in three days!"

"Everything will be taken care of, we have a post captain to command your patrol. This is a special mission for the Seaguard, Alhovar. You will be provided with a significant escort to aid your expedition, and the fastest cutter in the fleet. Arya speed you to Bretonnia."

The interview was concluded, and Alhovar left after bowing to Captain Ulanor.

Chroesh’s temper boiled fiercely within him however he had suffered Kaleth long enough to know his game and not to loose his cool. Chroesh knew well enough that Kaleth only asked his opinion in order to mock and reject his response.

What caught him by surprise this time however was Kaleth’s knowledge of his loyalty to Slaanesh. His mark, although rather large and a prominent feature on his body, was located on his back and hidden constantly by his armour. Chroesh smiled internally which help to cool his rage. Kaleth’s knowledge mattered little as many of the younger Dark Elves worshiped Slaanesh as the latest craze rather that out of devote devotion. What mattered more was that the numbers of Slaanesh followers within Kaleth’s own army remained unknown. Even Chroesh did not know the exact number of men he had supporting him but had been assured by personal correspondence with Morathi that when the time was ripe he could overthrow Kaleth without a major battle being wrought.

Laughing once more to himself Chroesh gave his commander another well though out answer and contended himself with the knowledge that it would soon be his sword taking revenge.

“How short sighted of me My Lord not to realise that you would not take on anything but a sporting challenge. Why it would bring dishonour to your families name if you slaughtered pathetic humans. You were right in seeking a more worthy a foe in the giant brutes”

Pausing for a moment Chroesh decided to ask his own question.

“How many of the rippling hulks of muscle shall we be fighting My Lord?”

Chroesh waited for his commander’s response not wishing to break eye contact out of respect. While he did this he thought back to the shade, which had reported on the nearby Brettonian village. He had an air of Chaos about him, which Chroesh could sense. Well, it seems I might have a useful ally,Chroesh thought to himself as he made a mental note to contact the shade in secret and to spread the word throughout the followers of Slaanesh to follow Kaleth’s orders unquestionably and not to cross him in any way until Chroesh gave the order.

"the Giants can wait. they're too stupid to do anything else. Tis Lord may wonder, and we can not have that. Today, we kill a noble!!" Kalrth announced to the army and was rewarded with roars of anticipation. Looking at the raised eyebrow of Chroesh, he added "The giants will not wonder. I can get a massive bounty bonus from Malekith himself for slaughtering this pathetic Noble. Besides, it is on his orders that we are here anyway. We can not let weakling humans ride their pathetic horses upon our new lands, can we?"

Kaleth turned and watched his army gathering again and comtemplated the support that the Slaanesh follower had in the camp. Klaleth wasn't a Slaanesh follwer himself, he was true and loyal to Khaine, but those who followed Slaanesh were not to be despised. Afterall it was prehaps thanks to them that the trechorous ways of their 'higher' cousinss were revealed in the first place. Manouvering next to Chroesh Kaleth reached over and grabbed the other Elf by the next "Listen weakling. I'm not fond of you, and ou could get me killed. I'll have no weaklings in this army, and this between us may have to be resolved later on. But for now..." Kaleth sighed " look, our king needs us. For now we must work together, Khaine and Slaanesh, Kaleth and Chroesh together, against these infearior beings. Then, the war of the Gods can happen. Now kill well, my brother"

Kaleth released the other elf and whipped Skaaleth to a steady speed as he went to gather his forces for the march to a Brettonian noble

MuhahahahahahaahahahahaChroesh laughed heartily once Kaleth was well our of ear shot. The lack of reaction on Chroesh’s part had done the trick.

The knowledge of My allegiance will do him no good. The coward shows his fear. If he were a true warrior he would have attempted to kill me then and there and faced the wrath of my supporters. Instead he warned me and in doing so revealed his weakness as a leader. He is weak and deserves to die.

But for now Chroesh knew that Kaleth was right. Not that his supporters could not win against the Brettonians and the giants combined on there own but because Morathi had not given the orders to move Slaanesh’s plan into plain view.

Chroesh also returned to the host of Dark Elves that accompanied them and found his own Cold One Knight unit. Here at lest he knew he had support for all those within had travelled with him on numerous other heroic journeys throughout the Chaos waists to the north and were all devote followers of Slaanesh. Finding his champion, a dread knight by the name of Drenack, he proceeded to give a full account of the proceedings making sure not to be over heard as well as giving orders to locate the shade that had given the report to Kaleth and himself before.

It was now well into the day and Chroesh wondered when Kaleth planned on fighting the Brettonians. Chroesh decided to find Kaleth as he had departed rather hastily after their previous chat and had forgotten to inform his sub-commander about any of the strategies he was planning for the up coming battle.

I might not even get the privilege of killing the fool if he continues to worry about me and does not concentrate on the up coming battle.Chroesh thought to himself while an evil smirk spread its way across his face under his visor.

Blood ran the length of his blade, a foul trail of crimson waste, as he yanked the cold steel free from the shoulder of the warrior before him, kneeling almost uncaringly, one hand about the prostrate foes throat. "Now, are we going to be civil? Or do I have to inflict..." Tongue played across his lips, teasing against his sharpened teeth, a finger slid down, probing the wound, bringing a hiss from the mans tormented lips.

He let his hand slip back to his mouth, tasting the red liquid, moaning at the raw sensation of carnal fear etched across the mans face, ingrained in his blood, in his very soul. Let Khorne have his swift death, he would savor each new thrill he could discern from the flesh.

"What I seek, you will tell me where it is...Or I will break you, little one...And it shall not be swift. Oh no, I shall leave you ragged and alive for decades, if need be, feeding the Dark Prince with the feast that your agony shall provide. Oh, I shall sing the songs of your torment for ages to come; for the glory of Chaos and the coming of true pleasure!"

"Nothing...Never"

He sighed, letting his sword slip back into the mans body, drawing a twisted, tormented moan.

"Oh, if you're going to be like that, I suppose I'll just have to do it my own way...I'm not just going to let you saunter off into death without serving my purpose, little one."

"No...Please....The pain..."

Remiel ran a hand almost idly through his flowing black locks, letting a smirk cross his pale flesh.

"Oh yes...It must be terrible; but it can be over soon. Lets just try again; where does the artifact lie..."

Although it was well into the night in the ice lands of Kislev the citizens of Erengrad could not have known it - their town and the surrounding snowfields illuminated brightly in a fiery orange red light, which blazed and danced across the sky like the shadows from a candle flame. Well, at least the citizens of Erengrad could have known that fact if they weren’t strewn throughout their homes, dead, dying or fleeing before the voracious conquest of Chaos, while the city itself slowly disintegrated in a firestorm, sprouting columns of flames high into the air like a tribute to the dark gods themselves.

Silhouetted against the fire, streams of armoured warriors and mounted knights marched heavily through the desolate remains of the Kislev city, while savage Norscan marauders and wild beastmen ruthlessly chased down helpless Kislevites. Those who didn’t die in the pathetic attempt to defend Erengrad, were guaranteed a most gruesome and painful death at the hands of these bloodthirsty devotees of Chaos. Men, women and children met their ends upon brutal axes, picks and flails, were burnt to death or were quite literally torn to pieces and eaten while still alive – if they were fortunate – others would suffer worse fates and none would be spared.

Erengrad was no less than the fifth town or city to fall in the wake of Caracas’ entry into the Old World, but Kislev was a broken nation, only recently overrun by Archaon - it would fall quickly and easily – after that the lands of the Empire and Brettonia were left next in line.

Drenack headed to where the Shades were gathered. As he approached the group he was stopped by a noise to his left. Turning form the path to the shades he made his way through the scrub a far distance until he came to a small clearing with a large rock jutting out of the ground like an ominous finger from the depths below.

Drenack studied the clearing and was about to leave when a shade stepped forth from the shadow of the rock.

“Greetings follower of Slaanesh” the shade addressed Drenack in an airy tone which still maintained a level of respect. “What orders do you bring us from Slaanesh’s chosen”?

Drenack hesitated only momentarily before responding in a fuller voice.

“Is this area secure”?

“Please Drenack what kind of a fool do you take me for”? The Shade dismissed the question with a wave of his hand but out of politeness and respect continued with a full report on the situation his tone never wavering.

“I would not have lead you here if the area were not so. My kin whom also posses the mark have the area surrounded as we speak and non shall get within bolt range of us unless they too posses the mark.”

With that the shade standing before Drenack rolled up his sleave and inverted his arm to reveal the mark of Slaanesh tattooed on the underside of his wrist.

Drenack could now sense what his master also found within this particular shade earlier that day and proceeded to inform him of his masters will.

“You and you kin have done well thus far to remain unnoticed as followers of Slaanesh and for that my master thanks you, however he also warns that his views are not to be supported when Kaleth is present. All of Kaleth’s orders stand as if given by Chroesh himself unless asked to eliminate a fellow follower. There will come a time when our stealth shall be rewarded and we shall remove the veil from our enemies eyes and engage our misguided brethren in the name of Slaanesh for that is his will.”

Pausing for a moment Drenack proceeded with the shades orders.

“Choresh wishes you to spread the word throughout the followers of Slaanesh that when the time comes he will lift his clenched fist in the air. At this time all other threats are to be ignored and we are to eliminate our foolish and blind brethren in a single fury of bloodshed.”

Once Drenack had finished the shade before him bowed low.

“I am my masters servant. My Slaanesh strengthen us to do his will”. The shade’s words lingered in the still clearing.

Rising from his bow the shade disappeared once more into the shadow of the rock and Drenack was left alone in the clearing.