Lord Varon Skullhunter, the presumed leader of the Iron Bloods, had no sense of the wilderness his mighty warband had been disgorged into. There was something menacing about this jungle, as if it wanted to devour you. What was familiar to Varon was the splattering of blood and panicked screams of dying Sigmarites.
Originating from Chamon, the Iron Bloods had taken a realmgate expecting to travel back to their home in the Onyx Mountains. Instead, they inadvertantly emerged in an unfamiliar jungle within Ghur. Before the animalistic anger consumed the Khornate warriors, their flesh hounds uncovered a camp belonging to a Sigmarite scouting party deep in the vegetation.
The butchering provided a reasonable distraction, but Varon demered the quality of his foe to be poor. Even so, the savagery of the Iron Bloods was even fiercer than the Khornate Lord expected.
Blood Champion Koabla Khai roared as he rentched his goreaxe from a duardin’s chest. His next kill, a slender aelf, was too easy as she froze in fear of his mighty roar. Bloodreaver Bhalon Flesheater kicked a hapless handgunner to the ground, then dug his sharpened teeth into the unfortunate human’s neck. The flesh hounds notably were extra restless as they pounced on retreating Sigmarites and devoured enough flesh for the day.
With the Sigmarites quelled, the Iron Bloods soon established their own camp and began questioning survivors. Throughout the night, the screams of the survivors’ submission was matched by the hammering of iron on stone.
The Iron Bloods were notable forgemasters that prided themselves on crafting arms and armor worthy of the Blood God. From the mineral-rich Onyx Mountains, Varon’s warband would seek out precious metals from across Chamon to craft even deadlier weapons.Varon himself was keen on skull sacrifices to garner the Blood God’s blessing of their creations.
The warband’s fortunes changed one morning when the Iron Bloods were awoken by the hammering of Skullgrinder Irox. Varon remembered that day fondly, for in a night, Irox had enhanced several of the warband’s weapons and insulted their shoddy craftsmanship. Enraged, Lord Varon challenged Irox to a duel, but the Skullgrinder easily subdued the Mighty Lord of Khorne.
The Iron Bloods were stunned to learn that Irox bore the mark of the Bloodforged, signifying him as one of Khorne’s chosen weaponsmiths. Irox had selected the Iron Bloods to help him scour the realms for resources to help him forge weapons of terrible power that rivaled the Eight Lamentations. With them, the Blood God’s forces would drown the realms in blood once more.
Varon sneered as he leapt from his juggernaut and patted its side. It was a gift by Irox for his leadership of the Iron Bloods. The Khornate lord spat at that thought clenching his chest.
To ensure his fealty, Irox bound Varon’s soul to his Brazen Anvil until the day his mission was complete. To Varon, that seemed like a life sentence.
As the Iron Bloods’ chief walked towards the prisoners inside the circular camp, he quelled an animalistic fury to rip them apart. Ensnared in burning brass shackles, five of the eight prisoners had long succumbed to their injuries from interrogation or resistance. The scorching chains had burned through their limbs before torching the rest of their bodies. Even through severe pain, the surviving prisoners tried to break free like a caged animal.
Ghur would make savages of us all, thought Varon, or so was the Sigmarite saying.
Irox’s hammering ceased as he dragged his chained anvil over to finish the interrogation. Clad in black armor and brass, the Skullgrinder’s eyes blazed through his helm into the very souls of the prisoners. Varon’s own soul seemed to scream.
“You dishonor Khorne with your cowardice,” Irox spoke towards the remaining captives. His voice was as coarse as charcoal. “Your very existence insults me. Should you share what you know with us, your suffering will be quick.”
He turned to the first prisoner, an aelf of the Order of the Phoenix. He was one of the few Sigmarites who fought well before capture. Irox nodded towards him but the aelves face gave nothing away. Whether he was mute or stoic, there was nothing to gain from him.
“What about you?” the Khornate smith asked the second prisoner, a human freeguilder. “Where in Ghur are we? What is this place and why are you here?”
The aelf glanced at his companion as if to intimidate him into his code of silence. The human grimaced through pain, conflicted on how to act. He let out a soft growl as Irox drew close.
Suddenly the human slipped his burnt arms through the brass cuffs, drew a broken dagger and lunged at the Skullgringer. Irox stood like a statue as the dagger shattered upon his thick left arm. The human bounced off the weaponsmith’s chest onto his own back. With little effort, Irox lifted his anvil and slowly placed it on the freeguilder’s chest.
The man’s death throws were agonizing as flames engulfed his body. After a few moments, the fire went out and the anvil devoured the ashes.
The sight of the man bursting to flame made the third prisoner, a female scholar, divulge the truth.
“We’re in Rondhal near the Ghurish Heartlands!” she cried out. “We are in the Furyoth Dell searching for the remnants of Xarlanth. Please! End this already!”
Irox calmly strode to the woman anvil in tow.
“Go on then,” he said plainly. “Who are you?”
The Phoenix Guard gave a detested look, but the scholar has made up her mind.
“Larisa Melborn of Khardihar. Our party was dispatched to investigate the Dell. Fragments of a Seraphon ship have landed somewhere within this jungle and we were….”
Breaking his vow, the Phoenix Guard screamed. He flung himself at the scribe to silence her, but Varon caught the aelf by his neck. The aelf struggled, then a loud snap came from Varon’s hand and the Phoenix Guard fell limp.
“Thank you Lord Varon,” said Irox before turning his attention back towards Larisa. “Now then, what were you looking for?”
She squirmed, then sighed. “Star metal.”
Iron’s fiery red eyes intensified at the realization.
“Celestite,” he replied invigorated.
“The lizardmen metal?” shouted Koabla Khai..”How is that useful?”
Before Irox could consider killing Koabla for asking such an ignorant question, Varon interjected.
“Imagine the power of the heavens in the palm of your hands,” said the Khornate Lord. “Only the strongest weapons of the realm are capable of breaking its sturdiness. Even our blades would struggle to even dent such a substance. It is this ore that the seraphon craft their weapons and build their temple-cities with this substance.”
“Stories tell that the lizards mine star metal at the realm’s edge of Azyr on passing meteors. There’s a tale of them sending one such meteor down onto a Nurgle fortress. It purged the land of Nurgle’s rot and decimated his forces. So pure is star metal that it can cleanse the land and soul.”
“Which means it can be tempered with to extract the strongest essence of its real power,” Irox interjected. “If what this human says is true, then we’ve found the conduit for our great work.”
“What about the human?” asked Koabla Khai.
“She stays alive, for now,” he replied.
“For what purpose Irox?” inserted Varon. “She is defeated. Her measly skull belongs to Khorne.”
“And I speak for the Blood God,” declared the weaponsmith. “She has a role to play if we’re to secure our prize.”
“What could that be if not to spill blood?” the Khornate Lord said, challenging the Skullgrinder. “She even doesn’t know the location of the star metal.”
“That’s…not entirely true,” Larisa spoke softly. “Not precisely where, but,” she paused, considering her next words carefully, “the ship broke apart upon its descent. My…former comrades were mapping out the Dell and had a general idea of where-“
“So you don’t know or won’t share us the details. What’s to say you won’t lead us into ruin.”
“Lest you forget, oh Mighty Lord of Khorne, that your soul is bound to the brazen anvil I carry,” Irox coldly inserted, steam rising from his anvil and armor. “The Iron Bloods are yours, but you all serve Khorne, and I am his voice and forge.”
Varon stood firm, but relented. If he had his way, he’d hammer Irox’s skull upon that fiery anvil and forge a new buckler for his shield.
Alas, that would remain a dream until the day he unbound his soul.
“Very well. The scribe stays,” ordered Varon. “Tend to your arms and rest while you can. Seems like there will be plenty of blood to spill. Ghur challenges us, wants to eat us and spit us out of the realm. I welcome this challenge! Let us not be found wanting, for a bounty of skulls awaits us.”
The Iron Bloods roared and flashed their weapons in approval.
“We’ll burn Khorne’s fury into this jungle if it unearths the star metal we seek. And with it, great weapons of limitless power we shall yield to reclaim the realms!”
“Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the skull throne!” cried the Khornate warriors.
Irox nodded in approval. Varon glared at him with contempt. One enemy at a time, though Varon. He shifted his mind to the prisoner.
“So scribe, we have much to discuss.”
