Argetoria, yet again, burned under the flames of war. The armies that tread upon her dusty deserts, her spiralled mountain tops, and her glittering forests marched into battle to slay each other. Whether for noble goals or not, they slaughtered each other out there on the Argetorian soils, and in so doing, carved out their glory, their honour, their story.
It should have come as no surprise, then, that Khorne’s mighty brass banners now marched across the lands. One such warlord was Sku’ndrok, a Deamon of great renown, known to his followers and enemies alike as The Bloodchaser. The Deamon had bathed in the glory of war since being sent down into the Mortal Realms, and now, leading his Deamon hoards across these lands, he found battle in abundance. They had come across the groves of the Sylvaneth as the sun was setting. Those that sang their song to the Everqueen had been caught unawares in the failing light, as fire and brass leapt down on them, hacking away at their limbs, and burning their brethren. A few had escaped under the blood-red sky, but not nearly enough.
Far away, at the same time under the rising moon, the glorious Knights of Ra’s were seeking their quarry. They had heard rumour of a demonstrably vile band of Ogors pillaging their homeland, and so, for the honour of their lands and the protection of the weak, they sought out the creatures. As they came charging down onto the Beastclaw Raiders, their battle cry went up into the clear night sky. And it was this cry that caught the attention of Skog Tuskcutter as he was tucking into his third dinner. The cry of death, of pure, horrific evil. The creatures of the night tore through his brothers, they went for their throats, eyes, and ligaments. He was able to rally his followers to take a stand against the Flesh Eaters, but they had taken too much of a tole, and so, all-the-while munching on the leg of a giant bird he had taken down that day, he called for the retreat. Better to live and eat another day.
It was not only those that called on the blessings of the damned, broken, and corrupted that went to war though on Argetoria’s lands. The forces of Order were well and truly staking out their claims here too. None more so than those of the Kharadron Overlords. Two Overlord parties roamed the land in search of wealth and, well, more wealth. Both High Admiral Vindjeger Gudenebroler and Admiral Aethermusk sought to make a profit out here in the midst of war. They just had to survive long enough to actually make something of their efforts. Unfortunately, not all the forces of Order actually saw eye-to-eye… Both Vindjeger and Aethermusk had recently found themselves having to retreat to save on costs due to crossing paths with the bloodied Daughters of Khaine and the hallowed Stormcast Eternals respectively. Neither had found the exchange pleasant…
Elsewhere, a Runefather and Son, mounted atop their Magmadroths, stood in the face of overwhelming odds. A Bloodthirster champion of Khorne and his Bloodbound slaves had attempted to raid an Ur-gold mine under the protection of the two Fyreslayers. As the two tested their mettle, they engaged the Deamon’s mortal followers. Despite the monstrously powerful attacks by the Deamon, the Runefather expertly caught the beast’s weapon and broke it in his latch grand axe. After dispatching the Deamon and the mortal that had sought out revenge, he had sent his son to take care of the cleanup and secure the mines once more.
(Thank you to Scott and DeAndrea for the wonderful battle reports!)
