(The Heresiarch’s Synod and Hashrakul the Interfector land on the Slidecrown Isles)
Perhaps he should not have called Lord Andal “the Prevaricator” to his face, Hashrakul mused. The Goroan leaned over the railing of the landing ship, assessing the thin strip of beach bracketed between walls of mangrove swamps. No welcoming party from the locals; no shoreline defenders. The Myrmidon still suspected that Andal had nominated him to lead the expedition to the Slidecrown Isles as a way to be rid of him, but it seemed that the Prevaricator was not so spiteful as to completely sabotage the expedition out of hand.
A babel of tongues filled the air as the aspirants and cultists that formed the bulk of the expedition began to disembark. This “Synod” has much potential, Interfector, but you must sift the aether-gold from dust and dross. Find the ones that are worthy of joining our Many-Colored Band, he had been ordered, and expend the rest as you see fit. Hashrakul vaulted over the railing, splashing down onto the shallows beside a spluttering duardin of the Coin Lords driven nose-deep into the saltwater. The Myrmidon chuckled and considered letting the thrashing Chamoni drown under the weight of his own armor, before relenting and picking up the blacksmith by the crest of his helmet. The duardin began to thank Hashrakul, only to let out an indignant yelp as the Goroan tossed him towards the beach.
The aspirants hailed from a dizzying array of cultures and creeds: painted warriors of the Darkoath, Chamoni warsmiths of the Coin Lords, capering crow cultists, the mutilated torturers of the Remade, and a dozen more warbands besides. A Decuriarch sidled up to Hashrakul and barked quick orders to his comrades, armored legionaries moving to secure the perimeter of the landing. Disciplined. Professional. The Myrmidon looked to his Theridons and motioned with his chin. The other Goroans quietly readied their axes and joined the legionaries at the perimeter.
The Decuriarch turned to the towering Goroan and spoke, voice sibilant. “Andal the Heresiarch.” Spit. “You named him well, Interfector. Andal the Prevaricator. It is as I have said to you. He intends for us to never return from this green hell. You know our offer. The Dark Creed has allies everywhere. Even here in the depths of Ghyran. At your word, I can arrange safe passage. I am sure the First Prince will have a use for your talents.”
“A generous offer. Fortuitous. I have had time to consider. Volunteering your services solves a…vexing dilemma. Come, walk beside me Decuriarch. Let us call the Synod to order.”
With the beachhead secured, the squabbling priests, prophets and warlords gathered around Hashrakul the Interfector. Excited, resentful, ecstatic. Hashrakul read them as a gladiator reads the crowd. Good.
“Aspirants! You come to curry the favor of Andal the Heresiarch, warlord of the Many-Colored Band, Undivided prophet of the Five Gods of Chaos–”
“Yes-yes!”
Hashrakul glared at Eekrek Not-a-Rat. The sorcerer (most definitely not a skaven) wisely returned to silence.
“By the authority vested in me by the Heresiarch, I convene our little synod. The first order of business is of course, the traditional blood sacrifice to the gods.”
With that the Myrmidon drove his glaive through the Decuriarch’s guts, punching clean through the surprised conspirator’s armor. Around the camp, the other legionaries fell to Goroan axes, hellforged blades proving more than a match for brigandine and horned helms. Hashrakul leered down at the legionary squirming and gasping for breath at his feet. “Thank you for volunteering yourself, Decuriarch. Your traitor blood sanctifies our holy expedition.”
The Goroan rose to his full height and towered over the other warleaders. “To serve Andal the Heresiarch is to serve ALL the gods of Chaos, great and small! To join the ranks of the Many-Colored Band is to have our will bound together. Undivided! There can be room for no other! Masters. Lords. Princes.” The Interfector punctuated each word with a jab of his glaive.
“If you seek his favor, then your loyalty, like your faith, must be Undivided. These so-called legionaries are the best, toughest, worthiest among all of you small ones. And yet I destroy them because their traitor hearts are sworn to another. They are of no use to the Heresiarch. As for the rest of you? spit I see only meat and maggots gathered before me, and such will be my report to the Heresiarch, until you prove to be something more than that.”
“Lord Andal’s desires are simple. Seek out the treasures of this land. I will assess the offerings. I will judge your worth. Pray to the gods that I do not find your efforts wanting.”
