The Templar delegation stood unmoving, their gleaming golden armours a stark contrast against the dark stone of the Dragon Ogor’s halls.
The Templars had brought gifts of great value to Tenrak, from more profane jewelry and precious goods to some peculiar magical artifacts discovered within the Furyoth Dell. Additionally, there was a heap of heads of Khornemarked beastmen they had charged down on the way to the meeting – marauders and scavengers, intruding upon the Dragon Ogors’ lands.
The Paladin of Fate, Vardeshir the Solemn, sat across Tenrak the Lightning Eater, a truly massive Dragon Ogor Shoggoth of impressive girth.
“Your terms seem satisfactory, your Highness.” the Tzaangor crusader spoke, solemnly. “There will be much land for the taking, once we march upon the Tusk cities. Though I will reiterate what I spoke of before: war will come to the Thunderscorn Peaks, it is inevitable. To the Desraki, the Dragon Ogors’ magic, especially of one as powerful and skilled as you, is Anathema. There will be no dealings with them as there are with us.”
The pile of bloody beastmen heads, the more impressive ones obviously marked by the sign of Khorne, stared back at Tenrak as if to affirm the statement.
“The sooner the Clans join the Scorntide war effort, the better the likelihood to fight away from your homelands, but instead where much can be gained – and where…” his gaze turned towards a group of Corvus Cabalists out in the courtyard – “…others may die for your cause.”
Corvus Cabal warbands were excellent cannon fodder, and easily motivated.
Tenrak the Lightning Eater’s forces, though – they could have an impact on the Hellscorn war which was not to be underestimated.
