Landfall at Razorfang Sprawl

Greetings!

Our Firestorm campaign goes on and several battles have erupted all over the contested Flamescar Plateau. My Sunsplitterz ventured south to fight their next clash, meeting the Ghosts of the Crimson Path on the shores of the Razorfang Sprawl.

The Sunsplitter warband was more sizable one than the last, almost 700 points, but the cunning forces of Death were receiving support from a nearby Garrison and reached the exact same amount of points for their army. These matched foes met each other in a bloody head-on fight where nothing but the amount of enemy dead mattered.

The Tribe Grows...

Heya!

Although life and campaigning in the Flamescar Plateau have both taken a lot of my time, I've managed to get some work done on the Sunsplitterz. I painted up two units of Big Stabbas and have now begun to work on a mob of 10 Arrowboys, which upon completion will give me a Kunnin' Rukk to play with!

A fearsome bunch! They already claimed the life of a Great Unclean One at the Battle at the Vitriolic Swamps, thus showing the Mortal Realms that they're worth their salt.

Some more pics for eye-candy, more can be found in the blog's Instagram feed:

Arrowboys coming up, ready to swell the ranks of the growing Rukk!

Battle of the Vitriolic Swamps

It is time for the very first battle of our new Firestorm campaign!

The forces of Chaos ventured out from their stronghold in the Parching Wastes to take hold of the Vitriolic Swamps nearby. Unfortunately they ran into a hunting mob of Sunsplitterz on the way and a swift battle took place.

550p of Sunsplitterz stood toe-to-toe with 650p of Chaos worshippers. We drew our Battleplan from the Open War deck: an ambush-like scenario where the combatants tried to hold 4 objectives across the board while a storm of magic raged above in the skies.

On with the story!

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Wozoc Squinteye squinted at the sun. The damned thing had burned all day long, shining agony upon him and his boys as they trudged through the marshlands of the Vitriolic Swamps in search of wild beasts to slay. Fortunately the thick smog hanging above them dulled the rays of the sun to some measure, easing their misery even a little.

The smog also clouded the horizon so that the trekking orruks could only see a couple of dozen feet away from where they were. Not one beast had crossed their path during their hunt which had begun at first light, and the boys were getting tense.
"Oi git, ya fink ya can eyeball me like dat an' get away wiv it?" one of his hunters yelled at another one walking behind him.
"Come 'ere ya squig-farmer and tell dat to me face!" was the reply, and Wozoc saw fit to interrupt this exchange of insults before it escalated further.
"Silence, ya oafs! Ya scare off all da beasts wiv yer shoutin' and boastin'!"

The boys fell silent once more, but Squinteye knew it was only a matter of time before his hunting party would fall to infighting. They needed something to distract them.

Then suddenly, as if Gork (or possibly Mork) had heard Prophet Squinteye's silent prayer, a cacophony of distant splashing sounds broke the silence of the swamp. Every orruk tensed their muscles in expectation, fixing their eyes upon an enormous shadowy form that rose above everything else in sight. Cackling laughter and braying filled the air around it, an unmistakable sign that there was a good scrap just ahead.

"Arright boyz, dat right dere is a smeller... an' 'tis a big 'un!" Wozoc whispered to his mob who had slowly gathered around him to hear what their Prophet had to say.
"We's gonna go all waaagh an' stick it wiv da Gork Teef. Smash anyfing smaller afterwurds. Kvestions? No? Good, lez go den!"

The hunting party spread out evenly to surround their prey, and with a deafening roar of "WAAAGH!" they surged out of the smog. As they drew closer to their target, the shadowy mound of flesh indeed proved to be a Great Unclean One, a greater daemon of the chaos god Nurgle. Surrounding the immense monster was a swarm of Nurglings, small and fat lesser daemons that laughed maniacally and rolled around in the mud just for the joy of it.

As Prophet Squinteye jogged closer to the enemy behind his roaring followers, his nose suddenly caught the sharp metallic tang of magic hanging in the air. Wozoc let his gaze sweep the area, and in the ancient ruins ahead of them he spotted a lurking Tzeentchian mage. The twisted creature was hissing with its fangs bared, which made Wozoc very happy. He and his hunters had most likely interrupted some very important zappy business by stumbling into this peculiar procession of daemons here in the middle of nowhere.

Squinteye waved his staff above his head in great circles, summoning a flock of angry beast spirits that he then sent off to enhance the skills of his boys. The ethereal phantoms flew across the field to sink into the minds of the orruks carrying the Gork Teef, making their eyes glow bright green as they ran into the enemy with their enormous spears. Almost as an afterthought the Prophet also conjured up a gob of goo from the thin air before hurling it at the enemy magister in the ruins. The goo-bolt struck the creature in the shoulder, making it stumble back a couple of steps on the ancient flagstones.

Empowered by the brutal beast spirits within their bodies, the spear-carriers plunged their spears into the side of the Great Unclean One. The immense mountain of rotten flesh gave out a wet bellow as the weepwood tips of the Gork Teef pierced it, skin, flesh and bones. The daemon toppled over with the giant spears still protruding from its flanks, and after a splash of marsh-water the monster laid still on the ground. A wild celebratory roar went up from the throats of surrounding orruks as they ran over the carcass of the greater daemon to lay waste to its smaller companions. Two more Gork Teef and a dozen weepwood chompas begun to chop away at the swarms of Nurglings that ran screaming all over the place.

The Tzeentchian magister did not seem to appreciate this turn of events. Mumbling in a strange tongue the trickster did a series of sharp gestures with its clawed hands, tapping into the rampant magical energies that saturated the area. Out of nowhere a stone platform materialized right under the magister's feet, and with yet another stream of arcane commands from its mouth the creature made the platform rise high up into the air.

From this vantage point the mage gestured a herd of chaos beastmen to join the fray. Stomping hooves and frantic braying heralded the coming of the Gors before they crashed into the rear of the fighting orruks who were still fighting the swarm of Nurglings. No matter how many of the lesser daemons got chopped up or trampled underfoot, there were always more popping up from the shallow waters of the marsh.

From the heights of the summoned magical vortex the Tzeentchian mage hurled down bolts of iridescent fire, blasting the carriers of one of the Gork Teef from their feet even as the battle between daemons, orruks and beastmen raged on below. Inspired beyond measure by the swift death of the greater daemon, the orruks were on an unstoppable rampage. One after another the Gors fell to the crude bites of the glowing chompas, the keen edges of the weepwood blades cutting deep into the fur and flesh of the beastmen with every strike.

Seeing that the flow of the battle was turning against him, the enemy mage lowered himself from the platform and sent it back to another plane of existence with a single spoken arcane command. Once back on the ground the creature pointed its staff at the nearby orruks, blasting a black hole in the chest of the nearest one with a sizzling bolt of energy.

The battle between the orruks and the beastmen was tipping to the Sunsplitterz' favour. Despite their seemingly endless numbers, the Nurglings were finally killed to the last by the combined efforts of three Gork Teef. With their enormous spears the orruks wiped away at the swarms of daemons and kicked them away until no more of the buggers raised up from the waters. Meanwhile the Gors were losing more and more of their number, their bestial fury no match to the ferocity of the monster hunters. Both sides suffered losses, the axes of the beastmen cutting down orruks even as they themselves were wrestled to the watery ground and beaten to death.

The Tzeentchian magister saw the day was lost and started running away from the fighting, but Prophet Squinteye had had his squinting eyes on the trickster all this time...

Jumping from one feet to the other and letting out an ululating cry, Wozoc gathered the magical energies that flowed through the swamp and focused them into his palm, creating an orb of pulsing green energy. He hurled the bolt at the running magister with uncanny accuracy, blasting apart the back plate of the creature's armour and sending it sprawling on the ground.
"Ladz! The zapper is down, now stomp 'im gud!" Squinteye screamed at his hunters who were still beating up the beastmen.

Two of the Gork Teef obeyed immediately, sprinting after the enemy mage whilst yelling wordless war cries at the top of their lungs. The boys were obviously excited, and they should. This scrap was as good as won. One of the enormous spears reached the magister just as he had managed to regain his feet, ruthlessly ramming the twisted creature back to the shallow waters of the marsh. When the other Gork Teef arrived, it ran over the same spot twice, hoping to drown the damned zapper for good.

Back at the ancient ruins the last of the beastmen was making its final stand, hacking wildly with its axe before getting tackled and beaten to death by a mob of victorious orruks. A perfect silence fell upon the swamp once more, the only sounds being the humming of insects and the heavy gasping of orruks as their minds settled back from their battle frenzy. A couple of the hunters were poking around in the ankle-deep waters, overturning beastmen corpses to see if they carried anything worth looting.

"Oi, Gork Teef! Ya got da zapper?" Wozoc shouted out to the four orruks standing over where the magister had fallen.
"No, boss... da zapper ain't 'ere no more," one of the orruks replied, scratching the top of its thick head.
"We stomped 'im gud, but da git ain't nowhere t' be seen!"
"Could be it just sank deep, ya know? Deep in da mud," suggested one of the others, kicking the waters with its bare feet.
"Ya git! I's looked through dis whole pool o' dung-water but da zapper ain't 'ere!" the first one yelled back, visibly irritated.

"Calm down, ladz! Da zapper's gone an' good, we stomped 'im alright," Wozoc stated, attempting to calm down his mob. It seemed to work.
"We crumped dese 'ere smelly and pointy ones real bad, dey ain't comin' back. Da swamp belongs to da Sunsplitterz now!"
His hunters took up the chant, repeating their tribe's name over and over and over again while waving their weapons in the air and dancing around.

"And now... now we's gonna put up a camp up 'ere for sum real gud huntin'!"
Even as his followers started to spread out to fetch logs and sticks for their encampment, deep in his heart Prophet Squinteye knew the missing trickster would be seen again.

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A victory for the Sunsplitterz!

I scored 1 Glory Point for winning the game, as well as 3 extra points for accomplishing my first Secret Objective: the Glorious Underdog. By defeating an army with more muster points than myself, I have managed to kick off this campaign with a healthy stack of 4 Glory Points!

I also received one Build Point from my Domain Cards and 2 more from the battle itself, giving me 3 Build Points to spend on improving my Domain.

I used 1 Build Point to build a Garrison in the Vitriolic Swamps and 2 Build Points to add a Fortified Camp to my Domain Deck. Chaos also added a card to their Domain Deck and built a Garrison in the Parching Wastes.

After the Battle of the Vitriolic Swamps the Realmgate disappeared from the Infinity Gears, shifting through space and time to reappear in the Sporehollows.

This was the very first battle of our Firestorm Campaign, be sure to follow the progress of the war in the Firestorm Campaign landing page!

Factions of the Firestorm

Here you can take a closer look at the factions currently battling for the dominance of the Flamescar Plateau.



Destruction: Sunsplitterz Warclan

The Sunsplitterz are an aggressive and relatively young bonesplitter tribe living in Aqshy, the Realm of Fire. Ever since Prophet Wozoc Squinteye burst into the world from his volcanic mushroom, the big burning sphere in the sky has had his undivided attention. Surely such a powerful creature held untold power within it, how else could it float above the world and deliberately burn everyone in sight? With this in mind Wozoc went about his life's quest, gathering like-minded orruks around him on his great journey to defeat and split the sun, to absorb its power and to become the living embodiment of Gorkamorka in the Mortal Realms!

Wurrgog Prophet Wozoc Squinteye

The spiritual leader of the Sunsplitterz tribe. It is he from whom the tribe draws its peculiar name, for it is Wozoc's dearest dream to defeat and split the sun that burns him every day of his brutal life. By destroying the blazing sphere in the sky and absorbing its powers Squinteye believes he will become the living embodiment of Gorkamorka in the Nine Realms, enabling him to hunt gods in the same manner as he now hunts their worshippers.

He has no idea how to bring this great plan about, however, so he merely leads his tribe from region to region and Realm to Realm on a whim. Interestingly (but not surprisingly), his declamatory quest attracts other bonesplitter orruks wherever he travels. Although his tribe is yet a minor one it keeps growing on a daily basis as the grazed and the power-hungry flock to his bony banner in order to witness the destruction of the sun of Aqshy!

Big Boss Grom the Punch of the Shifty Mountain

Boasting a set of outrageous abs, Grom is the brawn of the tribe whereas Wozoc is the brains. Originating from a peculiar place called the Shifty Mountain, Grom's life was pretty uneventful before he encountered Wozoc and joined the Sunsplitterz. The great mound of bedrock on the barren slopes of which he lived was a floating thing, dozens of feet above the fiery grounds of the Realm of Fire, constantly sailing the scalding winds from horizon to horizon. With nothing better to do the orruks that crawled out of the fungus-infested caves on the mountain's sides fought among themselves, the biggest and the strongest inhabiting the summit to leave the weak and the dead dwell on the bottom or fall off the floating landmass altogether.

Being the biggest and the strongest of all living things on the Shifty Mountain, Grom and his few chosen burly followers grew bored over the years. There was just no challenge for them in the weedier and weedier orruks that stumbled into the daylight from the mountain's depths. That was before they encountered Wozoc Squinteye.
On a particularly boring and hot dawn Grom was bashing in the heads of half a dozen weaklings when he heard thunderous laughter from below the Shifty Mountain. Peeking over the edge he caught sight of a Wurrgog Prophet running for his life, chased by a towering Aleguzzler Gargant. Without further thought Grom leaped from the floating landmass to land on the sufficiently tall monster, cleaving off its head in a single blow and landing safely on the soft carcass, earning himself the title "Punch". Because his landing packed a punch.

Impressed by this feat, Prophet Squinteye used the power he absorbed from the slain gargant's bones to bring the Shifty Mountain down from the skies with a mighty ritual of frantic dancing and yelling. Having thus secured himself a bunch of strong brutes and a famous Big Boss to lead them, Prophet Wozoc Squinteye could resume his quest of splitting the sun.

Death: Ghosts of the Crimson Path

The  spectral horror known as the Dreadfleet has made it's way to the realm of Aqshy. The fleet is sailing in the Vitriol Sea, terrorizing cities and encampments on the shoreline. Despite the armada's formidable power, they're still lacking the means to mount a final, decisive attack on Hammerhal, the great city acting as a gateway to the rest of the continent. But there have been rumours of a powerful artefact hidden somewhere in the Flamescar Plateau, that could turn the tide of the battle.

A small advance fleet is sent to investigate the rumours. A great wraith known as the Shadow of Mordhaven leads the Ghosts of the Crimson Path, a warhost of malign spirits known for their swift and brutal warfare. Wherever this spectral host goes, only a barren, grey and crackled earth is left behind, where nothing grows but a mysterious dark red weed. The surviving denizens of the shoreline cities have come to know this crimson path all too well.

The ships arrive at the Searing Sea. The Shadow orders a single galleon to sail to the Lake of Shackled Spirits, where the spectral crew erects an unholy monolith to channel ethereal energies from the realm of Shyish.

Should the rumours prove to be true, heavier reinforcements won't be far behind.

The Dreadfleet intends to harness the artefact's power to open a temporary Realmgate to Shyish, from where the full might of the dead will invade Hammerhal. And after it has fallen, so will the rest of the great cities of Aqshy.

The Shadow of Mordhaven

”Fear not my children. So it is with all things; there is a time for sowing and a time for reaping.”

The presence of this dread spirit is enough to chill the hearts of the living and even the mightiest of blows seem to pass through his shadowy figure. He is known to employ tactics of deception and terror. Rather than mounting a frontal atttack, he prefers to sow dread and doubt in the minds of his enemies so that when the attack finally comes, the enemy's morale is already devastated. He wields a massive scythe to gather the souls of his fallen foes. There have even been rumours of resurrected Stormcast Eternals fighting in his spectral ranks but surely this cannot be...

The Queen in Magenta

”You filth, bow before your immortal Queen.”

The Queen used to be a powerful Dark Aelf sorceress of legendary beauty, obsessed with power and immortality. Legions of bodies and devastated cities were left in the wake of her quest but at last she did succeed. Harnessing the powers of warpstone in a Skaven stronghold atop the Snow Peaks, she siphoned the very essence of Shyish into her body. Needless to say, the Great Necromancer wasn't amused. In the end she got her wish – she now serves the eternal legion as a banshee, forever doomed to haunt the realms.

She hides her ghostly face behind an emotionless ivory mask but is easily recognized by her flowing magenta hair. Her essence is all but gone, but she still possesses a faint spark of magic.

Unimpressed by the slow progress the Ghosts of the Crimson Path have made in the Flamescar Plateau, the Dreadfleet commanders have sent reinforcements: a powerful Wight King accompanied by an elite bodyguard alongside two Deathmages to counteract the strong magical presence of the opposing armies:

Ludwig the Everdying

Ludwig of Asgarth was a Barrow King in the isle of Ossia in Shyish. He was a ruler not known for his compassion but from his swift and just judgements, a firm believer in the unmutable laws of gods and men. His now forgotten kingdom thrived and it's citizens lived in peace under his rule.

The kingdom fell when Ludwig was corrupted and consumed by the deathly Balefire that his advisor and archmage Valarr Lightbringer tried to harness. Centuries later the fire burns still and ever since the Wight King has been known as Ludwig the Everdying. Years of burning unlife have not done wonders to his temper. He is ruthless and cruel and will cut down all who stand in his way. The only thing he still searches is an end to his tortured existence but so far no blade nor spell has been enough to put out the Balefire within. Still, Ludwig won't stop trying. After all, he has an eternity to find a worthy foe to end his torment.

Valarr Lightbringer

Valarr Lightbringer was a powerful wizard from the Bright College and a trusted advisor to king Ludwig. There were whispers that Valarr was the true power in the kingdom but all the books from that time are ashes and there's not a living soul alive to tell the tale anymore.

Valarr was endlessly fascinated with flame and all of it's aspects, as is fitting for a Bright wizard, but his obsession went deeper. In his quest for the eternal flame he dived deeper and deeper into forbidden tomes. Finally he discovered what he was looking for in the pale blue flames of the necromantic Balefire. The flame was truly eternal and slowly it consumed Valarr, his king and the whole kingdom, the name of which has been lost to time.

He is a powerful wizard and  though his body is long gone, he still possesses all of his knowledge. Valarr still serves and advises Ludwig - or is it the other way around?

The Ferryman

For millenia different cultures have told legends of a ferryman guiding departed souls to eternal rest. They had it wrong. The Ferryman guides the vengeful spirits back to the land of the living to exact their revenge on the mortals.

This powerful spirit serves as the chief navigator of the Dreadfleet. His lantern glows with a pale blue light that seems to cut through even the thickest fog. From his staff hang the three Oracles - skulls of dead sailors rumoured to never have lost their way. Unerringly, the Ferryman guides the Dreadfleet to it's destination, from one realm to another.

The Ferryman is a formidable wizard capable of animating dead warriors with an unholy vigor. His motives however, are unknown.

Order: Thule Brotherhood

Lord Commander Amos Thule
Freeguild General of the Thule Brotherhood, Relicbearer.

"For Sigmar, for the Brotherhood! Always onwards brothers!"

-Amos Thule some time during Realmgate Wars.

A stern commander and a master strategist, Amos Thule has commanded his Freeguild guard through many battles across the realms since he became the Lord Commander.
He wears all of his many scars with pride, but he never boasts about the deed of the past. Amos, even at his age, is a warrior to be feared in combat. He wears a heavy plate armour and carries his trustworthy sigmarite mace to battle. As the Lord commander and the eldest of his brotherhood, he also has the right and the duty to carry the Banner of the Brotherhood.

Luther Flamestrike
Battlemage of the Collegiate Arcane, Flamekeeper of the Sigmarsund's Great Furnace.

"Everything that is wood will burn, everything that is stone will crumble." 

-Luther Flamestrike during the siege of Kharduul

Thule and his men often find it a good thing Luther is on their side of the war. The erratic wizard usually keeps to himself in his chambers of the Great Furnace. There he watches over the Eternal Flame and keeps an eye on the city. When the freeguild march to war, Luther usually accompanies Amos as his adviser on all things arcane, but if needed he will also join him on the battlefield, burning everything on his path.

Chaos: Cult Hu

Magister Zhik'Akoot-Cot

There were many secrets on the Flamescar Plateau. Some of the secrets were quite well known, the best kept secrets of Flamescar Plateau. Some of the secrets were more secret, known only by a few. A few who had created the secret, inherited it from others or had learnt it from the tales or tomes. There were lots of real secrets as well, known only by handful or no-one. Is it really a secret, if no-one knows about it? Is it a victory, if the defeated do not tell the tale? History is written by those who are victorious, but that history is rarely accurate or
comprehensive. To learn the real history, you had to listen at the taverns, asylums and at the servants’ rooms, read the tomes in well known, in scarcely known or in forgotten languages. Then learn what was actually true and what was not. Where there was a seed of truth and where there were none.

That was exactly what Zhik’Akoot-Cot, the magister and the leader of secretive Cult Hu, had done. Of course he had the magic to help him, his visions to help him and his god, mighty Tzeentch, to help him. He now knew exactly what had happened, what was happening and what will be happening. Well, not all, he knew that much. But in the end Tzeentch knew what would happen and Tzeentch would be victorious and Tzeentch would reward those who had been faithful. Zhik’Akoot-Cot was one of those faithful.

That faithfulness had led him to the Flamescar Plateau, on the Mortal Realm of Aqshy. There he had made his bastion at the Parching Waste, north east corner of the Plateau. There he had knitted his plans and his schemes to fulfill his mighty task. Luckily the area was filled with all kind of creatures, which he could use as his puppets. Lowly beastmen were easy to bend to follow his rule. The followers of Nurgle were tricked to help him, while they thought to be helping themselves - they were, of course, but only on short term. It was child’s play to trick them under his rule in order to help servants of the Grandfather to spread his gifts. That help would be short lived in the end, the diseases and rots would not last long on this Plateau.

War hungry followers of Khorne were even easier to lead, a small promise of battle and skulls was all that was needed. In the end, they thought they were leading the force, but that was only a puppet, Zhik’Akoot-Cot was pulling the strings. It would have been stupid to expect the followers of Khorne to see through that. And then there were the mortal men, who could be guided to follow his needs and still think they were having ideas of their own.

“Just like I planned”, a common phrase, when Zhik’Akoot-Cot was alone. So far he had been kind of alone, the lone follower of his god on the Plateau, just pushing the others to follow his plans. Soon he has to summon some reinforcements, because the secrets of the Flamescar Plateau had lured all kind of distractions, which needed removals. There were fleets of Undead on the coast, mad orruks with orange skin had erupted from the caves and followers of Sigmar were spreading. That all was foreseen, as usual, but it was still something that only an army could resolve at this time. At this time, the time when he was needed to utilize the secret he was after.

Slaughterpriest Vorax Hackmaster

“Warm blood runs and boiling blood is warm”
-Vorax Hackmaster

Things were moving forward. The demons and followers of Nurgle had learnt the lessons and now easily followed Zhik’Akoot-Cot’s led. At first they were arrogant and not very powerful, but once they were badly beaten by the orange skinned orruks, they started to take things seriously. Nurgle’s grip on Aqshy was not strong at all, but step by step they would gain might. All those steps would directly or indirectly get Zhik’Akoot-Cot closer to his goal, whether followers of Nurgle were a little powerful that time or not, made no difference.

He had already managed to lure those orruks far away from they home, just under his eyes. At the same time the followers of Nurgle got their lesson. When the undead fleets landed on the shores, he was ready with his troops. Both of the sides were waiting for a comet to land, but in the end Zhik’Akoot-Cot was triumphant and the undead spirits were banished. He had seen all the details in advance, none of his followers were slain and he captured the landing site of the comet. To make his command more visible, he created a garrison on the Black Iron Peninsula, close to his another garrison at Parching Waste.

Next there was a need to push back some humans, followers of Sigmar, the Thule Brotherhood. Keep your enemies close, but not too many and not too close. They were on the move on the Tears of Fate, and it would not be acceptable to have them there. Using a Realmgate he moved his warriors, mostly followers of Nurgle, but also a Khorne Slaughterpriest, there. Slaughterpriest, Vorax Hackmaster, was more than interested in collecting some skulls for this bloodthirsty god. He was also important part of Zhik’Akoot Cot’s ploy to lure more of those fierce and suitably mindless warriors to fight his fights.

Where the two armies met, there was a coming landing site of another comet, as predicted. Humans had a wizard amongst them, but he was no match for Zhik’Akoot-Cot and his companion, the Great Unclean One, a greater demon of Nurgle. Once the enemy commander was out of action, the wizard soon followed. After that the groups of human were no match to his warriors and demons. Even the arriving reinforcements were slowed down by a host of nurglings, before the final blow was given shortly after the comet had landed.

After garrisoning this landing site as well, Zhik’Akoot-Cot had three areas under his control and the garrisons formed a nice triangle to please the God of Plagues. Vorax was also pleased and impressed, and it should not be difficult to get his followers to join the next fight. Giving them some namely command and promising a good fight, would be more than enough. In the end they were not that different from those orruks, which he fought against at the Vitriolic Swamps earlier.

Gathering his army, he made more ploys to closer to his goal and the glory of Tzeentch. Soon his army would be too strong for him to hold alone, he would need some help from those, who would be loyal to his god - only. But that time was not yet.

Slambo

“The name is Slambo and I’m here to kill”, said the lone surviving Chaos Warrior after the battle.

Surprisingly he was not actually a follower of Nurgle, like the others, nor a follower of any other Chaos God. He walked his own path, but didn’t mind if some of the Chaos Gods were walking the same path to the same direction. It was hard to say, if he was happy to join Zhik’Akoot-Cot’s army, but he joined nevertheless. There was a promise of good fights and supplies, so why not follow that path.

[GORECHOSEN]

The promised reinforcements of Khorne were slowly moving from the south. They seemed to be enjoying more about the fighting than marching, though. There was a huge army coming, Exalted Deathbringer with his Gorechosen in the forefront, but it was moving slowly and fighting constantly with unimportant opponents. Zhik’Akoot-Cot sent some smaller demons to guide the Khorne on the right path, but the progress was slow.