Maggotkin of Nurgle Vs Slaves to Darkness
The air was thick with the stench of death and decay as the two armies clashed. The demonic plague bloated bodies of the drowned men lumbar forwards, led by their Lord of Afflictions straddled atop his giant grotesque pusgoyle which he rode into battle, their flesh rotting, and their breath foul. The putrid blight kings followed close behind their jubilant lord, spreading the gifts of disease and pestilence wherever they went in the name of their patron god Nurgle.
The heavily armed servants of the blood god Khorne, on the other hand, were a fearsome sight indeed. Riding war hardened steeds their horses into battle, their armour dripping with fresh blood and their weapons stained red with encrusted gore. They were led by weary general, who was determined please his master and deliver every more skulls for the skull throne to earn ever more favour for his deeds.
The battle was fierce, both sides fighting with zealotical abandon. The drowned men unleashed their virulent plagues, causing the Khornite warriors to vomit and bleed from their eyes. The Khorne warriors, however, were not to be denied! They hacked and slashed their way through the waves of these plague pirates, leaving a trail already half decayed bodies in their wake. Each one felled impregnating the very ground beneath their hulking bulk rot with unnatural haste.
In the midst of the battle, the Khornite general came face to face with the Lord of Afflictions as the air blackened. The two warriors clashed, their weapons ringing out in the air, a preternatural laughing high above filled the battle failed, the great game was still to be played even among the dammed. The Lord of Afflictions was powerful, but the general was stronger. He cut the Lord of Afflictions down from atop his pusgoyle seemingly defeated, with this his followers soon followed. Reaching down the general grasped his side, pain seared through him, and he laughed. He had been cut deep by the rending rusted blade of the Lord of Afflictions scythe. Even a glancing blow was enough to end even the most powerful foe, it was more impressive that he had managed to fight on for as long as he did. No doubting the blessings of the blood god helping fuel his victory. For Khorne does not care from where the blood flows. For him this is not a loss of one of his generals this merely more blood for him to feast upon. There will be another to take his place…
The follows of grandfather Nurgle had been defeated, but the victory was a hollow one for one of the Khornite cabal. The one of them stepped forwards today he had lost his father, and many of his comrades had been felled by the plague-ridden host of Nurgle. He bent low taking the helm from the rapid decaying corpse that was his father as he vowed to avenge his kinsman’s deaths. Taking his knife to his hand he slits his own skin as he whispers an unholy oath to his patron master for revenge on all those who lumber and spread the gifts of the great unclean ones. Then breaking the deathly silence of the stagnant battlefield he bellows to the skys, ‘BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD’, and the reply from those left alive…. ‘SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THONE’.
The battle was over, but the war was not. The drowned men would be back, and the young general would be waiting for them.
The young general’s name was Kharn, and he would become one of the most feared warriors in this world. He would lead the Khornite armies to victory in many battles, and he would earn the nickname “The Betrayer” for his willingness to kill even his own allies. But for now, he was content to mourn the loss of his father and to celebrate his victory over the plague pirates.
The battlefield was awash in blood and gore. The bodies of the dead and dying were piled high, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of death. But Kharn did not care. He had won, and that was all that mattered and he was blessed.
He walked over to the body of the Lord of Afflictions and spat on it. “This is for my father,” he muttered and gestured to his men, as they walked away in to the cool still night.
He knew that the plague pirates would be back, but he was not afraid. He would be ready for them.
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