(I'm not quite sure if a chaos god is capable of what happens in this post, if you disagree with it, I'll edit it.)

Bjorn had throughly searched the large, beached ship and had found absolutely nothing of interest except more corpses of the murdered men. He sat on the tilted top deck of the ship, staring out at the sea despairingly. Damned Lustria! He had found no direction from the very god who directed him here in the first place! It frustrated him to no end, as well as puzzled him. Was he to simply live here for the rest of his days? Was Tzeentch exiling him from his own people for some mistake he had made in his travels? He had no answer for it, except for the newly redoubled determination to please the Changer of Ways. If it was exile, perhaps Tzeentch would let him return home. If it wasn't.. there was still nothing wrong with pleasing his patron deity. He chuckled to himself as he got to his feet, the wood of the deck creaking beneath him. Then, it creaked some more. The creaking didn't stop as he looked down at the floor beneath him and held completely still. Then, there were footsteps. There were dozens of footsteps actually, Bjorn teh Dreadful quickly decided. Then came unnatural moaning, that of spirits, the dead, and the wind in the chaos wastes. Bjorn looked to his right, to the hatch leading below deck. It had suddenly burst open and what he had recently come to believe were corpses crawled from it. They were covered infected wounds and bruised skin. Their eyes and teeth were yellow, and their hair fell out slowly. What was most prominent though was a familiar symbol branded on their skulls. It was the mark of Khorne. The blackened imprint of the blood-god's emblem occasionally flickered red, as if it were burnt wood covered in dying embers.

Bjorn began to laugh as the shambling corpses stumbled towards him. Beneath his helmet he grinned wildly with glee. He had just figured out his purpose, he knew what Tzeentch intended to do with him. He grabbed his two gray-blue axes from his belt and shifted his weight into a better stance. He observed his opposition as they advanced to take him down by sheer numbers. He thought there were at least a dozen. Judinging by their lack of speed and agility none would be able to even harm him in his suit of armor, but if they all attacked him at once, perhaps pulling him to the ground, he'd be dead. He's fought far harder fights, but he did need a warm-up for his adventure in this new land. He cackled at the shambling corpses and bellowed at them, "Khorne, idiot! I will see whatever ambitions you have set forth in this land destroyed! I am Bjorn the Dreadful, Norseman, Chosen of the Changer of Ways!" He roared like a great beast on the attack and charged at the undead servants of Khorne.