Chapter One
The Norscan's decapitated skull dripped blood lazily from its neck, as Hrothgar lifted it before his hellmetal helm. Staring into the fellow champion's dead eyes, Hrothgar said not a word, and tossed the skull into the pile beside his dark, ornate throne. The Norscan chieftan had arrogantly questioned Hrothgar's battle plan, and had paid for it with his life. The once mighty leader, now merely another skull to sate Khorne's lust for blood.
The other Chieftans and Chosen warlords had gathered, all bending the knee in awe of Hrothgar's splendor. Chosen of Khorne, Tzeentch, Slaneesh, and Nurgle. A great Beastman Lord stood behind them, kneeling next to a Chaos-warped Dragon-Ogre Chieftan, and his retinue of Plague Ogres. Atop the spire above them, Galrauch, the Great Drake of Chaos, perched. Hrothgar stood before all of them, fierce in his chaos plate, eyes blazing with the power of all of the Chaos Gods. Upon his neck was a collar of Khorne, capable of defeating any magics that would assail him. To his left, the Chaos sorcerer Velamas prostrated himself. Once he was a rival of Hrothgar's for the Chaos God's affections. Now, he served him as all else did.
Above Kislev, within the vast north of the wastelands, a horde was forming. A horde unlike any other. Vast as the sea and as powerful as the very Gods that commanded it. Energy, warped and twisted, now permeated the southern lands. Mutants were on the rise, and Beastman filled the forests with savage, beastial glee. Morrslieb loomed above the night sky closer than any other time in recorded history.
It was a time of woes, and change. A time of violence and perversion. Hrothgar sent out word that it was time to march. It was a call of Chaos.