Surtha Ek, Champion of the Ever-Demanding Gods, looked upon a rival of his. One who had stepped into his path more than he found wanting - a foolish aspirant of Archaeon’s great march and in the great eyes of the Black Marshal, little more than one of the countless exalted champions whom vye for his fickle favor.
Khrak Hellmaster, his title cried out to the thunderous crashes of the Warp-called storm brewing since their warbands were clashing around the Sigmarite fortress’ influence for what must be months now. The blood-stained armours of the Khornate warriors marching for this last offence to Surtha’s Path to Glory. The singular truth in this entire campaign; all banners must bow to one greater or the self-fulfilling destruction of Chaos will devour oneself.
In that, Surtha Ek was not surprised when the blood-hungry dog howled out his name on a hill holding his banner.
“I challenge you, Surtha Ek. Horsemaster of None. Lesser Brother to the Wandering Vessel. Arrogant Caller! Your skull for the Skull Throne! Your blood for our Blood God! Whether to go to him in glory or die in the dirt whimpering with your sorted schemes you failed to drive the whelps of Sigmar with.” The burning helmed Lord pointed his axe to the gathering other, who looked upon his rival with a quiet acceptance.
“Face me on your boots or are you as craven as you appear?”
There was a silence between the two, the air hung with eagerness from both parties and even the feel of Powers beyond them watched in intrigue. A mimicry of the great Betrayal at the Gates of Ayzr with the Bloodbound reverting to their arrogance bloodlust at the eve of victory.
“Very well.” Surtha answered finally, taking his axe from his charioteer and the daemon within seethed hungrily. “Just to end your asinine mewling.” For seemingly the first time since their starting campaign, the Chaos Lord stepped off his vehicle and noticeably his steeds nickered and clicked in daemonic tongues. The ground rumbled softly as his boots clicked and winds nipped at his furred cloak.
From the visors, an eye glared banefully upon Khrak before pulling his mace from his belt. “I, Surtha Ek, accept your challenge before the Gods! Their eye shall behold the truest of their champions this day as He take his rival’s soul for their want and this fortress of soft gold his conquest!” Surtha howled out, not to Khrak but to the Gods themselves and their answer was a multi-hued crash of lightning in the black cloud ahead. They have heard his announcement and a otherworldly sound growled in attendance for however long.
With a roar of bloodthirst, Khrak Hellmaster leapt from his height to meet Surtha with his wrath-forged axe and brass-clad shield in his fists. His weight sent a soft tremor of power through the ground before the Chaos Lord twice the size of any man lunged with the strength of a minotaur’s progeny. Surtha Ek moved aside from the wide arc meant for his neck, motioning for each swing and shielded thrust edged with horns and bladed jowls in the shape of a daemon’s screaming maw.
The two circled and the warbands cheered for the blood and soul of their masters’ rivals. Shields and drums starting to beat to the rhythm, the two becoming enthralled in the ancient ritual that spans beyond all realms and before...and after.
When Surtha struck, he struck with the hammer of his daemon-blessed strength. His mace smashed against the hell-face of Khrak’s shield. Each strike was a scream of aether-blessed powers. When his rival lunged to catch the swing, the opposing Ek slammed his horned knee against the barrier and with his bearded axe biting on the edge of its kite, used all of his strength and weight to whirl the Conqueror of the Chained Wrathgate off his feet.
Shield ripped from the Khornate Lord’s hand, Surtha tossed the great obstacle aside as they both rolled back to their feet into a melee most fierce. This time, it was Ek who struck with the most ferocity. Axe slid by its head, he slashed across his rival’s marked stomach with the hiss of hellish armour tasting a biting wound before a crash of horned helm slammed onto helm, making Khrak reel back into a snarling curse.
“You dare!?” He snapped before an arrow of eye-biting star piercing into his neck, retching a fouler outcry that would have killed a lesser man as this missile of horrific power exited through his ribs.
Khrak Hellmaster, Lord chosen and blessed by Khorne, The Beheader of the 1,000 Sigmarite Foremen, The Master of the Bloodthirster Khas’ha-bur, fell not to a fellow Lord of Chaos but the fate of a cursed star loosed by a Knight-Venator.
The honour of his kill stolen and Surtha Ek howled in fury. His head snapped up to see the killer and from the bulwark, the winged Prosecutors swept on the field like carrion birds seeking the warbands’ end. Rolling from a lace of arrows, the hateful lord smashed a warrior out of the air and threw his axe into another’s skull. More of the arrowed volley fell from the sky as the warriors of Sigmar took this opportunity to behead the warriors of Chaos from their leaders. Grabbing Khrak’s shield, he took cover behind as it took the blunt of the fire.
“Damn you and your man-god!” He shouted, “I will burn you all for this insult!”
