Return of Reckoning

Eks the Infected walked slowly up the steps, pausing and turning to face the scattered crowds milling about the Apex. The mailbox cast a soft blue haze across his green robes, causing them to appear a strangely unpleasant shade of turquoise.

"Brothers and sisters!" he shouted, his deep voice a stark contrast to his withered frame. Most of the servants of Nurgle were fat and bloated, but Eks was in the minority who had been 'gifted' with a wasted, skeletal form. His bones and sinewy muscles stuck out grotesquely against his taut skin, and if not for the elaborate waistwrap he wore his guts would have been visibly outlined against his abdomen.

"I preach to you today as one, for we are a united force against the unbelievers!" he continued, "Although I myself am pledged to the Grandfather, it is not for me to denounce any who follow the true gods of humanity! Be it known they are the shining exemplars of our greatness! We must come together against the false ones, no matter which of the cardinal four we praise, be it Khorne the god of strength, Slaanesh the god of happiness, Tzeentch the god of knowledge, or Nurgle the god of love!"

At this the crowd of onlookers looked both befuddled and amused, for even among the men of Chaos such labels were not used for their gods. Perhaps, some thought to themselves, this is why the Bird God allows Eks, Prophet of Plague, to walk unmolested within the forces of the Raven Host. He was truly mad, and it is said Tzeentch smiles on all those who have embraced true insanity.

"I come to you today not to divide our force so that we may be scattered like ants by the weak men of the Empire, but to unite our strength like fingers in a fist, that we might deliver a fatal blow to their falsehood! I come to you today in the name of Chaos....Chaos undivided!" At this Eks raised his arms in a grandiose gesture, revealing two large tattoos covering his upper arms. They were the eight-pointed stars that marked those who worshipped the gods of Chaos as a whole, although the stars were coloured a sickly yellow-green...the color of the Plaguesworn.

In the distance something began to stir in the crowds, causing a hushed silence. As it grew nearer, the onlookers could be seen making way, parting for whomever was approaching. In view appeared a man of titan proportions, encased in armor dripping with oozing, red gore. Behind him, his entourage of warriors stood by, though their lust for blood made it uneasy for them to be still. As they waved their swords and unfurled their savage cries, their leader began to speak, and immediately they were silenced.

"Eks. You naive fool. It is not you who dares to make commands. It is I, Hriskarr, Chosen by the Ruinous Powers, that leads this Horde! Look at the swathing masses kneel before me in deathly fear. It is this power that I alone hold! Not you!"

Immediately, Hriskarr draws his blade, striking at the nearest onlooker. His blade splits the body in two, devouring flesh and bone. Those nearest cower, turning to flee. However, they are jostled by those around, and kept from escaping. Hriskarr does not heel. He continues the bloodbath, allowing his warriors to join in. Limb from limb, bone from bone, Hriskarr slays without mercy, lost in the craze of battle and blood lust. By the time he is finished, more than a dozen corpses lay skewered across the floor, irrecognizable.

"-This!- is power." And with those final words, Hriskarr turns, his fur cloak twirling in the air. He leaves alone, with the remains of his warriors left to rot.