The Great War Against Chaos Book 2: Scourge of the Empire Prologue Armin Wechsel was a respected money changer in the city of Nuln. His father had held the same status, and his father’s father before him. Over the generations, the Wechsel family had accumulated significant wealth and influence through legal and illegal means. The stark fact remained that whatever his ambition, the young Armin was stalled at the highest station he could possibly attain. Such was the lot of the unaristocratic. Chafing against the unfairness of low birth was fruitless exercise, thus Wechsel tried to bury his frustration by devoting his energy and wealth into the assembly of a priceless collection of rare artifacts. It was not until he acquired his most prized item – a dagger made from the single curved talon of some long dead daemon – that his ambition truly resurfaced. Wechsel suspected that his new treasure was magical and therefore forbidden. This belief was immediately confirmed when he tested the weapon on all of those who knew he possessed it. He discovered that even the most trivial of wounds sundered life from body and banished the spirit of the victim to the Chaos Realm. In the stillness of his mind, he could hear the screams of each disjointed soul and daemon voices chomping and slurping as they devoured it. At about the same time, Wechsel was visited by the first of the voices. It spoke seductively of greater things for him than material wealth. At first he passed this off as his own whimsy, but the voice was soon joined by others. They pointed out the secret flaws of those who held themselves to be his betters. They also opened his eyes to the realm of magic and prompted him along the path to harnessing its power. Deep in his heart, his own secret voice urged caution because the voices could only belong to daemons of the warp. He told himself he did not need to fear creatures which were trapped in another dimension, but his real motivations must be hidden deep. He hatched a scheme to use the voices and the arcane power they could give him but for his own end, not theirs. His personal ambition was to become the greatest man of the Empire who had ever been. He would even eclipse Sigmar himself - the barbarian god had never mastered the use of magic, after all. When Wechsel had gained enough power, he would seize the Imperial throne and cast the voices aside. Wechsel would be the new God Emperor and even daemons would bow to him. He hid his bold plan from the voices and meekly adopted the temporary title that they had given him - the Chosen of Tzeentch. The Chosen gathered around himself others who could be seduced by promises of unrestrained power. Yet more dupes believed that his heresies revealed the true path to raising the Empire back to glory. One thousand years of pointless civil war had provided no shortage of fools who yearned for change. Any change. It caused no end of amusement to Wechsel and his captive voices that the change they desired would be provided by the power of the Lord of Change, the Chaos god Tzeentch. At the poles of the world, gateways existed where the Realm of Chaos, also known as the warp, overlapped with reality. The friction between the two incompatible dimensions produced energy in the form of the winds of magic which poured from the polar warp gates day and night. The size of the areas under the influence of the warp ebbed and flowed in concert with the changing fortunes of the war between the natural beings of order and the corrupt servants of the ruinous powers. Near the poles, daemons could sustain physical form, invigorated by the concentrated power of magic. They could also manifest in other places, either summoned by depraved rituals or in response to events of such horror that reality itself was sundered. These sub-polar daemonic manifestations would eventually lose their forms and potency unless the deviant circumstance which had unleashed them was sustained. Wechsel and his voices desired the same thing - an open warp rift – but they desired it for different reasons. The man coveted the limitless torrent of magical power that would stream through the opening. The voices merely sought an open doorway. In his hidden, secret place, Wechsel's inner voice bade him to open the rift only a crack. Enough to admit the power he longed for, but not enough to release the daemons on the other side. With this power, he would lay low those who considered themselves better than he. Then, with his personal vengeance satisfied, he would reunite the fractured Empire. With the Empire united under his dominion, he would open the portal fully. But instead of opening a doorway for the daemons, they would find him entering their realm with an army at his back. He would invade the Realm of Chaos and cast down its gods. He would rule both worlds, and his power and authority would be absolute and undying. The voices indicated that the rift should be opened at dusk on the day when the sun and moon both stood in the sky at the same time. They had told Wechsel that the process of opening the rift would not take long, but it must not be disturbed. To that end, the Chosen of Tzeentch spread his minions around the city and bade them wait until he gave a signal. As the bright moon rose, Wechsel unleashed the terrible power he had already acquired. He marvelled at how easily he could summon warpfire and hurl it at the island stronghold of those who could oppose him. The gouts of blue flames slammed into the stone facade and cracked it open. Natural yellow flames were kindled inside and soon the fortress was ablaze. The flames spread to some store of volatile material and the building erupted in a fiery fountain of stonework and debris. It was a signal that could not be missed. The explosion threw Wechsel backwards and through the wall of a dockside building, but an aegis of warp power shielded him from the heat and softened the blow to his body. The building around him burst into flames and he laughed as he stepped out through them. Over their crackle and roar he heard shouts and mayhem in other quarters of the city. The Cult of Tzeentch, nay, The Cult of Wechsel had responded to the signal and were busily destroying the eyes and ears of the city. He steered away from the fire and commotion. Wherever his provocateurs were sowing disorder he would not be. By Wechsel's design, there was only one place in the city which was now free of strife. It was there that he would open a way to the warp. It amused him as he strode toward them that it would be the hollow shrines of the temple quarter which would bear witness to his elevation to godhood. It was fitting that the servants of the superfluous old gods would be the first to bow before his revealed glory. Wechsel stopped in the centre of a plaza faced by the Cathedral of Sigmar and the Temple of Verena. From beneath folds of his robe he withdrew the daemon-claw dagger and savoured the power that pulsed from it and into his arm. Do not delay, the voices clamoured. Open the rift. The Chosen held up his left hand, palm outwards and recoiled as he felt a cold touch against his skin. Pressing his palm forwards again he discovered that he could feel a daemonic hand pushing back against the thin veil of reality which separated them. Yes, this place is good. Open the rift quickly. Open the way to power and dominion. The voices were no longer just in his mind. He could hear them with his own ears. Wechsel carefully set the hooked point of the daemon claw in the web space between his outstretched thumb and fore finger. Although there was nothing to be seen, he felt resistance with the blade. As he pressed a little harder, flickers of blue fire wreathed the dagger and the hand in which it was held. Reality's skin was tougher than he had expected. He carefully applied more pressure, controlling his effort so that only a tiny hole would be made - he could enlarge it later if he needed more power. He put more weight behind the dagger and it finally penetrated to a depth of a quarter of an inch. Raw magic bled from the wound and he felt his power growing satisfactorily. Wechsel attempted to withdraw the blade, but found that it was stuck fast. When he attempted to release his grip on the dagger he discovered that it was fused to his hand. "What is this?" he demanded of the voices. The blessing of the Changer of Ways, they cackled. Beneath its warp-fire mantle, Wechsel's hand began to meld with the claw and his whole arm started to transform. Sinewy muscles writhed up the limb and his skin cracked into a mosaic of fine scales. Behind his shoulder he could feel a lump growing, like a bud about to blossom. The voices mocked. We need a body, but your old human frame is too weak to be a fit dwelling for us. Do you like Tzeentch's blessing? The bud on his back burst, leaving a fledgling wing fluttering feebly in its place. The daemon arm was complete, still with its single curved talon embedded in the wound between worlds. Wechsel's torso and other limbs were starting to change and he could feel his neck stretching, his face elongating. "This is my body," he protested. "I refuse to give it to you." You refuse to give us your body? The voices shrieked with laughter. It is not yours to withhold - we have had full possession of it for quite some time! The secret inner voice that Wechsel had hidden away also mocked him. Did you think you could harbour secret desires from us? Mayhap you deceived yourself? Or was it I who deceived you? The transformation from man to vulture-like daemon was soon complete. The only thing that remained of the original human and his possessions was the single hooked talon on the right forelimb. Having completed the renovations of their dwelling, the owners paused to snack on the tiny shreds of despairing awareness that were all that remained of the previous occupant. The Chosen of Tzeentch plunged their talon deep into the rift and tore downwards, breaching the dam. No earthly power could stop the flood of nightmare that began to pour forth. As the Chosen lifted their head to cry in triumph to the sky, they spied a twin tailed comet overhead. That's funny, one of the voices mused. That wasn't there earlier.
That is a very handsome and intelligent question, Scolenex. What a clever panda you are. The answer is that my first novel, The False Moon War (found here in my blog) is a standalone / fall-overalone story. The Great War Against Chaos is the working title of a trilogy which will ultimately include: Book 1 The Fourth Emperor (completed first draft here) Book 2 Scourge of the Empire (to be serialised in this thread) Book 3 Shield of the Empire (patience, My Preciousss) There are plans for 7 more continuity stories of varying lengths after that. They may never happen, but I am so looking forward to the fifth and sixth of those that I might write them out of order. I will gradually assemble my non-continuity short stories here.
I understand that the events of False Moon War are not directly connected to the events of your various Empire shenanigans. BUT Bob and Joe and company sail far away from Lustria in The False Moon War, then they are wandering about human lands. They wouldn't have been major players in the Fourth Emperor if not for the events of The False Moon War. So what you are saying is the Great War Against Chaos is kind of like Lord of the Rings Trilogy and The False Moon War is kind of like the Hobbit? insert witty barb about Peter Jackson here.
OMG!. You are right. I must immediately pad the False Moon into a 7 hour trilogy and insert characters from the Great War Against Chaos into places where they do not advance the plot and in ways which will make it seem like they have amnesia If you watch both theologies in continuity order!!! Thank you, oh wise and insightful panda.