It’s just a short story written with no real purpose in mind, and I know it’s heresy of the highest accord for my first piece to not involve Seraphon, but nonetheless I thought it would be nice to share. I’d be intrigued to know what you lot think - after all, outside of a bit of work in the RPG a while back, this is my first piece of writing I’ve done on the forum. I hope you folks enjoy. Daemon Within The Warrior spun around, deflecting his golden foe’s determined thrusts before launching a furious attack of his own. His enemy parried some of his vicious swings but one landed on their chestpiece, scything through it as if it were rusty iron, rather than the god-forged Sigmarite it was. Such a blow would have been nothing to the golden being, but this was no ordinary sword. Shar’tor’ax, the Daemon bound within, shrieked in delight as he plucked the unlucky fighter’s lifeforce from him, sending his empty husk clattering to the ground. Before the screeching Daemon could devour the shimmering soul however, the energy coalesced into an azure lightning bolt, shooting the golden fighter’s soul back up to the heavens to be reforged once again. Furious at being denied the finality of his kill, the Warrior surveyed the raging battlefield around him. Launching into furious assault at the mysterious golden warriors were his fellow worshippers of the Blood God Khorne, each screaming their own debased war-cries. The Warrior noted with satisfaction that they had the enemy on the back foot, and he charged in once more, screaming obscene praises to the dark god. “Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for the Skull Throne!”. Shar’tor’ax hungered. As he whirled around in his dance of death, he felt his thirst for blood grow. No mere barbarians were these ‘Stormcast Eternals’; each one was an exemplar of martial might, perfected in the forges of Sigmar, their greatest enemy. Normally this would be no issue - after all, Khorne demanded only the worthiest of skulls - but these were different. They did not bleed and their skulls could not harvested, disappearing in a thunderbolt to the heavens instead of exploding in a satisfying shower of gore. Still, it did not matter. Khorne cares not for whence the blood flows… Another golden warrior fell beneath the blade of the Warrior as he swung it around in a deadly whirlwind. The blade seemed to grow stronger, feeling lighter in his hands and almost urging him on to commit greater acts of slaughter. He was unstoppable; none of the golden fighters could stand in his path. So great was his skill that soon he found himself surrounded by his own fighters, all enemy warriors in his immediate vicinity defeated. Turning round, he prepared to charge into the fray once more. But as one of his fellow fighters prepared to do the same, the urge became too great. He lashed out with his blade, tearing his fellow worshipper’s head from his shoulders in a spray of gore. Two more turned round, shocked at their leader’s sudden change. He butchered them both. But that was not enough. As the blood fountained from their bodies, he kept slashing and hacking at the corpses, revelling in the violence. It was only the smash of a Lightning Hammer behind him that awoke him from the red mist. Cursing himself for his lapse of control, he hurled himself back into the battle with renewed vigour, tearing through the golden warriors once more. Shar’tor’ax tasted blood, and it tasted good. As the gore washed over him, he could feel himself grow stronger. The Warrior was trying to temper his rage, focus it on the golden fighters. He might feel that what he was doing was right, but in doing so he was denying his master’s due. And as he bathed in the shower of red, and surrendered himself more the the beating rage, his control was starting to slip. Soon… Pausing to remove his weapon from the crumpled remains of another golden foe, the Warrior felt a presence above him. Instinctively he ducked to the side and rolled, just dodging the crushing hammer-blow where his head had been mere seconds earlier. He lashed out with his sword at where his enemy’s head had been, but it was quickly parried by his foe’s sword, and he scarcely evaded the vicious counter-strike. Looking up at the golden warrior, he could tell this was no simple fighter. Clad in ornate armour finished with the visage of a roaring lion, and wielding an ornate runesword and hammer this was clearly the leader of the golden host. The Warrior roared and lunged at the fighter, swinging Shar’tor’ax with lethal speed. But as fast as the Warrior was, this mysterious golden being was faster. Dodging aside with a nimbleness that belied the heavy armour, the figure blocked the wild swing and punched his hammer deep into the Warrior’s chest, knocking him off balance. It was only his slight stumble that saved him from being cut in two by the runesword’s swing, instead passing mere millimetres from the side of his chest. As he regained his balance, he found his enemy’s attention momentarily distracted by one of his fellow worshippers of Khorne. Frothing at the mouth, they hurled themselves at the golden foe, screaming obscene promises of slaughter as they thrust their two blood-slick blades at the warrior. They were killed in an instant, decapitated with a casual swing of the warrior’s runesword. The Warrior saw the decapitated skull, the twitching corpse, the hot red blood gushing from the body... Then the rage descended. Roaring, the Warrior hurled himself at the golden warrior once more, screaming praises more debased and horrific than ever before. Blows rained down upon the suddenly beleaguered fighter, faster than even he could parry. He attempted a counter attack, but the Warrior simply battered his blade aside, unstoppable in his berserk fury. Shar’tor’ax swung round, and the golden figure’s hand was swept clean off, the runesword clattering uselessly to one side. Continuing his vicious swing, he connected with the figure’s helm, and it was torn violently off his stunned body. Clutching it in bloodied fingers, the Warrior howled to the heavens… * Nothing remained but a lake of blood. Its crimson shores lapped against the remains of dozens of shattered corpses. Worshipper of Khorne and golden warriors alike lay on the battered edge, each a broken monstrocity, mercilessly hacked apart. Waves of gore gently slid across the remains of faces, painting the final masks of horrified disbelief in shining red. In the centre stood a great mound of skulls, towering above all else. Arranged in an eight pointed star, it was an obscene monument to Khorne. At its very peak was a lone figure, clutching a gore-drenched blade and the broken helm of the golden warrior’s leader. They thrust the sword into the peak, ignoring the cries of anguish that were never again to be heard. On it, he placed the shattered helm, balancing it carefully on the hilt. The debased monument was finally complete. The figure turned around, beholding the destruction he had wrought. Gazing out upon mountains of skulls, lakes of blood, a land distilled to the very essence of slaughter, Shar’tor’ax smiled. Blood for the Blood God.