ANGORRATH'S CHOSEN "The Rage of Skarbrand" by Monji Osso

RAGE


PAIN


KILL


BURN


MAIM


The roars of Skarbrand were unceasing. Arrows with shafts of light rained down on the massive Bloodthirster of Khorne, embedding deep into his daemonic flesh. Gore poured from wounds in skin that should not have ever been, ripping into corded muscles made of no substance known to the Mortal Realms. Still it pressed on, impossible rage and gore-drenched sorcery fueling it.


It struck a line of Stormcast Eternals like a crimson thunderbolt. The axe Carnage flashed down in a grim arc, rending golden armor and heavens-forged flesh with equal savagery. Slaughter danced, the daemon-forged axe knocking aside the chosen of Sigmar with contemptuous ease.


KILL


Skarbrand roared again, its ruined armor shaking and crippled wings unfurling. The Stormcast raised golden hammer-emblazoned shields against the onslaught, but Skarbrand’s rage transcended reason and sanity. The wall of sound crushed metal and bone with equal and contemptuous ease. One of the golden Stormcast simply erupted into a fountain of gore.


Behind Skarbrand, a red tide followed. The legions of hell itself were emptied on the fields of Hirestel. Red-skinned Bloodletters with ebony blades hacked into the pitiful survivors of Skarbrand’s assault. Flesh Hounds loped ahead and around, dragging the stalwart defenders of Sigmar’s chosen to the ground with fang and claw. Massive Juggernaughts of Khorne thundered across the battlefield, their hooves brazen-clad and murder hot in their breath, their insane riders holding onto their collars and cackling with blood-mad insanity.


MAIM


One of the Stormcast, incandescent with Sigmar’s golden light stepped forward. “Back, monster!” it shouted. It barely came up to Skarbrand’s knee, and the Bloodthirster did not even look aside as Carnage smashed into the bright form of the Stormcast. Golden armor erupted as an impossible tide of gore surged from the joints in the armor. The golden light shimmered, then shattered, as the blood-drenched and rent open corpse collapsed into the ground.


A figure flew over Skarbrand, its shadow drawing the Bloodthirster’s eye. Massive wings snapped in the wind, and star-lit comets descended into the horde of Daemons surging over the Stormcast. Bloodletters dissipated, hissing, as the light crashed into them


BLOOD


Skarbrand crouched, spreading his broken wings. He roared as his legs uncoiled and he sailed upwards, a massive leap impossible for a creature his size. Slaughter sang in his grip, and it moved in a brutal arc towards the exposed belly of the flying creature. The axe’s hunger for the monster’s blood was Skarbrand’s own.


Neither the axe nor its wielder saw, until too late, the aura of gold atop the creature. A figure in golden clad gestured with its massive hammer and the creature turned, dodging Skarbrand’s attack. The hammer swung, smashing into Skarbrand’s ruined face.


FOR THE


Skarbrand roared as he fell back to earth, landing atop a formation of Skull Cannons and crushing them under his bulk. The creature, the drake, landed atop Skarbrand with a crunch of bone. Blood sprayed as massive talons raked daemonic flesh. A snapping maw reached down for the daemon’s head, but came away only with sections of wing.


Skarbrand no longer saw the monster or its rider. Skarbrand was in a throne room. The skulls of all beings slaughtered in war carpeted the immense room, and they built to a massive throne. A god sat on the skull throne, a being clad in blood, bronze, war, and murder. The god said something, and stood. The god gripped an axe larger than creation, larger than death itself, and strode from the room. Skarbrand roared, and struck the god, again and again and again. The god buckled, and blood sprayed, drenching Skarbrand in its divine essence. Slaughter and Carnage screamed, again and again and again, their daemonsteel biting into the god’s armor, then its skin, then its blood. Skarbrand tossed them aside as the god fell, and reached out with his taloned hands. He grabbed the god’s screaming head and wrenched it off, drinking deep the hot, red blood of the dying god.


BLOOD GOD


Skarbrand’s eyes opened into a scene of untold carnage. Daemonic corpses and war engines littered the ground, their essences leaking into the earth of this place. This… Hirestel. He looked down, to the ravaged corpse of the drake, its head ripped from its shoulders, its bulk laying on top of the golden figure that rode it. Skarbrand stamped on the golden armor, shattering it dismissively. His axes were in his hands, drinking deep the mixture of mortal and daemon vitae on the ground.


A terrible rage grabbed Skarbrand, and the Bloodthrister shook. It cried out, a roar that pulverized the corpses nearby. Ruined wings struggled against divine chains, trying feebly to fly. The image of the god in bronze and blood faded, and all that remained was rage.