ANGORRATH'S CHOSEN "Goresire" by Monjoni Osso

Angorrath the Conqueror, Marshal of the Blood Hosts of Khorne, sat upon a throne of bleached white skulls. Around the foot of his throne milled dozens of Bloodletters, going about the grisly work of butchering the remains of a Freeguild host. Past them, herds of Juggernaughts trampled and stamped gryph-hounds of Sigmar’s golden legions as their riders watched. Skull Cannon and Bloodthrone cohorts raced around the host, running down escapees and feeding them to their chariots.

Angorrath stood from his throne, his leathery wings snapping wide, and picked up the great axe known across the Realms as Goresire. When his great black hands closed around the axe’s haft, he shuddered as incredible rage and bloodlust filled him. Among the murderous hosts of Khorne, it was whispered that Goresire was forged by an insane Skullgrinder from a shard of Khorne’s own mighty soul. It was a tool of divine slaughter, and a gift fit only for one of Khorne’s mightiest champions. Angorrath the Bloodthirster took to the sky, flying beyond the daemonic camp. He soared over Hirestel, the realm he came to conquer, his gaze falling on battles occurring throughout the realm. The golden legions of Sigmar’s chosen fought armies of Chaos led by the Everchosen, great beasts of destruction, and more. The Bloodthirster scowled.

All skulls would be Khorne’s in time.

He landed in a forested clearing, his feet crashing through trees and destroying the earth underneath. A small force of the Bloodbound warriors, clad in black and brass armor, parted before him. He stalked past a symbol of Khorne, made of eight times eight skulls, as a Skullgrinder went about her work. Finally, he came to a massive Realmgate, emblazoned with symbols of Sigmar’s now fractured alliance against Chaos. At its foot stood two warriors, kneeling to him on Angorrath’s approach.
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“Bloodsecrator Hellgaze. Priest Helmut. Your ritual nears completion,” Angorrath’s voice was deep and dark, thought wet at the back with the sound of a skull breaking.
“Aye, lord. His essence will be bound here, as you asked,” Helmut replied. Tall and gaunt, scarred ritually and shaven-headed, Helmut was one of the foremost priests of the Blood God. “Should he fail in his task, he will simply reforge here.”

“My lord,” the Bloodsecrator interrupted. He gripped his totem of Khorne tightly, and the fear was plain in him. “The cost of this… Is it worth it?”
Angorrath didn’t seem to move, his arm a black blur as it smashed into the Bloodsecrator’s graven armor. The mortal was knocked back into the air, hir armor dented from the impact, and crashed into a tree with a loud crack.

“Hellgaze, do not mistake what I am nor what you are sworn to do. I may have more gifts than my brethren, but I am still Khorne’s Bloodthirster and I will not be challenged by mortal kind. You will summon this, greatest of the Blood God’s weapons, and we will use it to slaughter and reave all within this realm. The Damned King of this place will die and Goresire will taste his rotten flesh, but in order for that to happen we must be armed appropriately. Summon it, no matter the cost, or I shall find one who will and add your skull to my throne.”

Hellgaze stood shakily, and walked over to the Realmgate. Helmut stood, great axe held lightly in one hand. “Summoning it will cost us this gate, my lord. That is all I wished to say before we began,” Hellgaze said quietly. Angorrath nodded.

“Of course it will. I would expect nothing less from what we bring forth. Now, do it.”

The priest began chanting, mortal words intertwined with the daemonic tongue of Khorne. The Realmgate’s portal shimmered like a pool of water. As Helmut chanted, the portal changed, showing a great wasteland of sand and bones. A creature moved through it, rampaging through hordes of the Dead, bellowing its frustration. Hellgaze stole another glance at Angorrath, who nodded. The Bloodsecrator hefted his totem in both hands, ramming it into the portal and opening the gate to Khorne’s realm. The portal stained blood red immediately, then could no longer be seen as gore covered the vision and seeped from it into the ground. Angorrath heard the sounds of his blood-drenched home, and smiled.

The sound that came through filled the air. A howl of pure, incandescent rage buffeted the warriors and the Bloodthirsters. A tornado of blood drenched all three in dripping wetness, and a massive arm came through it clutching a howling axe. The axe bit into the side of the Realmgate, and the impossible roar grew louder and louder. The totem cracked, then shattered, but the blood tide didn’t stop.

Pulling itself through bit by bit, a massive form emerged. Drenched in hot, red blood, its face a shattered ruin and its mouth an always open scream of rage, it struck down with one of its axes felling the Bloodsecrator immediately. Only now, once manifested, could the shout be understood.

KILL

It struck with is other axe, knocking the Slaughterpriest Helmut far away. It turned its one remaining eye on the armored form of Angorrath, and somewhere deep within its rage was a spark of recognition. It charged, its hooves churning the earth, and met Angorrath blade to blade and eye to eye.

KILL

Angorrath turned his axe to the side, knocking the pair of axes to the side, and punched the creature in its ruined face. He struck again and again, pummeling the insane and ruined creature. It struck back, trying to bury an axe in Angorrath’s chest, but the cursed brass of Khorne’s armor turned it aside.

Bloodbound warriors emerged from the forest carrying chains as Angorrath tackled the creature to the ground. “BIND HIM!” it roared. “NOW!”  They set out the work quickly, binding its tattered wings to its back, its arms to its side. One of the warriors lost an arm as it tried to bind the creature’s head, but just as quickly as it began the fight was over.

Angorrath stood over the bound, thrashing creature and smiled. “Welcome to Hirestel, Skarbrand.”