# Gather round



## Madshaw (Oct 8, 2009)

Gather round young ones, for this saga is one that you must know, and is not one that I can regale while our chieftain is present. For our absent master now hates many things; and his past is one of them.

Your hetman was not the son of the hetman before him; he did not inherit his title like the weakened men of the forests and plains of the Reich. His mastery over us was one earned in strength and battle and granted by the four winds that have cursed him so. 

His father was the one that came before me, the one of our tribe who could hear the gods' whispers carried by the four winds, it is said that the gods chose not to speak to our chieftain. But I tell you this is a fallacy; it is your ruler that chose not to listen. The Gods whispered their instruction to him, but he heeded them not, they told him of his great power and ordered him to take his rightful place as the spearhead that would drive this tribe deep into the heart of war itself. 

But instead he bided his time, each day he would train with sword and axe, spear and shield; he could have bested any of the fathers of your fathers, but he did not enslave them as was his right. He stayed silent to the back of his tribe; he read the tattered scrolls and parchments of our victims that were so readily cast aside by his brethren. From these texts he gained great wisdom that would later serve him well. This quiet man was expected by all to follow his father’s path, but instead he didnot walk the path of the shaman enraging the gods that spoke to him.

In taking a wife he cast down all that the gods said to him, the four winds of rage, lust, schemes and desolation howled in his ear. She was not a woman of standing within the tribe, and in pledging himself to her he denied himself all the chances to rule within his tribe, never would he wear the black steel plate crafted by the smiths of hell, never would he enter battle as anything more than a marauder; he became less than equal even to you the youth of our tribe; for at least you know have a future in which you may carve a bloody wound into this world. 

Instead of this tribe rallying under his banner his younger brother, a far lesser man rose to take the rule of the tribe. In seeing his brothers folly any sense of duty to his people flowing in the man’s blood would have forced him to kill our chieftain for any man that would forsake his brethren in arms; even for the greatest beauty among the court of Slaanesh; must be killed as a traitor and have his example of the weakness that our tribe cannot tolerate. However the brother also called brought down the wrath of the four winds upon us. He allowed our chieftain to stay upon one single condition. The brother of our great ruler made him swear upon his very soul that he would not only eternally protect his woman, but that he live also for his tribe; that he should protect it from all harm and do what was possible to further it. 

This was the day that the four winds chaos cursed the two brothers and our tribe eternally. The wind of desolation brought its clouds of putrescent sickness upon the lands that fed the trade lines we once preyed upon, starving our people. The Wind of lust told both the ogres to our south, and the two tribes of Klaan and Grarkahn, to our north and our east, of our weakened state, so allured were they by the Prince of Chaos’s offer that they began to race like starved hounds into our tribal lands, each hound gagging to be the first to bite into this scrap of meat offered to them. The wind of rage wanted nothing more than to see the battle that these two brothers had denied him for so long, he had lusted after seeing them in a frenzy of blood and rage. But seeing their betrayal was so great he sent his three headed daemon hound of vengeance, Karanak, this great hound met with the bloody men of our eastern cousins, and lead their berserkers from the front of their force, lending them speed and hatred. 

It was however the wind of deceit that saw potential in our tribe, he knew that despite our masters treachery we were still the most powerful tribe in the north of the worlds edge mountains. He saw his chance to enslave us, and still cause the pain that these brothers deserved. He sent one of his daemons, not a slavering horror nor a great and powerful Lord of Change, but an intelligent yet subservient creature of darkness. This daemon made a host of our lord’s wife, leading her away to the west. That very same night our ruler’s dreams were plagued by a crowned raven. The bird of darkness told him of his wife’s possession and of the doom that his tribe was facing. He told our ruler that he held both his tribe and his woman at ransom, and unless he proved himself he would destroy both, and forever torture the soul that was pledged wholly to them.

That morning looking about his tent he saw that his wife was gone and knew that the raven was no false image. Taking nothing but the clothes he wore and his sword he left into the night, on a path westward to find his woman, but alas he was too slow. He saw her enter a portal to hell, and heard the voice of change, offering her safe deliverance in return for him doing the work that the gods had set before him. The chieftains shouted reply was a pledge of hatred eternal for the four winds that had taken his woman. All knowing Tzeentch smiled.

The men lead by Karanak arrived at our camp before our chief returned. Their berserkers fought us well, many of us died with honour our blood wetted the snow as it mixed and froze with theirs. The brother of our chief was locked in a deadly combat with Karanak, fighting to preserve his life, for his very soul would pay the price should that daemon have slain him. 

Our chieftain let out a howl in rage as he set upon the beast Karanak, just as the first of its three heads forced his young sibling to the ground. He fought with all the strength and skill that he had gleaned from a lifetime of sober self training, Khorne was pleased with the battle, as our chieftain cleaved the head that had near killed his brother from the beast’s shoulders the Wind of rage became shocked and flickered in our master’s favour. This shattered Karanak’s stability and sent the daemon back into hell. Upon seeing this, the first of the enemy tribesmen to see this occur lost their fighting spirit and were cut down easily by our hardy warriors. The rest of the tribe began to flee, and they were pursued and hunted mercilessly by our warriors. None among them knew how but it seems that one of the Gods blessed them and granted many of our men steeds with which to chase down their opponents, the great horses materialised seemingly out of nothing beneath our men, lifting them up and granting them the speed they need to chase down those left of the bloody tribe. 

The gods smiled to see such carnage; the red wind of Khorne was especially pleased. But the blood God was again spited by our leader when after the battle was seen to show pity upon his fallen brother, and rescued him and the other wounded ordering that they all are nursed back to health by the tribe’s women. Whether it was truly an act of Mercy or not is debatable, but despite his treachery and cowardice the brother of our lord is still a man of our tribe, and so our ruler is bound to protect him. 

Our leader sent out his horsemen to both the north and south as soon as he knew his brother was safe. Their orders were to report back on his enemies’ numbers, and on how long until they would meet our tribe.

The reports returned with news that our men would have to slay four of the northern scum each for us to eradicate their scourge, and that in they had made camp just four leagues away. Surely they would meet us in the next day’s dawn. The ogres to the south were still a great distance away, but they had great speed despite their lack of any mount, and they were continuing through the night; their clubs would meet our blades toward the next morrows dusk.

Your ruler had great wisdom despite having still not seen a score of winters. He took every man that could carry an axe, sword or flail and headed north to the camp of our cousins. 

That night grandfather Nurgle smiled as we tore through the tents slaughtering and despoiling. Perhaps half their number awoke before they were killed in their sleep. The number that did rouse from their rest were enough to enround our force twice on any pitched battlefield, but they could not halt our men. All of them were killed; every soul that inhabited their camp, every horse, every dog, every woman and every child was killed in our chieftain’s storm of rage. 

What was deservedly a day of rest for our warriors was then taken from them as the sun rose that morning, our chief rallied all those that were left of his warriors and lead them south to meet the ogres. None of the women or those too young or wounded knew exactly what happened, for we did not see it. But it is enough to say that your chief returned with two score of the four that he lead against the ogres, but no man that left was the same man when he returned. 

Instead the warriors who did return from that day of bloodshed were warriors encased in blackened suites of metal plates, head and shoulders taller than any of them had been previously, they live now only for war; and it is for this reason that none of you has spend a second night on the same ground since then. For we must move now to follow those of our tribe who have succeeded in our destiny; and joined our chief in his true form, he is cursed, by Gods and men and by his own blindness and now he takes his revenge on this world. Follow him on the battlefield, obey his words and you will become the sword in his hand, he will protect you as he swore to and lead you to glorious ascendancy. There will come a day when the winds of chaos no longer see fit to torture him and will release his woman as they promised, that is the day we will no longer need him; it is also the day he sees that he no longer needs her, instead he shall need you and your sons and their sons, to become the hatred he holds for everything, the hatred he first knew for the Gods that use him against this world.

I tell you this for I am able to hear the words of the gods carried on the winds, and they tell me that my brother’s tribe still needs to do more if it is truly to release itself from their ire. They tell me now of my brothers coming, so I tell you know to remember your history, for the world will not, they will remember you as fire and steel, death and pain,damnation and glory!

And low now does your Chieftain a great exulted Lord of chaos come down from the hill, Cry for him that you may earn the respect you need to follow him into battle as a brother!


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## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

A brilliant piece... Will there be a story that will take me deeper into this?... Oh yeah, one more thing... REP!....


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## Madshaw (Oct 8, 2009)

waltzmelancholy_07 said:


> A brilliant piece... Will there be a story that will take me deeper into this?... Oh yeah, one more thing... REP!....


thanks,i don't think I will add any more to this one, but I may well add fluff for some of my other armies


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