# Chaos Engagement - Action



## Lither (Apr 2, 2010)

_A mighty leader now gathers armies of Chaos. Supported by hordes of Beastmen, Daemons and Warriors of Chaos, an army rises with one purpose; to crush the lands around them. Armies rise up to stop them, or seize control over the massive army and conquer everything else._

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Temporary Vaulkhar Arkh'aner Bloodwraith stood upon the deck of the largest ship in his fleet of Black Arks. Soon, his armies would be ready to sail. Kislev was his destination. From there, he could march to the polar region, while raiding and burning as much as was unnecessary. Provided any invasion didn't start.

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All: You are readying your amries, and preparing to sail/ march.


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## Samu3 (Sep 19, 2010)

Mist hung heavily in the midnight air it was damp and the smell of the ocean had been carried over through the prevailing winds to provide a pleasant breeze which weaved its way through dark mangroves were the rotting carcass of a huge Lustrian crocodile resided. A flock of pterosaurs lay nestled on top of it dead flesh hung limply from their razor beaks as they reduced the rotten remains to nothing but bare bone. The murky waters of the swamp below rippled under them indicating the immediate arrival of a foreigner, with a squawk of warning the birds took off into the midnight air satisfied with their meal. 

Hulking creatures waded in through the swampland with their knees submerged below the dangerous waters. They numbered legion and moved as one, some would let out a roar of agitation as smaller creatures nipped at their feet under the waters and others forked out their long blue tongues to taste the moister filled air. In the distance lighting cackled in the moonlight and a blue radiance burst out into the skyline to slot in easily with the stars shining light.

Above the river swamps dark figures lay within the trees a stone platform which bore upon it a bloated toad and an enormous creature known only to the jungle of the night as a Carnosaur, saddled on top of the mountainous creature was a warrior wielding a long lance decorated in gold and sacred ordinates to symbolize his authority. Below them had opened a rift in space, an unreality born of pure magic and into it marched an innumerable army, overhead the night sky became filled with the winged forms of countless Terradons and from the jungle behind them came the slithering forms of the Snakes of Sotek.

As the armies of the jungle amassed all around them the warrior stirred and forked his head towards the toad.

_“Ancient one, I have assembled our armies as is your will and the will of the Old Ones now grant me my reward!”_

His answer came not to his ears but to his mind. 

_“Very well young one; Yes you shall you be facing the hated enemy, many of the lesser races have to announced to our minds their presence. But remember young one it is not your place to destroy these ones.”_

Throwing his head back around to glare at the rift in the distance the warrior grunted back his final response.

_“Then let them come, it is the will of the Old Ones that our kind will rule once again, this battle shall be no different.”_


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## Farseer Ulthris (Sep 6, 2008)

Deep within the living forest of Athel Loren, Althiar Treesong readied his household for war. Looking towards the forest canopy, his heart moved rapidly at the flight of the Warhawk Riders. The Highborn turned to to his own armour and weapons and slowly he put on his armour, the glistening armour of Treesong. Althiar then picked up his enchanted greatsword, the jaded leaf, its green metal reflecting his noble features. Then he turned to the sprite bow, it's crimson tinge reflecting the numerous tainted it has slain. The Asrai then turned his attention to the Wraithspear, the spear fading in and out of reality like a ghost. Althiar then turned to the Treesong stables and turned toward to his stallion, Faeris and petted him. "Soon old friend, we go to war in the God's names" then old tingling sensation came into to his chest, the heart of Isha around his neck was ready. He then went to meet his Standard Bearer, his young cousin Saeras. "My Lord, the Kinsman are ready, though..." "What is it Saeras?" replied Althiar. The Noble turned to look at the other Elves and turned to his lord "is it wise my lord to follow the Asur on their war, it is one thing too fight at the borders of Athel Loren, but fighting completely outside it... the Kinsman are not pleased with it". Althiar mounted his horse and turned to the Standard Bearer "trust me Saeras, this campaign is for the good of our home."


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## CaptainFatty (Nov 9, 2008)

Lazzar stood at the entrance of his pyramid, watching the sand as it was shifted by the winds. The enormity of the task he had been given had only recently dawned on him, bringing a mixture of worry and anticipation. It was his first engagement in thousands of years and while he new he and his warriors were more than capable, he also knew this was his chance to rise in the ranks of the kings, to make a name for himself and have a greater say in the advancement of their once mighty empire. When the priest had awoken him and given Settra's message, he was honored that he was even considered by the mighty king, and given his word that he would destroy the threat.

"My lord," Lazzar turned as Khaledhep, his high priest, appeared behind him and spoke, "the ritual is complete, the giant walks among us once again. Your army is ready to march on your command. The ships are waiting, in the northern docks, a three day march."

"Excellent, we move now." Lazzar entered the huge pyramid, now worn and battered by age and weather, comparable with the priests, their grey flesh hanging loosely from their slender frames. Lazzar felt amusement as he watched the ancient being shamble across the necropili. Despite his immortality, he was frail, while the kings retained their strength.

Re-animated slaves shifted the huge stone blocks that covered the entrance to the tombs of his soldiers, most of which were buried alive at his death. Lazzar admired their mindless discipline as the marched out of their resting places, their armour and weapons still in near perfect condition despite their thousand year rest. He finally reached his chariot and, as he climbed into it, looked over his men. _The twisted minions of the four 'gods' will have something to fear when they see this,_ he thought to himself as he lifted his flail, enjoying the weight as the three large, spiked balls hung from their chains. Although he could not remember anything specific about his life, he knew the weapon well, and could only imagine the mighty enemies that had fallen under its might, their skulls now decorating his war chariot.

"March."


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## Professor Pumpkin (Jun 25, 2010)

The Scribe of Destruction sat upon his spectral horse. He surveyed his might army, a perfect example of Tzzentch's might. The Daemons worked away tirelessly, pillaging the villages in the surrounding area. But tonight was the night that the forces of evil would take the mortal realm. Little did they know that Tzzentch would soon rule over all of them, and only the Warriors of Chaos loyal to the God of Change would still be allowed to serve the god freely. The Scribe took great pride in his work, aiding the great god in the Great Game. No other god wielded the power that Tzzentch did, and although it was a belief in the hearts of the other two foolish gods of Khorne and Nurgle that Slaanesh was the most powerful god, and yet this was merely another trick played by Tzzentch. The other three would waste their time fighting each other, while Tzzentch conquered the mortal realm. 

The Scribe knew that his army had to begin the move towards conquering the realm. The forces of Chaos were undefeatable, and soon the fools that stand against them would be defeated and forced into service of Chaos. The Daemons had now returned to the mount where the Scribe stood, and they were ready to receive their orders. The Scribe uttered a demonic word, and the armies began their movement. To mortals, the Scribe had uttered one word.

"Go".


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