The old woman chuckled contentedly as she spun the spindlewhorl between her skeletal forefinger and thumb. The dark slate glistened with the oil, and her fingers were still wet with the ointment. Without lubrication, the whorl and its loom would seize and shatter as she tried to work it and that, as she often stated, would be an affront to the Gods.
With practiced hands, she stretched the wool between the whorl and the bobbin, which hung like a corpse (which it had once been) from the wooden support beam that connected the frame with the daub walls of the dwelling. Acrid smoke, a slight tang of forbidden incenses hidden in the spectral, grey strands, hung heavy in the cool air. A fire crackled in the corner, for light rather than warmth while a small girl, no older than twelve years, busied herself with household chores.
Languidly, the tattered skin that served as a door was peeled back as Slakesin the Fondler, Champion of Slaanesh, slinked into the smokey room. The weak light somehow managed to reflect from the ancient, engraved surfaces of his armour to send strange motes of light dancing around the unfurnished walls.
"Do we know where the Blasphemer is, Seer?" The champion asked, his voice slurred with excess.
"Yes, but no!" The old woman muttered. "He lingers at old Dunkendorf's Tower but has plans for flight. He wants to neither succumb to pleasure nor fall to blood. He has, strangely, some other purpose."
"Can that purpose be known?"
The old woman did not answer but the child did. Her answer stung the air.
An hour later, Slakesin left the old woman's dwelling. The warband was mustered and marched to war.
Welcome back to the second part of Realm of Chaos 80s' latest battle report. As you will be aware, its was a clash between the rival warbands of Ironcron and Slakesin the Fondler (allied with Oozingsore the Blighted, a Nurgle Champion) in the Realm of Chaos proper.
|Gluttonspoor eyes his target but the Blasphemer has only flight on his mind.|
|Oozingsore the Blighted advances alone towards rival chaos champions. In the distance, followers of Nurgle and Slaanesh prepare to meet their foes in slaughter.|
|Ironcorn's forces advance.|
|Nurgle verses Khorne. Twoslice engages Doomaxe before the battlelines meet.|
|Grizzlegut charges Mange and Fang as they prepare to run down the Blasphemer.|
|Khornate beastmen jostle for position while a brutal personal combat rages to their front.|
|The battle at the end of the third turn from the Khorne lines. Note: The blasphemer has to run the gauntlet of Ironcron and Gluttonspoor!|
|Ironcron eyes his prize. His patron has ordered the death of this warrior and Ironcron intends to see that order completed.|
|As Gaj predicted (is he the fifth Ruinous Power?), Throgg the Troll wanders from the field. Can't change the habit of a campaign I suppose!|
|Gluttonspoor causes havoc! Khorne be praised!|
|The fight between the Hounds and Grizzlegut became a slugging match of flailing limbs and snapping jaws (and that was just Dan rolling his dice!)|
|In time, Ironcron charged the Blasphemer, causing a wound but the cunning abuser of the blood god ran swiftly away towards the Nurgle/Slaaneshi lines!|
|Magical attacks fizzed from Jaketh and Slakesin as the main units of the warbands prepared to clash. Small engagements and challenges were fought in the no-man's land between the two forces.|
|Gluttonspoor shows his worth. Chopping through the ranks of the thugs and killing three in a single round of combat. Brutal, thankfully the remaining thugs held their ground and stayed in the fight.|
|Killing the Khorne champion meant that Twoslice could now concentrate on the beastmen unit infront of him. The bloodloving beasts had waited for the one to one to be over before piling in.|
|Fleeing, the Blasphemer escapes the wrath of Ironcron and slips into my part of the battlefield. Could I convert him to my cause before Khorne struck again?|
And so end this update. As you can see from the picture above, the game was approaching its most critical stage, the meeting of the units in the centre of the table. Then the dance of death would decide the fate of the warbands and the destiny of the Blasphemer himself!