I'm sorry that there were no pictures last time, I promise that it won't happen (very often) again!
Dorrin wandered the Old World for many a night, when awake he would slay all the abominations he came across and when he managed to snatch some sleep he would hear whispers in his nightmares. He was promised redemption, honour and even a glorious death if only he would follow the voice. There were promises of worthy foes, more of those that slew his brothers in arms. What more could one who has taken the Oath wish for than this chance to settle such a grudge?
His nightmares started to bleed across into the real world, he would dream of his skin turning to stone, of wings erupting from his back and the world drowning in blood. When he woke he'd find some of these things to be true. The voice told him that these changes would help him overcome his foes.
One evening, still drunk with rage after all these days, he stumbled into a clearing in a great forest and instinctively knew that this was the place the voice in the night had guided him to. In the middle of this clearing was a great standing stone covered in fetishes and grisly trophies. Surrounding it was a braying herd of beastmen worshippers of Slaanesh. Dorrin gripped his axe tight, roared aloud and charged in, hacking left and right. To his surprise his battle cry was echoed from the far side of the clearing as another group of beasts answered his call and committed to battle also.
The fight was brief and violent. After but a few minutes all that remained were Dorrin and a small herd of Beastmen all in red, gold and dirty metal lead by an Elf wielding a glaive. As one they knelt down and pledged their allegiance to him, their new champion. Dorrin understood and accepted. With an army behind him he would seek revenge on the forces of the Pleasure God.
Blood will pay for blood.
Dorrin wandered the Old World for many a night, when awake he would slay all the abominations he came across and when he managed to snatch some sleep he would hear whispers in his nightmares. He was promised redemption, honour and even a glorious death if only he would follow the voice. There were promises of worthy foes, more of those that slew his brothers in arms. What more could one who has taken the Oath wish for than this chance to settle such a grudge?
His nightmares started to bleed across into the real world, he would dream of his skin turning to stone, of wings erupting from his back and the world drowning in blood. When he woke he'd find some of these things to be true. The voice told him that these changes would help him overcome his foes.
One evening, still drunk with rage after all these days, he stumbled into a clearing in a great forest and instinctively knew that this was the place the voice in the night had guided him to. In the middle of this clearing was a great standing stone covered in fetishes and grisly trophies. Surrounding it was a braying herd of beastmen worshippers of Slaanesh. Dorrin gripped his axe tight, roared aloud and charged in, hacking left and right. To his surprise his battle cry was echoed from the far side of the clearing as another group of beasts answered his call and committed to battle also.
The fight was brief and violent. After but a few minutes all that remained were Dorrin and a small herd of Beastmen all in red, gold and dirty metal lead by an Elf wielding a glaive. As one they knelt down and pledged their allegiance to him, their new champion. Dorrin understood and accepted. With an army behind him he would seek revenge on the forces of the Pleasure God.
Blood will pay for blood.
Melondil Nightnoon |