“Stormcast!” The bray shaman’s voice was full of hatred. “They killed many. They pay.” The creature was still angry over their last encounter, his favorite Ghorgon had been cut down by the golden armored man-things. “Song says march, go to Shyish…” the beastlord was concerned the grudge was clouding his seer’s judgement. “NO! Blood owed. Blood paid.” Taking out his ceremonial dagger, the shaman began carving runes into his own flesh. “Bring sacrifice, blood moon rise tonight!”

Neeve Blacktalon and her companions were searching for an artifact in what must have once been a human civilization. Shyish had a way of turning civilization into ruin at alarming speed. No sign of life, but Blacktalon thought she saw movement in one of the remaining structures’ upper windows. Screech! The stormhost’s drake was growing restless, too much time had been wasted here already. “Is the key here or not Loman?”

She glared at the priest. “The signs say we must look deeper, it’s either buried or in one of the basements of these structures.” The priest was annoyed to be telling her this information for a second time. Just then the priest was wracked by a vision, a painful message from Azyr on high. “READY DEFENSES, They are coming…”

The shaman was almost giddy with excitement, his sacrifices had been found worthy, before him stood a potent tallyband, ready to slaughter the manthings in Nurgle’s name. “Charge, kill, feast!” The beast shouted. The stormcast were prepared, that much was clear. Volleys of bolts slammed into their lines, the drake let out and ear splitting roar and brought lightning down on the massed daemons.

Nonetheless, the daemons made contact, cutting down some of the stormcast and taking surprisingly little damage in return. Despite their tenacity, the drake would not allow an army of plaguebearers to outflank them and hit their more fragile ranged support, so he took the charge of the swarm, swallowing, slashing and immolating the advancing bringers of rot.

Neeve charged into a great unclean one, slashing it with her axe, doing grievous damage that didn’t even phase the enormous creature. It looked down on her and vomited a stream of acidic bile that burned through her armor. Her retributors also charged the enormous creature and they cut it down. Meanwhile, monstrous toad like creatures were eating their way through a unit of liberators. The battle was raging, but despite their disadvantage, her stormhost had held the line. Just then, the priest re-emerged. “Blacktalon, we’ve found it, the key” he said in a rush. “Good,” Neeve responded, “time to get out of here.”

“NO! NO RUN, NO ESCAPE!” The bray shaman shouted as the stormcast rallied and continued on their path, leaving the slow moving daemon hordes behind them. The shaman was furious. That dragon skull had eluded him once again. The Stormcast had escaped and chose the path of the eye. The saga of the Malign Portents was only just beginning.


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