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Warlord Nygaard looked around at his small fleet of dragonships and smiled inside his disformed helmet. He had wrested command of the three ships from Snorrik Bloodbeard by simple right of might. A quick strike from his sword Puslicker while Snorrik was looking the other way and he was the gods' given captain of this raiding party. The long travel down south had allowed his nurgle’s rot to spread among the warriors onboard and the men had quickly turned into supplicants of the great father.

Even the knights with their powerful horses and the warshrine’s giant hog had fallen victims and were now reborn in the religious fervor borne out of true desperation. The only ones yet unaffected were the hounds, probably due to them being creatures of chaos undivided, and Bors’ crew. The northerners crewing his smaller ship were of a strange kind, sporting facial paint confined to red lips and blushes on their cheeks and outfits mainly made of leather straps and rivets. Their high pitched chatter could be heard over the rustling of the ocean and the blowing of the wind and even the smell of the incense burned on big burners on the front deck traveled to the other ships.

But however strange their dedication to Slaanesh made them act they were fearsome on the battlefield, which a raid of a small fishing village had proved. Nygaard and his men had been surprised to find the village protected by a band of errant knights but the Slaaneshi worshippers’ lust for slaves to despoil won the day.

It was while torturing one of the knights over open fire that Nygaard heard the tale of Duke Rabbelais’ treasures and the quest for Carcassonne’s throne. An idea formed in his pusfilled head; as a knight of the frozen wastes, would it not be his right to take the throne if he collected most of the magic items spread out? What a beautiful irony if Bretonnia’s southern border would turn into a chaos stronghold. He had quickly ordered his men to eat up and drag the slaves to the boats, and now they were nearing southern-most Bretonnia. There would be some killing to do and poxes to spread, but by the gods, Warlord Nygaard was going to be Duke of Carcassone!

Magic items in stock:
Ruby Ring of Ruin (rulebook)
Warbanner (rulebook)
Rod of Torment (WoC book)
Trickster's shard (rulebook)
Blasphemous amulet (WoC book)
+battle report amulet yet to be rolled

The landing had gone well and they had pierced deep into the lovely Bretonnian landscape. (Not lovely as in how lovely a green vale looks under an azure sky, but lovely as in unspoilt beauty just lying and waiting to be ravished and despoiled by a crazy chaos warlord.)

Before them, about a day's walk from the sea, lay the small hamlet of Beau-Sapin. It seemed deserted, with every house seemingly empty, everybody having left when the rumor of northern reavers reached them. But Warlord Nygaard knew of the propensity of Bretonnian peseants to hide in their cellars in times of crisis and was sure to gain more slaves in this raid. He blew some snot in his hand and dried of on the flank of his monstrous grey beast Pale rider and was just about to order the attack when his rheumy eyes caught sight of something fluttering in the wind across the valley.

It was a bright banner, glaring with built in power, declaring that a Bretonnian Lord with his retinue was ready to cross arms with the ravening hordes to protect their own this day. Sizing up the soaring pegasi and hosts of knights of the realm he reached into his saddlebag and picked up the two magic items his hordes had managed to lay thier misshapen hands on so far. The Blasphemeous Talisman he kept for himself but the Trickster's shard he threw to the pus-witch Blubber as he shouted "It's my last one, make it count".

He directed his own elite knights to go through the outskirts of the village while Blubber and the large block of warriors dedicated to Nurgle would hold the middle of the line with the slimedripping Warshrine and Bors' Slaaneshi vikings at their side. The wardogs took the flanks.

The Bretonnian lord directed his knights to go for the throat and they faced against the warriors after having a pre-battle praying session. The pegasi held back and the lord himself stood just behind his bowmen encouraging them.

Screaming like madmen the Chaos horde advanced and then Blubber unleashed her foul Nurgle Magycks. Squeezing the Trickster's Shard in her hand she concentrated all her power and managed to invite Papa Nurgaal's rot into this world. A total of seven knights were slewn from the two units opposing her and the skrimishing farmers lost six of their friends to debilitating disease. The rest lost their nerve and left the field.

Apparently disturbed by what had transpired only the diminished knight unit following the lady of the lake managed to charge the warriors. Before they reached the line the lady raised her arms to the sky and drew down a blessing upon the pure-hearted knights of the realm, and they felt a fortitude never before experienced. Despite this increase in their inherent rugged toughness the lightning quick strikes with giant halberds from the Nurgle warriors coupled with the distracting bussing clouds of flies halted the advance of the knights.

Warlord Nygaard was furious that the enemy had not chosen to meet him and his best in the village and was now trying to manouver out to where the action was. Blubber had exhausted herself for no more rot came forward and the knights proved improbably difficult to harm, the unit champion even claiming the life of the Warriors' champion in single battle.

Then the Lord, a unit of pegasus knights and the mounted yeomen that had scared away the dogs charged the Slaaneshi Marauders counting on easy pickings. This proved however to not beat the case. Despite slaying scores of leatherclad madmen they felt secure in their numbers and pressed on.

But the warriors managed to route the knights who were whittled down to the lady and a single musician and then finally Warlord Nygaard was in the fight. He slayed his way with abandon across the field and managed to catch the Lord who was already fleeing. But before he could even try to lift his sword Puslicker and batter the unfortunate Bretonnian aristocrat, the Blasphemous Talisman lit up and with a crisp smell of newly fried bacon the lord tumbled from his dead pegasus.

The crew of the trebuchet saw their last chance and aimed the piece of masonry smack bang on the warlords head, but the stresses of seeing their field commander being killed by magic not 100 paces away affected their aim. Then they fled to the forrest.

Warlord Nygaard surveyed the field with satisfied eyes. He had lost almost all of Bors' vikings and the dogs but he had gained much more. The magical banner that the knights had dropped still retained some of its magics, despite being sullied and dirty and the Lord in his fall had dropped an inconspicious ring that he was certain was magic. Also the nurgle warriors reported that the scuffling of battle had unearthed a box with the Duke of Carcassonne's seal on it. Doubtlessly another artifact.

That the pegasus knights and the last mounted yeomen had been seen leaving the field with similar chests bothered him not the least. With already five items after two days on Carcassonne's soil he was destined to become the new Duke. By the power of the Chaos gods he knew he would become one of the greatest warlords ever!

Låter som en elak magic phase . Sjukt nice iaf, gillar de fluffiga battle reporterna . Ett välförtjänt item