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Chaos Warcamp
zone: Reikland

Chaos Warcamp Destruction Storyline

The Focus of Evil

location: Darkstone Vantage, Reikland

npc: Lord Xyshrenth

zone: Reikland

Objective: Statue of the Everchosen

Objective: Shrine of Time

Objective: Chokethorne Bramble

Objective: Thaugamond Massif

Objective: Zimmeron's Hold

Objective: Charon's Citadel

previous chapter is: Digging into the Past

next chapter is: To Awaken the Souleater

Chapter Lore: The Harvest of Souls is upon us! Raegus the Lifedrinker said, adjusting his blood-spattered robe. "Rejoice!"

Thora Tautskin looked after the fleeing enemy soldiers, once a vaunted regiment fighting in the defense of their sacred Reikland, now a routed, disorganized mass of scared men. She laughed haughtily, watching them slip and slide in the mud road leading back to the Emperor's manor at Schwenderhalle.

Bogi Ramsticker watched as the men brought back a frightened prisoner. Given the gentle graces of Thora and Raegus, it would not be long before the young Reikland soldier saw things the way a Raven would see them. It was a glorious day for the Raven Host. A Raven perched on the broken split-rail fence nearby and cawed loudly; at the base of the fencepost, a dead Deathwatch Regiment soldier sat. It was a good omen. Another battle had been won, and again, the ranks of the defenders were split asunder.

Bogi noticed a familiar hush falling over the Raven Host, and many were now turning in the direction of Lord Xyshrenth, who stood fully two heads above the tallest of them.

"Ah... All is well, Lord Xyshrenth?" Bogi asked.

"Much blood has been spilled this day," came the Dark Lord's grating, croak-like response. "Many wills have been brought to the Changer." The Dark Lord continued, "The Raven Host shall reshape the destinies of our foes. Kill they who will not be changed. Change they who will not be killed." His speech ended, Xyshrenth moved on, ignorant of the worldly cares of his warhost. All who heard those words felt the indescribable touch of Tzeentch upon them, for a startling split-second.

"For the Raven Host!" called Ramsticker, stabbing his pike into the air.

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