They say that everything goes around in a circle and so it seems as here I am starting a new Warriors of Chaos army. This one actually kind of follows on as the background ties in with the old Devotees of Elazar, and in particular with the Storm God narrative campaign that I wrote...
First off some fluff!
Rumpolt Staudinger panicked as he tripped over a rock underfoot. At one time he’d been weary of his drawn out existence but now suddenly faced with his potential mortality he found himself desperate to survive. The daemon Elazar had used him as a pawn and as a chronicler of all of the being’s nefarious deeds and to aid him in this task he’d extended and twisted the old man’s life out for a great many generations more than he should ever have seen. And now in hindsight he realised it had all been destined to lead to that one specific point in time. Elazar had sent Rumpolt into the north to a massive cleft in the earth at the foot of which The Storm God slumbered. An ancient Shaggoth, kin to those other names dreaded of their kind - Krakanrok The Black and Kholek Suneater. Aarakturious Stormfather had spent centuries in hibernation, awaiting the great storm that would summon him to war once more.
A being aflame with ambition Elazar The Glorified sought to summon the very storm that would awaken Aarakturious. Alongside a coven of sorcerers sworn to his service they channelled vast energies to birth vast black clouds that crackled with the pent up fury of the storm. The summoning destroyed the minds of the sorcerers and the chaos energies warped their forms into hideous mutated spawn but for a Daemon Prince of Elazar’s standing the energies were easy to bear with very little strain.
The terrible storm that followed was a thing of nightmares. Thunderclaps sounded and the world shook at their roars as if the sky was splintering overhead under such tremendous force. Hail and lightning lashed the land amidst such chaos the Storm God stirred. The Daemon Prince Elazar demanded fealty of the ancient Shaggoth and Aarakturious responded with a deafening roar that made the thunder overhead seem tame. The Shaggoth climbed from the cleft in which he’d slumbered to the cliff tops above. Again the Daemon Prince demanded the fealty of the Storm God and was in turn swatted aside with contemptuous ease. The tribes that surrounded the lands where the Storm God slumbered had built a temple to the sleeping behemoth and the chaos gods that he served and to this temple Aarakturious strode bathing in the lightning that now struck repeatedly at his titanic form.
His pride now a stinging wound in his daemonic heart, Elazar The Glorified soared to the temple built to honour Aarakturious and the ground shook as the two beings duelled amidst the great pillars risen by the tribes in tribute to their infernal patrons. The Chaos Gods watched the contest, the storm had drawn their attention but the combat that raged between Elazar and Aarakturious now held their gaze.
In Aarakturious Tzeentch saw the changes that would be wrought upon the world by his armies and he spied all the paths of fate leading to and from this moment plotting their course. Slaanesh bathed in the ancient pride of the Shaggoth and could already sense the great torrents of fear that would drown his foes. Nurgle sensed the despair in mortal hearts at the Storm God’s reawakening and knew that in their wake his armies would leave fields of carrion to be tended by flocks of crows and swarms of flies, each host to plagues and diseases beyond counting. Khorne could feel the endless rage of the storm, the infinite hatred of the dread Shaggoth and knew that towers of skulls would be heaped at the foot of his great brass throne in offering.
In that moment Aarakturious carried the blessing of each of the Ruinous Powers and Elazar felt only the scorn of his own beloved patron. With a ferocious strike Aarakturious destroyed the Daemon Prince’s physical form banishing him back to the realm of chaos. The storm overhead swelled with power as the chaos gods fed its power to herald the awakening of their new champion.
The Devotees of Elazar had borne witness as events unfolded before them, helpless to intercede as their beloved leader was destroyed. With a roar Aarakturious summoned his own followers to war and those tribes that had journeyed to witness the awakening of the Storm God descended upon the Devotees. But, for all the ferocity of the Astragar, Kavakh and Mulghar men it was the egos of the champions of the Devotees of Elazar that spelled their doom. Each keen to ascend in Elazar’s place they killed their own just as readily as the Storm God’s followers sought to slay them. Some such as Harkaitz made their stand and were cut down by the tide of tribesmen whilst others like Endika Fleshtearer fled to escape their doom.
Amidst the chaos Rumpolt Staudinger had thought he’d made good his escape until he glanced back and spotted the half-dozen riders dogging his steps. In an instant the fight was gone from him, he felt the years of his extraordinarily long life catching up with him all at once. Resigned to his fate he hobbled over to a rocky outcrop and sat himself down.
The riders sensed an end to their sport so quickly covered the ground between themselves and the old man. All six of them were Mulghar men. They were each frightful in their own way bearing slight mutations that marked them as servants of the dark gods but it was the man that rode at their head that scared Rumpolt. He wore a helm and armour on is right arm that seemed alive with the electricity of the storm that still raged overhead. Arcs of lightning played over its surface with an audible crackle but the man himself seemed not only unharmed but unfazed by them. On his chest a brand of a lightning bolt had been burnt into the skin, marking him as a servant of the ascendant Storm God. The man leapt down from his mount, a beast clearly touched by the warping energies of chaos, and then hoisted Rumpolt to his feet. He said something in his own tongue that Rumpolt didn’t understand and within seconds the other five men had leapt down from their steeds and began to bind spears together with twine. The man stood watching Rumpolt as the men in his thrall set busily to whatever task he had set them. His face was hidden behind his helm which he’d topped with the skull of some beast. Even without being able to see the man’s face though Rumpolt could feel the barely contained rage which seemed to charge the air around him, the fury of the storm above them seemed to echo in the heart of that man and Rumpolt felt only dread as he regarded him.
When the Mulghars had finished they had bound together dozens of spears in the image of the eight pointed star of chaos. Another shout from their leader saw the men grab Rumpolt and drag him struggling to the chaos star and bind him to it. Rumpolt alternated between howling in fear and pleading with the but if they understood his words the made no outward show of it. With two thick ropes they raised the start upright and into a hole they’d dug into the ground to plant it.
“The storm will decide your fate,” the armoured man said his voice iron as it sounded from behind his helm.
As the men mounted their horses and continued southwards riding ahead of the storm their leader glanced back over his shoulder and watched the lightning raking the ground around the chaos start they’d erected and then saw it catch light as another bolt struck it and it burst into flames, a fiery sigil of chaos against the black clouds that stretched back on the horizon. He thought he heard the old man’s agonised screams for a moment but the thunder drowned out the sound like cruel rumbling laughter.
This is going to be an Undivided Chaos force. The followers of the Storm God worship the four ruinous powers as well as the Storm God as the gods' chosen champion.
I was inspired by The Temple of Skulls shown in White Dwarf 381. My wargames club has just bought one so I painted it similarly so that there's now some themed terrain where I play all my games! Just need to build and paint the army now!