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(There you go!)

The creature roars in pain and fury, its being starting to unravel and fade. It falls down to the ground, its plaguebearer forces toppling over, all life leaving them. Slowly, the portal begins to open again, wisps of the titanic thing's being flying into its oily dephs.

Syrath roars in triumph and bursts into green flames, the daemon laughing and cackling. Pointing his Glaive into the air a small storm of fire explodes into life and scorches the ground;

"Return to war legions of Chaos, burn this mortal plain to the ground!"

Tyranic had hit the lines of chaos warriors with a silent swipe of his sword that hacked a swath through the enemy troops. His champions were around him hacking thier way into the press and behind that his legions were plowing in. THe opposing forces were weak and undisciplined and Tyranic and his champions had no trouble defeating scores of the fools. The sorceror at the back however was a different story, and as the great ble beast fell to a bolt of sorcery from the great daemon of Tzeentch, Syrath, Tyranic plowed hrough the press to engage the sorceror in combat, his sorcerous blade trailing icy tendrils and his helm a horrific visage. The sorceror casts a bolt of lighting which is absorbed by Tyranic's armour. And the great warrior closes in for a fight.

(Just setting the scene. Just Tyranic and the Hydra, to make things transparent. The blade has killing blow and Tyranic armour resists sorcery. Tyranic isnt immune to the stuff butyou cant kill him outright either, he also is undead.)

"Why are you doing this?" Shouts the Hydra above the sounds of battle. "Our goal is to defeat the enemies of the chaos Gods, not each other. We will fight this fight, but not today. Not while the unbelievers live within those walls." The Hydra shouts, pointing towards the city walls and the conflict around it.

Tyranic yells back over the sounds of sorcerous winds
"You have been openly against us working together fgrom the start, and now you summon a beast that would necrify the resources I seek to continue my campaign, not to mention my men. YOu summoned this beast in the middle of our camp and already many of my men have fallen to its necrolisis. Your descision was il timed, or at least ill placed Sorceror."

"The beast killed your men because YOUR MEN attacked it! Its purpose was to kill the enemy, not you. Its purpose was to reach the walls, killing all living enemies inside, and then dissapate, its purpose complete. The creatures that spring up around it are only temporary, look how at the creature's death they are merely corpses yet again. I did not speak of this to any of you, as I feared you would suspect trechery and interrupt the ritual." The Hydra replies.

"Is it not ironic then that because you did not speak treachery was created? Save your sorcery for somewhere away from my camp. THe moment that beast hit the planes my men began to die. I could feel it in the winds of magic. You cannot deny the purpose of your beast to kill through disease, and this is what it started to do the moment it was near the camp."

"Yes, it was created to kill through disease. Kill the ENEMY through disease. The only things initially effected by its necrosis and reanimation effects were the enemy dead and dying. Your men were only effected as they tried to bring it harm. As you say though, I WILL perform my sorcery elsewhere, though, and will warn you of the actions I will perform."

"The winds of sorcery are not discriminate in thier destruction. One and all fall before the blight. But I am glad to hear of these words. My forces withdraw."

And so it was, Tyranic's forces had already withdrawn back to the camp.

"My forces shall also withdraw. I am simply glad neither of us had to lose our lives over this matter." The Hydra says, walking away, as his forces move back to their camp.

Syrath smilled, such distrust was a weapon, foolish unguided Sorcerers however threatened his plans. His hunched head turned to Reaper, who tore his sword front the cheast of a Chaos Warrior and howled into the air;

"Bloodreaper, pull back. I believe our dear friend Tyranic is in need of some 'councilling' per say."

The Herald re mounted his Juggernaut and rode of while Syrath turned to the retreating Chaos Champion with glee;

"Tyranic, I must discuss something with you."

Tyranic saw the beast coming and turned to meet it
"What would that be Syrath?"

"---See that it is done. ---. I very much hope you can, but go now, do not linger here." The Hydra finishes to a dark and hooded figure outside his tent. A second later, the mysterious figure is gone, a black shadow in an equally dark night. The Hydra chuckles quietly in the confines of his camp.

Orcish spies knew about the encounter, as while the lords duked it out the orc spider did what it needed to do done. The orcs would now be gathering strength due to knowledge of their grand machine and armies of pike and crossbow wielding orcs, trolls and other beasts. Nuln would fall or the warlord, and his allies would die trying! Orcish drums now sounded signaling their would be allies to move out.

"Our 'ally' and his nature is highly unstable, I believe if you are to appease mighty lord Tzeentch, we should 'remove' him once we have entered the city's catacombs and retrieved the artifact. I fear he may have known of existence before this alliance had been formed, though his ability to jump to the conclusions means that we will have to force him into an ambush or into a state of vulnerability. The Orcs could be useful, being that their nature is a wild one and with their leadership fractured they could spill into civil war, and we can take the spoils of war for ourselves."

"No ally has expended thier usefulness until they are dead, I propose that we simply align things for his army to attack the main fortress and keep once we have breached the walls and then allow the enemy to flank his position, the two will fight it out and then we can mop up the remainder."

"Agreed, I'll pull my forces back and wait for those baffons to open up a hole in the main wall, I've had Bloodreaper return to the Realm of Chaos in search of new riders, though my other troops have had a slight change of heart and have also retreated, though I do have a plan."

Syrath pulled forth a shard of Warp stone.

"----Good, good. This is...interesting, to say the least. Go, continue your duties." The Hydra yet again says to the hooded figure, who has returned to the Hydra's camp. With a quiet chuckle, the Hydra turns away to disguss matters with his elite.

Tyranic looks at the warp stone and shrugs
"What exactly are you going to do with that?"

"This."

Syrath plunges the shard into his cheast, green veins appearing across the bones of the being, green fire explodes into life and set his wings alight. Syrath's fiery eyes turn green and the earth beneath him cracks and shatters.

"I required more power to properly sustain myself."

Tyranic looks at the now green tinged daemon
"And how exactly does this help us?"

"More martial power, and sorcery, but for now manipulation is the key. When do you think we should have our cat paws attack again? I highly doubt the Empire has not prepared a counter attack on the Orcs war machine."

The orcs cared not what their allies did now, only that everyone would get to the meeting site in one piece. The warlord had his gear and was aboard the spider to command the orcish hordes.

Korban grunted and snarled as his balde twisted in the gut of a gurgling servat of Nurgle, the Khornate champion wrenched his weapon free and backhanded the slimy human onto the ground before sashing his sword neatly through the neck of anouther cultist. Korban's entire body was alight with passion and fire. HIs sinewy arms a blur of motion that was impossible to follow even in his heavy plate armour. And more than that it seemed that he had a sixth sense for the location of enemies in relation to his person. He could kill an enemy behind him with surgical prescision and have the fool's vial fluids spurt over his armour and not even seem to realise the change. And then he felt it, the implacable tug of the warleader's will. It was indomitable, and all powerful. No one could resist that will. He waved his sword above his head and his toops began to withdraw, he noticed the other forces around him doing the same. The cultists of nugle were too slow to pursue even more heavily armoured brethren of thier god. It was no use, the marauders came through and cleared a path for the hosts to retreat and that was it.

Even though the battle had ended the blood of Korban's slain foes was still running hot over his armour and blade, a useful quirk of his weapon was that no blood that touched it would stop flowing until it touched the ground. It kept it clean and sharp. He looked up to see his warleader on the bluff with the daemon at his side, the two of them talking in heavy voices that carried with overtones of power, but no discernable words, around him the forces of the army began to construct weapons of war and Korban was forced to take his eyes away from the scene of the massive heavily armoured warleader, who even in his thick, meteor plate armour was uneeringly graceful and cold.

- - -

The Marta's armour is made of a heavy metal that was mined from the core of a meteor that had fallen to the ground in the wastes at the roof of the world, then blessed by Slaanesh itself the armour was melded to Tyranic's very bones, then it had begun to wither his skin, mummifying him in the same way that a corpse is preserved in the ice of a glacier. His eyes took a deathly red hue and eventually the ice mists that have become the wandering champion's hallmark began to coalase around his armour and face. Eventually the warleader became not unlike a shrunken skinned corpse, with heavy metal armour melded to his very bones. This had the twofold result of making him almost immune to Nurgle's embrace, allowing him to sacrifice himself to the god without ever dying. Frostbite is among Nurgle's concoctions and the plaguefather takes relish in the devastation that the blade Tyranic carries can create. The second effect of this was that Because Tranic's armour was a part of him he was granted a supernatural set of senses to accompany the armour, that allow him to feel air currents and pressure fields, mundane and magical. It allows him to sense the presence and power of those around him, physical strength, magical power, even level of exhaustion. It is said that the warleader is omnisient of his surroundings because he can percieve faint breaths of air that not even a wolf could hear. And it is this attribute that makes the warleader such a great strategist. Tyranic looked at the city with his ancient shrunken eyes and looked at the walls and the walls only, the orcs had withdrawn from them and the las fires were being quenched, the high elves and empire soldiers had retreated to the keep and were allowing the militia to man the battlements. Tyranic assessed this and made a single statement,
"Tonight, before the fires are quenched, we shall move on the city."

After a decade since he rose from his Tomb and crossing the mighty desert, Swala made it to the land of the empire a lush, green and large land but this part seemed different there was smoke blood and bodies. Looking around Swala held his ancient hand ordering his warriors to halt as he looked around, the army of bone, metal and jewels covered the mighty field. Suddenly a group of orcs charged from the right side and from the left charged chaos warriors. Swala's yell was nothing more then a screech of dust and death, his warriors formed up their shields locking together and the Ushabti aimed their bows at the orcs and fired at them impaling them to the ground. As the enemy drew closer the Tomb Guard gathered around their king ready to defend him but the chaos warriors suddenly stopped and retreated back Swala looked and saw no more and signalled his warriors to move on.

Korban was halfway through a check of the camps preprations when he saw the warriors of bone moving slowly over the plains. His warcry leapt from his lips and his sword rang free of its sheath as he heard a great cry rise up around him. The orks had already charged and his warriors were forming up for the charge. THe orks would hit first but that did not matter, when his warriors reached the bone lines they would eat them up like the great brass juggernaughts of his patron. Korban willed his soul into its battle state and felt his bloodbegin to heat up, his blade was thrust skywards and his legion surhged forwards. All around him warriors began moving and he followed in thier midst. HIs unearthly cry ringing forth. Korban could feel the blood rage inside him and he charged headlong forward, his heavy armoured boots creting furrows in the ground as he barrelled forward. He was almost within a hundred yards when the implacable will of his warleader forced him to halt. He saw why, Massive tomb guardians were stalking amongst the warriors, great bows clthed in thir hands that were raising to volley the ocrs into oblivion. Korban uttered a short gutteral order in his native tongue nd then a louder one. He and his troops retreated out of bowshot and allowed the orcs to tie up the newcomers, This would require the warleader.

---

Tyranic had seen the charge and had exercised his full will on Korban, his Khornate champion making a headlong rush twoards the feeble boen warriors. he brought Korban out of his lust and forcing him to see the danger. He saw his forces retreating and strode towards the lines of bone warriors, his cloak flapping oinously behind hima nd a trail of frost dead grass in his wake. Tyranic draws his own sword free and raises it in the air. His marauders form up in wedges behind him and then charge forwards, behind them are the chaos chosen. The full might of all of the Four and their legions. His own bodyguard formed a v behind him and as the marauders struck Tyranic tilted into a full sprint. He needed no reason to fight the bone warriors, for they would fight him just as readily. He heard the voice of the hunchbacked soreror in his army call out a name in a strange foriegn tongue and then infront of him was the biggest tomb pharoh he had ever seen. He slammed to a halt and raised his blade.

The Hydra was survaying the scene of cinflict when he saw the aproaching force. Row after row of marching undead, some armed with bows, some not, and lead by an unusualy large pharoh. With a chukle, the Hydra walks closer, unsheathing his daemonic sword, the captive daemon within screaching louder as the army gets closer. The Hydra's elite close in behind him, each armed with a twisted weapon of the warp, their armour covered in fell runes which could burn he eyes of mortals. Moving into a sprint, his followers doing the same, the Hydra quickly moves closer. The Hydra suddenly stops, hearing the foreign tougue of the undead horde's sorceror.

Upon hearing this, the Hydra shouts out in the same, strange language towards the undead sorceror, something around the lines of "What buisness do you have here this day, tomb kings? There is a great conflict in motion, so either help us, leave this place, or die at our hands."

The might pharoh laugh as the chaos lord said they would slay his forces. The chaos lord glared at the mighty pharoh in anger, but instead of attacking him the pharoh extended his hand to the lord this is a rare event for a Tomb King to ally with any other force, but will the slaves of chaos accept.

Walking trough the burned remnants of the fishermans village just 3 miles away from the city, Ulric stabbed his sword into one of the last survivors. Looking around him, he spotted his man doing the same. It was good to be back in the weakling nation of the 'Empire'. Home sweet home, he thought, as he threw a torch into a buidling with the people still in it.

the orcs were no where to be seen, they were in hiding- witch was very suprising knowing how large the orc armies and their spider was