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Sarrick stands high in Goromadny Pass. Before him, the land slopes down, gradually turning from rugged mountains to the steppes and forests of Kislev. A hardy people that might be equal to his own if only they didn't worship such weak gods. The Baersonlings had submitted, and between tribute and plunder he had gained much. He chuckled under his breath at a memory of the foolish minotaur Krantagarh, raging as he was forced to give away his treasures. His mirth faded, and he looked down seriously again. It was still not enough. He needed more to fulfil his ambitions, and he saw the potential in the distant Kislevite settlements below him.
The Wheatlands were under attack by the greater part of their host. No doubt word had spread by swift riders by now. The Baersonlings were separate though, isolated. No word would have come from the north. All eyes in Kislev would be facing East, at least for a time. An opportunity. Fort Ostrosk was probably still too far with his forces alone, but tribute and slaves would be vulnerable for the taking. He had certain rituals in mind, and a quick raid should give him enough.
His smile returned and as if in sympathy and winds of Chamon rose around him for a moment causing the snow beneath his feet to hiss. He turned back to the north, to his gathered warriors, still intact despite the slaughter they had brought to Baersonling lands. He pointed south, his order simple.
“Forwards.”
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I rather fancy myself some warbeasts (which will be fluffed as captives being magically mutated into chaos spawn). At the moment I'm on 30 loot, so as my men are still good, we'll press on with a quick raid into Kislev to try and top up. Hopefully they won't be expecting us.
So intact CW to the west, the damaged chaos warriors and savages advance south as a group.
