The Lost Primarch Quest

Malcador the Sigilite. The Lord of Assassins. The Master of the Imperial Bureaucracy. The (Former?) Best Friend of the Emperor of Mankind...was not happy. The two primarchs, twins in more than just looks, could tell this even without their long history with the man. He was too quiet, too still, merely looking at the array of data reports, holo recordings, even a now infamous Remembrancer painting of a particular star system. The 'frail' old man that could annihilate entire star systems with a gesture...was perturbed.

One of the twins, in a forlorn attempt to stop the inevitable, opened his mouth to speak only to have Malcador raise a single finger and with a patently false smile looked at them both. He took a deep breath, "So let me get this straight...During your unholy shadow war against the Daemon being Changling, you set up a trap on Aleph, only for it to realize almost immediately. Then you detonate a bomb of 70 trillion micro explosives to prevent it from getting away, which it does because it is a Favored of an Archdaemon and thus not as prone to dying by explosions." Both of the twins winced at the memory of how close they'd been to getting the Changling with their explosion, only for Tzeentch to cheat it free they were sure of. Malcador's 'smile' only got wider as he continued to recount the events that had been conveyed to him

"Then he stumbled out of your fortress in a spot that you deemed, and I quote: 'A perfect spot for him to be put down in.' only for two daemons of Exalted level to just randomly and meet each other on a whim who proceeded to and again, I quote: 'fight each other viciously' and 'seemed like they wanted to join in the general frakas'." Both twins shuddered at the recollection of the beings that had intruded on their attempt to deal with the Changling. the chained one had been a clear attempt by Tzeentch to save its favored servant, but Khorne interfering to that extent had been a horrific boone that nobody had wanted but couldn't deny had been effective. He pulled out a holo-projector that displayed someone that filled them both with regret and fury "And then you tell me the Chaos brawl, with two warp rifts caused enough activity that NEX stirred, and after that Lorgar appeared because he had common cause with these soulless beings in this battle and wished to join them."

Alpharius and Omegon shook their heads sadly at the way their Lost brother had tried to join in the battle only to be literally mind controlled by the Changling to leave the fray. To see him brought so low as to be sent scurrying like a serf had been hard to see even during the battle and had not gotten any easier to contemplate since. Omegon tried to speak only for Malcador to jab a finger at him, "Finally! You were fortunate enough to have the Night Lords themselves come to your rescue without any form of prior notice." At this point Malcador stood up from his desk and took another deep breath.

"And, shortly after your victory, Konrad Cruze, in all his blood splattered glory, proceeded to join the rest of you and out of all the things he could have chosen to do, Once More I Quote:" Malcador actually slammed his fists on the desk in a psyker powered explosion of force that was nevertheless contained to merely buffeting them with dust and paperwork, on his face an expression rictus of fury and relief mixed, " Killed Lorgar"

The Twins waited as Malcador caught his breathe and used his abilities to set everything to right again, and once their unofficial uncle was finally settled Alpharius said "Yeeesss, pretty much." With Omegon chiming in right after.

"I know I know Uncle Mal-" Malcador gave them a very unamused look a the nickname, "When you put it like that it does sound..."

"Extremely insane?" The Sigilite 'helpfully supplied, "Yes, are you sure this wasn't a century long Slaanesh induced delusion?"

The Twins knew he wasn't serious about the question, too much evidence, including the planet that had been literally cracked into three pieces during the battle, but they could tell Malcador was blowing off steam. That being said, "Do you have anything to add to this lot? Malcador said with a gesture to the piles of evidence.

Both looked at each other and said in unison, "You just had to be there."




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WOOO! Finally got this done, kept losing and redoing it but finally i got it tweaked to my liking.


A fun HOmage to the unexpectedly completed Behemoth side series of TTS that i had to do an Omake of after a discord conversation with @Daemon Hunter whom I hope liked.

GM Note: Once more, special thanks to @TinyGladiator for writing the following snippet.

He knew that it would have been so easy. His thoughts swirled between different plans, what weapons to shoot through the portal. Missiles, bombs, volleys of fire, ways to ensure that the rift closed immediately to ensure no retaliation or potential incursion.

And yet he could not dismiss one idea that a part of him desperately wished to, an idea that he knew could very easily bring about what he wanted to never happen again.

The potential, the knowledge this battle could grant even if it was fought only briefly. To fight in the Warp itself, or an environment close enough to it at least, on a fortified world? One populated by beings that used the powers of the Warp in such twisted ways? As a hypothetical, it seemed perfect to truly prepare for the coming war, and for all that they had managed against the Ruinous Powers the Eternal Wardens did not have experience in battling in the Warp.

But in the actual... it made Oriacarius hesitate.

He was no fool, he considered all the dangers and the hazards that could occur. His mind raced as each moment he hesitated could make the battle all the more deadly, he focused on every potentiality and calculated exactly what he would need.

As he focused on making more plans, as the idea of invading into the last world of the Mitu wormed its way through his mind, he slowly began to look down and saw the many names that were carved into his armor.

Would it be worth it? Would it be worth thousands, tens of thousands of his brothers losing their lives for a war they had already won? Was it worth it to have some potentially get lost in the fight, consumed by the Warp as this constructed realm broke?

Oriacarius, his mind working as hard as and his heart grew heavy with the weight of his decision, considered what was about to be faced by the whole of the Eternal Wardens and all else of the Imperium that would fight with them.

Yes. It was.

There was an opportunity here, one he couldn't afford to let go of. It would be like Gehenna once more. A trial by fire for his brothers and him. The rewards would be great, but so too would the costs. Does he ask his brothers to dive into the Maelstrom having never fought within the warp before? Could he face them and say that they may have known what the warp was like had it not been for his decision? No. He could not.

His decision made, the First Captain's mind turned to what lay ahead. Immediately within the warp rift lay a Great Barrier, a killing zone meant to funnel attackers into certain death. But what was it that lay within?

Ideas came to Oriacarius, several of which he already had plans for. Perhaps they could selectively alter reality, perhaps there was some form of a curse that instantly killed those that crossed the barrier, perhaps the Reef would be thrown into the domain of an Archdaemon if they stepped forth. Then there were more mundane ideas. Landmines, artillery, enemy titans, unending regenerating hordes of infantry, Ordinati, choirs of psykers, all of these possibilities came to mind to Oriacarius.

Previously made contingencies were brought to the forefront of his mind, as he idly pulled out his custom dataslate, specially modified for increased storage space. Flicking through the various plans already on it, the Astartes began to modify them for the current situation. The presence of psykers was accounted for, as was the possibly malleable nature of reality. The anatomy of the Mitu was factored in, and the few engineering weak points that were present in their ships were translated to possible weak points in their ground bases.

If he hadn't written these plans over the course of the previous two decades, he never would have been even considered taking the Reef. With them, he was only mildly worried that he had missed some sort of countermeasure.

While he refined the battle plan, the First Captain ordered the Legion to perform a variety of actions. The standard search for corrupted Astartes after an encounter with daemons was ordered and a series of patrols initiated around the warp rift. While the Iron Warriors present continued to construct fortifications that would make up a forward operating base, the Storm Seers were ordered to study the warp rift from a distance and to see what they could glean from it. Countersniper teams were formed and the Titans were inspected for damage.

The preparations took over a week, and even then Oriacarius was not satisfied. However, with the information given by the Storm Seers, he had a limited window of time, and the longer he waited, the longer the enemy had to prepare. Then he uttered the words that heralded the battles to come.

"Wardens, into the breach. Cross the Great Barrier and take the Reef. For the Imperium and Primarch."

A roar was his answer. A roar from thousands of Astartes all of whom trusted him to lead them to glory and greatness. "FOR THE IMPERIUM AND PRIMARCH!"

Unlike most Astartes, Oriacarius made sure that the first wave to enter the warp rift was entirely expendable. Servitors charged forward and were utterly destroyed as they stepped across horrific biological landmines. Globs of organic viscera leaped from the ground, camouflage in the bone to an extent that even Astartes eyes missed them. These pustules detonated not into acid or bone, but into exotic energy, one that twisted the servitors into festering piles of mutated flesh and broken cybernetics. Yet, the servitors were expendable, and after multiple rockets were launched at their bodies by the Wardens, in case some other surprise was waiting, the Grasp of Fire stepped through the warp rift.

The God-Machine's gargantuan frame barely fit, and required the Storm Seers to nudge the rift slightly wider. Behind it, the Wardens cautiously advanced, clustered behind Land Raiders and armored transports. And at their head were the venerated Dreadnaughts. Armored instruments of death that hungered for battle.

The macrocannons that fired upon the Wardens were met by the Grasp of Fire's void shields, the Imperator Titan easily able to shrug off enough firepower to devastate the Imperial lines. Directed energy weapons were fired in droves from the Reef, lancing across the wide-open terrain, striking the adamantium plates of Dreadnaughts rather than the less armored Astartes power armor. The damage was merely cosmetic rather than crippling, and the Wardens forced their way forwards.

Carefully replacing the Dreadnaughts with Warhounds, and the rotating the Grasp of Fire and Sorcerer's Bane, Oriacarius ensured that void shields covered the Wardens, while adamantium armor provided cover in the wide-open terrain. As the bridge of bone was traversed, the First Captain was careful to keep an eye out for ambushes. The Runes of Detection were unsurprisingly activated, the battle within the warp drawing daemons in by the billions.

To look underneath the bridge of bone was to stare madness in the eyes. It was to see the edge of where reality and unreality met and collided, an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of insanity-inducing color. Guardsmen had gone insane from merely a glance, and even with the far more guarded minds of the Wardens, gazing done at that caused the eyes to water. If one peered further, focusing the eyes in a manner that seemed impossible, one could see past the border, and into the warp itself.

Here be monsters. An ancient Terran saying that Oriacarius found perfectly encapsulated the situation. He could see armies of daemons below. From the perfect forms of daemonettes, to the pink and blue horrors of the planner. But the one most in abundance were the joyful faces of Nurglings, spreading their filth wherever they could. Whatever sorcery held the bubble in place kept them at bay, but they were straining against it in anticipation. Seeking entrance to the souls within.

Looking around, it was clear that this was not the reality that humans were used to. The towers of bone and flesh while strange had been seen by Oriacarius before. What hadn't been seen was the sheer speed at which infrastructure damage repaired. Before his very eyes, a tower damaged by the Grasp of Fire began to knit itself back together. An act which drove the Nurglings below into fits of joy. But it wasn't enough for the Mitu.

The Wardens were unstoppable at this time. The First Captain dispensed orders constantly, barely stopping to take a breath. Most of his orders resulted in nothing, as they were simply unneeded. His countermeasures for being flanked were never used, nor were his plans to deal with teleporters. However, his plans to deal with snipers were, as several Astartes Captains narrowly escaped with their lives thanks to his planning. As were his reserve of anti-aircraft guns which shot down ten of the Mitu equivalent of deathstrikes. At any other time, losses would have been far higher, but right at this moment, Oriacarius exemplified the pinnacle of contingency planning.

By the time the Mitu created and implemented a new strategy, the First Captain already had a countermeasure in place along with two others in case the first failed. For all the xenos had prepared, Oriacarius had simply prepared more, and his planning allowed him to march ever forward.

The Great Barrier was crossed by the Astartes, and the War for the Reef began in earnest.

A Legion charged the walls of the Reef, where they were met by defenses once considered impossible. Twitching towers of bone spat biolightning at Astartes, charring them within their armor as Titans dueled heavier cannons that fired spikes of bone. The Grasp of Fire's weapons erupted into an ocean of lead, bathing the landscape in tracers and death. Oriacarius himself continued to issue out orders one after another, preparing for nonexistent ambushes and traps. The Reef beckoned, the soon to be tomb daring the Wardens to take it and claim it. Astartes charged, and Astartes died. But they did not do so futilely.

Damage mounted upon the Mitu towers. The larger ones healed, drawing upon the energies of the immaterium to knit their flesh back together in impossible ways while the smaller ones simply rotted away and died.

It was here that the Wardens found their largest obstacle, as the euclidian geometry of the Imperium was no longer constant. Machine spirits aboard titans grew in irritation as their sensors made no sense. Some snipers within the Legion found their shots missing by margins that seemed to change by the second. The Mitu suffered the same errors, but far less so. Unlike the Wardens, they had known what to expect, and so it was in this one realm that their preparations exceeded those of Oriacarius.

The walls of the Reef beckoned, and then they were within reach as an Astartes leaped upon them, their volkite tearing through Xenos creatures until an artillery cannon tore a hole through their chest. Two more shots rang out, and they fell forwards into the horde of Xenos creatures that had been deployed.

A mad scramble ensued, as the Mitu Conglomerate fought to keep the Wardens from taking the walls. Psychic screams echoed within the Reef, as for all the power and nightmarish wonders of the Mitu, it was still barely enough to stem the bleeding. Rage and fear were common among the Xenos, as their flesh-molded world fought to stay afloat within the Sea of Souls. The towers of bone that constantly discharged energy were reaching their limit. The number of explosions and intensity of the conflict slowly raising power requirements even as more and more power was diverted to the weapons.

Roars of determination echoed from a hundred Astartes as they fought to bring themselves over one more hurdle. Screams of hate spewed from a thousand Xeno mouths and multiple chaplains began to chant, driving the Wardens forward with every word. Neither side was willing to yield a single inch, as both fought over the walls which were not even ten meters thick.

For those ten meters, five thousand Astartes died along with fifty million Xenos. A brutal battle that bathed the walls in blood. The Wardens would never break while the Mitu could not. Then something gave, but it wasn't either of the two.

Weapons fire slackened on the Mitu side, and for a moment, the Wardens were confused, wondering if their enemies had begun to run dry on ammunition.

GM Note: Once again, special thanks to @TinyGladiator for an amazing snippet.

Then they heard them, first as a few quiet whispers. Then it rapidly began to pick up, louder and louder. There were cries, roars, and laughter all echoing, overlapping over one another. Countless hungry mouths stretched over the barrier, teeth trying to bite through.

And then the great chant continued, sparked first from the closest Nurglings and rapidly spreading to all others that hungered for what was inside.

"Let us in. Let us in. Let us in! Let us in! LET US IN! LET US IN! LET US IN!"

The words were screamed and became a battering ram, a great maw starting to swallow the dark realm to let the bright madness of Chaos billow in.

The scent of blood, so strong as to be overpowering, poured into the Reef. A single being of power took a step closer, the twin brass axes of the Favored Bloodthirster promising death to any that challenged them. Behind them, four more Bloodthirsters stood, each eager for the slaughter that was coming.

The tide of Nurglings was broken, and the scent of rot was displaced with yet more blood. A deep bone-chilling pain grew in the souls of the Mitu at the very presence of the daemons of Khorne. The roaming warband, once headed towards the site of the Blood and Thunder War had a target, and it would peel the skulls of everyone present.

Roaring, the chant was taken over by the Bloodletters whose axes sparked against the barrier.

"LET US IN!"

The towers of bone, after having spent so long trying to hold the bubble of reality in place began to weaken. The Immaterium began to spill into the Reef, as the screams of the Mitu were echoed by daemonic laughter. The chanting of the daemons grew louder and louder as the excitement grew among the four hordes. "Let us in!" They cried, desperately seeking the flesh of Astartes and creations of the Mitu. "Let us in!" They cried as the bubble of reality prevented their voices from being heard. "Let us in!" They cried as more and more daemons began to arrive, attracted by the prospect of new souls to claim.

Oriacarius turned towards the Storm Seers and roared an order, "DO NOT LET THIS BUBBLE COLLAPSE WHILE WE'RE IN IT!" Turning towards the nearest messenger, the First Captain changed his battle plan to the beginnings of an uncommitted withdrawal in case it was necessary. "All forces, prepare to conduct a fighting retreat. Do not commit to one. I repeat, begin a fighting retreat, but do not commit."

The Titans stepped back, their guns continuing to fire as Astartes began to slowly withdraw. Their guns firing all the while. The only exception was the Storm Seers, who chanted the complex words of a ritual meant to stabilize the realm.

It was akin to stemming an ocean from consuming a pebble. An unending stream of wrongness intruding upon reality. Demented roars echoed in their minds, as the Bloodthirsters present turned their gaze upon them, weakening their concentration and unsettling their minds. The Reef continued to destabilize, as the chanting of daemons grew in volume, and cracks began to appear across the barrier. The leering visage of daemons became visible as Astartes barely held back from firing at the barrier. Their instincts screaming at them to either attack or withdraw to a safer point. Then, the Storm Seers achieved their breakthrough.

Stringing together a safety net formed by sheer skill and experience, the Astartes forced the immaterium back. The faces of daemons faded, and the chanting went from an incessant roar to a dull echo. With the Reef barely stabilized, Oriacarius ordered the Wardens to

[] Withdraw and destabilize the Reef fully. Conduct a slow withdrawal under the firing lines of the Titans before having the White Scars destabilize the Reef not that they have an idea of how it works. Let the Mitu perish within the warp. Valuable experience has been gained and staying further is tempting fate. *Gain a 10% reduction to warp terrain penalties.*
[] Push forward and wipe them out. The Reef may not truly be stable, but there is still more to learn. It is a risk, one that makes Oriacarius hesitate. It is a risk that will kill thousands of Astartes now. But is there a chance that it may save more in the future? He does not know the answer. But perhaps another risk must be taken. *Increase experience with warp terrain. Possibility of increasing reduction. Possibility of large losses. Possibility the Reef destabilizes while you are in it. Possibility of facing five Bloodthirsters.*
[] Write-in

Hiya! Decided to make an omake on what's currently going on with the whole War for the Reef, specifically focusing on that Favoured Bloodthirster that showed up. As, wow, they must feel like an insanely lucky fellow for them to stumble upon this. What are the odds, eh? Anyways, uh, hope it's not too bad and that its enjoyable! 0u0

Oh, also, I should probably go and vote. Hope I haven't messed this up due to putting it here with the omake. My deepest apologies if it has messed something up with the vote.

[X] Push forward and wipe them out. The Reef may not truly be stable, but there is still more to learn. It is a risk, one that makes Oriacarius hesitate. It is a risk that will kill thousands of Astartes now. But is there a chance that it may save more in the future? He does not know the answer. But perhaps another risk must be taken. *Increase experience with warp terrain. Possibility of increasing reduction. Possibility of large losses. Possibility the Reef destabilizes while you are in it. Possibility of facing five Bloodthirsters.*

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A Hunter Must Hunt.

Kho'Astrom the Eternal Hunter, Favoured Bloodthirster of Khorne who embodied their grant wrath, brought down their axes against the dark barrier once more.

Since the moment of his existence the daemon was dedicated completely to hunting down worthy prey. To slaughter armies or to break worlds was something that Kho'Astrom had enjoyed immensely, to go through a great battlefield and kill as many as possible until there were lakes of blood was what all those of Khorne would find wonderful.

But nothing matched a singular duel or execution. A time where there was nothing else but the enemy and the fight, where each strike taken and given held the greatest and most personal meaning. Where rage was focused and wrath honed upon the foe, a fire struck the fiercest as it cut through everything else. To take a life as all strength and power was poured into their demise. There was nothing greater.

The greatest champions, the mightiest beasts, the strongest fighters. It mattered not what or where they were, any that were found by the Bloodthirster would become a target and they would never stop until they were killed. Millenia could pass and their concentrated fury and dedication would never falter, only momentarily be delayed if another target was closer.

Once a mere mortal, a champion covered in armour, fought the daemon as it came to their world. They wielded a sword with enough skill, strength and willpower to pierce through the daemon's heart and take their head and did not fall to the worship of Khorne. Their material remains burnt as they were sent back to the Warp.

Then, just before they were able to manifest into the mortal plane again, when Kho'Astrom had learned that the mortal had died by the hands of another Bloodthirster, who ate the champion's soul and took their skull, he roared with pure rage and hunted down the one who dared to forever steal the chance to fight and kill what was their prize alone.

Then for a hundred more times did the Bloodthirster battle their fellow Greater Daemon, each time after they finished another hunt and came back to the Brass Citadel to enact their vengeance. The hundredth time was when Kho'Astrom had discarded their other weapon to take the axe away from the beaten Bloodthirster and chopped their head off with it, finally satisfied as they kept the axe as their own.

For this act they became Favoured by the Blood God and given four other Bloodthirsters to lead, and as the forces under Kho'Astrom grew along with their power so too did their targets. Powerful sorcerers that served to one of the other four gods, wandering beasts in the Warp, other mortal champions and mighty daemons that Kho'Astrom knew of. All became prey in the eyes of the hunter.

His chases were relentless and brutal. Flesh Hounds to sniff out prey and find them wherever they went, packs of them circling around those who dared to use sorcery to cut off escape. Fortifications crushed under the stampede of Juggernauts as their riders sliced at all in their path while Blood Thrones charged ahead and dove straight into the middle of the battle. And above them all were the Bloodthirsters as they flew straight for their kills, Kho'Astrom at the front, the rest of the daemons following them as guides to more wars.

There was little strategy that was directed to the warband, they just kept to their roles and utlised their might to hunt and slaughter.

There was but one rule, one order that was to be followed at all times, and all the daemons under Kho'Astrom knew it. Never fight what he fought, never kill what he tried to kill, or else they would suffer as many deaths as the Eternal Hunter could grant as their focused wrath was directly completely to them. The grudges the daemon kept could be as endless as their desire for the hunt, and many things the warband fought had done just that as they slayed a target before the Bloodthirster could.

And it was because of the nature of the Eternal Hunter's warband that they were so far away from Khorne's realm when the great battle of war gods, the Blood and Thunder War, was called and waged by Khorne himself. Kho'Astrom had been chasing a sorcerer more powerful and cowardly than usual, having used their magic to escape their execution for nearly five years. And no matter how greatly tempted the rest of their warband was by that point, the Eternal Hunter would not abandon their prey.

It took another year before they were finally caught and brought down, their body cleaved and crushed as a roar of triumph was carried by all those that fought under the Eternal Hunter. Now they could finally make way for a true war.

Yet even as they quickly rushed for the divine battlefield of the Blood and Thunder War they diverged at times to face whatever they could. An army of Feral Orks that had broken into the Warp to head for the same battle, lead by a hulking brute that stood tall as they wielded a massive hammer that was destroyed along with its Warboss.

And then the concealed stronghold of the Mitu Conglomerate, a pathetic race that denied Chaos and used sorcery for strength and hid away inside their own empty realm. Yet now their fear was palpable as they faced their end, now surrounded by a crowd of chanting parasites and weakling daemons of the other four.

At first the Favoured Bloodthirster had come to battle the last of the Mitu race, to take down their barrier and personally wipe out the cowardly empire and to try fighting whatever meager champions or war-machines they held inside. Perhaps even taking their flesh world as an offering for Khorne, as filled with sorcery as it was.

But then something else was sensed as they got closer and, like a gift from Khorne himself had arrived, Kho'Astrom had been blessed with another opportunity for a hunt so great that no member of their warband would ever regret having been so far away from the battleground of gods.

The Eternal Wardens, tens of thousands of them, were in the middle of their own invasion against the last of the Mitu race. The barrier that the flesh moulded stronghold possessed was weakening from their battle as they charged. The sons of the Daemonsbane, his warriors dreaded by many of Chaos, were right there and could be faced within the realm of the Neverborn. Wardens trapped in the Warp, a whole army of them ready to be fought with the full might that those of the Blood God possessed.

It was perfect, there were few other hunts that would be more worthy than this. And some champion, some great leader of them must have been there directing them. No other foe that the Eternal Hunter had fought would compare to than a leading warrior of the Wardens, no prey that they had executed would come close to the importance of such a figure.

To take their skull, to spill their blood, to deliver their soul to Khorne... it would be the greatest trophy, the greatest offering that the Bloodthirster could give.

And so Kho'Astrom bellowed out a cry for war that was carried by all the daemons that followed him as they charged forth to be at the front of the battle soon to occur, excitement and battle-hunger surging through them just as much as the call for war that Khorne had given them.

And that cry for war joined the chant as Nurglings, Horrors and Daemonettes were slaughtered to make way for the warband and to stop from interfering in their greatest of hunts. Kho'Astrom would grant a million deaths to whatever deprived him of this fight.

The barrier, the infernal barrier must fall. Then he would hunt down whatever champions of the Daemonsbane's sons were there, order his forces to slay any Mitu or daemon that dared to face them first, and slaughter the rest.

It just had to fall. Just a little more power. A few more warriors to come and then it would fall.

He chanted with all the might he could give for this, he brought down his twin axes again and again as fast as he could as all his forces joined him in breaking the barrier. To let them in.

It just needed to weaken a little more, just enough for him to see who was there. The one who lead this army, whichever prized son of the Daemonsbane he was. Then he would know who his target was, who he would remember and chase after until they were dead.

It didn't matter how long it took, it didn't matter how far he would have to go, it didn't matter what he would need to do. This was one warrior that the Greater Daemon would kill no matter what.

Kho'Astrom the Eternal Hunter, Favoured Bloodthirster of Khorne, swore to the Blood God that they would butcher whoever lead this invasion.