Aftermath of the Storm.Mature

A warhammer fantasy fan fiction. Based after the fall of Archeon, Lord of End Times. His siege of Middenheim was halted and crushed, his hordes scattering back to the blasted wastes from which they came from. In the absence of Archaon's old generals, four new warlords have taken control, each one a chosen servant of a chaos god. These four warlords fight each other now, but heaven knows what should happen if they should ever unite under one banner...

Upon his throne of slain skulls he sat, his face locked in an eternal grimace. His hand resting on the back of a large blood hound, Khorne was growing impatient. He spat, the liquid heading in the direction of a scantily dressed young woman. She winced as the spit landed on her bloodied hair. She stood up and lifted a large orb to Khorne's face, struggling under the weight of the orb. The God of skulls chuckled before stepping of his throne, the hound leaping off his lap and landing beside the already struggling girl. Tears fell from her face as the hound approached her, his mouth watering.

"Please my Lord...don't let me die!"

The Blood God chuckled again, kneeling near her and caressing her face with his hands. "My will not be harmed, however you must do me a favour. He grabbed the orb from her grasp and set it aside. He pulled her close and pressed his lips unto hers. She wanted to pull away but she knew if she did it would mean death. When Khorne pulled away he smiled a malevolent smile and held her close to him. "You will bear my child Laina daughter of Lurg, cheiftain of the Krull tribe and my most dedicated servants. You will herald the child of War itself, a warrior whos power will one day rival mine." He leaned close and kissed her again. "And his name will be Khornatum..."

24 years later

The roaring of men and woman alike could be heard from miles away as the Krull celebrated in the name of their god Khorne. They organised hundreds of bloody spectacles, the bloodiest being one that was taking place at that very moment. A weary woman  watched in quiet observation as her son  flung himself at three marauders from another tribe. One man felt the cold steel of a blade slcie his head as another grunted in pain of an axe wedged in his neck. As the two slumped to the ground, the third man backed away, his sword discarded as he backed away in fear.

"Please...spare me!" he begged. The tall man in a wolfskin coat towered over the poor soul, a malevolent smile on his face and the fires of blodlust burning in his eyes. He twirled his weapons and brought them down, ensuring a squishy and loud sound of metal ripping through muscle and flesh.

The crowd roared in approval, chanting the name of the victor. "KHORNANTUM, KHORNANTUM!" Khornantum lifted his weapons in the air, roaring like a mad beast as blood dripped onto his hair and shoulders.

Laina stared without emotion. The man that stood in front of her was not her son. It was the son of Khorne, the god of war. The man turned to her and smiled, waving his axe in the air. Laina merely nodded before walking back into her large wooden cabin.

The smile faded from Khornantum's face. His axe slowly dropped to the ground as he was pulled into the adoring arms of the crowd. However it didn't matter to him. All he wanted to do his entire life was make his mother proud of him. One day, She'll love day she'll be proud to call me her son! Khornantum raised his arms into the air, determined to accomplish his goal.

The End

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