Introduction
Virulax coughed as he flailed around. He felt something solid strike his arms, and he grabbed on. He was overwhelmed by the sense of vertigo as the giant spoon lifted him out of the muck. He hang on, and waited for the flick of the spoon to deposit him onto solid ground. But it never came. Virulax opened his eyes, licking the slime off his eyelids first. He was hanging by his fingers above an ocean-sized pus-filled cauldron. And he was looking directly into the eyes of his Grandfather.
'Virulax, Virulax, my wayward child' - rumbled a distant thunder. The voice was not unkind, but it showed a measure of disapproval. 'It is twice now in as many days that I must lift you out of my cauldron again.'
'Grandfather!' - sputtered Virulax, spitting and gurgling to clear his throat. 'Give me more troops! I shall prove worthy of your approval once more!'
A giant red eye closed in the distance. Wind blew - tired exhaling.
'Very well. You will get your chance. Take the Drones of the Plague. They shall serve you well.'
***
Virulax crawled his way through the Etheric Void, his host marching behind him. Approaching their target, he unholstered his weapons. He was determined. Not hopeful - hope is the weed in Grandfather's garden. He knew with certainty that he would win. He had to.
Battleplan: Trial of Champions
The veil between worlds ripped open, and daemons spilled into the realm. Virulax shielded his eyes against the sun and looked around.
Ahead, the Stormcast were preparing defensive positions.
To their left, a Zombie Dragon roared its challenge to the living, goaded by the vampire atop it.
And to the left, Skaven dug their way out of the soft earth, their infernal warmachines in tow.
Virulax scooped up a Nurgling from among his folds of flesh and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, once, twice, then spat. The Nurgling flew, hollering at the joy of the flight. It landed with a splash amidst the Skaven, showering the closest with foetid liquids. From the muck of its demise, maggots crawled out to form a hideous, leering visage. They squirmed against each other, tiny legs mimicking a mouth filled with fangs. Through the simulacrum, the Great Unclean One spoke to the surprised Grey Seer.
Ahead, the Stormcast were preparing defensive positions.
To their left, a Zombie Dragon roared its challenge to the living, goaded by the vampire atop it.
And to the left, Skaven dug their way out of the soft earth, their infernal warmachines in tow.
Virulax scooped up a Nurgling from among his folds of flesh and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, once, twice, then spat. The Nurgling flew, hollering at the joy of the flight. It landed with a splash amidst the Skaven, showering the closest with foetid liquids. From the muck of its demise, maggots crawled out to form a hideous, leering visage. They squirmed against each other, tiny legs mimicking a mouth filled with fangs. Through the simulacrum, the Great Unclean One spoke to the surprised Grey Seer.
'Greetings, creature. Let us ally and cleanse the land of this filth. Hold back for now, let the vampire take the initiative. I know how his kind operates. We shall swoop in last, and reap the rewards of our patience.'
'Man-things, dead-things all will soon be slaves for chaos!! Yes-yes-yes!' - chittered the rat-man. The simulacrum twisted in the approximation of a smile, then the maggots dispersed. The Grey Seer stomped on them, then rubbed its hands together. Its smile turned evil.
Battle round 1
The vampire had made a great show of holding back his minions. However, seeing that the enemy moves not in his direction, he could not restrain his own thirst for blood. The Stormcast responded in kind.
The forces of Chaos meanwhile started their march up the field, towards their hapless opponents.
Battle round 2
Riding the lightning storm, Stormcast reinforcements arrived on the field. Vlad the Poker had just enough time for an angry shriek before being pierced by bolts and falling to the ground.
The Skaven advanced on the initial positions of the undead horde. A small group of Rat Ogres crawled out of the ground, behind the surprised Stormcast.
Of course, the Vargheists still thirsted for blood and refused to acknowledge the demise of their leader.
The Bringer of the Pox approached the Great Unclean One.
'Great Virulax, now is the time to strike. Your enemies are fighting each other. All of them are in our reach. Forgo this ridiculous alliance with the lowly ratmen and attack.'
Virulax responded in a heavy tone.
'We shall allow things to run their course.'
Battle round 3
The undead and the Stormcast continued to fight each other, both sides taking heavy casualties. The necromancer assumed control and did whatever he could; alas, the two armies were losing the greater battle.
Seeing his chance, Skittles ordered all three Warp Lightning Cannons to fire on Virulax. The Great Unclean One chuckled, as large chunks of flesh sloughed off of him. He would weather the storm. The betrayal was to be expected.
More Plaguebearers emerged from the foetid pools, leading the vanguard of the force. Virulax ordered everything to march on the treacherous rats.
Battle round 4
The Skaven consolidated around their warmachines. The cannons fired once again, and once again failed to kill Virulax.
And then the Great Unclean One stroke. Virulax uttered his Grandfather's Blessings, allowing Rampant Disease to break out among the rats for a second time. Too late, Skittles realized his error, as the plagues overwhelmed him and he expired with a whimper. Virulax then unleashed his magics, sending a Plague Wind among the Skaven.
Finally, sensing his flesh fully healed thanks to the Endless Gift, Virulax ordered his troops forward.
Plaguebearers and Plague Drones marched toward the war machines droning their chants. One Warp Lightning Cannon soon fell apart beneath the blows.
Aftermath
The skies darkened as the gods let their will fully known: the other champions had run out of time, and there was but one winner: Virulax!
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