One day in the frozen north four brothers who were Sorcerers of Tzentch got into a argument over who was more favored by their god. They argued for hours claiming the superiority of their warbands and showing off their most impressive spells. When the youngest brother almost scorched one of the middle brothers the eldest had had enough. He declared that they would compete for their god's favor by setting out on a journey across the world to defeat a great enemy and bring back a token of victory to present before Tzentch. As he spoke a raven was heard to caw loud and clear and thus it was decided. The contest was on!
The youngest brother, rash and arrogant, set out for the steamy jungles of Lustria. Determined to bring back one of the Palanquin's of the Slann Mage Priests. So he could hover along wherever he went showing the superiority of Tzentch over the power of the Old-Ones. The next oldest set out for Bretonnia, determined to bring back the head of a Grail Knight Lord to show Tzentch the superiority of men who were chosen and imbued by the power of a true god instead of some fey witch. The eldest set out for the shores of Ulthuan to steal a rare artifact from the White Tower in Saphery to strike fear into the hearts of the race that declared that they had defeated Tzentch so long ago with their vortex.
The fourth brother however set out on a different path. Landing his warband along a deserted coast in Estalia he secretly cut across the human lands. His goal was in some ways far more sinister. In a dream Tzentch had shown him his task, the fourth brother would enter the forbidden forest of Athel Loren and disrupt the waystones sealing off the Wildwood releasing the restless spirits held there to disrupt the defenses of the forest long enough for Cyanathair to begin a fresh campaign of terror.
(The 4th brother's tale is told here: http://asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=19&t=20916&p=277945#p277945)
The youngest brother knew that the easiest way to reach the new world would be by boat. As such he had the men of his Warband raid a local fishing village which had sworn allegiance to the great enemy of Tzentch, his brother who hated all magic, Khorne. With the village's Warriors away on a raid of their own the local Marauders could not stop the youngest brother and his Warband from slaughtering his way through the village to the docks. Once there his men seized the boats and set out leaving a small portion of the villagers alive who had fled. The young Warlock could not allow his god's mission to be slowed down hunting scattered weaklings across the length of the tundra.
The decision was made to avoid Ulthuan as the young Sorcerer knew his elder brother was heading towards the forbidden island and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally aid his brother by causing some form of distraction. As such he ordered his small fleet to hug the northern coast making sail towards the home of the darker half of the Elvenkind, Naggaroth, home of the Druchii. Several times the Sorcerer was forced to delve deep into the lore of Shadows to shield the fleet from the sight of Dark Elven Corsairs and once the young one even caught sight of one of the dreaded Black Arks.
Still, undaunted by the sights of the dark shores of Naggaroth the warband pressed on now towards the south. The air grew warmer causing the marauders to stow away their heavy fur cloaks. The Warriors on the other hand suffered the heat stoically, if their heavy Chaos Dwarven armor caused them discomfort they did not show it. The Sorcerer on the other hand began to grow impatient. Although he knew that the gift to Tzentch of a Palaquin of the Old Ones would be might indeed he was concerned about the amount of time it would take to reach Lustria and return. As such he abandoned his original plan of linking up with local kinsmen at the colony of Skeggi, set up some 16 centuries prior by the Marauder Losteriksson, and decided instead to head towards the nearest Temple City which he had seen in a vision. The city of the sun, Hexoatl.
This rash decision would prove to be his undoing. The moment that he set one mailed boot on the shores of Lustria a Slann-Mage priest of the third spawning awoke from a slumber that had lasted a full millennium. The Skink-Priests chattered incessantly over what this could portend. Only 20 Mage-Priests of the third spawning still lived to this day, and for one to awake so suddenly without provocation proved that a moment of crisis had come. The ancient Toad turned to a nearby Priest ordering him to ready a force for battle immediately and to bring up one of the ancient artifacts of the Old-Ones from the vault.
Overjoyed with the honor of having been addressed by so powerful a being the Skink-Priest immediately acknowledged the order and took charge of his fellows. Quickly a company of Saurus Warriors and their hardened Temple Guard brethren were readied for battle. A unit of Skinks also prepared to set out with a pair of their larger cousins the Kroxigors who had been pulled off of a construction task to aid the little ones in battle. Finally to round out the quickly assembled host came the tool of the Old-Ones. Mounted on the back of a great Ancient Stegadon the ancient artifact hummed and whirred in ways that no living creature, even the venerable Lord Mazdamundi, could possibly understand. As the Stegadon passed the assembled ranks of Saurus, Skinks, and Kroxigors took a knee to honor the Old-Ones and their great work which these humble servants carried out now without them.
With their host assembled it was now time to meet the unknown foe that had dared to tread paths that were not meant for mere mortal man-lings.
(To be continued)