The fetid ground they walked upon seemed to expand forever. The cliffs they came down were now out of sight, though they knew they could never go back. All it was now was walking, forever forward, toward the swirling mass of clouds ahead. And all the while an incomprehensible muttering was in their ears. Chanting and rabbling, slowly driving them into madness.
Taltosh had wondered about these voices since they'd slain the beasts. He could feel that they were connected to the landscape somehow, but he wasn't sure. He pondered the soil he walked upon. It was firm, but slick and somehow rotten. He could hardly shake the notion that he was walking on blood. This disturbed and sickened Taltosh, and he looked to his comrades to remind himself that he was safe with them.
But they were gone, and Taltosh saw that he was no longer in the barren wasteland. He was surrounded now by trees, but the fact that they were alive came as no comfort to him. Their shape and color betrayed their nature; the sickly brown trunks, the black and bleeding leaves, the spikes and thorns bursting through every inch of bark. These trees were feeding on the dead earth, and they seemed as if they would lash out and devour Taltosh if only they could move. A light fog began to roll in and he knew he would have to find a way out quickly. Taltosh walked forward, minding his steps as he moved into the fog.
He began to tire. Exhaustion from what felt like days of travel through this horrible, filthy land and now this putrid forest without so much as a moment's rest was fast overcoming him, threatening to steal his consciousness from him and leave him lying vulnerable in this place. He hadn't noticed the approach of the nearly two dozen men who now surrounded him. Taltosh drew his swords and looked up at the warriors who had now encircled him. These men towered over him, fully armored in blackened plate bristling with spikes and grim, mangled trophies from those they'd slain. Each carried in one hand a sword any average man would strain to wield with two and a shield that covered nearly their entire mass. "Cowards," he growled, "you haven't the strength to come one at a time!" Taltosh looked hurriedly for a champion, a leader among them. He'd scarcely turned around when the shadow loomed over him. This man was a colossus, broad shouldered and taller even than an orc. Taltosh backed away from him and looked again. He stood over seven feet tall, his face and eyes hidden behind a skull-faced helm with an eight-pointed star emblazoned into the forehead. He carried no shield, but carried a massive spiked iron club in its place in addition to a giant, serrated sword. The champion took his stance, and Taltosh followed suit.
Taltosh rushed forward and stopped himself before the man's sword could sever his head. Such was the strength of the warrior that he could swing his massive sword with incredible ease. Taltosh stepped backward to avoid the return strike and hurried again as the massive club swung low for his legs. Taltosh stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling out of the way just as the warrior plunged his sword into the earth where he was. Taltosh put distance between himself and the champion who faced him. This was no mortal man, of that Taltosh was now certain. There was no time to wonder about the source of his power, the champion now charged furiously toward him. Taltosh couldn't rush back anymore, the warriors had formed a circle around the two, and he was nearing its edge. Taltosh had no choice but to charge back, rolling just to the outside of another sword strike. The man brought his club down toward Taltosh, who couldn't as much block as guide the massive thing away with both swords. Taltosh quickly thrust the tip of his sword between the joints in the man's arm harness, and pulled it out with a twist. The brute dropped his club and backed off. Taltosh had injured him, but the man did not cry out, did not seem to mind in the slightest. The champion now approached again, his sword held in front of him. He went for a chop at Taltosh's side, and when Taltosh put his swords out to block and step back, the man pulled his shot and lunged forward. Taltosh could barely move, the blade ripping it's way past his side, tearing his flesh and ribs. But the warrior was open, and Taltosh used this time to drive his sword straight into the warrior's belly, his own sharp steel punching through the warrior's heavy armor and chain. But a cold grasp now held both of Taltosh's hands, a second on his throat. The warrior squeezed his neck, and forced Taltosh to look him in the eye as he wrenched his hands to the side. Taltosh heard his sword snap at the blade, the tip still plunged into the stomach of the massive, iron man. The champion's one hand lifted Taltosh off his feet to level with the eyes of the champion. Taltosh saw nothing past the sockets in the helm- no malice, no rage, nothing but black emptiness. The champion spoke, his voice as low and grim as death:
"Why aren't you afraid?"
"Killing me is the worst you can do, it is what I seek."
"You are mistaken. If I kill you, your name can never be cleared."
"Why don't you kill me then, and end it? If I can't beat you, then I can't hope to defeat all of them."
"Because you are not a weakling. Our gods have watched you and your companions, they have favored all of you."
"Why? What have we done but wandered?"
"You made it down the cliff while our sorcerers tried to throw you from it. You slew Khorne's Flesh Hounds as though they were but common dogs. You have traveled for days without rest, on ground that consumes all but the blood of those who die upon it."
"I fought you and lost. Why do you not kill me?"
"You did not lose because you are not skilled. I have the favor and strength of the gods. I am a Champion of Chaos! No mortal like you could hope to defeat me. And you knew this! You knew this and you were not afraid to fight. You even tried to kill me!"
"My gods have chosen you to have their gifts. You will have the strength to overcome those who've wronged you. You will take back everything that is yours, and more. You will bring nations beneath your heel! All you need to do is accept."
"I would have everything back if I accepted, but I will never have my honor that way."
"Then you must die."
"No."
Taltosh drove his remaining sword upward into the space in the Champion's helm. The grip on his neck released, and Taltosh fell to the ground. His side was still bleeding and hurt, but he gathered up to his feet as fast as he could to face the warriors around him. They stood, watching the body of their former Champion melting into the ground- armor, bones, everything but the blood. A whispering could be heard over the air"
Let this one go. All will come to Chaos in time.
The warriors left Taltosh there in the woods. Alone again, he felt ill and near death. His strength had finally failed him, but the danger had passed for now. Taltosh could feel his body falling.
He would live this one more day. His side torn, his sword broken, his clothing putrid and soaked with blood.
Taltosh woke outside the forest, at the place where his footsteps appeared to have left those of his friends. He would follow the path, find them, and escape this place with them.
But there would be no escaping his decision to come here. His side had grown numb now, all except for a tingling where the sword tore him open. He looked to find it looking as though it were infected. The wound had indeed sealed, but blackened veins spread outward from it. He was curious to how much it looked like a star, though he didn't give it any more thought as he continued forward.
There is no escape from Chaos. It marks us all.
