Feed the Maw Intro

Korvus the Twisted listened to the din of battle echoing off the rocks as his vanguard column stood behind him. A marauder rode up beside him,

“Why do we wait? There is greater glory in the slaughter and the men need to hone their blades on Kislevite bones!”

Korvus turned his head to the marauder and with no hidden contempt replied, “Slaughter is not the way of Tzeentch. Shall I remove the blood clot from your skull so that you can remember?”

“Careful serpent-tongue, out here in the High Pass your bird god holds little power,” the marauder replied clenching his fist on his reins.

Tensions had been running high in the vanguard as the followers of Tzeentch clashed with those of Khorne. The followers of the Blood God were not keen to march behind a magus of Tzeentch, their spit and sneers as he passed them made that evident enough.

“The Vlagians would disagree if they were around to do so,” the magus replied only to be met by a dumbfounded stare from the marauder. “Very well, take your strongest warriors and see what all that noise is about.”

“And what of you, shall you cower back and let the glory fall to the Blood God?” the marauder asked.

“Ah, my fingers cannot abide this freezing wind. What use would I be if I cannot cast my magic?” Korvus asked in a mocking tone, which flew over the head of the marauder.

“Korvus the Spineless,” the marauder sneered as he spat towards the magus. “Blood for the Blood God,” he bellowed to his men as he lifted an axe and charged west with the wind at his back. “Skulls for the Skull Throne,” his warriors echoed as they followed him, weapons at the ready and frozen spitsicles launched at the magus as they rode by.

Korvus held up his hand to signal to the remaining soldiers to wait. He listened as the din of battle grew sounding the arrival of the Khornish raiders. Korvus could hear the discontent from the Khornish infantry at his back, but his warriors stood silently. A Norse warrior whose head seemed disproportionately small compared to the width of his shoulders strode up to the magus with his massive axe resting on his shoulders.

“Khorne demands blood! Vergrin does not wait!” he bellowed at the magus.

Korvus put a finger to his lips, “Listen.” The clashing of metal slowly began to die down. “It sounds like the battle is over, your chance to spill blood will have to wait.” He lifted his hand and waved forward and in response his column of warriors followed, the Khornish infantry restlessly so.

The column of Chaos warriors snaked through the rocks of High Pass and emerged unto a plain where blood soaked into the snow as a group of forty or so ogres was hauling the bodies to makeshift campfires. One of the ogres looked up at the advancing column and bellowed a guttural cry that caused his companions to drop the bloodied corpses and put their hands to their crude blades and mauls. Korvus indicated to his column to halt and calmly rode forward peering at slaughtered Kislevite soldiers intermingled with Khornish cavalry and allowing a smile to creep onto his face. With palms facing forward he neared the ogres who frothed at the mouth, but one among them grunted some unintelligible sound which seemed to indicate for them to hold the line while he walked forward to Korvus as his fingers danced around the grip of his cleaver.

“Grugarg Lardgut, I have heard of the impressive size of your belly!” Korvus called out.

The ogre spat out a piece of flesh he’d been gnawing on and smiled a bloody smile to the magus, “I’s still got room in ma gut to grow.” He pointed his cleaver at the magus, “Ya come as offerin’ for da Great Maw?”

“We children of the Raven God are but feathers and bones, unfit for the Great Maw. Why eat sparrows when you can feast on pigs?” Korvus replied.

“I don’t see no pigs,” the ogre replied as he walked up to the magus.

“Vergrin! Champion of Khorne approach!” Krovus called out. “Is it meat you want oh mighty Lardgut, or gold?”

“Gold don’t fill no bellies,” the ogre grunted, his warm breath washing over the magus’ face.

“No, but gold is what makes a mighty tyrant, is it not? Does the overtyrant wear chains of iron?”

“Tyrant Grugarg will need lots of gold, Lardgut will need lots of meat,” the ogre smiled as he drew his finger along the edge of his blade. “So you got gold for the tyrant then?”

Vergrin proudly walked up, stretching his shoulders for a fight with the ogre. Korvus looked at him as he approached saying, “Surely a head like yours is unfit for the Skull Throne.” Puzzled Vergrin looked up at the magus. “Here’s something they taught me in the Gold College,” the magus said aloud as he focused his energies and touched the Khornish warrior’s armor, turning the iron into gold to the surprise of Vergrin and Grugarg. The blood began to run to Vergrin’s head as a snarl formed on his face. “And here’s something Tzeentch taught me,” Korvus said as he motioned his glowing hand towards Vergrin’s chest causing blue and purple flames to burst out of the warrior’s skull. Vergrin screamed a short but shrill scream as he crumpled to the ground and his flesh began to crackle. “Your pig and your gold,” Korvus said as he motioned to Vergrin’s body.

Grugarg smacked his lips as the smell wafted up to his nose. He peeled off the golden chest piece with pieces of flesh sticking to it and began to pick at them and toss them into his mouth. “Gonna need more pigs and gold for this tyrant’s gut,” the ogre said as he nodded towards the column of Chaos warriors behind Korvus.

“Sparrows are unfit for a mighty tyrant, you would agree,” Korvus stated as he nodded his head back towards his men. “Fight with me and there will be pigs and gold to feed your needs.”

The ogre sunk his cleaver into Vergrin’s shoulder and held out a bloody hand to the magus, “For the Maw!”

Korvus extended his hand, “For the Raven God.”

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“Pikes to the barricade! Gunners up on the roofs now!” an officer of the Empire stationed in Volksgrad bellowed out orders. The men betrayed their fear as they trembled facing a line of ogres approaching the town in the distance. One could almost hear the tempo of the officer’s heart as his voice quivered while yelled orders to his men.

A boyar calmly walked through the town and put his hand firmly on the Empire officer’s shoulder, “Steady Captain Kuper, steady now. You’ve never fought ogres before?”

“The lads and I have faced worse, it’s just that I don’t want to get eaten alive, that’s all.”