Malagor Rising

Malagor could sense their inevitable approach, he knew he couldn't fail the chaos gods this time even though they were not telling him the full scope of their dark plans. Everything was an urge to the Bray Shaman and the gods wanted the Sisters of the Bryars dead, and so it shall be... Even so, Malagor could feel a dark cloud lurking over the gods plans, they were uncertain as to the correct action to take and the developing story of Nagash's resurrection had all but halted their advances.

What would their plan of action be?

Malagor didn't dwell on the thought long as his bestial urges demanded that food required gourging upon and with that he ripped a fresh chunk from a roasted spawn arm. 'All the nutrients to expand the magical mind', Malagor thought to himself.

But the visions kept coming, blurry images of a burning city and a dark lord returned, the hopes and fears of the chaos gods had been flashing brighter every day. It would be enough to drive a sane man delirious, but Malagor had become atuned to this chaotic affliction. But there  was one premonition that shook him to the core, an image of putrid pestilence running rife through the streets and forests of the old world, there would be war with no end however those fighting were shrouded in mystery.

Malagor grunted and exhaled, he needed a new herd as he had lost a great swathe of his mighty host whilst guerilla fighting the Wood Elves. And to make matters worse a maddened Orc army had decided to pitch in on the carnage, to survive Malagor needed a new Herd and fast and it wouldn't be easy as many Herd leaders were tough to win over, but perhaps one might.

"Yes...", Malagor hissed.

"Gorgarron and his pathetic followers will obey me, he will be the first to fall to the seven - and when he does the swarm will come".

Malagor retrieved his staff and made haste; he didn't have long until Geheimnisnacht.