The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, The return of Greivus

"The darkness has set in now, its been awhile. I remember it just as though it were still happening, every breath, every swing. I still feel the pain in my bicep from swinging the blade. This is how it all happened."

"The light was scarce, in the land called Troll Country, a detachment of Destruction were sent to kill the Order entrenched in the Monastery of Morr. They had no idea how many were there, only knew that it would be required that they take the Monastery at all costs, it was a strategic location with importance to the effort against the armies of 'Order'. It was right near their foothold into the Troll Country that was their main supply route for the entire forces even in to Nordland, it was a crucial point. I, Greivus, Chosen of Tzeentch, Fear Eater of the Anti-Sanctus Chaotica was among those sent on this mission.

We arrived just before sundown, we kept our presence concealed as well as possible. Even evading scouts and watchmen just to ensure that we would be able to attack with the entire element of surprise. When night came, we moved in, we attacked with deathly precision. Cutting through the main chunk of their defences before they even knew what was upon them. A few of us fell as the Wizards of Fire spewed forth like a sea of flames upon us. However they were not able to stop our advance, and in turn ended up getting crushed beneath blades and choppas. We secured the location without too much trouble. That is when we saw it, an entire division marching towards us. We were few, the ones who were not dead or injured were fatigued from the massacre.

Seeing our enemies marching, the fear began to grow in the hearts of those around me, I could feel it. It was like standing in the middle of the coldest snowstorm. Before we could reform, we began to receive barrages of arrows. Here and there we fell. I received a few arrows myself. It would of been the end if one had not stepped forward, it was a Knight of the Empire. Standing there in his ridiculous armor, he stepped forward. With only a moments pause, I too stepped forward, out of the ranks of my dead and dying comrades. Raising my blade I pointed it to him and charged in.

The sound of metal meeting metal was almost as deafening as the roar of the onlookers, the battle would be decided upon our duel. We exchanged blow after blow, never getting the best of one another. It seemed like days that we stood there and exchanged blows, i still feel the ache in my bicep.

We battled back and forth until I saw it, the moment of weakness, his shield had been knocked too far back. Only a split second, but a true warrior only needs that much of an opening. I slammed my blade into his side, feeling the blood drain down my blade I let loose a wicked cry to the gods, letting them know who was the better. That is when it happened, I felt arrow after arrow rip into me, I still feel them, the steel serrated tips ripping through my muscles, through tendons with ease. The pain, the unimaginably glorious pain.

Staggering forward, I charged their ranks with a mighty bellowing warcry. I am ashamed to say I did not even make it to their lines, I was killed. And thus here I am, I am dead, though I still remember the pain as though it were replaying continually. I still feel the fire in my lungs, the burning hatred in my eyes, and, my bloodlust.

.. What.. what is this? I can hear myself breathing, my eyes.. they are beginning to open.."

Around him stood giant pillars painted red, blood red. It was a temple, of this he was sure. But this was not the temple of Tzeentch, this was the temple of Khorne, the Chaos god of Blood. Raising up to a sitting position he felt his body wracked with pain, it was as though he would die all over again. Moving out of the shadows a man clad in robes, covered from head to toe spoke.

"Ahh, you must be Greivus Serravic, a pleasure to meet you, I am known as Karn." A pale hand moved forward placing on his chest, with the hand the pain began to subside.

"Karn, why am I back.. What does your god seek from me?" Greivus cared very little for the relief of pain, he knew there was a reason he was back, being brought back from the dead by a Khornite was not something that occurred with any form of regularity, there must be a catch.

"You ask me why? I am not given reasons, I am told, and I do. There is however this." He pulled out a red stone, covered in black runic writing.

Grabbing it from him, he felt something pulling at his soul, his eyes closed, and he instantly felt as though he was dead once more.

His eyes opened, but he was not in the same room, it was huge the size of where he stood. He looked around before he heard it, coming towards him he stood there and looked in awe. A group of Khornite deamons standing before him, and one stepped forward, raising its blade and looked down to him.

"You, Greivus, once Chosen of Tzeentch.. Your final duel before your demise has risen the interest of our lord, your god, Khorne himself. As such you are given another life, curteousy of him. You are to return to the field of battle, and let the glorious bloodshed continue, in his name. If you fail to do so, you will suffer.."

With that a dark bellowing voice boomed through the halls. "Arise, Greivus Painbringer, Chosen of Khorne, arise and give unto me, a sea of blood and destruction!"

His eyes opened and he was back, looking to Karn. He did not speak he stood up, the pain in his body being supressed by his burning lust for battle. Turning his head he speaks "Where is my armor and blade?"

He is led to his armor, looking at it, it had indeed been awhile since his demise, his armor rusted and his blade chipped. He cared not, pulling on the rusted and tattered armor he struck the blade against the wall.

He returned to Karn, who stood ready and opened a portal to the lands in which he died. He stepped through, seeing the Monastery of Morr, there was a division of Order and a Division of Destruction readying for battle. He moved through the ground of Destruction, hearing words of doubt and feeling the fear in the air.

He stepped out front of the division, drawing his blade, his rusted and damaged armor making him stand out. "Listen well, for I do not enjoy repeating myself!" The eyes of the others now focusing on him, and not a sound was heard.

"We, the armies of Destruction.. We do not feel fear, let that emotion die within you. As we are that which is to be feared! Make them remember what it means to fear and doubt, without respite. Take their strength, their hope and their faith and show them the futility of it in the face of true Destruction. Let them who hear of this battle, begin to remember fear, for we shall destroy their very core. Let them bare witness to the glorious onslaught of the tide of destruction!" He bellowed out in a warcry before charging the lines of the Order, the sound of the earth being crushed beneath their feet as the entire division charged into battle.

That day, they knew true fear, fear of Greivus Painbringer, fear of Destruction!