The Beastman prostrated itself before the Champion of Tzeenth, shuddering and giving hoarse whinnies as it reported the lost scent. Within their tent of human skin, the leaders spoke to one another of their current service to the Dark Gods. Velabrass Blackhelm gazed down at the Beastman. So overwhelmed was the mutant at the sheer majesty of the warrior, it did not even flee or cry out as his glowing blade flashed, shearing the beast in half, its body falling onto the ground with a wet thump.

"Let [i]me[/i] go after them," Gildenhoof purred, the Slaaneshi champion moaning with anticipation for the hunt. With horns that twisted sensually above his golden head, his impossibly wide mouth bared fangs as he spoke to the current leader of the Warband, Velabrass Blackhelm, Chosen of the Changer of Ways. "Let me catch the woman...I must feel her once more." 

"You'll do nothing to her," Velabrass commanded, standing above Gildenhoof and beside his throne, the material that made up the chair ever shifting, bending reality as if its mere presence was an affront to logic, yet an undeniable truth all at once. "Nothing until I collect the vial she carries. Once we have it, you can do what you will with her." True, there were still beastmen combing the wildlands, and perhaps a few would get lucky. But he doubted it. 

"And the man?" Gildenhoof breathed, lust glinting in his eyes. To anyone else, the voice would have drawn them into a trance, luring them into impossible ecstacy as he killed them. To Velabrass, it was an annoyance, nothing more. "The man has great hatred in him, I could smell it. His blade is powerful. Oh it plots our destruction, it does..." 

Velabrass knew it. He had foreseen the blade's power, and the warrior that wielded it. It could be a danger even to he.

"Make sure he is dead." 
[hr] 
With eyes that betrayed the vast intelligence that lurked beneath its monstrous head, Reigynferlgar the Crimson gazed upon the ground far below her, letting out a powerful beat of its wings. Steam and the decaying stench of rotting corpses cascaded out of its great maw as it searched the Reikwald for the ones responsible for her inner torment.

Below the trees covered a vast land, and in the distance she could see various lights dotting the landscape. Within the clouds, destinations that would take days to journey toward could be seen by the naked eye in an instant, with but a turn of the head. She knew she was within the heart of the Empire, but her reserve had fled long ago. Her children had been stolen, and she would rip apart all of Middenland to find who was responsible, and swallow them whole.  

[hr] 

Even Cyrdic was exhausted. The soft earth of the river's shoreline had pulled at his muscles, but he moved with an Ostland stubborness until Camilla collapsed. He didn't even join her at the water at first. He fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily for a moment as he collected himself. 

"I think we're ok for the moment," he breathed, and forced himself to crawl forward until he dunked his head into the water as Camilla had, slurping up as much of the precious liquid as he could before yanking his head out. He tried to stand, but then staggered backwards and fell onto the soft earth, closing his eyes for the moment. 

The trees hid the hoof beats of the Beastmen, mere miles away and fast approaching.
[@Penny]