Cyrdic's lips parted as reality shimmered and shaped before his eyes. What occurred  was a hellish ritual he felt instinctively repulsed by. A ritual of chaos over the course of time immemorial. Briefly a mental recollection sparked in his mind. Something that Thraggi had mentioned on one of their adventures. [i]Uzkul-Dhrazh-Zharr[/i] he had said on one of their drinking binges. The Chaos Dwarfs. 

Cloven hoofed and horned, muttering a language archaic yet fouler than rot. He felt it a mercy that the vision faded, the corruption sending a shiver up his spine to his traditional, Imperial sensibilities. The sight of the Chosen of Chaos before him, while daunting, was far more familiar. It was something he could kill. And he was all too eager. However, wading through a sea of Skaven was not something he had expected. If he hadn't caught their stench he would have been overwhelmed. Even if they simply attacked what he knew to be Theodric the Cursed, their scrabbling claws rent at his traveling cloak and shield in order to get at the Champion. 

For his part, Thaddeus Von Eikenhouser was stricken by the sheer weight of his sanity from the warp corruption that overwhelmed him. He was not a weak man, but he was not so used to fighting the unbridaled servants of Chaos like the other two. He waved his sword wildly to cut across the ratmen whom not moments ago he believed to be myth. Cyrdic tried to call to him, but he was wild eyed and unresponsive. 

"Why do you disturb me?" The Champion asked, his voice echoing in their minds, perfectly discernible even above the chittering and screeches. For some strange reason, Cyrdic could tell he was speaking directly to he and Camilla. "The thread of your fates do not end with me. Slaanesh shall thirst upon you for eternity/Khorne has blood and brass in your future." The two distinct prophecies were imparted between Camilla and Cyrdic, respectively. 

Cyrdic clove through Skaven left and right, splitting skulls and shattering spines with his large, runic blade. It howled with a savagery. "Where is Karl!?" Cyrdic demanded of the ruinous champion. "Tell me you thrice poxed bastard!" 

The situation was quickly devolving into madness. A Skaven died every other second, and yet there were still dozens. Theodric of Tzeentch glowed with power, moving as inexorable as the ending of time. Cyrdic cut his way toward him, too enraged to know fear, as Thaddeus was cut and bitten while he waved his large sword. 

"He is apart of fate, as all are." Theodric the Ruinous declared. "Izch ackna al khul Tzeentch." 

The phrase was whispered across the room as if from a thousand voices chanting. As the Skaven were sheared through by one last sweep of his massive sword, a figure rose from among the bodies. Cloaked and hooded. A torque of bronze and silver glinted with witch-light. "Servants of the Horned Rat cannot gain the power that is here. It is only through submission to the Changer that one gains sight beyond sight." 

The voice was altered and snake-like, but familiar. Cyrdic stopped midswing, seeing into the hood, his friend. 
[@Penny]