"Cyrdic!" 

"You must live!"

The Ostlander ran ahead of the group, the others unable to leave the protective field of Dietrichia's enchantment save Skaldi, whose short legs did not allow him to move near the pace Cyrdic did. The Ostlander knew the smell of the barbarian, and his runic sword gave renewed energy and strength to his tired limbs at the prospect of killing a follower of the ruinous powers. But what's more, he felt something different. His ears heard a distinct whistling in the air, the Ostlander's body feeling the shifts of the Chaos winds about him. 

And he smelled blood. 

His sword howled into his mind, and the eyes of his wolfish pommel glowed. A rock suddenly exploded out of the cracked ground, but Cyrdic vaulted over it as if he had seen it from miles off. The next pillar to erupt from the ground, he split with a stroke of his sword, too engrossed in the hunt to notice the superhuman feat he had just performed. The winds grew stronger, and bit into the very rock as he ducked and dodged his way through the maze of rocks that threatened to disembowel him with every eruption. 

He could swear he heard an insane laughter in the air, echoing across the walls of stone around him, and then one word was whispered into his very being. 

[i]Slaanesh[/i] 

Cyrdic exploded out of the shifting landscape, the wind and destruction around him silenced so suddenly, it felt like a forgotten memory from long ago. He breathed in deeply, and smelled a myriad of scents he recognized. But only two mattered. The scent of Camilla, and the scent of corrupted magic. He had learned to use his sense of smell before his eyesight through a natural transfer of senses, one now stronger than the other. He gazed upwards to see a desert of white sand that he saw extended beyond the very fringes of the world. The mountains and ruins were gone, and in their place were two bodies not forty paces away. One of them was a huge Norscan that had been cut limb from limb, bleeding into the dirt, yet somehow cackling hoarsely. 

The other was Camilla.

"No!" he cried, running to her as fast as his legs were able, his enhanced energy somehow radiating through his body as his limbs were still weakening from the emotional pull of his hopelessness. Cyrdic made it to the small patch they lay upon and he skidded into the sand to his knees. The dust billowed, his throat constricted as he reached down to gently lift Camilla up, cradling her head. The Tilean's eyes gazed listlessly forward wherever her head was turned. "Hey," he breathed, cupping her chin and turning her to look at him. "Camilla..." 

"Hyou ckankt shav her," the Norscan croaked from behind them, hacking blood. "Shlaanesh conchsumes er." 

Cyrdic turned to the Norscan like a whip, his eyes glowing silver and his teeth bared savagely, his face so brutally altered into abject fury that it caused the Norscan to pause before he dare speak next. The Ostlander turned back to Camilla, his visage calming. He clenched his jaw and patted Camilla's cheek. "Little Bird...Camilla please," he breathed, but there was nothing. His eyes flicked to the ornate, gleaming sword that lay next to her. The Glyphs along the fuller blazed brightly, and he suddenly realized what he must do. 

Cyrdic lifted his runic sword before him, and tried to intone a litany. "By Ulric, Sigmar, and all enemies of Chaos... banish all evil from this place." The prayer might not have been necessary, but he would take no chances. The runes along his Ulrican blade burned so brightly, many would be concerned that they would scald upon the touch. But he lay it across Camilla's forehead, and Cyrdic closed his eyes, hoping beyond hopes the magic would expel the Chaos that was invading the body of his lover and companion. 
[@Penny]