Warlock reared up his steed, the creature's dread hooves flailing high in the air, summoning his horsemen around him. Those seven heroes had pursued his coven ever since they had taken custody of the Ark of Alternatives. Now they blundered into his trap and the Disciples of Tzeentch would sink in their talons.
They were great warriors, in their way. Each a mighty champion of the ruinous powers, their weapons soaked red. But against the inscrutable machinations of the Great Architect, they were lost sheep. And sheep, Warlock thought, were born to be sheared.
Civil war? Not quite -
It's All-Skype Fight Night!
Continuing our Ark of Alternatives campaign, our next fight sees me, Kraken, as the forces of chaos. A small, select squad of infamous Slaves to Darkness, known names across the realms, has mustered to try and destroy the Ark before it can be opened. Can the Tzeentch Arcanists gathered under Stylus's banners (that's me, in bold) see me off?