A Saurus stoically stood, leering at his lone Saurian opponent with its blade adorned club held firmly. between and all around them, stood the trees that had started shedding their brightly colored leaves in earnest. The undergrowth; barely noticeable amidst the many leaves that fell upon them.
With a shattering roar, the Saurus charged forth, trembling the many watching leaves above.
His opponent; a suspected preacher of the ancient enemy, was found out not before it killed a Skink priest and fled.
The Saurus bought down his heavy club in a vertical slash, intersecting with his opponent's own club in fury.
His opponent; among the many that were the Saurus' spawn brethren. All of them, together, looked forward towards bashing in the small ratty heads of the Skaven.
The Sauri roared in pain as both of their clubs met flesh instead of each other, raining the blood of their respective masters onto the numerous leaves before them.
And yet… here they were, fighting to the death as if both of their destined fates intertwined with each other with only one allowed to continue… a logical analogue towards nature itself, indeed, they thought.
The Saurus leaped at his opponent in an attempt to bring down the full force of his strength and his resolve down into an unrelenting swing. His opponent, however, side stepped fast enough away from the downward swing, swinging his club in return.
But at what cost does this logical analogue of nature pertain to? The Saurus prayed and prayed to the Old Ones in many illogical hopes and dreams that the accusations were false…
The Saurus weakly blocked his opponent's attack, stuttering slightly at its inertia powering through his Saurian body. Seeing this, his opponent quickly followed up with another horizontal swing to end this.
Why must Chaos manifest through the souls of the many? At what point in the future will the Old Ones' world and all of its souls fall into the deepest depths of chaos? Is there any hope for any of us at all?
The Saurus instinctively leapt back to avoid the club, but it was too late, for it carved a meager path through his torso, raining a stream of painful blood. He leered into the small redden eyes of his opponent with rage making his Saurian body tremble. Under the cold cloudy skies, the reach of the dark powers seemed infinite, but the yearnful, burning flicker of the Old Ones' children still burns on despite this. The burning blood inside him told him further: Winning here is paramount; survival isn't.
The opponent took to the initiative, and charged forth, seeing that victory is but only a falling leaf away. Enraged, but dutifully focused, the Saurus deceptively waited until only the perfect moment. The opponent's club prepared itself for another downing of saurian blood as it spear headed towards the Saurus. Before it could strike, however, the Saurus side stepped away, swinging his own club with all his might towards the opponent's out stretched club.
It's all over now.
The stricken club dropped from the opponent's scaly hands, providing the perfect opening to end this. The Saurus slashed his opponent's torso before it could reliably defend itself, dropping down onto a pile of leaves below. With victory hung high in the drafty air, the Saurus raised his club above his opponent's head.
"Any last words, spawn brother?"
"I've fallen… and so will all at some point!" The opponent roared whilst struggling and detesting its fate, "Chaos is all there is, spawn brother!"
With those roars sounded off, the Saurus' club cleaved through the head it's been yearning to cleave through. The Opponent's Saurian head rolled forward from its body, bathing in a pool of blood.
It's all over now…
Many hours later, the Saurus stopped its march back to its temple city and looked up above.
A single golden-brown leaf dangled upon its branch. It was lonely with all of its brethren already fallen down to the ground; destined to be decomposed into the soil of the ground below.
It occurred to the Saurus that his spawning brother's body will do the same; far into the unforeseeable future, feeding the hungry soil below its nutrients – a way of nature and the Old Ones despite his treachery.
The leaf suddenly fell and gilded down onto the Saurus' scaly snout.
He then did the unthinkable. He contradicted what his spawn brethren would expect of him. He contradicted the will of the Slann mage-priests. He contradicted his sole purpose put forth for him by the Old Ones themselves.
He cried.