Millions stood still upon the walls of Kasr Kraf, the adamantine fortress defended by steel and faith. Tens of millions more bayed for blood, death and ruin of man in tongues mannish and demonic. Among the countless mass figures moved, red and tall, axes of shadowed steel, horns adored with gory trophies and wings spewing from the armor, final nail in the humanity of their bearers. And above them yet stood skies, dark and bloody, covered with traitor warships forcing the defenders to seek cover and avoid open battle.
A lone figure strode forth from among the multitudes, rising above them on a hill of captive bodies and raised it's hellblade at fortress city. No further signal was needed, the dam broke and frothing madmen charged forth, their screams and baying filling the ears of all that could hear it, their charge shaking the ground itself within and without the city.
Landmines were the first to respond, several miles out from city proper, mighty explosives raising dirt, sand and shattered bone to heaven itself. Then came the razor wires, a mile forth they tangled the multitudes but there was no stopping them. The wave pushed on, those behind pressing on those forward, crushing them against the blades or beneath their feet. Skirmishers. Meat shields. Many names and same purpose, to clear the field for those of value. It is here that first las rifles cracked, cutting trough flesh and ozone and spreading their characteristic scent. Heavy bolter emplacement responded as well. 75 caliber rounds exploding within traitor and heretic, blowing gaping holes in steel and flesh. It was here that the defenders were at their highest power. It was here they'd reap their toll. And it was here they'd realize that no matter how many fall the forces of Chaos will keep coming and advancing.
"Blood for the Blood God!" screamed the wave as it washed over the first line of the defenders, breaching bunkers with charges or suicide bombers, screams of the dying filling the ears soon after as living men were torn limb from limb like ants. The torrent rushed as blood spilled, for battle worthy of Khorne more must yet spill.
"Skulls for the Skull throne!" responded cultists scaling the walls with hook, ladder or jetpack, offering up their own tribute in bone and blood to their God of choice.
But as the blood kept being spilled and corpses kept piling up in tens of thousands by the minute, those attuned to the warp, those of the warp could hear a different chant. Softly, quietly, barely a whisper over the corrupted crowd but there all the same, rising as the struggle moved to it's climax.
"Let their PLANS crumble! Let their CYCLES break! Let their RAGE be consumed by his eternal hate! For their EXCESS only marks them as prey in the eyes of the BEAST. Rip and Tear, UNTIL IT IS DONE!"
"Blood for the Blood God!"
"Kar en Tuk"
"Skulls for the Skull Throne"
A spirit lingered over the battlefield, a spirit of rage and slaughter, to most it seemed as favor of their God they long sought. But the soul was pure, and it cried out to the void. The skies above darkened with clouds, pulled together like wool, then spun like a boiling cauldron until a whirlpool formed above the fortress city.
"Kar en Tuk!"
The mark of the beast appeared trough flashes of lightning. Had they only the mind to recognize it.
"Kar en Tuk!"
The horde pressed onward, rallied by their blood red leaders, slaughtering Guardsmen, Sisters of Battle and Astartes alike. The civilian areas that were breached were naught more than charnelhouse, gore flowing from every door and window.
"Bloo-"
"KAR!" The skies finally broke, a single bolt flew down to the ground and impacted the horde where city gates once stood.
"-or the B-"
"EN!"
Combatants stopped, reeling in shock and silence reigned as the dust slowly settled.
"TUK!"
From dust rushed a man, clad in green from head to toe right into the arms of a Demon Prince. He wound up his hand in pathetic, maddened attempt to kill the Chosen of the God with bare hands. The Prince didn't even bother with blocking, raising his mighty axe in the air and spreading his wings, image of terror to come and suitable reward for pathetic worm with a grain of courage to at least die like the maddened beast. He snarled and brought the axe down, when he first felt it. The fist broke armor, skin, flesh and bone, right trough the chest. At that moment the understanding dawned upon him, of just who this man was and terror gripped his heart just as well as Slayers hand did as he beheld the fate that awaited him. With a second punch to the shoulder the Demon Prince was sent flying backwards as slayer stood with trophy in hand raising it high above him, the still beating heart of his foe that so disgusted him. Rather than stop the heart sped up it's beating to match the chant which now became audible to all those of Chaos present here.
"KAR EN TUK!"
"KAR EN TUK!"
"KAR EN TUK!"
"KAR EN TUK! KAR EN TUK! KAR EN TUK! KAR EN TUK!"
A foreign language, an unknown language, but the meaning they felt within. RIP AND TEAR! The hunters have become the hunted. And as he reached to the void only to return with a strange two barreled gun all they could hear was the weapon screaming "FEEEEEED MEEEEEEE!" thirsting for their very souls.