Warp lighting flashed and howling gale force wind whipped across the Plain of Chaos, a Daemon world deep within the Eye of Terror. If it could be called a world at all, being merely a flat, disc shaped expanse of featureless hard packed earth barely a kilometers in diameter that held in orbit four satellites, one red, one green, one pink, one blue.
Despite its appearance as one of the many random and meaningless designs of the mad gods of Chaos, the Plain of Chaos was a perhaps the most revered place to the Hosts of the Lost and the Damned that dwelled within the Eye of Terror. For the Plain of Chaos was the wager ground of Dark Gods themselves. Though it is known that battles between the Chosen armies of Gods of Chaos are a frequent occurrence, many a Daemon world changing hands at the result of such battles. However, this was nothing compared to the significance that the Plain of Chaos played in the eternal sparring between the Dark Gods. For the battles on the Daemon worlds were merely for sport, simple entertainment to malevolent entities. Battle on the Plain of Chaos however was for pride, where the Chaos Gods ritually hand picked their most favored champion to do battle in their name. To be chosen as a representative in one of these battles, was a sign of favor tantamount to the gift of Daemonhood, and it was not uncommon for the victor of such fights to be gifted with their Daemonic name from their pleased patron.
Today the Red and Pink moons that orbited the plain were each at their zeniths. The bitter rivals, Khorne the Blood God and Slaanesh the Prince of Pleasure had been called to choose their mortal champions in this duel that had been played out for eons. Just like in a game, the lesser god set his piece first.
Reality seemed to shift and a glowing slit ripped across the twisting air, it hung there suspended a few inches off the ground pulsing obscenely before widened to disgorge the Chosen Champion of Slannesh accompanied by a thousand demented screams of pleasure.
Stepping from the glowing portal with all the grace of a champion dancer the Champion of Slannesh blinked as his eyes adjusted to the harsh white light that beat down upon the plain. He had been in the middle of one of his unspeakable acts of debauchery when a dark and malevolent consciousness had invaded his thoughts and offered him the chance that few had every even dared to dream of, to fight in the name and presence of Slannesh him… or herself. He had welcomed it of course and then he was falling through the warp at a speed that whirled even his jaded senses.
Lucius the Eternal shifted his weight from foot to foot nimbly and flexed his arms to limber the muscles, every action done with a sensuousness that would have elicited disgust and desire in equal measure, the tormented faces subsumed on his armor writhed and flowed, their muted screams pleading for release. He spun his ornate saber in one hand deftly, testing its perfect balance, while whirling his hissing daemon lash around his body with the other. He felt their combines desire to tear into and defile the flesh of his opponent and the thought pleased him greatly. Now to await his worthy opponent, Lucius grinned in anticipation, his thin lips parting to reveal a wide row of perfect shark-like teeth, the deep latticework of scars creasing to create a maze out of his facial features.
No sooner had these thoughts formed in his head did his opponent did arrive. A blazing corona of crimson exploded several meters away from the eager chosen on Slaanesh in a welter of blood. With a deafening roar of rage, a tide of skulls spilt from the portal forming a ramp and somewhere deep within Lucius' heard the crunch of approaching footsteps as a hulking shape loomed out from the darkness. Silhouetted in red light the approaching figure was impossible to identify at first but as he neared two huge baroque antlers were the first impression of the foe that approach and Lucius' heart sank.
"A Worldeater?" Lucius sighed inwardly, "I would have expected more of a challenge from the Chosen of Khorne than a simple minded berserker." Why he had killed so many of them throughout his life that he barely had a modicum of respect for their abil-
Lucius' thoughts died and his breath caught with a thrill of anticipation as the hulking figure strode out onto the plain. This was no simple minded Berserker!
The first impression of Champion of Khorne's was an aura of barely controlled bloodlust, his armor also bore the ghostly imprint of trapped souls that roiled across its gore red surface, but where they begged for release in Lucius' case, these trapped souls seemed to scream for bloodshed. The power armor of one arm had been removed and revealed bulging muscles honed from millennia of near constant battle and a coil of barbed chain ending in a series of brutal hooks wrapped its length around his forearm. Screaming brass skulls embellished the Champion of Khorne's belt, greaves, the base of his helmet's huge brazen antlers and the vents of his back power plant, every rivet was crafted as a skull with the rune of Khorne pressed into it. At the base of his belt swung skulls attached to lengths of chain, trophies taken from defeated worthy foes. A hissing plasma pistol was holstered at the Champion's hip holster but it was his melee weapon that drew Lucius' attention. Clutched in Khornate Champion's unarmored hand was a monstrous chain axe and Lucius' warp sense felt a malign presence within it stir just as it sensed him. Abruptly the teeth on the chain axe began to whirl, its keening note sounding like a scream of hunger and it began to writhe in the Champions grip like a living thing. The Champion of Khorne's muscles bulged as he fought to keep the thirsting weapon under control.
Lucius had heard the stories of his rival, tales of the Bloody handed slaughterer of the Worldeaters, the saga of the Betrayer.
"Khârn," Lucius breathed.
The legendary Berserker shook his head to clear his warp-numbed senses, a blast of red mist escaping from his helmet's mouth grill as Khârn adjusted to his new surroundings. It had been the end of a great battle and he had been atop a mound of butchered warriors, nearly a hundred in all, all of who had fallen to him in personal combat. He had roared his frustration to the skies that there were no more to slay in the Blood God's name, when a voice had boomed in his head, telling him that he had been chosen of all the Blood God's warriors to fight in his name. Khârn readily accepted the offer; no greater boon could Khorne grant than the chance to spill blood in his presence and soon he too was thundering through the void on a carpet of bleached bones to the Plain of Chaos. Khârn rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side. Gorechild, his chain axe, twisted in his grip and he felt its essence keen to him, crying out for blood. 'You will be slaked soon enough,' Khârn reassured it silently. Then, as if for the first time, Khârn regarded his would be opponent, and recognition dawned on the Berserker,
"Lucius," Khârn growled.
For longs seconds they stared at each other, unmoving, even though every instinct told them to fight. Indeed there was a higher power holding them back, for Khorne and Slaanesh had not yet decided on what was to be wagered upon the outcome of this battle.
Lucius was the first to break the threatening silence,
"I heard that you led the attack that destroyed the Heart of Desire. That you were the only who walked out of the throne room alive?" His words sounding like honeyed poison.
"I did. The men I led were weak in their devotion to Khorne; they turned on me and their oaths to Khorne because of a few vain promises from your effete god. I sent them all to the base of the Skull throne to make their excuses to him personally." Khârn replied, his voice a threatening rumble.
Lucius' mouth twisted into one of his horrific smiles, "You ARE the betrayer," he said sarcastically, "Tell me, what made you do it? To smash one of the warps most beautiful creations, to destroy one of Slaanesh's most pleasing servants, you knew that its promises were true, that you could have had an eternity of… whatever your heart desired and yet you did it. Why?"
"Because it could not offer me anything more than what I already had!" Khârn bellowed, his volatile temper flaring. "I ask for battles eternal in the name of the Blood God, nothing more! And I have it!"
Lucius shook his head in mock disappointment and sighed, "All you Berserkers are the same, creativity is what you all lack."
"We shall see who lacks what when I am finished with you, weakling." Khârn snarled.
Lucius clapped slowly, "Very good come back."
Lucius was about to add more then a musical voice whispered as if into his ear, 'Lucius my darling, it is time. Finish this Neanderthal quickly.'
Khârn similarly stiffened as a deep rumbling voice bellowed in his thoughts, "Khârn, the time for battle has come. Death! Death! Blood for the Blood God!"
The gods had decided what was at stake and the champions were free of their enchantments, just as Lucius pupils dilated abnormally to heighten his senses in response to battle, Khârn's constricted to points till all he could see was the Slaaneshi Champion.
Kharn was the first to act, bellowing his blood chilling battle cry he launched himself at Lucius, swinging gorechild in a blinding fast overhead arc that would have clove a regular Space marine from helmet from pelvis. But Lucius had anticipated this move. Lucius jaws distended and he let out a high-pitched scream that blurred the fabric between reality and the warp and with fluid grace dodged out of the way at the last minute. This disorientation caused Khârn's attack to miss and the Berserker stumbled as the momentum of the attack carried him forward. Lucius spun neatly on his heel and flicked out his saber in a decapitating stroke but Khârn twisted beneath the blow and lashed out again with his shrieking chain axe in an upward swing aimed at Lucius' torso. However the Slaanesh Champion dived under Khârn's attack and rolled gracefully into a crouch, thrusting out with his blade again at Khârn's unguarded side.
Khârn saw the attack coming and swatted the blade aside with the return stroke of gorechild. Lucius' blade sparking as it scrapped across the haft of the deadly chain axe and Khârn twisted it as it caught under the head of his weapon, attempting to disarm Lucius. It didn't work. Instead of fighting the strength of Khârn who was obviously in an advantageous position, Lucius went with the momentum of the Berserker move even as it flipped him over, mid-flight he twisted his blade to dislodge it from gorechild before cart-wheeling away and landing neatly with his blade still in hand.
The initial trading of blows between Lucius and Khârn had occurred at a speed that would have been difficult for a human to follow, both combatants displaying strength, precision and agility that were far beyond any Imperial Space Marine.
More cautious now, Lucius and Khârn circled each other looking for a weakness in their opponent's stance and the right time to strike. Once again, it was Khârn who committed first to the attack. This time it was a disemboweling stroke at Lucius, once again Lucius saw it coming and stepped back at the last minute but Khârn had expected this reaction and instead of reversing his stroke he thundered inside Lucius' guard in a bull charge. Khârn shoulder guard connected with Lucius squarely in the chest and lifted the Champion of Slaanesh clean off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground throwing up cloud of dust.
Khârn snarled in contempt and pressed his advantage, raining heavy blow after blow upon Lucius and it was a testament to his skill that the Champion of Slaanesh managed to parry or dodge most of them, if only just. But Khârn would not be denied and feinted a strike to the left before bringing gorechild down on Lucius' undefended left shoulder. Lucius felt the huge chain axe tear through his shoulder guard and felt a flare of pain as it's cruel teeth tore through his armor and bit deep. But instead of cry out from the agony of the horrible damage, Lucius let out a ghastly moan of pleasure, reveling in the sensation, catching Khârn in the stomach with both legs and twisting free of the shrieking weapon just as the Worldeater leaned in seeking to shear off his opponent's arm, the momentum of the Berserker's attack flipped him over Lucius where he landed badly but still managed to roll into a fighting crouch. On his back, Lucius arched his body like a spring and leapt up his feet with impossible grace, and before Khârn could recover and charge back into the fray Lucius unleashed a barrage of strikes at the Khornate champion that would seemed to have been but a blur to the human eye. Khârn was not one of Khorne's most favored servants for nothing and Lucius found every blow expertly parried or avoided.
But Khârn's blood rage had blinded him and in his impatience to turn the direction of the blows in his favor he critically misread one of Lucius' fluid strikes, twisting away from the glittering arc and swung gorechild in an overhead swing that would have sheared the Slaaneshi champion's head clean off. However, Lucius had read this move in his foes body language and for the briefest moment when Khârn's guard was down, he struck. Spinning under the stroke, Lucius threw himself to the left, whirling his saber over his head before slicing it into Khârn's side, armor and flesh parting effortlessly from it's razor-keen edge, dark blood spurting out and flowing down his flank. Khârn roared in pain and instinctively lashed out with his mailed fist but Lucius had already backed away out of his reach. Both sides had drawn first blood.
The deep cut in Khârn's side had already begun to clot and heal and he noticed with grim satisfaction that the wound that he has inflicted on Lucius showed much less re-growth. The bite of gorechild was fearsome indeed and even the enhanced healing of a Space marine would be hard pressed to knit together the ragged wounds left by its great mica-dragon teeth but if the Slaaneshi champion felt any kind of pain at all he did a superb job at covering it up, even picking at it with a look of dreamy fascination. 'No doubt the Slaanesh cur was enjoying the pain', he thought sourly to himself as he launched himself once again at Lucius with a roar of rage. But this time, an attack on Khârn came from an entirely different quarter. Lucius' writhing barbed whip whirled above the champion of Slaanesh's head before lashing across Khârn's body, instantly doubling up the Champion of Khorne with a barrage of raw sensation, a bellow of agony ripping from his throat. Falling to one knee, Khârn shook his head violently attempting to clear his swimming vision from the effects of the cursed lash. He remembered the daemon lashes used by the priestesses in the palace of the Heart of Desire and how their whips paled in comparison to the mind destroying effectiveness of the weapon that Lucius bore.
Before he could gather his strength to recover a fighting stance, Lucius' whip lashed out again wrapping around the Khornate champions throat, its barded ends biting deep through the flexibly joints and embedding into his flesh. Khârn howled as another tidal wave of sensation rampaged through every nerve end of his being, his fingers scrabbling vainly at the sickly warm coils of the lash that were constricting his windpipe.
Lucius saw his chance with his foe blinded by the effects of his lash. He moved with the fluid grace of a dancer as he spun towards Khârn, the lash twisting around his body as he drew closer to his helpless enemy his other hand whirling the great scimitar in preparation for the decapitating blow.
He was three heartbeats away from Khârn, already his martial sense was planning the direction of the strike. It was obvious that the Khornate champion was rendered insensible from the attack but he would take no risk.
Two heartbeats, his concentration for the blow was absolute, he had already judged all of his enemies possible reactions. Already he knew that there was no way that Khârn could dodge the blow or fend it off, he would be victorious!
One heartbeat, the spinning of his blade stopped in the perfect position for that one sublime strike. He saw Khârn look up and see that his death stalked near, the ancient Berserker snarled with defiance as Lucius' stroke fell, aimed exactly where the coils of the lash parted exposing Khârn's throat. Lucius felt the great spectators of this battle lean close, one with triumph and one with bitter disappointment. The battle was as good as over.
Lucius struck…
If Lucius had thought that Khârn would simply have sat there like a dumb animal to be slaughtered he has severely underestimated the Khornate champion's tenacity. Roaring with agony, Khârn launched his protesting body at Lucius, every nerve stretching to breaking point to resist the paralyzing effect of the whip still pulsing around his throat and lashed out with all his desperate strength.
Khârn watched as Lucius' serpentine eyes widened in surprise of this unexpected reaction before Khârn's mailed fist, a blurring crimson arc, contacting squarely in Lucius' midriff and lifting the Slaaneshi champion into the air, his killing blow shearing just above Khârn's helmet. Instantly the coils around Khârn's throat loosened as Lucius' concentration broke, allowing his scrambled sense to stabilize. Khârn reacted instinctively, catching Lucius in the chest with the flat of his palm and thundering the Champion of Slaanesh down onto the hard packed earth with teeth loosening force.
Khârn exploited his advantage and brought gorechild down in an executioner's blow at the stunned Lucius. But the Champion of Slaanesh managed to roll aside just in time, his keen survival instinct denying Khârn his killing blow.
Lucius rolled to his feet effortlessly and rapidly backed away from Khârn, no doubt considering his next move. Khârn did not give him the chance to, pressing his advantage, the Exalted Berserker thundered towards the Scion of Slaanesh again. But Lucius was prepared for this and his high-pitched scream rang across the blasted plain again, the air blurring around the charging Berserker but Lucius, in his arrogance, had believed that the same trick would work twice with Khârn. It didn't.
Khârn had already read the warping effects of the scream the first time the Champion of Slaanesh had used it and knew precisely where Lucius was standing despite reality seeming to bend around him. Grasping gorechild with two hands, he hammered its head like a battering ram into Lucius stomach doubling him up, driving the breath from his lungs, and instantly silencing the horrible scream. Reversing his grip, Khârn swung a mighty underarm blow at the bent over Champion of Slaanesh that would have clove his skull in two. But Lucius wasn't there anymore, bending over backwards so that the whirling teeth of the screaming chain axe missed his chin by mere centimeters he back flipped neatly, landed on his side and in one fluid motion, kicked Khârn's legs out from under him.
Bellowing with frustration Khârn fell heavily and Lucius sprang onto the Berserker like a cat, hammering the pommel of his saber into the side of Champion of Khorne's helmet again and again before reversing it and plunging it, two handed, downwards. Khârn tried to swat the blade aside with his free hand but Lucius would not be denied and thought its point did not stab into Khârn's heart as he had intended, the blade impaled Khârn's shoulder causing him to cry out in pain.
In a fluid motion Lucius twisted the blade and pulled it free and again brought it down and attempted to stab down into Khârn's faceplate. But in that instant Khârn reached for his hip holster, drew his hissing plasma pistol and, with a perfect economy of movement, fired.
Lucius twisted away from the roiling ball of incandescent energy but it was too late, the blast catching him in his wounded shoulder and burning its way through his armor effortlessly, Lucius felt his exposed skin char and hissed in pain as he was knocked off Khârn from the force of the shot. Rolling away desperately and springing into a fighting crouch his shoulder plate cratered as the last of the hissing plasma died away, exposing more blackened skin beneath, he watched as Khârn rose to his feet, blood pouring from the grave wound in his shoulder.
"You are a worthy foe." Lucius said, wincing from the pain.
"You fight well for a girl." Khârn replied mockingly.
And once again, the two champions of the Chaos Gods charged to meet each other.
Bloody-minded fury was pitted against sublime grace; fluid perfection sparred with mad aggression. Each strike was parried, each attack was countered and the two combatants traded blows for hours, the advantage changing hands dozens of times but neither being able to press it home to the kill, the furious seesaw battle continuing on until the moons began to dip over the edge of the plain. The mandatory length of battle had come to a close and both Khârn and Lucius froze in mid-strike as unseen forces pulled them back out of reach. Both combatants still lived and neither side could claim superiority, thus a draw had to be declared.
They had failed to achieve their patron god's agenda, but Khârn and Lucius had given them a great show of martial prowess and the Gods were pleased with this display. Both champions felt the favor of their respective gods flow through them, knitting together the score of grievous wounds that one had done to the other. Lucius saw the horrible damage to his shoulder guard slowly seal shut, its surface glossy again like the damage had never occurred and before his eyes Khârn seemed to swell, the exposed muscle of his arm bulging as the Blood God augmented his champions already formidable strength.
Even as the portals ripped open behind them to bear them back to their realms, both Champions eyed each other grudgingly, neither entirely willing to abandon the fight. This time is was Khârn, who spoke first.
"I look forward to meeting you again, Lucius of the Emperor's Children, and finishing what we started!" He growled, shaking gorechild threateningly at Lucius.
"As do I, Khârn of the Worldeaters. No time limits next time, yes?" smiled Lucius indulgingly, raising his saber in a mock salute.
Then without a backward glance, both champions left the Plain of Chaos with the fervent hope that, the Gods of Chaos willing, they would meet each other again soon.
