Blackheart glanced up and saw the unmistakable sight of an angry Beastlord tromping his way through camp.

"You summon me as a dog, Northman!?!" raged the Beastlord. "Should I crush your skull with hand or hoof?" Snorted Rothgar, his rage at being summoned from his feast apparent.

Blackheart was not impressed though, he had seen Lords of Khorne in the same frenzied state. He did not fear rage for he knew the Great Schemer had a plan. "Sooth your rage, Beastlord. I do not summon you, I invite you. And here I hold a gift for you. A great and powerful witch of the south men. Feast upon her flesh and gain her powers." Blackheart looked as honest as a Sigmarite priest preaching the word of his false god. How he marveled at himself, how well he had taken the Great Schemer's lessons to heart. Manipulate those you mean to use and they will butcher the world for you.

Rothgar snorted, he looked upon the Bretonnian witch on her knees beside Blackheart and approached her. In one quick move he grabbed her by the hair, lifted her and sank his teeth deep into her throat. His jaw so powerful it crushed through bone and flesh, her headless body fell into a bloody heap. The Beastlord was pleased, for now.

"We march for the wood at first light, make sure your Beasts are prepared." Blackheart gazed at the Beastlord devouring the remains of the Bretonnian witch, he felt a great peace that her wickedness would harm no other. The Beastlord raised his head and growled at the Chaos Lord. "We will march for the wood at first light, Northman. Your gift is satisfactory." The words were garbled as gore shot forth from Rothgar's mouth, he enjoyed his meal greatly.

The rising sun shone a light over the massive horde. Thousands of Gor and Bestigor began moving in motley fashion. The Warriors marched silently in tight formation. Four days they marched, defiling the land as they moved across it, slaughtering anyone they came upon.

On the fifth day the horde came upon a great clearing. Rothgar and Blackheart had taken to walking near to one another. They shared a common bond as they told stories of slaughter and valor. As Blackheart boasted to Rothgar of destroying a temple of Sigmar one of Rothgar's lieutenants ran up. "MY Lord, no scouts have returned since last night." Rothgar sneared, "Finally ..."

Both Lords knew what no returning scouts meant, the Bretonnians were close and that suited both Lords well. Rothgar would get his battle and Blackheart would get his diversion, he would slip into the woods and find the Enchanted Spring. There he would sacrifice a life to destroy the wicked influence of the elves and create a well spring for Chaos in the south.

"We should prepare our forces, we ..." Blackheart was interrupted by the sounds of horns. "Already? So soon?" he thought.

"Prepare yourselves!" bellowed Rothgar, he leapt off towards the front of the host paying no mind to Blackheart. He was already gripped by the frenzy of battle, only blood mattered now. Blackheart turned to his men "We must make haste to the wood, the Enchanted Spring is close. Remember, the Great One has bigger plans for us than just slaughter."

Blackheart stood upon a small hill and looked out upon the host that stood between him and his destiny. A great force of Bretonnian knights, archers, infantry and bowmen. He spied Rothgar moving forward flanked on his left and right by his Bestigors. To their left and right were hordes of Gors, axes and blades thirsty for blood. A massive boulder soared through the air and crashed down upon the left flank, crushing and scattering hundreds of Gors. "Blasted cowards and their rock throwers" thought Blackheart. He made his way around the Beastmen hord with only a small personal guard, the rest of his men he sent forth with the Beasts.

A volley of arrows flew forth but were nothing more than gnats to Rothgar and his Bestigors. He had seen the boulder fly over head but took little note of it. The blood and glory lay straight ahead, he and his Bestigors rushed forward with an ungodly roar. He could smell the fear of the little men. "Peasants, they send peasants to fight me!" he thought. He charged head long into a unit of men at arms, the peasants were slaughtered. Rothgar's axe cleaved their captain in half. He rushed forward smashing the skull of another man with his horns. "Forward! Man flesh! Forward!" he bellowed. The frenzy had taken him. He raged forward into the trembling mass of Brettonian infantry, slaughtering and butchering as he pleased.

Blackheart and his guard of ten Warriors entered the forest unseen. "It is close, I can smell it. Forward, move!" The Warriors rushed forward into the forest and found what they were looking for. Blackheart roared in approval. "This is it!" He had found the Enchanted Spring. "What now my Lord? How do we please the Great God?" asked his Captain. Blackheart began to laugh a deep and guttural laugh. "With blood, of course." He spun round as quick as lightning, his great axe cleaving his captain in half. His guard of Warriors had no time to react, he was upon them in furious rage. Before long the ground lay littered with the dead. He hacked them to pieces, pouring their blood and gore into the spring whilst laughing maniacally. "For you my god! For you!"

The blood ran so thick that the Enchanted Spring turned black. Blackheart took off his helment and scratched at the new horn on his head. Pain gripped him, the horn burst forth out of his skull. His left arm shot out into a massive tentacle, his armor burst open as a gnashing maw emerged from his chest. He roared in pain and agony. His right foot split into three and a second head burst forth screaming in agony from his right shoulder. He fell to the ground ... the rewards of Tzeentch received.