The Warriors of Chaos II: The End Times

by The Warmaster

Chapter Five: Battle for the Griffish Isle, Part Two

Griffish Isle Beach, the next day

”Come, my minions! Let us bring ruin to the Griffish Isle, and claim what is rightfully mine!” Archaon roared, and his army cheered, before running into the forest with a unholy lust for slaughter. Archaon glanced at the trees, feeling something was off. Shrugging, the Everchosen walked past the beach and entered the forest, a trail of ruined and burning ground left in his wake. A group of heavily armored Chaos Ponies accompanied him, forming his Guard.

---

Ten Minutes Later

“Lord Archaon, there is something off with the forest.” The Sorcerer said, appearing next to Archaon out of the shadows. “I can sense the inklings of Chaos Magic inside the trees, and an even greater magical being just beyond.”

“It is likely the effect of the Armor of Morkar, Sorcerer.” Archaon growled, continuing his march across the forest.

“Perhaps, my Lord.” The Sorcerer agreed, until the silence that filled the forest was broken by screams. The screams of Archaon’s soldiers, for no creature not touched by the Immaterium could make such a noise. When Archaon and the Sorcerer arrived at the scene, they found the corpses of thirty Chaos Ponies, impaled upon trees around the clearing. Blood trickled down the branches, dripping onto the ground below and making eight puddles. Their mouths were open in now silent agony, the ponies now dead. The soulless eyes stared at Archaon, almost judgmentally. However, Archaon had no fucks to give, so it did not disturb him all too much.

Archaon drew his sword, flames flickering across its possessed blade. Before Archaon could blink, arrows shot out of the trees, only to be blocked by a shield of flames created by the Sorcerer, the arrows burning into ash the second they touched the flaming wall.

Griffons poured out of the trees, charging towards Archaon, only to be met by a wall of Archaon’s Chosen, talons being introduced-and rejected- by the cold steel of the Chosen’s armor.

“For the Blood God!” One yelled, a sword encased in a red glow falling upon a Griffon’s head, slicing it in two. Archaon himself jumped into the fray, The Slayer of Kings ripping apart the unlucky Griffon below him, blood being denied its freedom as the flames instantly cauterized the wound.

”You call yourselves warriors?!” Archaon taunted, smashing his shield into a griffon charging at him, the poor soul’s beak breaking as soon as it rammed full force into the shield. ”Even the ponies fight better than you! Give me a challenge! Give me something to enjoy!”

“Die, you filth!” A griffon with a large axe roared, smashing it into a Chosen, the axe crushing his armor, and the warrior inside. The griffon was massive, larger than any other griffon Archaon had encountered, with muscles rippling underneath his fur. Two massive wings sat on his back, while two predatory eyes gleamed from his face above his moustache, looking at Archaon with uncontrolled hate. He stepped forward, dragging the massive weapon behind him.

Archaon accepted his obvious challenge, raising his shield in front of him. Holding his sword above his head, he charged forward, preparing to deliver a quick slash down the brute’s side. Before he could, however, his back was suddenly to a tree, his shield a ruined mess where the axe had smashed into it, nearly cutting it in two. Archaon discarded the now useless shield, before jumping out of the way as he saw the griffon attempting to barrel straight into him. The musclebound griffon broke through the tree, coming to a stop as he turned to look back at Archaon.

“So, monster, you can do more than run head on into your enemy? I gave you too little credit.” The griffon growled, and Archaon then noticed some pointless sparkles around the Griffon. He disregarded them immediately.

”And I see that your pathetic species can scrounge up some somewhat strong fighters. Let's see how capable you are!” Archaon growled, putting his blade in between him and the griffon. ”May I have the satisfaction of knowing your name, griffon? I might just remember you later.”

“I am the Grimstone Wingstrong, Major of the Griffish Isle Guard, and head of the Wingstrong Family!” The Griffon proclaimed proudly, for some reason flexing his muscles. Archaon rolled his eyes, before sensing a sudden hunger from the Slayer of Kings.

”I am Archaon, Everchosen of Chaos, and He who wields the Slayer of Kings. I am assuming you are of some noble family?” Archaon replied, putting the Slayer of Kings in front of him in a form of salute.

“Indeed I am! My family has been of nobility since the beginning of the Griffon Empire!” Wingstrong declared proudly.

”Good.” Archaon chuckled, the Slayer of Kings now almost screaming in his mind for the blood of this griffon. ”I expect a good fight from you, Wingstrong! Prove to me that your species is not as inept as the previous examples have shown to me!” Archaon roared, charging Wingstrong head on.

“I will make sure that I do!” Wingstrong replied, getting into a battle stance. The iron grip of Wingstrong’s claws wrapped around Archaon’s shoulders, crushing the armor as the incredibly buff Griffon tossed the Everchosen over him, smashing Archaon into the ground behind him.

The Everchosen quickly got up, slashing at Wingstrong’s back, only for the griffon to jump into the air, and out of the way of the deadly blade.

“You will have to try harder than that, Archaon!” Wingstrong taunted, dodging out of the way of the fireball flung at him. Rushing back down, he piledrived into Archaon’s midsection, taking him airborne as Wingstrong smashed him through the trees, away from the battle. When they were far enough away from the fight, Wingstrong released the Everchosen, letting him crash into the dirt, before sliding to a stop.

“This is the best your Gods can provide?” Wingstrong asked, a tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I'm sorry to say so, but you can never best me!”

Archaon rose slowly, black blood leaking out of the cracks in his armor.
”I….am the Everchosen of Chaos….” He growled, struggling to his feet. ”I...will not be defeated...by the likes of you!” He stumbled forward, before throwing the Slayer of Kings at the griffon. He simply moved his head to the side, allowing the blade to pass by his head.

“Sorry to say, but it appears you are all out of power. Your armies will be defeated, and your reign of Terror will end here. Any last words?”

”I'll see you in hell, bastard!” Archaon spat. Wingstrong shook his head sadly.

“I'm sorry, but that's not what's going to-” He began, but was interrupted when a blade burst through his chest. “Wha…?” He turned his head to find the Sorcerer behind him, the magic of the Sorcerer holding the Slayer of Kings aloft as it sank deeper into Wingstrong’s back.

“Unfortunately, Wingstrong, it will not be you who kills the Everchosen.” The Sorcerer cackled, removing the blade as the Major of the Griffon forces fell into the ground, dead. Archaon marched towards the Sorcerer, eyes locked onto the corpse of Grimstone.

“No, if anyone will kill the Everchosen, it will be me!” He cackled, before Archaon ripped the blade out of his magic, and separated his head from his body, ending the traitorous Sorcerer’s life in an instant. Blood spewed from the stump, drenching the fool’s cloak in blood as the body fell to the ground, soaking the grass in his blood. Archaon crushed the head under his boot, splattering the ground with brain Matter, bits of his skull, and blood.

”He was to be my kill, not yours, Sorcerer. You were not worthy of killing such a foe, let alone wielding the Slayer of Kings to do so.” Archaon growled, returning the Slayer of Kings to it’s sheath, where it purred with anger at being touched by that Sorcerer’s magic. ”I can sense a power here….” He glanced around, noticing the large, ruined building, with trees and vines growing out of it. The Everchosen could sense a familiar power deep inside, and he marched towards it, his wounds beginning to heal under his armor.

He broke through the foliage covering the entrance, stepping through and gazing around the ruined building, which he recognized as once being a castle. He marched towards the throne room, sensing the power directly below him.

”The Dark Gods must have blessed me, for that foolish Griffon Wingstrong brought me right to where I wanted to be…” Archaon growled, destroying the already damaged throne with a fireball. When the rubble and dust cleared, a spiral staircase revealed itself, leading down into the shadows below. Archaon, unfazed, stomped down the stairs, his eyes glowing with determination.

After thirty minutes of walking, Archaon arrived at the bottom, and looked around. From what little he could see, he was in a massive chamber, smothered in darkness like a cold hug. Archaon grabbed a torch from one of the walls, before lighting it with his magic. The flame was instantly snuffed out, the shadows themselves seeming to hungrily eat the flames. Archaon tossed the torch away, before drawing his sword and marching forward, stepping into a large pool of water, which covered the floor of the massive chamber.

Archaon continued his walk through the darkness, whispers and voices calling out to him from the darkness. He ignored them, eyes sweeping across the shadows in front of him. He stopped suddenly, using his ears to hear the sound of another being walking through the water, seemingly towards him. He continued at his original pace, the sound of other feet swishing through the water getting closer and closer. When Archaon felt like there was something in front of him, he slashed out with the Slayer of Kings, fire igniting briefly to reveal a figure dodging his strike.

He only caught a glimpse, but he still got enough information. Black armor, with a large axe gripped in its hand. Grinning underneath his mask, he roared out into the shadows a challenge.

”Morkar! First of the Everchosen! I know your spirit still haunts thy Armor, but I am here to take it! I am Archaon, the Fifth Everchosen of Chaos, and the Bringer of the End Times! You, Morkar, are long dead! Surrender thy armor to me, so that I may bring the destruction the Dark Gods desire!” Archaon raised his blade, the Slayer of Kings burning brightly, vanishing the shadows around them.

The massive axe of Morkar came flying down, and Archaon narrowly avoided it, leaping out of the way as it smashed into the solid stone floor, smashing it into pieces.

”Everchosen...prove thy worth to me, he who claims to be Everchosen. Show me thy are worthy of leading the Armies of Chaos...as I did so long ago!” The voice of Morkar replied, sounding far away and distorted. A face appeared within the helmet, old and disfigured. Two black eyes pierced into Archaon, searching through his soul.

Archaon wasted no time, charging straight towards the Haunted Armor, leaping out of the way of Morkar’s strike, before slashing into the side of the First Everchosen. It had no effect, and the Slayer of Kings bounced off the unholy armor. Archaon jumped back, narrowly avoiding a swing from Morkar’s axe that would have cut him in two.

”You, who haunts your armor like a child refusing to relent their toy! You may have been the First Everchosen, but you're nothing compared to me!” Archaon growled, unleashing a large fireball straight into the approaching armor. The tall figure was engulfed in flames, and Archaon grinned. Until an armored hand flew through the fire and latched onto his throat.

”You believe such paltry magic can defeat me, who fought Sigmar?!” The armored ghost growled, tossing Archaon through a pillar. ”You are nothing compared to him, a speck on my foot. What makes you think you are worthy to lead the Legions of Chaos?”

”I know my fate! My fate is to bring ruin to this world! The Gods themselves have decreed it!” Archaon growled, slashing at Morkar as he approached. ”You are a forgotten relic, the remains of a great Champion of Chaos! But I will do better! I will succeed where you failed! I will bring the Chaos to this world, and bring about the End Times! I am Archaon, and something so pitiful as a ghost refusing to let go of his armor will never defeat me!” He charged forward, crying out in a language he himself didn't know.

Morkar paused, almost recoiling from the words as Archaon’s blade slipped into a softer spot in the armor, unleashing its Daemonic power. The spirit of Morkar flickered, before slumping over Archaon.

”Y-you...you, who is the Bringer of the End Times….” He coughed, flickering in and out of existence. ”You have shown me the truth of the Dark Gods….I accept you as the Everchosen...wield my armor with the fury of Khorne himself!” the ghost dissipated, and the armor collapsed to the ground, empty. Archaon glared down at the armor.

”Don't tell me what to do, old timer.” He growled, taking the armor for himself.

Author's Note:

And now Archaon has the Armor of Morkar! Now he has plot armor tougher than everything except Sigmar and above!
Hahaah, in all seriousness, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I left a few references around here and there, can you find them?

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And, if you enjoy my writings and wish to see more, check out my other stories!

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Comments

[Titan Commander Sebaste]

Uh oh, attack of the bold type, the sequel!

[The Warmaster]

7670649 OH FOR FUCKS SAKE

Fixed

[Der Kaiser]

However, Archaon had no fucks to give, so it did not disturb him all too much awesome.

[Der Kaiser]

as for the plot armor, unless grimgor sneaks up and kicks him in the balls he should be fine.