January 16th, outside Erengrad, in the Grolwald Forest, Slaanesh Champion Sticka's Camp.
Sticka, the son of the chieftain of the Norse tribe Sertilels, was born with the possession of Slaanesh Greater Daemon Shzhu. This made him grow into a charming and handsome young leader. His first raid on the Old World's coast was a massive success.
His father, feeling insulted and jealous of his son's achievements, was assassinated by Sticka during a feast celebrating one of their victories. Sticka's soul then fused with Shzhu, and he rose as the new chieftain of the Sertilels tribe. After sacrifices at Slaanesh's altar, he gained jade-like skin, an exquisitely crafted Chaos armor, and a serpent-shaped steel sword.
Typically, such a fusion with a Slaanesh daemon would grant tremendous power, enough to make Sticka famous across the world. However, this fusion instead combined both parties' unrestrained desires. Sticka became a hedonistic degenerate, eager to celebrate even the smallest victory. This behavior caused him to miss numerous battles and frequently ignore orders, much to the frustration of Archaon, who relegated him and his forces to serve under Aesling.
After a prolonged siege, Sticka grew bored and irritable in the cold weather, frequently cursing at the monotony of the snow-covered forest. By dawn on January 16th, while the Bretonnian army under Karad and Bodric was breaking through his outer defenses, Sticka was dancing naked around a bonfire with a group of Slaanesh warriors.
"I can indulge you, or I can replace you!" Sticka, clad only in a loincloth, flaunted his jade-like skin before the fire, twisting his body in an oddly captivating dance while his followers sang loudly.
His bizarre but fluid movements mesmerized the crowd as they chanted:
"I swing with you, swing to the highest sky,
Gazing at Khorne and Khaine meeting by the river of blood,
We hold hands, fantasizing about the Claw Coast,
Sailing together to the shores of love.
Hand in hand, we arrive at the Fortress of Lust,
Skulls worn as flowers in our hair.
Flying high over the Chaos Wastes,
Together, we soar beyond the edge of the world."
As the Slaanesh cultists partied around the bonfire, they were oblivious to their impending doom.
Suddenly, the sky lit up with volleys of rockets. Many were blocked by the forest, but a significant number struck the camp directly. Explosions ripped through the Norse encampment, tearing apart Slaanesh icons and reducing the inhabitants to fragments.
The Norsemen were momentarily stunned, unable to comprehend what had happened. However, the Bretonnians gave them no time to recover. Emerging from the snowy pine forest, the Bretonnian forces advanced rapidly.
Elite infantry formed tight ranks, marching forward despite the harsh cold that quickly drained their stamina. The Norse warriors, caught off guard, were slaughtered en masse. Chieftains' desperate calls to regroup came too late as their clanspeople fell to sharp blades, muskets, and crossbows.
Some Norse attempted to rally, brandishing axes and flails while shouting curses to steel their courage.
The Bretonnian knights showed no mercy. Duke Bodric and Marquis Tulas, alongside Karad himself, led a devastating cavalry charge. Blessed by the Lady of the Lake, Karad radiated divine light that weakened the Chaos blessings of the barbarians. Wherever the knights rode, they left trails of destruction in the disoriented Norse camp.
After one charge, Karad ordered the knights to dismount to conserve their horses' stamina. Blaring horns echoed through the forest, signaling the arrival of additional assault forces. The disorganized Norse could hardly resist.
Karad, adorned in a dazzlingly ornate robe and armor polished with reflective oils gifted by the Ursun Church, made himself a conspicuous target. Norse warriors, distracted by his radiant presence, pursued him relentlessly, only to be met with death.
As Bretonnian and allied forces overwhelmed the camp, Sticka was found wandering amidst the chaos, clad in only his loincloth, frantically searching for his pants and weapons.
"Where are my pants?!" he screamed.
Before he could retrieve anything, Ugol cavalry led by Belia arrived. These soldiers, hardened by the cold, showed no mercy. Their curved blades sliced through Norse warriors, bringing swift vengeance. Spotting Sticka, nearly naked with his hair in a topknot, Belia instinctively fired a shot.
"Aah! I've been hit! It feels... amazing!" Sticka clutched his bleeding stomach, shrieking in ecstasy.
"Stop reveling! Where's your weapon?" a high-ranking Slaanesh warrior demanded.
"I don't know!" Sticka wailed as his bodyguards dragged him off the battlefield. His forces, nearly 10,000 strong, suffered a catastrophic defeat, losing over 6,000 warriors.
Karad ordered no pursuit but instead directed his troops to regroup and prepare for the next engagement.
Farther east, the dwarves of Eight Peaks' "Little Beard Vengeance Squad" had engaged Aesling's central forces. Their initial surprise attack devastated several Norse encampments. Aesling, still groggy from his hangover, was stunned to learn that just over a thousand dwarves had dared to leave their strongholds to confront him.
"They're attacking us in the open? Abandoning their fortresses? Have I lived to see the day?" Aesling muttered in disbelief, ordering his forces to repel the dwarves.
Meanwhile, Karad's Bretonnian forces arrived to flank Aesling's army. The knights launched a swift charge, smashing through hastily formed Norse defenses. Elite infantry followed, shouting battle cries in the Lady's name as they pressed the attack.
Though the Norse tried to rally, they could not withstand the coordinated assault. As the battle dragged on, however, Bretonnian forces began to tire, their earlier momentum waning under the harsh conditions.
Just as Aesling prepared to send his elite forces to counterattack, a thunderous war cry echoed from the forest:
"Ura! Ura! Uraaaa!"
Kislevite reinforcements, led by Rokossovsky and Kuznetsov, arrived. Having defeated Khorne's chosen, Skarl Bloodrage, they now joined the fray. The sight of Kislev's bear riders, winged lancers, and Red Navy filled Bretonnian ranks with renewed vigor while demoralizing the Norse.
Facing overwhelming pressure, Aesling himself entered the fray atop his Chaos-steel bull, carving through enemies with his rune-forged weapons. But his efforts were futile. A golden flame-clad knight appeared before him—Karad.
The two champions locked eyes, their armies clashing around them. The decisive duel began amidst the chaos.
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