The Trials of Lord No'ki, Lord of the Umbar Nomads

[Archon No'ki]

Heres a couple of pieces of fluff that I wrote for my Chaos Champion in a Path to Glory Campaign that I was involved in a while back, enjoy.

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No’ki, Lord of the Umbar Nomads, stood upon a high ridge, on the back of his stead, looking down onto the plain of battle. He could see his whole tribe down there, fighting with the followers of a rival lord. It was going quite well, his tribe had the numbers and where massacring the rival tribe. His Sorcerer, Malak, rode next to him surrounded by No’ki’s finest horsemen. With a crack Malak sent another blast of magic down into the enemy sending bodies flying everywhere. The day was almost won; it was time for No’ki to finish this. He lifted his sword high in the air and then charged straight down the hill into battle, with his horsemen close behind him.

No’ki’s charge landed home right on the flank of one of the larger units of marauders, crushing them under the hooves of his stead. After that, it was just a case of mopping up what was left of the enemy tribe. But then there was a terrible cry, and as No’ki looked up he saw dozens of daemons, the servants of Khorne. 'No, not now, not when he was so close to victory!' If this was the way it was supposed to end so be it, but he wouldn’t die without a fight. With that, he dismounted and drew his daemon blade.

These daemons, they didn’t care who they killed, just as long as they killed. No’ki charged at them and with every swing of his daemon blade slew another of those abominations. No’ki himself was an expert swordsman, but with the added bonus of the spirit of the daemonette trapped in his sword guiding his hand, no one could come near him. Soon he stood atop a pile of bodies, with the few surviving members of his tribe around him, but he was tiring out, these daemons never stopped coming.

Just as No’ki had given up hope of making it through this day alive, he saw many new figures just off of the battle. They charged into the back of the daemons, crushing many of them. A mighty banner was held among these new comers; No’ki didn’t recognise it, but he could see whoever it belonged to worshiped the same patron as he: Slaanesh. The newcomers cut their way forward, towards where No’ki was making his last stand. They slaughtered all who stood between them and No’ki, daemon or marauder they were all killed.

Eventually the leader of these newcomers and No’ki stood face-to-face, all of the daemons were dead, and but a hand full of marauders from the Umbar Nomads were left alive. The leader of the new comers spoke, “Lord No’ki, of the Umbar Nomads? I am Slaanthos the Dark, Chieftain of the Slaalig. I have been watching you and your tribe for quite some time now, and I wish to make you an offer.” No’ki glared up at Slaanthos and asked, “What could you possible offer me? I was supposed to die on these fields this day and you have taken away that honour.” Slaanthos quickly replied, “Why, I can offer you a chance to save your tribe and to restore your honour. I wish you to join me. I wish you to be my chosen champion. You see; a large tribe has collapsed and left a power vacuum. I want that land No’ki and I can see you do also. So join me and together we will bring that land to the tribe of Slaalig and praise to Slaanesh.” No’ki turned his face down in thought, then his eyes flashed, and he brought his gaze up to meet Slaanthos’. “I will fight for you under two conditions; that you will help restore my tribe to its former glory and that you will return my land to me.” “I am sure I can do this for you, you have my word on this No’ki. Now all that is left to do is for you to swear alliance to me and to the Slaalig.” No’ki knelt down on one knee, “I, Lord No’ki, of the Umbar Nomads, swear that I and my tribe will serve Slaanthos the Dark, Chieftain of the Slaalig.” No’ki rose and Slaanthos spoke once more, “I welcome you to the Slaalig tribe, No’ki Champion of Slaalig.” Then No’ki climbed onto the horse next to Slaanthos’ and the warriors of rode off.

[Archon No'ki]

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No’ki rode through the streets, burning buildings on either side of him. He swung with his daemon blade, decapitating a fleeing woman. He loved it, complete chaos. Serving under Slaanthos was not that bad, he had given No’ki more men and told him to go and pillage in the name of Slaalig. With another swing another body fell to the floor. That sound of screams of pain, it filled No’ki’s head and filled him with fury. He charged a group of villagers, killing all of them; either under the hooves of his steed, or by his swinging blade. He carried on down the path between the huts, charging at full speed, killing all who stood before him. But then out from one the huts came a marauder with a pike. No’ki had no chance to react and the pike stuck him square in the chest, throwing him from the saddle.

No’ki quickly picked himself off the floor. That blow had dazed him, but other than that he was fine. The marauder with the pike was still standing, no, he was charging! With a flash of his blade, No’ki removed the blade from the pike. The Marauder stared at the end of his weapon in horror. Then with a flick of his sword No’ki had opened the marauders belly, leaving his entrails open to the sun. Another group of marauders charged No’ki, determined to bring down such a mighty warrior. They were no match for No’ki; he bobbed and weaved around their blows. With each attack made by a marauder that missed No’ki slew one of the others. More and more marauders poured into the fray. They had finally mounted a defence. No’ki liked the odds against him, 30 marauders against one. He slew three marauders with each swing of his blade, but immediately there were another six to take their place. No’ki felt a sudden surge of pain; but he, he enjoyed it. He swung around and drove his blade into the chest of the marauder that had wounded him. Each drop of his own blood that fell, each surge of pain, they all fuelled him. Soon his blade was nothing but a blur and countless bodies fell. Truely Slaanesh had blessed him this day.

Soon he was surrounded by the bodies of his fallen foes. He did not know how many he had killed, it had all been a blur of pain and of pleasure in equal measures. Then No’ki noticed another combat near by. It was the leader of these foul peasants, finally a challenge. No’ki charged forward, ordering his warriors to leave the champion, he was No’ki’s. The enemy champion raised his hand in a challenge to No’ki. Both men charged forward, their blades meeting just in front of each other’s faces. No’ki swung again, this time low but the enemy champion dodged the blow and in return swung his axe at No’ki’s head barely missing his long grey hair. The mêlée grew fiercer, and then with one blow the enemy brought his axe down onto No’ki’s blade, shattering it into exactly six pieces. The spirit of the daemonette within the blade was freed. No’ki felt an icy cold touch on his hand; which then grew and moved up along his arm, and then into the rest of his body. Finally he began to convulse as his mind fought the daemon that had entered it. Everyone stood back from the writhing No’ki, unsure what was happening. Then suddenly No’ki stood there, a glint in his eyes. He charged the champion, dodging his blow and in one movement snapped the champion’s neck. It was clear who had won the battle on the plain, but no one was sure who had won the battle in No’ki’s mind.