Warriors of the Raven God, your hour has come! Go now, and show these soft men of the south the true meaning of fear!
Chieftain Skurlorg watched as his warriors charged down the hill. Behind him, the Hellcannons boomed, spewing Daemonic fire that arced down into the village below. The coward soldiers of the Empire fled in terror. The unlucky souls caught in the blast screamed as they burst into flames.
Behind the Chieftain, the Chaos Portal flickered and swirled, making an eerie, unearthly sound. A band of warriors emerged, then approached Skurlorg.
"We come to slay the enemies of the Raven God, Chieftain! Where is the battle?" said one of the Northmen.
Skurlorg sized up the group. They were strong, but untested. He wanted to see them fight before he sent them against the Empire.
"The Hellcannons hunger, and you will feed them the flesh of the boars that roam the hills, and the magic that has awakened the dead. Slaughter these creatures without mercy! If you prove yourself worthy, I will let you join the attack on the town below."
As the warriors charged out to begin their slaughter, Skurlorg looked again toward Thorshafn. A tall tower rose above the other buildings, atop which was a lone Bright Wizard. As Skurlorg watched, the Wizard raised his arm into the air, his hand bursting into flame. With a great heave, the Wizard flung a writhing ball of flame toward the Hellcannons. It exploded against one of the Daemonic weapons and sent its crew reeling in all directions.
Skurlorg growled as the reek of sulfur and burning flesh reached his hairy nostrils.
The agonized squealing of a nearby boar mingled with the cries of the dying men of the Empire in the village below. Skurlorg smiled grimly - these were the sounds of victory. In a matter of days, the banner of the Raven God would fly over Thorshafn, the corpses of the Imperial garrison hanging below them.
As for the Wizard, he would die a slow and agonizing death. Skurlorg would see to that personally.