The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, A friendly Wager

Secreted away within the labyrinthine passages of Har Ganeth, amidst the slavers pen, a dark unassuming warehouse emitted the muffled sounds of combat intermingled with screams of pain and shouts of joy. Here Highborn as well as lowborn with the coin to spare wagered on combatants comprised mostly of slaves captured by the corsair raiding parties. Inside, the dark, smoky atmosphere of the warehouse radiated excitement, fear, and the smell of blood. Beast men, humans, Asur, Orks and anyone else unfortunate enough to be captured by the Druchii battled for their lives on the sandy blood stained floor of the makeshift arena for the dubious honor of preserving their lives at least one more day.

Zemok watched the current combat intently, his brass colored eyes aglow with murderous glee. A beast man had been pitted against a Druchii that had formerly been a black guard. The beast man issued a monstrous roar and charged the Druchii with his double axes already aiming strikes at the much smaller Druchii soldier. The Black Guard waited until the last possible moment and side stepped the vicious, but clumsy attack and brought his own two blades to bear. He spun a complete circuit around the beast man’s right side, thrusting into its hideous flank with his left hand blade as he spun about. Coming out of his deadly spin he slashed down with his right hand blade using the full force of the momentum he had gained during his spin, slicing deeply into the hamstring of the batsman’s meaty right leg. The beast man howled in rage and pain. He turned sharply on his right leg, being too stupid to realize he had been hamstrung and promptly fell on his face. His lithe opponent casually placed a foot between his shoulder blades and thrust his sword in between two of the beast man’s neck vertebrae, ending the pathetic mewling once and for all. Without a word the Druchii sheathed his blades and headed back towards his heavily armed retainers who promptly took his sword belt and put him in irons, leading him back to his stall.

"Very impressive. I could use one like him." Zemok said to the figure standing next to him.

"Aye, he is one of the better prospects we have." nodded the boney little Druchii slave master.

"Why is he here? Surely there is a better use for him than fighting in the slave pits?" Zemok asked.

"I do not know, nor do I care. He was delivered to me by the grace of the dark lady, and I do not ask questions." Said Bralir with a shrug of his boney shoulder.

"I am in need of this type of man, as you know. However the amount of them I require may be beyond my current means of purchasing."

The slaver squinted his rheumy dark eyes at Zemok. "Disciple of Khaine or not, ye'll not be cheating me, ye hear!" the slaver said in the sternest voice he could muster.

Zemok flashed a quirky half grin at the slaver. "Of course not, good sir. I have another proposition in mind. I have enough gold here to more than pay for about ten of these fighters, generally speaking. I suggest a wager."

The slaver glared at Zemok suspiciously, wondering what the disciple was up to. "What do ye have in mind?"

"Come, let’s take a walk. I want to view these slaves of yours."

The slaver frowned, and then reluctantly agreed to the Disciple's request. Heading back into a walled off portion of the warehouse, away from the tumult of clashing sounds coming from the fighting pits, Zemok and the slaver viewed the slave stock in the back. Humans, Orks, a few Asur, men from the chaos wastes, all herded into small pens and cages.

"Now then, what be this wager of yers?" The slaver asked suspiciously.

Zemok simply said,” pit your Black Guard against any of the opponents present. If you win, I give you my gold and walk. If my champion wins, I take my choice of the fighters."

The slavers rheumy eyes narrowed even further. "What trick is this? I get to pick your champion for you? How, by the dark lady, do you expect to win? What is your angle?"

"My angle? Let's call it faith. Let's call it luck, or stupidity. Your choice, it matters not. The wager stands." Zemok leaned against the rails of one of the holding pens, crossing his arms in a relaxed display.

"Wait here." The slaver said, then turned his back to Zemok and hobbled off to find his betters.

Zemok examined the holding area before him. Rows of cages were set up here. Several were empty now, due to the fact that their occupants had been slain in combat, much to their owners chagrin.

Of the available cages, one held the Black Guard, sitting cross legged in his cell, waiting for his next match. In the cell adjacent to him, a Chaos Chosen stood peering out of his cage with a menacing stare. His huge bulk was covered in heavy iron plate that appeared to be grafted to his skin. The armor itself was covered in blasphemous runes of ruinous power.

Another cage held a human armored in battered plate male. While he was large, he was not quite so large as the Chosen. Both looked to be quite menacing and capable. Yet another pair of cages held Large heavily armored Orks. With all his battle lust and love of murder, Zemok was not sure he'd want to face one of these brutes in single combat. Every inch of their large overly muscled bodies were covered in heavy steel plate. In the last cage was a single Ork. While a well muscled individual, he was not as big as the black Orks, nor was he large for one of his race. In fact, he appeared to be fairly mundane as Orks went.

Zemok glanced over to see the slaver returning with several other, heavily armed Druchii in tow. Zemok calmly raised an eyebrow at the approaching party while he stealthily ensured that his secreted daggers were loose in their sheaths.” You brought friends, I see." Zemok said nonchalantly to the slaver.

The slaver nodded briskly and said,” These are my business partners; they wanted to hear this ridiculous bet for themselves."

Zemok shrugged and repeated the details of the proposed bet for the benefit of the newcomers. While they discussed the bet amongst themselves, Zemok perused the pens once more, trying to keep the anxiety from his countenance. He had to time this right to ensure the proper outcome for himself.

"So...we pick the opponent?" said one of the newcomers, a tall, lanky Druchii wearing a simple chain mail shirt overtop of a cheaply made wool Kheitan.

"Any of these within the pens." Zemok said with a casual wave of his arm towards the penned fighters.

"Let us see what is available." Another of the group of slavers said in a raspy voice. Zemok allowed them to go first, following closely behind them so he could hide his grin. They already knew which combatant they were going to pick, there was no need to take a look. The bait was set, the hook taken, now all he had to do was play his part. The group of slavers and Zemok walked the row of slave pens, the slavers making a show of carefully inspecting each of the caged warriors in turn. When they had completed their inspection, the boney slaver, Bralir simply said to Zemok," Show us the coin."

Zemok obliged by producing a large, heavy pouch from the sleeves of his robes and opened it, showing the Druchii slavers the gold coins within. Their eyes lit up with greed at the easy bet they assumed they were going to win.

"We...ah, we'll just hold onto that for you until the conclusion of the fight." One of the slavers said and reached for the pouch. Faster than the Druchii could blink, a dagger appeared in Zemok's hand and he slashed the greedy slaver across the palm. The slaver yelped and pulled his hand back, staring at his hand first in anger, then in abject horror as the flesh around the cut began to blacken.

"You have about thirty seconds to live, use them wisely." Zemok said while the afflicted Druchii stared in shock and terror at his injured hand. Streaks of angry red racing up his arm even as the flesh of his hand began to rot, blackening before his eyes. His eyes bulged out of his head and he tried to utter a scream of panic and pain, but his swelling tongue choked the scream into a panicked gurgle. He fell to the ground, frothing at the mouth and convulsing in pain. It was long minutes before he died. The other slavers looked at their dead companion, body frozen in a rictus of pain. "Maybe...you should hold the coin until after the fight." The slaver wearing the chain shirt and wool Kheitan stammered.

"Good idea." Zemok said with a smirk.

"Well then." Bralir said, clearing his throat. "I never liked him much anyway. You said we could pick any of these fighters to go against the Black Guard?"

Zemok nodded. "Yes, I believe that was the agreement."

Bralir couldn't help but let his malicious glee show in his expression as he walked past the hulking chosen, the experienced human and even the massive black Orks. He came at last to the cage with the single ork. The ork, while being far from frail, did not appear to be very threatening to the likes of the Black Guard. He only wore scraps of armor, and cringed away from the gate as the skinny slaver peered in at him.” Yes, I think this one will do nicely." Bralir said with a sneer.

"What! I must protest this! You can't mean to pit this sad excuse of an ork against that!!" Zemok exlaimed, feigning distress at the slavers decision.

"Too bad priest! Perhaps you should spend more time with your god and less with the wine bottle!" Bralir sneered.

Zemok glared at the slaver, and then nodded his ascent. Zemok abruptly shifted to a wide, toothy smile, and said;” Well, then, a bet is a bet, shall we get to it then?” Not waiting for an answer from the slavers, Zemok headed towards the arena.

The slavers looked at each other with knowing looks, each thinking the Disciple had utterly lost his sense. As the combatants were being prepared, Zemok strolled over to examine the rather plain specimen the slavers had been gracious enough to choose to be his champion.

When Zemok was close enough to make eye contact with the ork, he was as surprised by the glimmer of intelligence in his jaundiced eyes as he was the first time he had met him. When Zemok got close enough to him, the ork whispered,” Is it really necessary for me to cower."

Zemok raised an elegant eyebrow at this and said,” Of course it is, you twit. This is the third time we've pulled this; I would think you knew the act by now!" Zemok deftly slipped a small tube of a greasy substance to the ork, who with near equal deftness palmed it and hid it within the fold of his dirty ragged garments.” Remember how to play this Balfus," hissed Zemok.

The ork merely grunted and went back to his preparations. Zemok wandered back to the group of slavers, all of whom were giving Zemok smug looks, each believing this slightly drunk fool of a disciple had stupidly given away his rather weighty bag of gold for a fools bet.

The Black Guard entered the arena first to cheers from the crowd. He was rapidly becoming a favorite in the pits. He stoically stood while the retainers girded him with his sword belt and last few pieces of plate armor. When they finished he smoothly unsheathed his twin blades and took up a relaxed posture at the center of the arena floor. The Black Guards opponent entered the arena at the far end, with many boo's and even fits of laughter from the crowd. The noise in the arena grew to a crescendo as bets rapidly changed hands, most favoring the Black Guard, but a few braver souls placing money at high odds on the raggedy Ork that had entered the ring bearing two massive choppa's in his fists. The ork axes were massive and crude, looking like pieces of raggedly sharp scrap metal next to the slightly curved long blades of the Druchii opposite him. The Ork glanced about and smiled when he saw his opponent. He instantly lumbered into a clumsy charge towards the Druchii and bellowed out;"WAAAAAAGH!!!!" The Black Guard looked none too concerned with the lumbering charge of his opponent and simply stood waiting as he had with so many other opponents. When the Ork closed the distance and took a massive swing with his right hand Choppa, the Black Guard smoothly sidestepped as he had with the beast man and spun off to the right, aiming to skewer the poor ork with his left blade and hamstring him with his right blade upon completion of the spin. Things worked a little differently for the Black Guard this time around. The Ork stopped his charge and counter spun to his left even as the Black Guard began his spin to the right. The Black Guards left hand sword found nothing but air, while his right hand blade was neatly deflected by an upward swing from the Orks right hand Choppa. The Black Guards eyes widened in surprise, even as the Ork stopped his left spin and spun back the other way, nimble as the Druchii he faced and smashed his elbow into the Black Guards face, shattering his nose and sending him staggering backwards a few paces with a grunt of pain. The Ork leered at his opponent and closed in again, this time slower with more precaution. The excited chittering of the crowd turned instantly to quiet murmers, then angry shouts as people tried too late to change their bets. The Black Guard snarled an oath and closed with the Ork, this time much more carefully, setting his blades to weaving a pattern of death in front of him. The Ork, while not displaying any lethal weapon spinning, none the less easily parried every strike from the Black Guard, their weapons ringing a staccato pattern of impending death as the Ork pushed the Black Guard ever further back. The Druchii gaped in disbelief as he was outmaneuvered by the Ork facing him. He was beginning to tire as the ork kept coming at him with that stupid grin on his face the whole time.

Finally, after what seemed ages, the Ork missed a beat and left an opening through his blistering savage attacks. The Black Guard slipped his blade through the opening left by the Ork, scoring a savage hit against the Orks ribs which the Ork took stoically with a grunt, and his grin widened. Too late the Druchii saw his error. The Ork had not made a mistake, he had let him through his guard and accepted the hit. The Ork brought down his Choppa hard on the flat of the Druchii's blade, snapping it clean in two. The startled dark elf let out a strangled yelp and dove backwards into a roll, disengaging from the suddenly fearsome ork and shouted for his halberd. Tossing his sword in the sand near his handlers he thrust his hand out and caught the shaft of the thrown halberd and instantly set it spinning defensively about him as he spun to face the Ork who was surely charging at his back.

He expected the charge of an enraged ork...and there was no one there! The ork had maneuvered around his side while he was distracted, which was painfully clear as the Orks choppa's thudded into the Druchii's armor with echoing thuds, denting the plate and sending the Druchii flying back against the wall. The Druchii grunted in pain as he rebounded off the wall, but had the presence of mind to lead back into the Ork with his halberd leading the way, forcing the Ork back with his longer reach. The Druchii sought to keep the Ork at bay with swift, deft jabs and slashes with his longer halberd.

The crowd had grown excited again, shouting cheers and jeers at the combatants. The slavers and even Zemok looked on worriedly. He had not actually expected the Druchii to give Balfus this much trouble. Not that the Ork showed any concern, but most of the fights the Druchii disciple had seen him in had ended much sooner than this.

The slavers looked on worried for many of the same reasons. They had assumed they had picked the weakest match for their champion, but that was obviously not the case here. Zemok focused his attention back on the pit fight going on, silently cheering Balfus on. If the Ork did not win, they were both dead. Balfus roared his defiance at the Druchii and launched himself at him in a more typical ork fashion and this time it was the Druchii that smiled widely. The Druchii thrust his halberd at the Ork, aiming to skewer his heart on the wicked blade of his halberd. The ork obligingly flew towards it, but just as the tip of the blade pierced his leather hauberk the Ork spun to his right, rolling along the shaft of the halberd and delivering a quick strike to the elbow joint in armor of the Druchii's left arm. A metal clang sounded with an ear piercing squeal as the Choppa broke through, and then the Ork spun off and was away again. The Black Guard snarled and let his anger override the pain of the wound. The ork stood back and chuckled at the Black Guard then leapt to the attack again. Over and over the ork beat at the Black Guards defenses, apparently having endless stamina. The Druchii was getting tired, and his muscles getting sluggish. He was having trouble fending off the ork and getting more lethargic with every passing second. Suddenly, the Black Guard understood as his eyes widened in fear. He tried to press an all out attack, but his sluggish body fumbled and he dropped his Halberd, the poison on the Orks Choppa’s taking quick effect. The Black Guard barely had a moment to lament his error before the ork took his head off. Balfus raised his Choppa's above his head and roared out his challenge. "WAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!"

Zemok smiled to himself and turned to the slavers to collect. Their faces were white with unbridled rage. "You tricked us!" Spluttered the boney slaver.

Zemok shrugged.” You picked the opponent. It is not my fault you were such a fool." "I suggest you pay up, a bet is a bet. It would not do well for business to let all these people see you shirk a bet now, would it?" Zemok said with a voice hard as steel and cold as ice.

The slavers looked to each other nervously, and then agreed.

Several hours later, Zemok surveyed his prize outside of the gates of Har Ganeth. Fourteen Druchii soldiers, Four chosen, several Marauders and even the Black Orks he took as his prize. Balfus removed his steel skull cap, revealing the fading mark of Khaine Zemok had inscribed on his forehead. The other marks and benedictions he had placed on the ork before the combat would be wearing off now as well. “Good job Balfus. As promised, I will take you to the Anti Sanctus Chaotica now, to meet the elders. I think they will be pleased with you." Zemok said, sounding extremely satisfied with himself. "Three slave houses in as many months, and none smart enough to figure out the scam. We have swelled the ranks with many able soldiers. I am sure the dark ones will be appreciative of your efforts. "Balfus grunted in acknowledgement, either too tired to care, or more likely, only understanding about half of what Zemok had said now that the enhancements the disciple had laid on him had worn off. Zemok and Balfus led their rather large party away from Har Ganeth and towards the Lake of the Abyss.