The Pedestrians of the Apocalypse


The march seemed to go on forever. The Troll Country was no playground, and danger lurked on every step. They had to be careful. The four of them were scouting ahead of the group, led by Zraanth. He was the only one skilled at hunting. Khastarax was all about combat, and he had spent most of his youth training and fighting, whileKillog and Ygrad sought to learn the mystical traditions of their people. Zraanth had experience in the wilds, but despite his skill as a hunter, nothing had prepared him for this situation. For now, he was not the hunter, but the prey.

By the time he heard the hooves, it was already too late. His brothers were drawing their weapons. Battlecries mixed with curses in the Kislevite tongue were heard. Those bastards had spotted them a while ago. They were excited. They thought they had an easy battle ahead of them. Which means they didn’t spot the rest of the lads. That should make them reckless. Even easier to kill.

The first rider jumped out of the trees with a scream. Khastarax’s greatsword came down like an executioner’s blade, slicing through the brigandine armor, and chopping the neck of both rider and steed before they even hit the ground. Five more came from behind him. Zraanth shot a desperate arrow, trying to hold them back, but missed. The riders fell hard on them, spears biting Kurgan flesh under the thick furs that covered it. But that was not enough to fell the four brothers. And that was the last mistake these Kislevites would ever make. The dense foliage provided no room to steer the horses. They would never have the chance to turn around for a second offensive.

Ygrad charged a confused rider, who was trying to steer his horse. He fell onto him like a madman, slashing the straps of his saddle and pulling him down to the ground. Killog followed, flashing his sword at another rider, but to no avail. Khastarax raced to join the fray, when an arrow flew over his shoulder, inches above. It landed on the side of a horse, raising it to its back legs. Its rider was surprised and fell off, giving Khastarax an easy kill. The riders were realizing the position they were in. This was no easy fight after all.

One of the riders turned to strike Killog. His spear dug itself deep into the ribs of his opponent, bringing him to his knees. His muffled cry of anguish was probably the only thing that could shake Ygrad’s attention from his prey. He raised his head, eyes burning with mad fury. Blood was running down his jaw and neck. Laughing hysterically, he charged the horseman, his blade sinking to the hilt in his gut.

The other two riders had managed to steer their horses while the chaots were engaged in combat with the rest of the scouts. They had no chance of beating them, and besides, they were not there for that. Spurring their horses, they rode past the four brothers.Khastarax swung his greatsword in a low sweep, chopping the hooves off one horse, but the other jumped over the blade. Ygrad finished off the unfortunate rider, as Killog got back on his feet. Only Zraanth gazed over the horizon at the fleeing Kislevite.

“Those were just scouts. And if that one got away, it means he’ll return with the rest of the army. We need to move. Fast”

The Beginning

Why on earth were they retreating?

They were Kurgan warriors. The unstoppable killers of Chaos. They were the ones that sent others running for their lives.

Curse those southern weaklings. They had proven quite the tough nut to crack. The last assault on Praag was less than successful, and a large part of the Chaos Horde was slain. This had lifted the spirits of the city’s defenders, who attempted a daring counterattack, and had sent the besieging force into a retreat. Now the marauders were running, and the galloping sound from the hooves of the Kislevite horsemen was too close for comfort.

“Hold!” said a loud voice in the harsh sounds of the Kurgan language. “If we keep running like this, we’ll get separated and run down like cattle”. The statement came from a tall, muscular warrior, large even for his people’s standards. His skull was shaved bald and his body full of tattoos, many of them depicting the unholy symbol of Khorne, the Chaos god of Blood, Murder and Slaughter. A huge two-handed sword lay on the furs covering his back. He pulled it and raised it up high. “To me, bretheren!”

The nearby warriors, no more than a dozen, ceased their running and gathered around the giant, their faces full of curiosity on what the man had to say. He had certainly made an impression. Three men stepped up and came closer to him. His trusty half-brothers. Children from the same womb, but different fathers.

“What do you suggest,Khastarax?". His half-brother,Zraanth, pulled the slimy long hair from his sweaty face and laid a tentacly right arm on the shoulder of the speaker. His left hand was still clutching his bow in front of his bloated belly, sporting the three circles of Nurgle, god of Disease.

“He has a point” intervened Killog, the third brother. This one was not the type that caught the eye, even for a Kurgan, save for his fiery red hair, which he considered a blessing from the god of Change, Tzeentch. “We can’t keep running like this. We need to gather our men and meet with the rest of the Horde, otherwise we’re as good as dead”.

“Right,” spoke the last of the four brothers, and arguably the most unsettling. Ygrad, follower of Slaanesh, the god of Pleasure and the Prince of Pain, wore no fur cape like the others, and thus displayed the chain-like piercings across his spine which were linked to those on his nipples. His out worldly appearance was complemented by one of his eyes being completely milky white, without pupil. “you lads follow us and we’ll meet the rest of the Horde”.

“Hang on in there” came a voice from the audience. A towering warrior, sporting a bushy beard and long braids, stepped forward, an axe in each hand. “I don’t recall anyone makin’ you leaders…”

Khastarax, sword still raised in the air, brought it down in a lightning fast motion. The heavy blade made a wet crunch as the steel met the marauder’s spine. The man’s head fell from his neck, mouth still open in mid-sentence, and rolled down to the others. Khastarax took a deep breath and slowly regained his pose, rising back to his full height.

“Any other objections?”
Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.