Prologue

Karl Franz dismounted his griffin, Deathclaw. He approached his men, who were all cheering their emperor. It had been a tough fight, but for the third time, the Empire had prevailed at Black Fire Pass. The tide of Greenskins had been halted, with a decisive Imperial victory. Karl Franz surveyed the battlefield. His stomach turned at the amount of dead and dying Imperials, but he couldn't help but smile at the amount of fallen Orcs and Goblins. The Greenskins had attempted a direct frontal assault, and had been cut to pieces by Imperial artillery and handgunners. They reached the line in several places however, and dealt out heavy losses. The battle lasted 6 hours, and the Empire was seriously starting to look like losing, until the Dwarfs arrived. The sight of short, bearded warriors charging at the Greenskins, screaming bloody murder, rallied the Imperials.

With the help of the Dwarfs, the banner of Sigmar was planted on the hill overlooking the Imperial lines. Karl Franz approached Kurt Helborg and Ludwig Schwarzhelm. "Good work gentlemen," said the emperor.

"Your Majesty, I am sorry, but…" Kurt couldn't finish his sentence. "Marius Leitdorf is dead," finished Ludwig. Karl Franz cursed. He never trusted the "mad count", but he was sorry to hear of his death. "The damn fool tried to duel with Grimgor," said Kurt. Karl Franz fought back a smile. Only Marius would be insane enough to pick a fight with Grimgor Ironhide, who was the most feared of all Orc Warbosses.

"His unit fought to the last man," said Ludwig.

"It is truly a death worthy of him," Karl Franz replied, "a death worthy of a man of his reputation." Ludwig and Kurt nodded in unison. "Well, I suppose it is time for one of those speeches the men love so much", the Emperor said, sighing.

Karl Franz got back on Deathclaw. He flew upward, and hovered above his men. "Today we are victorious! The green tide has been halted! Sigmar is with us this day! But do not allow hubris to take over. There are still many battles to be fought! Chaos rises in the north! But you are soldiers of the Empire, and I have no doubt in your courage or ability! Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, we march north!"

His men cheered. Karl Franz surveyed them. They were tired, but proud. He saw determination in their faces, along with relief. "There are no better soldiers in the Old World," he thought. These men would follow him to the Realm of Chaos, if that is what it took to achieve victory. The soldiers started to disperse. Officers shouted orders and, like clockwork, they formed ranks. The looting detachments marched forward to search the fallen Greenskins for valuables, while others began gathering the wounded and burying the dead.

While this was done, Karl Franz again surveyed the battlefield. It was hard to imagine that such carnage could have occurred in such a short time. He walked back to his tent. He knew he needed rest, but was so exhilarated at the victory that he couldn't sleep. He instead decided to deal with sending word of his victory back to his court. He drafted a dispatch, and had it sent by courier to Altdorf. Outside, the sound of his soldiers singing drowned out the cries of the wounded.

The cook brought him a bowl of soup, which the Emperor thanked him for. As Karl Franz ate, he studied the reports of the stirring of Chaos. Things looked a lot worse then he thought. Large Chaos war bands had been sighted along the northern border of Kislev. His armies in the north were badly undermanned; he needed to get there, and fast. A sudden rush of fatigue suddenly hit the Emperor, who retired to his cot. He was asleep almost the moment his head hit the pillow.

Far away, a man in a suit of Dark Armor surveyed the Imperial Camp. The Imperial pickets had not caused him any trouble: they died just as easily as Kislevites. He began to mutter an unholy incantation. It was in some horrible, forgotten tongue that would cause one's hair to stand on end. As he spoke, the air around him begin to coarse with power. A very loud humming began as well, slowly gaining in pitch. As the Chaos sorcerer continued his ritual, he began to age. His skin began to grow wrinkled, his hair started turning grey, and then falling off. Next, his skin began to crumble to dust, and fall off him. Soon, all that remained was a skeleton, glowing with power. The spell that he cast shattered reality itself, and the Imperial camp, tents and all, vanished. The skeleton then crumbled to dust entirely. But the greatest threat ever to the reign of Chaos had been sent to another world…