Scars Borough Fair

Engra presented himself at the Eternal Citadel to share with his Warlord the names he had decided upon. Tchar'zanek stood there, ever vigilant, ever believing that there was only one throne and that it was made of skulls and not for his own behind.

"Here's what I need you to do..."
"Forgive me, lord?"
"Sorry, Engra, reflexes and such. I trust you come before me with those names I asked of you?"

"Yes, indeed. These warriors, although somewhat inexperienced show great promise and I believe they will prove a worthy addition to our Host and the right candidates for this task."

"Lets hear it then."

"I first chose a Chosen."

"Ha! I see what you did there!"

"Yes, I see it as well, now. His name is Parsley Puppykicker. He is reckless and rash but the fire of War burns within him and he seems capable of producing much Change."

"Always a good thing. What else?"

"I have taken the liberty of bringing up some of the mischievous Dark Elves as well, my liege."

"As I knew you would."

"There is one amongst the Sorcerers, one even Malekith eyes suspiciously. He holds much power but his kin, both accursed and regular, fear him for it. I know not his real name and I take it that few do. They refer to him only as 'Sage'."

"Sounds promising."
"There is a Zealot I've been eyeing for some time now..."

"Well, well..."

"Not quite what I meant."
"My interest has dwindled."

"I apologize. Her name is Ehone Deadrose but she has gained the unassuming alias of plain old 'Rose'. The conversations she holds with that skull of hers always ring true and her knife has brought as many men to their deaths as her magic has saved many of ours from it."

"A bit convoluted but I trust your judgment."

"Next I chose a Witch Elf for none are so helpful when secrecy is of the essence. One of them, Likith Marrymenot or just 'Mary', has been rising slow in their ranks, despite her prowess. I know not the reason for this but I am sure she would not hesitate at a chance to gain your favour, and Malekith's, by joining this venture."

"Queer name. Not very Druchii. Carry on."

"Lastly, I thought of the most curious of Goblins. He was raised by..."

"Wolves?"

"Wolves, my lord?"
"Not wolves then?"
"Humans. He has the cunning of a gobbo and the communication skills of, say, a Marauder."

"Oh. Well, a greenskin is still a greenskin, couldn't except much more than that. His name?"

"Thyme."
"Tom? What an odd name for a goblin."
"Not Tom. Thyme."
"It is getting close to noon."
"No, sire. His name is Thyme."
"Tom."
"Thyme."

"Exactly what I had said before."

"Indeed."
"Very well. Meet with them tomorrow at first light... of... some place where light still shines upon. There is a village I need them to visit, possibly even plunder. I will have the particulars delivered to you by then."

Engra nodded, for he was, as are we, tired of this dialogue. He left to, once again, stand at his platform near the chasm by the arena. He looked behind him at the Winds of Chaos, wondering of the far places he had once ventured to visit for a short while only to be spewed out most abruptly. Some day soon, he thought, I will unravel your secrets and your precious static lands will feel and tremble before the wrath of Change as has the rest of existence.

Graul scratched his behind with his knife.