Tassar Dreadstrider

Tassar, like most stormcast, went through the pain of the reforgings many and many times before he reached the title of Lord Terminos. Countless foes fell to his strikes, countless foes have burned, crashed, gnawed and thrashed his body only for him to be reforged again. Some wounds completely nulified by the might of the Anvil, some left a scar or two behind. But there was one particular wound that haunts and marks Tassar like no other.

Tassar was a Decimator when he fought his fateful foe. A fortress known as Cinderhold was besieged by a smaller forces of Stormcast Eternals and Fireslayers. The Khornate worshippers fought to the last and the battle was seemingly over, the halls erupted in flames a from this fiery inferno an endless horde of demons poured. Bloodletters pushed back the forces of Order and the true carnage began. One of the demons stood out from the rest as it was both taller and much stronger than its fellow fiends. It was Vorrkar, Bloodmaster. Tassar's prime roared a command and rushed forward, only to meet his doom by the fiery blade of the fiend. Tassar knew that they could not best this beast, not with this many injuries already. It was his Lord Veritant that shouted the idea to banish the demon, he just needed to keep him occupied. And Tassar, embracing his origin and embracing what his Stormhost aspired to do, rushed forward against the Demon. They clashed in a duel that shook the ground, axe against the sword, lightning against flame. After many exchanged strikes, the fiery blade pierced his side forcing him to stumble down. "I'm taking you down with me," the warrior gritted through his teeth and with last remnants of strength, Tassar slammed his axe to the demon's shoulder, causing him to fall down on its knees. The demon roared and flames followed, burning Tassar's side from within. Tassar screamed in pain as lightning that came for him dazed the demon for long enough to be banished. Soon it was apparent that banishment was not complete, but the soul of the demon was bound to the smoldering halls and the rest of his legion with him. A victory was won that day...

But Tassar, and many others paid the price. His brothers and sisters endured the reforging and carried on, but perhaps it was ill fate, but Tassar's wound could not truly heal. A part of him was still there, wreathed in fire and pain. Every reforging reminded him, a searing sting in his side. Perhaps a day would come where something would sooth this terrible burden. Perhaps...