The story of Reiken, Dark Lord of the Legion of Discord.

The cold wind of the Chaos Wastes chilled him to the bone. As he finally climbed the cliffside and turned to behold bodies by the thousands littering the icy lands, his mind was swirling and his determination was adamant. This battle, he thought, had been their victory. The forces of Order had completely outnumbered them and now he was the last of his kind to survive this first conflict. There would be others and he did not despair for the legions of the Raven God were plentiful, but their plans had been set back and slowed. Not thinking twice of his insignificant rank, he rallied up the last of the marauders and demons and organized a hunt for the surviving humans. They would not get away so easily.
 

 Prying his screaming blade from the pelvis of a human priest, he turned to face far greater numbers of men than he had started with. His following had grown, but his thirst for human blood had not yet been quenched. Raising up his blade he called out a rallying cry and the men came running to his beck and call. Why, he thought, why does the Raven God give me the gift of command now? With that thought his scouts let out a yelp, but not of warning... allies? 'What allies? We have no...' his thought collapsed on its own as he remembered his Dread Lord, Tchar’zanek, talking of an alliance. Their flags were seen long before their slick elven faces and sharp blades. Just as he was readying his blade for another showdown with the wreched elves a zealot laid her hand upon him and whispered words of wisdom; 'Blessings of the Raven God fall upon those who see chance. Heed the words of your Dread Lord and you may yet be rewarded.'

He was not happy to be heading back so soon. They had only been on the hunt for three days and he was sure there were yet full regiments of the army of Order out there, ripe for the picking. The zealot was right. It was not his place to question his masters. Escorting the lost Dark Elves to the Inevitable City would be seen as an act of loyalty, which he was sure the Dark Elves would enjoy immensely. Throughout the days it took to journey back he learned the Dark Elves were nothing like their treacherous cousins and managed to actually be rather enjoyable company. Especially the one sorceress who spoke for this group was an interesting person, her views on the uses of magic were facinating and would surely make for great sport in the narrows of the City of Madness. His return to the city was only saved by the presence of the Dark Elves.. the looks from various important personage told him that his actions after the battle were not welcome. There would be hell to pay.
Apparently the entourage he was escorting had some pretty important elves for Pherix Master of Change himself came to welcome them. The elves were quickly ushered to suitable resting areas after the welcome speech by the Master of Change. Thus Pherix turned his eye towards our prodigy and the numbers behind him. 'Go and wait for word in the Lost Narrows and take your men with you', he was told. 'My men?' his mind swirled as he commanded them to march.

The Lost Narrows were not a place for the weakhearted nor for those traveling alone, but the sheer number of his men made eveyone and everything stay clear of their camp. It had already been two weeks and his patience was growing thin, perhaps he was forgotten.. perhaps this was his punishment, to live in the Narrows the rest of his days. He wanted to talk to the zealot who had so kindly offered him advice before, but she could not be found.. nobody had seen her for days. His men had begun duelling with the local population just to pass the time, pray tell some would die in that mess.. but he did not have the heart to forbid the fun. It was dreadfully boring there.
At last the zealot arrived with quick strides and a determined look on her face. 'Organize them quickly! Make haste we must look ready!' she said and after the episode at the Wastes, he did not question her wisdom. He organized a band and stormed the duelling foes, driving them out from the edges of the camp, then he chastised the rest and formed parade ready groups. Finally he stood at the ready at the very front of the lines and noticed he had made it just in time. Around the corned arrived a large group of Dark Elves accompanied by several Dread Guards and the Master of Change himself. Among the Dark Elves there was the familiar face of the sorceress whose company he had enjoyed during the return, but also a very distinguishable Dark Elf he had not seen before - one with hair white as snow and skin dark as death. They came to a halt not 30 feet from them and the Master of Change nodded to the zealot by our heros side, and the zealot spoke thus 'Behold and kneel before the Master of Change! Adore and growel before Queen Morathi!' and they did such groweling that his teeth felt the taste of earth. The cold voice of the Queen echoed in the Narrows 'Pray tell he looks pitiful, but perhaps a sense of promise lingers. Very well, I accept.' and with that she and most of the group turned and walked away. Most.. but not all.
Those left behind were lead by the sorceress and she came up to him to offer her and the services of her men in his legion, his Legion of Discord. As per the orders of the Dread Lord Tchar’zanek himself they set forth together towards the lands of the greenskins.

The Legion of Discord had been belittled and sieged by the orcs for days when the shaman arrived unguarded into their camp. His message was clear. The leader of the Legion of Discord must challenge for leadership of the local warband in single combat or perish under the mighty power of Waaagh. Both of our heroes eager advisors, the zealot and the sorceress leaped to the chance to discuss orcish politics and whatnot with the shaman and retired to a separate tent. It was not long after a plan was forged and they set forth towards the orcish encamptment, led by the shaman. There the shaman entered the hut of the boss and issued the challenge. An hour later the boss came out from the hut and threw away an empty pitcher, which the shaman quickly recovered and places in his bag with a smile on his face. The boss was big. Very big. The first few blows also proved him to be extremely quick for his size. Our hero despaired that this would not be an easy fight, but had faith that the Raven would bring misfortune upon this green beast. The longer the battle lasted, the surer his blade met the beasts armor and tore at its flesh. At last he noticed the grown pupils of his opponent and went for the kill with a dedicated smile on his already bloodied face. The Raven God indeed smiles upon me, his thought was as his blade severed the head of the boss.
The confusion among the orcs was immediate and they seemed to be ready to attack him, but the shaman stepped into the circle and started to convince the orcs how it would be better to band up with a great, smart warrior in a battle against the humies, stunties and the blasted high elves than to stay there and drink stuntie ale. How the Waaagh should be directed and what not... his ears were still ringing from the mace of his dead foe and his concentration was fading.. he hoped none would come close to him for he would surely swing his blade at them. The orcs were already way too riled up to listen to the shaman, but soon came to their senses as a huge squig jumped from beyond their lines right in the center of the ring. Dodging the giant animal, our hero readied his blade for the inevitable battle. But the beast was somehow .. intelligently moving and screaming at the crowd to calm down. He then saw a goblin INSIDE the beast, pulling on bits of meat and guiding it this way and that way like riding a horse. The orcs were so amused by the display that they finally calmed down and heeded the words of the shaman.

And thus the Legion of Discord, lead by their Dark Lord Reiken and his cunning advisors, began their carnage against the forces of Order.