High in the sky, the sun seeped through the foggy shroud that covered Aldefane. The arena’s hard dirt, stained with blood, was silent. The victors stood in one rank. Swords sheathed, helmets under arm, mail dented, shields marked by scores of deflected blows. The day broke with hundreds on the field. These twelve warriors defeated all foes.
With a boom, the western door burst open, and Solon Theros strode through it. Red eyes glared from the mask of the winged helm. Mask and eyes fixed the rank of twelve. He approached the victors with one purpose. From these, Solon Theros would make heroes to fight for Chaos in the dragon’s army. But first, each must pass the final test.
In one hand, he grasped a broad-blade sword. In the other, a shield, demonic skull splayed across the face. Bare shoulder muscles rippled with the swing of his arms. Oiled leather creaked at every step. Scaled armor clinked at every other. Boots crushed the ground, grinding stones beneath.
“When a Super-hero approaches within his charge movement of the enemy, all such units must check morale as if they had taken excess casualties” (Chainmail, 30).
Following the joust, remaining figures are armored foot. Any who fail the morale test finish in the care of the torturer and executioner. All who pass undergo one year of training to become heroes. These will fight in the final phase of Champions of Chaos.