The champions of the Warriors of Chaos bear weapons wrought in the daemon-forges of the far north, and among the most dreaded of these is the Chaos Hellblade. Beaten upon anvils steeped in blood and blessed by the Dark Gods, such a sword is more than mere metal; a fragment of daemonic essence is bound within the blade, giving it a malevolent hunger all its own.
A Hellblade seems to writhe with a life of its own, its edge trailing wisps of dark smoke and its surface etched with runes that shift and crawl before the eye. When it bites into flesh, it does more than wound; it feeds, drinking the essence of the slain and lending its bearer a portion of that stolen vitality. The mightiest Chaos Lords grow ever stronger as the slaughter mounts, their Hellblades keening with unholy delight at each fresh kill.
Yet to carry such a weapon is to enter a bargain as perilous as it is powerful. The daemon within the blade is no loyal servant, and it whispers ceaselessly to its wielder, urging ever greater bloodshed and coveting the champion's very soul. Many a Chaos warrior has been consumed by the hunger of his own Hellblade, becoming little more than a vessel for the daemon's endless slaughter. But such is the way of the Dark Gods, who reward strength and punish weakness, and the champion who masters his Hellblade becomes a terror against whom few can stand.
The armoury continues
