The Creation of the Cleansing Flame

     Hermann von Brandstifter walked proudly, though he was splattered in blood and the filth. To his right, the remains of the village still smouldered; the colour of the dying flames matching the evening sky above. Despite the many wounds he had suffered, Hermann betrayed no hint of pain and his strength was a source of inspiration to the motley collection of people who sat around him. His brothers in arms, all priests of Sigmar moved within the crowd providing words of comfort and relief.
     The crowd was near its breaking point though. Some were already bewailing their fate, proclaiming that the world was near its end and beating themselves with switches of willow. Beside these driven mad by the day’s events, another larger group sat huddled together. They glanced nervously at the fire and the shadows it created in the gathering darkness. Their faces showed the horror and sorrow of the day, but in their hands they still clutched the farm implements and meat cleavers, which had served as weapons this day.
     Behind them were Hermann’s own troops. Most had seen true horrors in places like Mordheim or the Troll Country. The warriors of Chaos were, to them, just men and the agonies of battle old companions. Their presence had not only saved the villagers lives that day, but also kept their panic barely contained as night set in. For the fighters, the day had been good. Their blades and torches had purified an army belonging to Nurgle. Even now, the heat from the flames which consumed the twisted ones’ bodies and carried their souls to be remade on Sigmar’s forge could be felt. Only the leader of that army remained, and already his pyre was piled high around the pole to which he was bound.
     It was towards this figure that Hermann strode, torch in hand. As he approached, a silence fell over the crowd. Even the flagellants stopped their howling to see the scene unfold.
     Hermann raised his torch and began to speak. “This day, it seems to you that much has been lost, but I tell you now, through Sigmar’s grace, more has been gained.”
     He opened his mouth to continue, but a ragged laugh from the bound figure stopped him short. “Ha! Fools, you are all fools! There is nothing gained by opposing the true gods. Lord Nurgle took your children and your animals. He took your village. Even now his plagues infect you.”
     Murmurs began amongst the gathered townsfolk as they started to shuffle apart and eye each other suspiciously. Only the presence of Hermann and his warrior priests kept them from fleeing into the night.
     “And he who claims you have gained anything is the biggest fool of all. He thinks his pitiful manling god can save him or you. Ha. Watch his death and bewail your own!”
     With that, the bound wizard sucked in a great breath and exhaled a stream of foulness at the witch hunter.
     Hermann raised his torch like a sword to the block a blow. For a moment, the flame and foul liquid seemed to lock in an embrace like that of wrestlers. Silence gripped the scene as all eyes locked on the struggle. Then, with a great hissing the liquid was boiled off in harmless gas while the maggots housed within popped and burst into flames.
     The wizard continued to expel the noxious substance, but the more foulness poured on it, the brighter the flame burned. Slowly, inexorably Hermann forced his way to the wizard. Barely a foot separated the torch and sorcerer and still the blasphemous breath of Nurgle continued to pour forth. Yet, it could not extinguish the flame and Hermann smelt only pure clean air.
     Hermann now shouted above the hissing stream. “Behold, the power of your protector. Behold that your sacrifice today was not in vain. Behold the fate of those who defy Sigmar’s justice!”
     Hermann thrust the torch into the wizard’s face. The diseased skin of the Nurgle worshipper lit up like parchment and his pestilent breath changed to a scream of pain. The wood stacked around the wizard was unnecessary- the flame burst from within and consumed only him.
     Hermann turned to the townsfolk and raised the torch. “Follow me, and with Sigmar’s fire, we shall cleanse the world!”
     The townsfolk and soldiers alike raised a ragged cheer. Thus the crusade began.