A dim sun shone down upon the blighted land. Tainted and warped trees groped in the still air, pink and purple like fleshy hands burrowing up from within the earth. Huts and tents dotted the hillside, adorned with grisly trophies of flesh and bone. Slowly the wind began to build, first a whisper like the gentle murmur of sweet lovers. Down from the great north the wind blew, bearing with it the Breath of the Gods, summoned forth by the coven gathered in the bleak landscape.
With a groan of ancient metal, the great wheel of Chaos began to turn and spin in the air, protesting as if a thing alive. Slowly the magic in the ancient device flickered to life, drawing in the Breath of the Gods and fueled by the blood of sacrifice. Tchar! Tzeeneth-alar! The cries of the coven rose in the quickening air, as the winds grew fierce, bending and snapping at the limbs of the trees and tearing at the cloth of the tents.
With a great crash like stones falling into the sea, the gate opened, a rift between the worlds. Out from the Realm beyond the Gate came the Magus, floating atop a Daemonic Disk, its eyes darting this way and that like a predator on the hunt. Tendrils rolled and licked at the air and ground as it passed, the creature barely constrained by the will of she who rode it. Once human, this tall pale woman wore her blessings from the gods openly. A third eye, blue and baleful like those upon the Disk she commanded, shone upon her forehead. One arm grew from her side, frail and thin like that of a bird, clutching a long staff bearing the symbol of her patron and master.
Already the enemies of the Great Changer had come forth; a tribe of beastmen made their desperate assault upon the fringe of the camp as their feral warriors charged and slew the cultists who had opened the gate. Sparing little thought for the cowering cultists, prostrating themselves before the opened gate, the Magus glided quietly forth with little more than a thought. Crimson bolts of fire gathered in her hands and were tossed forth, curving through the air to seek the targets she willed.
However all was not as it seemed in this place, a disturbance tugged at her thoughts, drawing her away from the twisted trees and past the butchered remains laid forth by those who had spilled forth with her. The Breath of the Gods blew strongly to the south and near at hand something disturbed the flow from the north. With her third eye she could see the town of men that lay before her and the flickering red fire dancing upon the winds, striking down with murderous intent. Soon enough these wielders of Aqshy would feel the true flames brought forth from the winds of magic.
