Seeker of Pain and Information

Gharhakh Sunderbrute was not well pleased. He and a band of his mounted warriors skulked around the outskirts of a settlement upon their gore-slicked steeds, keeping to the shadows of a nearby wood, despite their lust for bloodshed.
He had gladly volunteered to partake in this mission, thinking to prove his loyalty and worth by handing Aichmos the great relic which the Barbed King so desired. Yet in his mind, Gharhakh had envisaged a glorious battle, dry earth soaked in blood until it became maroon mud, the screams and cries of Sigmar’s soldiers and their orderly allies music to his ears.
Instead, all he had done thus far was wait. He had waited as myrmourn banshees soared across the skies, seeking traces of magic upon the winds aetheric, and now he waited as others more suited to subterfuge — both human and duardin — infiltrated this settlement, searching for the owner of the relic which the nighthaunt believed was here.
Stormcast eternals? Sigmarite priests? Some other servants of Order? Gharhakh didn't know in whose possession the relic would be, yet surely after binding the daemon which the Barbed King sought to unleash upon the Interstice, the enemy would not have left their prize in the hands of someone they could not trust.
Gharhakh understood that retrieval would take a delicate touch, and understood that he and his were not well suited to such endeavours. But that didn't mean he had to like it.
Moreover, a nighthaunt cruciator had already called dibs on torturing their foes until they gave in and turned over the bound daemon. It was infuriating; as a resident of the much-vaunted Tithe City of Calorag, which was called the City of Pain, Gharhakh felt sure that he would be much better suited to such a task than some mere gheist.
So if he was not to use his expertise in the art of torture, then what role was Gharhakh given in all this? Merely to sit on the sidelines, in case help was needed.
His warriors were no more pleased than he, twitching and snarling like impatient hounds, as their blood-drenched steeds slunk elegantly between the smattering of trees which grew off to one side of the town. Some warriors carried glaives, whilst others were armed only with jagged shards of bone which grew from their arms like natural lances.
Suddenly, something caught his attention. Gharhakh raised a hand and gave a wordless hiss, halting every man, woman and daemonic mount in their tracks. All heads followed his gaze, and soon savage grins were visible upon the faces of all those whose features were not obscured by brazen masks.
A small party of humanoids — only a half dozen or so — were leaving the settlement on foot, casting furtive glances all around. Swaddled in rags as they were, it was impossible to tell more about them. They could have been humans or aelves, but were a little short to be stormcast, and definitely too tall for duardin.
The band was headed directly for the woods in which Gharhakh and his warriors lurked. Though he had not brought his entire complement of riders along — as even a brute like he could recognise that a larger party would be more easily spotted — Gharhakh's force still outnumbered the ragged figures by almost two to one.
"Back." he instructed in a harsh, guttural whisper, waving for the riders to slink deeper into the woods. Their prey were headed directly towards them, no doubt thinking to lose themselves in the trees.
Were these people the guardians of the relic, who had caught on to the Bloodtide's operation? Or merely bystanders who had realised something was wrong in the settlement and hoped to flee before they were caught up in the fighting.
Gharhakh did not care. All thoughts of the plan had flown from his mind at the first sight of fresh meat. He and his warriors were going to have some fun here, and praise Khorne with each drop of blood they spilled and each skull they claimed.
The riders fell back, their steeds barely disturbing the twigs and fallen leaves that littered the ground as they passed — so unlike the hulking juggernauts that Khornate cavalry traditionally favoured — and their unwitting victims kept coming, racing for the apparent safety of the leafy boughs.
Only upon reaching the tree line did the humanoids slow their pace, breathing heavily from exertion and still casting glances over their shoulders in case they'd been followed.
Gharhakh waited until the last possible moment before launching the attack, keen to draw in the prey. Looking closely at the figures, he spotted the moment that one of them stiffened, catching the scent of fresh blood on the wind. In that instant, he dug his heels into his steed's flanks, and the lithe creature darted forwards, slipping between trees with an unearthly grace.
At his back, the rest of his warriors followed suit. Most of them did an admirable job of keeping silent — not wanting to alert the settlement to a Bloodtide presence nearby — with only a few roaring praises of Khorne at the top of their lungs. Not that it mattered much, for the second they showed themselves, the ragged band began screaming in terror. A quiet engagement, this was not.