Blood & Thunder
Pieter stretched his back, grimacing as his aching muscles screamed at him in pain. He mopped his brow as he surveyed his work. The field he had been working on all day was plowed and ready to be sown with seed. He reckoned his work was worth at least a handful of copper coins. Looking at it now, he was proud of the neat columns of dirt.
He pet his hoe on his shoulder and began walking towards the village, eager for a tankard to make the pain in his back go away. His shoe less feet sent up motes of dust in the hot, windless air. The dust settled on the sack cloth pants that he wore that didn't fit him properly and therefore he tied them at the waist with a short length of rope. The sweat that had gathered on his body started to dry, adding to his already potent stench. But Pieter didn't notice it, no one in the village knew what pleasant smelled like, so they settled for the smell of work and more work and worse food.
He approached the back of the tavern where everyone gathered after the days work. As he passed the stables, the only donkey in them "ee-awed" at him. Pieter muttered something about it being a flea infested krut bag. As he said it his chest itched. He reached and scratched it, passing it off as mere coincidence.
The tavern was warm inside, but the warmth wasn't welcome so late in the summer. The air was stifling, and made him uncomfortable, especially after a hard days work.
Greg, the taverns bouncer sat at a table by himself. Pieter joined him, Greg nodded at him but continued to nurse his tankard.
Pieter called to the barkeep, "an ale please."
The barkeep grumbled to himself, "like we serve anything else."
The sun had set and most of the village was inside the tavern. The mass of smelling peasants made the room even hotter. But the people were in good spirits. There was singing now and again but was cut off when someone fell over in their drunken stupor. Pieter was red in the face, enjoying the ale a little more than he should.
His chest itched again in the same spot but ignored it. The room grew quiet then, as the beat of hooves on the dirt road came round the tavern. There was also the unmistakable clinking of heavy armor. The people waited inside the tavern, unused to the noises that were being made. Some wondered if they were under attack
Then the door was kicked open. A knight stepped through it and grimaced as a wave of hot smelly air hit him. He looked around at the people in contempt. He cleared his throat to speak in a commanding manner, "We knights of the Holy Hammer of Sigmar have been stationed in this area." He looked to see if he had commanded the attention of the room, and was pleased to fin he had done so. "There have been several reports of a tribe of beastmen roaming the nearby forest, and we are here for your safety, and that of the Empire. In this matter we expect full cooperation"
Pieter didn't like the way the knight talked, he sounded to noble. Ten more of them followed the man into the room. They forced some locals away from their table and bellowed for strong spirits. The serving made hurried to do so.
People were leaving now, unable to cope with the obnoxious intruders. Pieter stayed though, he earned his right to a drink. The maid brought the drinks to the knights, they all looked into their tankards. One of them braved a sip and immediately sprayed it across the room.
"What is this piss-water!" he boomed. The others tipped their tankards onto the floor, now screaming for food. Pieter was about to leave when he saw one of the knights grab the maid and force her onto his lap. He started tugging at her blouse.
Pieter had to do something. He walked to the table where they sat and scratched his chest, which was itching again. The knights ignored him, being entertained by the maid. He cleared his throat even louder this time. They turned to him, sneering.
"Why don't you let 'er be?" He dared ask. The knights looked at each other and started laughing uproariously.
The one nearest Pieter stood up and looked at him, then wrinkled his nose. "Go take a bath you filthy rat." He said right before he delivered a hard blow to Pieter's chin. He landed on the floor, out cold.
Pieter woke up in a puddle. It had started raining in the night and he could still hear the knights inside the tavern. He groaned as he realized that the field he had plowed was going to be ruined, then again because his chin hurt so badly. He forced himself up and looked around. Surprisingly he could see well in the darkness of the night.
Pieter mover quickly to his home. It wasn't far from the tavern. Just a few buildings down from it. He needed to get dry. It was slippery along the road and he fell a few times, but he got to his small hut and hurried inside.
The door wasn't locked, it didn't need to be. Pieter had nothing to steal. He began to take of his wet clothes. He fumbled around the knot of the rope at his waste. The he took off his shirt. He scratched his itching chest again. He looked down at it to see if he'd been bitten by a bug. His face paled as he saw the stigmata of chaos on his chest. Then he blacked out.