Lord-Aquilor Helena Tempestborn was no stranger to warfare. Like the rest of the astral templars she was taken from one of the many tribes of humans that carved out a living, despite the dark gods tyranny, Nagash's machinations and the many many monsters and beasts that surrounded them. While the name of the tribe constantly eluded her last memory was the clearest memory of her past; riding alongside small group of horse riders in a last ditch attempt to buy their families time to escape from a rampaging chimera. The fact that she was now reforged as part of the god king's storm eternal attested to the fact that she had met her end with honour and her impressive battlefield record since her reforging attested to the fact that she worthy of the mantle of stormcast. Under her leadership dozens of tyrants and monsters had been cornered and slain.
The Abhorrent King known as King Marrow was her latest quarry.
King Marrow had been a menace to the denizens of the realm of Aqshy for far to long, cunning and, unlike many Abhorrent kings, devout to Nagash and for the past few months, a thorn in the Astral Templar's side. He had the audacity to abducted almost the entire population of a settlement. Helena knew that the captives would have very little time before King Marrow decided to hold his grand feast.
The Lord-Aquilor traced her quarry back to a decaying fortress hidden in mountains before she put her plan into action. Originally she was due reinforcements from the Extremis chamber, but King Marrow had placed baleful hexes which prevented her brothers and sisters from being emerging from the lightning from Azry. By the time they arrived, it would be too late and what few freeguilders remained from the raid on Franzburg would not be enough. Thankfully she wasn't the only one who wanted the Ghoul king dead and his foul court gone; a small clan of Duradin had been harrowed by the ghoul court, they had more than one grudge against them, particularly the warden King who was apparently drinking buddies with the captain of the town watch. He agreed to lead a assault on the fortress along with the vengeful remnants of the guards, drawing out the majority of the ghoul Kings fortress as well as his 'vassal' while the smaller, but nimbler, Vanguard host would flank round and attack the fortress with the goal of ideally killing Marrow and freeing the captives, however even if they could not do that then they would be in the ideal to administer the finishing blow to the flesh eater court.
The plan of attack for the StormCast was two fold, vanguard-hunters would move through the crags and approach the fortress from the east via crags and terrain that would be impassible for cavalry pass through while the Palladors would approach from the south, meanwhile raptors would get into position to support the Duradin who would be joined by the Palladors once they helped the Hunters deal with anything guarding the entrance.
And so Lord-Aquilor Helena rode fourth through the rocky fields littered with petrified trees alongside her Vanguard-Palladors atop Squall; her dark feathered Gryph-charger. Even though the same Hex that prevented her from receiving additional reinforcements also prevented her and her Palladors from transforming themselves into a ethereal wind, they were still well trained in the art of moving through rough terrain silently and stealthily. Her riders sprinted swiftly over the plains on steeds with similar pelts and plumage under the dusk sky. Along side them a pack of Gryph-hounds would keep pace with their masters, eager to hunt down their quarry.
As she crouched low in the saddle she could hear the sounds of the Duradin's struggle and even smell the rank scent of blood and gunpowder blown across the dry wastes thanks to her blessed senses. She had heard the bloodcurdling scream of a terrorgheist before it was cut short by a chain of thunderous cannon shots, followed by the equally thunderous cheer as another grudge was settled by the Duradin.
"The Duradin better not get all the glory this evening." She heard one of her brothers utter, Alric the Pallador Prime to be precise. Alric was one of the younger leaders within Helena's strike force, despite this he had quickly proven himself on multiple occasions, however his hot headedness held him back. One day he would gain control of his temper and perhaps even rise to become a Lord-Aquilor himself. For now though he acted as one of Helena's Lieutenants.
The Lord-Aquilor gave what some might a mother hen look from underneath her warhelm.
"There will be opportunities for glory, Alric." She chided sternly. "But don't forget our duties."
Alric was undoubtedly a talented warriors and was more than capable of holding his own but he still possessed a hot headedness which would one day send him to the anvil if he wasn't careful. Though he was making progress it was slow and Helena wondered if he would end up learning the hard way.
Alric was about to make some sort of comment in reply to the Lord-Aquilor when the sickly scent of decaying flesh suddenly hit the Stormcast, their enhanced senses meant that they caught the scent far sooner than many mortals would have. On the horizon a trio of grotesque muscular forms could be seen, alongside them were a pack of hounds, though they were more bones that flesh as what little scaps of muscle, fur, and skin remained clung onto them in ragged, irregular patches.
"Looks like we found our first of enemy; Mordant horrors accompanied by Dire Wolves, figures that Nagash would give them more beasts for their Menagerie." One Pallador spat. "We won't be able to avoid them, we'll have to go through them." Alric noted, his grip already shifting on his javelin. "Agreed." Helena nodded before giving her orders. "Strike hard and Strike fast, bring down the horrors first before we hit the wolves."
All of her riders nodded as they rode towards the first of their enemies. Helena readied her heavy boltStorm pistol. Behind her, Alric's Pallador prepared to release their Javalin's as they rode towards the enemy. The Mordants had now begun to realise that they now had company, and the decaying hounds began to bay and bark, but it was too late for the Maroon armoured stormcast where upon them.
"For Sigmar!" Helena roared as Javlins flew over her head as the rest of the riders roared a wordless battlecry. The time for stealth and silently tracking their prey was over. The enemy would soon know that the Astral Templar's were upon them, and that that divine retribution had now come.
One of the Horrors called out, to the deluded creature its voice must have sounded proud and noble, but in reality he shouted in a gravely voice. "Haaalt in the name of King-" A surprised grunt interrupted its order as a Javelin pinned him to the ground, the lightning charged weapon fried the Ghoul alive. The second horror suffered the same fate as he was impaled by two more Javelins along with three of the direwolves who's pained yelps and howls joined their dying masters cries. The third crypt horror managed to avoid javalin's and began to lurch towards the Riders with unnatural agility.
Helena calmly aimed down the sights of the handheld crossbow. Even though the ghoul was moving at close to blinding speed, to Helena it moved in slow motion thanks to her blessed reflexes. She could make out ever bone that stuck out of its flesh and it's bloodshot eyes, she could count every rotting tooth and every piece of flesh stuck in them before she squeezed the trigger. In an instant a bolt flew out of the Boltstorm pistol, it shrieked through the air before it tore through the horror's torso. The ghoul suddenly halted in surprise and pain as the Lord-Aquilor drew her blade. The rune inscribed blade shimmered as it swung through the air with the grace of a weapon crafted by the six smiths. The Ghoul's head came free of its neck as foul black blood sprayed through the air.
With the Horrors now dead the Stormcast turned their attention to the remaining Direwolves. Two of them bounded towards the Lord-Aquilor, their teeth flashing in the moonlight. Quickly she brought her boltstorm pistol to bear before firing in rapid succession, forsaking accuracy for volume of fire. Three out of five of the bolts where off target, only kicking up dust as they buried into the dry soil, but the second and fifth bolts struck true; the first smashed through the skull of one of the undead beasts before pinning its now unmoving body to the ground via its left leg, the second ripped through the second beast's torso.
As this happened her brothers and sisters struck swiftly, with strokes of their axes they shattered bone and sliced through flesh, as their steeds began to savage the wolves with beaks, claws and on occasions hoofs, as they sqwarked in anger, Squall himself was busy snapping the neck of one dire wolf while his rider was busy firing. The Gryph-hounds also assisted as they dragged down a particular large specimen, ruthlessly tearing it apart.
A loud curse suddenly cut through the sounds of battle, Alric. Helena spun round to see that the Pallador prime had been knocked off his saddle and pinned to the ground by one of the last of the dire wolves, his War-helm also knocked off, revealing a mane of wild red hair. Helena brought her BoltStorm pistol to bare and was about to shoot the beast off him before his mount intervened. The Gryph-Charger swung its claw, knocking the wolf off him. Alric quickly got to his feet and before the undead wolf could rise he severed its neck with a swing of his axe.
Helena allowed Alric to catch his breath. "Are you alright?" She asked. Alric turned round with a jovial smile. "I'm alright, despite things getting a little too interesting." He replied as he got back onto his steed. "Anyway, lets not tarry any longer."
It only took Helena a few moments to lead her brothers and sisters to the entrance of the fortress, a decrepit Keep surrounded by the occasional skull or chewed bone, a hint of what fate those that were dragged into it.
The majority of the fortress was underground as it was Duradin creation. It was built on behalf of a long forgotten human civilisation which eventually fell to the fury of Khrone before century's later would be driven off by the Stormcast.
Awaiting them was the hunters, wearing grey pelts and white plumed war helms, and a dozen Ghoul corpses.
Helena scowled slightly in puzzlement. Though she was undoubtedly glad that the hunters had been able to wipe out the mordants without their assistance; she had been expecting at least double their number. Then was the fact that they had been ordered to wait for the Palladors, an order which they could not obey for whatever reason.
She wasn't particularly reassured when she saw that the hunter prime was leaning against the wall, his leg bloodied as one of his brothers crouched next to him as the Lord-Aquilor rode up to him.
"What happened?"
The Hunter-Prime, a cleanly shaven Stormcast with sun kissed skin named Garik, looked up before he answered. "They had a damn Dire wolf as a guard dog. Smelt us, alerting the guards and forced us to engage them. Got unlucky and got stabbed in the knee, I'll live but I won't be fighting for the rest of today at the very least."
Helena clicked her tongue, the rescue of the mortals taken by the flesh-eater court was undoubtedly paramount, however aiding her allies was equally important. Originally she had intended that Garik lead the rescue party as he was the most experienced and most suitable, now that he was effectively out of action Helena would have to take over for him. While she didn't doubt Alric's competence, she didn't want to thrust such responsibilities at such a pivotal moment on him unexpectedly. At that moment another Vanguard approached her with an Aetherwing on his arm.
"Lord-Aquilor; Ironeye's raptors report that the battle goes well, but the enemy is proving stubborn." He stated. "They would still welcome the Palladors."
Lord-Aquilor Helena made her decision. "Alric, you lead the Palladors to the battle, work on concert with the Duradin to finish off the foe." She commanded before she dismounted Squall. She gently patted the Gryph-Charger's neck. "You stay here and look after our brother along with the hounds." She told Squall, receiving a affirming squawk before he moved over to Garik's side, while the Gryph-hounds followed him.
"Are you certain, Lord-Aquilor?" Helena looked over her shoulder at Alric who had spoken in a questioning tone.
"I trust your abilities Pallador-Prime." Helena answered confidently, casting away any doubt that her decision was final. "Go, make the god king proud."
Alric nodded before he rode fourth, the rest of the Palladors close behind him. The thunder of hoofs quickly quietened to a mere rumble before finally being obscured by the thunderous sounds of the Duradin's battle.
Helena watched in silence before she turned to the Vanguard-Hunters.
"Come, it's time we end this hunt." She said as she walked towards the entrance of the keep, the darkness and the stench of blood, rot and death welcomed them, as it had welcomed many a unfortunate soul who had met a grim end.
Helena was determined that only the unhappy ending written today would be for the wretched court.
This place was no stranger to monsters.
After it's original occupants were torn apart by the bloodthirsty forces of chaos, the bloodreavers settled in its cavernous halls. This once bastion of hope now became a home for those that worshiped the terrible might of the blood god. From it the red armoured hordes pour out of its gates to despoil, conquer and slaughter in the name of their dark patron. With his names on their lips they committed innumerable atrocities, those that stood and fought against the Bloodbounc were cut down with mercy. Those that surrendered or could not fight against them faced a far grimmer fate as they were trussed up with barbed chains and dragged back to the keep. There they would be ritualistically butchered, or forced to fight to the death in spike ringing arenas. Whatever their fate, their blood and skulls were dedicated to Khrone.
For years it was thus, and for years the denizens of this region watch the plains with fearful eyes, hoping that they would never hear the earth shuddering drumming of brass hoofs and the blood thirsty battle chants. They believed that no mortal army could hope to dislodge them from their holdings, no guard could stop their murderous rampages. They became careless and over confident.
That changed with the arrival of the Storm eternal. Though the forces of chaos had been expecting a counter attack by Sigmar, the blood reavers had been caught off guard by the fury of the Stormcast. On the plains they clashed with the Astral Templars. The battle was short and bloody as mounted Stormcast from the Extremis chamber cut through madmen and butchers, all the while Drakesworn-Templars ripped through the once believed invincible skull-crushers.
Despite a decisive victory the bloodreavers managed to survive albeit barely. Realising that they could not hope to match the Stormcast in open battle, there only saving grace was that their fortress was not located, they were forced to perform hit and fade attacks until their kin could break through and reinforcement them. Yet they were ill-suited for this type of warfare, and to make matters worse the Stormcast now protected the settlements which were once easy targets. With each raid fewer and fewer warriors returned, the returns of even the few successful raids were mediocre at best.
Things truly began to collapse when the Lord who had led them, a tyrant known as the bloodied Lord, was struck down. He did not die in a glorious duel with a champion of order, but by a musket bullet from a humble guard. With the unifying Bloodied Lord killed in such a humiliating fashion, infighting took hold of the Bloodbound as they fought for each other for control of what remained of the horde as Khrone's favour left them. The Stormcast had mostly left save for a small force, needed elsewhere in the realms, though in their place, freeguild soldiers were left to garrison the settlements. Though not as formidable as the Stormcast they were still a force to be reckoned with, especially when supported by the Duradin.
All the while King Marrow had been watching. The ghoul king had wished to serve Nagash in Aqshy and deemed that securing the fortress would be a good start. And so in the dead of a dry autumn night he attacked the fortress with his court. What was left of the reavers were suddenly torn apart in a whirlwind of dirty nails and yellowed teeth. All the sigils of Khrone were cast down and replaced with king marrow's own banners and the Alter dedicated to the Blood god was replaced by a glorious throne, made of the bones of the Bloodbound.
Even though Nagash had only passing interest in the region, he was pleased with the King and gifted him with dire-wolves and other fell gifts before giving him new orders; sow terror across the land.
And so a new reign of terror set in. Men, women and children would go missing while traveling or even dragged from their own homes. Witch hunters and captains who attempted to investigate joined them. The Duradin managed to bring them to battle but suffered heavily losses themselves. With each passing night the list of victims grew, until finally the Marrow King attacked the town of Franzburg, snatching its occupants for his grand banquet. However like the Bloodreavers before him he got careless, and now the Duradin and the Astral Templar's had found his hideaway.
Yet his deeds had not only attracted Nagash's favour, and the Astral Templar's ire, but the attention of someone, or rather something, else.
To those that dwelled in the mortal realms, she was alien, she was a stranger in the truest sense of the word. To those that heralded from her home she was a ghost from a long gone age, a veteran of the old war now returned to fight in a new age of conflict. To some he was a hero, a symbol of freedom and hope. To others she was a killer, whose sole purpose was to seek and destroy.
Tonight she was an agent of vengeance. She had watched King Marrow's atrocities for too long, but each moment she had, she gathered knowledge about his prey. Now she put that knowledge to good use.
Slowly he drifted through halls of the court, moving in silence like a pale spectre. Those abominations that had the misfortune of stumbling across her would be swiftly dispatched with Yellow ribboned Spira and masterful strokes of her Nikana. He made her way slowly towards the inner sanctum. Despite the opposition to her, she came closer and closer to her objective.
Tonight she would demonstrate why those with wicked hearts and served wicked causes feared the Tenno.
Helena and her hunters advanced through the tunnels. Though encased in Sigmarite plating they moved with no more noise than they made in their mortal lives when they hunted beasts in the wilds in the name of survival.
The tunnels bore little, if not any, of the iconography of the original builders of the place or the Bloodreavers that conquered it before meeting their end at the hands of the flesh-eater court. Instead the halls were decorated with the rotting remains of their victims which where mounted like the animal head which some mortal lords stuffed and hung as trophies. Morbid banners made of flesh and bones hung, proudly displaying the crudely painted coat of arms of King Marrow.
Occasionally the Stormcast would stumble across the gnawed bones of victims, along with various traps both mundane and magical, thankfully their training as well as the slap-dash construction of these traps meant that they were avoidable or could be disarmed with relative ease.
The foul decorations would have spread fear and dread into a mortal's heart, but they only served to strengthen Helena's resolve. These... abominations had murdered humans and Duradin and flaunted their remains like they were trophy kills. She cooled her temper; she would get vengeance for those that had been killed and rescue any survivors from this festering pit, but she wouldn't do it blinded by anger.
However as they descended deeper and deeper, something became more and more obvious; the silence. By now they should have encountered at least one patrol of ghouls, yet they heard no scurrying, no sounds of nails and claws scrabbling at the ground, no call to arms.
Just silence.
Finally one of her brothers made the statement everybody was thinking but dared not say. "Its too quiet... where did they all go?
"I doubt the answer is going to be a pleasant one." Helena mused as concern gnawed at the back of the Lord-Aquilor's mind. In her mortal life silence was rarely a comfort; it often meant that something incredibly dangerous was lurking nearby, waiting for anything it could all prey. Her instincts, honed by two lifetimes of hunting and fighting, told her that they weren't alone.
They encountered their first ghoul once they turned the corner; dead.
The creature was curled up on the ground like a dead spider, its wiry arms and legs and hunched body reinforcing the resemblance. It's expression was one of fearful surprise; it had seen its killer. A long, slender, arrowhead like blade with a bright Yellow ribbon tied to the end, most likely a throwing knife of some description, was jammed into its throat.
Helena crouched down and removed the knife less-than carefully from the Ghoul's corpse before she began to inspect it. It seemed to be made of steel, or something akin to it, at first glance yet it was lightweight for its size. The distinctive shape was like nothing she had seen; at first she thought it was of Aelven origin, but the more she looked at it, the more she realised that its style was unlike any Aelven weapon she had seen. She couldn't smell any poison on it which further disproved her original suspicions; most Aelven assassins preferred to coat their blades in toxins to maximise the lethality of each strike.
After wiping the blood from the blade, tested its sharpness by carefully dragging it across her gauntleted palm. It carved a shallow groove in its wake, not a small feat considering Helena's armour was made of one of the strongest materials known to the mortal realms.
"This was designed to puncture armour and flesh." She thought aloud as she held the throwing blade before her. "It's well crafted; I wouldn't be surprised if it could pierce our own plate if thrown with enough force and at the correct angle."
"That not the only corpse." The hunter who had spoken before motioned down the hallway to see half at least thirteen dead ghouls laying in varying positions. Some had fallen victims of identical yellow ribboned knives, the blades having buried deep into their flesh. Others had been killed with a sword if the wounds where what they seemed to be. More than one had been bisected, cut cleanly in half.
The most troubling fact was that whatever had done this was seemingly heading towards the inner sanctum, which was close to where the surviving townspeople would be held.
"We move swiftly." She ordered as she rose to her feet, she place the blade in a pouch on her belt. "Whatever else is here, we cannot allow it to harm any survivors from Franzburg."
—
The Warframe stood above the Tenno's latest kill; a large hulking mordant with wings for arms. Once it had been the apex predator, the last thing many a human or any other race that occupied this strange world. It would be unfair to say that it or its now headless kin didn't put up a fight, but in the end the Tenno was the victor as the beast attempt to crawl away.
She put it out of its misery by stabbing it through the heart. It ceased its movements before the Tenno pulled the blade free and slid it back into its scabbard before moving forwards, her Shade keeping pace. One would expect that controlling a Warframe would be a disorienting experience, if it once was then it was lost in the depths of her memory.
It only took a short while of moving before he found something that she had not encountered before as he made his way through this fortress of atrocities; an ornate archway which lead to a balcony which seemed to overlook a large hall of some description. While he had no exact description of the inner sanctum but she would happily bet credits that she had found it.
Her target was most likely in that hall, though she wouldn't doubt for a moment that the king would not have some sort of protection in the form of bodyguards. If he did then they would most likely be the some of the strongest he had available. And that was before he considered any of the supernatural powers at its disposal.
Of course she had something which looked like a plan, though admittedly it was only somewhat better than just leaping into the room.
He detached the Braton Prime from her back, he took a moment to admire the ebony black casing and silver gilding. Even though she had no love for the Orokin, even she had to admit that their engineering was as beautiful as it was effective. It was a shame that it was often used to destroy. She pulled back the charging handle, a soft clockwork clunk announced that the rifle was now chambered, armed and dangerous.
She took a brief pause before she surged forwards, throwing himself off the balcony. As soon as he was airborne she activated her Warframe cloak, she flickered out of sight. She looked over the hallway as she glided over it. Below her the king, sitting on a throne made of bones, along with two hulking winged ghouls like the two he dispatched along with a monstrous bat like creature looked upwards away from the corpses on the banquet table that dominated the room in startled confusion as they looked for the mysterious intruder.
The Tenno drew her sights on King Marrow's head before she glided over him, the clammy grey skinned ghoul's eyes darted around as it snarled. She doubted that this was going to go as she originally envisioned, but she was committed now. Thankfully improvisation was a lesson a lot of Tenno picked up quickly.
The Tenno began to depress the trigger, bringing her back into the visible spectrum.
The Hunters had now abandoned stealth in exchange for haste, though they were still vigilant for traps. Now they had to contend with a mysterious intruder, or intruders, who was well equipped and had unknown intentions. For a chamber which not only gathered information and utilised it to their advantage, an unknown variable was the last thing they wanted. The usual response to situations like this was to assume the worst case scenario was unfolding. In this case the worst case scenario suggested that the townspeople were being targeted by this killing machine and the Flesh Eater court was just in its way.
So far they had not encountered any living ghouls, however corpses became quiet common. The signs of the intruder's handiwork was clear. To Helena, whoever or whatever did this had to be well trained and experience. Each wound was precisely targeted to be fatal, those that weren't were intended to cripple, allowing the assailant to finish of their foe at their leisure.
The observation that they had amassed a such a high kill count, seemingly without alerting the Mordants, even more credence to this terrifying fact.
The Stormcast eventually came to a locked, and sturdy looking door at a cross junction. Even though the intruder had come through here, their trail veered off as a quick glance to right saw that another dead ghoul was further down the hallway, she couldn't see the throwing blades which had punctured other ghouls so she guessed that it had died in close quarters combat.
It seemed they were not able to get the door open, and so had been forced to go around in order to find another way. A small blessing as it meant that they had been delayed though gut instinct told Helena that they had only lost a little time.
"Door is clear of traps, should we break through?"
Before the Lord-Aquilor could answer the hunter's question silence was broken. A series of sharp, staccato, bangs tore through the air, a faint whine underlying the chain of what Helena suspected to be gunshots. Feral snarls, a inhuman shriek, the sound of wood breaking and plates shattering joined a suddenly crowded soundscape.
The intruder had found the Inner sanctum, time was running out if the Stormcast wanted to reach the survivors before they did.
"We can no longer be subtle! Break through!" The Lord-Aquilor ordered, throwing the last vestiges of stealth out of the window. "Be ready to fire down the hallway."
One hunter stepped forwards before he gripped the door handle and with a grunt of effort pulled the door inwards destroying the lock and wrenching it off its hinges, and stepping out of the way giving his brothers and sister a line of fire. A pack of ghouls were scurrying down the hallway away from the Stormcast, aiming to aid their king. One looked over its shoulder only to be met by a hail of bolts which tore it and the others apart.
The Stormcast wasted little time and even as the last of the ghouls were cut down they rushed down the hallway, their heavy footsteps announcing their presence. Yet even they were downed out the the sound of the intruders struggle with the last of the flesh-eater court.
Within a few moments the hunters had reached a walkway which overlooked the inner sanctum, a grand feasting hall festooned with more of King Marrow's morbid banners and chairs decorated with the bones, though the table was broken in two and what must have been the throne was shedded apart. King Marrow himself was in the centre of the room, close to the now shattered long table, along side two Infernal Courters and a grey furred Varghulf Courtier. All four of them where looking around, eyes flashing angrily as they looked for the unknown assailant. Helena motioned for her brothers to remain hidden in the shadows the walk way; taking on the King and his entourage would be too risky, even more so with the still undermined nature of the unknown assailant.
Something caught Helena's eye, a flickering in the periphery of her vision. She saw a figure materialise into existence on the far side of the room clung to the wall like a sprite.
The assassin appeared to be female, judging by her build. It seemed to be covered in some sort of strange organic, ash grey, armour with oche highlights. Its head was covered by a large white hood and its face seemed to be cover by a mask which had a single diamond shaped eye which glowed with a deep blue light. On its shoulders seemed to be a number of arrow shafts, which was strange because it bore no bow.
On it hips was a long, slender, sword with leaf engraving and a jewellery chain on its hilt. Joining it was two pouches of those distinctive Yellow throwing blades.
Helena trawled through her experience forged through nearly countless deployments across the mortal realms as well as the few memories she had of her mortal life, yet she could not identify what the assassin was.
The assassin aimed her weapon at the ghoul king, who along with the Varghulf and one of the Courtiers were unaware of the whereabouts of the threat to the king. One of the Courtiers realised however that the assassin was preparing to open fire and with a snarl of fear it pushed the king of of the way before the intruder could fire.
The moment the intruder pull the trigger the rifle suddenly unleashed a storm of bullets. The Lord-Aquilor was aware of firearms which could fire multiple rounds in rapid succession, however most of these weapons were either crossbows, like the Boltstorm pistols and the repeating bows used by Aelven Corsairs, or multi-barrelled which used a complex mechanism. This weapon had only one barrel and was seemingly only slightly more bulky than the repeating rifles used by the engineering guilds, yet its fire rate was comparable to them, maybe even surpassing them.
The rounds fired had a devastating effect on the courtier; they pierced its leathery hide and tore through the creature with viscous ease. The barrage was short but brutal as the courtier was left with a dozen holes decorating its body. Yet thanks to its unnatural resilience it still lived. It loosed a shrieking roar of rage before charging the assailant, followed by its fellow courtiers.
The assailant dropped down from the wall so that it was now standing on the ground though not for long as it was soon moving rapidly in order to evade the hulking ghoul. The courtier roared its fury and attempted to tear the assassin apart, swinging wildly with filthy claws, the assassin however simply just ducked and weaved with grace that would rival that of an Aelf.
It rolled under one strike, quickly springing to their feet before it raise her rifle and opened fire once more, at point blank range. This time it aimed right at the ghoul's heart, the disciplined burst of gunfire had a lethal effect on the Ghoul as it was effectively eviscerated its vital organs.
Before the mutilated corpse hit the stone floor the second Infernal courtier attempted to pounce on the assassin who once again dodged gracefully out of the way. However the following flurry of claws put the assassin on the defence as it was forced into the centre of the room, the Vargulf carefully watching, waiting for the a moment to strike. King Marrow was also watching for a opportunity to utilise his magic, knowing full well that it could be just as deadly to his allies as his foe.
The assassin shifted backwards, once again being forced to take up the defensive, however Helena noted from her vantage point in the shadows that it did not seem panicked, every movement was expending minimal energy. While it had obviously favoured a decisive kill on the ghoul king, it had now realised that it had now engaged its courtiers and had to go through them.
The Assassin took one of its throwing knives and threw it into the ghoul's foot as it ducked under a wild swipe. The ghoul howled in pain from the surprise strike, as the assassin rose its rife and fired its third barrage, reducing its head to a red mist before it even had a chance to recover.
The Assassin stood up just as the Vargulf surged forward with a primal scream. It leapt as it swung its wicked claws. The assassin spun round and aimed the gun in one smooth motion before it pulled the trigger.
Click.
The Assassin was smashed aside into one of the walls of the hall with bone shattering force, the rifle flew out of their hands, clattering away from the assassin. Helena saw a blue flickering as the assassin slid to the ground. At first she though that it was dead from the impact, even a Stormcast would have to see a Lord-Relicor before they could continue to fight, if they weren't sent back to the soul mills for reforging. However the assassin simply just picked itself of the ground as though nothing had happened.
The Vargulf screamed its blood-thirsty rage, apparently annoyed that the assassin had managed to survive blow, before it charged forwards. It's claws raking the stone floor. The assassin was not still however and a strange curving bow materialised in its hand in golden light. With a swift motion it pulled back on the bow as three arrows of blue light came into existence before it released its string. The arrows cut through the air in a horizontal spread before the centre arrow t struck the Vargulf. The arrow detonated, bisecting the bestial vampire in a messy fashion. Just leaving the assassin and the ghoul king.
The king was about to chant some sort baleful incantation, intending to condemn the assassin to a grisly death. However the remaining two arrows arced around the Vargulf and lanced towards King Marrow.
It was sufficient to say that King Marrow was reduced to a puddle of blood.
The assassin briefly looked at its handywork as the bow dissipated, vanishing from its hands just as swiftly as it came. It immediately went to retrieve its rifle.
Helena knew that this assassin was unlike anything that had been seen before, it could put the infamous Clan Eshin operatives to shame and outclass the shadowblades. It could both perform convert operations and perform well in open combat. There was only one question: just what was it's purpose.
It suddenly snapped its head towards the Vanguard's position. Its 'eye' remained fixed before it attached its rifle to it back before lowering its hands to its twin pouches. It took a step back towards the only way out of the inner sanctum, a doorway which was lacking a intact door.
Helena quickly realised that it had now become aware that it was not the lone survivor in the room, but it was not certain about the nature of the other beings in the room. It wasn't striking out and initiating a fight, which may be avoidable. With it not moving a muscle Helena realised that she was going to have to confront the Assassin.
"Half stay up here, half with me." Helena ordered her hunters, after she received a nod from each of the hunters she stood up and vaulted over the barrier. She heard the stale air whistle past her ears before she landed with a heavy thud. She stood up as she was joined by the other half of the cohort. For a moment the assassin and the Lord-Aquilor were merely sizing each other up before Helena broke the silence.
"Who are you?"
The assassin did not respond verbally but instead sprinted through the exit of the inner sanctum.
Helena curse before she sprinted after the assassin, she could not allow the assassin free reign while there was survivors. She had seen what it was capable was, and even though it had killed king Marrow and seemingly any ghoul between it and him, but there was no guarantee that he was its only target.
The assassin dashed through the hallways, managing to keep one step ahead of the Stormcast, though the hunters were nipping at her heels, despite the sigmarite plate each one of them wore. Through the twisted maze of bone strew hallways Helena chased the assassin along with her hunters, like a pack of wolves they refused to let their quarry escape. Yet long after mortals would have collapsed in exhaustion, all of the participants were still running.
However eventually they came to a dead end, a barred room which contained the remaining survivors of Franzburg, and the Assassin suddenly put on a burst of speed towards the cell. Suddenly Helena had a nasty thought; what if the assassin's target was a citizen of Franzburg and it had killed the Ghoul King because he was in its way? Helena swore violently and and ran with all she could muster, but it wouldn't be enough.
The assassin suddenly leapt into the air, men, women and children suddenly recoiled away from the bars, scampering away from this unknown entity that the Stormcast had been chasing. It placed its feet on the bars before springing off them over the Lord-Aquilor's head and onto the wall before it ran along it past the stunned hunters. It landed behind its pursuers before it ran into the shadows, its form flickering before it disappeared like a ghost.
Frightened mutters and fearful murmurs were drowned out by Helena's thoughts. While she was relieved by the fact that the assassin's mark wasn't the townspeople, just why did it target King Marrow? What did it hope to achieve?
She pushed those thoughts to the side, those questions would have to go unanswered and the assassin would have to go free... for now at least. Right now she had to finish her duties.
She removed her helm, revealing her weather beaten face to the scared and weak survivors. Calm blue eyes surveyed them, noting every wound and illness and mentally composing a list of items they would need to gather.
"It's time we left this place." She announced, eliciting whoops of joy and relived sighs from the survivors.
The Tenno sat on the rock as she watched the camp of Stormcast and their allies through the eyes of her Warframe.
It had been about 12 hours since she had completed her mission. On paper it was a complete success, the abomination's king had been removed from the board, permanently, and from what she had heard the ghouls themselves had been completely wiped out and no longer posed a immediate threat.
Yet for her that victory had come through luck rather than cunning and skill. She could have gotten herself killed easily on more than one occasion. For starters her less than subtle entrance into her mark's room could have gone sideways despite her Warframe's cloaking systems. This had caused her to squander a quick kill on the ghoul king. She then failed to properly keep track on the ammo counter and was only saved by her shielding, not ideal due to her Warframe's fragile nature, she had to waste more energy in order to bring the fight to a swift end using her Artemis bow.
Then there was her first encounter with the Stormcast.
She was not completely unaware of the Storm eternal; she had listened to story tellers as they wove tales of warriors created by Sigmar from the souls of fallen heroes with the intention of beating back the forces of death, destruction and chaos. Of course this was the first time she had come face to face with one, a Lord-Aquilor by the name of Helena. From what she inferred Helena was the head of a recon branch of her Stormhost.
Whatever the truth, the Tenno had decided to keep herself hidden from them until she had managed to glean more reliable information, though she had also done it as she felt that, even though their end goals were similar, her methods greatly differed from the Stormcast's. The Tenno could never fight an open war like the Stormcast could, instead they fought using guerrilla tactics, slowly bleeding them out using hit-and-fade attacks and fighting dirty should the need come apparent. She felt like the Stormcast would naturally mistrust a operative who they knew nothing about.
Even if it hadn't been Stormcast in the gallery, she had allowed herself to get tunnel vision and failed to sense her observers. It was her luck that they had arrived to rescue those that had been taken by the Abominations.
Which lead her to her final mistake of the evening, though admittedly it was more bad luck. Even though she had managed to escape the Stormcast she may have left a bad impression when she accidentally frightened the living daylights out of the survivors. Remaining silent about herself may have been another mistake.
That was why she had decided to shadow them from afar, and eavesdrop. She was undoubtedly going to be sharing breathing space with them until she figured out a way back home. the Naramon way dictated that knowledge of your allies was just as valuable as knowledge about your enemies; being able to know their next move would be useful whether they were the former or the latter.
She had found a perch on the field of rocks at the boarder of the camp; it was well shaded from the baleful glare of the sun and provided good concealment should her Warframe's cloak fail. She remained aware of the position of camp sentries as well as the birdlike beasts which acted as a second line of defence (she made a mental note to check if she had any desert skate jerky for her Kubrow).
From what she had heard the battle had gone poorly for the abominations, resulting in their annihilation. At first they held the upper hand until the stubby humanoids known as the Duradin killed one of their monsters with a lucky cannon barrage. Even though they managed to cling on after that, a surprise attack from the rear effectively ended the battle in the allied forces favour.
After that it was reports on the numbers of causalities, the state of the survivors, efforts to ensure that none of them succumbed to sickness or the heat as well as alleviate any trauma they had suffered, requests for a high ranking Duradin to see one of the guard captains, and various theories on the enigmatic assassin. She paid close attention to these, even though they were sometimes outlandish, she knew that some would have shreds of truth. One of the most common ones she heard involved Nagash, a god whom she had learned that other gods and goddesses were interested in seeing either brought to heel or killed, others said that she was affiliated to chaos, untrue since she was fairly certain that all of the syndicates and clan warlords would put a kill order on the everchosen's head for just one of his atrocities, she only admitted it to herself but being labelled by the townspeople demon stung. The final prevalent theory was that she was some sort of otherworldly spirit seeking vengeance against those that had wronged it, including Nagash. Though like the rest it was a shot in the dark, she felt like there was some truth.
She was more than just human... the void had changed her in more ways she could name.
The Tenno's attention was drawn away from the rumour mill when she spotted the Lord-Aquilor, she had taken of her helmet revealing a woman with fair skin and black hair with small flecks of grey. Despite her age there was an air of strength, the years of life had not slowed her in the slightest.
It her armoured hands she held a Spira blade. The Lord-Aquilor inspected the Tenno-crafted weapon with a keen eye. The Tenno knew that she had become a person of interest to the Stormcast, she had little doubt that the Vanguard chamber taught similar lessons about the value of intelligence that Naramon doctrines focused on.
The Lord-Aquilor, Helena, was approached by another Stormcast, a Male, judging by his armour the Tenno guessed that he was a squad leader, or a prime.
"Lord-Aquilor Helena." He said, bowing his head respectfully as Helena turned the blade in her hands, hoping that she would find something that would link the blade to something familiar. A sensible line of inquiry given what she didn't know.
"Alric." The Lord-Aquilor replied. "What brings you here."
"You've been looking at that blade for the past hour, Vira and her sisters were getting worried, along with the rest of your brothers and sisters."
Helena sighed. "Truthfully, this bothers me." She held up the Spira.
Alric was certain of what she was implying. "The assassin? It didn't attack any of the townspeople."
"That does not guarantee its intentions are benign."
"It doesn't prove that its intent is malicious either."
Helena smiled, seemingly pleased that her subordinates had offered a good counter. "True, still, it is an unknown entity who could match us in combat. Not to mention it was able to cheat the magic disrupting Hexes given to king Marrow." She said as the smile disappeared. "We cannot remain ignorant of it."
"Then what is our next move." The Prime asked, the Tenno paid full attention to Helena's answer.
"I have informed other Lords operating in the area as well as Hammerhal, though we aren't in the High-Magister's immediate jurisdiction, it would be best to warn him if the assassin begins to turn its sights on the first-city, besides he may know something we don't."
A idea suddenly stuck Alric. "Lord-Aquilor, is there mages who are versed in the lore of metal in Hammerhal?"
"I believe there are." Helena answered. "And they may be able to understand what this blade is made out of. Possibly giving us something close to an answer." She smiled again. "I'll send it with the report, who knows, perhaps Aventis may uncover something we missed."
Having heard what she needed to hear, the Tenno began to slip away from the encampment. She now knew that Helena intended to actively seek answers regarding the Tenno. It was not the ideal outcome but it was the most likely one. Besides she may be able to turn it into an advantage, she was going to be here for a while longer and she would appreciate an ally. However she was still sorely lacking good intel to know if an Alliance was truly wise.
"Prepare for the worse, but hope for the best." The Tenno said under her breath as the Ivara-class Warframe disappeared from the camp's view.
AN: so this was created because I wanted to know how another superhuman would react to a space ninja XD. I was also looking into some of the lore behind the age of Sigmar (admittedly it a bit hit or miss compared to its forbearer, some of it is a bit meh while other parts are prety good) so that is why I ended up choosing the mortal realms. This will probably stay a one-shot since I have no idea which way I want to take this story, but I will proably do something warframe related.
Anyway please review and favourite and have a nice day. bye!