(Late) Author's Note: Mincemaker here. This is my first attempt at a Warhammer fiction, and as of writing, I had already written twelve chapters. I am taking this opportunity to reread and revise all that I had written, since I do not have the fortune of having an editor to help me out with that. Anyway, I claim no ownership for anything in the Warhammer IP. Seriously. It belongs to Games Workshop. I'm using the rich world of Warhammer and the concepts to write a story of my own.
Criticisms, comments and suggestions are appreciated. In fact, please criticise to your heart's content, so long as it does not devolve into a personal attack. No author has ever improved without some intense grilling over his writing now, hasn't it?
Also, as you notice, this story is rated M. No, this is not a mistake. As the story progresses, death tolls will soar, corpses will be desecrated, heretics will be burnt, along with other horrifying things. We can't have Warhammer without gruesome death and sanity-blasting horror now, can we?
13/2/2: Did some proofreading. Send PM if any more mistakes I missed is found. Also suggest better phrasing for any dodgy sentences.
14/12/28: Currently suffering from a writer's block so I decide to reread my work again, among other things. I found, again, that the prologue was quite taxing to read. For that, I believe I owe my readers an apology. I should have rewritten the prologue a long time ago. Well, I rewrote it this time. I hope the revised version is easier on the eyes.
The Bloody Hand
Act I: Salzenmund
Prologue
It was a night of ill omens. Though Mannslieb was the more brilliant twin, it was Morrslieb, the Chaos Moon, which dominated the heavens above. Its eerie glow caressed the rooftops and streets of Salzenmund (1), the town below. Only the more secluded corners escaped its touch.
In one such place six shadows strutted and fretted to the flashing knives and swinging rods. The broad one crashed into the wall. The short one swung down. Boots staggered, feet fluttered, beams shattered and fists flew. Cries and curses.
The violence which had erupted suddenly abated, the cacophonous din gave way to the night's silence.
A small ember flickered, delicately perched on a small stick. It hovered towards a glass container, swaying and fraying, a fragile light. It found its way to the grass-like wick, and flared with vigour. Darkness retreated, beaten back by the blaze. The flame peeled the blackish skin away from its benefactor, a man in a weathered black-and-blue leather jack.
The man was tall and thin. Draped upon his broad shoulders, a cloak bearing the heraldry of Nordland. On his skull a a chipped helmet sat and perched upon it were a pair of plumes, yellow and blue. He was garbed in the uniform of the Salzenmund Watch.
Beneath the scruff was a skin as battered as the uniform. Though he was but seventeen winters, he had the countenance of one approaching his mid-twenties. Moreover, he lacked the vigour of one of his age. His dark brown eyes, ringed in black, bore deep melancholy.
The watchman picked up his cracked lantern and surveyed the alley around him. A broad, heavily muscled thug lay groaning on the dirty ground, his nose broken and his face bloodied. The short one, tattooed and bald, laid unconscious in a pile of rubbish, vomit and dung.
"Well, that came out of nowhere. Never a dull night in here."
Giselbert Gottschalk of the Salzenmund Watch spun around, and a fellow watchman shielded his eyes from the lantern-light shining into his eyes.
"For once, I wished it were a dull night," Giselbert answered irritably. "Giselbert, put that away!" Lanric Schwart complained loudly and Giselbert swiftly lowered his lantern and bowed his head in apology.
Lanric Schwart looked much closer to his age, clearly having not suffered as much as his taller, gruffer companion. Even so, the many nights of brutish violence had left their marks. He had a long scar which stretched from his nose to his cheeks.
He kicked at the groaning ruffian at his feet.
"Think you can just up and ambush us, eh? Maybe when you get out of the slammer, you will think twice about that."
"We ain't carting all these sods back to the headquarters ourselves, Lanric," Giselbert grumbled. "Take my lantern and hurry back. Maybe the Captain will lend us a cart to carry these sods off. Maybe even get a bonus for this haul."
"Right," Lanric rubbed his nose. He then snatched the lantern from Giselbert's hand.
"I'll be back in a jiffy. In the meantime, don't beat them up too much, alright Gis?" he grinned. Giselbert shrugged and smirked. Lanric slapped his shoulders and then took off.
As soon as his partner left his sight, Giselbert's smile dropped. He leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. He looked up into the sky, towards hideous Morrslieb. The Chaos Moon grinned back. The stricken watchman averted his gaze.
He rubbed his chin and his cheeks, and then he held his forehead. He shook his head and exhaled a very tired and heavy sigh.
A cold breeze peeled the faded posters, stuck on the walls. Giselbert shivered. He brought his cloak tighter around him as he sneezed. He then drew his hip flask and attempted to drain some of the alcoholic fluids within. Only two drops touched his tongue. The watchman cursed himself for not buying more vodka before he started his shift. His jacket and cloak were barely enough to ward off the autumn chills of Nordland.
Giselbert stopped cursing abruptly. There was something going on a few distances away, out on the main road. He could hear the clip-clopping of hooves and the creaking of wheels. "A vehicle so late at night in Salzenmund?" he wondered.
Curiosity piqued, Giselbert Gottschalk left his post and hurried after the sound. Following the trailing din, he found himself leaving the narrow pathways of the Slums District and onto the main road of Salzenmund. The watchman could not see any sign of the vehicle. The vehicle had already gone.
As Giselbert was about to turn away and return to his post, he sighted a crumpled silhouette lying on the road. He rubbed his eyes and squinted, and certain that he wasn't hallucinating out of fatigue, he approached the lying figure.
He wished he had not given his lantern to Lanric. The street lights were not bright enough for him to make out the figure clearly. All that he could make out of it was that it was lying sideways, with its back turned to him, and that its donned in loose-fitting clothes.
As he drew closer, he noted the person's emerging feature. Judging from the shape of his body, Giselbert Gottschalk surmised him to be a man of forty five to fifty winters. He also noticed some lighter shades on his hair, reinforcing his impression that he was dealing with an elderly. "He must have had a fight with his wife and got thrown out into the streets," the watchman thought.
"Sir! The town isn't safe tonight! You should not sleep here!" he yelled, and was answered with silence.
"Should I take you home and settle the matter between you and your wife?" he asked again, and again his remarks went unanswered.
Giselbert shook his head, regretting that he would have to give this elderly man a rude awakening.
"Sir?" Giselbert asked again as he knelt down and crawled towards the 'sleeping man', ready to shake him awake. It was then Giselbert noticed something strange about the sleeping man: his legs were unnaturally bent and were bound together.
The watchman swallowed his saliva. He crawled cautiously towards the corpse, making sure he did not step on or touch any bodily fluids. He then put his hands on the man's shoulders and turned him around.
He found the old man a still cooling corpse.
Giselbert stood up and took a deep breath. He pulled his hip flask from his belt and attempted to drink its contents. Not a single drop touched his tongue. He swore.
He crouched before the corpse and studied it. The old man was gagged, his eyes wide. His hands were bound as tightly as his legs. His hair was untidy and caked in blood. His face was heavily bruised. A long, thin red line grinned across his neck from ear to ear. There was a strange sigil etched into his forehead. He squinted his eyes and looked around, trying to examine the area around the corpse, trying to see despite the darkness.
He noticed a very dark line on the side of the road. Giselbert got up and walked cautiously towards the lines warily. He knelt down and bent forward, trying to examine the lines. He noticed that the lines have a slightly grainy texture. It also looked moist. "Mud skids," he thought. "The vehicle I tried to follow earlier did pass by here."
Though there were small patches of blood trailing away from the corpses, he noted the peculiar absence of pooling blood. "The victim was not killed here. His corpse was brought here, probably by the vehicle," he thought.
Giselbert Gottschalk placed his gloved palm onto his face and groaned. There was no doubt about it. He had witnessed a carefully premeditated murder. This will take a while, and knowing the Captain of the Watch, he will not be allowed to go off-duty come morning.
"Sodding salted cod!"
Glossary:
(1) Nordland and Salzenmund: Nordland is the northernmost province of the Empire, and the only province with a coast. Much of the land is blanketed in untamed forests: the Forest of Shadows on the east side of the River Salz and the Laurelorn Forest on the west. The woods are infested with all manner of monstrosity, from giant spiders to the beastmen warherds to much worse things, and as such the locals do not venture in without armed escorts.
The seat of power in the province lies in the town of Salzenmund, which sits close to the tributaries of the great River Salz. Here, the Elector Count Theoderic Gausser hold his court, within the walls of Gausser Keep, nestled in the hills and cliffs of Jutone's Nest.
The town itself, though the capital of Nordland, is chartered free, meaning that the Elector Count does not involve himself in its day-to-day governance. Instead, the town is free to govern itself, in return for certain duties and obligations to the Elector Count and, in extension, to the Empire itself.
(Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 2nd Edition, Sigmar's Heirs: A Guide to the Empire, Chapter VI: The Grand Provinces, page 63)