ACHERON
Author's Introduction
Hello. I'm Spike and I have been interested in the Games Workshop for well over ten years (I started reading White Dwarf back in 1994!). In my time, I have fielded the Space Wolves and Elder in 40K, Chaos and High Elves in WFB, Bretonnian Knight and Elf Ranger in WHQ (anyone sense a pattern emerging?), Ratskins and Van Saar in Necromunda and Chaos and Skaven in Blood Bowl (phew!).
As mentioned above, I'm an avid fan of Warhammer Quest and I take my Bretonnian knight, Artois de Bordeleaux down into a dungeon on regular basis. So, this story is about my knight and his background. This was originally titled the Black Winter Chronicles but has since gone so major changes (and not just the title).
It should be noted that in creating Artois, I wanted to do something different than the usual image of Bretonnian knights that everyone is familiar with. I was interested in creating an unorthodox Bretonnian knight and ending drawing a lot of imagery from the characters that populate Sergio Leone Westerns (i.e. A Fistful of Dollars, the Good, the Bad and the Ugly). Furthermore, I must confess a love of reading/writing stories involving a bad man sent out to kill an even worse man
Anyway I hope you like this story and have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
Title: Acheron
Author: Spike
Chapter: One
It was a scene that could only be described as complete and utter carnage.
What was once a simple Bretonnian village had now descended into a devastation of broken bodies, burning buildings and flame.
Where once stood buildings that were house and home to the peasants who inhabited this village, was now reduced to broken walls, flame torn stone and ash. Where there were once large sacks of food, meat and wine, were now pieces of canvas, slashed open, spilling hard-earned produce into mud. Where beasts of burden once grazed upon, was now tainted with the stench of roasting flesh. And when there used to be the sounds of human laughter and labouring, had now evolved into a deathly silence, split only by the sound of crows descending from the skies above.
And where once stood the residents of the village, lay bodies of men, women and children – some clutching weapons, some large pieces of timber and stone, some had facial expressions that spoke volumes of defiance but all were now masses of bone and flesh, disfigured by combat, half buried in the mud and stained red with blood.
But in the middle of the battle-torn village, something still stood. It was a tall man, bedecked in hideous black armour and carrying a massive axe. The man also had an unnatural pale flesh and long black hair.
The man surveyed the carnage. Every last villager who had once called this miserable shit-hole home was dead. All of them were peasants, judging by their shabby clothing, the fact that their hands were stained with hard labour and their inadequacies in the terms of armour and weapons. But what the man found puzzling was the lack of any knights in amongst the corpses. This made him wonder why none of the legendary knights had come to the peasant's aid. If the stores on what he heard of the mighty defenders of Bretonnia were true, a mighty force of knights would've come charging over to this location to deal with such an incursion. Would a Bretonnian Knight leave a village of peasants to die? It seemed unlikely.
But then again, the Bretonnians were also famed for their arrogance. If anything, it seemed doubtful that a knight would come here just to defend this tiny little, insignificant village. If anything it seemed highly likely that the lords of this province might come to notice the village's downfall should they receive no food or tribute from this corner of their domain.
Still, he had to give the peasants credit – judging from their facial expressions, these peasants were fighting with passionate vigour. They were fighting for their lives, their village and for each other. If they seemed aware of the impending doom that was looming above them, they certainly didn't show it. And if they were aware of the minimal damage their weapons would result against their foe they didn't seemed too bothered by such an ideal.
Such behaviour would be respected as an instance of incredible, unshakable courage to a normal human.
But to this particular man, it was a merely a Tuesday afternoon.
He lifted his axe and carefully ran an armoured finger across its blade. How many of the hapless peasants fell before him? He'd lost count after about……twenty.
Just then, the man's ponderings were interrupted by the sound of running feet. But he didn't need to turn around to see who it was - he already knew anyway.
"My lord" came a voice. "We are all ready for you and are awaiting your presence."
"Very well then" the man said "I shall come"
And with that Dundesh the Black, Chaos Champion of Slaanesh, got to his feet.
What was once the village square, was now home to a huge bonfire. In amongst the mud and rubble, has a tower of flame – and in the middle of it was a spit, roasting a cow. And all around the fire stood four warriors – each carrying an enormous weapon and wearing hideous black armour that declared unshakable loyalty to the Chaos God Slaanesh. And, in perhaps the most telling elements of the pact made with the forces of Chaos each of them had a distinctive attribute
One of them went by the name of Jan – he sported a ghastly face which boasted enormous fangs, pale flesh, a long tongue and eyes that bulged out of their sockets in Jan's skull. Also his right arm was gone, replaced instead with a mass of tentacles. He currently had a piece of freshly roasted cattle in his hand and was fasting on it with gusto.
The second Chaos Warrior answered to the name of Henrik. He was a deformed sight, who had his eyes hidden behind strips of black metal and his lips sewn shut. But his most striking feature was that his left hand was replaced with a head – This head was reptilian in shape, covered in green scales and boasted yellow eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth. The most disturbing fact with this attribute was that Henrik was picking up chunks of meat with his right hand which he then used to feed into the mouth of his reptilian hand.
Then there was Aleksis – a huge warrior who towered above his companions and who was easily the largest of the five. He was the only one present at the bonfire that had his face concealed underneath the distinctive spiky helmets that was so familiar with the warriors of chaos. And like the others, Aleksis sported an attribute that came from his patron deity – it came in the form of a massive tail that sported from the lower regions of his back – this tail resembled that found on scorpions. Also, his right leg had gone – in its place however was a long, thin, extremely inhuman leg that one would normally find on an insect. At the moment, Aleksis was occupied with the task of keeping the fire going. He achieved this by throwing on anything he could find: Some of these materials ranged from pieces of wood from the ruined buildings, the pre-prepared sacks of food, the peasant's clothing, and, frequently, the bodies of the peasants themselves.
The final Chaos Warrior was called Jorn. He had a huge bushy beard and long unkempt hair that betrayed his origins as being from Norsca. He also boasted huge muscular arms that ended with fingers that were long, hard and resembled the talons of an eagle. At the moment, he was busying himself with the peasants he had personally killed – by ripping off the head of the corpses and asking, to dead eyes, whether or not they considered him a mighty and handsome warrior.
Just then, two more warriors came to join the bonfire. The first one was named Raoul – a huge man who, like the others, clutched a massive axe and boasted an impressive suit of spiky black armour. He also continued to wear his own helmet – a hideous monstrosity which bore a red plume and the image of a skull as its face. And like the others, Raoul had the benefit of Chaos gifts – his came in the form of a pair of extra arms that both sported hands housing a range of lethal talons.
The second was Dundesh the Black, the leader of this group of Slaanesh warriors. Surprisingly, he differed from his companions in that his form showed no Chaotic attributes at all.
Recognising their leader approach, Jan, Aleksis, Henrik and Jorn all got to their feet.
Seeing his underlings gathered before him, Dundesh spread his arms before him.
"My comrades" he said. "Today has been a great day. We have slaughtered an entire village in the name of Slaanesh!"
At the mention of their foul master's name, the Chaos Warriors burst into roars and shouts of approval. Dundesh smiled before rasing his arms for silence.
"It has been a pleasure to deliver our master all of these pitiful souls! Just as it has been a privilege for him to guide us to this village and provide us with a full day's amusement!
"But for now, this day's slaughter is at an end. Now, we shall rest because tomorrow will be another day of killing in Slaanesh!!"
The five other warriors roared in delight.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the village, the now empty streets were choked with the smoke from burning buildings and the stench of blood. Apart from the screeching of several crows, eager to scavenge the flesh of the dead, and the celebrations of the Slaanesh warriors echoing from the town square all was silent.
Then, a new sound began echoing across this part of the village. It was the sound of armoured feet striding, through the mud. This was soon joined by the chink of armour against a wide range of swords.
And then, through the smoke, came a figure.
Back at the bonfire, the warriors of Slaanesh were all in full celebratory state of mind: The noise of their rapture echoed across the square in an amalgam of singing, the devouring of freshly roasted cattle, the slurping of alcoholic beverages and the bragging of how many hapless peasants they had killed on the day.
Dundesh relaxed back in a chair he had found – it seemed to be the speaking chair that would've most likely been used by the village hetman. The warrior smiled – that hetman wouldn't mind if he, Dundesh, kept the seat warm for him. It's not like he will be needing it any more…..
In Dundesh's hand was a tankard, containing a distinctly Bretonnian brew of beer. He smiled – It was only through pure chance this beer was located – When raiding one of the huts, Aleksis managed to find several barrels of this liquor stashed away in secret. It was concealed in a compartment hidden behind a wooden panel. Of course, such a discovery was found by accident when Aleksis drove his axe into the panel in an attempt to seem threatening to the hapless peasants.
And serendipity always has its benefits.
It was anyone's guess how the peasants had managed to acquire this liquor. Knowing the Bretonnian way of life, peasants aren't allowed access to such vintage. It was therefore most likely that they had stolen it from a knight somewhere and managed to keep it hidden, with the intention of having it for themselves later on.
Dundesh grinned at this thought – considering the effort the peasants went to hide this grog from their superiors, it would be a terrible shame for it all to go to waste.
The leader of the Chaos Warriors could feel his limbs relax as he pondered on the events of the past few days. A few weeks ago, Dundesh was in the Chaos wastes, fighting the eternal war that reigned throughout that doomed land. He had been fighting there for so long, and slain countless enemies of Slaanesh, that he had lost track of how long he had been fighting there – not that it mattered anyway. Fighting glorious battles for Slannesh was satisfaction enough.
It was however only a few weeks ago that Dundesh was struck by a premonition – it revealed to him the one piece of information that informed him that his destiny lay not in the Chaos Wastes themselves but south, in the civilised realms of men. Since then Dundesh, accompanied by a group of followers had been marching from up north. Due to their small numbers, the Warriors had been making their way as stealthily as possible through the coast along the borderline of the Empire. Of course it seemed absurd that they would make the effort to avoid any large conflicts but they satisfied their battle-lust by butchering small villages, small ships, any merchant caravans and anything they found that was worth slaughtering. Eventually, the warrior's journey along the coast brought them into the realm of Bretonnia – but even though this realm was famous for housing thousands of knights, the warriors were hardly bothered. For to have lot's of knights, the kingdom of Bretonnia had to have lot's of peasants to keep their needs satisfied. And it was this thought that directed to warriors of Slaanesh to any small village they could find and slaughter all who dared stand before them. Amazingly (although the divine intervention of their deity Slaanesh may have had something to do with it) they haven't been able to attract the attention of the knights and continually managed to escape any type of confrontation.
He smiled as he observed the scene of celebration before him – his warriors were all celebrating their victory in the typical Slaanesh fashion – Chanting, singing, drinking, devouring roasted meat and pulling apart of the corpses with unbridled passion.
Dundesh smiled before motioning to Raoul.
"I say" Dundesh said. "I do believe my tankard could to with some more ale"
"As you say my master" Raoul replied. He picked up one of the barrels of beer and reached for Dundesh's tankard. But he didn't take it.
Dundesh's brow furrowed in annoyance.
"What's wrong with you?!" he snapped. "I want more ale and I want it now! It surely can't be that too difficult a command!"
"My master!" Raoul said nodding in the direction in which he was facing "Look!"
His expression one of annoyance (he had not time for minor things when he should be downing more of the lovely ale) Dundesh followed the gaze of his underling.
There, emerging from the smoke was a figure. It advanced with a stride purposeful whilst maintaining a sens of rhythm in of a chink that betrayed the usage of heavy armour.
As the figure approached details of him slowly came into view: He was covered from his neck down in the heavy silver armour that was distinctive of the knights of Bretonnia. This was accompanied by a tunic arranged over the armour that was coloured by a split in the middle – one side was coloured blue whilst the other was white. The knight carried a shield that echoed the pattern arranged on the tunic. In the knight's hand was an enormous broadsword.
But what was unusual about this knight was, unlike the other knights of Bretonnia, this one didn't wear any kind of helmet. He had his head and face bare – revealing a mass of black hair that reached down to his shoulders. But the most striking feature about this man was that he possessed a remarkable pair of blue eyes.
Remarkable in that the eyes seemed to show no hint of emotion whatsoever.
Dundesh sneered at this newcomer. He then got to his feet and clapped his hands, thus sending the celebrations to an immediate halt. Jan, Aleksis, Henrik and Jorn all looked up attentively.
"Gentlemen" Dundesh said softly, nodding towards the approaching knight "it seems our master Slaanesh has benevolent enough to provide us with some sport"
The Chaos Warriors all grinned in anticipation and readied their weapons. But the knight continued to approach, his face showing no trace of emotion whatsoever.
Suddenly he stopped, several metres away from the bonfire.
The Chaos Warriors all sneered at him, but stood their ground – anticipating him to make the first move.
But the knight didn't charge into battle straight away. Instead, he proceeded into a succession of movements that can only be described as unusual behaviour for the Knights of Bretonnia. First, the knight calmly lowered his shield down in front of him. This was then followed by the act of driving his broadsword into the mud. He then reached into his belt and pulled out a cigar, which he then lit with a match from his other hand.
The knight then took a puff of his cigar, seemingly unaware of the Chaos Warriors whom had all gathered before him.
The Warriors all exchange bewildered glances. Then Dundesh's facial expression grew into a sneer.
"Hey look!" he called, making sure the knight could hear "Is that a Knight of Bretonnia I see before me?!"
The knight didn't reply. Instead, he continued smoking his cigar in a manner that could only be described as indifferent.
When he didn't receive the answer he wanted, Dundesh continued, his voice growing with mockery.
"No, that can't be a Knight of Bretonnia. I thought they charged into combat at the first sign of trouble!"
"So what would make this fool before us then?" Henrik inquired through his right hand.
"He must be an imbecile who thinks wearing armour makes him an invincible warrior!" Jan mocked.
This immediately sent the company of Chaos Warriors bursting into laughter. Following the lead of their commander, more taunts followed:
"Hey, when are you going to stop smoking that cigar and come down and fight?" Aleksis boomed. "I could show you a thing or two about wielding a blade properly!"
"Come on down and face me!" Raoul jeered "Or are you too busy soiling your armour?!"
"What's the matter?" Jorn called. "Aren't you man enough to fight a real man's battle?!"
Amazingly, the knight did not bat an eyelid – he continued smoking, his expression suggesting that he didn't even seem aware of the presence of the homicidal lunatics.
"One can only wonder what The King of Bretonnia must have been thinking when he sent a dog like you to deal with us!" Dundesh shouted.
And still the knight remained silent.
When no response still refused to come, Henrik grew angry. He turned to his leader.
"This is absurd!" Henrik snarled. "Sir, he can't take us all on at once! He surely must know that! Why else would he be procrastinating!?"
"Agreed!" Jorn growled. "Sir, give me the word and I'll break every bone in his body!"
"Silence!" Dundesh snapped.
All of the Chaos Warriors collectively adopted expressions of outrage and furious anger, their eagerness for combat being barely constrained. All except Dundesh, who managed to retain a calm composure (he wanted to keep a cool head - after all, they don't want to be mistaken for the brainless killing machines who follow Khorne).
"Tell me knight" the Chaos Champion sneered "Did we just destroy your village?!"
Still the knight said nothing and still he merely carried on smoking his cigar.
Dundesh didn't wait to hear for a reply nor did he care. He just went on:
"So what do you intend to do about it? Don't tell me you're thinking of taking us all on at once?"
At the mention of this the knight paused – as if his ears had just received something that was worth listening to. But it didn't take long before he shrugged.
Then, his hand gripped the hilt of sword and drew it up into the air – the blade pointing directly toward the Chaos Warriors.
To this Dundesh laughed.
"You hear that?" he mocked. "This imbecile seems convinced he can take us all on and win!"
To this the warriors all joined in with the laughter. The knight however didn't seem perturbed in the slightest.
"I admire your bravado sir knight" Dundesh continued, his voice growing increasingly laden with sarcasm "But tell me: Do you honestly believe that courage is a substitute for brains?"
And still the knight chose to remain silent. And still the Chaos Warriors grew furious with such audacious behaviour.
"Obviously you do!" the Chaos Champion jeered.
"Shall I take his head, my lord?" Jorn boomed, his facial expression blazing with furious annoyance at the knight.
"Do what you like with him" Dundesh replied "I am finding his silence rather tiresome"
Jorn nodded and with a roar he charged, his talons ready for action and his blade raised high above his head.
The knight however didn't seem too bothered by the potential of certain doom charging towards him. Instead he raised an eyebrow.
If Jorn noticed he certainly didn't show any signs of doing so. Instead he retained his talons in an outstretched position – it was his plan to use them to drive through the knight's skull and penetrate its way into his brain (and no doubt taking his eyeballs out with it). Once the knight is still, the warrior will then simply beat him into submission with his axe.
It seemed such a simple plan – but it was not to be.
The knight simply placed his cigar in his mouth before turning his back on Jorn – when he was mere inches away. Before Jorn could grasp what was happening, he found his talons were not going through the knight's skull but piercing through the space above the knight shoulder.
But he didn't have time to feel surprised – for massive, gauntleted fist came crashing it; way into his face. A crunch of bone followed as the blow made contact and any more thoughts Jorn had of charging were immediately cut short. The Chaos Warrior was sent backwards, reeling from the sudden impact of the blow. But this gave the knight the opportunity he was looking for: He immediately reached for the hilt of his broadsword and pulled out it from the mud. Then, in one swift movement, the knight drove the blade deep into the Chaos warrior. The broadsword penetrated its way past the warrior's armour and straight into his heart.
It all happened so quickly that Jorn had no idea what had happened – until his brain informed him that he was dead. With a look of utter amazement written all over his face, Jorn slid off the knight's sword. He then toppled over backwards and into the mud.
The other Chaos warriors blinked in utter amazement. The knight however, lowered his blade in the most nonchalant manner and reached up to retrieve the cigar from his mouth.
"Well that was a boring fight" he growled.
All of the remaining Chaos Warriors blinked, at the knight's sudden verbiage.
The knight took another puff from his cigar before then looking back up at the other warriors, a ferocious glare etched across his face….