This story was originally intended for people who don't know a lot about Warhammer, so I explain a few things that might not otherwise need explaining. Chapter One is a bit rocky, since its been a while since I've written much, but I get back in the groove pretty quick. I love reviews.
The characters are mine, the setting and history belongs to Games Workshop.
Derrick leaned out over the rail of the ship, breathing in the sharp sea air, as waves crashed against the hull below. The endless blue-green desolation of the Sea of Chaos stretched before him. Sigmar's Comet creaked and rolled gently beneath him, and he spied her sister ship The Star of the North a little way off. He heard sails flap in the wind, the cry of seagulls, rough curses of sailors. He smelt the moist tang of the ocean breeze, and could taste the salt on his lips. The sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky, and he had to shield his eyes to make out the other ships in the distance.
Six ships had left Dietershafen two days past, bound for the great port of Marienburg. It had cost Derrick the last of his coins to secure passage, but he had not had many options. His picture had been nailed on more than one tavern wall. There was a hefty reward for his capture…dead or alive.
He ran his fingers through his long brown hair, and turned back to watch the activity behind him. Sailors scattered the deck, pulling on ropes, climbing the rigging, and doing other important-looking tasks. Most were hard, ugly men, with menacing faces and lean bodies.
Derrick bumped into a cannon to the amusement of a few men nearby. Annoyed, he swiftly made his way below deck. Breakfast was being served and he had to smile to himself. The men who laughed at him wouldn't eat nearly as well as the paying passengers. Indeed, the sailors had their own mess hall below decks, and they were encouraged to leave the passengers well enough alone. That suited Derrick just fine. He grabbed a bowl and stepped into line. A one eyed sailor with a large grin ladled a thick porridge into the bowl, and Derrick grabbed a plate of fried bread and bacon.
He crouched in the small space and sat at a bench, setting his food on the table. He noticed a dwarf sitting across from him, positioning a block of wood on the bench. His nose poked over the top of the table as he moved it. Satisfied, he heaved himself up, grabbing the table, and sat on the wood. The table shook with the effort, and more than a few cups of ale spilt. Derrick heard curses up and down the table, but the dwarf was unperturbed, now comfortable high enough to enjoy his meal.
Someone sat down next to Derrick. He was a big man, with close cropped hair and dark stubble on his face. He wore a bear pelt as a cloak, and nodded to Derrick.
"How's the porridge?" he asked, putting down his own bowl.
"Haven't had the chance to try" Derrick replied, tasting his. He nodded. "Alright. Needs honey."
"Not like to find honey on the ocean, manling" the dwarf across from him said.
People always willing to talk when you're travelling together Derrick thought, remembering travelling the high road in youth. I wonder how long before they ask why I'm going-
"What takes you to Marienburg?" the dwarf asked, sipping some ale. Derrick didn't answer right away… he waited for the man next to him. He didn't either, and so they looked at each other awkwardly.
"Who were you asking?" the man next to him said to the dwarf.
"Both- good conversation is the best way to pass the time, me Da' always said."
"I'm visiting family" Derrick replied.
The man next to him nodded "I'm a sword for hire- past time I looked for work in the big city".
The dwarf told them he was a prospector, returning from a trip to scout a new silver mine for a Kislevite lord. As they ate their meal they talked, Derrick learned the dwarf's name was Thorgrim, the
mercenary was Kurt. After their meal they each retired to their own cabins, and Derrick was sure they would meet many more times over the course of the journey.
--
The next three days passed as the first two had: lazily, at times painfully slow. After familiarizing oneself with the ship, the novelty of being at sea quickly turned to boredom. Derrick found himself wishing he had his sword, so he could at least sharpen it…not that it needed to be sharpened. Everyone's weapons had been confiscated upon boarding the vessel, a numbered token tied to the item, and its twin given to the owner. He would return the token at the end of the trip, and receive his weapons. Until then, he had to find other ways to occupy the time.
Derrick found himself on the deck this evening, with most of the other passengers. The sky had become overcast and a chill had entered the air, but it was still preferable to below decks. Derrick found himself watching a short brown-haired woman as she gazed out to sea. He had noticed her once or twice below decks, her deep brown eyes and shapely figure by far the most attractive thing on Sigmar's Hammer. Currently, she read from a small book in her lap, looking up occasionally as the wind blew through her dark hair. Her clothing was simple but flattering, a brown woolen dress that hugged her ample chest. She seemed to feel his gaze upon her and looked up, forcing Derrick to look elsewhere.
He noted a small commotion in the corner, as a few sailors and passengers crowded around something. Aware that the woman was still watching him, he stood and casually made his way over to the group. One of the men turned away, and Derrick saw Thorgrim sitting on a barrel, cards in his hands. Taking the place of the last onlooker, Derrick saw the dwarf sat across from a tall broad-shouldered man with dark features. His eyes were quick and penetrating, and he wore clothing that looked expensive but well used. He sported a dark green cloak and jerkin, almost black, but one could make out the glint of
chainmail at the joints. We're alone, in the middle of the ocean, and he's wearing armour... clearly I'm not the only person on this ship with a history.
"Alright manling, your bet" Thorgrim said, tossing some brass pennies on the deck. Between the two lay a large pile of coins, a few of them silver. The other man adjusted the cards clutched in his hands.
"I'll double your bet" he said in a Bretonnian accent, dropping the appropriate amount. The dwarf spat on the deck, then nodded. One of the sailors leaned next to another.
"The dwarf has 'im now, you wait and see." Before the other man could respond, a cry went up from behind them.
"Sail on the horizon!"
Derrick turned around, leaving the game to the players. He jogged over to the rail, followed by a number of others.
"Where is it?" someone asked.
"Not sure" said a sailor, squinting.
A high voice cut through the others. "There it is" the brown-haired Woman said, pointing to where a black bank of clouds met the horizon. Derrick peered towards it and immediately saw a blurry white shape contrast against clouds.
"Well done lass" Derrick said, nodding with a grin. He saw her scowl in his direction, before she looked back at the ship.
"What kind of ship is it?" she asked no one in particular.
"Can't say at this distance, 'less you've got a spyglass up that skirt of yours." Someone quipped, causing raucous laughs. Derrick pretended the joke wasn't funny, as the woman looked at the men around her.
"One more word out of you lot, and the captain will hear of this!" She said, her cheeks flushed red. That quieted the sailors down at least. The speck continued to grow on the horizon, the crowd steadily growing as word passed below decks. Derrick heard fearful muttering from some of the sailors.
"No other ships headin' our way from Dietershafen for at least a fortnight…" one sailor muttered.
"No need for worry!" a cultured accent yelled from behind them. Derrick turned and saw the Captain in his ridiculous brightly coloured outfit, peacock feathers sticking from his hat. He twirled his long moustache and addressed the gathered onlookers "We're in a convoy, six ships against one is hardly a contest I daresay." He winked at the Woman, who rolled her eyes.
"Capn' sir, we and the Star are the slowest in the line sir. Mayhaps we should signal the others to circle around…" one of the sailors said.
The Captain frowned "You suggest I upset my fellow Captains over a single sail on the horizon? Surely not."
Some uneasy looks passed amongst the crew. Derrick felt a weight in the pit of his stomach. As the crowd began to disperse, Derrick followed the crewman who had spoken up. Once he was satisfied they were out of earshot, Derrick stopped the man.
"Yessir?" the sailor asked.
"Uhh, I was just wondering how much…experience the Captain has in these matters."
The crewman looked around nervously, before answering"He's been in command for only two months sir, but you didn't hear that from me." Derrick's eyes widened.
"You aught to look to the cannons" a voice said from over Derrick's shoulder. He turned back to see the Bretonnian card player standing a few feet behind him.
"I usually see to such things when the Captain makes one of his decisions" the sailor said. Derrick nodded, and the man slipped away.
The Bretonnian looked over at Derrick. "Apparently not everyone on this vessel is a fool" he said quietly, raising an eyebrow.
"Derrick Tolbert " Derrick said offering a hand.
"Goliuth" the man said, shaking it. "Don't care much for last names".
"Do you have any idea what kind of ship that is?" Derrick asked, nodding toward the shape.
"No, but I have a way to find out" he said, producing a spyglass from a coat in his cloak. Derrick smiled. At least someone here knows what they're doing.
The two men returned to the railing, and Goliuth extended the brass eyepiece with a snap. He looked through it and stared for a long time. Derrick didn't say anything, but felt his gut tighten as the man put the glass down. His expression was grim.
"It's Elven" Goliuth said curtly.
"That's good, isn't it?" Derrick asked.
Goliuth handed him the spyglass. "Not when the ship is painted black."
Putting it to his eye, Derrick felt a twinge of horror. It bore the unmistakable markings of a Dark Elf Reaver. "Gods preserve us" he muttered.
Thunder boomed across the darkening sky.
"The gods are fine, but I put my faith in cold steel" Goliuth replied gravely.
--
"COMMON BOYS, WE NEED EVERY SHEET WE HAVE!" yelled the Captain, as lightning cracked across the sky. Sailors moved across the deck with haste, nimbly climbing the rigging. Derrick felt a few droplets of rain strike his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, adjusting his chainmail. He looked over at Kurt and Goliuth as they checked their own weapons. There was a crack that Derrick thought might be more thunder, but was in fact onr of the sails opening in the wind. He rubbed his hands nervously as the ship pitched to the left."I should have stayed on land" he muttered.
"Then we'd likely be under attack from beasts of Chaos" Thorgrim responded, sitting next to him. Derrick was about to respond when he saw huge shape off the starboard rail. Standing, he quickly realized it was The Star of the North, their sister ship. In a flash of lightning, he saw something was wrong with her sails. Derrick moved next to the Captain, who was busy trying to light a lantern.
"Something's wrong with the other ship!" Derrick yelled over a gust of wind. The Captain looked at him, then to where he was pointing. He licked his lips.
"She- uhh-"
"She needs our help!" Derrick said, watching the rapidly receding behind them.
The Captain shook his head "We'll regroup with the others first."
Derrick saw the first mate and the other passengers were watching. "It's too dark to signal the other ships now. They might not have even seen-"
"I am Captain of this ship, sir!" the other man yelled. Derrick saw the twinkle of desperation in the Captain's eyes. Only the lanterns of the Star were now visible in the darkness. Kurt appeared out of the darkness to the Captain's left.
"It took you long enough just to let us at our weapons, don't be a fool about this too. The Star is the only other ship in the convoy that was close enough to see the Reaver. We're all she has."
The Captain's eye's flickered to the big man, then back to Derrick. "First mate, escort these men below decks." Derrick looked around and saw three other crewman watching, cutlasses in their hands. They looked to the mate as though the real decision were his.
The crewman Derrick had spoken to earlier jumped off some rigging, landing a few feet away. "If we 'ad all stayed close to each other- like a convoy is aught to- we'd be six ships instead of just two" he said. The first mate looked to the crewman, nodding. "Dirk here's right sir. If you knew anything about seamanship we wouldn't be in this mess." The Captain's eyes widened and he looked around pleadingly. "This is mutiny! Madness! You can't suggest we risk our lives for the Star!"
"Last time I checked, that was the whole point of a convoy" Goliuth said, coming to stand next Kurt.
"Get below you coward!" Dirk yelled at the Captain. The man looked around in horror, then retreated below decks.
"Come about, we 'ave a ship to save!" Dirk yelled. The crew snapped into action. The night had fallen truly now, inky blackness blanketing the sea. Wind howled across the waves and rain mingled with salt spray, as lightning forked down from the heavens. Sigmar's Comet creaked and groaned as she came about, bearing back towards her sister. Derrick saw her lanterns swinging in the wind a ways off. We'll have more than enough time to help her get underway… Derrick hoped.
The ships were soon alongside one another, facing in opposite directions. Dirk and the crew brought Sigmar's Comet as close as the weather allowed. Across the gap, Derrick could make out men as they ran across the deck of the other ship, pulling frantically at her rigging. "Get some men into a boat and send them over!" the first mate yelled. "Looks like with a few extra hands, they'll be able to get their topsail-"
From the darkness, past the Star of the North, Derrick suddenly saw a black shape rear out of the night. The Reaver slammed into the exposed side of the ship, her iron ram smashing the Star through the waves. Derrick realized what was about to happen a moment before it did. The Star listed to her side, pushed by the momentum of the attack, and the gap between her and the Comet rapidly closed. "BRACE FOR IMPACT!" someone yelled, and the side of the sister ships slammed together.
Men flew from the rigging to the crashing sea below, and Derrick was thrown to the deck. He felt the ship tilt beneath him, and a cannon tore free of its moorings. It rolled past, inches from his head, and smashed into the opposing railing. He looked up in time to see a lantern fall from its perch, flying towards the cannon. Light flashed as the loaded cannon ignited. He put his hands over his head, and there was a resounding boom. There was a rush of air, an acrid stench, and someone screamed.
Derrick opened his eyes, yelled and pulled himself to his feet. He looked left and saw figures running across the deck. In a flash the ship was thrown into total darkness.
Weren't there were more lanterns?
Something tore through the air by his head, and he ducked. There was a "twang!" and he saw a black arrow embed itself in the mast behind him. A woman screamed, and he thought of the pretty one from earlier. He drew his sword, and light came back to the world.
His elven blade- an heirloom that had been in his family for generations- shone with a powerful blue light. He saw pale faces in the darkness, spiked armour, and swords somehow blacker than the night around them. Derrick roared and lunged forward, slashing his blade at a dark elf. His sword opened it's throat, black blood spilling across the mithril steel. There were hisses all around him, like a dozen snakes. Derrick suddenly remembered the hatred dark elves had for all other elves, and realized his shining blade probably made him a choice target. Sword danced towards him from every angle, and he parried desperately. Another arrow tore out of the darkness, this one skinning his neck. Derrick heard roars and yells as the rest of the crew joined the battle against the elves. The foes around him thinned, and he suddenly found himself safe from attack for a moment.
He tried to catch his breath, remembering his shield strapped across his back, he pulled it onto his arm. He heard a yell of pain, Thorgrim staggered past, arrows protruding from his chest. Derrick saw two elves attacking a swordsman to his left, and rushed to his aid. He slashed down at an elf's back, but the creature moved with supernatural speed. It dodged right, catching the sword on its own blade. Suddenly a sword erupted from its back. The elf twisted as the Goliuth- the swordsman- pitched it overboard. Its dark companion was already lying on the ground, a dagger in his throat. There was no time to talk, no time to regroup, as black figures swirled across the deck. Fighting was everywhere. Sailors, passengers, and elves clashed all across the deck. Flashes of pistols and muskets erupted in the dark.
Derrick could make out an elf in a swirling cloak appear in front of him. He raised his blade before him throwing light onto the elf's sharp features. Derrick saw a thin leonine face, silver hair, and eyes as dark as the grave. The elf flashed pearly white teeth, and moved his arms in a strange gesture. Red flames sprang to life, rushing across the deck towards Derrick. He cursed, almost dropping his sword as he ran from the inferno. Derrick almost toppled over the side as his back stuck the railing. He held his shield forward, muttering "Just my luck, finding the one bloody elf wizard!" Fire licked over the edges of the
round metal shield, but Derrick planted it against the ground. The shield was hot to the touch, but it held the flames at bay. Derrick peeked over the top and saw the black figure of the elven magi. The black figure raised his arms high, the light from the fire flickering around him. Derrick saw tendrils of flame edge around his left and right, past the protection of his shield. He knew he had seconds to act.
Roaring, Derrick pulled back his shield and spun it across the flaming deck toward the wizard. He leapt after it, landing deftly within the protection of the metal. Derrick skidded across the deck towards the bewildered wizard, his gleaming silver blade held high.
"Go to Hell!" Derrick yelled, raking his sword across the magi's beautiful features. Blood erupted from his face, and he fell back to the deck. The elf seemed to lose control of his own magic, for the flames engulfed him as he struck the deck.
Derrick balanced on his shield as the fire burned around him. He looked left and right with a grin, wondering if anyone had seen his heroic win. Four Dark Elves stood a few meters away, repeater crossbows held in their hands. Derrick deflated visibly, as they motioned with their weapons.
"I beat a wizard in single combat, but the only witnesses want to enslave me. Just my luck" he muttered, tossing his sword on the deck and raising his hands.