ACT I: A Night Out
Picking up a crossbow bolt and loading it into the wood and copper casing of a repeater magazine, Vanyra Skorrisdottir worked in silence within her modest room at the "Hearth & Brew Inn". Three days earlier, she had arrived in the Imperial Capital of Altdorf along with a mercenary from Kislev. They had parted ways at the city gates, where the Kislevite went she did not know, the Engineer on the other hand had asked for directions to one of the city's dwarf districts. Currently now staying at the Metallschlack district where much of Altdorf's stone and metal working industry occurs, it was nice for her be back among her kind and to see how the Ruebatuki had carved a nice place for themselves in the heart of The Empire.
She had been a bit awed at first to see the Imperial capital; never had she been to a place with so many people from different cultures and races. She saw dwarfs both from her homeland of Karaz Ankor and those who had been born and raised in the Empire rubbing shoulders with the Grombolgi, there various nationalities of umgi, she had even seen massive and smelly ogri mercenaries swaggering down one of the street. Also seen for the first time in her life, she had seen the elgi; of course she would have been happy enough not to see those pointy eared drakk-fondlers. Her feelings for the city though had been rather marred by the filth and stink of it though.
Currently wearing a simple tunic of bright red with a gold trim; she sat down on a wooden chair of human craftsmanship built for the size of dwarfs. Beside her was a table of a similar design, upon it was her iron tool box which contained the essential items she needed for her maintenance, repairs and construction of new equipment. Laid out upon it was also her entire array of neatly arranged explosives, her sword, wrench, repeater crossbow and rifle as well as the respective ammunition of the two ranged weapons. Loading the last iron tipped bolt into place, she sealed the magazine and went about making sure her crossbow's mechanisms were in working condition.
She briefly looked to her bed, upon it was a thick book, bound in urk-hide and locked with a runic brass mechanism, her personal Dammaz-Kron. Within its fresh pages were the written records of oaths, debts, grudges of her clan. It was the reason she had left Karaz Ankor and in a way she was grateful to have it, for it gave her the motivation she needed to see the world outside of the mountains and to see the places she had only ever read about.
Looking back to her crossbow, she reached for the tools and pulled out several metallic instruments and began making further adjustments. Loosening the pressure here, tightening a screw there, and using a rag to make sure there was no dust and grit to interfere with the mechanisms, she found her work to be both calming and rather meditative. Raising the weapon up to her eye level, she took aim and fired the unloaded weapon. Satisfied that it should be in proper working condition, she went towards her rifle and began its maintenance as well.
Already she had found who she was looking for to eliminate one of the minor entries in her Kron. Her brother had been an adventurer before he became a Slayer; he traveled with many groups of adventurers with his last one being mostly composed of humans. Among them was a fellow by the name of Lugo Bauer, an Imperial mercenary she remembered her of whom her brother had spoken well off from the letters he would often send home. She had asked around for a man by that name, it took her two days of inquiries among the local guardsmen and some other dwarfs until she found out where he lived.
When she had found the location of Lugo's home, she did not expect it to be in some rat's nest slum where she had to keep her hands on the grips of her weapons as the local humans seemed to eye her with a predatory look. She had expected to find a tall and strong human who would be dressed in a foppish way humans often enjoyed, it turned out that he was quite not what she had expected.
She eventually found Lugo living in an overcrowded tenement where a lot of dirty looking human children had gathered around her and were excitedly asking several inane questions. Vanyra was eventually directed to a rather plump (to put it politely) human woman named Gertrude who turned out to be Lugo's wife. Gertrude had brought Vanyra to her husband of whom she described with a very colourful and creative but none too charming series of adjectives which would even make a grobi cry after hearing it.
She found the man to be passed out drunk in a pool of his own vomit while a number of mangy rats seemed to be wondering if they should eat him or not. After Gertrud gave him a few sharp kicks to his rather prodigious stomach and shouting some harsh insults, the man eventually got up groaning and clearly hung over.
Time had clearly not been kind to her brother's former companion for he was an obese and slightly hunch backed man with a lot of missing teeth, cauliflower ears, balding and greasy grey hair around the sides, a glass right eye which looked cracked and his beard was something even a Wanaz would balk at. He was even missing his left hand which had been replaced by a rusty hook, like in the stories she had heard about pirates.
The man gave Vanyra a rather confused and stupid look before his wife upended a flimsy wooden pail of filthy cold water over his head. The two humans quickly began arguing before Vanyra had been forced to politely cough and remind them of her presence. When the two stopped arguing the wife left them be, and Vanyra had explained her quest to Lugo. The man quickly seemed to regain his wits when the Engineer mentioned her brother, a nostalgic look came over his eye one good eye.
According to Lugo it had been over twelve years since he had last seen Thori, he became genuinely saddened when Vanyra told him of her brother's recent passing. He seemed surprised when Vanyra mentioned that her brother owed him a debt of ten gold crowns from a bet they had once taken. According to Lugo it was a drunken bet over who could kill more goblins when they were adventuring in Hochland, they even had to fight said goblins while drunk as well.
The man then spoke to her in a surprisingly solemn manner that if she wanted to repay him, she could do so by helping him with his work as a sewerjack. He even promised that he would consider the debt repaid if she helped him with some "business" he had to take care of down in the sewers. Of course she had been wary at first and asked if it was anything illegal nd Lugo seemed honest about whatever it was he needed doing as of not being illegal, but there was something about it which did not seem right. After setting an appointment and a meeting time, Vanyra agreed to meet the man the following day at The Street of a Hundred Taverns.
After performing some maintenance upon her rifle, she began taking stock of her explosives. She had four fire bombs, five explosive bombs, two canisters which contained alchemical acids. She also had a new one she which wanted to try out, this particular explosive device was partly coated in a gooey adhesive that should be able to stick to a target she would throw it at and after three seconds it would explode and shower the poor bastard and any nearby foe with a hail of razor-sharp metal shards.
Looking to her sword with its bronze hilt and ancestor face upon the guard, she began polishing it with a rag; she would do the same with her heavy wrench which worked as well as a mace, and then she cleaned her chain mail armor. When her equipment was cleaned, she then took stock of how much powder and shot she still had for her rifle. Deciding that perhaps she should stop by and purchase some more later or tomorrow at a shop called "Hargrim's Thundering Thrunds", she went about gearing herself up for tonight.
Tying her shoulder length, auburn hair with a cord, she slowly began to form it into a single plait behind her head. She then began equipping herself in an almost ritualistic fashion. First was her chain mail armor which was worn under her tunic, then her orc-hide boots and gloves.
She then attached her now sheathed sword to her belt on her right hip and her wrench on her left. She took three of the incendiary bombs, which she also attached to her belt and finally her cloak, the sticky bomb would have to wait for another day. After fastening her stone grey cloak and picking up her quarrels of crossbow bolts, she knew that she had an appointment to make.
Blocking his opponent's axe by thrusting the handle of his own training axe, Khorieus caught the blunted steel axe behind its beard. Pushing forwards with all of his might, his opponent of whom was a tall and broad, fair-skinned Asur with golden hair and was wearing a common archer's uniform. Eolanir Sunmane quickly recovered as his feet touched the ground he and went into a defensive stance, he panted heavily as they sparred.
'It seems time has been most kind to you my lord' panted Eolanir as sweat poured from his brow.
He began spinning his axe in a dizzying pattern which was meant to make an opponent keep guessing where the White Lion would strike next. It was a technique Khorieus himself was quite familiar with for he had taught it to many young warriors over the centuries.
'I see that standing around and guarding merchants has not dulled your own skill old friend' Khorieus replied kindheartedly with a smile as he stood still in a defensive stance with his right hand close to the head of his axe.
Both high elves were garbed in the white and red robes of common Chracian Archers, Khorieus breathed heavily as he quickly shifted into an aggressive stance. It felt good to be speaking in proper Eltharin to other Asur, the two of them were currently located in the training area of the Ulthuan Embassy's guard barracks.
'How fares you daughter?' Khorieus asked his old comrade fondly, for Eolanir had served Khorieus for centuries as a second in command, a standard carrier and occasional chariot driver.
'You taught her too well my lord' Eolanir replied as he began advancing towards Khorieus, he quickly began zigzagging from left to right. 'The girl thinks she will be the next Korhil thanks to you' he calmly said as he swung his axe high.
Ducking underneath the strike which would have decapitated Khorieus had it been a true weapon; Khorieus smacked the butt of his axe's handle into Eolanir's left hip and causing his former captain to grimace.
'Captain Korhil is a good role model for the young' Khorieus said as he leapt back to avoid a knee kick to the chest. 'Is she still assigned to the host which monitors the Waystones?' the highborn asked.
'Indeed my lord' Eolanir replied while raising his left hand as he rested the head of his axe on the pristine marble floor. 'Isha's Tears' Eolanir panted 'At your age, most elves begin slowing down, it is as if you have just been improving since Finuval' he said referring to the Battle of Finuval Plains more than two centuries ago.
'The war did not end for me their mind you' Khorieus reminded him for Eolanir had been severely injured during the battle for Finuval and had been out of action for months. 'I trust little Ehlenie is still alive and well?' he asked with a bit of paternal concern. He had personally trained Ehlenien Sunmane more than a century ago, she was his finest student and a born warrior, and he was honored to have been her teacher, as he had done with many other younger elves. He had not seen Eolanir's daughter in over ninety years now.
'She left Altdorf two days before you arrived my lord' Eolanir said as he stood up and bowed, signifying that their sparring session was over. Khorieus bowed as well and the two warriors set their training axes upon one of the weapon racks. 'A shame really' Eolanir said as he wiped his left sleeve over his brow 'she would have been very happy to see you my lord'
'A pity I did not arrive sooner then' Khorieus with a shrug. He had arrived in Altdorf three days prior in the company of a Battle Wizard Lady of the Amethyst Order.
The Wizard Lady had proven to be a most skilled and excellent fighter, both physically and in matters of the arcane. The two had parted ways but not before the wizard had given him directions to reach the Ulthuan Embassy. The two warriors of Chrace soon parted ways as well; Khorieus himself had been given special accommodations, the kind often reserved for influential Highborn.
Already Khorieus knew how this worked; one of the ambassadors or perhaps an envoy from one of the merchant houses was likely trying to curry favor from him. He really was not surprised that even here in the lands of Men, the noble houses continued their petty political games. Although Khorieus himself was a landless noble with no great wealth or property, he knew that his name still carried weight; he was really hoping that his people would have forgotten it but knew that it was unlikely given the long memories of the Asur.
Walking towards his quarters, he found it to be guarded by a pair of spearmen who gave him sharp salutes. Nodding to the soldiers, they opened the door and allowed him through, it was likely that whoever it was that gave Khorieus his quarters wanted someone to keep an eye on him. He had made a few enemies in the past among Lothern's noble houses; he would not be surprised if it was one of them for the stunted dwarfs were not the only people who could hold a grudge.
If it was though, then he had no worries. Among the Asur, outright assassination of one's enemies was simply against, etiquette especially among Lothern's Noble Houses. If one of the Houses wanted him dead, it would have to be in a "fair" and most importantly public duel. Khorieus himself had permanently ended the careers of many professional duelists of whom were nothing more than hired killers, his opinion of said duelists was even lower than that of the Druchii Assassins who at the least were honest about the nature of their careers.
Awaiting him in his opulent quarters was a young human servant girl with pale skin, chestnut-brown hair and eyes which were also of a similar color. Clad in a dress of white and lavender, the human girl bowed with subservience as he entered. The girl had set a series of fresh clothes for the high elf to which were laid upon his bed, his armor had been sent to the armory of the guard barracks where a Disciple of Vaul named Valorian tended to the weaponry and armor of the guards. The Disciple of the smith god also produced and maintained a number of weakly enchanted weapons which was kept around when the embassy needed to curry favor from Imperial nobles. Telling the girl to rise, he saw her look upon him with that sense of awe and wonderment he often noted when humans see his race.
'What is your name child?' Khorieus asked in a polite tone.
'Annaliese my lord' the girl said with a bow again. She must be new he thought, for in Lothern where humans can be found working as servants or residing in the Foreign Quarters, many of them quickly got over that strange phase of being in awe to his kind.
'Are you new here?' asked Khorieus knowing what the answer would be.
'Yes my lord' the girl said obediently 'I just arrived in the city with my parents from Averland a week ago'
'Do you enjoy working here in the embassy? Do my kin treat you well?' he asked again. He never understood why hiring human helpers was so popular in Lothern, probably it was some way for the Lothernese nobles and merchants to help make themselves feel superior to the other races.
'It is the best my lord' the girl said with an innocent smile 'the high ones are respectful and with the wages I earn, I can afford to rent a townhouse for my family' a sad look then came upon the girl's face and she looked away
'Is something wrong?' he asked
The girl shook her head and looked to him with a smile 'I have a brother I wish had joined us before we left for Altdorf' she said 'He was conscripted to the State Army of Averland, his last letter said he would be posted in Black Fire Pass'.
Khorieus knew a little about this Black Fire Pass, supposedly it was where the founder of the Empire, Sigmar Heldenhammer had won a great victory along with the stunted rock eaters against the greenskin hordes. 'I am sure he is alive and well' the elf said while feigning sympathy and a smile.
'His name is Dieter, my lord. Dieter Jensen' the girl said with a sad smile.
'Then I am sure Dieter Jensen is alive and well'. He said with further feigned sympathy.
After dismissing the girl, he was glad to be alone. Well what now? He thought, the Disciple of the Smith God said he would take several days to finish repairing the Chracian's armor. Khorieus supposed that he could go look around Altdorf and see what crude sights or what changes had been made since the last time he had been to the city more than two hundred years ago. He remembered hearing about a place called The Street of a Hundred Taverns; supposedly one could see all kinds of people.
He really could go for a drink anyway, who knows? He might even run into some thugs who might try to try pick a fight with him. With a smile, he thought he could use a bit of exercise. Putting on the fresh clothes of which were a simple yet elegant robe of white and yellow and then his enchanted lion cloak which was freshly cleaned, he decided that perhaps he should go for a night out.
Arriving at The Street of a Hundred Taverns, Vanyra remembered which one Lugo had wanted to meet at. Speaking to one of the local guardsmen on patrol, she asked the man for the location of a "Mandred's Glory". After being given a rather lengthy description of how to get there, she handed the guardsman a pair of pfennigs before making her way to the Tavern.
All around her she saw so many taverns with a dizzying array of signs. She saw all kinds of people too from wizards with multiple colors of robes, Halflings carting pies; dark-skinned humans with the funny head cloths and curved swords from Araby. She passed by a fair-skinned human lad in chain mail and wearing a tabard of a sun with a face on it, he was leading a tall hooded person by hand of whom moved with an odd grace, an elf she guessed with disdain.
Her senses were assailed by everything that was around her. She could smell that noxious yet delectable mélange of cooking meats, fresh-baked bread, smelly fish, beers and ale of varying quality, human waste and perfume both good and bad. There were so many different colors from the signs on the taverns to the garments of the people around her. She heard music, laughter, shouting, fighting and more lewd things from between the alleyways. There was a certain life and energy to Altdorf to which not even Karaz-a-Karak could compete with.
She passed by a performing human bard with long curled dark brown hair and an impressive moustache and goatee, he wore a crimson and cream loose billowed shirt which partly revealed his chest and tight trousers which accentuated the shape of his legs. The man sang a beautiful sounding song in what she thought was Estalian, there was something about him which seemed off but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Shaking her head and remembering that she had an appointment, she left the singing bard who was surrounded by several men and a certainly large number of women who were entranced by him.
Finally making her way to the Mandred's Glory, she noted the sign of the tavern depicting a bearded bald-headed human man wearing a crown. The human on the sign rested the Skullsplitter over his right shoulder as he winked and gave a toothy grin, in his left hand he held up a large dead rat with X eyes as its tongue stuck out. She could hear the barking of dogs from inside as well, she noted a number of the humans who were coming and going seemed to be carrying small cages and a variety of cheap weapons.
She then noted another wooden signboard under the first; it depicted a grinning and filthy looking gap, toothed man holding a dead rat in one hand and a foaming tankard of ale in the other. Under the man on the sign were words carved into barely legible Reikspiel it said "Rat Catchers & Sewerjack Guild meeting tonight". Guess its full tonight she thought.
Hearing a clatter of metal plates, she looked behind her to see two human men moving towards the tavern, one was clearly a knight in plate armor save for his head which was covered in a coif of chain mail. The knight carried a sword and mace by the sides of his belt and a shield on his back; he wore a white and red tabard depicting a snarling boar. Beside him was a darker skinned but surprisingly attractive human man with long black hair and a short stubble which covered his lower jaw, the man wore dark brown leathers and a cloak of forest green. She noted the second man had a short sword, a hatchet, a longbow and a pair of daggers on him.
The two humans spoke in what she thought was Bretonnian as they went into the Tavern, the knight went around her and the other man glanced down at her with a grin, she grinned back for she found him to be a bit handsome, even for a human. As they were about to enter she saw Lugo stumble out of the swinging double doors of the tavern. The man staggered, he looked like he had a bit too much to drink and he bumped into the knight who pushed Lugo away and berated the man in an accented Reikspiel. Lugo gave the knight a rude hand gesture and he continued to walk towards Vanyra, the knight snorted and shook his head as his companion followed him into the tavern.
Lugo stopped merely four feet away from her. She could smell the cheap grog on his breath; the man wore a ragged leather jacket which certainly had seen better days. The man's clothes were worn out and the only thing which seemed decent on him was a fine dwarf-made mace which was tied to the left side of his belt.
'Took ya long 'nuff lassie' Lugo slurred, he looked almost ready to drop.
'What?' Vanyra said trying to conceal her disgust for his current mental state 'This is the exact time you told me to meet you, an hour after sun down'.
'Oh really' the man slurred again in a questioning tone, he then shrugged 'Guess I… Guess I got ere too early' he said as he began to look like he would lose his balance.
Grunting while rolling her eyes, Vanyra gently poked his belly with her wrench which seemed to wake him up. 'Right lets go then!' the man said with drunken enthusiasm as he unhooked his mace and lifted it. 'Tally ho and all' he then just stood there swaying.
'Okay… where then are we supposed to go manling?' Vanyra asked as she began to wonder exactly what her brother saw in this fellow.
'Oh what?' the man said as he looked around it seemed like he did not even know she was there 'oh right-right-right, the Glory 'ere 'as a 'ole that goes down to the sewers'. The man then began chuckling to himself and he repeated "Glory 'ole" and he began chuckling again.
Not quite sure what he meant she simply said 'lead the way then'. She followed Lugo to a large manhole behind the tavern. She noted that there were a number of scruffy looking cats which lazed around the manhole. Lugo used his hook to lift up the hole from the side, he took a deep breath of the fetid stench which was absolutely the worse thing Vanyra Skorrisdottir had ever smelled. She gagged and coughed as the stench assailed her but Lugo seemed to be invigorated by it.
'Sorry 'bout the smell lass' he said with a cheery grin 'ya get used to it in time'
Wishing that she had brought a perfumed scarf or a mask filled with posies, Vanyra Skorrisdottir just wished she had something or anything to block out the horrid smell. With a grunt she waited for the man to go first before she herself went in amidst the strongstench of human waste. As she went down the man-hole, she caught a weak but familiar animal stench which caused her to grit her teeth in anger.
'Well you a pretty one' purred the scarred Kislevite woman with ash blonde hair and purple-black eyes. She spoke with a heavily accented Reikspiel as she rested the side of her face on her left palm, the elbow of which was propped upon the table. The kislevite woman carried a bottle in her right which was labeled in the script of Kislev.
'You are not too bad yourself' Khorieus replied with a grin as he spoke in perfect Kislevarin. The Kislevite woman was dressed in a leather long coat and looked to be of the Gospodar ethnicity among the northern humans.
'You speak my language as well?' she asked with a surprised look as she switched to Kislevarin.
'Indeed' he confirmed 'I was posted for a time in Kislev, after the Great War'.
In the past, Khorieus had fought many battles alongside the soldiers of Kislev against the remnants of the Chaos army of Asavar Kul. The Chracian honestly liked the people of Kislev more than the Imperials because they understood what it was like when your home was almost under a constant state of war.
Hearing footsteps from behind, Khorieus saw the barmaid deliver his meal. Currently the Chracian was at a tavern called "La Guerra I Cani" which seemed to be a popular spot for mercenaries. Around them were several humans from Tilea, Estalia, Araby, Kislev, Bretonnians and to his disdain there were even Norscans. Khorieus did notice though the way the Norscans and the Kislevites were looking at each other, it was one of a deep-seated hostility born only of generations worth of bitter fighting.
Among the humans he even noted a scantily clad Truthsayer from Albion with swirling blue tattoos around his flesh. The man from Albion nodded to the high elf to which he returned the gesture before going back to their own drink. The Fleets of Ulthuan had been keeping up regular patrols around the island of Albion ever since that campaign against the Dark Emissaries not long ago when it seemed like all the armies of the world were gathering there. Khorieus himself had fought in Albion along with both his kin and the natives, he had even picked up some of their crude language.
The barmaid arrived with a platter of cold cut meats and cheeses which she set in front of him. All night, the fair-skinned, freckle faced barmaid with blue eyes and blond hair had been eyeing him with a mischievous and calculating look. The barmaid had lowered the section of her garments which covered her shoulders to reveal more flesh, he even noted that the barmaid had loosened her bodice as well and had made quite the effort to show off more of her rather ample bosoms to him.
The high elf was aware that it was a crude and vulgar tactic to acquire tips from him. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at the cheap display, he decided to play along so he did not get spit on the wine he had ordered. He slipped the barmaid a pair of silver coins which she took with a thanks and a playful smile. The woman then gave a look of triumph to the Kislevite woman who grunted with annoyance and quietly called the barmaid a Blayd. Khorieus noted some of the jealous expressions of the human men around him and he knew that he should be ready for a fight soon.
The Kislevite woman took a swig of her bottle of kvas of which Khorieus himself had actually acquired a taste for two centuries back.
'So what takes you to this fine city?' the Kislevite woman asked in her native language
'My armor needed repairs and it was either here or Marienburg where I could find a smith who could mend it' Khorieus told her truthfully as well in Kislevarin. 'And you Daughter of the Gospodar? What brings you so far from Kislev?'
'Well I arrived here with-' the Kislevarin said before she stopped and narrowed her eyes. Khorieus made no move but he could hear the heavy footsteps of four men advancing towards his table. Looking over his right shoulder, the high elf saw a group of rough-looking men clad in haphazard sets of furs, he could tell by the angry looks on their faces that they were expecting a fight.
'Why don't you bugger off cat eyes, this place ain't for milk drinking horse fondlers' said one of the humans in a near perfect Reikspiel.
The human was large blond bearded scar faced man with many pox marks and was dressed in thicks furs which revealed his fair colored muscular flesh. Looking to the other men, he noted that most of them also wore furs as well and were all fair-skinned blonde haired, blue-eyed bearded men with that familiar accent he had learned to hate over the centuries. Norscans he thought with disgust, glancing to the Kislevite, he could tell that she felt the same disdain as he had.
He had seen their kind in Lothern's foreign quarters; it had only been at the intervention of a Marienburg merchant that he did not start a fight. The merchant had explained how in Marienburg they had tried to help civilize and uplift the men of Norsca and even hire them out as body guards. Khorieus scoffed at this as he stayed his hand, in the centuries he knew of the Norse, they were nothing more than violent, raping, murderers and savages who worshipped only the Dark Gods. To Khorieus, the Norse were nothing more than animals like the beastmen who should be put to the sword like all of the slaves of Chaos..
'I am quite comfortable where I am' Khorieus replied coldly to the lead Norscan in their own language. Their tongue was something he had learned as well, it was necessary when he needed to "question" any of the savages, the kind of questioning which involved knives if the one he spoke to was unwilling to share information.
'I did not realize this tavern also allowed Ungors in, how ever did you shave all that fur?' Khorieus then said sardonically with a grin.
The Norscans bristled angrily at this; he could see the lead one's cold and angry look as at being compared to the lowest of beastmen. Already, he was getting ready to reach for his hunting knife before the Norscans could reach for their weapons. Hearing an annoyed grunt from the Kislevite woman, she took one last swig from her bottle of Kvas and she swiftly swung it at the side of the head of one of the other Norscans. With serpentine swiftness the Kislevite woman rose up from her chair and delivered an uppercut to the Norscan she struck with the bottle from under his bearded chin. There was a loud cheer of "Ura!" from the other Kislevite patrons as the man was knocked to the floorboard.
Khorieus quickly moved into action as well, with inhuman speed he delivered a swift volley of punches into the stomach of the lead Norscan. Another man launched a lunge punch at the high elf, and Khorieus blocked it with his right forearm before thrusting his left fist into the face of the man who tried to punch him. The Kislevite woman swiftly delivered a knee kick to the groin of the man she had hit with a bottle, and with a backhanded swing of her left fist, she struck the last Norscan in the back of his head.
Another round of "Ura!" from the Kislevites rang out, a number of the other Norscans gave the Kislevites angry looks and it soon became clear that a brawl was going to break out. The other patrons began clearing out with a number clearly having taken their food or drinks without paying, the Kislevite and Norscan patrons rose up and began eyeing each other with grim looks. The sounds of several knuckles cracked and as one they shouted war-cries in their native tongues before charging at each other while throwing tables, chairs and bottles across the La Guerra.
'Krut' hissed Vanyra Skorrisdottir with disgust as she leapt back to avoid a downpour of filthy water mixed with garbage and human waste which dropped from a sluice and down into the canal next to them. Regaining her footing, she looked back to see Lugo grinning at her, the man held up a lantern in his hooked hand while in his other he carried his dwarf forged mace. The man amazingly seemed to have sobered up while they were in the sewer, he moved with the confidence of a veteran warrior.
'Should be near now' the man said with determination.
'Aye, we are' Vanyra nodded, there were skaven about. She could smell their foul stench amidst the human ones and she could see their tracks amidst the filth of the sewers.
'Little bastards got my arm ya see' Lugo said as he raised his hook 'Gonna make some blankets for my kids with their hides' he continued threateningly.
For nearly an hour now, the man had been leading her through the sewers of Altdorf, she was thankful that there were walkways beside the canal as such she was glade that she did not have to actually wade into the water. Lugo explained that about a year earlier, he and a group of other sewerjacks had been ambushed by skaven warriors when they had wandered too close to one of the ratmen's outposts. Lugo had lost his hand and was the sole survivor of the party; the same could not be said for the skaven.
At the least, Lugo owed it to his deceased friends that the skaven would need to pay for the deaths of his friend. An honourable reason she thought with approval. She remembered some of brother's letters, about how he and his previous parties had on multiple occasions, fought the skaven under the cities of the Empire. She never understood why the humans chose not to believe in the existence of the skaven, it was a testament to their race's foolishness.
The sewers were really what she had expected, a damp stinking place with walls covered in more than two millennia worth of filth. Rats of varying sizes scuttled about along with many vile insects and she could have sworn that there were some strange things swimming in the waters. She had heard stories about wealthy humans trying to show off their wealth by acquiring exotic animals, these were later followed by said noble dumping their exotic pets into the sewers. She wouldn't be surprised if the sorcery and alchemy from the Colleges of Magic had made it down the sewers and altered the beasts as well.
'Where in docks are we now manling?' Vanyra asked for she could still feel the vibrations of the River Reik
'I think we are near the Basilica del la Opulencia' the man said a bit unsure
'The what?' she asked curiously
'Fancy new place where a lot o really rich merchants like ta 'ave parties.' Lugo clarified 'Owned by an Estalian fellow'
'Right, I will take point then' Vanyra said, Lugo stepped aside to allow the dwarf to pass. Moving ahead of the man, she moved forwards with caution as they followed the Skaven tracks. Keeping her crossbow at eye level, she began to feel a bit wary. She knew well about the vile ratkin and their tactics, her father had brought her to the tunnels of the Ungdrin in the past to hunt the cowardly creatures.
She had also encountered the skaven as well on a number when she had been studying engineering in Zhufbar. There was also that one time time back in Barak Varr when skaven saboteurs had tried to scuttle many of the ironclad ships which Vanyra and several other dwarf engineers were working on. Looking to the water, Vanyra's palms began to itch; there was something which just didn't seem right.
'What? What is it?' asked Lugo a bit worriedly as he looked at the filthy water in the canal as well. Vanyra noted what looked to be a thin stick in the center floating in the canal; she looked at it and noted that it was not flowing with the swift current. Realization struck her and she fired two crossbow bolts at the stick, the clacks of her weapon echoed in the sewers as they flew towards and the stick and splashed into the water with impact.
'What in Sigmar's name are ye doing!?' exclaimed Lugo. The water began to turn dark red and a body with two bolts sticking out and clad in black garments floated up and was carried away by the current.
'Night Runners' Vanyra hissed, she then turned to the man with a serious look on her face 'Keep a lookout manling, damn rats have their assassins about.' Lugo nodded in understanding and he further raised his lantern, the two carried on in silence while following the tracks. The ratmen were up to something, Vanyra could just feel it.
Smashing a three-legged wooden stool into a Norscan's face, Khorieus grinned as the savage fell back with a crushed nose. The stools were of a surprisingly sturdy material and craftsmanship for the high elf had been hitting his opponents with as much force as he would with his axe. All around him, it was complete mayhem as Kislevites and Norscans unleashed generations of enmity towards one another.
Using his right hand to grab a bottle wielding Norscan by the back of the man's right wrist as he was about to hit the Kislevite woman Khorieus had been chatting with. The Chracian swiftly twisted the man's arm and the elf smashed the back of the man's head with the stool which Khorieus held in his left. The man fell to the wooden floor and the elf kicked the man one last time in the teeth for good measure.
Laughing in feral joy, Khorieus dearly wanted to pull out his knife and start opening up some arteries. He was forced to remind himself that he was in a foreign land where it would be considered murder to kill even kill the barbarians in a public brawl. He would have to settle with a good thrashing instead.
The lead Norscan who had taken a jealous offence at Khorieus earlier, thrust a broken table leg towards the elf's chest. Khorieus dodged to the man's right in time and brought the stool up so the Norscan's arm got caught between the its legs which had cross-shaped set of wooden bars between the bottom section of the legs. With a pull he threw the man off-balance and delivered a sharp knee kick to where the man's kidney should be. Khorieus then dropped the stool and he grabbed the man by the shoulders and quickly moved towards the man's back where the elf delivered a swift punch to the man's spine.
Roaring the name of his homeland he began pushing forwards, with the now dazed Norscan as a shield. The elf roared in Kislevarin to get out of his way, he shoved past several humans until he hit the open entrance of the tavern. Emerging into the fetid and cold night air of the Street of a Hundred Taverns with his shield still held in place, Khorieus released his grip and the Norscan was thrown forwards with his face hitting the muddy cobblestone earth.
Breathing heavily with an open-mouthed smile on his face, he saw the eyes of many humans glance at him before going back to their affairs. He saw a group of beggars poking the now dazed Norscan with a stick, after a few pokes they descended upon the man like Harpies upon wounded prey, their hands searching for any valuables the Norscan had. Turning back to rejoin the brawl, Khorieus heard a pair of gunshots from the La Guerra and the fighting stopped as the owner began bellowing for people to leave.
The Kislevites left in a hurry while dragging their wounded friends outs. The Norscans it seemed were not as lucky as they limped away on their own. Quickly turning around and deciding to head back to the Embassy for the night, he suddenly felt a hand slap him in the buttocks while giving it a squeeze as well. With eyes widened in surprise, he looked back to see it was the Kislevite woman again, a lascivious drunken smile was etched upon her face.
'And where are you going pretty one?' the woman slurred in kislevarin as she swayed around a bit. Her breath smelled not only of Kvas but other human made alcohols of varying qualities.
'I was planning on retiring for the night' he replied in Kislevarin while sounding offended.
'What? And not give me a goodbye? Winter Visitor!' she said with feigned hurt.
Khorieus chuckled a bit for he found her drunkenness to be comical and he decided to let it slide. He gave her a formal, courtly bow and while bidding 'Do widzenia'.
'Do widzenia to you too pretty one' the woman replied in a flirtatious tone as she gave him a mock salute, she then staggered off down the Street of Hundred Taverns.
He wondered if he should make sure the woman did not get into more trouble, with a shrug it he decided she should be fine, considering how that brawl went. Making his way back to the embassy, he passed by the stench ridden streets of Altdorf, he really wished that he had something to help mask the smell. As he neared the exit of the Docks district, he began to pick up an unusual smell, it was a mix of sewage, wet fur, rotten meat and that sickly sweet smell he quickly recognized as warpstone.
Skaven, he thought with disgust. He had encountered the foul things in the past only once when Lothern had been assailed by the vermin. He had assisted the Citizen Levy and Sea Guard of Eataine, he remembered foul stench of their bodies as they clashed blades with his kin. As memories of that bloody battle came back to him, he clenched his fists tightly in anger and decided to investigate.
Removing his knife from its sheath, Khorieus was now on the hunt once more.
'Ready manling?' Vanyra whispered as she began to ready herself for the coming fight.
'Aye ready' Lugo whispered back. A tense moment of silence passed before Vanyra swiftly pointed her crossbow up to the ceiling and she opened fire.
Four crossbow bolts flew and three bodies fell into the filthy waters with shrieks of pain. She leapt back and nearly struck Lugo as she avoided a pair of Night Runner Shurikens which struck the floor where she had been.
Several more of the dark garbed creatures dropped from the ceiling while others burst from the waters. Opening fire once more with her crossbow, Vanyra cut down five more of the verminous assassins with a well placed volley. Firing another shot which struck a gutter runner in the face, her crossbow began to click and her magazine was empty. Quickly reaching for one of her fire bombs, she flicked off the pin with her thumb and threw it forwards, the canister landed at the feet of one of the Night Runners who looked at the explosive with surprise.
The Night Runner began chattering with alarm to its comrades; it then picked up the canisters and was about to hurl it back before it detonated in a cloud of alchemical fire. The skaven assassins flailed wildly as the fires burned, their agonized shrieks filled the tunnels, some leapt into the water trying to douse the flames, little did they know that even in water the alchemical residue would continue to burn.
'Good throw lassie' Lugo said in amazement, he then gave her a smile and a rather nostalgic look 'Ye really are a lot like old Thori, course 'e didn't carry none o those fancy engineer bric-a-brac.'
'You think that's impressive manling? You should see what others things I brought' she grinned with amusement. Carrying on ahead with more caution they eventually heard a loud baritone roar in the distance from a deep voice.
'What was that?' Lugo asked as he tightened the grip on his mace.
Hearing another roar, Vanyra focused her hearing on the sound was surprised to realize that it was a word "Khazuk". There was another dwarf down here in the sewers and it sounded as if he had found the ratkin.
'Come on manling! We have to go!' Vanyra said as she reloaded her crossbow and the man acquiesced as the two picked up their pace.
The sound of the roar was followed by the high-pitched squeaks of more skaven. The two of them raced on towards the source of the sound, there was a bell which began to ring and in the distance she saw several shapes with red eyes moving towards the sound. Raising her crossbow up, she fired four shots on the run, killing three skaven with one falling into the canal.
A number of the skaven broke off and charged Vanyra and Lugo. To her surprise, Lugo ran past her despite the narrow space, the man praised the name of Ulric as he held his mace high. Swiftly bashing a skaven with his mace and splattering its brains all over him, he parried a sword thrust with his mace and gutted his attacker with his hooked hand. He then launched a right legged round house kick which knocked a skaven into the wall to their right, the man then parried another skaven's attack before squashing the head of the one he kicked into wall with his mace.
All of Vanyra's doubts about Lugo evaporated. Here was a man possessed with berserk fury, he was like one of those ferocious warriors of the ancient Thuringinian Tribe in Kurgan Ironbeard's time, before Sigmar forged The Empire. The fat man howled like a wolf as he smashed and stabbed more of the ratkin in melee, the name of the Lord of Winter and Battle, Ulric was continuously praised upon his lips.
Vanyra of course aided the man by carefully firing at the skaven whenever she had a clear shot. Her mind had quickly calculated the speed at which the man seemed to move and the speed of her own shots. While he had been wild and erratic, she noted a pattern to his style and used it to fire at the openings. The man did not seem to notice when a crossbow bolt flew past him and struck a skaven as he was lost in a berserk rage.
As the skaven were being pushed back by the furious assaults of Lugo and Vanyra, many of the ratmen tried to escape by jumping into the canal where the current would take them away. Of course this simple prompted her to shoot at the ones in the water and soon the filthy water was mixed with the blood of the ratmen. Eventually the two fought their way into a large chamber which was filled with wooden casks at the corners and several skaven both dead and living all over the place with the latter fighting for their lives against another group.
At the other side of the chamber she saw the other dwarf accompanied by two humans of whom to her surprise were the two Bretonnians she had seen earlier entering the Mandred's Glory. Their weapons were bloody as the knight held a mace and shield while the other fellow, the rather handsome looking man was wearing his green cloak over his head and a scarf over his lower jaw while wielding a short sword and hatchet which was also stained with ratkin blood.
More notably though was the dwarf, he was a burly orange crested Slayer who wore a pair of dirty trousers with human skulls around his belt, he wielded a pair of axes which glowed with white runes and generating aura of electricity. She quickly recognized the Slayer as of being Jurgen Olafson! He was the one who had informed her about her brother's passing back in Karaz-a-Karak.
Jurgen bellowed and roared as he charged a black cloaked skaven wielding a pair of glowing bright green blades. They moved with such blinding speed as their weapons clashed in a shower of sparks, Jurgen quickly head butted the skaven assassin wielding the magic daggers. The ratkin staggered back but quickly recovered in time to avoid a scissoring sweep from Jurgen's axes which would have taken its head off.
'ULRIC!' shouted Lugo as he charged into the skaven ranks, the man had sported several cuts and wounds but it was as if he didn't even notice them.
Stowing her crossbow and pulling out her sword and wrench, she roared an oath to Grimnir and charged into the mêlée. Stabbing a skaven in the back and crushing the skull of another one, she deftly parried a spear with her sword before shattering its ribcage with her wrench.
Quickly grabbing a skaven by the back of its neck with the open mouth of her wrench, she thumbed the button to cause it clamp down and the skaven's neck and it was slowly being crushed. The skaven flailed desperately as its spine was being crushed and its tail lashed around wildly. The tail slapped Vanyra painfully in the face, she winced but still maintained her focus, she quickly cut the tail off at the base and the ratkin screamed in agony as blood gushed out from the severed appendage.
Quickly thrusting her sword into the side of its head, the skaven's screams were silenced and she released the body from her wrench's grip. Turning back to the fray, she smelled that disgusting sour smell skaven make when they are terrified, the creatures soon went into frenzy as they tried to escape the deadly quintet of men and dwarfs.
In the confusion, a skaven warrior who tried flee thrust its sword towards Vanyra. The blade screeched against the section of her chain mail which covered her left breast, had she not been wearing it, her heart could have been fatally pierced. With a backhanded swing of her wrench, she caught the skaven in the side of its head but did not have time to finish it off as she was force to impale another one in the gut. Another skaven was charging towards her with a spear held high, it suddenly jerked and fell with its eyes rolling back as a hatchet stuck out from the back of its head.
She briefly saw the dark-skinned man give her wink before he pulled out one of his knives and he went back into the fight. The skaven with the two glowing blades attempted to flee from Jurgen, for a moment Vanyra thought the tattoos on Jurgen's body began to writhe and glow with a mystic light. The Slayer roared in outrage as the one he fought tried to flee, he then threw his axe forwards of which Vanyra noticed was attached to a length of chain at the bottom.
The chained axe flew over the shoulders of the skaven with the glowing blades. Jurgen then pulled the chain and the axe quickly descended like a crossbow bolt and its electrical blade caught the skaven in the front of its right shoulder. The skaven slipped and fell upon its back and began to flail and spasm as electricity coursed through its body, an ungodly stink began to emerge as it was slowly being cooked and its bowels were voided. Jurgen went towards the lead skaven and then stomped his left hobnailed boot over its snout, crushing it like an overripe melon and splattering bits of blood, brain and bone everywhere.
As the last of the skaven either escaped or had been cut down by the five, a tense moment of silence passed as the two groups eyed each other for none had clearly expected to find allies down here. The Slayer tore his axe out from the dead skaven assassin; Vanyra noted that the chains which were connected to the bottom of his axes were connected to a pair of heavy bronze bracelets she remembered not seeing him have before.
The Slayer turned to them and to her surprise she saw that all of his scars were gone, his skin was now fairer and his right eye which had been blind was now healed with a garnet hue like the other one. His beard was still done in a three braid style with a prominent moustache which now ended in a pair of gold bands. Recognition quickly appeared on his bloody face
'Vanyra? Vanyra Skorrisdottir tha be ya?' he said disbelief while speaking in a heavily accented Reikspiel.
'I am surprised as much as you are!' Vanyra exclaimed in Reikspiel and the two dwarfs clasped each other upon the forearms above the wrists.
'You know this dwarf?' asked the surprised and muffled voice of the knight in an accented Reikspiel as he continued to survey the area for anymore skaven.
'Aye' nodded the Slayer as he looked up to the knight 'A friend o mine' he said with a grin.
'What inside these?' the other Bretonnian said in a Reikspiel which was even more accented. Vanyra looked to the wooden casks; she saw warning signs on the casks in Reikspiel. In large red letters it said "black powder"
'Oh krut!' she hissed, explosives, and lots of it!
Looking around she was quickly relieved to find that none had lit fuses or fuses which were in danger of being set off. They heard loud pounding from the ceiling above and there was a sudden charge in the air which caused the back of the hairs on the necks of all of them to stand.
'By the Lady what was that?' the knight asked with alarm
'Sorcery' muttered Jurgen with disdain. He then pointed to the eastern section of the chamber of which was to the right of where Vanyra and Lugo had entered and the group saw that there was a hole behind two stacked barrels. 'I be bettin it be a wayz oop, we ough ta check it an see. One o oos nees ta stay dun ere an watch em barrels.'
'I will do it' Lugo tiredly said as he had tried to catch his breath since the end of the fight. 'Gettin too old for this' the man said as he waved them to go ahead.
'Right! Le's be goin then!' shouted Jurgen as he and the Bretonnians began removing the casks.
Sniffing the fetid air and following the faint smell of warpstone, Khorieus made his way to a darkened and empty alley. He had drawn upon the magic of his cloak to conceal himself from the sight of others as he hunted; behind him was a path into another series of alleys which were well-lit and cleaner than a number of the previous ones he had seen. Ahead of him though across the alley, he could see a pair of street lamps and the back of a large opulent (at least by human standards) looking structure. He guessed by the look of the structures he had recently passed, he was in an area where wealthier humans had resided.
Surveying the area, he noted the smell began to lead upwrds. He saw a number of windows, balconies and ledges on both the brick buildings which surrounded the alley he was in. Placing his feet upon the ledge of a metal barred window on the ground floor, he used it to leap to a stone balcony on the other side. When his hands latched on to the balcony, he pulled himself up swiftly and began the process of carefully scaling the two buildings.
It was just like the campaign he had fought alongside the Shadow Warriors in Anlec. Druchii Corsairs and Autarii had landed in the city searching for lost wealth and relics, the loyalists Nagarthyians did not take kindly to the presence of the Naggarothi. It had been a harsh yearlong campaign fought upon the rooftops and the ruined homes of elves long dead. He had been forced to learn to scale structures either with his bare hands or with the most minimal of tools, they had to coordinate and plan ambushes against a foe who were masters of ambushes. Although many Shadow Warriors died, the campaign ended with every Druchii involved nailed to a twisted liandrin tree, a number were not quite dead yet as they were left to bleed out as the ravens of Morai-Heg prepared to feast upon them.
With his hands finally reaching the top ledge, he quietly pulled himself up to the sloped tiled roof of an Imperial building. This could be a challenge he thought, carefully climbing up the slope as easily as a cat would, he slowly but meticulously made his way up. When he arrived he noted the smell of warpstone was now stronger. The sky brightened as the moon of Sariour now gazed down upon the world, looking about he caught the smell of the skaven he had been hunting was close.
Quietly climbing to the top of the roof where there was a narrow flat section, Khorieus eventually got to the ridge with his left arm tightly over it, his white and yellow robes were now stained with filth. Looking around he saw a black-robed creature hunched over and looking to building across the street. The creature did not seem to notice him and it looked to be holding something, what it was though, the Chracian could not tell from his angle.
Reaching for his knife, he held the blade by the tip, with a few testing swings as he gauged the distance and the direction of the wind, he prayed to Kurnous and he threw the knife. His hunting knife flew straight and true and it struck the skaven in the back, the skaven straightened up and shrieked in pain but did not fall, Khorieus used this time to get upon the flat ridge of the roof. As the skaven tried to pull out the knife, it heard and smelled Khorieus and it turned in time for the Chracian's knee strike its snout.
Before the creature could lose its balance and fall, Khorieus used his right arm to hoist the vile creature up by its filthy garments and he began to pummel it with his left fist. It squeeked in pain as the elf rained punches upon its chest, it quickly brought out a pistol from beneath its garments to which Khorieus grabbed its wrist and twisted it, breaking the bones and causing the gun to fall upon the steep slope and into the alley below. Khorieus then smashed its furry face into the tiled ridge multiple times, and causing a number of tiles to break.
Suppressing the urge to gut the vermin or snap its neck, he was more than a bit curious about what it was doing. Planting his right foot over the side of its head as it lay upon the ridge, he grabbed and twisted his knife before pulling it out, the skaven shrieked in pain once more and it went silent. He was not sure if it was dead or if it had passed out, or perhaps even faking it, just to be sure he punched the side of its furry head once more and was satisfied to hear nothing.
Looking to where it was crouched, he realized that it had been using some strange sort of rifle. While he himself had little experience in the use of firearms, for such things were of the makings of dwarfs, he has seen how destructive they could be. Studying the crude weapon for a bit, he noted the cylinder on top which resembled a looking-glass. He also noted the rifle which was pointing at one of the windows of structure across the street while it was carefully mounted on a three-legged stand which reminded him of the Kislevite Streltsies. Curiously he also noted an hourglass in front of the gun's stand which was already empty on the top section.
Placing his right eye into the back-end of the looking-glass while holding the rifle in the way he had seen human soldiers do so. He saw past the glass window in the building ahead, inside he could see a wide brightly lit ballroom where several humans in a mix of outrageously colourful or flamboyant designs dancing in a well coordinated series of columns. One human in particular caught his eye, a pale skinned and red lipped human female with a lustrous black hair which was styled into several curls on the side.
She wore a purple gossamer dress with puffy sleeves, several bronze buttons which descended in a V pattern to dark gold belt. The woman wore several pieces of silver jewelry on her person with amethyst stones laid into it and what was most distinguishable, he could see the purple wind of Shyish surrounding the woman. The woman he instantly recognized was Rosalind Amsel, a Battle Wizard Lady of the Amethyst College, what was she doing here he thought?
Rosalind danced with a paunchy bald-headed man in a black military uniform. He had white facial hair which covered the flesh between the nose and the lips and it extended down in an arch which reached the sides of his lower jaw. The two then stepped away from each other simultaneously from the other humans and as one the humans all gave each other a bow. Khorieus suddenly felt a rush of Aethyric energy from the building and he saw Rosalind look to something north of her, the humans around her soon turned their heads to the same direction.
He then heard a distant crack of a gun being discharged northwest of his position, a glass window from the side of the structure suddenly shattered. The Aethyric shield which surrounded Rosalind flared brightly enough that even the mortal eyes of the surrounding humans could see it. Swiftly raising the rifle from its stand, Khorieus searched the area where he heard the sound emit.
After a few seconds he saw upon a rooftop a pair of humans struggling with one another. One of the humans soon fell and the one which remained was looking about frantically. The remaining human then carefully made its way to the edge of the ridge and it knelt down and picked up a long-barreled rifle, the human then slowly began making its way down the roof top it was on.
'What in Hoeth's name?' Khorieus whispered Eltharin with a bewildered tone.
Looking back to the building ahead of him, he saw the humans were still looking at something which caught their attention. He looked back down to Rosalind who was warily looking around, she then suddenly looked up directly towards him, he could see her eyes glowed with arcane light as she used her Spiritsight. Rosalind nodded towards him, and Khorieus lowered the rifle.
Looking back to the Skaven, who still lay there slumped on the ridge, he knew that whatever was going on, he was going to find out what it was.
'Redee e'ryone?' Jurgen Olafson said as he looked down to the two Bretonnians and Vanyra.
They were currently standing on a flight of wooden stairs which led into a wine cellar. With a collective word of acknowledgement, the Slayer grinned mischievously and he slammed his bulk into the wooden door ahead of them. From Vanyra Skorrisdottir's view behind the two Bretonnians, she saw a bright light ahead which blinded her for a moment.
She heard Jurgen bellow 'avin a partee withou oos? Naw tha jus be rood, manlings!' he shouted with good humor.
'Oh who the hell are you!?' shouted a voice in an accented Reikspiel which sounded a bit like the way the Bretonnians sounded.
As the two Bretonnians ascended, Vanyra quickly followed with the green cloaked man in front of her. Emerging into a brightly lit hall of polished marble stone with a clear dwarf quality to it, Vanyra saw that ahead of them were several men in ragged patchworks of armor, there were a number of bleeding bodies as well in the hall. The men ahead of them wielded many cheap swords, cleavers, cudgels and various improvised weapons.
The Knight shouted something in Bretonnian at the men; none of them seemed to understand as they began to look to each other unsure on what to do. One man who looked to be a leader of sorts was wearing a full set of chainmail armor and a tabard which depicted a white background and thee black symbols of what looked to be towers. The man looked absolutely surprised at the knight; he quickly ordered his men to attack the four as he raised a pistol at them.
'Koom an ge it manlings!' Jurgen shouted and he charged in with laughter as the knight dropped his mace and pulled out a sword which glowed with a cyan light.
The green cloaked Bretonnian followed them with his bloody short sword and recovered hatchet, Vanyra as well charged into the fray with her sword and wrench which still dripped with skaven blood. Many of the humans were cut down by Jurgen's furious charge, the two Bretonnians fought as well with expert skill. She heard the discharge of a pistol strike against the knight of whom was briefly wreathed in white light, and the knight remained unharmed.
Vanyra parried a downward chop from a cleaver wielding man and she smashed her wrench into the side of his left knee cap. As the man collapse she struck him in the face with the pommel of her sword before ducking under a cudgel sweep which would have struck her in the dead. Swiftly thrusting her wrench into the groin of the cudgel wielder who attacked her, the man shrieked loudly in pain as he grabbed his manhood.
Vanyra then slapped the man with the flat of her wrench and knocking him out. Although she would have no qualms in killing these humans who were trying to kill them, she was not sure how well the local law enforcers would take it if she went about killing humans, even if it was in self-defense. Vanyra felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand again; she looked to see that among the men they fought there was the sorcerer who had begun casting a spell.
The sorcerer was a bald, pale skinned man wearing azure robed with a cloak of black feathers upon his back and at a closer look, the sorcerer was completely hairless. The man's eyes glowed with multicolored light as he raised a dark wooden staff with a dead crow tied to it. Rushing towards the man who was casting a spell, she was too late and a bolt of azure fire burst from his staff, the fire bolt struck Jurgen who roared in pain.
To the sorcerer's surprise, Jurgen did not collapse but instead he fixed the sorcerer an angry look as his tattoos glowed brightly. The sorcerer then began another spell, Vanyra was now upon him and she roared Grimnir's name. Swiftly thrusting her sword into the wizard's chest, the tip of the blade clanged off in a flash of azure light as if she had struck an opponent wearing heavy plate armor. The sorcerer looked at her and he pointed his left hand at her which to Vanyra's surprise looked like a raven's talon.
The talon-like hand began to glow with azure light as the sorcerer began casting a spell but was interrupted as several bolts of purple energy struck his magic barrier on his left. The dark bolts sent an unnatural chill into Vanyra's veins as the sorcerer was staggered by the unexpected attack. The sorcerer looked to direction of the bolts and was struck by more dark purple bolts, Vanyra heard the man begin chanting more foul words which were painful for her ears to hear.
Jurgen was quickly upon the sorcerer, his lightning axes savagely smashing against the sorcerer's barrier which began to flicker. More dark purple bolts began striking the sorcerer; his barrier began to weaken as terror began to etch upon his face. Taking the initiative, Vanyra leapt forwards with her wrench held high and she roared Grimnir's name.
Vanyra's wrench dug deeply into the front of the sorcerer's skull. She heard a sickening crunch as the wrench shattered through his skull and jellied his brain and his eyes rolled up. As the dead sorcerer fell upon his back the bloodied marble floor, she saw that several of the ragged humans try to escape; many were cut down by Jurgen who gave chase while shouting insults in Khazalid at them. The two Bretonnians briefly gave chase before moving back to secure the area.
The lead man, the one who was speaking in a Bretonnian accent now lay upon the marble floor, injured, but alive. Hearing a series of footsteps coming towards them, Vanyra looked to see several garishly dressed humans wearing all sorts of jewelry approach them. The men were at the least standing protectively in front of the women, a number of them held weapons, but most looked like they did not know how to use it.
Ahead of the group of humans came a bald-headed paunchy older human man with a white mutton-chop beard in a black but almost grey doublet and trousers with several gold medals over his left breast. The man carried a sword of an ancient Tilean design called a gladius in his right hand; it glowed with a soft white light. Beside the man was a purple dressed woman with black hair, pale skin and she was wearing a dazzling array of silver and amethyst jewelry. The woman's eyes briefly glowed with a purple light as an unnatural aura of cold surrounded her, another mage Vanyra quickly realized with trepidation as the purple light faded from the human's eyes.
'It seems we have you brave adventurers to thank for this evening' the paunchy black clothed man said in an accented Reikspiel which sounded what Vanyra thought was Tilean. 'Isn't that right?' the man said as he looked back to the men and women behind him and after an unsure moment they began clapping and cheering for them.
'We have another member downstairs beneath the cellar, you won't like what's down there' Vanyra said as she raised her right hand.
'We should have a look then' the paunchy man said 'Lorenzo, Einhardt with me' the man ordered and from the crowd came two men. The two manligs had the looks of men used to the hardened life of mercenaries; they gave a sharp salute to the paunchy man who looked back to Vanyra.
'Would you care to lead us Signora?' the man asked with a slight bow.
With a nod, Vanyra turned back to the cellar door, she wondered, was there some sort of connection with the humans they had fought and the Skaven bellow? It was possible, for she had read that there were humans who collaborated with the ratkin. A deep feeling of unease towards the Umgi began to well up within her as she led the men down to the cellar.
Kneeling down to pick up the now broken pistol which had fallen from the roof, Khorieus was forced to tear off a bit of cloth from the sleeves of his robes to safely hold the weapon for he could smell the foul warpstone which was was loaded within it. Looking back to his "prisoner" which to his surprise was still alive from the thrashing he gave it, the skaven had on its person a long length of rope and a metallic claw which looked to be a grappling hook.
He had used the grappling hook to descend from the rooftop with the skaven firmly between the crook of his left arm and his torso. As he descended, he was worried that it may awaken and try to bite or claw him, he did search it for any concealed weapons, but one never knew with these things. Afterwards he had cut some of the rope and used it to bind the Skaven.
Standing up know with what he believed were all of the rat thing's belongings, he knew that next he should investigate the building where he had seen Rosalind. He felt the furious exchange of Aethyric Winds within the building which quickly subsided, looking back to the Skaven, he supposed that he should drag it with him.
As he was about to make his way, he felt a faint shift in the Winds, it was the familiarly cold and refined weave of the Amethyst Wizard. Looking to the end of the alleyway which was now darkened by the shadow of Rosalind Amsel, Khorieus was relieved that at least he would not have to carry the foul thing any longer, for among the uses of the Lore of Death was the ability gather information from the dead.
'Fraulein Amsel, a pleasure to see you again' Khorieus said with a smile and a formal bow.
He had grown to respect the Lady Wizard during their previous battle against the remnants of the Beastmen army which had retreated from Nordland and Middenland to Loren Lacoi, or the Great Forest as the Imperials put it. They had also fought alongside each other on more occasions against beastmen, greenskins and other things on the way to Altdorf.
'And to you as well, Herr Alatanrieth' the Battle Wizard Lady said in her whispery tone as she gave him a formal bow as well. 'I see that you have been busy this night?' she asked as she looked to the skaven behind him.
'Not as busy as you have been I see' the elf said with a faint smile.
Feeling another shift in the Winds behind him, this one was different now, it was one which seemed very faint as if a great distance away and yet he knew that it was only a few feet away from him. He looked back to see a wizened old human male with well-groomed hair which was combed back, his beard as well had been neatly trimmed and he wore a grey velvet garments made in a style used by the human nobility. The very shadows around the man seemed to writhe with a life of his own, a Grey Wizard, Khorieus realized, a practitioner of the Wind of Ulgu, the Lore of Shadows.
The Grey Wizard appeared behind the skaven, he glanced at it before looking back to Khorieus and giving a formal bow as Rosalind had
'I thank for your unexpected assistance Herr Alatanrieth' the old man said in a very cultured voice.
At a closer look, Khorieus could see that the old human's eyes were grey and they swirled with a shadowy darkness which danced around it 'I am sure you are curious about tonight's events'.
'That would be an understatement' Khorieus nodded with a reply. For many centuries, the Chracian has had many experiences dealing with mages and their ilk, he had grown quite used to their eccentricities and habits.
'Fraulein Amsel had told me about you, Mein Herr.' The Grey Wizard said 'Although I cannot force you, I believe that you can be a valuable asset in aiding us with a "delicate" situation, one of which I can assure you will lead to many great battles'. The Grey Wizard's words piqued Khorieus interest, and here he thought Altdorf would get boring.
'Then by all means' Khorieus said with a nod 'I am sure I can provide whatever assistance I can, to the allies of Ulthuan, Herr?'
'Stefan von Wurtbad' the Grey Wizard introduced himself as he clicked his heels. 'I was confident that you would be interested' continued the Grey Wizard 'Just hold still for a moment'.
The Grey Wizard then began whispering words of power and the Wind of Ulgu began to engulf the alley. The lights from the nearby candles the street lamps as well as the candles within the nearby buildings began to flicker as they nearly went out. After a moment, the lights began to burn normally, and from within the alley, there was nothing left but dust and masonry.