The Lost Patrol
It had been four days since the Chaos incursion had been driven back from Warehari, a small village to the south of Wolfenburg. Already the majority of the burials had been finished, and repairs had gone underway. Now I do my duty as Sigmar's finest, leading patrol upon patrol into the marshy waste rooting out any of the reaming humanoid taint upon the land.
It is a perfectly horrid day for hunting Chaos though. Fog limits my vision, making me barley able to see more than a few meters in front of me. It causes my skin to pimple, the chill air almost a foreboding omen that death is too occur this day. I laugh at myself,
"Of course there will be death," reassuring myself "the blood of the wicked and vile will flow this day". Then I hear it, the sound of armour crunching upon soaked, half frozen grass. The sound perks the men, they ready their guns to fire. I raise my hand to hold their fire. The crunching grows louder, it assaults my ears. It is almost like to sound of bones being crushed and chewed. Then it burst from the mist, silent but charging. It's glistening black armour washed in blood, most likely the blood of fallen innocents and warriors, I lower my hand. The first volley cracks like rocks against helmets and stops the warrior of the dark gods in his tracks.
He falls lifeless to the ground. I walk to the downed warrior, half my patrol follows me while the rest reload their handguns. I reach the downed beast, quickly I lean down to it. Blood pours from its helmet and body creating a crimson lake with winter beaches of grass.
Then I hear something, faint at first. I think it is my heart beating in my ears after this rage blinded warrior burst from the mist. But it is no pattern from the body. I stand quicker than my men expect, they are startled. Quickly they ready their weapons preparing for more of the metal monster that march from the north. But instead of the foe I know and hate, greater beasts appear. They drag with them the bodies of my enemies, not knowing their intentions I demand "What are you beasts? And what is your business is the Empire of the Mighty Sigmar?"
Only low throaty chuckles come from the monsters. Then I see the true danger me and my men are in. They have us surround, the fog hiding them. And like a cat waiting for a mouse they waited for the opportune moment.
"Nothing little human," the biggest one replies, I smell the rotting meat on his breath, "Just having us some fun out of the mountain. " More chuckles come from the closing ring of monsters. Then we truly see them, beasts the size of two men in height and three men in width, their earth coloured bodies covered in war paint, intestines, and heads of fallen Warriors of Chaos and beast that even I do not recognise. The men are afraid, I can feel it in the air, the omen of death.
"I demand to know your true business in our land!" I try to say with the demand of a grand warrior, but instead I sound as if I have yet to bed my first women my voice warbles so much. "Damnation," I think to myself. The men can hear my fear and it is then that their hearts break and their fate is sealed.
"Why sacred little humans, you not want the help of Gut Tusk clan to hunt metal men?" the largest one taunts. He knows I have shown weakness and presses his advantage. "We's will hunt more metal men for price, of course." More chuckles, they have the advantage in every way. For no matter what they stand to gain.
"For what price will the Mighty Sigmar be charged for your valued services?" I say as I attempt to regain some control. Seeing my conviction broken the men cower in fear of the great monsters. The monsters chuckle again, however, it is not in their superior tone that they used before. But one born of hunger. I am losing valuable time to convince them we are better alive then dead.
"Sees boys, these little human wants to bargain," he boasts to the ring of eyes filled with unfulfilled hunger, "Whats say us boys, what dose we want?" he asks the growing crowd. Many replies come forward. Cannons, weapons, and armour. Gold, treasure, and wealth. Slowly their demands grow more and more extravagant, far out striping the supplies of the village. Then it happens, the fuse to lit the fear growing in my men's heart.
The largest one suggests "The womens to cook the animals and childrens, and to give us some afters later!" the group roars with cheers. Their demands finally agreed upon, that is the spark. My men bellow with defiance. Shouts of fatherly love, devotion to ones wife, and bravery sound at once as they fire their guns. I roar with the guns and charge the leader.
But, what chance did we really have. The guns barley stager the beast and the charge of my men is met with broken bodies and clubs. They quickly fall like dolls in a little girls play when the big dog scares her away.
I leap to strike the beast with my hammer blessed with Sigmar's wrath and smash the beast with all my might. The resounding crunch fills my ears with satisfaction, he falls back. I give myself some premature congratulations as I think the leader to be slain, buying time for the village. But it returns to its feet faster than I can react and grabs both of my arm and lifts me off the ground with ease. He growls in my face "We's was gonna leave the men," these are the last words I hear before my screams drown out the world as he rips my arms from their sockets.