The cold air which filled this darkest of nights was but a pale thing when compared to the fear which gripped the very soul of Johan Steinman. Underneath the thick canopy of trees, his only source of light was a single lantern which he held in his left hand while the other hand held on to a loaded flintlock pistol which had seen better days. The Imperial huntsman knew that during nights such as this, when only the witch moon of Morrslieb could be seen in the sky, sane, pious men should be within their homes and praying for safety.
Tightly clutching the old pistol which was good for only one shot, his natural instincts told him to just forget this foolish endeavor and run back to town. The thought of his home, Valdenhoff made him think twice of running back for the danger they faced was worse than before. Again, the Beastman tribes of the Drakwald had gathered into a mighty herd, the Graff was already assembling an army to defeat the monsters but until then, what chance did the towns and villages within the forest have against such numbers?
Refugees from their neighboring settlements have already flooded the streets and Valdenhoff, thievery and riots were rife as their food supplies dwindled. Worse still, scouts and vanguards of the Beastmen herd had already been spotted. Even if they did arm and train every man woman in child in the village, they would still stand no chance against the herd whose numbers did not include just the simple Gors.
Tales from the refugees told of the more monstrous and dread things among the Children of Chaos, Minotaurs, Jabberslythes, Harpies and Centigors were but only a few of the things which traveled with the herd. There were also tales of dark armoured northmen warriors from the Brass Keep who traveled with the herd, raiding, raping and pillaging all those who stood in their way. Darker tales were also told of a mighty daemon of plague and pestilence was leading this army.
The militia of his town only had hunting bows, a few firearms, spears and axes to defend themselves and had little in the way of armour or artillery. Against such a force of the Ruinous Powers, the folk of Valdenhoff knew that they were doomed and when it seemed that hysteria and panic would break out, Old Man Hans made the suggestion of visiting the Wolfenhexe.
Many in the town had scoffed at the old man's idea for a few months ago he had been madly raving about a witch who lived in the woods and kept around wolves for company. Everybody knew that the forest was home to many unnatural creatures and that the only people who would choose to live alone were either the mad or the damned. The matter would have been quickly settled had it not been for Sieghart, a well standing member of their town's militia who then vouched for Hans.
Sieghart had told them the tale of how when he had recently been out on patrol before the current troubles with the beastmen began; he had been ambushed by a party of spider riding goblins. The militia man would have met his end had the goblin ambushers in turn had been ambushed themselves by a pack of wolves. The wolves were, according to Sieghart, the same kind often used by goblins and at first he had thought that perhaps it was a rival tribe of greenskins until he saw the witch who ran with the wolves.
Sieghart was not quite clear about what had happened after but Johan remembered how two weeks ago, the militiaman had become deathly pale and he ended up bed ridden for days under the care of the village's Rhyan priestesses. Then there was Lukas, the butcher's son who came forward with his own story, about a week ago, his cat, Herr Pounce had run off into the woods chasing a mouse.
The boy who was also a well liked member of their town had gone after the cat and in the forest, he too had been attacked by a beastman. The boy claimed his life was also saved by the witch who ran with wolves and like Sieghart, he was not quite sure of what happened afterwards but what was known was that the boy returned to the village, pale and sickly as well but not the extent Sieghart had been.
One of the local priests of Taal suggested that perhaps this witch may actually be a wizard, a mage of their Empire's Colleges of the Magic, one who practiced sorcery related to animals of the wild. Many of the townsfolk had heard the tales about solitary wizards who could commune with natural animals and were as much the enemies of the beastmen as any pious man was. Of course, most of the people were actually wary about the idea of consorting with a wizard in the first place but Johan's mother had reminded them of a lady wizard who had passed by their town a few years earlier, the wizard had used her magic to help their crops grow and cleanse the water in the well.
The debate was renewed until desperation and fear had overcome their judgment, in the end they had agreed to send someone out to visit the Wolfenhexe, for if this witch was indeed a battle wizard, then this person would be their best hope. It was unanimously agreed that they would draw straws to see who should go and by all the rotten luck in the world, it was Johan who drew the short one. Now here he was, in the middle of a beast haunted forest, looking for a weaver of powers no mortal should even wield.
Old Man Hans explained that the Wolfenhexe lived in a cave to the north, not far from the town. The cave itself was known to the people of Valdenhoff for it supposedly was once the home of a herd of beastmen who took the form of rats. There were a number of ridiculous stories regarding this beastmen herd, such as them knowing about science and machines like those engineers from Altdorf or Nuln, absolutely ludicrous he thought for beastmen even struggled to put together simple tools such as spears.
The coldness of the night air seemed to become colder as Johan drew closer to where the cave should be. He began to break out in a cold sweat as he picked up an animal smell and he saw the paw prints of wolves upon the ground. The howling of wolves could be heard not far from behind him; he glanced back and saw the glowing eyes of the animals as the light from his lantern gave them a hellish visage.
Swiftly pointing his flintlock at the wolves, his right arm began to shake, his fear intensified for he knew that his pistol was good for only one shot. If he fired at the wolves, he would not have enough time to reload before the pack would be upon him. Stepping back and shaking with terror as he tightly clenched his bowels, the wolves maintained their distance, away from the huntsman whose mind raced with regrets about his current predicament.
Fighting down the fear in his gut which threatened to rage into a full blown panic, he turned away from the wolves and continued to follow the route towards the cave. His nerve-wracking journey brought him to the mouth of a seemingly natural cave which was littered with dozens of bones around the entrance. Gulping down a lump in his throat, he cautiously advanced towards the cave, with his lantern held high and his pistol at the ready.
Upon a closer inspection of the bones, he saw that they were mostly animal-like, especially those of large, overgrown rats. Yet here and there he saw bones which looked like it belonged to an orc, a goblin, a goat headed beastman and most worryingly, even a few which looked human. Looking back again to see the wolves drawing closer towards the cave but still maintaining their distance from him, Johan felt like he was a rabbit caught in a cage.
Within the darkness of the cave, at the edge of the dim glow of light, he caught a pair of eyes glinting and watching him from within. Upon contact with those eyes, Johan found himself standing transfixed by the twin orbs, he suddenly then lost his nerve and the urge to run away engulfed him but his legs betrayed him and remained rooted in place. A whispery voice began to ebb into his ears and he felt compelled to follow those eyes into the darkness.
His legs began to take a will of their own and they carried him deeper into the cave, one slow step at a time. His boots crunched over the bones which surrounded the cave, he saw a mass of glittering eyes upon its roof and he realized that they were bats. Dozens if not hundreds of bats were staring at him with hungry eyes; he began to recall a number of childhood horror tales his father had once told him.
Johan's father had been a Free Company mercenary who traveled around much of the Empire. The man had fought in many battles against Men and Monsters but among the worst places his father had campaigned, none was more feared than the haunted lands of Sylvania. A land ruled by nocturnal monsters which wore the faces of men and drank the blood of innocents were also said to be fond of keeping around animals such as bats and wolves as pets.
Hearing a sudden clatter upon the ground, Johan's train of thought was broken as he noticed his right hand gripped only air. He had dropped his pistol! Terror began to renew itself within him and he wanted to go and try to find it but found that his body no longer obeyed him. The light within his lantern suddenly extinguished and Johan sight was plunged into darkness.
His heart began to beat loudly like a drum within his chest, his bowels felt almost ready to void itself, he wanted to turn away and run, but he found that he just could not. He felt himself moving deeper into the cave, the air had grown evem colder and the hairs upon the back of his neck began to stand as his skin broke out in gooseflesh. The whispering voice suddenly then ceased and an emerald green fire lit the darkness.
For a moment, Johan was blinded by the light, he tried to raise his right arm to shield his eyes and to his surprise, his limbs obeyed. Cautiously lowering his arm, Johan found himself in a chamber which was littered with strange metallic machinery. Various gadgets, gizmos and other bric-à-brac he would associate with the College of Engineers lay strewn about; many looked damaged or outright broken.
The emerald fire which banished the darkness was placed upon a brazier made from bars of rusted iron which held a rat-like skull. The hollow eyes of the giant rat skulls glowed with the unnatural fires, giving them a nightmarish look as they leered with sharp toothed grins.
A soft series of steps began to echo across the cave, he looked towards the source of the steps and his eyes widened to see what stood before him. Clad in scraps of animal hides and a mask crafted from the skull of a wolf, he saw the pale shape of Wolfenhexe. Rather than seeing a shriveled hag, he saw that the witch he had dreaded seeing was voluptuous woman whose bare flesh gave way to excitement within Johan.
The Wolfenhexe slowly sauntered towards Johan with hips gently swaying. The Witch's hair was long and black, her stride and bearing reminded Johan of a highborn noble woman. The witch's eyes were the color of a deepest black as if he were staring into a pair of obsidian stones which were ringed with white.
'You are brave, or perhaps foolish to enter my abode… little man…' came the sultry voice of Wolfenhexe whose head gently tilted to one side.
'I…' said Johan fearfully as he felt another lump in his throat, his gaze were locked upon the witch's ample breasts which gleamed under the emerald light. Reminding himself of his reason for being here, he managed to pluck up the nerve to continue. 'I am here...' he said distractedly as the witch who was a full head shorter than he was, lifted a slender, pale hand which stroked his bearded chin, the witch's touch was cold like that of stone.
'Do you seek my aid for your village, little man?' came the seductive purr of the witch's voice.
'Y-yes' he stammered 'How did you-'
'I know many things that go on within these woods' interrupted the witch as she traced a long delicate finger nail across his chin, it felt more like the tip of a dagger was lightly pressing against his flesh. 'I would agree protect it, on one condition…' the witch then said 'a temporary pact.'
'What is your price then?' Asked Johan hesitantly for he began to have a foreboding feeling that it was going to be something like his own soul or the blood an innocent virgin if he went by the stories he had heard as a boy.
'I am so lonely here in this cave…' purred the witch as she began to slowly circle around him like a wolf would when facing prey. 'Often I find myself in need of company other than those of my pet' she explained in her seductive tone, the witch who was now behind him, brought up her slim hands between his arms and her hands held onto his chest with a surprisingly strong grip 'keep me warm this night, then come the morrow convince your fellows to do the same for me and I shall give your village the protection you all… desire.'
His feeling of fear and lust towards the witch intensified, he knew that he should agree to save his town, but something at the back of his head told him that this was a devil's bargain, surely it was more than just one carnal night. He was forced to remind himself once more that there were some real devils out there in the forest. It was only a matter of time until those daemons set their sights upon Valdenhoff.
'I will' whispered Johan with more fear than certainty as he glanced back and saw the masked face of the Wolfenhexe 'I will talk to my neighbors and I will try to convince them to agree to your price.'
'Good…' whispered the witch as she tightened her grip upon him. 'Now let me see… how much you are willing to pay' she said rather cryptically, Johan felt his body no longer obeying him once more. He felt the witch press her lips upon the side of his neck, there was a sharp but brief sting of pain before his body was overwhelmed by a feeling of pleasure and ecstasy.
A few nights later…
With hungry eyes did Goreg Mould Gut look upon the human village which was protected by a flimsy wall of wood logs which were sharpened at the top. He had once been a mighty leader of his people, once he had been the Tyrant of his own tribe, who had traveled the world as mercenary Maneaters. Their last employment which had been so many years ago had been under the commission of some spiky armored elves from across the sea.
The elves had paid them good gold to wreak havoc upon the humans of the Empire, and as a mercenary, he had learned never to ask why. They had done well at first, their banquets and feasts of man-flesh had satisfied the hungry bellies of his tribe and the treasure they looted ensured them that when their job was done, they could buy even more food with it. The campaign then ended in disaster when the human soldiers of the Empire came, armed with black powder weapons and foul magic, the humans were also accompanied by four elves who proved to be even deadlier than the humans.
Now here he was in the middle of this cursed forest with only a few of his remaining kin, their females were all gone and their young either have either been devoured by the Ogres themselves or the beasts and greenskins of the forest. They had also eaten all of their gnoblars years ago and had tried to replace them with goblins but the runty creatures were more untrustworthy and dangerous. Goreg had lost several of his clan against the treacherous goblins who led the ogres into ambushes from giant spiders.
Their flesh had been warped and altered, tooth filled maws which lashed out with serpentine tongues had appeared over their bodies, each maw spoke their tongue and each one demanded meat and flesh. Goreg himself had developed a series of a dozen spider-like eyes which were scattered around his head. It must have been all the beast-flesh they had eaten over the years he thought, for there was hardly much else to eat within what the humans called the Drakwald forest.
In recent weeks, the remnants of Goreg's tribe had encountered the mighty being with a girth greater than their own. A monstrous daemon of pestilence and decay which promised them a mighty feast, should they swear to serve it. There was something about this daemon, (probably its prodigious gut he thought) which seemed very convincing with its offer.
After they had accepted, Goreg soon found himself in an alliance with several of the beastmen his kin had once hunted. In the days since they had accepted the daemon's offer, the ogres had fed well, better than they had in years. The feasts of meat from humans, greenskins, mundane animals and various other things had made their fealty to the daemon worth it.
With hungry eyes did Goreg look upon this village, his warriors stood ready, their meaty fists clutched the ends of massive cudgels and stone weapons. He still had two Lead Belchers who assured him, carried enough black powder to level the settlement's defenses as if it were mere kindling. Grinning evilly at the town, Goreg lifted his mighty cleaver towards the human settlement and he gave a loud, boisterous roar which was followed by the voices of his fellow ogres and the beastmen which now followed them.
As he roared, Goreg noticed something off with the voices of his troops. He heard the howls of wolves and as far as he knew, he didn't notice any wolf headed beastmen among his warband. The wolf howls drew closer and he heard a loud series of high pitched shrieks in the air, his warband noticed this as well and both Beastmen and Chaos Ogres were warily surveying the forest around them.
One of the runty beastmen began to point and gibber at something to the north of their warband. The heads of many of his warriors turned their gaze towards whatever it was the ungor had pointed at and they saw several lupine shapes emerge from the forest. Goreg recognized these wolves as of being the kind often used by goblins as mounts and yet none of them bore any of the small greenskins.
One of the wolves had eyes which were shining black obsidian pits, it howled a mournful cry towards the green moon and soon Goreg began to smell something new yet old. It was the musty smell of dried bone and old leather which was mixed with the familiar, sickly sweet stench of dark magic. The Chaos Ogre Tyrant looked towards where this smell came from and he saw several skeletal shapes south of their warband. One of the skeletons which looked like it may have once belonged to a Skaven, pointed a rusty sword towards Goreg's warband and a wave of skeletal skaven, orcs, goblins and beastmen began a mad dash towards Goreg's warriors.
Hearing bells echoing from the human settlement, Goreg saw torches light up as humans began to run about on the ramparts of the wooden wall. Bellowing a curse, the Ogre Tyrant knew that the element of surprise was now lost and the humans would begin firing arrows at them. Bellowing orders to the Lead Belchers and ordering them to open fire upon the walls of the village, Goreg suddenly saw a swarm of black winged bats descend up the two.
The Lead Belchers bellowed in rage and pain as the bat swarm cut and tore into their flesh, the thick hides of the ogres proved resilient to the attacks of the bats but such was their sheer number that in time, the swarm began to cause some serious injuries. The Lead Belchers swung their cannons about, crushing the bodies of the bats but always, there seemed to be more and more of the flying vermin.
Anger rose up within the Tyrant as the Lead Belcher deviated from the plan, he saw the glint of something shiny flying over the heads of his warriors and he heard the crash of shattering glass amidst the voices of his warband. A thick green smoke began to engulf his warriors; beastmen and Chaos Ogres coughed and began to choke as the gas they inhaled caused them to bleed from their eyes, ears, noses and mouths with many choking on their own gore. Quickly stepping away from the spreading cloud of deadly vapors, Goreg soon began to feel several sharp stabs of pain upon his bulk.
Quickly looking down to see several arrows sticking out of his mutated flesh, several more of the projectiles thudded into his flesh and the Tyrant bellowed in pain. How could this have happened!? he thought. One moment they were about to raze and massacre this town and then suddenly, it was his warband who were being killed.
Anger boiled up within him, the urge to just march of towards the human settlement and butcher everything began to appeal to him. Loud booms emerged from the walls of the village and Goreg roared in further pain as lead bullets slammed into his body. The agony he felt was intense, his howls echoed across the sky as both meat and bone were shredded by the black powder weapons, The Ogre Tyrant staggered back from the shots and it was testament to his warped constitution that he still remained standing.
Having risen to the position of Tyrant through a mixture of both cunning and strength, he knew well enough that the odds were greatly stacked against him. As Goreg was about to sound the retreat of his warband, he felt something land upon his back and more pain washed over him as something sharp stabbed into his back. Thrashing about while swinging his arms, he heard a loud hissing sound behind him and he began to feel a new, unnerving sensation.
An unnatural chill started to course through the Ogre Tyrant and he began to feel so very tired. As if all the years he had lived had begun to weigh down upon him, Goreg noticed with horror that his skin had begun to shrivel with age. The Chaos Ogre Tyrant did not even have time to realize that he was dead before his body transformed into a mummified husk.
Looking upon her handiwork with more than a bit of cruel satisfaction, Meike von Königsbrandt licked the brackish blood off of her sharpened fingertips. The foul taste of Ogre-blood was strongly mixed with warpstone, it seemed that the brutish creature had consumed way too much mutant flesh. She wondered with curiosity if it were possible to extract the solidified Chaos Magic from the blood of such creatures.
So much death and in such little time! She thought with delight. Perhaps she should also see what else she could scrounge up from the skaven burrow? There might be some amusing toys there as well.
A wicked smile creased upon the Vampire's face as she stood underneath the shade of an oak tree, away from the walls of the settlement. Dawn would be coming soon and perhaps she could sleep on it over the coming day. The mortal town was safe for now and the inhabitants had been good on their word to send fresh little morsels her way, she had fed better in these last few nights than she had in recent months since she had begun her studies of the Grimoire.
Giving a mental command to the wolves, bats and skeletal minions, Meike retired from the field. No doubt that the chaos horde which had been riled up within the forest would send more of their warriors. Let them come she thought with anticipation as the Beast within all of her kind which desired to rend flesh and cause bloodshed had reared up.
Let them come she thought once more for the Vampire was always happy to have something to play with…