For three days, the small company was wandering in the forest, without finding what it was searching there. This place was only a few miles from Drakenhof. Drakenhof, the a thousand times cursed castle where live the von Carstein dynasty since eons. Drakenhof and its area were literally corrupted by warpstone. It was whispered a piece of Morrslieb crashed on the land during the Comets Rain which took place in thousand and four hundred years earlier, thus infecting the earth itself with a corrupting malignancy. The inhabitants of Sylvania were usually reluctant to show happy and healthy, those of Drakenhof bent constantly under the threat of disease and mutation.
Four men were hunting something. They came from afar.
One of them was born in Nuln, the "Jewel of the Empire." His name was Frantz. He was a blond young man, barely an adult, but had lost the enthusiasm of youth, after seeing his village devastated by a horde of Orcs. Only the vengeance by bloodshed enemies of the Empire motivated him now.
Beckett, the second reel was a tall and thin figure, with a long red moustache. He hold between his hands a long harquebus topped with a scope that significantly increased his chances to shoot a target at long range. Originally from Altdorf, he was taciturn by nature, and never spoke of his past, nor the reasons which had led to this path.
Back stood the oldest member of the small company. A dwarf, encased in a leather doublet, named Klemet, was watching the rear of the group, a large double-bladed axe in his hands. Curiously, he was more talkative than Beckett, and was very talented to boost the morale of the company, with famous Dwarf bawdy songs. But he had not the heart to sing, merely muttering some unintelligible syllables in his brown beard. He dared not show it, but he was not really serene.
It wasn't surprising when you know that these four men were the only survivors of a company that had counted a dozen. And the leading man, the captain, was thinking about it while cutting branches on his path with his hatchet.
Hallbjörn Ludviksson came from Norsca, this distant land in the north of the Empire, beyond Kislev. Norsca was the direct door to the Realm of Chaos, where no sane soul thought to wander. He had faced repeatedly demons. One day, a horde of berserkers to which he belonged was defeated by a contingent of Chaos warriors. This defeat had surprised and irritated the Norse. He and his comrades had been more numerous, more motivated, and yet they had been overflowing, and finally slaughtered.
Hallbjörn understood the demonic servants had received something that had lacked the Norse, a science called "strategy", which allowed to take advantage of all the parameters for elaborate complex plans of attack and defence. He decided to go south in the Empire, to find a master to teach him this knowledge. He began his education by enrolling in the military academy of Altdorf, and took the tape.
If he had learned a little about mass fighting and various rank formations, he was mostly involved in "special missions". Involuntary involved in a vast conspiracy of servants of Khorne, the Blood God, he understood that the Old World wasn't quite as simple and straightforward. He could have spent a few weeks at home, and teach what he had learned. Then Graf Boris Todbringer of Middenheim had sent him accomplish a particular task.
Although imperial soldier, he had acquired the status of "shadow hunter". On his right hand, the god Ulric himself had printed his mark, a symbol representing a wolf holding between its paws a hammer. It was the sign he was chosen to unite the faithful worshipers of Sigmar and Ulric under one banner against the enemies of the Empire.
And therefore, the Graf had sent him a reconnaissance at the other end of the Empire, in the greatest secrecy. Here, deep in Sylvania, the Undergrowth Terror was hiding. Local stories spoke of a monster, a battalion of undead, mutants... he had to check it out. Hallbjörn wasn't the closest special agent to the problem, but he belonged to people of Norse, what encouraged the Graf to designate him. Norse people, more accustomed to Chaos, were inherently braver and more aggressive. Hallbjörn was entrusted with the command of a small battalion of eleven volunteers. For them, it was a sort of "rite of passage" to climb a rung.
However, since they had left Altdorf, everything went wrong. First, one had finally deserted. Then, beyond Nuln, a band of Orcs had attacked their convoy. Two dead. The descent to the river Stir was not quiet either, and three of them had succumbed to the arrows of a pirate ship wreckers. Arrived on the outskirts of Mordheim, the City of the Damned, greed had pushed one of them to make a detour to the abandoned city, known to contain many treasures. There he only found damnation, this place being full of very dangerous substances, including warpstone, the crystallization of Chaos energy, whose contact caused death, or worse, mutations. Beckett needed just one bullet to end the suffering of the poor man. Finally, they had went past Vanhaldenhof, and were driven into the Sinister Wood, where huge and wild wolves had eaten alive the youngest member of the expedition.
So they were now only four. Finally got to where was the famous "Undergrowth Terror". It promised to be hard. Nature itself was hostile. Trees, numerous and close, were all black, their branches and trunks were twisted, their grey and hard leaves crackled under soles of their boots. An icy wind blew in the ears of Frantz who shuddered.
- Captain?
The Norse turned to the young Imperial.
- Yeah, what is it?
- Have you the same weather in Norsca?
Indeed, the sun never appeared, as a blanket of grey clouds obscured the whole sky. The round shape of the golden disc appeared vaguely, its rays failed to warm the skin of the face of the cadet. The Norse, tall, blond, with a neatly trimmed beard, corresponded to the archetype that concerned northerners. He was accustomed to such a weather.
- Yeah.
- It shouldn't bother you too much?
- I can even say for me, it's good. No rain, no snow.
- Captain!
Beckett had frozen, hand lifted. No one moved. The gunman murmured:
- I've heard something...
Suddenly, he turned on his heels and raised his rifle to one of the trees. The harquebus growled. The bullet struck the trunk, and something fell from the tree with a shrill cry. Immediately Klemet and Frantz threw themselves on the individual and restrained him in a heartbeat.
- Rat! barked the Dwarf.
Hallbjörn widened his eyes in surprise. No doubt, the groaning, struggling vainly in the arms of his two men being was a Skaven. A rat-man, flesh and fur.
It was not the first time that the Norse saw such a creature. He had already done some "cleaning" during patrols in the sewers of the city. Two things, however, were not normal. To begin with, the Skaven rarely ventured outside in the countryside, and preferred to stay in their underground cities. Then he was in a sad state. Covered in blood, eyes bulging, mouth foaming, trembling like a leaf, probably scared to death, not because of the four soldiers.
- We're gonna make this rat face cry! Frantz growled, pulling his dagger from his belt.
- No! cried the Norse of hands.
Klemet and Frantz lifted up their prisoner by force. It didn't even defend. He stammered:
- Mercy-mercy! Not hurt Skousîkh! Skousîkh scared-terrified!
The Norse remained stoical. The Skaven was moaning and sobbing, traumatized.
- Kneel him! Hallbjörn ordered.
- Gotta slaughter him! said the Dwarf.
- Let it bleed, as the Chaos crap it is! Frantz gritted between his strained teeth.
Beckett had already drew his sword and advanced. The Skaven again cried in despair. Hallbjörn held the shooter, placing his hand on his chest.
- Stop it.
- Captain, you won't...
- I told you to stop! Range your weapon, soldier. And you, hold him, but do not overtighten!
The Norse crouched near the Skaven. He spoke calmly.
- Listen, meathead: I think you know something. A Skaven alone wouldn't never stay here.
- Skousîkh nice-obedient, man-thing! Please not kill me!
Hallbjörn seized the chin of the prisoner, its jaw clenched between his thumb and forefinger to immobilize, forcing it to look in his eyes.
- I won't kill you. You tell me what you do here, and then I let you go. Got it?
- Y... yes, oh big and strong warrior! the Skaven hardly articulated.
- Be careful, if you try to escape, my friends will tear your head and tail off! Clear?
- Oh yes, oh yes, noble and powerful lord!
The captain released his grip, and asked quietly:
- Good. What are you doing here? Skaven are always moving in band, especially when they go to the surface!
- True-true, but Skousîkh... too scared. Too awful.
- What is scaring you, Skousîkh?
The Skaven whined louder.
- Skousîkh follows Grey Seer Krasteech.
- A Grey Seer! Klemet repeated. There's a Grey Seer around here!
- Bad omen, Beckett murmured with a mournful voice.
- Grey Seer Krasteech said: "Many warpstone here-there, at dead-things land, take it!" So, our terrier moved-moved to new location. Band near-close of a... a... Skousîkh not know. Big stone-wood hutch where men-things sleep.
- A house?
- Yes! Large, very large house. Grey Seer Krasteech said: "wait, gonna go pick warpstone, I come back." Left to mouse... err, house. We wait a night, then another, then another, then another... Krasteech no come back. And then, finally, Grey Seer returns. He very happy-glad! Says "Krasteech has house, house for us-us. Krasteech ate man-thing lived the house".
- So, you bivouacked in the house.
- Yes-yes, oh sublime gold-furred fighter! Then we spent two full moons in. Krasteech said, "I will give orders for the glory of the Horned Rat". Then we waited. Again and again. But Krasteech not give orders. And Krasteech... change.
- "Change"? repeated the Norse. How so?
Skousîkh loudly swallowed his saliva, and a small tear dropped from the corner of his eye. Hallbjörn realised he would have to remember the most painful part of the story.
- Come on, pal. It's over, anyway. I promise you have nothing to fear from me. Talk, you'll feel better.
- Is it true, O great man-thing incarnated god?
The Norse looked his three stooges one by one, and said:
- Do you understand? When he said everything he knows, let him go.
- You're crazy! Klemet shouted.
- Captain, you're not serious! Frantz added.
Hallbjörn stood up, and stared at the young man.
- I'm the captain, I'm your commander, I am the one who decides, soldier!
Then, returning to the Skaven:
- Keep talking.
- Yes, great-wonderful-good lord! Krasteech do not give orders, just wants to bring men-things and beasts to eat. We obey, but not orders yet. And then he became... different.
- Different? How different?
- Skousîkh didn't understand. Either Bâghinz nor Kradoss. Nobody understood. Krasteech increasingly angry, shouts more and more often. After two moons Krasteech speak no more, give orders no more. Only squeak-cry and eat. Skousîkh was very afraid, and finally chose to go and find another terrier where live. Krasteech too... unhealthy. Crazy. Dilapidated.
- Okay, I understand. You know something else?
- No-no, no-no! Sworn-promise!
Hallbjörn thought. He knew a little Skaven people, and seeing one in such a state was rather unusual. Typically, Skaven feared their leaders, rightly. Leaders constantly inculcated fear in their underlings to suppress any revolt attempt. It was normal. See a Skaven talking about his Grey Seer in these terms was far more disturbing. The Norse vowed to redouble his vigilance.
- Where's this house where your master hides?
- This way, this way, squeaked Skousîkh, showing a direction with the tip of his nose.
- Good. Klemet, Frantz, release him.
- My Captain! cried the young man.
- That's an order!
The Dwarf reluctantly loosened the stranglehold of his fingers on the arm of the Skaven. Frantz pushed him firmly. The wretched ratman rose swiftly, and mumbled, still incredulous:
- Thank you, thank you, O magnanimous magnate beautiful!
- Beat it now. I never want to see you!
Skousîkh didn't need to hear this twice. He made off as fast as he could, and disappeared into the mist in a few seconds.
Beckett winced.
- This is madness!
- This is pity! replied the Norse. And that's the difference between us and them.
- A fucking creature of Chaos doesn't deserve pity! Klemet spat.
- I thought Dwarves were careful with honour?
The Dwarf blushed with anger.
- How dare you doubt my honour, captain of my balls? I recorded the killing of my family by this crap in the Great Book of Grudges! Letting go one is insulting my parents, my brothers and sisters!
- Fight against Skaven invading your fortress is one thing. Execute a disarmed Skaven begging for his life is an other.
- But they all are like that! protested Frantz, who had also faced Skaven in Altdorf. Always whining to coax you before backstabbing you!
- This one was really scared, Frantz. Real trouble happened, even for him. And we are soldiers, not assassins. Anyway, he won't run far. Listen.
All were silent. After a minute, they heard barking and soon terrified screeches that quickly muted. Skousîkh wouldn't find another terrier. Hallbjörn continued:
- No need to stain our weapons him, he wasn't worthy. As for you, Klemet, another insult and insubordination, and I mutate you to stewardship. We'll see what your ancestors will think about it.
The Norse had learned to take advantage of his rank. At his homeland, this kind of question was settled with fists, but he had been long explained that discipline was essential to run an army. This element, which was sometimes a cruel lack to Norse warriors, could even make the difference between victory and defeat. It was therefore important to remind who was in charge with the right way to prevent spillage.
It worked. The Dwarf did not answer, merely muttering into his beard. Beckett took advantage of the respite to sit on a tree stump, and reload his gun. He asked:
- Captain, you're pretty lenient for a Norse. I thought your people were merciless to his enemies?
- I have my reasons. Now, enough talk! Let's go!
The shooter had finished his operation. He stood up and put his arm over his shoulder. The posse went on his way.
While walking, Hallbjörn thought about the Skaven, and the real reason that prompted him to give him a little chance to escape. A few years earlier, he had worked as a mercenary for a rich notable of Altdorf. This one, fascinated by Skaven, used to study them seriously in the greatest secrecy. He even managed to capture a young female in transit between two Skaven cities. The notable had collected her, tamed her, and the latest news, she even started talking. Hallbjörn was attached to this harmless little thing, called Heike by his benefactor. This taught him the Skaven could be Humans, if they were treated as such.
- "Sublime gold-furred fighter!" Klemet repeated with a chuckle, trying to warm up the atmosphere.
- It does not matter, Klemet, growled the Norse. You have to defend your honour, but I command. Remember.
- Captain!
Beckett had called the Norse nervously, trying to contain his voice to remain as unobtrusive as possible. Hallbjörn raised his hand, demanding to stop the little band, and joined the man with long whiskers.
- What, Beckett?
- I've heard something.
Driven by a reflex acquired from his early years, Hallbjörn grabbed his heavy warhammer with his both hands. All four listened. Dead leaves on the floor creaked under the weight of something. Suddenly, half a dozen wolves sprang from everywhere, surrounding hunters. Beckett drew his gun and shot one. Hallbjörn looked more carefully. Wolves were common in Norsca and with the influence of the Winds of Chaos, they were generally larger and stronger, and often had few mutations. Those looked normal but were still very sturdy. A malignant gleam sparkled in their wards.
The four warriors gathered together, back to back, blades high, ready to defend themselves.