Kurt stepped forward from the crowd and faced the Witchhunter.

"There is no need for any more violence here Braun."

The Witchhunter tilted his head to the side, raising the brim of his hat slightly. One of the man's eyes were green, the other brown. He trained his disconcerting gaze upon Kurt, sizing him up.

"You address me as Sir, or you don't address me at all. And I'll be the judge of whether violence is necessary here." he raised his pistol from Alexander's forehead, and pointed the silver barrel directly at Kurt. "You understand me?"

Kurt sensed Derrick moving forward, and put out an arm to stop him. He raised his other hand toward Braun, palm open.

Play the game Kurt, you know the rules well enough…

"Yes sir, you're in charge here, of course sir. I-uh-I just meant that I didn't think that we should…jump to any conclusions here-sir."

One too many fucking sirs

Braun raised the brow over his green eye. "There's only one conclusion to be had here... mister?"

Kurt stared down the barrel of the pistol "Reinhold- Kurt Reinhold."

Braun grinned, but there was no humour in the expression. "Well Mister Kurt Reinhold, you'll shut your mouth and keep it shut in my presence, 'lest I 'conclude' you are in collusion with the Chaos spawn behind me."

A woman in the crowd let out a cry and fainted at Braun's words. Terrified whispering erupted as the Witchhunter turned back to Alexander, and struck him across the face with his pistol. The Kislevite slumped in the grip of men who held him, unconscious.

"Bind his hands and feet behind him- chains, no rope. And make sure they're good and tight!" Braun barked. His withering gaze fell across the gathered townsfolk. "Get back to yer homes, you bloody mongrels!" The crowd dispersed in seconds, families retreating to their dwellings as fast as their feet could carry them.

Kurt turned back to Derrick. "Come on, you heard the man."

Derrick began to protest, but Kurt held up a hand. "Not now boy. You shut your mouth and do as I say, or so help me I'll beat you unconscious right here and now."

Derrick grimaced beneath his bruised and bloody face, and nodded.

--

"And where in the name of the Gods were you?!" Kurt asked Goliuth as he entered the Longhouse. The ranger raised his hand to silence his friend while he closed the door. Derrick sat at one of the large feast tables in the center of the hall, dabbing his bruised face with a wet rag.

Kurt threw up his hands and turned away from both his friends, walking toward the huge fireplace at the far end of the log inn. He looked down at the small smoldering fire, as Goliuth spoke. "I gathered our arms from where the villagers hid them when we first arrived."

Kurt turned back and Goliuth tossed him his sword. He indicated two large satchels he was carrying, and tossed them on the table next to him. The ranger leaned back against the log wall, and as Kurt approached he saw he was already wearing his old garments.

Goliuth was a tall, broad shouldered man, with dark hair and stubble on his face. His eyes were quick, his face lean and handsome. A sinister dark elf cloak of black metal scales hung over equally black jerkin and leggings. Silver chainmail glinted at his joints, and an ornate sword hung from his belt.

Kurt nodded in approval of his friend's martial dress "Good thinking. We're going to need our blades, thanks to our fearless friend over there."

Derrick remained silent while Goliuth nodded. "I watched, though from afar."

"I could have used your help with the hunter- he nearly shot me down in front of the entire town" Kurt said, emptying a satchel on the table. Goliuth nodded as Kurt pulled off his shirt and picked up his armour. "Had the trigger of his pistol moved a hair, he would have had an arrow in his ear." Kurt looked up at the ranger, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you friend. At least you have not lost all your wits."

Derrick slammed a fist on the table and stood."I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" he yelled. He ran his fingers through his long brown hair, and shook his head. "I lost control…I- I've never felt so angry." His young, proud features were streaked with regret. "I still barely understand what happened…did I imagine Alexander throwing me with his mind?"

"I'm afraid you did not," an accented voice called out from above them. Kurt turned in bewilderment, as at the top of the staircase stepped Victor Trealubhumen. He wore his usual green robes, to match his swirling emerald eyes.

"Alexander Putroyvich is no ordinary man, this I felt the moment I laid eyes upon him." Victor said, his smooth black staff thumping on the staircase as he descended.

"A little warning might have been nice" Goliuth muttered, as he helped Kurt finish buckling his armour. The silver breastplate and large steel shoulder guards glinted in the firelight. Kurt checked his fencing sword and handaxe, before responding to the wizard.

"So, you knew that Alexander was a danger and didn't deign to tell us?"

Victor reached the bottom of the stairs. "My powers gave me an inkling as to his potential, not a clear indication as to what he was."

"And what is he? More importantly, what's going to happen to him?" Derrick asked.

The room fell silent.

"You know the answer to both of those questions" Goliuth said quietly.

Derrick shook his head "No- no he saved me. In the water, the barrels almost crushed me and he held them."

Victor's expression was somber. "Indeed he did, Derrick. But it changes neither who he is, or what will happen to him..."

Derrick looked at Kurt, but the old outlaw refused to meet his gaze. "Kurt, you can't let this happen. Gods know I hate Alexander but he-he doesn't deserve-"

"-to burn…" Kurt finished. He looked into Derrick's eyes. " He's been touched by the Dark Gods. He can do things no ordinary man can. He almost killed you."

Derrick closed his eyes. "The fight was my doing, he defended himself."

Victor sighed "I agree, and yet his cover has been broken. There is no going back."

"It's what's best" Goliuth said. "Better death than what he might do if he succumbs to Chaos…"

"But we don't know he'll turn!" Derrick protested, standing.

"We don't know he won't" Kurt replied. "Don't tell me you've never seen this happen. What do you think happens to the deformed children fathers leave in the wild? That they prance around with wood elves all their lives? They die Derrick- they die for the danger they pose-"

"-potential danger. Alexander can refuse to use his power, or turn it towards good, like a wizard!" Derrick said, pointing to Victor. "What makes you so different from him?!"

Victor stroked his goatee "Less than you would think," he replied softly. "But I cannot move objects through will alone- I have to tap into the Winds of Magic. Alexander's power is his own, part of his mutation."

"So we're going to let Braun burn him." Derrick said, a note of resignation in his voice.

"What are you going to do, kill half the town to save the man you almost drowned half an hour ago?" Goliuth asked. "Because that's what it would take- Magnus and all the rest, they'll try to kill you out of fear. Fear that you are in league with the dark powers. Do they deserve death any more than Alexander?"

Derrick closed his eyes and shook his head "Sigmar no. This is my fault. I hate Alexander. I hate him so much it scares me…but I can't let him be executed. I couldn't control myself, and now he's going to die."

"I won't lie to you. I won't pretend this isn't your fault" Kurt said evenly, staring into Derricks eyes. "It is. You're going to have to live with this… but his fate was inevitable. Every child knows the truth- when Chaos taints you, your life is forfeit He may be a bit odd now, but his power will grow and fester within him like a sickness. Then one day he'll lose control and take someone's life…like he almost took yours. And on that day he'll hear voices whispering horrors we dare not imagine in his ear, and he'll give himself to the darkness…"

The fire sputtered at Kurt's words. For the briefest of moments the shadows danced ominously across the wall, and the four men were not alone in the room. Kurt shivered.

Derrick slumped down into his seat. No one spoke for long moments.

"Goliuth" Kurt said, breaking the silence "go and quietly find Justice."

The ranger nodded and slipped quietly out the door. Kurt turned back to the others. "I think its best we leave, I pushed things too far with Braun. As soon as he's done with Alexander, he'll start looking at us with a suspicious eye."

Victor nodded "The reputation of Imperial Witchhunters is well known, even in my homeland. The kill without mercy, and any who question their methods soon find themselves the target of investigation." He looked at Kurt. "I suspect that even now, our friend Marius Braun is sowing seeds of fear amongst the townsfolk who call you 'friend'."

Derrick stood up slowly. His eyes were rimmed red, his square jaw set. "You all go on without me. I'm going to stay and watch."

"Why?" Victor asked, puzzled. Derrick turned his steely gaze toward the wizard. "Because I never want to forget…what I did."

Kurt nodded somberly, picking up the bag of Derrick's armour and weapons. "Your sword stays with me."

--

The others waited outside the walls of Hammerfast at dusk. Goliuth had been forced to carry the sobbing Justice outside of town.

No one had moved to stop him.

There were no goodbyes, no fond farewells. Simply a nod between Kurt and Magnus, the town Headsman. The two men had grown fast friends over the past few weeks. Now they were strangers again. A dangerous traveler and a frightened peasant. Whatever bonds of fellowship had been forged, whatever understandings had been reached…were gone.

Kurt had avoided the village center at all costs in his preparations to leave. He had nearly made it out of Hammerfast without seeing Alexander again…but then he had sighed and turned back.

He found himself walking a path he had been on a dozen times before…the march to the gallows.

Of course this time there were no gallows, no row of men standing with their necks in nooses.

Instead there was lonely figure chained to a pole. The combination of the fight with Derrick and Braun's pistol butt had severely bruised the Kislevite's weathered face. His face and bare chest were covered in blood from his broken nose. He had looked up at Kurt's approach. The Kislevite had smiled serenely at the old outlaw.

"Hello Kurt."

"Hello Alexander."

"Nice day, is it not?" Alexander asked.

Kurt nodded, looking up at the sunny sky.

Alexander continued "It was grey earlier, but is has cleared up. I think it vill be a lovely night."

Kurt looked at his feet "Not as lovely as it might have been, were I a braver man."

Alexander shrugged "We both have roles to play, I think, ya? I am the monster, you are the hero."

Kurt let out a laugh. A strained, humourless sound. "I'm hardly a hero."

"But I am still a monster…" Alexander said softly. Kurt didn't say anything.

"I can at least thank the Gods that I did not turn before I died…perhaps I might have a place in the afterlife."

"I hope that is so" Kurt said. He walked slowly over to small town well a few meters away. It was rarely used, reserved only for dry summers when the river ceased to flow. He reached in and began pulling on the rope. Soon a water-filled bucket was in his hands. Kurt turned back to the curious Alexander, who watched as the outlaw tossed the water on dry wood and hay at his feet. Kurt went back and refilled the bucket again, and again, and again. A dozen times and more he doused the wood and tinder with water.

Finally, he was done. Alexander looked below, then back up at Kurt. "Do you think it will work?"

"I think it will." Kurt replied.

"We were never friends… not really. I thank you for this" Alexander said, his eyes watering slightly.

Kurt nodded once. "All of us sinners deserve a little mercy."

At dusk, Kurt watched from the edge of the forest with the others. Justice was slumped with her back to a tree, exhausted. Goliuth had disappeared into the woods somewhere. Victor stood next to Kurt.

Jeers and cries rode on the cool twilight air. The Witchhunter's voice rang out against the night air, and was answered by a cheer from the crowd. A plume of black smoke curled lazily over the town. A dull orange glow gradually appeared over the center of town. A long while passed. No one spoke. Kurt thought he smelled cooking meat. His mouth watered involuntarily, and he nearly threw up.

The moon was high and the glow over the town had subsided when Derrick finally appeared at the gate. He looked much older. Kurt wondered if there had always been so many lines of age on the young mans face.

No one spoke then, they all simply began trudging away from town. Victor led them on the narrow trail away from Hammerfast, and Kurt watched as the village receded behind him. He felt the forest close in around him, and had never felt so glad to be away from what wise men called 'civilization'.

At one point he looked over at Derrick and asked him "Was it quick?"

Derrick shook his head. "No. But the wood was wet. The smoke put him to sleep before the flames ever touched him."

Kurt said nothing.

With the group reeling from the events at Hammerfast, the party can move forward. Who is the mysterious Professor, and what exactly is he excavating that has killed 6 men already?

I won't tell you what it is...but I will tell you that lull is officially over, and the storm is about to begin!