Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer Fantasy or Monster Girl Encyclopedia.
Chapter 3: A Hymn for the Dying
Gotrek was standing in a small clearing between the wrecks of two coaches, hunched wearily over the awesome weight of his axe, glaring from one to the other. His long orange crest hair and beard moved wildly in the wind. Wearing only tattered trews, piercings and spiraling blue tattoos the dwarf gave no care to the cold.
The vehicles were gaudily painted in bright, primary colors, rails and trims picked out in gold paint that shimmered in the torchlight of the men picking their way through the scattered debris.
The body of the passenger nearest to Felix was peppered with arrows and a dark splash of blood coated the ladder to the driver's platform. The second had been turned onto its side and gutted. A lantern had been slung from its undercarriage, casting a hesitant pall that advanced a way into the forest and then retreated, over and again, like a rat around a trap. Smashed boxes littered the ground, spilling what looked like face paints and glittering costumes over the forest floor.
A group of travelling players, Felix thought with a familiar wrench, probably hoping for sanctuary in the mountains.
Foes ahead, a Chaos warband behind, and who knew what else was waiting for them in the Middle Mountains. The forces of darkness enclosed them on every side. With a glance to the solemn rank of trees, Felix loosened the collar of his red cloak. For a moment he had almost felt the shadow around his neck.
"Over here, manling," Grunted Gotrek, a little less of the usual flint in his voice, and gestured behind him with a jerk of the head.
Felix pulled his fingers from his collar and straightened his back before stamping over to join him. The Slayer lowered his axe and glanced aside as he approached. If Felix didn't know better, he'd think the dwarf was actually sorrowful at seeing the player's grim fate. His single eye was bloodshot, as if the pupil had been struck from behind with a spear. His enormous muscles trembled with the effort of keeping him upright.
Sigmar, what would it take to make the dwarf sleep?
"You need to rest and a new plan," Felix said. "The old dwarf ways not as secret as you thought they were?"
"There's a lot of ground between us and the mountain road yet," Gotrek growled back, then shook his head with a clink of gold. "I didn't wake you to argue. I have a new rememberer for that. I wanted you to see something before we head further from the Wolfenburg road."
"I know that, but still–"
"This way, manling," Gotrek said, lumping his axe once more to his shoulder and trudging away between the two wagons. "Just a little further."
Even from the overgrown outcropping that jutted from the forest to overlook the Wolfen Vale, Felix could smell the blood. A sprawling city that could only have been Wolfenburg, the capital of Ostland, blistered the earth like burnt and puckered flesh. Banners of tattered skin flew from its battlements, lit from beneath by candles of human tallow. Like a pumpkin carved into a nightmarish mask and then set around a candle, the shattered walls gleamed with thousands of individual points of light.
The breaches in the city's walls had been packed with polished skulls, and her lights now shone through the eye sockets and fracture wounds of her people. The alpine wind blowing through those walls returned the dead their voice, a haunting moan that filled the sparsely forested bowl of the river valley.
The great stone bastion of the Elector's Palace stood within an inner ring of fortifications, all now half demolished, a moat of rubble around a gutted citadel from which the fell symbols of Chaos glared out over the city.
Nearby, the granite keep of the Knights of the Bull stood in a similar state of ruin. Rising between them like a judge from its promontory atop a rugged scarp was the remnants of the chapter house of the Order of the Silver Hammer. The ancestral home of the Knights of Wolfgart – the Witch Hunters, as most men knew to fear them – had been subjected to a more comprehensive pogrom of desecration. Even from afar, the deep warpstone glare emanating from the crater made Felix's stomach turn.
He had seen Kislevite stanitsas ransacked and burned. He had seen the gruesome tribune poles that had dotted the oblast and that even the crows dared not overfly. Every man in his company brought talk of destruction, of smashed armies and broken cities, and Felix had believed every word. But this was the first time he had seen first-hand for himself one of the great cities of the Empire in ruins.
And it wasn't over yet.
On the road before its walls, two vast armies collided. Ten thousand banners danced like daemons on hot coals. Hundreds of mounted northmen with colored pennants streaming from their short lances ploughed through endless blocks of heavily armored and hideously mutated infantry. Beastmen battled each other in churning whirlpools of froth and fur. Bursts of dark magic charred the air. Ogres in blasted plate mail bellowed, islands of brute power in a sea of foes. Huge, muzzled beasts sent gouts of flame rolling through the melee, immolating fighting men by the score.
It was a cauldron of noise.
There wasn't an Imperial banner in sight. This was a battle between the gods of Chaos, rival champions feuding over scraps and favor.
Felix turned away, sick.
"I wanted you to see this," Gotrek said. Scrawled with tattoos of doom and dishonor and worn haggard by many months of bloodshed, the Slayer looked as much at one with his time as Felix had ever seen him. "This is what your Empire has become now, manling. Wherever you go this is what you will find. As sure as the stones of Everpeak, Middenheim is the last city of man. That is where the little one will be waiting for you. There is nowhere else to go."
Felix simply stared over the opposing hordes in numb horror. There was no end to the Chaos Gods' appetite for carnage. When the Empire and her allies were broken and the world was theirs, would they then fall on each other like this until only one champion remained standing? And then what? What kind of world would one ruled by Chaos be?
Felix couldn't imagine. He didn't want to.
"I think this is the moment our paths truly diverged between you and I, manling," Gotrek muttered softly, as if sorry to intrude on Felix's thoughts.
"Diverge?" Felix asked muddled, still staring at the unbelievable act of violence being staged in the valley below. "What are you talking about?"
"That this is where fate pulled us apart from one another… or destiny if you prefer," Gotrek said with a shrug, then nodded down. "I recognize now that this is the point in time when we begin to tread are own separate paths, you walking down one road manling and I another…. As it had always been preordained by powers, I confess I do not know."
Felix didn't bother to look as if he understood what the dwarf was saying to him it seemed as if Gotrek had finally gone mad.
"Yes, yes I see that now," Gotrek continued. "I heading towards my doom at long last and you towards that world with a crown of gold atop your head," The dwarf paused for a moment. "Swear to me you'll polish my axe manling."
Polish his axe?
He really has gone insane; Felix couldn't even lift Gotrek's axe. What use could he possibly have for such a thing? Plus, the dwarf seemed perfectly able of continuing to polish it himself just fine on his own.
Felix cast his gaze away from the slaughter below, towards his right leg when he felt something cold and metallic touch his skin. His eyes widen when he found it had been the flat surface of an axe who had kissed his skin.
Gotrek's axe.
He was holding it in his right hand.
XxX
Felix awoke from his dream of days gone by, but unlike before there were no beautiful women beside him this time. He wasn't even laying on a bed or inside a room.
He sure as Sigmar's teeth wasn't nude. He was wearing his full black plate armor, helmet and all with the visor down covering his face. He was standing on the rampart of the outer wall, facing the endless forests and the small thin plain close to the walls that had been made by felling hundreds of trees over the years.
And Felix wasn't alone.
All around him it looked as if the entire outer wall garrison had been mustard, manning their positions waiting for something to happen.
"My lord if I might be so bold, "Felix looked to his left to find Frederick Storlsaid standing beside him. "Why did you command us to man the walls in full force?"
The former poet was glad his helmet's visor concealed his face from view otherwise all would bore witness to Felix's astound face. He could not recall making such an order, the last thing he remembered was turning in for the night after checking the noblewomen and the priestess for inhuman features.
Thankfully there were none.
"And where did you get that immense axe?"
Axe? What axe?
Felix felt as if his eyes had bulged from their sockets once he saw he was holding Gotrek's axe. His right hand grasped the belly of the axe. A gold chain linked to the weapon's pommel was tied tightly around his forearm.
In the same exact fashion Gotrek had done all those years ago.
Before Felix's mind could even begin to process what, he held in his hand someone nearby cried out.
"The enemy approaches!"
XxX
(The Mutinying Monster Army)
Helena frowned when she saw her foe lined in single file on the walls shoulder to shoulder in full force. She couldn't find a single spot of space that had been left vacant. It seems they had been expecting them to arrive.
They had hoped to catch the men by surprise by attacking at dawn, but that would not be possible now.
No matter.
Either way victory would be theirs and within an hours' time so would the walls, but more importantly the men on said walls. Helena looked from one end of the wall to the other, their had to have been anywhere from six to seven thousand men up on those walls.
That was not good news.
Well, technically it depended from what point of view you saw the prism from, from a military doctrine stand point the fact that the assaulting force was twice the size of the defending force it was a fine thing indeed. From a monster viewpoint it was an atrocious reality.
If the maximum number of men up there was seven thousand that meant only half of the host of warriors, they had brought would be wed by the battles end. And that's if they were even seven thousand. Had they attacked in full strength she'd wager less than a quarter would find husband when all was said and done.
Helena wasn't the only one who had come to this conclusion.
Around the Hellhound various monsters realized the discrepancy between how many men there were and the number of mamono about to assault them. The rank-and-file grunts may not have discerned the shortage, but their leaders sure did.
One such person was Kasandra; the High Orc's face was one of intuit understanding of the situation. By some chance she happened to spot Helena and fixed her with an erratic grin on her face, then she saluted.
Helena wasn't sure what the woman had been trying to convey, but a gut feeling was telling her the High Orc had just wished her good luck.
If that was true her gesture was wasted, Helena needed no such arbitrary thing as luck to get her man. Her strength and determination will see to that. And if by some chance it did not.
Her zeal will.
Kasandra issued an order and her battalion and the various monster bands assigned to her moved further to the left, away from Helena's.
Just as they had planned days ago.
The plan was a simple one, elementary even, so straightforward that even the most dimwitted Minotaur or brain-dead Zombie could understand. First, they spread out until they were directly facing their designated section of the wall to assault. Then no more than a quarter from each group will broke from the rest and launch a mock attack on the walls.
The faint will draw the enemy's full attention and when that happens Elena's battalion will swoop in down from the clouds and land directly within their lines. This will without a doubt cause panic to ensure and spread like wildfire throughout the enemies ranks. In that moment the spellcasters will rush in and turn off the blue flames on the surface of the stone walls, along with any other magical traps that might be lying in wait.
Once the flames where extinguished they would rush the walls in mass, scale them and take whichever man they could get before they ran out.
Most lucid indeed.
It was also risky. And certain to lead to a high casualty list for them. Especially amongst the groups whose job it was to attract the enemy's attention.
Helena gazed up at the walls, above the portcullises and on certain sections of the parapet multiple batteries of massive foreign cannons and their crews stoically awaited them. Gun-towers stretched out on either side across the defensive wall. Thousands of men wielding strange firearms lined the battlements standing at the ready for the order to fire. Behind them she could see men holding spears, halberds, poleaxes, war hammers, axes and swords. Spell-casters clad in various color robes holding wooden staffs paced from one position to the next.
There would also be some fatalities on the men's side as well. They would try to limit those as much as the situation would allow, but good men were still going to die. The thought of it alone repulsed Helena to her core to kill was not their way, it went against the will of the Demon Lord, but it was an unfortunate fact of life that had to be faced.
They all knew the risks and accepted them for what they were.
Necessary sacrifices.
Unlike the Fourth Born who had been born with vast amounts of powerful magics and a sliver spoon in her mouth. Who could get whatever she wanted simply by snapping her fingers and casting a quick spell or ask her mother to give it to her.
They of common stock on the other hand all knew you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
Sacrifices needed to be made in order for success to be achieved.
"Ugh this is unbelievable!" Someone suddenly yelled out. "There's barely enough men for half of us up there! Maybe even less!"
Oh no. Someone said the quiet part out loud.
"What!?"Another voice cried out alarmed. "I was told there be enough men for everyone here. Are you saying there's less then half up on the walls?"
Helena frantically searched for said person to shut her up, but to no avail. There were just too many monsters here. Her heart sank when she heard said person respond.
"I heard we were twenty thousand strong when we set out for Lescatie, but with all the monster bands joining us in the subsequent weeks since then, that figure has risen exponentially. Even with the greater part of our army back at camp, I doubt there's enough man up there for half of us right here."
"She's right!" Shouted someone else. "There aren't that many men up there!"
"I can't believe this!" Bellowed an amazon with grey hair. "They lied to us right to our fucking faces!"
On and on it went.
And despite the best efforts of the army officers to suppress or at least limit the spread of that inconvenient truth from reaching the ears of the rest of the army, within minutes every mamono there knew that at least half of them were going home alone. And that they had best act quick if they didn't want to be left empty-handed when it was all said and done.
With this in mind all sense of discipline went right out the window and all hell broke loose as two-thirds of the mutinying monster army charged the walls in mass.
XxX
(The Beastmen Brayherd)
Taurox drank fresh blood out of the severed head of the last human prisoner they had captured days ago, during the raid of the small settlement the Beastmen had happened to come across on their way towards their true prey. Before he had beheaded the human, Taurox had noticed that it bore a striking resemblance to the bearded human he had killed during the battle for that settlement.
A relative perhaps.
As he drank deeply Taurox couldn't help but frown at the taste of the blood. It was far too sweet and had a fruity palate to it.
It was all wrong.
This was not how Taurox remembered human blood should have tasted. Three generations may have passed since he last guzzled the blood of the humans of the Old World, but the Doombull knew its tang well.
It was ingrained into his taste receptors by the gods themselves.
And this was not it.
The other Beastmen born into this godless land might not have know that, but he did. For ten years, Taurox had laid a trail of destruction all across the lands of the Great Forest of Talabecland that none could stop. Throughout that decade of carnage and mayhem he had feasted on an endless banquet of man flesh and drank rivers worth of their blood.
No longer able to stomach the sugary taste, Taurox closed his mouth and tossed the head away. It landed near a pack of Ungors who immediately begin to fight amongst themselves for possession of the meager scrap.
Taurox bit back his disgust at the sight of the small horned Beastmen quarreling over such a godawful piece of meat. If they had possessed larger horns, he would have told them that the meat he had thrown away was repulsive, but since they were Ungors he kept his mouth shut even as weapons were drawn and blood was spilled over it.
They were only Ungors after all. And were next to worthless in the Beastmen hierarchy only the hornless Brays were lower.
The Doombull turned towards the gathered Wargors and Gorebulls the tribal chieftains of the countless warherds that made up his brayherd, standing next to them were the Bray-Shamans.
"These are not the same humans who defied the dark ones will," Taurox told them. And in truth a part of him doubted that they were humans at all.
They were all wrong. Sure, they seemed human enough in their appearances, manners, and worst off all their abominable inclinations for order and civilization. However, they were all wrong, they tasted different, the magic they used was alien and they did not give birth to Beastmen no matter how much they tried to breed with their womenfolk.
"They well not notice our offerings."
Only by spilling the blood and sacrificing the souls of the ones who thwarted the holy plans of the Ruinous Powers will they once again bless us with their whispers.
"Then we must seek the ones responsible for foiling the dark ones plans and offer their souls as tribute." A Bray-Shaman sagely stated. As if the shaman knew for a fact that was what the gods wished. Which Taurox found odd since every Beastmen here save him and a handful of others elsewhere had never heard the gods whispers or been blessed by them as he had been all those years ago.
The Bray-Shaman spoke again but Taurox no longer wished to hear the words of a charlatan instead the minotaur gazed over his brazen frame. Once long ago, so long now that it seemed to have been another lifetime ago, he had possessed a normal body made of flesh and blood.
Back then in those days he had been a fearsome chieftain of one of the many Minotaur tribes, found in the vast forests of the Old World. Taurox had spent that portion of his life fighting off rivals for his position, raiding human settlements and enforcing his brutal will upon the lesser beasts of the forest by felling any creature who dared meet his stern gaze or he'd simply devour them alive.
But those days came to an end the day he came upon the vale of Lietberg. For a full day and night, he had killed so many humans that a river of blood was born at his feet. Exhausted, by so much slaughter Taurox collapsed in the crimson stream, and he might have died right then and there, drowning in the blood of his victims for his energies were so completely spent he could barely keep his eyelids from closing much less rise his head or turn over on his back.
But the dark ones had use for him still.
Under a scarlet moon, Taurox awake and found he had been reborn. He rose up and bellowed his defiance, blood cascading from his now-brass frame, for the gods had rewarded his fell deeds with a body of shining metal. No more would he tire; no more would he weaken from hunger or disease. No longer would he be given a moment's respite from the rage that consumed him. Taurox drank deep of the gory river he had made, and the blood sluiced and boiled inside his brass body, giving him unholy vitality.
Then he heard them. The gods. The Changer of Ways. The Plague Lord. The Dark Prince and mightiest of them all the Blood God.
They all spoke to him. One-by-one. They whispered their plans for him into his ears. As if he and he alone was worthy of listening to their blessed words.
When the words ceased, Taurox clashed his rune-inscribed axes together in savage pride, and immediately set off once more and began the slaughter anew. This time fatigue would not stop him.
Nothing save the gods themselves can stop the Brass Bull.
For Taurox could not die, the gods had told him so.
A distinctive aroma, in the air put a stop to his reminiscing. It was a scented mixtures of smells flowers, honey, wheat, vanilla and soup. All mingled together. It also had a feminine smell to it as well.
Taurox wasn't the only one to notice it, others of his kind spotted the smell and gagged as they whiffed the pleasant smell.
He instantly recognized who that scent belonged to and it caused his blood to boil.
That sickeningly sweet scent didn't belong to their human pray. It belonged to the damned she-creatures.
They were here.
No worse than that... they were here in force.
XxX
(With Druella)
Druella abruptly awake startled although for the life of her, she could not discern the reason why she felt such perturbation right now. Yet the sense she felt within her soul that something had gone horribly wrong was overwhelming.
It was almost nerve wrecking in its intensity. Never before had she felt such alarm.
She threw the silk bedsheets off of her and rose from her bed completely nude. Then she took a deep breath to try to calm herself. Hopefully, whatever had come over her would pass soon. She stood off the bed and walked towards a small circular table that housed a vintage glass bottle filled with ice cold water. Druella grabbed the bottle, pulled the black wooden cork off and drank straight from the bottle.
"Aah. What luck you woke up early today princess. That saves us a whole lot of trouble."
The monster princess lowered the bottle from her lips and turned towards the entrance of her room to find three women standing by the door having just arrived.
All three of them were mamono, but only two of them were familiar to her.
Alameria Crescentria smiled as she gave a half-hearted bow to her mistress. The Dhampir's amber color eyes seemed to shin in the majestic glow of twilight. Her pale skin and shoulder-length blonde hair with purple highlights were moist. So were her clothes.
Behind the half-breed stood a succubus with red color eyes, fair-skin and short blonde hair. It was her who Druella addressed, "Please tell me you didn't come here to deliver bad news Luciana."
Luciana Sausare smiled revealing perfect pearl white teeth as she shook her head, "The opposite, I'd wager. I believe we found the excuse we've been looking for mistress…. or rather it found us."
Druella raised an eyebrow, but did not interrupt her subordinate. The former hero of Lescatie gestured to the last person to step foot into the room and the one the Fourth had never meet before.
It was a tall silver hair woman with an alluring figure, wispy black smoke flew around her. She wore a revealing black and silver eastern style dress tied at the waist with a black sash, showing off a large portion of her breasts, shoulders and thighs. Black socks covered her feet as she walked on black sandals. Across her left breast was a tattoo of a purple lotus flower surrounded by green leaves.
A Nurarihyon.
And she doesn't look cheery thought Druella watching the high-ranking monster from Zipangu walk pass Alameria and Luciana then gave the most lackluster bow she had ever seen. It had reeked of contempt, laced with blatant enmity. Already she could tell the conversion she was about to engage in with the woman would be unpleasant.
Druella was about to welcome the woman, but then she suddenly spoke, "Greetings fourth born daughter of the Demon Lord, my name is Arisa Miyasaka. And I've been sent on the behest of an organization of mamono who reside in the nation behind the walls to the east. They wish to know. Why you bring an army before the gates of a monster friendly state?"
The Fourth Princess blinked, "Come again?"
Arisa raised her voice then pointed at the lilim, "Don't be coy with me. Your reputation for conquering human kingdoms is well known even to us in the Kingdom of the Sun. And now we find you with an army at your beck and call camped a stone's throw away before the only state in the region… a monster friendly state."
The accusation she threw at Druella's face was grave, even for one born from the womb of the Demon Lord was not above censure if found to be true. The punishment for having perpetrated such a crime was harsh, her mother did not tolerate those who brought violence upon human kingdoms with affable views on monsters. To bring war upon such a place in the Demon Lord's name was an unimaginable insult to everything her mother stood for.
It was also a brazen violation of the few edicts; her mother had forced upon all demon realms regardless of their affiliation.
Druella's blood went cold as the realization of what nearly could have transpired had she listened to the council of her High Court struck home. "I-I see. Have no fear my friend and let go of your worries, I did not come here to cause trouble for monster friendly kingdoms." Technically speaking that wasn't a lie, that had never been her aim." I'm afraid there's been a huge misunderstanding as to the purpose of why my army is here."
The Nurarihyon shot her a dubious look. "A misunderstanding?"
"Yes," Druella sternly insisted with a smile across her face. She snapped her fingers and her clothes magically appeared on her frame. "And I believe this misunderstanding has been brought about due to confusion, misinterpretation and perhaps even a bit of paranoia. If you'll join me for breakfast, I'll be more than glad to explain everything to you."
"That would be much appreciated."
"Wonderful! Alameria dear please escort our friend here to my personal dining tent, I'll join you there in a bit once, I've freshened up."
Arisa looked as if she about to say something but the Dhampir grabbed her hand and whisked her out of the room.
Druella dropped the smile as the two exited, then quickly spun towards Luciana, "Tell my Hight Court to assemble at once! No exceptions or excuses! I don't care if you have drag them from there beds kicking and screaming. Do you understand?"
Luciana nodded, "Yes princess, but it might take a while to get everyone together with all the various training drills going on right now."
The Fourth Princess stared at the former hero of the Order of the Knights of the Holy Ice Flower baffled, "What drills? I didn't approve any training drills for today."
Before the fallen hero could respond a chorus of wails followed by weeping, howls and yet more wails sounded throughout the room. The sounds of grief and pain put together to make a morbid cantata.
Both women blinked as they listened to the song of sorrow and loss. They listened carefully and noticed quickly that its volume was growing ever louder with each passing second. Hurriedly they left the room, then the tent and beheld a spectacle that few wished to see.
A dozen Banshees made their way towards the center of the camp, their weeping and wailing echoing through the morning air. Their pale, deathly white skins were wrapped in black silken garments, some wore veils of mourning across their faces all had iconographies of death as jewelry. They wept for those who would soon depart this mortal world and experience death's cold embrace. It was a haunting thing to behold it rattled the hearts of every monster who gazed at the soul-stirring sight.
Banshees were never a welcomed sight. They served the Goddess of Death and when they appeared it was interpreted as an omen of death for whenever the worshippers of Hel arrived it was as a prelude to death and disaster. They heralded the coming of death that no amount of prayer to Ares the God of War and Fighting could prevent. Luciana swallowed hard when she saw the group of death worshippers heading straight towards her and…
Druella walked towards the group looking quite incensed and a bit irked at what was happening in her camp. She approached the lead Banshee, the one wearing a silver circlet with ornamented skulls on top her long raven hair, a provocative open black dress, black opera gloves and thigh-highs with leather knee-length heel boots. A black cloak bellowed behind her as she walked.
The Fourth Princess was not in the mood for this nonsense. The death worshiper's appearance was disrupting the peace of her camp and affecting the moral of the rank and file of her army.
That could not be allowed to stand.
"Blessing be upon you Lady Druella, fourth born daughter of Lilith, long may she reign." The lead Banshee bowed her head in respect. "How may I be of service?"
"You can serve me by explaining your presence here in my camp. What business brings your kind here?" Druella demanded forgoing decorum. "Who here will receive your goddesses' gift today?"
"Our mistress will bless all with her gift in time." The Banshee spoke her voice filled with melancholy. "Although some receive it sooner then others and today our Lady Hel will grace many with her cold kiss. Thus, why we of the black cloth are here, it is our sacred charge to guide the souls of the departed to their fine resting place in the hereafter."
"There will be no such thing today," Druella scoffed. "I don't know what your goddess told you but she is mistaken there will be no event that ends in mayhem and slaughter this day. No battle where your kind is needed for this campaign is over." She saw that the monsters standing nearby who without a doubt could hear the exchange between the two begin murmuring between themselves and a few even dared to give her resentful looks.
"That's right!" The lilim yelled so all could hear her words. "We are done here! Pack your things for we march for home come evening. For the nation those walls belong to is a friendly monster state that cannot be harmed by order of my mother."
That statement silenced even the most hardcore extremist amongst them, but it did not quiet the Banshees who chuckled as if they had just heard someone say something amusingly naïve.
"Do my words amuse you, death worshiper?" Druella asked after a lengthy pause. "I fail to see the humor in them, but then again. I'm sane enough to know that venerating death isn't healthy or of sound mind."
The lead Banshee smiled, "They do indeed princess for they remind me of those of a credulous child who believes fairies will sneak into her room at night and exchange coin for teeth."
Druella scowled. The sun had barely just risen and already she wished this day was over and done with. First the discourteous Nurarihyon then this death worshiping weirdo.
Could this day get any worse?
"For you see princess, "The Banshee continued. "Our goddess is never wrong when it comes to her occupation. If she says their will be death here this day then their will be death here this day, whether you believe it or not."
As soon the Banshee finished uttering the last word a thunderous sound roared across the morning sky followed by the very earth shaking for a second or two. A series of smaller sounds followed, but these did not cause the ground to quake.
"By the gods what was that?" Luciana asked out loud.
Druella didn't know, but whatever that had been it had come from… the walls. A horrifying thought struck her as she watched a mushroom cloud rise up from dozens of miles yonder. "… Luciana which commanders ordered the training drills you mentioned earlier?"
"Xenia, Kasandra, Elena, Chloe, Adalene and… I think Helena did so as well. "Luciana answered while watching dust clouds rise higher and higher until they dissipated completely.
As Druella heard those names her mouth went dry as she felt a chill run down her spine as she now understood the cause of the abrupt panic, she had felt earlier.
World Information
Country Profile
Full Name: The Empire of Man
Common Name: The Empire
Motto: Götter mit uns (Gods with us)
Anthem: Kaiserhymne (Emperor's Hymn)
Official Languages: Reikspiel
Capital: Altdorf
Government Structure: Federal parliamentary semi-constitutional monarchy
Head of State: Emperor Felix Jaeger
Head of Government: Imperial Chancellor Alfred von Bethmann-Hollweg
Currency: Crown
Established: The Empire has a history that stretches back for more than 2656 years, but much has been forgotten or lost in the intervening centuries. War, fire, flood and even conspiracy has helped to hide much of the historical record, whether it was recorded in books and scrolls or preserved in the form of artifacts. Present-day Imperial scholars dig and research to discover the hidden truths of the past, but the gaps are many and their conclusions are often simply wrong or skewed to match their preconceptions and political or religious ideology.
Author's Note: It has been far to long since, I updated this story and all I can say is that real life has been a total bitch these last few months. Once again, I would like to thank everyone who favorited and followed this story. And a special thanks to those who took the time out of their schedule to leave a review.
Okay normally, I would respond to the reviewers, but there are quite a lot of you now(Which is awesome) and I don't want to balloon the word count too much with Q and A. So I'll be limiting the responses by picking a few from the review section. Don't take it as a snub if, I don't pick your review it mostly has to do with me being lazy or you didn't ask a question or if you did it had already been answered previously.
Review Response
Ironwall
Yes, but the Empire gods have an unfortunate case of being dead at the moment.
Neobenm
That is going to be addressed soon.
ManwithaPlan113
I don't know what you're talking about ratmen don't exist...yes-yes.
NewtypeAuthor346
Thank you for your kind words. Yea, I'm trying to double check each chapter, but somehow, I keep missing errors. Without a doubt the metaphysical force of the Warhammer Fantasy universe is way different than the one in the world of MGE. Which is something that will be touched upon soon. Oh so very soon.
Golden Nova
I promise that's not going to happen.
Evowizard25
I must say I rather enjoy reading your reviews. The brayherd is something that we will be diving deep into next chapter, but we got some tidbit of information this chapter with that revelation that Beastmen can't breed with the native human population of MGE.