Norscan wasteland
Old man slowly approached the valley, covering his head with brown hood, allowing only his white like snow, short beard to be clearly visible for any bystanders. He walked slowly, using his staff to support himself.
As he came closer and closer to the edge of the frozen forest, sounds of bloody battle started to intensify, proving that he took a good direction. He smiled, knowing that another task will soon be fulfilled.
When he came out of the ice forest, he stopped walking, avoiding a large spear, which landed just before his feet. Unfazed, he walked past it, not fearing anything, for his life was never in any danger. As he approached the battlefield, he found himself on the flank of both armies - two opposing hordes killed and maimed one another for glory of their respective Gods.
On the old man's left, warriors with drakkar's on their shields relentlessly pushed another band of Norscans, which wore marks of the Dark prince on their chests. While those covered in leather and fur slashed and mauled their foes with maces and axes, Slanneshi warriors used their whips to deal fatal blows, causing many agonizing screams from marauders with each successful hit, much to snake servants delight.
One of the young Norscans tackled Slanneshi warrior to the ground, just before hooded old man. With near animal scream, young-blood hit the tackled foe with his helmet again and again, crushing the enemy's head, sending parts of skull everywhere.
- Excuse me young one. - Old Man said, just after Norscan finally tossed away his now broken helmet. Young-blood looked at the old man with surprise, not sure what to think about some crippled Man in the middle of a battle. - Where I could find Egil Styrbjorn?
- High Jarl? In the middle of the field, leading the charge. - Young Norscan pointed at the large hill.
- Thank you, young one. - Old Man said, and white Raven landed on his right arm. When he started walking again, Young warrior finally saw his white, blinded eyes.
- You should avoid the whip. - The Old man said before the warrior could ask, and warning allowed him to dodge the incoming attack. Enraged, Norscan resumed his fight while the blind man with wooden staff and strange book on his belt moved forward, somehow walking past all those fighting and dying, navigating through the battlefield like he knew the way beforehand.
Far from him, just as young blood said, Butcher of the Immortals, accompanied by his Knight Rippers and toughest Huscarls in entire tribe lead the charge against Prince's Bodyguards – a mutated, completely naked warriors, whose bodies may look perfect, but their arms and tongues turned themselves into long, spiked whips. They swirled those barbed scourges at approaching warriors, causing insufferable pain with each cut limb or torn flesh, allowing them to taste their opponents blood, which send them to even higher frenzy. At first, they wreak havoc against lightly armed marauders, but against heavily armed, fully armored in steel and iron Huscarls and "Knights", they found themselves in big disadvantage, which Styrbjorn exploited in full.
His axes – Garmr and Gormr - struck against the horde of beasts with strength able to cleave dragons, slaying them left and right, splitting their spines and spilling their blood, while aberrations lashes proved ineffective against his Crimson armor. He split one in half, sliced another, ripped of his head, covered his head against long tongue, which wrapped up around his hand, but Styrbjorn with one strong move of his hand, ripped the tongue out of Bodyguard. Unfazed, it charged at the Butcher, only to be cut down by large halberd from the knight ripper.
Although Styrbjorn was a powerhouse by himself, Knight Rippers and Huscarls followed closely behind, protecting their leader's flanks. They cut through the tide monsters, sliced them with axes while their enemies organic lashes tried to strike them at uncovered parts of body. – Some lashes wrapped themselves around warriors arm, and severed it seconds later, one tongue tied around uncovered head, giving said head's owner painful death.
Fight became a bloodbath, as entire Skealing army pressed forward, pushing Prince's warband further and further. Mammoths and trolls rampaged across the field, stomping and crushing anything in their path, Wolf skins gorged upon their terrified enemies, chaos knights from both sides charged yet again. It was brutal. It was bloody. It was…
- Fuckin stupid. – Wulfrik spat on the ground, and gave a Prince a death stare. – Why are you doing this?!
- Give me my armor! – Prince ordered his servants, and they started putting on him spiked armor, full of thousands needles all across it. When they put it on him, all of those tiny needles launched into the armor, and Prince moaned in pleasure.
- Answer me. – Wulfrik demanded, and Prince sighed.
- Winning, don't you see? – he said, making an innocent face
- All I see is waste of man and time!
- When you suddenly started caring?
- I don't care about their wellbeing you perverted fuck! I care about a battle we could won by now.
- Really?
- Yes! We outnumber them five to one! We have more beasts of war, more marked warriors and superior magic in our hands. And you. – Wulfrik pointed his finger at the Prince. – You keep them behind, sending only fraction of our strength against them.
- You see Wanderer. – Prince took a look at approaching Skealing horde, currently smashing the right flank and center, following after furious charge of both Styrbjorn's guards, and mad beserkers – I don't want to simply win. I want total victory.
Wulfrik raised his eyebrow, unconvinced.
- He is, or was, no matter, favorite champion of the Blood God. – Prince continued, unfazed by Wulfrik's silence. – I want to shatter his will, humiliate him, make him beg for mercy, show how pointless his whole struggle was. I want to offer his screams of despair and pain directly to my master, so he will reward me greatly.
- Since he nearly smashed through your warriors you can tell him that yourself. – Wulfrik pointed out. Seeing approaching Skealing, quietly admiring their prowess. He once was a Sarl, and fought against them multiple times before, but this time they seemed… Reinvigorated, just like their Chief. – At this pace of advance, he will be here soon.
- Excellent. – Prince grabbed his cutlass. – I want to see him scream. And you will gladly do it for me while I engage his guards.
Wulfrik turned his attention back to the Prince, his blood boiling.
- Gods sent me here with unspecified task. – He admitted. –But to think that you didn't even consider fighting him personally makes me sick.
- Why should I? You are here only to kill him, not to…
- Don't you dare. – Wulfrik interrupted him.
Wulfrik spit under Prince's leg in disgust, making Slannesh's champion put two steps backwards.
- Only Gods may order me, not a Rat man's bastard.
- What?
- You want to hear his screams of pain? Then fight him like a warrior, because I will deliver only clean death. – Wulfrik walked towards the Prince, towering over him, and putting his shadow over him. – Say the word, and I will engage his warriors while you fight one on one. Unless you are as cowardly as your rat father.
- You said…
- I remember what I said. – Wulfrik grinned. – If you somehow die in this glorious combat, I will gladly face him. But not even giving you a chance of earning glory would be the offence towards the Snake.
- The Gods…
- The Gods do not demand his death. Yet.
Few Chaos warriors approached Wulfrik, their halberds and lashes raised in preparation to strike, ready to respond for his attack.
- How do you want to do it? You want to hide behind my back, or you want to prove all of us that I am wrong?
- Do what Archaon ordered! – Prince lashed out in anger. – Kill the Skealing leader!
Wulfrik stared at him for few more seconds, and then nodded.
- Even Skavens would look at you with disgust. – he said, turned from the coward, and walked away few meters to prepare for the fight, while Prince gave him a death glare, taking the insult deep into his heart. Without a doubt, someone is going to die toady, and Wulfrik had a feeling that, no matter the outcome, an "accident" will happen to that Slanneshi slut.
He was sure of that.
Wyjchera
- Hey, I know a place… Dammit. – Bernard stood behind a house, and practiced his "conversation starter." He wanted to look perfect, and to not "lose his tongue" when he will finally speak with her. From the first day when she arrived, Bernard looked for a way to start a conversation, but every time he approached her, his brain suddenly became empty, his mouth started to blab random things, causing him a lot of shame. He was shy, sure, but with her, he was very especially nervous, and he couldn't figure why. When he learnt that she will soon leave Wyjchera for good or bad, he decided that this is the day, he will finally do it.
- You know that your eyes… No, I will look like an imbecile. – he sighed, and leaned towards the wall. He is such an idiot, stupid! Not able to talk to her, not able to drink like his brother's company, not able to finally teach children some respect.
Kids…
Only now he started to realize that he do not hear them anymore. He rose on his feet, looked around, and to his horror, they were nowhere to be found.
- Fuck! – he cursed, now they will definitely kill him. He took his horn and spear, and started searching for tracks in the snow, but luckily for him, track of the entire group was still clearly visible. And they were getting far from the village.
- I tried to be nice. – He put his cap on his head. – But this time, you did it.
He started his chase after the group, already wondering what will be their excuse.
'
- Bullshit? – Zuza said with surprise
- Exactly that. – Ciri pointed her finger at the bottle. – That thing could put manticore to sleep.
- Maybe two.
- Even worse.
- This potion is strong, true. And very hard to get. But know this Ciri – It is worth it.
- Drugging someone is worth it?
- We don't have time for that.
- I think we do.
For Ciri, this whole situation seemed disgusting. She remembered how Bonhart kept her drugged on Fisstech, so she would be more ruthless and aggressive in the arena. Even a thought of something like that brought back memories of the hated Bounty Hunter. She killed him sure, but the damage he caused, the people he killed – they will remain in the ground.
- If you knew him better, then you wouldn't complain.
- Enlighten me then.
Zuza looked at her with anger.
- No.
- No?
- I didn't spend so much time and effort to make his life less miserable, only for some overconfident, stupid girl to put him and Witold at danger again!
- How would I…
- I didn't finish! – Zuza said with even more anger. – You want to traverse this world? Look for a way home? Spit on a helpful hand? Do it then, alone. But know this: In this world, there are fates far worse than death.
Before Ciri could start her own response, the sound of horn suddenly erupted.
'
- Hey! - Witold yelled, nearly catching up with the rest of the group after minutes of relentless chase. He left a sigh of relief when his friends finally stopped.
- Hey Witold, come take a look! – One of the kids shouted to him, while Witold slowly approached them, exhausted.
- Uncle Bernard said we shouldn't walk that far from Wyjchera. – Witold said, worried about reaction from his grandfather.
- We know, but they will understand. – One of the kids said. – Just look what Kasia found.
Witold looked at her, and soon he noticed that on on her right hand the abomination with thousands of eyes and mouths stares directly at him.
With a terrified shriek, he jumped backwards, into the snow, while the monster quietly flied from the girl's hand, and flew on the top of the large rock, much to girls disappointment. While kids laughed, Witold watched how the hideous being laugh as well.
- Scared of the butterfly Wit? – One of the kid's teased
- It is a monster! – He warned them, but instead caused even more laughs from the group.
Although Changeling laughed as well, he also wondered about boy's reaction. He couldn't possibly see through his disguise, so maybe he scared of bugs? At first he thought it is very unlikely, but then again, one of the champions is similarly terrified of snakes. Fascinating, but ultimately means nothing.
Begin. he gave a command and flew to the nearest tree, preparing to watch carnage unfold.
- We need to go back now! – Witold yelled. – It brought us here!
- Calm down Wit, it is just…
- No! – He shouted. – Listen, it is…
- No, you listen. – Suddenly Bernard approached the gathering with anger in his eyes. – I understand many things, but WHAT THE FUCK!?
All kids turned to look at the furious Bernard, and lowered their heads, slowly starting to realize what they just did, like the spell was lifted from them. Now, none of the kids wanted to explain anything, they looked at their feet with shame.
- Bernard… - Witold wanted to warn him, but Bernard hushed with gesture of his hand, his attention fully focused on the group.
- Now I am talking and you listen. I tried to be nice, tolerated many off your behaviors. "These are kids" they said, "Let them have their fun" they said, and I was fine with that. But that was a fuckin cross of the line…
Witold heard something near, looked around for the thing causing the slowly increasing rumbling noise, while Bernard continued his angry rant. Soon, Witold's eyes finally noticed the rock raising on its feet.
- … Your parents will decide how to best punish you, but from me, ohh, from me, don't expect I won't go harsh…
- Bernard… - Witold said, watching how the stone gets larger and larger. Sadly, he was the only one who noticed the danger, because the rest of the group watched their feet, ashamed, while Bernard again tried to hush Witold.
- Not now! Now I…
- BERNARD! – He screamed, and livid kislevite finally looked at Witold, only to finally see what is going on, kids following his stare as well. His eyes widened in shock.
Now, fully awoken, large chaos troll, still covered in snow, looked at the humans with his hungry, murderous stare.
'
- Where are you? – Percival said to himself, waking through the snow, looking for something. He turned his head left and right, trying to follow the exact path she walked before they met. If what she said is true, she walked forward, which means that it must be here somewhere.
Suddenly, his leg clanged on something heavy, but metal. He smiled, and started to quickly dig through the snow and ice with his shovel, and after a while, he picked up a sword from the snow.
- Hey there. – He said, carefully lifting the steel. – You owner really miss you.
In Percival's mind, weapon is just as big part of the warrior as his arm, and losing it is like losing a limb. You can fight with different weaponry sure, but you may never form similar emotional "connection". That's why he hide his own, in hope to never use it again.
Suddenly, he heard the signal horn from Wyjchera, and quickly discarded those thoughts, there was no time for them. He rushed back to the village, wanting to reach it as fast as possible.
'
Ciri run out from Zuza's house and looked around, trying to determine from which direction the sound of horn came. Around her, although confused, Kislevites didn't waste time, already arming themselves with any weapon they could find.
- From which direction it came from?!
- Where are the kids?!
- Who is attacking?!
- Where is Bernard?! – Kazimierz yelled, trying to call his brother, but to no avail.
Then again, the horn sounded once more, and this time Ciri and the rest could the determine from where it was blown.
- That's Bernard horn… - One of the Kislevites finally realized, while Ciri wasted no time and sprung into desperate sprint, Kazimierz running after her, but she quickly gained distance between him. If this is truly Bernard's horn, that means…
- RUN! – Bernard yelled to the terrified kids, dodging another blow from the enraged troll. He wanted to blow the horn once more, but another strike from the beast nearly got him, and in desperation, threw the horn at it, doing little. – RUN! – he screamed again, grabbing his spear with two hands, and tried to lure the troll away from the running kids. Witold run as well, but he constantly turned back, not wanting to leave him there, but what he could do? Whole group tried to run as fast as possible, but their small legs weren't enough to make significant ground between the monster.
The troll, covered in stone and cracked ice, roared at the young man, and run at him wiggling his hands like crazy, wanting to crush him under his large feet. Bernard jumped away to the side, avoiding certain death, and pushed his spear into the troll's arm. When he tried to pull it out, the spear stuck itself between the rocky hide of the creature, and Bernard made a crucial mistake. – He tried to pull it out again.
He stood to long in one place, and before he could realize it, troll's second hand punched in the gut, sending him flying across the field. Witold watched in horror how the person he knew entire life slam into the tree, and his spine bended backwards, making a very loud crack in the process.
Time for him stopped, he couldn't move, he could only watch how pool of blood is slowly forming around his caretaker and friend. It was the first time he watched someone close die.
- C'mon! – Kasia pulled him, snapping him out of this state, and both quickly resumed their escape while beast, after short roar of triumph, turned back its attention to the children.
Changeling watched the entire scene with amusement, sensing that his "target" is approaching. He looked at the troll and gave his command.
What are you waiting for? Go kill them.
Troll looked around himself in confusion, trying to find the source of the voice. It didn't want to chase the small, their bones are not crunchy, and wanted to first eat the bigger one.
Go kill them you stupid beast! Another voice, this time from the troll's head shouted, and troll punched himself to get rid of it. YOU IMBECILE! THEY HAVE MORE MEAT THAN THAT ONE.
More meat? Trolls aren't exactly geniuses in math, so he needed few more seconds to "calculate". Big one is only one, small ones are many…
With new vigor, he started to chase his newfound dinner.
'
Now Ciri was able to see the group of children running away from the monster, which looked similar to stone trolls living in the North, but it was much taller, probably over two grown man. The beast run on its stubby legs, trying to catch up with kids, but when she finally got closer, troll stopped and looked at her.
KILL HER. Voice in troll's head demanded, confusing the beast.
But tinies…
IGNORE THEM! KILL THE FEMALE FIRST!
Daemon inside looked at the incoming target through the troll's eyes. Finally, She will be free from this stinking, clumsy…
Arrow straight in the eye caused the beast to walk one step backward, dazing the troll for a moment. The moment Ciri used to dash between the creature legs, immediately striking them in the process, wanting to immobilize the beast as fast as possible.
First, weaken the monster, if you cripple it at the start of the fight, you basically won.
Blood of the monster landed on the snow, painting it red. With satisfactory smile, she aimed next at the creature's spine, but before she could that, troll turned to her, swinging his left hand in attempt to grab and crush her, but she jumped away, and cut off two fingers from the troll's hand. She gained some distance from the monster, thinking that after the strike on his legs, beast won't be able to move.
She was wrong.
To her surprise, troll charged at her, like he wasn't caring that his knees were deeply cut. With quick reaction, she dodged the smash troll delivered to the ground, sending shards of ice and stone everywhere.
- How did you… - She wanted to say, but as she watched troll's fingers grow back, she shook her head. Regeneration of course, just when I lack fire or acid.
Troll roared again and renewed his attack in nearly animal desire to smash her to bits.
- No! – Witold screamed, seeing Ciri fighting beast which killed Bernard, not wanting anyone else to die. However, just before he could do anything, someone's strong hand grabbed his arm.
- To the village, NOW! – He ordered, and pushed Witold away. – She is giving us time.
- She…
- She will be fine, I promise that but now GO! – Reluctantly, Witold started to run with tears in his eyes, while Kazimierz looked at approaching comrades.
- Inform the commander, Chaos troll!
- Bring fire somebody! – Two kislevites run back to the village while the eight more joined Kazimierz.
- Good shot Pietia. – Kazimierz commended the archer, seeing the arrow stuck in one the troll's eyes. – Stay here, and wait for the opportunity to, the rest. – He raised his blade. – Surround the monster!
- What about her? – one of the villagers pointed at ashen-hair, and Kazimierz smiled, seeing how she fight, more like she is making a fool of him, but that smile soon faded away.
If the children's were alone. – Kazimierz thought – It means… no, no time for that.
- Let's kill this son of a bitch. – he simply ordered before raising his sword. If that thing did this, he will make it pay.
Norscan wasteland, battlefield
Styrbjorn torn apart the last warrior who dared to stand against him, finally reaching the top of the hill, on which Prince of Pain stood the entire battle. As he approached with his huscarls, he quickly counted all heavy armored warriors stationed there, probably serving as the coward's last line of defense. He could only wonder why they allow him to reach the top, and not forcing him to fight uphill, giving them minimal chance of success.
The sounds of battle started to lessen as the warriors of the Prince slowly started to rout, hunted by reinvigorated Skealing, but as Styrbjorn ordered his warriors. – They should remain cautious, since Snake's servants love to lure unsuspecting foes into traps and ambushes. And now, he had the feeling that he is walking straight into one.
As he reached the top of the hill, Chaos warriors opposing him formed a shield wall, thinking they are ready to take the elite of Skealing tribe. Styrbjorn looked at his personal routine, all covered in blood of their enemies, and raised his axes to give a final command.
- Bravo, Bravo! – He heard from the line of Chaos warriors. – Such bravado.
Egil looked at the smiling Prince, who was covered in his disgustingly shining armor with marks of Snakes, as he approached him with open arms.
- You fought well, but now, the time has come. – Prince mockingly bowed to him, but Egil didn't react at all, wanting to hear what trap the Prince prepared. – Surrender now, and we will take only your head.
Styrbjorn raised his eyebrow, not sure if his foe is drunk, stupid or both. If so, this would explain why his warband fought so horribly.
- Take a look – He pointed in the distance, and Styrbjorn's gaze followed.
In the distance, he saw another force coming this way, far larger than the force his warriors crushed. Among them, he saw many beasts of war – giants covered in metal, few two-headed frost wyrms and many fimir's and trolls. This, along with the very numerous marauders and near endless tide of heavy cavalery was this "trap" Styrbjorn expected. So predictable are the followers of the snake. What was a bigger surprise were the banners they raised – It seemed that the prince had under his command warriors serving all the Gods. – There were units serving the Murder Lord marching alongside the warriors serving the Prince of Pleasure, The servants of Decay marched with sorcerers of the Architect of Fate.
Whoever supported the Prince, was very influential.
- Do you see? All of that was pointless for you! – Prince laughed in triumph. – No matter how hard you will fight, you will die, and your tribe will be crushed once and for all! Can you feel it? Can you…
Prince suddenly stopped when the grim chuckle reached his ears. Styrbjorn at first chortled quietly, but then he burst into laughter. He laughed so loud, that his laughter could be heard across the entire battlefield, causing fights in many places to cease entirely. While he laughed, his huscarls grinned while the Prince and his warriors looked at each other with confusion.
- Good! – Styrbjorn finally said, still amused. – More skulls for the throne!
Prince looked at him, dumbfounded while Knight Rippers cheered, and soon the well-known battle cry could be heard everywhere.
- …SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! – Skealings yelled, welcoming the incoming challenge.
- But… It is pointless! You will die! – Prince of Pain screeched, and Styrbjorn smiled to him.
- Sooner or later, we will all die. – He declared, and pointed his axe at the Prince. – Some way sooner than others.
- On that, we agree. – Another warrior stepped in, and Styrbjorn quickly examined the newcomer.
Wulfrik the Wanderer walked past the shield wall, covered in his chaos armor, on which he bore skulls of the ones he slew in the name of the Dark Gods, wielding the large sword in his right hand, and even larger shield in his left.
- Aside. – Wulfrik pushed Prince sideways with his shield, and when servant of Slannesh wanted to protest, he gave him a death stare. – Men are talking.
After shutting up the annoying shit, Wulfrik entirely focused on the High Jarl.
- Egil Styrbjorn. – He said. – Butcher of the Immortals, The Slayer of Souls, the Red Wolf. That's a new one.
- Wulfrik. – Styrbjorn replied. – The Wanderer. The Inescapable One. The Cursebearer. So the Gods finally sent you after me?
- Not the Gods, they remain silent for now. – Wulfrik answered. – Which is fascinating, since I heard that you were in very pathetic state, perhaps even insulting to your Patron.
- And yet, here I stand, covered in blood, offering the countless skulls, winning the battle in his name.
- Which is interesting, since your return from the brink sounds almost miraculous. – Wulfrik pointed his sword at the Skealing leader. – Like someone helped you.
Styrbjorn raised his twin axes, accepting the challenge. – Let's say that Fate is on my side.
The old man, was getting near the hill but was too far to see or hear the exchange, laughed gently, causing no reaction from other warriors around him, like he wasn't even there. He stopped and "looked" at the hill. Soon after, White Raven, sitting on the his shoulder cawed.
– Indeed He is. – Old man resumed his walk.
Wyjchera
In few seconds Ciri shortened distance between her and the beast. Monster raised its hand to strike, wanting to quickly crush seemingly weaker opponent, but girl dashed to the left side of the troll, making fast cut under its arm, rendering it useless and immobilizing it for few seconds. Troll didn't had time to react, it just roared in sudden pain, but it did not have time for that either, because ashen haired slashed its back, causing even more pain. It tried to turn its head to face her, but she again wasn't there, and before the beast realized that, another cut, this time second arm, and soon after its knee stopped responding.
Daemon inside the troll knew what she was doing. – She basically danced around the clumsy beast while troll tried to comprehend what is going on. If he doesn't stop her somehow, she will soon hit troll's nape, and after that even Nurglites regeneration would not be enough. Troll tried to grab her, but again it missed its mark, unlike the girl's steel. Now troll lost its fingers, which flew in all directions, while small pool of troll's blood started to grow under its feet. For the troll, that human was untouchable, It was not even able see her most of the time!
KILL HER! Daemon yelled in desperation
But there was no use, beast was taking hit after hit, and yet another arrow sank in, this time in his forehead.
Pointies hurt.
DO NOT FOCUS ON THEM! KILL HER!
Deamon wasn't losing his temper, no, she lost it when he was forced into this stinky, worthless body by this thrall. Anger started to mix with a panic, because he felt that with every second his essence was leaving this accursed body. And when it finally happen he will lose his body for another century. All pleasures he will miss, all the pain he won't cause. She cannot let it happen, HE REFUSE!
DIE! DIE! DIE!
- DOUIOEEE! – Troll screeched unnaturally while smashing the ground around itself in attempt to squash the ashen hair, but as always, it wasn't even close.
- How to kill it!? – Asked Ciri making another precise hit into the beast's knee tendon.
- It cannot regenerate without a head! – Yelled Kazimierz back, piercing creatures side.
- Ok that shouldn't be hard now. – Ciri muttered under her breath watching how more Kislevites were closing in with flaming torches. Those took their time and were better armed, some even had armor.
NO, I CANNOT BE BANISHED YET! – Daemon screeched in troll's mind NOT NOW! NEVER!
Troll again swinged its massive hand at Ciri, but she again avoided the strike, leaving nasty wound on it.
DIE YOU BITCH!
Monster smashed the earth with its fist, sending ice shards and dirt everywhere, but other than making a small hole, it didn't even landed close to her.
DIE YOU USELESS HUMAN!
Troll felt kislevite steel piercing its back, and soon after, it felt fire in it. kislevite battle cries broke through the air as they delivered more and blows to the monster. But both troll and Daemon stopped feeling pain or suffering, the only feeling remained.
HATRED.
- JUST DIE!
That sudden, loud and coherent cry throw Cire out of guard, and she soon after she realized the danger, she barely avoided the now blindingly fast strike of troll's hand, doing so only thanks to her instinct, and in the same move, she cut the hand off. When she rolled back, she gave the monster a glance, and that sight froze her in place for few seconds.
Beast screeched with such violence and hatred in its voice that even hardened Kislevites stepped back, covering their ears, screaming in pain of the high-pitched voice. When Ciri looked at the monster, the beast stared back, grabbed arrow in its eye, and pulled it off with the fountain of blood. Soon after, eye regenerated, but instead of the yellow one like before, it was glowing in purple. Worse, Ciri noticed the change the beast's stare – no longer clueless or stupid. No, she saw intelligence, malice, and, most importantly, hatred. Hatred focused on her. Not as object or food. As a person.
Norscan wasteland
The first strike belonged to Egil, and Garmr, one the mighty twin axes, smashed against Wanderer's shield with as much power as rampaging avalanche, causing a surprised huff from the Challenger and large dent in his shields, yet his grip and footing remained firm, and he quickly retaliated with the strike on his own, attacking Styrbjorn 's head with his sword, swifter than a skin wolf, yet as mighty as the mad Frost-Wyrm. However, before he could decapitate renowned butcher, Styrbjorn parried the blade with Gormr, and attacked again. His twin axes fell on Wulfrik like a twin thunderbolts, only to again be stopped by the shield, hitting it with such strength that the sound of the impact could be heard across the entire battlefield.
The duel went like this for minutes, Wanderer clearly in defense while Jarl of Skealing relentlessly assaulted his foe, not because Wanderer was less skilled, far the opposite.
At first, Wulfrik simply wanted to test High Jarl's capabilities - He heard about not only his age, but also about how Skealing displeased his God. He thought that, without the aid of his patron, Egil will quickly tire, allowing Challenger to end the fight with one, quick strike. Second reason was caution - He was the Gods Champion not only because he insulted them with his drunken ramble, but also because he was very capable warrior, and now, after years of travelling around the world and slaying powerful foes, he knew that overconfidence and underestimating his enemy is very quick way to the mound. And third was time, which he had plenty of, allowing him to study High Jarl's movements.
Styrbjorn, on the other hand, couldn't allow himself to waste time. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the reinforcements of the Slanneshi champion were troubling news, because they could cause further, irreplaceable losses to his tribe. And each warrior was necessary, if he wanted to achieve his goals. So he attacked with all his rage he could muster, with all of the aggression the Khorne chosens are well known for.
As the champions clashed, their strikes echoing through the valley and the mountains, warriors of both sides cheered, in unsaid contest of louder encouragement - when Styrbjorn landed a successful hit, Skealing cheered, when Wulfrik did so, warriors serving the Prince cheered as well, of course louder than Skealings. Enraged, Norscans yelled even louder, not allowing some sluts to best them, causing further escalation.
Duel of two powerful warriors, and a duel of voices? Both Khorne and Slannesh snickered from their respective realms, and somehow, their followers heard it, and continued their rivalry with renewed passion.
Not all were participating in that "fun" - one treacherous mind whispered something to the sorcerer standing in the crowd, and when Prince discreetly pointed his finger at two combatants, sorcerer nodded in silence.
Strike after strike, Styrbjorn attacked low and high, trying to overwhelm his opponent, while Wulfrik retaliated, and his blade hit Egil's chaos plate with might, aiming directly at heart, but it slide from the armor, and although leaving a large dent in it, the blade did not pierced it. This gave an opening for the High Jarl, which he quickly used, landing a powerful blow on Wulfrik's shoulder, but Garmr didn't cut through the chaotic steel. Both warriors cursed - that fight took long enough, and all they could do is scratch each other?
Styrbjorn knew that he needs to get rid of his foe's shield, since, although battered and marked after Gormr's strikes, it still served as a reliable defense. He noticed however that one of the dents is far deeper than the rest, nearly splitting the shield in half. Maybe if he hit it with enough force, he would break through and destroy it?
Wulfrik meanwhile realized that the key to victory lies in removing one of the twin axes - as long as Styrbjorn has them, any attack carried great risk with minimal reward. He looked at his opponent and, from how Egil positioned himself and his hands, realized what Skealing want to do next. However, instead of counteracting, he made a cunning smile, hatching a plan of his own. Bold for sure, but better than keeping the stalemate going.
With all of his might, Egil Styrbjorn slammed Gormr into Wanderer's shield, tearing through it and plunging his axe into Wulfrik's armored gauntlet, piercing it as well, finally scoring a blood. But his victory was short lived when he realized that his weapon stuck inside the remains of the shield, and Challenger used it.
He pulled now wounded hand, stretching Styrbjorn 's arm in the process, and his sword started to fall on the outstretched hand like a guillotine, leaving Egil no choice but to let go of his weapon. He returned his now empty hand just in time to avoid crippling strike, and Skealing jumped backwards, finally breaking contact with the red-head challenger. Styrbjorn watched in anger as Wulfrik throw far away his shield with axe still inside. With the axe and shield out of the way, Wulfrik quickly glanced at his wound.
- Still powerful Old Man, gonna give you that - He showed Egil his wounded arm, which slowly bled on his armored gauntlet, marking the black steel with crimson - But taking small wound for an axe? Gladly.
He grabbed his sword with two hands now, and changed his stand to the more offensive one.
- Ready for the real fight?
Egil chuckled, grabbed Garmr with both hands, just like Wulfrik grabbed his own weapon.
- Always.
Wyjchera
Ciri blinked in surprise when beast, instead of another attempt to smash her, attacked her with its arms overstretched, and tried to cleave her in half with non-existent talons. She moved backwards to avoid this sudden change of behavior, but troll quickly caught up, not leaving her moment to breath.
She quickly noticed how troll's actions drastically changed – the slow, hulking monster she fought merely seconds ago now started to turn into fast and somewhat agile. Instead of predictable smashes and swings, it now started to combine its attacks – swings, slashes and punches started to become not only more frequent, but also faster and precise
It's like someone turned bruxa into a fiend - Ciri thought when she ducked under yet another overstretched swing. From what experience told her, monsters of that body-build and size are not able to move and react that quickly, since muscles are not able to handle that kind of rapid movements. That could potentially burst them and render the entire limb useless, and Ciri clearly saw that monster already damaged them while trying to hit her. And yet, despite that, it started to slowly match Ciri's speed. Before she could ask herself how is that possible, she saw how the deep wound she dealt to the beast right arm started to regenerate – muscles reattached themselves with some purple vines, and soon whole section of the body was covered in purple, pulsating flesh.
It mutates!? She thought, and then she rolled away from the yet another punch delivered to the ground, but before she could fully stand, monster was nearly on top of her and swinged with such ferocity and speed at it almost caught her.
It looked like the beast went insane, completely forgetting about the rest of the world, its maddened stare following the hated ashen-hair. Although that kind of unwanted attention put Ciri in though spot, it allowed Kislevites to reorganize.
- Orders? – Kislevite soldier asked his commander, who assessed the situation.
- This is wrong. – She said and turned to Kazimierz. – Trolls don't behave like that.
- No, they don't – He confirmed her suspicions.
- Do not approach it alone! – Commander ordered. – Pikes and shots everyone!
Kislevites made two lines – first wielding the spears and shields while the second line drew their pistols. Then, when pistoleers formed a line, and aimed at the rampaging monster, spearman and shield-bearers knelt, giving their comrades a clear shot.
- Ciri! – Kazimierz yelled, and Ciri gave him a quick stare. Realizing their plan, she faked jump to the side, only to swiftly go left, to make troll not stand between her and the kislevites. However, monster's wasn't fully fooled by such maneuver, to turned to her, roared and smashed the ground near her with enough force big to form a deep crater, sending large shockwave and vast amount of debris towards Cirilla, knocking her off balance for a second. Troll grinned like a predator after successful hunt, and prepared to jump towards her and finish the fight.
- FIRE!
Hail of bullets smashed into beasts side and back, dazing it and causing numerous wounds all over it, shattering its though, stone like skin. Since it tried to jump, impact of so many bullets sent it to its knees, which Ciri used.
She dashed to the dazed monster, raised her sword high and, aiming at beasts exposed nape, fell her sword in one, powerful blow. In desperation, troll raised its left arm…
Fountain of vile blood started to pour from the severed arm, and the large hand fell on the ground, while Ciri's blade struck at troll's head, but without sufficient energy, it simply put a light wound in it. Cursing, she rose her sword for the second time, but it was too late.
Troll screeched again, this time louder and more powerful than before. So powerful in fact that it made all kislevites to again cover their ears sent Ciri several meters away, causing a painful landing on the impact. She quickly rose on her feet, but her ears rung like crazy, disorienting her for short moment. When the ears finally stopped ringing, she shook her head and immediately looked at the beast, expecting it already charging at her while she was dazed, but something different happen, and far worse.
Troll rose up on its feet, and looked at Kislvites with anger. Soon after, in place of severed arm the new limb grew – a thick, black crab claw with blade so large that it could potentially snap human in half. From its back, in place where all the bullets struck, pink tentacles rose, some fleshy and sickly soft, while few were similar to the scorpion's. And severed hand grew more tentacles and reattached itself into the creature side.
- Chaos spawn! – Kislvites yelled, and Troll, wanting to prove them how wrong they horrible were, answered that call with a roar, which sounded like a summon.
Then, just behind the troll, purple portal opened, and Ciri could hear the hisses and laughter coming from the other side. Soon after, grotesque monsters, which looked like a fusion between male and female, but with addition to the crab claws instead of arms, run out of the portal and charged at now terrified kislevites.
Daemonettes charged at kislevites warriors, eager to inflict pain and suffering on the mortals, all according the wishes of their most esteemed herald. Some fell to the coordinated salvo of bullets, but many reached the first line of the kossars.
Ciri turned her attention at the beast, not wanting to witness the skirmish. – Screams of pain and suffering were just enough. And she stared directly into the monster's eyes. And the beast answered that stare.
- Youuu… - Troll said in three different voices. – You made me into thissss. – It added with snake like hiss while looking at its hands. – If not for you, that thrall wouldn't shove me into this… PATHETIC FORM! – It again looked at dumbfounded Cirilla with fury and madness. – You will sssuffer for thisss.
- What the… - Ciri wanted to say, but monster already launched its attack, violently smashing the place where she were with three tentacles. Although she dodged that, it was quickly followed by crab claw snapping near her head. And again, and again in rapid succession. After few such lightning like strikes Ciri realized that she is not able to plan her fight anymore, only being able to dodge, since blocking was out of options. She knew she can't do it forever, not even short time, because she knew that after next six moves, the thing will put her in position in which she won't be able to back off.
'
- Back off! – Kazimierz blocked the strike of the daemonette, but before he could finish her, another monster snapped its shark like jaw near his throat, forcing him to back off.
Whole squad fought for their lives as the daemonettes attacked with amok, sensing their fear and blood. They feared of course not the daemons themselves, but what they will do to their families if they fail to stop them here.
But their weapons proved to be insufficient against rampaging lesser daemons –strikes of blades and hammers or direct shots into chests, which would put even toughest Norscan champions in the ground, monsters just shrugged of like mere nuisance and continued fighting, while kislevite blood started to pour into the ground, and their wounded or broken, but not dead bodies started fall, and muffled screams of pain could be heard from them.
Kazimierz knew why none of his fellows didn't die yet – unlike other deamons, daemonettes loved to inflict prolonged pain, and instead of going for instant killing blow, they hacked off kislevites limbs, bite their arms or cut off their fingers, just to inflict as much suffering as possible. Daemons simply wanted to immobilize them, and have some fun later.
As Kazimierz slashed another daemonette, he heard the scream of pain from his commander, and when he turned around and watched how woman's leg was bitten off by a daemons sharp teeth.
- Mat! – He yelled and rushed towards her, as the daemon threw away the leg and aimed at her prey with both off its claws. However, before it could finish the job, Kazimierz's blade took off its head.
- Motherfucker. – Matylda spit and disappearing corpse, bleeding from the stump. She greeted the helping hand from her second in command with grim resolve. – Is this the day Kazi?
- Not when I… - Kazimierz lifted his commander up, only for another daemon to jump at them both with murderous grin. He quickly pushed Matylda back and retracted his hand, but he was to slow.
He watched how his thumb flew away after talons of daemonette shred his hand, and before he could counter strike his foe, monster already disarmed him. Quite literally.
He fell on the ground, not feeling his left hand and entire right arm, not able to fight back anymore. As hell to the ground, he watched how his fellows fell all around him without their hands, legs, arms, surrounded by laughing monsters. He watched how Matylda is jumped on by three different daemons, and swings her blade in last attempt to push them back.
Kazimierz laid on the ground, enjoying the last moments of relative "peace", since he knew what comes next…
Suddenly, the bottle full of blue ash flew through the air, and exploded above the battlefield, falling on both kislevites and daemons. And while humans felt nothing from it, daemons screeched in not pleasurable pain. Daemonettes tried to remove the ash from their eyes, from their tongues as it scorched their summoned flesh.
The again, a green light fell on the wounded soldiers, and miracle started to happen. – Their severed limbs, lost fingers and gouged eyes flew into the air and reattached into its places, and their bodies reinvigorated. When Kazimierz again felt his right arm, and the blade in it, he grinned with renewed resolve.
- FIGHT, CHILDREN OF THE BEAR! – Zuza yelled, her eyes and hands glowing. – PUSH BACK THE DAEMONS SCOURAGE.
Another bottle flew into the air, and fast moving rock struck it, and silver-like ash attached itself to Kislevites weapons. When Kazimierz looked at his now silver-covered blade, and without hesitation stabbed nearest daemonette, turning the lesser daemon into ash.
Daemons started to realize what just happened, but kislevites already fell on them with the fury the of the Bear in their hearts. They stabbed and smashed now weakened wave of daemons, sending them back screaming into hell they came from, but before they could finish the job, more poured from the portal.
- Where is the summoner!? – Zuza approached the reorganized line of soldiers, looking at Matylda and Kazimierz.
- I reckon it is. – Kazimierz pointed with his sword at the rampaging chaos spawn, but when he looked at the fight, he realized that Ciri is losing badly,
- By Ursun, in next four strikes she will…!
three…
'
Changeling looked at Cirilla with anticipation, expecting her to finally do, what she was made to do!
When he employed the herald, he expected it to quickly die. – She will just use her power and burn the Daemon away, just like she did during the fall, or she will do something different with her might. And yet, here we are.
It was eventful fight, he admitted to himself. Who would have thought that in that village lives some powerful adept of Ghyran? That the Herald will be able to summon a small daemonic incursion in that state? All were worthy information for later use.
His master will be… disappointed if she just die like that, but seeing her smashed to bits by a rampaging monster was quite a show. From his many adventures, when he imposed himself as a blade master or legendary warrior he knew that if something didn't happen now, her short visit will end in two moves. He watched how Ciri lost her steel blade, trying to block the incoming attack, only for it to shatter into hundreds of metal piece.
One…
'
The time itself slowed down for her, as she could only watch how the crab claw is falling on her, ready to snap her in half. She knew there is one way out, and as she started to slightly glow, preparing to blink far from the beast reach, only for the steel showel to strike at the reaching claw, shattering it in the process. Before Ciri could realize what is happening, showel dugged itself deeply into troll's mouth, stunning it and pushing it backwards.
- You alright? – Percival gave her a hand, and Ciri quickly grabbed to stand, while troll desperately tried to remove the tool from its mouth with one arm, while the rest of its limbs swinged around to deny anyone a killing blow.
- Why are you…
- I came here to give you something back. – He showed her Zireael. – I think it missed you.
Ciri took her blade with renew vigor, and looked at her reflection the blade.
- You have no idea. – She looked back at the troll, which couldn't remove the weapon from its mouth in time, when purple flesh grew all around it.
- We deal with this fucker? – Percival grabbed from under his wolf-cape a medium sized bardish, and Ciri nodded I agreement.
- Once and for all.
Norscan wasteland
Styrbjorn and Wulfrik breathed heavily, each wounded deeply by the other, hilts of their weapons covered in blood, their armors shattered and in some places broken, their faces smashed into the bloody pulps. And yet they stood, preparing to the finale.
- You are though. Old man. – Wulfrik said. – For a Skealing.
- You are brave, Cursebearer. – Egil responded. – For a Sarl
Styrbjorn grabbed Garmr again, mustering all the remaining strength, while his warriors cheered for him, but none dared to interfere into trial by combat, although some Knight Rippers covered in red and yellow painted armor's stood near, ready to respond for any treachery, while other side did the same, in case of Skealing betrayal. They were enemies, and they would kill each other without hesitation, despite the fun contest they had, treachery in trial by combat, before the watching Gods was an offense, for which immediate retribution called.
Wulfrik grabbed his blade double handed, his red beard now covered in blood, and, despite being far away, aimed directly at Styrbjorn's neck, while High Jarl removed his shattered helmet from his face, since it wasn't useful anymore. They stared at each other for a few seconds, trying to provoke another to make a first move, but both the Wandere and the Butcher knew whose reinforcements are coming.
Egil yelled his prayer and charged, his axe raised high, while Wulfrik raised his blade to block and potentially cut of High Jarl's head. Or maybe Styrbjorn will break through his defense and claim victory? Wulfrik found this ironic. – He fought champions from all around the world, and his closest moment to death was in Norsca, by the hand of the nemesis of his past tribe.
He braced for the impact, ready for anything to come. Or so he thought, when Egil's eyes widened in shock, and he stopped swinging his axe at the Challenger, which he at first wanted to use, but he started to hear a whistle behind him, accompanied by the screams of rage…
As he slightly turned around, he watched how a large fireball fly directly in his direction, ready to scorch him. He couldn't run or jump away, because he didn't have enough time to react. He didn't know how he suddenly found himself on the ground, only his back burnt by fire.
He raised his head and stared into his savior's eyes in confusion.
- Why did you…? – He asked Egil Strybjorn, who, instead of slicing him with his axe, tackled him to the ground, saving him.
- No warrior should be stabbed in the back by a coward. – He stated, and pointed at the Prince of Pain and his sorcerer, who had an arrogant smug on his face.
- COWARD! – Skealings yelled.
- TRAITOR! – Wulfrik yelled, and quickly raised on his feet, his sword ready to spill blood.
- You weren't supposed to move you damn mongrel! – Prince said. – My sorcerer would finish him off.
- You Skaven loving…
- You thought I will give up this great victory!? – Prince interrupted him, starting his rant. – I don't need some trained monkey to win battles for me! I don't know what I did to deserve such punishment – keeping you dirty dog at my side, undermining me at every step. But I will prove him he was so wrong! My rewards will be great.
Styrbjorn watched how legions off of the Chaos warriors started to close in on his army, and cursed in rage. It took him too long.
- Finish them! – Prince ordered, and his warriors… hesitated. They weren't sure that betraying the trial of combat before the Gods was a good move, and many feared that the Dark Powers will deliver them their divine judgement if they follow the Prince's order.
- I said kill them! – Prince demanded, and his warriors reluctantly started to close the distance, while the Skealings rushed to their wounded jarl, while he prepared Garmr for the last final…
- Excuse me. – new voice said, causing both sides to stand in place due to confusion – what a blind, old man with a stick is doing on the battlefield? – Is anyone of you Egil Styrbjorn?
- The voice of the Gods… - Wulfrik muttered, recognizing the white raven on newcomer's shoulder, while Prince broke off from his ranks.
- Away old man, unless you want to join the…
- Hush. – Old man put his thin finger on prince's lips. – I ask again, is…
- I am. – Egil answered, and Old man removed his hood, revealing to everyone his white hair. He then turned to High Jarl and smiled.
- Cease this needless fight. – His voice boomed across the battlefield, and all warriors stopped in their tracks, confusion raising among the ranks. – And Wait.
- NO! – Prince raised his cordele at the man – You won't snatch my…
Wulfrik cut off the Prince's head with one, clear cut, sending the head flaying far away from the hill, only to land on the ground and slowly roll down. Old man chuckled at this event, but both he and his white raven stared directly into Styrbjorn's eyes.
- Listen well, the storm almost begun. – Both beings said in unison.
Wyjchera
Spawn launched its tentacles and quickly approached Cirilla, but she dashed to the side, and before beast could retract those limbs, Percival's bardiche sliced them in half. Monster swinged its massive arm at Percival, but it was quickly slashed open by Ziereal, spilling blood everywhere. Troll wanted to, in turn, snap the brash woman in half with its claw, but the regenerated claw was once again torn apart by the old kislevite.
Percival heard from Witold's story that Ciri is fast, but he assumed that it was just slight exaggeration on kid's part. He was wrong. – She was that fast. Her every step, mere move of a muscle was calculated for single reason – to keep pace, reaching something to perfect unison between her and her blade. He could swear that only he saw that kind of fight style in some elves. That was just impossible – human can't be that swift and agile.
He sliced troll's right side, inflicting a very deep and painful wound, and when the monster swinged it's another grown arm at him, Ciri cut through the beast's belly, nearly gutting it in the process. Enraged monster tried to respond with serpent like arm, but bardiche ripped through the purple flesh like wood, cutting it off.
What exactly is this monster? – Percival thought after avoiding the talon. – Connection to Slannesh is clear, but it behaves like no other spawn. – He pierced through the creature's side, and took large chunk of flesh of it, trying to weaken the remaining arm. – It tries to respond to both us like an intelligent foe, not primordial beast. – He blocked the crab claw with his weapon, allowing Ciri to cut it off. – And it summoned Daemonettes. It is a herald!?
With this thought he noticed the hilt of his showel, sticking from the beast's mouth. He shared a quick look with Ciri, and decided to finally end the fight.
He ducked under the tentacle and jumped for the showel with his left arm, grabbed the hilt and pulled with all his strength, pulling the beast forward, forcing it to show its neck. Ciri again swinged at the exposed neck, ready to cut off the beast's head.
- LOOK OUT! – both heard Kazimierz scream, and Ciri parried slash from two approaching Daemonettes, both daemons desperate to save their master. Percival however didn't stop pulling, he made one last, inhuman even, show of strength, and retook his weapon, alongside the monster's lower jaw and tongue. With weapon in each hand, he stared at the beast, tearing down the lingering, bloody flesh from his recovered weapon with his bardiche.
- Come on, that's all you got!? – He challenged the monster, and it tried to roar, but without a jaw it's really hard to do. Percival charged at the monster, and started to slash it mercilessly, he attacked so relentlessly, with such ferocity, that even regeneration boosted by the daemon couldn't keep up. He took the monster's flesh, ripped it's arm's and talons to bloody pieces, tore through the bones and muscles like wood.
Yes, Die you abomination! Die you ugly… Wait, no, no, focus your…
That act of hesitation let the beast made one strike, not very powerful, since it was the last arm remaining, but strong enough to throw him off balance, and before Percival could regain his composure, beast pushed him to the ground, stunning him for a moment. He watched how troll raise his remaining limb, its hateful stare directed at the laying Kislevite. Percival nodded in acceptance, knowing that it is what it is, at least he chose…
His thoughts were suddenly stopped when Ciri appeared on troll's back, cut off the beast's head with one swing, the disappeared again, just to reappear in another flash of the green light to cut off the falling hand, which would still fell on the retired soldier. When she appeared just before him, he looked at his savior with confusion, not believing what he saw. Before the troll's body could fall on the ground, he felt it. Their dread.
Their Attention
'
Khorne watched from his throne as his champions stopped fighting and started to talk with some newcomer. Never before, he felt so… robbed. That fight had everything – battle against all odds, blood, exciting duel, blood, plot twist, and ever more blood. Not to mention skulls. Yeah, skulls were as important, but he couldn't of course forget about blood.
Before he could unleash his anger, he felt something he didn't expect to feel ever again.
THEIR BLOOD!? His attention left the battle, forgetting completely about weak climax, and traveled not that far, to the land of the bear, small village, in the middle of the unforgiven, frozen land. He knew about the fight going on there, but they were just Slanneshi sluts, why should he care? Skirmish was fun, sure, and Kislevites proved again to be formidable fighters, but in Norsca was just more blood. And skulls.
But now, this fight was more important…
And he felt that he wasn't alone… His two siblings were also here, watching the Ashen-haired woman with either excitement and fear…
'
Nurgle sat in his mansion, reading his favorite book, tired after attending to his precious garden, while his children run around. A green fire from the fleshy fireplace warmed his skin, while the cauldron boiled slightly, his another invention already brewing.
Life is good He thought, after fixing his glasses and patting one of his pet beasts, while nurglings played on his lap. Then he felt it - Feeling, he hoped he would never feel again.
He rose up from his chair, throwing off surprised nurglings from his belly, and rushed to the window. When he stared down at the mortal plane, to the small, once peaceful village in the north, he saw it. – A girl bearing their blood.
Oh no he muttered in fear, sensing trouble. And he felt that he wasn't alone… His two siblings were also here, watching the Ashen-haired woman with excitement and… hope?
'
Slannesh was invigorated at this moment – everywhere something was happening, his subjects fighting for attention, and she gave it to them. All at once. It was fun and exciting.
Sure, he was slightly annoyed when champions started to talk rather than kill, but that was also knew, it almost looked like something is going to happen.
Hmmm, I wonder what that tentacle monster is up too. I never knew why he hates me, we have so much in common. You know, the tentacle stuff. Then, he felt it, in a place she watched four minutes ago. A presence she didn't expect to feel ever again.
Is this…!? Slannesh's whole attention landed on the village in the far north, in the lands of the bear, where she found her. She screamed in happiness and joy! YES, IT IS!
She also felt she wasn't alone here, her siblings also here, sharing this moment of excitement, one with fear, of course, and second with… hope? It isn't his vibe, it's that bird-lover…
In that moment, all three realized that someone was lacking, and it took them few seconds due to confusion – Nurgle and Slannesh assumed the one showing was Tzeentch, and Khorne thought that Slannesh was not able to focus itself on something for more than a five seconds.
Where is Tzeentch? They screamed and thought at the same time, not looking at the sky, on which the twin-tailed comet appeared.
Norscan Wasteland
Storm crashed through the mountains, shattering stone and ice. It flew above the battlefield, striking lightning in all directions, while Norscans and warriors from the wastes covered in fear. The Storm approached the hill, on which champions stood. Then, it spoke.
Styrbjornnn. The thousands of lightnings struck all over the place, but the voice was clearly heard despite that. You get my support in your quest, bear my mark as a sign of my favor.
The blue lightning struck Styrbjorn's chest, sending him backwards, but not making him fall on his knees. As he felt the mark forming on his skin, The Clouds laughed, while warriors stared at the anomaly with awe.
Kneel my warriors, for my contender for the Everchosen raise from the ashes of despair! And warriors following the Architect of Fate bend their knees, not sure what their God want to accomplish, but they are mere mortals, who they are who question his will?
Altdorf
- My Prince! – Guard yelled to Karl. – By the Twin tailed Comet, the Twin Tailed Comet!
Karl was sitting on the throne, discussing some topics with his guest from Ulthuan when both heard the guard. They quickly rushed to the window, and watched the Omen of Sigmar flying through the sky.
- Is this…? – Karl asked, and Teclis nodded, but suddenly leaned on the wall, and before Franz could ask what is going on, elf's eyes opened again, this time shining in white light.
What was certain, became impossible, what was unthinkable, now can be.
Architect's hand reached of its domain, Lady of the Lake traverse world once again…
Ulthuan, Averlorn
Tyrion watched the performance at the open sky theater, alongside the Everqueen, serving as the official representative of the Pheonix king, but unofficially, he pulled some strings. He noticed her beautiful smile, her presence making his heart beat little bit faster. If by watching some actors he could have more time with her, he was completely fine with that.
He wanted to say something, comment on the play, but he noticed her smile fade, and she looked at the sky. He followed her stare, and saw it – the Dragon with Two Tails
- Is this… - He wanted to ask her, but he noticed that her eyes turned completely white.
…The rules have changed, the stakes are higher, the price for winner unthinkable,
End Times are set aside, the Ending of Worlds at the Beast's reaching claw…
Norscan wasteland
Before the storm faded, and enraged roar tore through the air, and the mountain of fire rose from the ground, spewing not magma and rocks, but blood and skulls. While warriors stared at it with disbelief, the mountain spoke.
You proved yourself today my champion, you showed me that you are worthy of my mark!Llet it fuel you once again!
Styrbjorn fell on his knees, feeling the Mark of the Butcher being reborn in fire of rage, while mountain roared it command.
Kneel my warriors, for the Red Wolf starts it's hunt in my name!
Skealings knelt immediately, and warriors following the High Marshal serving in deceased Prince army did so as well, eager to follow the Champion of the Blood God!
Lustria, Hexaotl
Skinks run all across the star chamber, wanting to confirm what is going to occur, while single Slann meditated. With closed eyes, he felt the presence of the one he expected to see today.
- Child of the First Spawn. – He greeted the orange skink appearing from the shadow. – You came to warn me?
- Yesss, voice of the Old Ones. – Oxyotl bowed his head with respect. – Vision of the Old Ones themselves will soon appear in your mind.
- Will it bring what I fear?
- It may bring dire news to all of us, but you cannot lose yourself to despair, Almighty, for that vision will also bring hope.
When Mazdamundi nodded, he closed his eyes and prepared to for what is coming. He didn't wait long, for the skinks started to point at the sky after a minute or two, seeing the Forked Tongue of Sotek flying through the night sky. Soon, his eyes opened, and gathered skinks and temple guards awaited his words.
…Hound of Gods start its search,
Winter king's will ride across the sky…
Naggarond,
- You truly believe your vision? – The Witch King stood at the balcony alongside his mother and cabal of most trusted seers.
- I don't know what is this about, but something significant to us all will happen today. – Morathi turned to the her cabal – Make sure that nothing will interfere.
- Yes, Mistress.
Mortahi then turned her attention back towards the sky, until she felt it.
- There! – She pointed out, and Malekith followed her finger, and saw the Dragon with Two Tails.
- So it beg… He wanted to say, but the vision struck him like a thunderbolt, showing him a possibility that he couldn't even imagine in his wildest dreams – the Blood is finally here.
…Lord of Shadows will stalk Swallow's path,
Monster of thousands faces will lead her from trap to trap…
'
The heavenly choir suddenly broke the night sky, and the golden light fell upon the battlefield, confusing all gathered here even more. The choir approached the hill, and song about the brave warriors was sounded, the warriors who gained attention of the Prince.
This amuse me mortal, but no doubt you gained their attention, and with that, my favor.
Golden light fell on Styrbjorn's chest, and where was once the wound made by the Wanderer, skin reattached itself into the mark of the Snake.
Show him my love, my subjects! Praise his name loud enough for everyone to hear!
Warriors of Slannesh fell on their knees, following command of the Dark Prince without hesitation, screaming High Jarl's name on top of their lungs, while Styrbjorn slowly started to laugh, reality exceeding his expectations.
Road to Oxenfurt, Temeria
- …You seriously went into the painting? – Yennefer asked, not even surprised anymore.
- Mhm. Wasn't all that bad at first. Until her worst fears took form.
- And you finally gave her peace?
- Sort off. – Before the Witcher could get into details, he felt something crawling on his back. When turned around, he saw the Twin Tailed Comet flying through the sky.
- The Hell… You see that Yen? – He turned to her, only to see that the sorceress nearly fell from her horse. When he grabbed her, he pulled her closer and stared directly into now white eyes.
…But wolf and fox will also search
Same goals, different men…,
Nagflar
- We are closing to the shore my liege! – One of the warriors said.
Eredin didn't paid much attention, entirely focused on the mountain, which's peak pierced through the clouds, perhaps even higher than that.
- It is impressive. – Imlerith noted. – I hope their warriors are also.
- I hope that too… - Eredin said, and something caught his sight.
A Twin Tailed Comet above the mountain's peak. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that Comet's appearance must be somehow linked to Ziereal.
- Caranth… - He turned to his Navigator, only find him on his knees, and his golden eyes glowing with white flame.
…But whatever happen, the one is true,
What was certain, became impossible, what was unthinkable, now can be.
'
The bodies of the fallen rolled all over the battlefield towards the one place, while terrified warriors jumped away from the corpses. Soon, from the mountain of the fallen, the tree struck by rot and ill rose from it, growing more and more towards the Butcher of the Immortals. Although disgusted by that sight, Chief of the Skealing didn't flinch when tree opened it mouth.
Bear my mark, and show me that you are worthy of it. – creature said with great reluctance, before the hundreds of flies flew from all across the field, seemingly coming into the existence from the bodies of the dead, and tore into one of the wounds Wulfrik dealt to the Slayer. Before Styrbjorn could even growl in pain, the unholy work was done.
Follow him in his quest my Children. – Tree simply said before it collapsed into the ground and rotted away, while the gathered warriors in service of the crow knelt, joining
- LONG LIVE THE EGIL STYRBJORN! – Knight reaper yelled – LONG LIVE THE BRINGER OF ANNIHIALTION!
- LONG LIVE THE EVERCHOSEN! – All warriors yelled as one, and Egil laughed in triumph, seeing from the hill his new army, ready to follow his every command. He rose his axes high for everyone to see, and
Finally, he will claim, what is rightfully his. And even more.
'
Author's note
This one took a way more than I thought. But yeah, we finally made it! It is the semi finale of arc 1 (I guess). Little longer than most of my chapters, but, since it took me a hell of a time and effort to make, I am making a small break, which means next chapter will be little bit late.
If you catch something in my style of writing, feel free to message me, constructive criticism is always welcome.
See you in the future.