Huntmaster Darren
"To Esk!" A man shouted, stein in hand.
"To Esk!" Two dozen others raised their mugs, and chugged.
"Another round to Fredrick for bagging the most game!"
"To Fredrick!"
Darren joined in with the rest, and let loose with a wild burp after chugging his drink. Foam coated his bushy mustache as he sagged back into his seat, and closed his eyes in contentment.
"A word Huntmaster." A bald muscular man sat across from Darren.
"Hans." Darren snapped his eyes open, and said tersely.
"Ahem. So me and some o the lads were thinkin. We may've offended Sir Mark. We was wonderin, what with how close you two is."
"Out with it Hans." Darren said gruffly, then tapped his fingers on the bar indicating he wanted a refill to the barmaid.
"Well…could you put a good word in for us?" Hans all but pleaded. He placed three silver shillings on the table, and looked at Darren hopefully.
"Keep your coin." Darren ignored Hans's pathetic look, and took another swig at his now refilled mug.
"But!"
"I hear Sir Mark is collecting tables for some reason." Darren turned away, and gave Hans the cold shoulder.
"Thank you Huntmaster! You're the best, I'll never make fun of your mustache again?" Hans cried out before quickly leaving the bar.
"Hmm?" Darren turned around, only to see the tavern had gone quiet.
"Huntmaster, come quick, a regiment of armed men are outside the gates!" An armed man came bursting through the door shouting.
"Bah, must be the Drakwald Patrol. The Count's men are late as usual." Darren took another large gulp of his stein, then slammed it down on the bar.
He strode out, flanked by two dozen men. He squinted his eyes in the bright mid afternoon light.
Two weeks had passed since the Workers District had burnt down in the beastman raid.
Darren nodded his head in satisfaction at the swift reconstruction. Almost half of the lots had new buildings. It wouldn't be long before everything had been rebuilt.
Although, between the raid and the fight at the hill, Esk was down 324 souls. Housing wasn't as much of a concern when there were less people to fill them.
Darren scowled at his failure to hold the gate. Feelings of self-doubt, anger and failure
lead him to stomp towards the gate in fuming silence.
Stepping onto the other side, Darren first saw the new moat, and second earthen wall/gate, courtesy of Sir Mark. The wall and moat were constructed on a cloudy, moonless night. Darren heard rumors of magic, but kept such gossip to a minimum. Sir Mark was a Champion of Morr, and what occurred was a miracle of the Gods. To think otherwise would be disastrously unhealthy.
Walking past the second gate, Darren came face first with a regiment of well armored men all dressed in Hochland's colors of red and green.
Darren roughly counted 500 men. They stood at parade rest in a rectangular formation. The front row consisted of 400 pikes, and behind them were 100 musketeers.
"Huntmaster Darren, we meet again." A short, lithe man with a finely groomed beard and mustache came forward holding his hand out.
"Captain Katzbulger." Darren ignored the hand in favor of rubbing his burly mustache.
Katzbulger lowered his hand, and nodded his head.
"Apologies for our late arrival, we were putting down some bandits to the south, and were forced off our schedule. My men and I would be happy to aid you in whatever way we can. As you know, my unit is due to patrol this section of the North Road for the next two weeks, sorry to trouble you."
"The barracks are burnt down. Find your own accommodations." Darren scowled then turned back into the town.
Captain Katzbulger
A week had passed since he and his regiment of State Troopers had embedded themselves in Esk.
Despite the recent raid three weeks ago, the townspeople seemed lively.
Katzbulger was enjoying a cup of tea in the townsquare watching some children climb on, and play around the stuffed corpse of a beastman chimera.
A squadron of his men were also practicing with their halberds nearby. It was standard procedure to show off in whatever town they visited. There was no better way to recruit impressionable young men, then to show off martial prowess.
At least, that would be the case before he learnt of the chimera.
Before he had seen the monstrosity, Katzbulger had been quite proud of himself. Three months ago, when he first took this commission, his unit disdained him for being the son of a noble. Hochlander's were a proud people, and different from every province in the Empire. In fact, several families had become commoners, and replaced throughout the centuries by those who proved themselves in the Drakwald.
Such had been the case ever since the first tribes of men called this forest home. When the first Count fell in combat without an heir, his replacement was the finest hunter in all the lands. Such a tradition had persisted over the two thousand years since the formation of the Empire. In fact, the current Elector Counts, the Ludenhof's were the fifth family to lead the province. They replaced the previous leaders by cleansing a large portion of the Drakwald. That portion free of beastmen became the provincial capital, Hergig.
Nobility in Hochland was only hereditary if the children proved themselves to be noble huntsmen.
And prove himself Katzbulger did! After slaying a minotaur single handedly, he had earned his place amongst Hochland's gentry.
The beast was the champion of its herd, and stood at least 8ft tall, and was thick as a tree. Every step of its mighty hooves seemed to rustle the ground underneath.
Its death was a feat he, and his men took pride in. They were so proud in fact, they frequently boasted to the people of Esk while deep in their cups.
After much cajoling, and near brawls, the men of Esk had escorted them to the townsquare.
"There's your evidence!" The men of Esk pointed at the beast, and laughed at the State Trooper's stunned expressions.
Katzbulger chuckled to himself at the memory.
A fire had lit itself in his belly at that moment.
He had grown content with the respect his men had bestowed upon him. He even began to believe in the legend himself. It was a humbling experience. A lesser man would grow green in envy, or outraged at the mockery. But not Katzbulger. He would take this as a moment of growth.
Gulping his tea down, he stood up, and joined his men.
Before he had time to begin swinging his halberd, a black armored figure approached.
"Mind if I join you?" The man had long brunette hair, and an extremely pale face.
Katzbulger almost took him for a Norscan given his appearance. Only his accent gave him away as no true northerner.
"Of course, Sir?" Katzbulger said trailingly.
"Sir Mark, Order of the Black Rose." The man grinned, holding out a hand.
"Of course! I had thought you were a ghost, Sir Mark! Everytime I visited the castle, you were away on business!" Katzbulger laughed somewhat derisively, but he didn't take it to heart.
He held out his hand, but was slightly surprised when Mark reached a little further for a 'warrior's handshake' that gripped his forearm.
"Heinrich, lend Sir Mark your pike! It's time to see what the Defender of Esk is made of!"
Hierarch Mainard
"Twas flashes of red light in the mist Hierarch, afterwards, the bodies were blasted to bits! Thank Taal and Rhya he was on our side!"
"You've done good lad, thank you for sharing your story with me." Mainard clapped the young militiaman on the back before escorting him out.
Once he was gone, Mainard dropped the grandfatherly act, and sneered to himself.
Red explosive orbs? This sounded like much more than a miracle of Morr.
He wanted to take direct action, but that blasted woman was holding him back! And Darren that blasted fool was no help either! Ever since his failure to protect the town, he'd been constantly out hunting, or drunk in town!
What a useless fool! If he couldn't rely on those in town, he would have to call in some old debts.
Mainard slammed the table in front of him in anger, knocking over a bottle of Ink.
He scrambled to lift it in time to save the precious liquid. He wasn't quick enough, and his parchment became half soaked. Eyes twitching, and nose flaring, he growled to himself. This was the last piece of parchment he owned!
Mainard began to furiously scribble on his soiled parchment. He disliked those sanctimonious puritans of Altdorf, but they knew how to take care of a witch!
Trader Jerrick
Downstream from Esk, Jerrick led a small flotilla of barges to the bustling small city of Bergendorf. They boasted a population of more than 12,000 and were in close proximity to three more towns, and dozens of hamlets.
Bergendorf could maintain such a large number of people because it served as the halfway point between Hochland's capital, Hergig, and the financial juggernaut Middenheim.
This small city also received the bulk of Esk's iron, copper and lumber. As a consequence, Bergendorf was quite the popular destination for work.
Jerrick unloaded his barges at a warehouse, and set about making deals with his contacts. As the preeminent supplier of raw goods, Jerrick was quite the prominent figure in town.
Dozens of craftsmen, merchants, and guild representatives came to bid on, and exchange goods with Jerrick.
His face was all smiles as his chest became filled with coins. The slump in business after the raid on Esk had made many people worried, and this week, his materials were going for almost double what they normally sold for.
After settling many tasks, Jerrick finally found time to sort out the Defender of Esk's affairs.
"Another dozen tables Jerrick?! I ain't complaining since pay is pay, but what do you need them for?!"
"Come now friend, Esk has just suffered a catastrophe! Of course the people need tables!" Jerrick pulled at his beard, and slapped his belly.
"Of course of course, me and the boys will have those tables ready in a few days! I saw you load some busted rifles on those barges of yours. You'll probably be wanting to meet with Old Man Todmeister for some repairs. Hochland Rifles belong in the hands of Hochlanders!" The craftsman shook Jerrick's hand, and left for work.
"Of course my friend! Good doing business with you!" Jerrick shouted at his back.
When the craftsman left, Jerrick sighed to himself. Indeed, what did the Defender of Esk need so many tables for? He had heard rumors of explosions in the night ever since their knight in black had taken residence in the castle.
While he was fretting over unforeseen variables, his thigh jingled the fat pouch of coins dangling from his waist.
He lifted out a trio of marks, and sniffed the gold. His half dwarf blood shone through as he greedily extended the tip of his tongue to taste it.
He giggled to himself in glee, confirming once more that it was genuine gold. These tradesmen plied his pockets full of silver. But the noble gave him what he really wanted! Aye, the rich folk truly knew how to get to a dwarves heart.
Oh well, who was he to care what his clients spent their money on?
Profit was profit. One day, he would drown those miserly Longbeards in his fortune! Call him 'Star-Struck' or 'Cloud-Gazer' they did! Well! Just wait and see! Jerrick would one day call them poor!
Lilliana sighed to herself as she closed up the chapel, and made her way toward the castle.
Ever since the mass burial ceremony, Lilliana didn't have much to do during the day.
She prayed to Morr, practiced with her bow, and meditated within her tiny chapel.
However, he had come to interrupt her daily routine.
During the day, he would insist they stroll through the town. 'To better watch me, and see I do no wrong' He said.
These last few weeks, Lilliana was practically glued to his side. When she practiced her bow, he stood nearby, reading some book, and commenting on her form. When she ate breakfast, he was there with a cup of tea and some biscuits. When she left the village to pick herbs, he insisted on guarding her!
Slowly but surely, he had wormed his way into her daily life. With dawning horror, she came to realize that he was a part of her routine!
And worse yet, since he was a 'Champion of Morr' she couldn't publicly tell him off like all those other hunters oafs!
Now, every night, she would arrive near 8PM to feed that, that perverted beast!
That man walked around shirtless! He had no shame or modesty when near her! Who knew that the ever present armor covered up such a masculine figure!
Further yet, when he fed, he didn't only go for her neck.
Lilliana pursed her lips. At first, he only went for the neck. Then he began to branch out. Shoulder bites, arm bites, her thighs…he didn't have too many places left where he hadn't bit into.
Each little bite of his didn't hurt. In fact, Lilliana was beginning to question her sanity. The bites felt…good! Like an embrace from someone trusted, someone she knew would never harm her. And the tiny lock afterward each time! Oh, it gave her goosebumps and a little ticklish! She instinctively slapped him the first time from how ticklish his tongue was!
But! He had grown more bold in his experiments! The beast just last night had gone for her buttocks! He had rubbed his cheek against her backside, and remarked upon the fragrant smell…didn't he know h-how filthy that was!
She dreaded where his exploration would take him next. Her heart fluttered in pent up anxiety, and she clenched and unbleached her fists while she strode ever closer to the castle. Lilliana didn't know whether to be furious or embarrassed with how things had developed.
Oh Morr, how was she supposed to feel!?
Lilliana's face flushed crimson. Her pale features began to resemble something akin to a raspberry. Whether it was in rage, embarrassment or a combination of both was undetermined.
Lilliana was broken from her fugue when her elvish ears picked up some whispered gossip.
"There she goes to Sir Mark's again."
"Every night she attends to him. Wish I got a piece of what she's getting"
"Sir Mark is a true dark knight. So handsome. I saw him stare off into the distance once. He must be thinking about how to protect the town. Oh, he's so brave."
"Did you see the way he trounced that upjumped State Trooper?"
"Oh, how pathetic. And his men kept talking up the way he slew a minotaur all by himself!"
"If only Sir Mark didn't waste his time on Lilliana. Ah, she's pretty, but one woman isn't enough for a stallion like that. Rhya says that love should be free. That bitch should learn to share!"
Lilliana paused in her footsteps. She turned back, and took a quick glimpse at the pair of women bad mouthing her. Hmph, they wanted to share? With their looks? Lilliana snorted. As if anyone could compete with her.
Lilliana rolled her eyes in derision, and renewed her stroll toward the castle. Confidence entered her steps. Whatever Sir Mark had in store for her tonight, she wouldn't balk or cower! After all, she did all this in defense of the village! Without her holding back the beast, it would be bloodshed and anarchy!
Once inside the keep, Lilliana walked down familiar corridors. Where once they had been empty of any decoration, they were now festooned with tables.
She frowned at the poor decorations. With all the clutter, there was barely enough room to walk down the corridor. She would have to let him know about how terrible his aesthetic sense was.
When she finally made it through the maze of tables, Lilliana heard a small boom, following which a small cloud of black smoke wafted out of the Lord's chambers.
"Damnit!" She heard the follow up muttered cursing.
Walking into the pungent smelling room, Lilliana took in his shirtless form before quickly averting her gaze.
Her eyes fell upon the small pink crystals stacked in a small chest.
Through her attunement to her Lord, she could hear tiny cries of fear coming from the crystals.
Her lips thinned, but she did her best to ignore them. 'They were souls destined for The Enemy after all. So what if they should face permanent oblivion?' Lilliana said to herself in an attempt at comfort.
"Ah, you're here Little One."
Lilliana frowned.
"Haha." He laughed, and flicked her nose with the tip of his index finger.
She reached a hand up to slap his hand away, but only just missed.
"Almost got me this time." He mocked with a wide smile.
"Wasting more tables?" Lilliana changed the subject knowing it would irk him.
His gleeful smile turned to one of bitterness.
Lilliana didn't show it on her face, but she took his defeat as her victory. His pain brought joy to her heart. 'Shows him for calling me Little One! Who told him he could touch my nose!' She huffed.
"Almost had it. I just need to adjust the ratios of ground soul gems." He said, looking off lost into the void.
Lilliana stomped on his foot, bringing him back to his senses. How dare he ignore her?!
"You know, just because I'm a vampire, doesn't mean I don't feel pain." He said sarcastically.
Lilliana smirked like the cat that had caught the canary.
"Oh. I didn't realize you were so eager for tonight. Ready to begin? I have a special place I want to try tonight~"
He leaned in, and gripped her shoulder. Sir Mark leaned in to whisper in her ear "I want to taste your breasts."
Lilliana stumbled backward, but was caught in his embrace.
"That's…" She trailed off at a loss.
"I didn't hear a no! Besides, I'm the evil monstrous creature of the night. If you don't sacrifice yourself, I'll be set upon the rest of the town. Could you really do that to them?" He leaned in close once more. Chocolate brown met piercing pink as they stared each other down.
"You bully." She weakly slapped him on the chest.
"Thank you Little One." He said with sincerity. He then lifted her dress, revealing it all. He breasts jiggled with the motion, and her long silver-white hair flowed over her face, hiding her crimson cheeks.
She closed her eyes, too embarrassed to look.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of Little One." He purred in her ear.
He lapped at one of her nipples with his tongue, an electric jolt of ticklishness coursed through her body in response. She subconsciously arched her back, and scratched him across the cheek. Her nails scratched across his cheek, drawing blood.
"Kinky." He all but growled.
Lilliana snapped her eyes open to apologize, but when she did, he saw him wink at her, and then plunge his fangs into her left breast.
"Ohhh." She moaned at the sudden bliss.
He held on for a good fifteen seconds. During that time, Lilliana felt as if she had no worries. The safety of Esk, the souls dedicated to her Lord, they all became fleeting thoughts in this one moment. She was in the arms of a cloud, safe from falling, safe from fear.
Finished up, he gave her a little lick, sending another jolt through her body.
Lilliana gasped in joy. However, something felt off. Hey, wasn't that too short?! He usually held it for a little longer!
"Time for round two!" He grinned, and stuck his tongue out at her stunned face before going down on her other breast.
"SIR MARK YOU BULLY!"
Starhoof sat back on his throne made of swords, skulls and leaves in comfort. One hand fondled a human woman's breast, the other held a massive jug of wine.
As the leader of the Starhoof Clan, he had taken over his own little section of the forest. Food, women and slaves were aplenty. He and his lived good lives.
"Hn." He grunted, releasing his seed into a fiery redheads mouth.
He tilted his chin to the side in amusement. Her choked coughs as he shoved his girth ever deeper coupled with her desperate sucking made him laugh uproariously. If she let even a drop touch the ground, she knew her fate.
It was in his moment of fascination that he heard the sound of metal strike metal. He suddenly stood up, cockslapping the woman beneath him in his hurried state.
He raised his jug of wine to swing at the intruder, a small pissant barely coming up to his chest.
Wielding a blood soaked blade, the smaller beastman cut through the wine jar. He sliced up Starhoofs arm, and into his neck.
Blood flowed endlessly from the neck into the blade, mummifying Starhoof's corpse.
"Khorne has told me you have grown fat. That you have grown soft! Hear me, and know that you serve Sarith Crimson-Coat! The time for the tribes to unite is now! A new Wild Hunt is upon us!"
AN: So maybe the characters are a bit one dimensional, but I hope this world starts to feel a little lived in with this alt POV chapter.
It may look weird, but from Lilliana's POV, she will only be thinking of Mark as "Him, he, or Sir Mark" for now until their relationship meter rises. Which shouldn't take to long, but I wanted to have some actual development before jumping into the hanky panky.
The Drakwald Patrol is the primary armed force of Hochland's Elector Count, and is composed of many regiments. As the smallest province, Hochland can field something like 11,000-16,000 professional soldiers at once. So about 22-32 regiments of 500~ responsible for keeping an area about the size of Switzerland safe.