Chapter 1. a beginning to the end.
The morning was announced by the various calls of birds outside, chittering and singing in the early light. Upon hearing this, Hans Bauman stirs from his slumber. His eyes open wearily as he sits himself up. The young man stretched his arms up, with various cracks sounding from his body. He opens the bedside window, which lets in what little sunlight the environment will allow, causing him to wince slightly from the light. As he stands from his bed to further stretch, he grabs his clothes for the day and makes his way to through his home.
As he makes his way down the hallway, he passes by several other rooms. Most empty bedrooms, and one room for storage of various goods and trinkets. On the walls are also several paintings. Some depicting the forest regions around him, others showing beautiful landscapes from far off lands. Such as the white stoned cities of the high elves. Or the geometric temples of lustria. All wonders sights compared to the drab area Hans finds himself in now. As he reaches the ground level of his home with creaking steps, he scans the area like he does every morning, looking for anything out of place.
The main floor of the house was one large room. The stairs he stands at are at the back left of the room. The back right area was the kitchen. It had various tables for preparing meals and setting dishes. Various hanging spices decorated the cooking area, along with a variety of blades mounted on the wall for quick access, if required. The pantry held most of the on-hand ingredients that the man used in his day-to-day diet. The kitchen also had several cabinets with the utensils needed for cooking. with pot, pans, and everything in between. It even had a small wood stove, used for baking goods if needed. He made his way to the kitchen and reached into the pantry and grabbed a small loaf of bread for breakfast.
He grabbed a random jar of jam from inside and made his way over to the dining area that was next to the door. Hans sat at the large dining table and enjoyed his breakfast. Once he started to eat the bread with the mystery jam, he was pleasantly surprised with the grape flavor from the jar. As he continued eating, his eyes slowly drifted around the room. The walls decorated with various memorabilia and items of interest, collected by his family over the years. On one part of the wall was mounted beast heads. One was of a large grey furred wolf that once harassed his family's property. The snarling expression was forever attached to the wall, decorated by various scars of past attacks on it.
next was the head of a large spider the size of a man, the orange and black patterns sticking out from the wall. It had an eye missing from where a black powder shot pierced and killed it. there were several shields with swords mounted on the wall with the banners matching their origin.
One had the colors of reikland splitting it down the middle with red and white. Another colored with the black and yellow of averland with a skull over top the sun. and lastly was the shield from Middenland, his home elector state. The blue shield marked with the crest of the white wolf. The dream of having a piece from every province long gone from this home. Hans would keep scanning the wall, but he had finished his food, and made his way outside after putting away the jam. He opens up the door and steps out onto the property.
The ground outside his front door was a large circular patch of grassless soil. This patch of soil had three buildings around it. one being the house Hans emerged from, the tool shed to the left where almost all of the young man's tools and items of maintenance are stored. And the third building to the right being his barn. Currently he only had a couple of dairy cows, a few chickens, and a couple of sheep. All of this land was surrounded in woodlands that created a somewhat solid canopy over the area.
To the right, past the barn was the river where he was going to bathe at. The river was roughly 30 feet wide and only a few feet deep. The deepest of the water only rising to the young man's lower stomach. Hans strips down and enters the river. He keeps his washing brief but thorough as he rubs himself down. he dunks his head to wetten his short brown hair as he scrubs his scalp.
He leaves the river to dry off and put on his new clothes, a pair of basic brown trousers and a basic white cloth shirt with a brown tunic over top it. once dressed and washed, Hans starts his day. He first tends to the animals, harvest the various commodities from them like milk, wool, and eggs. He then leaves them with their feed for the day.
Once done that he goes to the small patch of crops behind the shed and harvested whatever was ripe. Mostly ground plants like potatoes, carrots, onions, and cabbage. once done there, the young farmer checked the fence bordering his property for any breaks. Once done there he goes to his final stop, the cavern. Behind his house was small cave that was hard to see on the property if not already aware of it.
once inside he began harvesting some of the many fungi in there to sell to the alchemist in town. He would ask the potion maker which ones were safe to eat, so he could keep a few for dinner. Hans could never quite remember which ones were safe due to their similar appearances. Once done this, he gathers the goods he plans to sell and trade for into his horse drawn wagon. He hooks up the 2 black haired stallions to the wagon as he gets the last few crates loaded in. the goods inside were a variety of the different things he harvested from the land of his.
As he hops into the driver's seat and grabs the rains, he gives them a slight jerk so that they may start the journey to the town several miles away. "Let's go you two. The quicker we get there, the quicker I can treat you to some fresh apples." Hans said with mirth. As the horses made their way to the town for his weekly outing, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of getting away from the solitude of his own home.
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Her eyes slowly crept open as her internal clock forced her to wake up. The dreary bestigor shakes herself from her recent slumber and rises to her hooves. As she raises to her full height of 6 foot and 10 inches, she takes a moment to stretch her aching muscles. After a full day's march and having to set up her tent alone she was left fairly exhausted. Nathiqe (pronounced na theek) sharp horns began to dawn her armor for the day. First was her salvaged chest piece made from bits and scraps of other armor sets of slain warriors from past battles. Some from other beast men, slain humans, and even a few scraps from the bodies of murdered green skins.
Next is the metal face covering that most beasts of her rank wear. It was a fairly flat piece of metal that fit like a mask to protect her face and muzzle. Next was the spiked pauldrons on her arms. The last pieces of metal was the greaves to cover her legs. Once done, she goes to grab her favorite axe from the wall. A large but simple two-handed battle axe that has served her well for as long as she has had it. she thought of naming it but was worried it would ultimately break at some point, leaving her sadder than necessary at the loss of her gear. Along with the axe, a few other trinkets decorated her wall.
The feathered helmet of an empire captain she had slain, the shield of an orc war boss she had decapitated, and the eye of a forest dragon that was brought down during an incursion against the wood elves. It had already partially rotted, but Nathiqe was keeping for as long as possible.
the last item on the list to grab is a small leather pouch she attaches to her hip with a few things she will need. once she is geared up, she leaves her tent and adjusts to the chaotic routine of the war herd camp. The horde's camp was currently set up inside a large valley. It was decided that this would be a good place to set up due to its large space and good vantage point of their surroundings.
Gors of all kinds rushing around trying get what needed to be done finished in the camp. Whether that's getting their own supplies ready or getting the gear needed for a raid, it was always a madhouse trying to get it all done. She navigated the sea of smaller Gors as she trekked to her destination. All around were various tents for living, crafting, storage, and some for military planning. The tents were mixed messes of red and brown patchwork with just enough integrity to stay standing in most cases.
as she continues forward, a distracted ungor runs right into her front, sending the ungor to the ground and shaking her slightly. whatever the gor held was sent skidding away. she looks down and offers a hand to the fallen beast. The ungor gets to his feet and starts to yell at her in rage from the incident. The ungor is much smaller than herself and has light grey fur as apposed to her dirty blonde fur. His horns only a couple inches in contrast to her 9-inch horns. She pulls her hand back, clearly seeing that he doesn't need help. Nathiqe simply starts her walk again, content with letting the ungor blabber on.
Enraged at being ignored, the ungor goes in to strike Nathiqe from behind. Once the punch lands however, Nathiqe turns to the stout beast and delivers a devastating kick. This sends the ungor many feet back with the loud cracking of whatever bones where in his chest. The ungor was left breathing heavily after the crash, struggling to move at all from the ground. Meanwhile Nathiqe barely registered his punch. She walks over to the ungor, a frustrated look in her eye.
Before the ungor has any time to swear at her or beg for mercy she raises her hoof. With a swift motion she sends it down into the challenger's head, crushing it with a messy burst of blood and bone across the ground. This commotion only attracted the attention of a few as violence like this was common amongst this warband. "Stupid animal." she mutters to herself quietly.
Once she shakes off the grey matter from her hooves, she continues towards her destination of the blacksmiths tent. While walking, she takes note of the darkening skies around her. it looked oddly tranquil with the grey sheet over the camp. Compared to the contrast of brown and red colors making up the camp. As Nathiqe continues through the camp, she spots another dispute that seemed similar to her own.
It was a large brown furred bestigor challenging a Minotaur to a duel. The Minotaur stood roughly double the height of the bestigor, with more black hair on its body and a missing horn. Since the blacksmith she is looking for isn't very far ahead, she'll take a moment and watch the spectacle.
The Minotaur rushes the bestigor with its head lowered, clearly aiming to impale him. The bestigor lines up his axe to try and hit the charging foe's head as he gets close. The bestigor is confident in his ability to stop the larger opponent before they can reach him. At the deciding moment the bestigor swings, but the Minotaur lowers his head to barely dodge the hit. This mistake would be the bestigor's last slip up as he is stabbed by the Minotaur's horn and raised into the air.
With the impaled beast screaming in pain and the Minotaur roaring in rage, the battle has been decided. The Minotaur throws the challenger to the ground and starts to swing down wildly with his axe. The display is a brutal one as the screams die down with every swing. Every strike to the loser's body is followed by a splash of red covering the area. The crowd of beastmen cheer at the grisly display in front of them.
Realizing it is over, Nathiqe makes her way over to the tent she came here for. While the fight was fun to watch, the aftermath interested her little. She arrives at the black stained tent of the smith. The color being the only indicator of what is inside. Inside were makeshift tables and tools of all kinds. At the corner was the gor running this tent. Currently he was pulling something from the hastily assembled forge. A strip of metal that he quickly submerged in liquid to cool it off.
She announces herself with a loud grunt, the smith turning over to see who it is. His gaze is unimpressed, and he is quick to get this over with. "What do you want?" he says in black speech. The gor smith was still smaller than Nathiqe, but not as small as an ungor. His fur was blackened from his time working in the smoke of the forge. His horns had several pieces of metal burnt on them to keep them standing. Not wanting to be here any longer than necessary, she put her axe on one of the tables.
After that, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small gem, glowing with energy. It was a part of a dwarven runesmiths hammer. She wanted to get it attached to her axe. She didn't know for sure whether it would actually improve its power, or just work as a good luck charm. Either way, she wanted it on there before she made the last move of her plan. The smith for the most part looked perplexed, unsure of how to get it on there properly with the desired effect. He then snaps his fingers and heads to the opposite corner of the tent.
There stood a cage with a young man from the empire inside. he was skinny and filthy from his time locked in the cell. His greasy black hair had grown long from the time he was left in here. Quickly the smith yells something to him, before opening the cage and dragging him over to the table. Nathiqe heard rumors about a smith aided by a human, but she didn't think it would be here. The smith gor gestures to the axe and ruin, expecting the young man to know what to do.
After a few moments of silence, the man responds. "Go to hell you rotten smelling pig!" the smith, seeming ready for the insult instead of him complying, grips the young man's head in a pair of thick steel tongs and begins to squeeze. The young man struggles momentarily before giving in. "fine, fine, just let go!" the smith does so quickly, implying that this happens regularly. With that, the young man acts quickly to avoid further consequences.
Quickly he makes room in the handle for the ruin and begins to hammer it in. He was given a fancy looking hammer of similar dwarven descent. It had other dwarf ruins in it and glowed with energy whenever he swung down. the light from the hammer smashes lit the tent up with sparks as he worked. With one final slam down, it was done. The axe had a radiant glow to it now, that lit up part of the tent. With the task finished, the gor ushered the young man back to his cage.
With the task done, Nathiqe grabs her axe and leaves the payment on the same workbench. A bag of various coins and shiny trinkets. Before Nathiqe leaves the tent, she walks over to the cage while fishing something out from her pack. The young smith is cautious of the bestigor and tries to back up into what little space the cell had.
She stuck her hand through with a piece of dried meat she had kept in her bag, just in case she needed it. he seemed hesitant, but more so confused to see what looked like a kind gesture in this place. "Food. Payment for axe. Please take." She said in choppy reikspiel, so he could understand. The man's eyes shot open upon understanding her. "I thought you already paid that dammed smith?"
she simply scoffs. "He did nothing. You did the work. You get payment too." The man eyes the meat being offered, and in an instant, he swipes it and scoffs it down. in moments its gone and the man sighs in satisfaction. "Thank you, by sigmar you are a blessing." She gives him a nod before rising back to standing height. "Good luck to you."
before the man can respond with anything else, she makes her way out of the tent. once out of the tent, Nathiqe takes a deep breath. "Almost time." And with that, she set off back towards her tent.