Disclaimer: Warhammer Fantasy and Goblin Slayer are properties of Games Workshop and Kumo Kagyu respectively. I own nothing here except for the OC s I have created.
Warning! This story may contain graphing sexual content and the use of strong language. Reader discretion is advised.
Tools of the Trade - Part II
The night before. . .
With her back pressed against the wall, she let out a soft gasp as rough and calloused hands began attacking her breasts, roughly kneading and squeezing her ample mounds. It brought a small mix of both pleasure and pain, and she could not help but let out a small moan as a result. Her luscious lips began to part, with words of protest just at the tip of her tongue. Only to be silenced by him with a deep and passionate kiss.
Unable to form words due to her lips being ravished and his tongue trying to force its way into her mouth, she tried to push him away instead, hoping to break the kiss and put an end to this attempt at coupling. But try as she might, her meager strength was simply not enough to counter his, and her resistance only spurred his lust further as he plundered her mouth with greater ferocity, while his hands frantically tore at the strings of her bodice.
All the while the obvious signs of his arousal kept rubbing against her. And to her continued disappointment, the annoying tool poking at her navel felt rather underwhelming. Would she even be satisfied by something like that?
He broke the kiss after an excruciatingly long moment, his breath somewhat labored. Then he brought his lips close to her ear and whispered. "By the Gods, you taste so ficken good!"
The compliment, while full of desire and very much heartfelt, was not appreciated. It only made her eyes roll in contempt. And whatever pleasure she might have derived from that crude praise was quickly clouded by the stench carried by his breath, which consisted of roasted venison with onions and strong ale. The brief sight of his yellowed teeth also did not help to endear her to him. Instead of making her swoon, he only made her want to retch.
But of course, he remained uncaring towards her feelings as he resumed his amorous ministrations. By raining sloppy kisses upon her neck, licking her delicate flesh and breathing in her sweet scent. It served to make her groan, annoyed by his laughable attempts at foreplay. Sadly, he apparently mistook the sound she just made as a sign of approval, and so he continued to ravish her flesh with dire need.
"Arrete, s'il vous plaît. We shouldn t be doing this." She pleaded to him as she tried to push him away once more but with more force. He simply shook her hands off and growled at her, undeterred.
"Just stay still and take it like a good Bretonnian wench. I know you want this just as much as I."
He finally managed to free her lovely treasures from the tight confines of her bodice and exposed them to the cold night air. Wasting no more time, he plunged face first into her chest and used his mouth to lavish her soft and ample bosom with hungry attention. And despite her earlier protests, she could not help but moan out in pleasure. A dampness beginning to form upon her undergarments as her own desires were finally inflamed, begging for satisfaction.
She refused to openly admit it, but he spoke the truth. She did want this. And she wanted it very, very much.
At a chilly night like this, where she and him were all alone just outside the village, with little chance of anyone interrupting them as everyone else began to prepare for some much needed rest, it was the perfect chance for Giselle to relieve herself of her own needs and pent up frustrations, which had grown exponentially during the last few days. She knew it would be much easier for her to let this continue and allow herself to be taken.
Simply do away with whatever troublesome rules of morality and propriety, cast away any thoughts towards her own virtue and honor, and allow herself to be fucked by this man like a bitch in heat. Feel his rough hands grasping at her sensitive bosom as she rode him like some wanton whore, until he finally spent himself within her. Then force him to thrust deeply into her again and give her more.
And more.
And more!
Until there was truly nothing left for him to give. It would be so glorious, so fulfilling! So, liberating!
After all, it had been practically decades since she last felt a proper man inside her. And even longer since she was last brought into that indescribable peak of utter bliss. She needed that relief. Oh, by the Lady, how she needed it so! And so, this was her chance to finally slake her own lust. A way to reward herself for being such a good girl all these years.
But there were just two small problems about this whole affair.
The first, was that his rather clumsy and pathetic attempt at lovemaking, while possibly very enjoyable in the end, was being done without her express consent. If there was one thing Giselle truly hated, it was being forced to do something she has not agreed to. Rape being a perfect example.
And the second but most important one of all, is that the man who was trying to have his way with her without her consent, while not at all hard on the eyes and a possibly worthwhile bed partner, was still the wrong man. And if there was one other thing anyone ought to know about Giselle, is that she had already vowed to give herself to her chevalier.
And that was not Erik Wolfsangle of Hergig. Not even by a mile.
"Erik, you have to stop. Aussitot!" This time she all but barked at him, her anger growing. And with it, the air around her slowly began to hum and the earth started to shake.
Unsurprisingly enough, he did not comply with her wishes nor was he aware of the small changes happening around him. He simply continued to suck at her breast like a man dying of thirst and fondling her other breast with his one hand. While his other hand lifted her skirts, and then tried to slip his fingers into the tight and wet confines of her womanly channel.
He would not go any further.
"I said stop it already you smelly salaud!" She hissed at him, the venom within her voice palpable.
With all her might, she finally managed to shove him a step back. And then she delivered a hard slap to his face, which sent him reeling backwards. The look of pure shock he soon wore was almost comical, not expecting to be hit that hard, and by a woman no less. That should teach him a lesson in respect, and how not to handle a lady.
"Tu imbecile! Do not mistake me for a common putain! If you wish to wet your bitte then best you go to Altdorf instead!" Was her rather harsh and stern reprimand, a stark contrast to her usual playful mood.
But this didn't sit too well for the young hunter however as a look of absolute outrage marred his rugged face. With a growl, he stepped forth and was about to go on a vicious, alcohol-fueled tirade on the fair Bretonnian. With the intent of landing a harsh blow of his own upon her, before finishing what he had started.
"Why you pretentious, common back-alley, little b-!"
"Aller dormir." She spoke the simple phrase in a hush voice, and her eyes glowed with a faint emerald light for the briefest of moments.
Whatever else he had planned to say or do did not come to fruition, for Erik was soon falling to the soft grassy earth like a felled tree. His back hit the ground with a dull thud, eyes growing very heavy as the unbearable need for sleep soon washed over him. He tried his best to fight the powerful urge, exerting every effort just to keep his eyes open and raise his head. But whatever mysterious force responsible for this sudden change proved too much for the young hunter to handle, as his head finally fell back to the ground again.
Loud snoring came next, almost comparable to a Steam Tank engine in terms of volume. The surest sign that Erik was all but dead to the world.
Giselle glared at his sleeping form with a mixture of contempt, anger, and no small amount of sexual frustration. Now that he was knocked out cold, she was left with a burning need within her cunt that still demanded relief. And the only one who could truly satisfy her maddening thirst was currently having dinner over at the Stahlhart household, and doubtless his company was being fully enjoyed by Tanya and Anna. While her poor self was left with this smelly drunk who had the romantic skills of a Troll. And with an attitude just as foul. A choice so unappealing deserved only to be refused.
And no, she was not going to seek out some other dirty Sigmarite fanatic to take to her bed, just to give some measure of satisfaction to her painful womanly needs. She may be of humble birth and could be rather adventurous at times, but she still had standards. Not to mention that the shame from such a coupling would remain with her for years to come.
"I guess its just me and by fingers again for tonight." The fair maid grumbled under her breath, utterly dejected by how seemingly unfair her circumstances were.
Deny herself the chance for a few meager scraps now, so that she may enjoy the whole feast later. That was the trial she needed to pass and pass she will. For such a feast he truly was. Just the mere thought of him was enough to make her mouth water, and it was making her quite impatient and even more frustrated. But she knew she had to wait and bide her time, because the time will come when she and him would finally be together. It was hard, maintaining the discipline required to deny her baser instincts, but such was the sacrifice needed to remain chaste for her silvery-haired chevalier.
She began to fix her disheveled state, wearing a rather petulant frown upon her pretty face while she kept glaring at Erik s unconscious form. She contemplated what else she could do to this lowly swine. And to think he had the gall to try and have a quick tryst with her, while still claiming to be the only man worthy of her dear friend Tanya's hand? And he wondered why Tanya still would not love him despite all his efforts.
He needed to be punished for these transgressions. A simple slap to the face and a minor sleeping spell would not do. She considered placing a curse upon him, turn him into frog for a full day or two. It would be quite hilarious she thought, and an undoubtedly humbling experience for someone who had a rather bloated ego.
But she decided against it, for it might prove just too much for a simple mortal like him to handle. Not to mention he might fall prey to some other animal while he was at that state, or some of the children might capture him and cook him alive, and that would not do at all. He wanted him humbled, not dead.
"Hmm... What to do?" She said aloud as she adopted a simple thinking pose, idly tapping her dainty finger upon her chin as she thought hard for a good long moment. And then as if a candle had just been lit up above her head, she finally exclaimed.
"Aha! I got it!" A triumphant smile upon her lips as a small flash of inspiration finally struck her.
She first looked about her surroundings, straining both her normal and mystical senses to see if there were anyone else watching nearby. When she was certain that nobody was spying on her, she turned her attention back to Erik.
With a casual swish and flick of her hand and a small exertion of her will, she whispered. "Monter."
And the sleeping hunter began to rise off the ground until he was floating just a few feet off the earth.
With that done, Giselle immediately went off towards the direction of one of the nearby farms, just on the northern outskirts of the village. But instead of simply walking all the way there, Giselle opted to make her short trip that much easier, by levitating herself off the earth as well. And just glide gracefully towards her destination. With Erik's sleeping form trailing just behind her.
Of course, she still made sure to cast a simple glamour around them, an illusion that would fool all but the sharpest of minds, to better hide them from any unwanted attention. For it was during nights such as this when the militia were most vigilant, and the last thing she wanted was for everyone to find out who or what she truly was.
But it felt pleasant to be able to flex her mystical gifts every now then. The feeling of utter weightlessness combined with the wind blowing against her face, making her long and vibrant hair flutter behind her. The freedom from many of the trivial constraints that common people were burdened with every day of their rather short lives. It was all quite liberating for the young maid.
And yet such great powers also came with great responsibilities and sacred commitments. A strict lesson taught to Giselle during her time spent within the Otherworld. A lesson that she lives by every day of her life and takes very close to heart. Lest she fall to temptation and be consumed by the forces she wielded at her very fingertips.
Still, that did not mean that she could not serve her own personal brand of justice to right the wrongs being done around her. Especially to her person.
She finally reached her destination, stopping just outside the stockades of this small farm. On the other side of the thick wooden fence, was a large patch of muddied earth where a small herd of hogs were lying about, fast asleep. And a rather unpleasant aroma came wafting out of their little home and tickled the fair maid's nose.
With a wave of her hand, Giselle lifted Erik's still unconscious form up and over the tall fences and hovered his body just over the smelly mud pit. And then without ceremony, she dispelled the enchantments, and let Erik fall to the ground with a heavy splat. Leaving him about halfway buried in mud and pig droppings.
His sudden arrival had startled some of the hogs, and they started sniffing the sleeping hunter's form with their snouts out of curiosity. But seeing that there was nothing of interest upon him, the hogs simply went back to sleep. And one of them even decided to lay its head on top of him, seemingly using him as a sort of pillow.
Giselle had to use every ounce of her self-control to not burst out in raucous laughter, holding on to her sides as she snickered at the sight of her latest handiwork. She hoped old man Hirte and his wife would not mind having a new addition to their herd.
And with this, justice had been delivered and her honor was avenged. And she even managed to get a good laugh out of it. More than enough to make up for the lack of carnal satisfaction earlier. Oh, she knew there were probably a few moral grays and ethical concerns regarding her treatment of poor Erik. But she reminded herself that what she had done to him was much more lenient compared to what others of her kind would have had in store for him, had they been on the receiving end of his molestation.
"Now, time to get back to work." She thought aloud as she floated away, heading back towards the direction of the village. With the little distraction from the young hunter now over with, Giselle intended to finish the task she had been performing before she had been so rudely interrupted.
Now nearing the northern entrance of the village walls, Giselle ended her levitation and began to approach the gates on foot and made sure to be as quiet as possible. A couple of militiamen were standing guard just outside the entrance. But thanks to her glamour and the cover of darkness, they would not be able to notice her.
Passing by the tired and sleepy looking guards, Giselle walked over to the side until she stopped just several feet away from them. She then pulled out a small bottle and a tiny brush from her pocket. Uncorking the bottle, she dipped the brush into its liquid contents before taking it out and began painting on the surface of the wooden walls. With careful and steady strokes, she wrote a long series of characters upon the surface. Taking great care to ensure that each one was perfectly written, lest the enchantments she wished to weave end up failing.
Earlier she had been busy painting these characters upon different parts of the village walls and at the gates. For she planned to erect magical wards which would serve to bolster its defenses and help keep everyone safer.
The wards would be created by writing upon the walls a series of sacred prayers. And it would be written in the ancient and obscure language of the fey. And in order to effectively maintain the protective wards over the course of a very long time, as well as amplify its effects, she would not use ordinary ink or charcoal to write the mystical verses. Giselle would use her own blood instead.
For the blood of a blessed servant of the Lady was most holy and possessed great power. And no vile creature of the dark could stand in the presence of a place that had been sanctified by it. Not without having their strength sapped away, their malign powers rendered mute and their tainted souls slowly wither and burn.
One might ask, why is it that one such as Giselle would be willing to go through such lengths, just to help protect a single village. And a village belonging to The Empire no less? Why not simply weave a thick shroud of mist all around the village to hide it from prying eyes and call it done? Why even bleed herself just to protect these people?
Because she cared about them. And she did not want to see any more of them die.
Before the Greenskin attack days prior, there had been a total of two hundred and thirty-one innocent souls calling this village their home. After the attack, that number had been cut down to one hundred and sixty. So, a total of seventy-one people lost their lives during the attack, with about half that number of injured, many of which would be left crippled for the rest of their lives.
A more pragmatic and ruthless commander would call such casualties acceptable. But for Giselle, those seventy-one dead and thirty-one injured were too many. Much too many. Especially when she could have prevented it, or at the very least, severely limit those losses.
Oh, she did lend whatever aid she could, going so far as to fight alongside the men in the front lines. And all the while she used her powers to bless them in battle. Bestowing courage to wavering hearts, restoring vigor to tired limbs, and closing the wounds of those most injured, so they may return to battle.
But those paltry efforts had not been enough to win them the day. For in the end, victory was achieved through the strength, courage and cunning of the Goblin Slayer. And he had been truly heroic and glorious to behold.
Yet the people of this village thought differently. Instead of being hailed as their hero, they vilified him. Cursed him. Blamed him for the deaths of those they loved. Even now, as they prepare for bed, they pray for his swift departure. Or for the Heldenhammer to strike him down as vengeance for their dead, even though it was by his efforts that they had survived.
They hate him and curse him, her silvery-haired chevalier, for their loss. When in truth, it was because of her that they had lost so much. All because she had been too afraid to use her full powers to defend them. For fear of being discovered, for fear of losing her own life. Her cowardice, as well as her lack of foresight, had cost them so much. And the Slayer was being blamed in her stead.
She halted mid-stroke, as a wave of guilt and shame washed over her, threatening to bring forth tears from her eyes. But she forced it all back and kept on writing.
It was not right. It was unfair. And unjust. For him to take the blame for her own failures. And so, she would take all the proper steps to set things to rights. She could not change the past. But she could help prepare for the future, so that no more lives would be lost needlessly. And hopefully, atone for her sins.
After several long and painstaking moments, she was finally done. She took a moment to examine her handiwork.
Thou are not a Goddess who takes pleasure in evil. In thine sight, the wicked cannot dwell. In thine presence, the corrupt cannot stand. Thou destroy those who tell lies. Bloodthirsty and deceitful men, The Lady abhors. Let those with wickedness in their hearts be confounded. Let those with malice in their soul be judged.
And may the righteous and the honourable find succor. May they dwell within thine hallowed halls and feast upon thine table. And bask upon thine glory for all time.
A traditional prayer, spoken by Giselle whenever she wished to call upon her Goddess for her divine aid. It was one of five sacred prayers that she had written already, four of which was located here in different parts of the village, and one upon the walls of the Stahlhart household.
Already she could feel the changes all around her. The Winds were becoming steadier, calmer. The darkness of the night had become much less foreboding. The plants and trees becoming more vibrant as the land was slowly being restored to its previous richness and health. And the foul taint of Chaos that normally pervaded the very air was now much diminished, becoming barely noticeable even through her witchsight.
She cast a quick glance over to the militiamen. She could also see a change about them, their spirits growing stronger, their minds becoming clearer, and renewed vigor returning to their bodies. And there was no doubt that the rest of the villagers were experiencing similar results, as the corruption within these lands were no longer a heavy burden upon their very souls.
With these wards erected, everyone and everything within the immediate vicinity of the village and of the Stahlhart household would be protected. But such measures, while impressive, were still not enough. While her wards would help drive away Daemons and dark spirits, it would be little defense against more mundane foes.
Especially when another horde of them comes banging at their gates, while roaring the ugly word Waagh! at the top of their primitive lungs. Fortunately, her silvery-haired chevalier was here.
And tomorrow he would finally visit the village again to acquire the tools of his trade. Perhaps she and him could finally meet in private and engage in a most. . . productive exchange.
With a small smile of triumph upon her lips, she placed her bottle and brush back into her pocket. And then she weaved a simple charm upon her latest work to conceal it from troublesome eyes. With that done, she finally turned around and left, heading back into the village.
Present Day. . .
When he first saw the humble building of wood, brick and glass in front of him, with the small iron-wrought sign hanging by the front porch that said Mauser's Gunworks , he thought he may have made a slight error. For he found it rather hard to believe that such a simple and rather unassuming establishment, was the place where a particularly deadly weapon was being created and sold. As well as the explosive substance which is the source of its power.
The time has come for him to make some much needed improvements to his gear. Simple swords and blades would not be enough this time, for his enemies were much more numerous, and his allies were few. He needed more of an edge to even the odds. And guns, lots of guns, would even the odds between him and the numberless hordes he would soon destroy.
Just the thought of blasting a few holes into a Goblin Champion's thick skull almost made him giddy. Almost.
He dismounted from his horse and gently lead the beast to the nearby wooden fence, where he tied the reins securely yet making sure to leave enough slack for the beast's comfort. He took a moment to survey his surroundings once more, taking in the happenings within the village's main street. Or lack thereof.
Before he came here, there had been more people walking along this part of the village, but as soon as they caught sight of him, they immediately hurried into their homes and barred their doors and windows. Now the entire length of this street was mostly abandoned, with only a few militiamen standing close by and a small number of onlookers who were more curious than afraid. And of course, he was much aware of the many pairs of eyes that were peering through the windows of the nearby houses, staring at him with much wariness and fear. He could even hear a few faint whispers in the air, with none of the words spoken about him being particularly nice.
Once again, he simply did his best to ignore these annoyances and focused on the task at hand. Walking up to the front door, he turned the knob and pushed gently. As soon as he opened the door, the ringing of a small bell hanging behind the door was the first thing to greet him as he stepped into the Master Gunsmith's workshop. And what he saw made his eyes widen ever slightly, and his lips to quirk upwards.
The interior of the workshop was somewhat small and a bit cramped, yet properly cared for and maintained. The light coming from the glass windows and the number of lit oil lamps hanging by the walls allowed for much illumination. All the better for him to lay eyes upon the near countless number of firearms within.
Several racks arranged in orderly rows held dozens upon dozens of those long-barreled handguns. Shorter variants of those same handguns hung by the walls along with many pistols of differing designs. Large boxes filled with what he believed to be ammunition were stacked together in the corner, while a handgun of larger size and weight hung by the wall just above it. And then there were a few of those stranger looking firearms held within glass cases, the ones with multiple barrels. He wondered how much death those weapons could cause.
So many guns. So many of them to choose from, and he could only carry so much. Yet he wanted them all.
He remembered many years ago when he was still a young boy, of how his sister bought him a wooden toy sword and shield for his birthday. He had been so happy with the gifts and he played with them often, especially during the times he and Cow Girl would make pretend games, with him acting as a knight while she a princess, and how he would fight off imaginary monsters to defend her.
What he felt right now was rather similar to that, as a sudden rush of excitement and enthusiasm filled his chest. He felt like it was his birthday again, with these guns being the gifts. And how he relished the chance to play with these new toys and blow apart a Goblin head or two. Or a thousand. Or maybe even ten thousand. A new personal challenge he supposed.
"Had a good look, scum!?" A harsh voice sounded from behind him, and with it, his pleasant mood was ruined.
He could not suppress a small, tired sigh, before he looked over his shoulder. A pair of armed men stood by the door, both wearing simple commoners' garb and sporting unkempt beards upon their weather-worn faces. And the way they glared at him suspiciously with their handguns pointed at his back, was evidence enough that they were none too pleased with his presence inside this establishment.
"Yes." His simple reply as he calmly turned towards them, his gaze now roaming across their forms. Critical and calculating.
"Good. Now get the fick out of here!" The first militiaman shouted at him, jerking his handgun roughly to the side to emphasize his point. Face twisted into a furious scowl.
"We don t want no thieving mutant anywhere near the Master Gunsmith's wares!" His companion quickly added, every word dripping with disdain, and eyes staring at him with no small amount of disgust.
"I am no thief. I only wish to make a few purchases, then I shall leave soon after." Again, his simple yet straightforward reply, trying to be calming and reassuring. Unfortunately, diplomacy had never been his strongest skill.
"What are you deaf and dumb or something?!" The man shouted at him, the ugly scowl on his bearded face growing uglier. "Get your pasty arse out of here now!"
"We won't warn you again mutant!" His comrade quickly added, emphasizing his point by cocking back the hammer on his handgun.
His eyes narrowed slightly and strong limbs tensed, as his anger spiked once more. If his words would not be enough to dissuade these troublesome fools from their current course, then he would simply remove them. He would just have to avoid breaking too many bones. Lady Stahlhart might not look kindly at him for crippling her militiamen for life.
"Gentlemen. Enough." A voice soon sounded from behind him. Calm and even, yet full of steel.
"Keep away Master Mauser, sir. This man's too dangerous and we're not about to leave you alone with him." The militiaman argued back, handgun still firmly pointed at him.
"He's a thieving mutant is what he is!" His partner spat out in agreement, making his anger rise with each spoken word.
A thief was he? The only thing he would be stealing was this irksome idiot's weapon when he tears it out of his grasp. And beat him and his partner on the head with it.
A throaty chuckle sounded from behind him as the owner of this place spoke once again. "If he truly was a thief who wished to do me harm, then he wouldn't have been standing there gawking like a child in a candy store."
That little remark caught him slightly off guard. Was his earlier awe truly that obvious? He was slipping it seems, and that would not do. Another reason to have his trusty helmet back and soon.
"Now, its best you both be on your way. I still have business to attend."
But the two men were not entirely convinced and made to argue.
"But Master Mauser, sir! We can't-"
"I insist." And he immediately cut them off. His tone calm yet brooked no further protest.
The two men would have argued further, clearly unsatisfied with the matter. But they soon relented, finally lowering their weapons.
"Oh alright then. We'll leave him be." The first man conceded.
"But we'll be right outside should he start making trouble." And his partner quickly added.
And with it, the two men turned around and walked away. He watched them quietly as they cast one last suspicious glance towards him before they finally left.
Only when they were finally out of sight did he lower his guard, silently grateful for having avoided an otherwise violent altercation. He then turned his sights towards the one who assisted him.
He had already met the man days prior, but this was the first time he had the opportunity to truly study him. The elderly gentleman before him was surprisingly well-built and fit for a man his age. The clean, long-sleeved tunic and cotton trousers he wore closely hugged his muscled form. His bearing was strong and proud, as he stood nearly at level with him. All that, along with the prominent scar that ran down the side of his bearded face, made him a rather stern and imposing figure.
Pale bluish eyes with a hint of green calmly held his own stoic gaze as the aged gentleman spoke to him. "Pardon those two for their conduct. They are good and honest men. But life within the frontiers of the Empire has a way of turning most men hard. And suspicious of everything."
He did not say anything at first and simply mulled his words. He understood perfectly and he could even sympathize. But he could still do without any of the blatant hostility or the direct interferences to his quest. And hopefully, this man would not be difficult to handle like the previous one.
"And you? You do not share in their suspicions?" He probed, trying to gauge this man further.
A faint smile made it's way to the elderly man's lips. "Oh, I do. I simply prefer to remain quiet and observant, in the hopes that my suspicions remain unfounded."
He nodded at that. Pleased with what he just heard. "Then you are one of the few I have met thus far who has shown both wisdom and restraint."
The older man shrugged his shoulders at that. "I suppose growing up in the south, in the great city of Nuln, has a way of instilling in one a certain level of reason and decorum. Both of which are rather lacking up here in the north."
"I see." He nodded once more, satisfied.
The older man however soon shook his head while smiling ruefully. "Goodness, I seem to have forgotten my manners while I prattled on."
He then extended his hand towards him. "Andreas Mauser. Master Gunsmith."
He grasped the offered hand and gave it a firm shake. "Goblin Slayer. Adventurer."
Mauser nodded in acknowledgement before he released his hold. Bringing his hands together behind his back, he addressed him once more.
"So what brings you here, Herr Slayer?"
"Guns and gunpowder." His direct answer, while making sure to mask his enthusiasm.
A proud smile made its way to Mauser's face. "Then you have come to the right place. Here in Mauser's Gunworks, I offer a wide selection of firearms of the finest quality and workmanship, unmatched in the entire state of Ostermark."
"Is that so?" And that was quite the boast, enough to make his brow quirk upwards in interest.
Sensing his doubts, the Master Gunsmith coolly gestured towards the many racks and stand. "Feel free to examine my wares if you like. And I'll be sure to answer any questions you may have in mind."
And he did just that, going to one of the nearby racks where several handguns were displayed. He took one of the firearms and held it carefully in both hands.
"What can you tell me about this one?"
"That is the Mauser Model Twenty-four Ninety-five Handgun." The Master Gunsmith soon explained, all professional and confident. "Five and a half feet overall length, with a forty-five inch barrel. Equipped with a wrought-iron gunsight for proper aiming and a reliable flintlock firing mechanism that functions even during wet climes. Ammunition: seventy caliber with a one-hundred grain blackpowder charge."
He listened carefully to what was said while examining the weapon, committing every detail into memory. He placed the handgun back into the rack and turned to another weapon stand, where he took one of the firearms on display. The one he now held was very similar to the handgun he examined earlier, but somewhat shorter in length.
"And this one?"
"That one is the Mauser Pattern Twenty-four Ninety-six Long-rifle. Four and a half feet overall length, with a thirty-six inch barrel. Similar wrought-iron gunsights and flintlock firing mechanism as the handgun, but can be equipped with a special scope for long-range sniping. Ammunition: sixty-eight caliber with a ninety-five grain blackpowder charge."
He quietly nodded as he took a brief moment to digest that information. He finally looked back towards the Master Gunsmith and began his most important questions.
"Between the handgun and the long-rifle, which one has the farthest range?"
"Both weapons have similar enough range, of about four-hundred yards. In pleasant enough weather of course." Was the older man's straight answer, cool and confident still.
And that alone made his brows rise, surprised and very much impressed. That was easily double the reach of an Elven warbow. And nearly the same reach as some field artillery that he knew of. But the reach of a weapon, no matter how impressive, meant little if accuracy was suspect.
"And of these two guns, which one is more accurate?"
"Oh, that honor goes to the long-rifle of course. A skilled marksman can bring down a man at four-hundred yards with it. The handgun is also accurate, but only within a hundred yards. One can still hit something past that, yet the chances of success are slim."
He nodded at that in understanding, his mind nearly set on the matter and his choice clear. "And both weapons can pierce through armour, is that correct?"
"Armour is little barrier to these weapons, yes. Even Imperial Knights clad in Dwarf-made steel plate fear these weapons."
And that only served to confirm his earlier estimations. If he had these weapons in hand when he fought that Goblin Paladin many years back, doubtless that quest would have been over much sooner. So now it was time to enact his plan.
"Then by your words, the long-rifle is clearly the superior of the two. Since it possesses both reach and accuracy."
But the Master Gunsmith merely shrugged at that before adding in a rather off-hand manner. "I suppose it is. Depending on one's preference."
And that served to throw his mind off once more, making him frown in obvious confusion. "What do you mean?"
With the same level of patience and understanding as before, the Master Gunsmith began to explain, not unlike how a school headmaster would to his student.
"The rifling, which is the source of the long-rifle's superior accuracy at long ranges, is also its greatest weakness, which ultimately makes it inferior to the handgun at shorter range."
"The rifling?" He asked further, now very much interested.
"If you would take a moment to look inside the gun barrel." The older man instructed.
And that immediately gave him pause, unwilling to peer into the mouth of such a deadly device which could easily blow his head apart. The Master Gunsmith must have sensed his concern however, which made the man smile. Amused.
"Not to worry. All the weapons currently on display are unloaded, including the one you're holding. So it is perfectly safe."
Satisfied with that, he finally did as the man instructed and peered into the gun barrel. All he could see inside were spiraling grooves cut into the surface of the barrel.
"The spiraling grooves you see inside the bore is the rifling." The Master Gunsmith continued his explanation. "As the round passes through the barrel, it engages the rifling and starts to spin. Giving the round greater speed and stability. Allowing it to fly faster and straighter. And strike the intended target that much harder. Yet it also makes the weapon quite difficult to reload, since the shooter must ram down the next round through the bore and pass the rifling. A long and arduous process."
He could only nod quiety in understanding, having finally learned the secrets of this weapon's potency. And such a very simple thing it was, truly. No great sorcery or complicated enchantments involved. Only simple science and it's practical application. Born from Man's ingenuity and cunning.
There were limits and weaknesses to this deadly device, yes. Much like the sword and the bow, there were flaws in its design.
This long-rifle, for all its power and precision, could only unleash its potent load once or twice in a minute. The handgun, far easier to reload and could be shot many times more, was far too lacking in accuracy.
It was the entire process of reloading that weakened these weapons, of that he was certain. There must be a way to make it much easier and quicker. This was already made simple due to the ammunition being stored inside these so-called paper cartridges, with the powder properly measured beforehand.
So it left the rounds themselves. Shaped as a ball, they passed rather loosely inside a handgun's barrel. Or in the case of a long-rifle, fitted much too tightly, needing a mallet just to ram it down the bore.
Perhaps a change to their shape or form might help then? Could it be that simple, or was there more?
"So have you made you're choice, Herr Slayer?" The Master Gunsmith asked after a rather lengthy pause. His silence making him grow just a bit worried. "If you wish, there are other weapons in my inventory that might be more suitable to your needs."
Turning his gaze once more to the older man, he finally spoke again. "I shall purchase this long-rifle."
And with that, Mauser nodded in satisfaction. "A fine choice still. Which shall not fail you."
Thinking that would be the end of their dealings, he surprised the man by first going over to his front desk and depositing the long-rifle there, then immediately went over to one of the racks on the side where several pistols were on display. Mauser looked on with interest as he took eight of those pistols and carried them over to the desk, where he deposited them alongside the rifle.
Mauser nodded in acknowledgement still. "And eight Mauser Pattern Dueling Pistols. The mainstay of the Pistolkorps."
Thinking that would finally be the end of it, Mauser's surprise continued to mount as he watched him walk over to one of the nearby glass covered shelves. And pulled out one of his more expensive creations. A multi-barreled instrument of death.
He carried it over to the desk and placed it on the growing pile of firearms.
"And one Mauser Model Twenty-four Ninety-nine Repeater Handgun. Favoured weapon of the Outriders." The Master Gunsmith merely droned out this time, keeping his level best to maintain his composure.
And yet he still was not done as he walked over to another one of the stands and grabbed another firearm. It was one of his more specialized weapons, designed specifically for close-quarters combat.
He watched with growing discomfort as he casually brought the thick and heavy and rather beastly looking firearm over to desk, adding it to his ever growing hoard.
"One Double-barreled Scattergun, complete with detachable bayonet and bladed buttstock." The man said, resignation lacing his voice.
That was the latest of his creations and the only one of its kind. He had intended to sell that weapon to one of the Templars for a fine price, should they ever visit the village one of these days. But it would seem that he needed to change that particular plan.
Just when the Master Gunsmith began to fear that he may actually plan on emptying his entire workshop of all his guns, he watched him turn his stoic gaze towards the small stack of ammunition boxes sitting innocently by the corner. He walked over to the boxes and began picking them up and depositing them near the table one by one.
He then calmly turned back towards him and looked at him expectantly.
"And four boxes of ammunition. Of varying calibers." Mauser finally let out a sigh, silently grateful that he was done. For now.
So now it was time to name the price. And he would be making quite the profit today. "For your entire purchase, that shall be one-hundred and forty-seven Marks."
But once again, Mauser was in for a new round of surprises.
"I do not have enough coin." He immediately told the Master Gunsmith.
And the older man's face could not have soured much faster. Nor could he keep his irritation from lacing his voice.
"Then I refuse to give you these arms without just payment." The Master Gunsmith stated in no uncertain terms. His calm, gentlemanly facade now gone and replaced with a stern and stormy mask. "And do not seek to acquire my wares through credit. Only those who possess a guaranteed method of repayment may avail such a service. And you have no guarantees."
"Yet you will be paid in full, Master Mauser. Only not in the form of gold or treasure." He told the man, cool and cordial as ever.
"And what shall you pay me with then?" The Master Gunsmith asked pointedly. "What can you give me that is of equal value to gold?"
"An idea." Was his simple answer. And Mauser could not help but frown at that, visibly dumbfounded.
"An idea?" He asked him once more, making sure he heard the man correctly.
"Yes." He reaffirmed.
He swore he could almost see the gears within the older man's head suddenly grind to a halt as he stood there, staring blankly at him. And it was a good long moment before he finally received a reply from the man. And he just laughed.
"Ha! Ha ha ha ha!" The Master Gunsmith let loose a loud and hearty guffaw. Yet he simply stood there and patiently waited. Giving the man time to recover himself.
"Ha ha! Oh! . ." Mauser finally ceased his mirth after a while. A broad smile was now upon his face as he looked at him again. His amusement plain to see.
"So let me see if I got this correct. You wish to buy one long-rifle, eight pistols, one repeater handgun, one double-barreled scattergun and nearly a thousand rounds of ammunition. Yet you would pay me, not with proper Imperial currency, but an idea?"
"That is correct". He nodded.
Mauser shook his head, smiling rather contemptuously. "Then you better be sure its one bloody hell of an idea then, because I won't give away almost one-hundred and fifty Marks worth of quality firearms for nothing but air."
"It shall be worth the price of these weapons Master Mauser. Perhaps much more." He calmly answered in turn, undeterred.
"We shall see." The older man remarked as he folded his arms in front of his chest. "Go on then. Tell me about this idea of yours."
He nodded to him before he turned around and walked over to tge stack of ammunition boxes by the desk. He opened one of the boxes and took out a paper cartridge. Ripping off the top of the of the cartridge, he picked out the small lead ball inside before turning back to Mauser.
"My idea is quite simple." He began his own explanation as he calmly gestured towards the metallic sphere within his hand. "We create a different kind of ammunition for the long-rifle. Instead of shaping it like a round ball, we make it longer and more conical. And then we make a small hollow at the base of the this new 'round'."
"And what would this strange new round accomplish exactly." The Master Gunsmith interjected, sounding rather doubtful but was no less interested.
He continued his explanation, now getting to the best part of his idea. "This new round would pass loosely down a rifled barrel, making it as easy to reload as a handgun. But when it is fired, the ignited gunpowder would cause the hollowed base to expand, much like a skirt if you will. And these skirts would in turn make the round fit inside the barrel more tightly and thus engage the rifling, making it spin. This would allow the long-rifle to be fired at the same rate as the handgun, but still retaining its superior accuracy at long range."
He finally finished and waited patiently for the Master Gunsmith's thoughts on the matter. Silently hoping that he would see the usefulness of this new idea of his and agree to make a deal. It was unheard of yes and certainly untested. Even he did not know if it actually would work. But he had confidence that he would.
Unfortunately for him, things would not be as easy as he thought it would be.
The Master Gunsmith had simply stared at him for a good long moment, utterly quiet and calm. But when he finally spoke, his reply to his proposal was.
"Leave."
He did his best to mask his disappointment, though he still could not help but frown just the slightest bit.
"Master Mauser. I would have you reconsider."
But the older man simply shook his head at that, unmoved. "No, I won't. No deal shall be struck today I'm afraid."
He stayed silent after that. No longer seeing anymore reason for words. And so he did what the older man said, and quietly made for the exit. Disappointed. And saddened.
Perhaps he could have said something. Anything to make the man see things his way. But he didn't know how. Negotiating was never his strongest skill after all. It was during times like these that he wished his friends were here. They would have known what to say.
He knew his little plan would bear no fruit. but he still hoped that it would. It seems he would simply have to make do without the guns for now. But he will find a way to acquire those firearms. He just needed ro figure out another way how.
He was just about to reach for the door when the same voice called out to him once again.
"Slayer."
He quickly halted. Renewed hope blossoming within his chest. He turned around and looked at the Master Gunsmith.
"Yes?"
Still calm and stern as before, aged Master Gunsmith soon gave his directive. "After you leave, I want you to think on that idea of yours some more. And I want you to think on it most carefully."
He simply nodded in acknowledgement, waiting for more.
"Once you have done thinking about it, I want you to return here early tomorrow. Is that understood?"
Again, he nodded in agreement. " I understand. But may I ask why exactly?"
He already suspected the reason why, but it did not hurt to be sure. And a cool smile soon formed on the older man's lips as he said.
"Because you will be assisting me in putting that little idea of yours to the test. And should it work. If it works, then you and I shall have a deal."
This time he did not seek to mask his emotions, and allowed himself to smile a grateful smile as he bowed respectfully towards the Master Gunsmith.
"My thanks, Master Mauser."
The man merely nodded cordially to him in turn, his smile growing just the slightest bit. And so he finally turned around and left.
His next stop for the day was the Red Horse Inn. It was time to pay the Innkeeper a visit, as well as one particular maid. He already had a very good idea how such a meeting would go.
Reviews Replies:
Bwoodlord: Sorry for the very long wait. I hope this chapter more than makes up for it.
rc48177: Thanks! Here's another one for ya, hope you like it. Stay safe and stay healthy.
JrOfDirt1988: Ha ha! As much fun as it would be to write a genderbent Khorne, no, Khorne remains a man in this story. Although Slaanesh will definitely be a woman. 😉
zealos specter: I guess it kinda gets a bit overwhelming. I will be fixing that though, no worries. Hope you likebthis chapter a bit more than the others. 😊
zaeva: Hi! Welcome to my work and I hope you have been enjoying it so far.
sorry for taking so long to reply to you, but I will now answer all of your points aa best I can without giving out too many spoilers.
How did Goblin Slayer end up in Warhammer? It simply involved one apocalyptic battle and the timely intervention of a certain god. That's all I have to say about that.
Will he eventually do battle against the Greenskins with his own army? Yes, he will.
Will Goblin Slayer eventually be able to unite the races of Men, Elves Dwarfs and Lizardmen into one grand Alliance? Possibly. Is it likely? Not really.
Will he be corrupted by Chaos? You don't want to hear the answer to that.
LittleWhiteMouse: All I can say is that Goblin Slayer will eventually learn more about the Greenskins of this world, and what he will learn will both scare him and piss him off so much more.
And as for Grimgor, yes. You got it right. The baddez and 'ardest Ork is currently taking his vacation over at Red Eye Mountain. But once his vacation is over and he gets bored, Grimgor will eventually head over to Ostermark for a good scrap.
We all know what will happen next. 😉 But that's about 10 chapters away or so. Plenty of build up until then.
Moonlight Talon of the Night: sorry for making you wait this long. Here's the latest update. Enjoy!
Z.L.C Genesmith: Most likely answer is that the people of the Empire simply aren't aware themselves, so they can't inform GS. But Orcbolg will eventually discover this little part about the Gobbos though.
human dragon: Thanks for the good praise my man, and sorry for the long wait. Been really busy these past months. Hope you like this new chapter every bit as the previous one. No fighting just yet, but there was a bit of action on this one. 😉 But as for Grom the Paunch. I am yet undecided on whether I should include him in my story and have him eventually fight against GS, or not. By lore, Grom the Paunch is technically still MIA by the year 2500 IC, he is still absent. But who knows.
Fortitude: Yes, you would be correct. Goblin Slayer was referring to Cow Girl during his little inner monologue. But his little mysterious visitor shall remain a mystery for now, though I think younand the others already have a good idea who that might be.
As for his team, yes. GS's eventual team will mostly resemble his old team from his world, consisting of an Elf, a Dawi, a Lizardman and about one or two more Humans. You can already rightly guess as to what his team will eventually look like.
Austin: Yeah, sorrry for not being able to follow up on your proposed story buddy. Just couldn't get enough time to write it, not with how busy I've been lately.
But as for the many different factions in Warhammer, I would say that almost all of them could easily overwhelm and wipe out GS's homeworld, given how really powerful they all are. But then again, there might be a few characters in Goblin Slayer's world that could easily destroy them, even single-handedly. The Chosen Heroin and her party being one.
Of course, you won't see her in this story. She's not in it. or rather, she won't be involved. Its gonna be all ablut GS and how he would try to fight against the myriad of threats in the Old World.
Rook435: Ha ha, yeah. I admit your past review got me a bit overwhelmed but I will try to answer your questions as best I can without making it too long.
First off, I'm not sure yet if I can properly introduce Goblin Slayer to Eltharion or Grom the Paunch. Reason being that Eltharion is in Ulthuan and hasn't visited the Old World since his big fight against Grom nearly 70 years before the current date of this story, which I may add, starts roughly one year before Karl Franz got elected as Emperor. Plus, Grom is mostly considered missing at this point, so I don't know if he will eventually return to the Badlands. And by the End Times, he still didn't return. So an eventual face off between GS and our Big Boi Grom is unlikely as of now. But a chance meeting between GS and Eltharion might be possible. We'll see.
Anyway, thanks a lot for enjoying my story. I know, updates have been really, really slow lately, but I do try to make the wait worth it. You will continue to see GS interact more with the Warhammer World and see him continue to develop. And yes, I will make any potential romance within this story to be as properly developed over the course of a long time. I won't rush things, though you can expect a few sexy scene here in there though. 😉
Evowizard25: Sorry for not replying to your review last time, and I apologize also for the really long update. The new year has been quite crazy for me.
As for GS's magical helper, I think its obvious by now who that is. And I shall go right out and confirm that she will be the first official member of GS's party. You will see more of her on the next two chapters.
Hope you will still continue to read the story and support it.
TheOnionKnight22: Then feel free to cast your vote over at the polls. If the Dark Elf wins, then I shall make sure that he/she will not disappoint you and all the other Dark Elf fans out there.
Greavous123: That... looks like the setting for a really interesting fanfic my good sir. if I hadn't already decided that I would only use original Warhammer characters for GS's team, I might have gone with your idea instead. It sounds really nice.
Would actually make for a good spin-off story for this one though. I'll see what I can do about it. Though I might have to borrow a few of your ideas. If the High Elf wins in the poll, i might use your little story as her character background. 😉
ragriz: I assure you, I shall stay faithful to the iconic character that Kumo Kagyu created. I am not gonna suddenly give GS some special powers or a massive upgrade. I won't make him as ridiculously strong as Grimgor or allow him to wield the Sword of Khaine or even turn him into a mighty Grail Knight. Goblin Slayer shall remain a mortal human. A hyper-competent, stone-cold, badass of a human, but still mortal.
There will be some improvements to Goblin Slayer's weapons, armor and tactics and there might even be sone special upgrades to him personally, but that shall be really small and subtle, and shall be introduced over a long period of time. And even then, he still would be largely outmatched by all of the named Legendary Lords of Wargammer. At least, In a fair fight that is. Not that he would be fighting any of them all that much. Maybe have a chance encounter with a certain Von Carstein or a brief meeting with a particular memelord with a golden mask, or maybe meet a certain chungga from Lustria, but no actual fighting.
All the Greenskin Legendary Lords however, with the sole exception of Grom, will do battle with Goblin Slayer. Its simply inevitable.
And yes, I agree with you on not making GS the savior of the Warhammer world. Because no one person can save that world. The End Times have proven that even the Gods failed to save it. But if for some reason GS might be able to help prevent the coming apocalypse, then he certainly will not be doing it alone. He will have lots of help from many allies and from many different factions. How exactly he will go about enlisting those allies from said factions, remains to be seen.
As for Elves falling in love with GS. I have not decided yet if GS's Elf companion would fall in love with him or not. I do intend on properly fleshing out their relationship though and said Elf character will be integral in many of Goblin Slayer's quests. Will that eventually lead to them bumping uglies, I cannot say. 😆
Darkslayer7799: I'm glad to see you like how I made Goblin Slayer somewhat irreverent and a bit disrespectful towards the Gods. From everything I read abput him so far, he seems to be the kind of guy who acknowledges the existence of divine beings, but is not dependent or even subservient to them. He is after all, a completely independent piece on the board.
But like you said, I'm also pretty sure that when he finally learns more about Sigmar and what his title actually means, according to Warhammer canon that is, Goblin Slayer might start giving the patron god of Mankind a bit more honor and respect, and might seek to use that to his advantage. And as he continues his travels around the Old World and beyond, GS will also learn more about the many other gods and goddesses of this world. Especially the two gods of the Greenskins, Gork and Mork.
I think you and I know what GS would try to do once he discovers the existence of a 'Goblin God'. (snickers evilly)
As for Orcbolg's team. Yes, I agree with you. GS shall only be recruiting Warhammer natives to his cause and there won't be anymore canon GS characters coming in to help GS. Although said GS characters will be shown in this story later on, but they won't be in Orcbolg's new team.
Templarsith: Huh. I never actually though about it in that way. I guess you might have a point. Grimnir might actually see Goblin Slayer as a proper Slayer. But we will see how it will go. I do think that the other Dwarf Slayers will take issue to GS claiming to be a Slayer though. I look forwards to exploring that bit of interaction.
samuelalpha86: Yes, I am actually aware of their existence. I tried my best to find more about them but GW simply did not make enough lore about them.
GS will eventually encounter the Beastmen. But to add a Beastwoman to his team or maybe true mutant? I'll think about.
TheNotSoFantastique: Thank you for the compliment. I've always been an avid fantasy and sci-fi fan since I first started learning how to read and write. And Warhammer and Goblin Slayer are in my top 5 list of favorites. But since I couldn't find a decen fanfic of GS in the World of Warhammer, I decided to write my own. Glad to know you like the quality of my story. I try my best not to disappoint too much.
Guest: Nope. Still alive and kicking. Just been super duper busy during the past couple of months.
OldNovelHistory: Ha ha! Does it really look that way? I guess I overdid it when I was trying to make this crossover look as seamless as possible. 😆Thanks for the praise. I don't like doing things half-assed and I would be doing a disservice to the fans of both Goblin Slayer and Warhammer Fantasy if I did not make a story that's at least worth wasting time on. 😆
Nikola1488: Hope this update serves as proof that I have no plans on dropping this story. 😉
Guest: My day got rather crazy as well. Here's an update to tide you up.
Thanks for all of you who reviewed this story. All your thoughts and comments really help. And thanks for the continued support. Stay safe everyone.
John out.