Expedition 1.4
Beyond a short but pleasant goodbye with Adelheid, Andraste had no one to wish farewell to on the eve of the expedition. Those she was closest with were either deployed in other Stormhosts, or accompanying her on said expedition. Thus, she found herself alone in her own quarters packing for the journey to come. Though, to be honest, a stormcast had precious few possessions to prepare for any kind of journey. Her quarters, much of her clothing, and even the tomes she enjoyed reading, those would be given to the next newest stormcast to be forged, or returned to the Grand Library. All things that were hers belonged to the stormcast as a whole; even her body and soul belonged to Sigmar.
The only thing that could truly be considered Andraste's, was her greatsword. It sat now on its shrine, Andraste's reflection staring back at her from its steely edge. Her unfamiliar face was creased with lines of anxiety only matched by the apprehension that held her heart in a death grip. Everything she knew, which to be perfectly fair was very little, was about to change in the coming days.
The fact that she would find truth to the questions she had asked herself for so long, excited and scared her. On the one hand, she would finally know who she was before Sigmar had found her. But on the other, what if she found out the truth and didn't like it? There was of course the possibility that she had done terrible things, maybe even been a servant to the Ruinous Powers themselves. Though in truth, that possibility hardly phased her; Sigmar had saved and redeemed those that had fallen in the past, which was hardly anything to be ashamed of. Atoned for certainly, but never ashamed of. No, the greater fear was what if who was hadn't mattered at all?
It was a strange thought, when she dwelled on it. After all, what could matter more than standing between civilization and obliteration by the Ruinous Powers? But there was more to life than war and battle; Sigmar himself had admitted that to her. So, what if the only defining moment of Andraste's mortal life, the only thing of true value she had accomplished, was dying?
A heroic death was worthy of praise certainly, but if it was all that defined her first life…
Andraste shook her head, she didn't need to fall into such a downward spiral of thinking. Yes she could turn over the idea of what had been until the universe itself sputtered and died, but it would give no answers. All it would serve to do is make her as anxious as a child, and she was beyond that. She was Stormcast, she had to be better than that.
"Focus not on the then," she murmured to herself, "Nor the now. Focus on what is to come."
Her eyes flickered back to her greatsword. Already she had seen one vision of what might come to pass on Earth. Perhaps if she were to return to her meditations, she would receive another. An attempt to gleam the future wouldn't hurt, at the very least.
Andraste knelt on her knees before her sword once more, and met her reflection gaze. The face that was hers but did not belong to her met it with unyielding iron. She took in one deep breath after another, slowing her heart and calming her nerves. Her eyes slid closed, and in her mind's eye she pictured herself in front of the blade, with focus on the celestium itself The innocuous realmstone gave no answers. Even as Andraste focused and the walls of reality seemed to fall away, no vision rose to fill the void she forged. She sat waiting for three hours, but as her efforts proved fruitless, her stray thoughts ate at her concentration until she gave up with a final sigh of resignation.
This was typical, her vision of the Leviathan was just a fluke compared to her usual attempts to commune with her greatsword. Andraste let out a breath and her eyes fluttered open, staring at her reflection once again. It offered no answers to her, only an ugly frustrated glare. Frustration ate at her and she stood up and turned her back on the blade. Her past was an unknown history, and her future stubbornly remained a mystery. Which meant her only option now was to live in the moment.
She let out a resigned sigh and resumed her preperations. "I suppose that the more things change, the more they stay the same."
-SF-
Had no one told Andraste where to go, she never would have found the Star-Gate on her own. It sat among its lesser cousins, the Thunder-Gates, nearly identical in all ways except for its immense size. Already the Thunder-Gates could transport dozens at a time, but the Star-Gate was large enough that it easily could have transported an entire Stormhost. But today, it only held a dozen or so Stormcast and one napping draconith.
The storms of Azyr raged eternal overhead, their power funneled into the gates via a series of complex apparati and enchanted mirrors. Within the structure itself, large brass concentric rings spun silent around the platform, each as wide across as a man was tall. They were silent, save for a hum that steadily grew louder as more power was funneled into the gate. It was, as all things were in Sigmaron, a wonder of magic and engineering.
Andraste stood at the entrance of the structure, helm in hand, staring back at Sigmaron in all its brilliant splendor. A strange sense of melancholy had gripped her since her goodbye with Adelheid, and she had been unable to shake it. She had wanted to talk with Vel about it before they departed, but the Incantor was embroiled in a quiet but fierce argument between Heron, himself, and Phara. On more than one occasion, one of them gestured in her direction, and Andraste had to resist the urge to let out a petulant sigh. It was, after all, unbecoming of a Stormcast.
The solitude was relaxing in its own way, letting her gather her thoughts and nerves for what was to come. Her only real companionship since her arrival were the Stormcast Annihilators standing guard at the entrance to the Star-Gate. They were dutiful, but far from exceptional conversationalists.
This was why Andraste felt relieved when she heard steps beside her and another stormcast strode up next to her. She was tall and lithe, with sharp eyes, an angular face, and blonde hair tied into a braid around her skull like a makeshift crown. A flower that shimmered with soft moonlight shone against her temple. On her shoulder, a Star-Eagle sat preening itself, not even deigning to spare Andraste a second look.
"Andraste, yes?" the stormcast asked.
"That is I, yes." she replied.
The stormast offered her gauntleted hand, "Gali, knight-venator. And this grumpy chicken on my shoulder is Aerani."
The star-eagle chirped something in response, and Gali shook her shoulder under it, making it squawk and flap its wings to steady itself. "You can take that tone with me, mister, but show respect to my brothers and sisters."
She turned back to Andraste and smiled, "Apologies, I have no idea where he gets such an attitude from."
Andraste took the offered hand and couldn't help but smile, "It's an honor to finally have a face to match the reputation. You have quite the legend you know."
Knight-Venator Gali Surgebreaker was renown for her skill with the bow. Among a group renowned for their skill, her legend stood out. Not necessarily for having the best aim, but for choosing the best targets. More than a few armies had been thrown into complete disarray by one well placed arrow from the Knight-Venator. If the legends were true, of course.
"All of it true, I assure you, except for the parts that make me look bad." she winked.
"Of course, as is expected." Andraste said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Gali shrugged, "I've been acquainting myself with everyone on the expedition. Barring our Lord-Arcanum and Imperious, I've never worked with anyone else on the expedition in any real capacity, though I am well aware of the tales of their deeds."
"Unfortunately, I have nothing to add to those tales." Andraste admitted, unable to keep the note of bitterness out of her voice. "So I apologize if I seem out of place in our expedition."
She glanced at the argument still unfolding between Phara and Heron. The Lord-Arcanum was now brandishing her staff angrily at the Lord-Commander, her eyes alight with the crackling lightning of Azyr. Andraste winced, "Assuming I am still going on the expedition, that is."
"Don't worry about that." Gali waved a hand at the scene. "Phara loves her perfect plans, but even she understands that no plan survives the reality of war. She'll adapt and get over it… eventually."
"That's encouraging." Andraste said dryly.
She turned her gaze back to Sigmaron, content to take in its sights. Gali followed her gaze, and a nostalgic smile graced her lips.
"You know, all these years later, I never quite get tired of seeing it." she whispered. "There were a lot of amazing sights back home, but… nothing really compares to the home city of a god."
Andraste turned back to Gali, open curiosity painted on her face, "You have memories of your life before, of Earth?"
Gali nodded, "I know that those outside the command echelon… struggle, with remembering Earth. But, I do, I remember most of my mortal life. All of my fellow lords and knights do, even if being reforged… chip away at them."
Apprehension sat like a weight on Andraste's chest. She wasn't sure what, if any, protocol there was to talking to her superiors about their home. Or if such protocols even mattered now, since they were due to arrive there soon anyway. Yet though her curiosity burned with unmatched ferocity, Andraste felt afraid to face the truth. To know more about her home, to put a 'face' to the fogged half memories that haunted her dreams. Wondering who she had been was a wonderful way to kill time, but the truth rarely met the expectation of a fantasy born of painful curiosity.
"What is Earth like?" Andraste forced the words from her lips, and the effort was like flinging herself off a cliff.
Gali's fond smile returned, "Peaceful. Relative to the Realms, anyway. Sure it's not without conflict, but compared to the realms it is an idle paradise. Though truthfully, I don't know how much of that is true. It's been over a decade since I was reforged, and if the commander's words are true, then much has probably changed since I walked among the mortals of Earth."
She scratched at her chin and frowned. A flicker of concern flashed behind her eyes, but vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I have… had, family on Earth. Siblings, parents… a lover, I think."
"Are you going to find them when we arrive?" Andraste asked. The possibility of living relatives was one she had dreamed about, and she felt a twinge of jealousy that her sister knew that they existed with absolute certainty.
Gali shook her head, her smile falling, "I have seen what happens when we try to reconnect with those we left behind, if they survived. It is rarely a happy ending, Andraste. We are not the people they remember, and it is a disservice to them and ourselves to try and be so. I will let those I left behind be content with the memory of who I was, instead of confronting what I have become."
That was not the answer Andraste had expected, or wanted. Nor could she accept it, even. Sigmar had assigned her to this mission to uncover her past, and to remember who she was. Though, perhaps he expected her to uncover her past so that she could put it to rest. A final rite for a soul that had barely escaped the grasp of death. Not a comforting thought in the slightest.
Her discomfort must have been obvious; Gali clasped Andraste's shoulder and smile again, "Take heart sister. Even if the truth of your past is not to your liking, your future is unwritten. And you will not face it alone; one thing I know for certain is that we Stormcast stand together. You will always have the Storm Envoys."
"Thank you, Gali. I appreciate your kind words." Andraste said. She did not have the heart to argue her frustrations with Gali. It was clear her fellow Stormcast meant well, and whatever Andraste's anxiety's were, she didn't need to burden Gali with them.
There was a sound of thunder, and both Stormcast turned toward the arguing commanders. Phara had cracked the ferrule of her stave to the gate's polished stone brass floor, silencing any conversation the rest of the Stormcast were enraptured in. From his position on the far side of the Dais, the Draconith Kardon woke from his nap with a long fang filled yawn, and turned one glittering eye toward the stormcast. Knight-Draconis Imperius and Knight-Azyros Davos halted whatever conversation they were having and turned their full attention to the Lord-Arcanum.
Phara waited until all eyes were on her, and when she spoke her voice was tight and clipped. "Sigmar has deemed fit to add a seventh member to our expedition. Vanquisher Andraste shall be accompanying us, by his will."
"By his will." were the solemn replies.
After sucking in a breath, the Lord-Arcanum exchanged a nod with Heron and gestured for everyone to approach. Gali gave Andraste an encouraging look, then unhooked her helm from her belt and slid it into place, the deep red plume waving in the wind. Andraste did not look away from Phara as she approached. Though the Lord-Arcanum's crackling gaze made it clear she was unhappy with this development, the decision had been made. Superior or not, Andraste was not going to be cowed by her either. She would respect her authority, but she would not be bullied because Phara was upset by a last minute change in plans that Andraste herself had little say in.
On some level, the Lord-Arcanum clearly knew that, because she elected to ignore Andraste instead and address the expedition as a whole when next she spoke. Though, her words remained clipped, "I am pleased to see all have equipped their lanterns; remember, those are your lifelines to the Anvil. Lose the lantern, and you are as mortal as any in the Realms."
She stood up straighter and changed topics, "Now, with all accounted for, I will give a brief summary of our initial objective upon our arrival. Our first order of business will be to make contact with whoever is the local authority. We are to establish a working alliance with the mortals of Earth, not assuming command. Most of you know that the people of Earth are used to governing themselves; even if it was necessary for us to assume direct control to protect the world, the people would reject us. Thus, we will operate as allies and advisors instead, meaning that we will be subject to their rules and expectations for the duration of this expedition. Am I understood?"
"Yes my lord." they intoned.
Phara nodded, satisfied by the response. "Good. We will discuss our primary objective in detail once we have established proper relations. For now though, I shall allow Lord-Commander Heron Doombreaker of the Triumvirate say his final words before we depart."
Her staff clicked against the floor as she stepped aside and let the Lord-Commander step forward. He held his helm under his arm and regarded the assembled Stormcast with open pride. "I am not one for elaborate speeches, so I'll get to the point. In the coming days, your actions will define not just the fate of an entire world, but the future of all your brothers and sisters in our stormhost. It is a great honor, but with it comes an even greater responsibility. But I believe it is one you are fit to bear. Stand together, trust in one another, and you will return to us victorious. The people of Earth are counting on you. Sigmar be with you."
He clasped his fist to his chest in a silent salute. They returned the salute in a staccato barrage of armored gauntlets to chest plates. Heron nodded and addressed Phara, "They're in your hands now, Lord-Arcanum."
Then he turned on his heel and departed.
Phara addressed the others, "To the center of the dais. Ensure any loose items are secured, and brace yourself for transport. This will be disorienting."
Andraste carefully stowed her greatsword in the sheathe on her back. It was too large to store that way when traveling with it, but the sheath was necessary for the transit to Earth. A vanquisher without their blade was hardly worthy of the title. Around her she saw the others similarly tie down weapons and trinkets, either to their belts or stowed in packs they slung over their shoulder.
A large number of extra provisions hung strapped to Kardon's saddle, though the draconith barely seemed bothered by their weight. He let Imperious clamber into place and then rose, claws clicking against the platform as he approached the center and loomed over the rest of them.
Vel stood next to Andraste, his staff firmly secured to his arm by a series of intricate roped knots. She could hear the smile in his words, "Hope you ate light, sister."
"What do you-"
Her question was cut off by the sudden shift of the dais beneath their feet. Deep within the bowls of the star-gate, gears began to move with a rumbling snarl. The rings that spun around the daise began to spin faster, and more rose from the outer edges of the platform. Faster and faster the rings spun, lightning strung between them like the threads in a tapestry as they swung. Soon, all Andraste could see was a blur of blinding light.
Andraste widened her stance to keep from falling. Lightning raced across the war-plate of the stormcast, or swirled about the tip of Phara and Vel's staffs. The smell of ozone grew overwhelming, and Andraste felt the pounding of her blood in her ears. Then, there was a crash of thunder and the world vanished.
-SF-
The world spun, and Andraste crashed into the ground in a crater of her own making. A cloud of earth and dust spat into the air around her only to quickly be smothered by a sheet of rain. A steady tapping of raindrops on her armor started, and by the time the stormcast had risen to her feet, her tabard was soaked through. Bile threatened the back of her throat, but she swallowed it with a force of will and steadied herself until her head stopped swimming.
Her vision came back into focus, revealing a muddied hillside dotted with carved stone. No, tombstones she realized. She had landed in a graveyard, and had landed in it alone. Around her, a thunderstorm raged, accompanied by a thick fog that made it impossible to see more than ten or twenty feet in front of her. The storm itself did not bother her, she was born of it after all, but the lack of visibility and her comrades was a problem.
Andraste weighed her options. The safest option was to stay where she was, wait for the others to find her. Assuming of course, that the others were anywhere near her location. The star-gate was untested technology and magic, and the possibility of something going wrong had not been ruled out. She could wait a very long time for another to find her, if they ever did at all.
No, it was time to be proactive. The last two years she had sat, waiting for others to put her to work, and that was a trend she was happy to bring to an end. Besides, storm forged or not, standing on an open hill in metal armor during the middle of a thunderstorm was asking for trouble.
She unsheathed her greatsword, taking comfort in its weight, and moved to leave the slowly flooding crater her arrival had made. Stone crunched under her feet and she paused to look down. The shattered remains of a tombstone lay beneath her feet, the name of who it commemorated lost by its destruction.
Guilt rested itself on her shoulders, and Andraste knelt to run a hand over the ruined script. "I'm sorry for this desecration. I will find someone to restore it, as soon as I can."
She was no speaker of last rites, and everything she had learned about Earth suggested there was no fear of the dead rising if disturbed. But the words felt right, the oath necessary. A mortal's body may be frail, but even they could live eternal as long as there was something to remember them by. And she would deny no one that right.
After leaving the crater, Andraste followed the curve of the hill down passing more graves as she went. Trees occasionally emerged from the fog like twisted specters, their branches reaching out like the arms of the damned in the storm wind. But, to no surprise, the living were in sparse supply; even if there were no storm, few enjoyed the company of the dead. Phara's lantern at her side cast a perpetual glow that added an eerie edge to the entire experience that Andraste really could have lived without.
A gate loomed out of the fog leading out onto a stone pavement. Beyond it, she recognized a blackened street, slick with rain water. Squat, square buildings of stone, steel, and glass, rose from the fog like the corpses of dead beasts, abandoned and weathered from years of exposure with no maintenance. A sliver of anxiety cut at her heart as she stepped out of the cemetery. Her mind thought back to her vision, of a city wracked in storm and menaced by the Leviathan. Was this what it had meant to warn her about? Her arrival to Earth?
Before she could dwell on that, there was a crash of stone and the screaming of steel that derailed her train of thought. A nearby building's edifice exploded into shards of stone and glass, and a figure in red came soaring out of it and crashed into the wall surrounding the cemetery no more than ten feet to Andraste's right. Stone and wrought iron shattered under their impact, and the figure lay there unmoving.
Andraste rushed to the mans side, her hand already moving for a phial of ghyranis stored in her belt. But when she knelt by his side, she paused. He was of average height, well built, in covered in a form fighting red-body armor. The rain had plastered his hair to his head in a helm of brown and blonde, and tapped harmlessly on the now shattered visor he wore on the top half of his face. The man let out a low groan of pain, but seemed otherwise unharmed.
A spike of pain hammered itself into the side of Andraste's skull, staggering her. The fog that clouded her memories parted at the sight of the man; terms, names that were familiar yet alien returned to her in a flood, throwing her off guard. She clenched her eyes and focused until the pain subsided and she was able to look at the man again.
Assault, that was his name. He was a… cape. The name people on Earth used for those infected, gifted power by the Parasite. Assault was part of an organization, the Protectorate. A group of these capes that worked to protect the people of Earth from greater threats. Andraste remembered seeing Assault join the Protectorate, it had been big news when he had joined the team. She remembered feeling excited, and intrigued by the new cape, but also wary. But she couldn't remember why.
By this point, Assault had regained his consciousness and had begun a slow crawl away from Andraste. He had one hand raised at her in a sign of peace. Andraste sucked in a breath and ignored the hammer still pounding on her skull.
"Rest easy, Assault. I am not your enemy, I am an ally. Are you well?"
Assault lowered his hand and took in a breath, "Well, considering Hookwolf just flung me through a building and a wall, I'd say I'm about one foot in the grave, literally. Fine otherwise though. You here to help us with Hookwolf?"
Andraste winced, more vague memories threatening to spill over, but no faces to give them purpose. She ground her teeth and growled out, "Hookwolf?"
Lightning flashed overhead and thunder rumbled. From behind, Andraste heard the sound of chains rasping and stone shifting under an immense weight. She tightened her grip on her sword and turned toward the sound. From the gaping hole in the side of the building, a writhing mass of living blades and chains spilled into the rain. Sparks and chips of stone flew into the air as the mass moved and took shape.
Powerful arms and legs lifted it off the floor, and wolf like snout snapped open revealing a constantly shifting sea of blades and chains Beneath the sea of blades and weapons, a pair of very human blue eyes stared at Andraste.
"That would be Hookwolf." Assault said.
A/N: Fun fact, this story originally was going to have an entire entourage of serfs following the Stormcasts before I realized that would simply clutter the narrative in a story that was already going to have a lot of characters. Much as I liked the idea, I had to cut it. Otherwise, I was quite pleased with this chapter. I have one more chapter in reserve and then I'm taking a break on Stormfall. The general reaction to this fic has been lukewarm at best and I've found myself wanting to move on to older projects instead. That might change at some point, but it is what it is.
See you all next week, ciao!