*Gilles here. A fell fog of the mind fell upon me, causing me to lose sight of the destination of our tale. I am pleased to finally be able to continue the story of Marcus and Tobias!*

I thank you all for the follows and the constructive reviews, one in particular stood out to me, concerned I am setting Six up to be a "Mary Sue" archetype, being too trusting to Tobias in revealing his true name. This will not be the case and all will be explained in time! Remember, nothing is ever as it initially appears in the Old World, there is darkness within even the brightest paragon, and light in the lowest scoundrel.

Chapter Three: Shock and Awe

"It's a Beastman Warband!", Tobias nearly snarled, a look of absolute hatred and loathing lay upon his usually patrician face at the sight of the misshapen band of creatures surrounding the campsite. "What fools we were to remain in this place!", Tobias said as if annoyed, drawing the same dark blade that was drawn against his erstwhile foe, now allied through need before darker foes. Red runes along the length of the blade were now lit up hungrily, blazing its defiance to the darkness, whilst the stones around the mage's staff began orbiting the prongs at an increasing pace, small charges of energy sparking between them. Meanwhile, as Six also drew his blade, he began searching for a weak spot in the encirclement, a thinning of the line, anything they could use for a tactical breakout. Vainly he bent his augmented mind to looking for any advantage the duo could utilize, however as he cast his gaze towards the far end of the clearing, a large shadow he mistook for a boulder shifted and shouldered its bulk through the smaller creatures until it stood fully in the firelight in the clearing.

Six momentarily froze, not in fear, but in incomprehension: if he wasn't crazy, a Minotaur from ancient myth stood in the clearing, but more massive than any statuary or scrawls from Ancient Greece could ever convey. Standing at nearly 3 meters tall to the tips of its vicious horns, rippling with muscle, a mere loincloth being the only garb covering its immense body, the minotaur looked at the duo with barely constrained rage. Snorting huge clouds of hot, fetid breath into the cold night air, the beast raised the crude, yet immense axes in its hands above its head, and brayed a sound no being could mistake: that of a predator finding its prey. Braying and gnashing its maw, the minotaur sprinted into a ferocious charge straight at the two smaller humans and raised its axes high, eyes flashing red in anticipation of the blood to come. Slashing down at Tobias, the eclectic wizard suddenly vanished in a violet flash of light, reappearing behind the minotaur with his staff lowered. The orbs had reached a maddeningly swift speed, arcs of azure and indigo energy arcing in several directions, Tobias gritting his teeth in concentration as he murmured a canticle in some unknown language.

In the interim, the minotaur had turned in confusion and met the eyes of Marcus. Sensing a worthy foe, the minotaur leapt at the large human and brought both axes down with all of its mutated strength, drool falling disgustingly out its mouth at the gorefeast that was about to begin. Six angled his blade to catch both axes with all of his strength. SHIRRRINGGG! The minotaur gaped at the warrior in black, as the blow that would have rent a village's gate asunder, as it had many times before to the despair of countless commoners, was caught by the cerulean lined blade of the warrior, armor and sword blazing brightly in the night, nearly blinding even the Beastmen watching from the shadows. Marcus was driven to a knee at the impact of the strike, this thing hit like a Hunter! However, he felt his armor and sword heat around his body, as well as a noticeable increase in fatigue. Some magic had been used to allow him to withstand such a mighty blow, with some cost. "MARCUS, MOVE NOW!" Six shoved the minotaur with all of his strength, achieving a slight stumble back, and vaulted into a roll away from the beast. Tobias then rose from the clearing, levitating 8 feet in the air, staff and stones orbiting him as he raised his sword to the night sky. A pillar of lighting fired into the sky like an energy beam from a Scarab, hit the mage's sword, and akin to a lightning conductor, struck the minotaur with the wrath of the heavens themselves. Where a monstrosity of a beast once stood, an explosion of charred flesh and gore detonated across the clearing, the thunderclap echoing off the hills for miles around. The smaller Beastmen brayed and watered their hooves in fear and fled the hilltop from the powerful wizard and warrior duo. As the last vestiges of thunder ebbed back into eerie silence, Marcus raised his head and looked back towards his new companion. Slowly alighting back upon the ground, staff and orbs returning to their master's hand, Tobias gave a weary smile to the Spartan and made to walk forwards, but had to hurriedly be grabbed by Marcus as he stumbled and nearly fell into the blood-soaked snow.

"I don't believe I was quite prepared to deliver such a spell just yet", Tobias said in a fatigued voice. "I walked through many planes to see what kind of disturbance had descended into the Northern Wastes, only to find you and a Beastman Warband. I won't be able to cast like that again, I'm much diminished." Marcus marveled at the conjurer and brought him back to his feet. "I should have not tried to take its blow direct as I did, I felt energy leave my body as well just from one strike. Thanks for the assist, that might have gone badly. The rest seem to have left as well. You made quite an impression.", Marcus stated humorously, aiding Tobias back to his feet. "Ah, jokes from the stoic planewalker, now I have seen it all tonight!", Tobias said sarcastically, brushing bits of bone off his armor. "We should keep moving, I did not speak in jest when I said I was diminished, I have spent more energy in one evening than I have in centuries. Those Beastmen will be back, and in greater numbers." Marcus snapped his head around at that, looking around the now silent clearing. The two men gathered their meager belongings, scrounging what few supplies that weren't spoilt by the previous raid, and began moving south.

As the adventurers hastily made their way out of the foothills, they heard howling and braying and sounds that could not be explained as creatures of the mortal realm swarmed the high hilltop of their ill-fated campsite. "We should find shelter that will hide us from these creatures.", Marcus said hurriedly. "I have a feeling they will not be happy to find their leader strewn across the landscape. Tobias stopped all of a sudden, causing Marcus to halt and look upon him curiously as the wizard suddenly seemed to be both lost in thought, and intensely concentrating on something. A few moments went by and Tobias came back to rigid attention suddenly, a stormy expression on his face. "That creature was not their leader. However, the uncouth being they call as such has arrived at our hilltop. We won't escape him in the Oblast. They will run us down as if we were a pair of hares. There is a little-known underground passage, nearly unused in decades. We must make for it! Run!", with that statement, the eclectic mage ran swiftly East, parallel to the hilltop they just descended.

Pushing himself to keep pace, Marcus utilized every fiber of his enhanced musculature to keep pace with the shorter man, as they fled nearly a league towards what appeared to be a small foothill, with a towering ridge surrounding it on three sides. As the pair approached the base of the mound, they heard a howl from up above, and as their gaze heightened, they saw hundreds of eyes watching them in the darkness. Tobias let off another of his flares of light from his staff, and they saw dozens of wolf-like creatures gazing hungrily at them on the ridge. "Chaos Warhounds, careful boy, these are not like any wolves you have ever encountered.", Tobias snarled. In the sharp relief offered from the magic beacon, Marcus could see what his companion meant. Powerful jaws containing far too many teeth, tails like scorpions, scales like serpents, all were alike, yet none were the same. It was if some mad experiment had gone wrong, or horribly right. Just as they went to move to cover, the hounds slowly backed away from the precipice as a booming, reverberating warhorn that set the two men's hackles raising sounded through the deep, and a massive humanoid creature even larger than the minotaur approached the edge of the cliff to gaze balefully down at the prey below.

4 meters of muscle with definition that could only be called impossible, armored crudely but effectively in heavy black plate, crisscrossed with battle scarring and cruelly sharp talons covered its torso, a heavy mane matted in what seemed like blood cascaded across its broad shoulders, with a necklace of human hands hanging around the beast's mighty neck. A huge two-handed axe, made out of the same dark ore that created its armor rested easily in one hand, as the other rose and pointed downwards with all the authority of fate itself. "You humans trespass in Graktar's land! You kill Graktar's beasts! You will BE MY FEAST! GRAZHUL FAL ALTALU!", the Beastlord, Graktar as he introduced himself, roared out to the two hapless intruders, then bellowing something in his own twisted tongue, clenching his hand into a shaking fist. The hounds then let out a cacophony of howls and bays and sprinted with powerful strides down each side of the crag, with several hundred more beastmen following behind them. Marcus and Tobias both drew their blades and dashed for a small hollow on the side of the mound, maybe 50 meters away. "We won't make it!", yelled Marcus as he saw the Chaos hounds begin making their way to the bottom of the ridge, the first dozen already beginning to run across the ground towards them. "Keep running! We either make it or our bones go to Morr this day!", Tobias rasped through gritted teeth, firing a much smaller bolt of lightning that chained through 5 of the hounds closest to them. 2 hounds finally reached the pair and Marcus stopped to dispatch the two of them with two clean strokes, decapitating one and nearly doing so to the second with the upswing, blood trails sloughing off his sword as he began a deadly dance only a Spartan could do. Tobias pirouetted gracefully with his hand and a half sword as well, dancing out of the path of a leaping hound, neatly slicing tendons, arteries, and other crucial anatomical parts without ever being touched, a dance only a grand master could achieve, and then with difficulty. The dual swordsman began to interweave their efforts as more and more hounds swarmed them, Marcus combining his speed and strength as well as his heavier armor to protect him from the mangy hounds, with Tobias spinning and leaping through the air like a gymnast, seeking to maim and incapacitate rather than fully kill, however he was just as effective, a line behind the two of the dead and dying attested to their skill.

As they reached the entrance to the small cave, Marcus saw that it descended steeply into the ground, nearly a hole than a descent. "Tobias! Where have you led us!? We are trapped, this is no cave it is a fissure!", Marcus grated out as the first of the Beastmen had finally made it to them, animal ferocity combined with primitive weaponry making their numbers all the more difficult to defend against. Both men now sported several superficial wounds from being inundated from blows from every angle, not even their superhuman abilities and prodigious skill able to halt every attack coming at them. "Jump Marcus! Don't question just jump! I'll cover our tracks!", Tobias yelled out, as he sheathed his sword and created a moment of calm as he swept his staff in a slashing motion in front of them and a wash of flame sprayed into the faces of the mutated creatures. Marcus looked behind him, sheathed his blade and leapt feet first into the abyss, sliding down the steep crevice rapidly. He heard a large explosion, looking up to see Tobias falling down beside him as a hail of boulders crashed into his helm, blotting out what little light and consciousness he had remaining.

A few hours later….

Marcus awoke slowly, pain wracking his skull, to complete darkness, a small line of blood drying on his cheek. The ground was rock, but strangely smooth and moist. He unsteadily raised himself into a seated position, finding himself next to a wall. He leaned against it and removed his helm, letting it fall weakly to his side. "I need light", he muttered, then to his surprise his armor and helmet glowed weakly silver, giving a modicum of illumination to his surroundings. Rubble surrounded their immediate area, most likely from the fall, however further out it seemed almost as if they had landed on an underground road. Looking around for Tobias, he saw a flash of gold wink in the darkness as he moved his helm around like a torch, and slowly crawled over to the supine form of his companion. Turning him over to his side, he put the back of his gauntlet to the wizard's mouth and was relieved to see his breath feebly condensate on the cold metal.

Rummaging through his tattered pack he had picked up from one of the dead travelers at the campsite, Marcus found a skin half-filled with wine that he slowly dripped into the wizard's mouth, trying to give some sustenance to the already fatigued, and now most likely wounded sage. Getting frustrated, Marcus stood up and tried to figure out their surroundings. Carefully propping Tobias against the cavern wall, Marcus explored down the "road" for about 30 meters, running his hand along the rock and stepping slowly in the dim light emitted from his plate. Suddenly he felt a gap and stopped, holding his helm in front like a torch. There was an opening here. Stepping inside, he saw an old iron door, nearly rusted to the hinges, and saw what appeared to be some kind of old room, perhaps a storeroom? Looking around, most seemed ancient and decayed, any wooden furniture long since lost to time, however there were a set of iron bunks in the corner, no mattresses but a solid iron base, good enough to lay on.

Marcus checked over the rest of the room, not finding much besides rusted metal and old cloth, and determined it was safe enough. Returning to Tobias, he placed his helm upon his head and collected the wizard and his belongings, tired muscles barely able to lift the man's prostrate body and possessions, resulting in an almost pitiful half carry, half dragging motion towards the room. Barely able to roll the mage into one of the lower bunks, Marcus shuffled to the door and had to push mightily to get it to shut. With a screeching dissonance of rusted metal and ancient iron, he barely managed to get it pushed to, the latch had all but withered away. The Spartan somehow in his tired mind commanded his armor to dim, and sat against the door for security, and passed back into unconscious dreams.

Skitniq was starving. Well, to be fair, that was an everyday occurrence for a typical Skaven. However, today was worse than others. He was sent on a scouting mission down the old, long abandoned Dwarven Underway that was meant to connect the Southern Dwarves to their lost hold of Kraka Drak to the North, long abandoned as the dwarves had waned over the millennia. These tunnels were uninhabited by any but the strange creatures that dwelt in the dark, a few pockets of lost feral Skaven, and other…more horrible things. He was the last of his small ill-fated expedition, trying to scurry his way back to the Hell-Pit where he was sure to be fed to the slaves as meat unless he could find something to curry favor with his Pack-Leader. Skitniq knew not in his small mind what manner of creature had devoured his fellow scouts, but he had always had a major talent for disappearing into the dark when trouble appeared, even more so than the Nightrunner assigned to lead the group of clanrats through the Underway passages. When his pack was ambushed, he scampered behind an archway and fearfully watched as a large centipede-like creature came out of the darkness and dismembered all 20 of his fellow Skaven, feasting upon their corpses as he made his way quietly back to the North.

Skitniq knew he was doomed, and marched dejectedly up the road wishing the Horned Rat would show mercy upon his pitiful form and give him a prize to take back to Gnashrak, his Pack-Leader. Suddenly, a scent of a man-thing and elf-thing reached his snot-filled snout and he released subconsciously fear-musk and hid in a corner, his uncanny sense of smell detecting the odor coming from an old Dwarf watchroom from further up the road. Hiding for a while, but not hearing any noise, a uncommon modicum of courage tinged the heart of the diminutive ratling and Skitniq crept to the cracked doorway and peaked inside. There was a large human leaned against the door, asleep, with a half elf sleeping in one of the old bunks. Thinking this was the start of a human scouting party, or some band of adventurers from the land Above, Skitniq saw a piece of bread in the hand of the human by the door, and stretched his mangy hand inside quietly and snatched it from the man-thing's palm. Stirring in his sleep, Skitniq ran for his life, the brief moment of courage gone, spraying his fear-musk everywhere, but kept the prize of the bread in his maw, his prize to Gnashrak to spare his life, to warn his Pack and Clan of these interlopers.

Not 6 hours later, drums, drums in the deep.

The Skaven were coming.

*Unashamedly stole the last line from Tolkien, I know. However, it definitely seemed fitting. Apologies to all for the vast amount of time it took to get another chapter out, however I have had a lot of big life events happen to give cause for delay. Chapters should definitely start coming out more often, my outline is nearly complete, and I have a draft of the next few chapters waiting for my editorial prowess (or lack thereof).

Hope you enjoy, and may the Light of the Lady guide you. *