It was cold and quiet, as it always was.
The odd undead would find its way here on occasion, yet for the most part it was peaceful. The corvians usually kept to themselves, although very kind creatures as long as you don't rile them up.
Apart from them, it was cold and quiet.
How many had attempted it now, lured by a peculiar doll? Was it curiosity? Were they suicidal? Were they seeking refuge from the outside like so many before them?
But still, it was cold and quiet.
Time had a funny way of of spinning in the world of Ariamis, neither still nor was it fully running. It was lost, but not welcome to those that wished to find it.
"Pare'koi!"
The quiet was shattered. A thunderous explosion and the knight guarding the bridge fell through the doorway dead, large chunks blown out the back of its armour.
Through the unguarded entrance they flooded, strange men dressed in purple and black. Each one carried a staff of wood and metal, more mages attempting this folly.
They fanned out around the perimeter with their staffs held funny. Amateur mages, maybe?
One was ordering the others about, a large warrior stood behind him with glittering plate covering them from head to toe. Faces watched from all angles of its helm.
A second large warrior closed in behind the first, very light on its feet, almost floating.
The shouty one pointed, "Pare'koi! Eev olha mannii!"
"Who art thou? One of us, thou art not."
Words fell on deaf ears as the shouty one flashed his teeth in frustration. His oddly golden eyes flashing in the low light.
The world was quiet no longer, but it was still cold and the inhabitance kind.
A boy, no more than 15, stood just behind the one barking orders. The boy was of this world, the offspring of a birch woman. Odd that he chose to stand with outsiders.
They would be given one more chance.
"If thou hast misstepped into this world, plunge down from the plank and hurry home. If thou seekest I, thine desires shall be requited not."
Beneath the rippling silver-white furs that cloaked her, nimble fingers clutched the haft of that which even gods feared. Everything would be done to keep this world cold and quiet.
Another figure appeared behind the two giants in plate, this one lithe and its armour form fitting. The helm was strange, blank, featureless and seemingly formed from a single piece of unknown metal.
It sidled up to the shouty one, cocked its helmeted head and pointed with a lanky arm and whispered.
Hostility oozed from every one of the strange mages, the warriors too. Though this was soon over taken by a sudden calm, a false and dangerous calm.
The shouty one stepped forward and sighed, running a hand over his scarred face. His golden eyes watched from behind his long fingers, before he turned back to the warrior in the many faced helm.
"Benna," He sighed again, speaking to the other warrior. "Oksae mo'ginna, pes vona oha meri solka pureen."
The world was slowly warming and drowning in noise. These strangers were infected by it, stained in the blood of the kind denizens of the painted world.
They were no-longer welcome!
Life-Hunt hissed through the air in its grand reveal, the hidden blade revealed and brandished. Those that sullied this world would feel its bite. Oh, why couldn't they leave like the rest and let well enough alone?
One step backwards and the painted snow whirled into a frenzy, it another cloak she wore about her body. One more trick to hide her away.
They never moved, nor a flicker of emotion. Other men would flinch at the sight or lack there of the Cross-breed's disappearing act.
All except the shouty one, his mouth was moving but she was no longer listening to his infected voice-the last she would ever hear. The uniformed mages moved as one to the shouty one's bark, lifting their staffs. They would all fall, no magic had every brought her low.
Bang…
Clouds of stinking white smoke burst from the staffs, the hail of metal ignoring the snow-storm whipped up in the tower.
Each one tore at her very being, snatching from her life.
Her home, her world was now ablaze with cacophony, white pained canvas stained red with draining life, and then the dark from which all was born.
Once more, it was cold and quiet.
Hello everyone, Khaos' Champion here.
Been a while, hasn't it?
Where have I been? What have I been doing? Why has this story been left to rot?
Well, I can tell you all now...I got bored and moved on with other projects. Then I found work and that took over my life...then I fell back into the old Warhammer addiction and the pile of shame looks at me with such longing. So many Skaven to build, so many Blood Axes.
Anyway, I've put together this little chapter because I would like to complete this little fiction. There will be changes however as Johannes-Friedrich von Bayer, Vexa Kellentine and Siegnette are all being used in other projects which I would like to get published, and as such cannot remain on here.
I also really dislike the earlier parts of the story and John's character – those were written by a me I no longer recognise – and want to spruce things up a little.
I would also like to give you a little glimpse into the current project I am working on – currently titles 'Siegnette' – this is part of chapter 6 (Again this will not being staying up forever, once I'm ready to publish, I will edit this out)
I landed hard.
The soft embrace of an elm my saviour and I lay impaled upon one of the branches, everything hurt and my mind was fogged. I was too tired to cry out, not that I could. My spine had been neatly arranged into three separate pieces. It was near dawn when I finally pulled myself from the bough, multiple punctures steamed with black void yet failed to close.
I scooped up my fallen musket and laid against the trunk and felt sorry for myself. The softness of the breeze played nicely against the birdsong. What a contrast to the sound of guns and screaming.
Beyond the trees and the chirping was the rush of water and the smells of the copse were almost familiar, just on the fringe of a memory. Floating just above was a constant grinding and after a moment of reflection, the scent of ground spelt told me exactly where I was.
The mill looked just as I had left it, but why there?
An alarm of sort was raised; the flat-nosed face of the miller appeared, in his hands lay a hefty looking club. He hurled obscenities my way until I shouldered my weapon.
Mr Panyette froze.
"I'm passing through, no more," I lowered the musket.
The miller grunted.
"I know...I remember the promise."
But he wouldn't get his chance to kill me, Roxi wouldn't have wanted it and if Vexa ever found out there wouldn't be a mill there any longer. I don't blame the man, when she died I went through a similar phase of blaming myself...I was the reason she joined the company.
Yet, Vexa has stripped that guilt away and had replaced it with forgiveness. Each tender touch of her hand, every moment being held to her warm bosom.
You've heard this all before, how she saved me, so I won't bore you again.
The mill receded into the distance, I had my bearings now and put one foot in front of the other. The more distance the better, I figured.
It was no more than four mile away that I stopped, deciding I would go no further. The ruins of the old kingdom, built long before the rise of Perzanost. Moss encrusted stones and carved reliefs stood as reminders, these were old even when I came to this land.
There was something beautiful about sitting in the empty shell of a long dead civilisation, it wasn't the first time either I had walked these roofless halls. Off came my shoes, so I could feel the wet grass between my toes. It was ritual to me.
My fingers traced the cool stone and I allowed myself to close my eyes.
"What do I do now?" I asked the silence.
I'd been a soldier for the best part of four-hundred years, could I go back to the pits? I could still swing a pick, shift the raw materials.
I could only imagine Vexa's face,'You are not working down a dirty hole in the ground!'
No, that wouldn't do at all. I had a virginal at home, what if I turned my hand to being a court musician? That was a chance in a million.
Silly really.
Amidst the crumbling ruins stood an old watch-tower, another familiar twinge to the heart.
Very special, very special indeed.
Its sandstone facade was chipped and pitted, support beam worm-eaten and rotted. One breath of wind and the whole decrepit structure would topple, it never would. Not whilst I walked Perzanost. I even called it home for some time.
Okay, many a time.
This was the first glimpse of Perzanost, where I woke exiled. My sanctuary during the Purik incursion some four-hundred years ago. Where I hid myself upon Roxi's untimely death, and where Vexa saved my 'soul'.
Each step up those creaking stairs brought on another memory of the last five-hundred years. Why had I danced so close to the mill and to here? What reason? It was torture.
Yet, it was also safe.
And there was my answer, simple as usual.
The top floor was dust and cobwebs, damp and dark. Perfect for a little self-reflection.
I did my best to clear some of the floor, but gave up and sat cross-legged on the thick carpet of age. I'd try and think for once.
Slowly, I retreated within my mind. The universe had yet to be born that last time I had done this, and I don't know how long that was.
The world went dark…
…
…
…
"Thought you might be here."
My eyes snapped open, everything was stiff, each muscle creaking like dry wood, the joints popping, turning my neck took effort. Dust painted my skin and uniform, flakes dropping free in small flurries.
The love of my life stood by the trap door her sword on her hip and dressed in her old armour, which was now looking a little snug...she looked absolutely divine.
"But how?"
"Where else would you be?" Vexa cocked her head, slightly.
"Fair point," I stood with a groan, "Goodness, how long have I been here?"
I rolled my shoulders and suddenly felt the armoured sting of Vexa's gauntlet against my cheek, her glare welding me to the spot.
"A bloody week! Your poor daughter thought you weren't coming back!"
My entire body was then pulled against the cold steel of her cuirass, held within the tight embrace of her arms. Vexa had no mind of letting go.
If not for the armour and the location, it would have been perfect. This, and this alone, was safety and I knew nothing else like it.
As always, I will concede, Vexa was right again. Could have just hid and let the whole stinking lot wash away in the rainstorms. Maybe they still would, but the only time I've ever been that lucky has been with Vexa and Siegnette.
The world about us stopped; the silence was deafening, cut through by the steady percussion of two hearts and hushed sibilance of quietened breathing.
Her fingers found mine and those big green eyes bore into my 'soul', followed by the leaden guilt now hanging 'bout my neck like a mill-stone
Words failed at my lips, hiding behind my teeth as frightened children hide from verger's wife after stealing from her fruit trees. "Thinking back," I stifled a chuckle, "this wasn't the most glamorous place we've had sex, is it?"
The redhead sucked on her lips in response, trying not to laugh at the stupid comment. The statement was true, however.
"I still recall Vixen's face," The redhead smiled briefly, "I've never seen the man so flustered, I thought he must have known."
No, our relationship had been well hidden. Well, that's not wholly true, as one other person knew about Vexa and myself. That secret had been taken to the grave however.
Almost involuntarily, my hand went to the small pouch hanging around my neck.
I bit my lip and looked back up into my wife's eyes. The sting of everything that had happened was creeping back up my spine.
"What do I do now?"
Vexa shook her head with a soft smile playing at her lips.
"Well firstly, you're coming home and apologising to your little girl," she said, "Then you're bathing, and then you're making it up to me...you know how."
With sigh, I nodded.
A lot of vigorous love making was in my future, and there was my promise.
"Now soldier! About face and march!" her gauntlets were at my shoulders, twisting me about with great force, "We've a long journey, so move!"
At the base of the tower stood a highly ornate carriage bearing the heraldry of the Kellantine family. Before I could say a word, Vexa manhandled me through the carriage's door and unceremoniously dumped my still aching body on the back seat, then tapped the roof.
With a jolt, we started to move.
Vexa's eyes never left me, as if expecting me to bolt. Waiting for a move that would never come, but I'd done enough running, for my actions and emotions. I was just glad to be reunited with my wife.
"You made a promise, mister," the arches an eyebrow, playfully.
I looked on blankly. A promise? Oh...that promise.
"I think we should wait until we're in the comfort of home, and Siegnette needs to stay with Vixen or her granddad."
Her face soured instantly.
"Vexa!" I countered before she could start, "It hurts and it's not just physical pain, I'm tearing your soul out!"
No, before anyone thinks it. I wasn't stalling, I genuinely wanted her to be like me and, well, Vexa wasn't moving on the issue.
"I'll be fine, Jonathon," she reached over and took my hands, squeezing them tightly.
Without any more of a fight, I sighed, "Fine, let us do it now and pray the kiss is quick. Strip and lay down, now."
My wife nodded and off came her armour, which was neatly placed next to me. Then, with a little difficulty, Vexa reclined on the padded seating.
My fingers brushed her fiery locks and asked again if she was sure. I'd much prefer her in the comfort of our bed and not having her bone jarred with every stone and divot. She told me to stop putting things off.
So, before I performed the kiss, I kissed her lips softly, with the tenderness a husband could afford. Then, with a gently touch, my fingers found the skin above her heart and in the blinking of an eye Vexa Kellantine ceased to be human, she had received the Erebayan kiss...god's curse.
And nothing, and I mean nothing, prepared me for her screams.
I hope you all enjoy, and hopefully I won't be gone too long this time.
Until next time,
Farewell.