Post by isayeli on Nov 28, 2019 20:02:02 GMT
The gates opened, signaling the gathered army that it is time to exit the Brass Keep. The beginning of movement made Hekarria blink and look at her “entourage”: nine marauders and a chaos warrior – all worshipers of the Lord of Excess. After a short while a sign to move came to them, by a nudge of the hand into her back from said warrior. “Move” she heard, beginning to move. She ended up in this mess and there was no apparent way out of it… at least as of yet, so all she had to do now is comply, which implied accompanying this party and keeping in line.
As she moved on foot, she watched the siege engines that were dragged by others, and marching groups of marauders, beastmen and warriors. For some reason the words she heard from the warrior accompanying her prior to march resurfaced in her mind. “Don’t step out of line and we’ll have no reason to kill you.” Kill. It sounded just like her brother would do, had he managed to get his hands on her. “Such is fate.” – she sighed, realizing she said it out loud the moment after. Fortunately, no one seemed to pay attention to it, as some groups started singing odes, or songs to glorify their patron. She looked around, somewhat expecting to spot a familiar place from the court, but couldn’t see anyone. Even Erling couldn’t be spotted from behind the amount of people marching after him.
The march itself was rather uneventful, at least to the part of army Hekarria was in. Her party marched on silently, right until the stop for camp. Interestingly enough she was provided with separate tent. “Do they fear their Jarl’s retribution?” – she thought as she was setting it up. Upon nearly finishing it, she heard the sound of wings beating against the air and felt bird claws hold onto her shoulder. “Doing well, princess?” – the mutated bird asked in mocking manner.
“Better tell me what scouting did you do.” – she sighed, ignoring the taunt – “After all, it’s too quiet to be good if you ask me.” She’d then finish up her tent, a bit further than the usual distance between the tents of her “entourage”. Meanwhile the bird croaked – “Nothing on the horizon, except the city. Seems like the big guy’s target, no?”
Hekarria just shrugged. “It’s just a plunder for him most likely. But perhaps we can find something interesting for ourselves. Especially if it has Sanctum Maleficarum…” – she pondered, getting into the tent with the bird, to prepare the sleeping bag for herself. “You’re putting too much hope on it, don’t you?” – Adrun croaked, hopping off her shoulder to start cleaning its feathers. That made her look at her own right arm, watching white feathers shine under the light of the lantern. She clenched her hand into the fist, watching feathers tense, then simply laid on the bag, closing her eyes. “That’s the question for tomorrow, as the answer will be there regardless.” – she said, before falling into a slumber.
At the next day the army would reach the city of Sokh. Hekarria’s party was positioned near the farthest wall, guarding one of catapults. The chaos warrior in her party donned his helmet, before stating to her: “You will stay with us, and provide magical support for the catapult.” Hekarria just nodded, gripping her staff firmly, then concentrating, helping the people who manned the catapult concentrate and aim at the wall by mentally linking with them.
The city rang the alarm, indicating that the initial strike force has made it through the gates, just as planned. That was the signal for the catapult to start firing. The stones flew towards the wall, slowly, but steadily into the wall, eventually caving a hole large enough for a regiment of beastmen to pour in. She’ then heard a familiar croak of Adrun, as it landed on her shoulder, making her interrupt her concentration: “Girl, we got problem! Big one!” Before she could ask, two of the marauders from her group, were hit by flying greataxe: first one was literally split in two from his head down to the middle of his chest, the other one flew with it into the catapult, breaking it and burying him in the wreckage, the, only thing that was visible from it was the handle of the axe.
As she looked towards the direction the axe came flying from, she saw a tall man, in blood red armor with bronze adornments. She instantly knew who it was, and why this monster of a man was here. She quikly ran towards the warrior. “He’s after me. If you let me run, you can avoid him to think of…” She couldn’t finish, interrupted by the warrior: “Silence! You, Khornate, by what right you dare to attack followers of Jarl Elring Stormdrinker?!” – he demanded, motioning for remaining marauders to surround the unarmed chosen.
The Chosen just, exclaimed “I’m here for my sister! Now out of the way, whelps.” He stepped forward, and one of marauders rushed to attack him, only to grab his axe taken from him, along with his arm being ripped off, then have his skull split in two by it. Another one that rushed to help his comrade was stopped dead in his tracks by punch that pierced his abdomen. The Khornate just laughed, pulling his fist out together with bloodied entrails, then threw the likely to be already dead body into the third marauder, knocking him off his feet. Fourth one met his end by having his skull fractured into a pulp from a mighty blow of the armored fist.
The Slaaneshi warrior stood near Hekarria, preventing her escape, both watching how the Chosen effortlessly dispatched the rest of the marauders, then moved to grab his axe, pulling it out of remain of the catapult. “Out of my way, wimp. I’m interested only in the magus here.” – he pointed at Hekarria while speaking to the warrior. The warrior exclaimed: “You are attacking Jarl’s property. It is my duty and glory to stop you!” – he boasted, rushing onto the chosen. Hekarria rushed towards the hole in the wall, thinking that it’s the best way to lose her brother, not staying to find out who is victorious.
The city itself was a maze of narrow streets, so Hekarria hoped it won’t be hard to hide, as she brushed past fighting beastmen, marauders, warriors and southlander guards that fought each other. She crossed a corner, hiding behind the wall, as she caught her breath. “I need a plan. And fast.” – she exclaimed, panting – “Don’t think I can run that much.” Before she could continue the thought, wall of the house she hid behind flew apart, revealing the charging chosen, who stopped, raising her axe at her. “Herkarria… I have come to bring an end to you.” – he started slowly advancing towards her – “You can’t run forever from your shame in the eyes of the Blood God.”
Hekarria’s mind raced: “He’s probably warded against magic since he’s chosen… think... think!!” she urged her mind to come up with something. With roar, her brother swung the axe, attempting to cut her down. Fortunately, she dodged, ending up near the outhouse or refuse pile, she couldn’t take time to figure out what it was regardless. “I may not be able to run forever, Wokhan…” – she exclaimed, grabbing the bucket filled with refuse, then threw it into him – “But I do hope I won’t have to run someday.” Judging by the loud roar, the bucket hit its mark, disorienting him, which gave her a chance to escape, so she took it. Unfortunately, the roaring juggernaut of her brother wasn’t that far behind. She turned corners and jumped carts, anything to make the distance between them bigger, but the Chosen didn’t seem to relent. She ran out into a large street, hoping to find some allies to distract him, but only saw Erling with his entourage. She decided not to stop to explain the situation, nor wait for command to stop, diving into the nearby street, narrowly escaping the swing of the axe, that gets stuck in one of the supports of the building. Sadly, Wokhan just slows down a little, tugging it onto himself, which just destroys the support, sending the building crashing onto the ground, collapsing onto the street, and blocking the path to the street she just crossed.
“No help from the Jarl it seems.” – she sighed in her mind, groaning, as the spark of pain cut through her back: the axe managed to scratch her back, ripping through her robes, and tearing them along with leaving a wound on her back, she stumbled, sloppily balancing herself, as she turned the corner, with most of her coat ripping apart completely as it stuck on the spear of the dead guard, leaving the magus only in what was under it. Hekarria noticed, that the streets seem to lead up to one place: the temple of Sigmar, and any attempt to turn would be now pointless.
She threw a cart into Wokhan, making him stumble to get it out of his way, as she ran into the church, running down to the crypt. Once there, she hid behind one of the sarcophagi, panting exhaustively. “Is this the end?” – she thought to herself, as she heard heavy footsteps, trailing down the stairs.
“Your blood trail betrays feeble attempt to hide, sister.” – Wokhan roared, increasing his pace as he followed the drops of blood. “This is the end.” – she thought to herself, closing her eyes to embrace it.
But before it could reach her, the sound of an arrow piercing the armor echoed through the crypt, along with the groan of her brother. “Who dares!?” – he roared, turning around. She didn’t look out, knowing it’d likely spell her doom, only hearing “By the will of Change I send you to the Chaos Wastes.” Her brother stumbled, screaming: “No! You dare?! I will kiiii…” – he couldn’t finish before being teleported. Hekarria just exhaled, slumping into the tomb, just ignoring the bleeding, then she heard: “Come out child, I’m... a friend of sorts.”
She moved her head up from her position, seeing a person, seemingly looking like a beastman, albeit with avian head with beak and different horns, more intricate than those of the gors or ungors. He, or it, continued: “Don’t worry child, he is away.” Hekarria squinted distrustfully: “Who are you and why are you here.” – “I am a being living from the will of Tzeentch and forever indebted to the Lord of Change. My duty today was to send away that champion.” – the beastman replied. She just crossed her arms, groaning as the pain crept back in due to adrenaline rush subsiding, as she waited for him to continue.
The “savior” took out a black book, with Tzeentch insignia inscribed upon it, continuing to speak: “I come bearing another gift. Even two...” – he beckoned her closer. Hekarria understood that the creature was a greater chance to survive than dying to blood loss on her own, thus she moved closer. Her hands reached towards the book, feeling the leather cover with her fingers, as the creature didn’t move it away or try to shove her hands away. “You are entrusted in studying this. If you are clever enough, it will provide all the answers you need… if not… you can burn it, or give it to someone to drive them crazy.”
Hekarria furrowed her brow – “What is this?” – she then opened the book, finding only strange inscriptions, as if someone perverted even more chaos runes. The beastman responded: “A cipher of sorts. It contains a message meant only for your eyes.” – he then extended his hand, starting to cast a spell to close the wound on her back – “And this is my second gift. Remember, Lord of Change is always watching… and he is particularly interested in what happens in the band of misfits you ended up with.” Those were the bird-man, for the lack of the better description, words before he vanished as suddenly as he probably appeared. She closed the book, attempting to place it into the pocket of her robe, only to find the robe got ruined by the wild chase. Realizing it is no longer useful, she just tossed it onto the floor of the crypt, staying in the shirt that was underneath it, heading out.
As she exited the chapel, she saw the aftermath of the battle: Marauders pillaging through what wasn’t burned or destroyed, beastmen eating southlanders – both those dead and those unlucky to be alive still. She took note of the Chaos Warriors heading towards the main square of the city. “I bet a feather from my arm that it’s where the Jarl likely is.” – she said to herself, hearing the familiar beating of wings followed up by a croak – “That was one wild chase, wasn’t it? Did you actually kill the guy?” – Adrun asked, landing onto her feathery arm. Hekarria furrowed her brows – “And you were just watching I take it?” – she asked, continuing – “No, he was sent away by some sorcerous Tzeentian beastman, believe it or not.” – “You’ll have to make the golden-eyed guy believe it. I bet he’d ask questions like ‘What happened to my precious boys that were assigned to keep you in line?’, hah!” – the raven croaked, after attempting imitate Erling, an attempt only the mutated bird found funny. She just responded nothing, heading towards the square, along everyone else. She took note of couple of gazes from marauders directed at her as she passed them, but she just responded them with a firm nod.
“Well, I say I should call it a day before it gets any more eventful…” – she thought to herself, shaking her head at an unlikely wish…
As she moved on foot, she watched the siege engines that were dragged by others, and marching groups of marauders, beastmen and warriors. For some reason the words she heard from the warrior accompanying her prior to march resurfaced in her mind. “Don’t step out of line and we’ll have no reason to kill you.” Kill. It sounded just like her brother would do, had he managed to get his hands on her. “Such is fate.” – she sighed, realizing she said it out loud the moment after. Fortunately, no one seemed to pay attention to it, as some groups started singing odes, or songs to glorify their patron. She looked around, somewhat expecting to spot a familiar place from the court, but couldn’t see anyone. Even Erling couldn’t be spotted from behind the amount of people marching after him.
The march itself was rather uneventful, at least to the part of army Hekarria was in. Her party marched on silently, right until the stop for camp. Interestingly enough she was provided with separate tent. “Do they fear their Jarl’s retribution?” – she thought as she was setting it up. Upon nearly finishing it, she heard the sound of wings beating against the air and felt bird claws hold onto her shoulder. “Doing well, princess?” – the mutated bird asked in mocking manner.
“Better tell me what scouting did you do.” – she sighed, ignoring the taunt – “After all, it’s too quiet to be good if you ask me.” She’d then finish up her tent, a bit further than the usual distance between the tents of her “entourage”. Meanwhile the bird croaked – “Nothing on the horizon, except the city. Seems like the big guy’s target, no?”
Hekarria just shrugged. “It’s just a plunder for him most likely. But perhaps we can find something interesting for ourselves. Especially if it has Sanctum Maleficarum…” – she pondered, getting into the tent with the bird, to prepare the sleeping bag for herself. “You’re putting too much hope on it, don’t you?” – Adrun croaked, hopping off her shoulder to start cleaning its feathers. That made her look at her own right arm, watching white feathers shine under the light of the lantern. She clenched her hand into the fist, watching feathers tense, then simply laid on the bag, closing her eyes. “That’s the question for tomorrow, as the answer will be there regardless.” – she said, before falling into a slumber.
At the next day the army would reach the city of Sokh. Hekarria’s party was positioned near the farthest wall, guarding one of catapults. The chaos warrior in her party donned his helmet, before stating to her: “You will stay with us, and provide magical support for the catapult.” Hekarria just nodded, gripping her staff firmly, then concentrating, helping the people who manned the catapult concentrate and aim at the wall by mentally linking with them.
The city rang the alarm, indicating that the initial strike force has made it through the gates, just as planned. That was the signal for the catapult to start firing. The stones flew towards the wall, slowly, but steadily into the wall, eventually caving a hole large enough for a regiment of beastmen to pour in. She’ then heard a familiar croak of Adrun, as it landed on her shoulder, making her interrupt her concentration: “Girl, we got problem! Big one!” Before she could ask, two of the marauders from her group, were hit by flying greataxe: first one was literally split in two from his head down to the middle of his chest, the other one flew with it into the catapult, breaking it and burying him in the wreckage, the, only thing that was visible from it was the handle of the axe.
As she looked towards the direction the axe came flying from, she saw a tall man, in blood red armor with bronze adornments. She instantly knew who it was, and why this monster of a man was here. She quikly ran towards the warrior. “He’s after me. If you let me run, you can avoid him to think of…” She couldn’t finish, interrupted by the warrior: “Silence! You, Khornate, by what right you dare to attack followers of Jarl Elring Stormdrinker?!” – he demanded, motioning for remaining marauders to surround the unarmed chosen.
The Chosen just, exclaimed “I’m here for my sister! Now out of the way, whelps.” He stepped forward, and one of marauders rushed to attack him, only to grab his axe taken from him, along with his arm being ripped off, then have his skull split in two by it. Another one that rushed to help his comrade was stopped dead in his tracks by punch that pierced his abdomen. The Khornate just laughed, pulling his fist out together with bloodied entrails, then threw the likely to be already dead body into the third marauder, knocking him off his feet. Fourth one met his end by having his skull fractured into a pulp from a mighty blow of the armored fist.
The Slaaneshi warrior stood near Hekarria, preventing her escape, both watching how the Chosen effortlessly dispatched the rest of the marauders, then moved to grab his axe, pulling it out of remain of the catapult. “Out of my way, wimp. I’m interested only in the magus here.” – he pointed at Hekarria while speaking to the warrior. The warrior exclaimed: “You are attacking Jarl’s property. It is my duty and glory to stop you!” – he boasted, rushing onto the chosen. Hekarria rushed towards the hole in the wall, thinking that it’s the best way to lose her brother, not staying to find out who is victorious.
The city itself was a maze of narrow streets, so Hekarria hoped it won’t be hard to hide, as she brushed past fighting beastmen, marauders, warriors and southlander guards that fought each other. She crossed a corner, hiding behind the wall, as she caught her breath. “I need a plan. And fast.” – she exclaimed, panting – “Don’t think I can run that much.” Before she could continue the thought, wall of the house she hid behind flew apart, revealing the charging chosen, who stopped, raising her axe at her. “Herkarria… I have come to bring an end to you.” – he started slowly advancing towards her – “You can’t run forever from your shame in the eyes of the Blood God.”
Hekarria’s mind raced: “He’s probably warded against magic since he’s chosen… think... think!!” she urged her mind to come up with something. With roar, her brother swung the axe, attempting to cut her down. Fortunately, she dodged, ending up near the outhouse or refuse pile, she couldn’t take time to figure out what it was regardless. “I may not be able to run forever, Wokhan…” – she exclaimed, grabbing the bucket filled with refuse, then threw it into him – “But I do hope I won’t have to run someday.” Judging by the loud roar, the bucket hit its mark, disorienting him, which gave her a chance to escape, so she took it. Unfortunately, the roaring juggernaut of her brother wasn’t that far behind. She turned corners and jumped carts, anything to make the distance between them bigger, but the Chosen didn’t seem to relent. She ran out into a large street, hoping to find some allies to distract him, but only saw Erling with his entourage. She decided not to stop to explain the situation, nor wait for command to stop, diving into the nearby street, narrowly escaping the swing of the axe, that gets stuck in one of the supports of the building. Sadly, Wokhan just slows down a little, tugging it onto himself, which just destroys the support, sending the building crashing onto the ground, collapsing onto the street, and blocking the path to the street she just crossed.
“No help from the Jarl it seems.” – she sighed in her mind, groaning, as the spark of pain cut through her back: the axe managed to scratch her back, ripping through her robes, and tearing them along with leaving a wound on her back, she stumbled, sloppily balancing herself, as she turned the corner, with most of her coat ripping apart completely as it stuck on the spear of the dead guard, leaving the magus only in what was under it. Hekarria noticed, that the streets seem to lead up to one place: the temple of Sigmar, and any attempt to turn would be now pointless.
She threw a cart into Wokhan, making him stumble to get it out of his way, as she ran into the church, running down to the crypt. Once there, she hid behind one of the sarcophagi, panting exhaustively. “Is this the end?” – she thought to herself, as she heard heavy footsteps, trailing down the stairs.
“Your blood trail betrays feeble attempt to hide, sister.” – Wokhan roared, increasing his pace as he followed the drops of blood. “This is the end.” – she thought to herself, closing her eyes to embrace it.
But before it could reach her, the sound of an arrow piercing the armor echoed through the crypt, along with the groan of her brother. “Who dares!?” – he roared, turning around. She didn’t look out, knowing it’d likely spell her doom, only hearing “By the will of Change I send you to the Chaos Wastes.” Her brother stumbled, screaming: “No! You dare?! I will kiiii…” – he couldn’t finish before being teleported. Hekarria just exhaled, slumping into the tomb, just ignoring the bleeding, then she heard: “Come out child, I’m... a friend of sorts.”
She moved her head up from her position, seeing a person, seemingly looking like a beastman, albeit with avian head with beak and different horns, more intricate than those of the gors or ungors. He, or it, continued: “Don’t worry child, he is away.” Hekarria squinted distrustfully: “Who are you and why are you here.” – “I am a being living from the will of Tzeentch and forever indebted to the Lord of Change. My duty today was to send away that champion.” – the beastman replied. She just crossed her arms, groaning as the pain crept back in due to adrenaline rush subsiding, as she waited for him to continue.
The “savior” took out a black book, with Tzeentch insignia inscribed upon it, continuing to speak: “I come bearing another gift. Even two...” – he beckoned her closer. Hekarria understood that the creature was a greater chance to survive than dying to blood loss on her own, thus she moved closer. Her hands reached towards the book, feeling the leather cover with her fingers, as the creature didn’t move it away or try to shove her hands away. “You are entrusted in studying this. If you are clever enough, it will provide all the answers you need… if not… you can burn it, or give it to someone to drive them crazy.”
Hekarria furrowed her brow – “What is this?” – she then opened the book, finding only strange inscriptions, as if someone perverted even more chaos runes. The beastman responded: “A cipher of sorts. It contains a message meant only for your eyes.” – he then extended his hand, starting to cast a spell to close the wound on her back – “And this is my second gift. Remember, Lord of Change is always watching… and he is particularly interested in what happens in the band of misfits you ended up with.” Those were the bird-man, for the lack of the better description, words before he vanished as suddenly as he probably appeared. She closed the book, attempting to place it into the pocket of her robe, only to find the robe got ruined by the wild chase. Realizing it is no longer useful, she just tossed it onto the floor of the crypt, staying in the shirt that was underneath it, heading out.
As she exited the chapel, she saw the aftermath of the battle: Marauders pillaging through what wasn’t burned or destroyed, beastmen eating southlanders – both those dead and those unlucky to be alive still. She took note of the Chaos Warriors heading towards the main square of the city. “I bet a feather from my arm that it’s where the Jarl likely is.” – she said to herself, hearing the familiar beating of wings followed up by a croak – “That was one wild chase, wasn’t it? Did you actually kill the guy?” – Adrun asked, landing onto her feathery arm. Hekarria furrowed her brows – “And you were just watching I take it?” – she asked, continuing – “No, he was sent away by some sorcerous Tzeentian beastman, believe it or not.” – “You’ll have to make the golden-eyed guy believe it. I bet he’d ask questions like ‘What happened to my precious boys that were assigned to keep you in line?’, hah!” – the raven croaked, after attempting imitate Erling, an attempt only the mutated bird found funny. She just responded nothing, heading towards the square, along everyone else. She took note of couple of gazes from marauders directed at her as she passed them, but she just responded them with a firm nod.
“Well, I say I should call it a day before it gets any more eventful…” – she thought to herself, shaking her head at an unlikely wish…