I found this Warhammer Fantasy story I wrote a while back on my computer, felt like sharing.
The fog lay heavily on the ground, creeping over the rocky forsaken land of Nagarthye. It was mid-summer, if it could even be called that, only the numbing heat gave sign in the shadows that never wavered. Dull light filtered through the branches, piercing the fog and occasionally revealing a hand, a foot, a pair of eyes. They had been moving for a few days now but hadn’t made much ground. The traitor Dark Elves of house Uthorin would normally be gone without even a trace, but their prize slowed the pace, and they were unaware that a shadow hunted them.
Kyrodil Heironus could only channel his rage. Allase, his wife, carrying his unborn child, was in the hands of his worst enemy. Killing Dark Elves was in his blood, but this had become something more. Amidst the darkness they had come. Stealing in on the shadows into his land, his home, and he knew the dark purpose for which they had taken her. No blood sacrifice to Khaine would happen this day, only righteous vengeance.
I won’t be late my love, he thought to himself as he picked up a small gem from the leaves. They had been easy to follow, but he cursed their lead. Three days he had tracked them, barely sleeping, running until his body felt it could burst. He had caught them though. He had found them before it was too late.
As he watched their progression he noted several figures, three perhaps four. Amidst the darkness even his keen eyes could not discern their shadow forms. The leader suddenly held up a hand, and like lightning the druchii dispersed. From his perch he watched his beloved’s face turn from fear to hope, and it steeled his nerve. A whistle split the silent night, followed swiftly by another. One Dark Elf fell without a sound as the head of the arrow blasted out the back of his helmet. The second traitor dove for cover and took the deadly missile in the shoulder, the force of it threw him backwards.
Druchii eyes were as keen as any Asur, and a hail of crossbow bolts barraged the tree where he had been. Diving forward he landed on the ground in a roll, coming up with blades drawn and neatly dispatching the wounded raider. Three figures emerged from the woods, with curved blades drawn. He had underestimated them. Another hail of crossbow bolts rained out from the shadows. Asuryan aid me, spinning on his heel the first bolts missed him ripping through his dark cloak. As he regained his footing the vile traitors had closed the distance, desperately fighting he lost ground. A nick here, and a parry there were not enough. His own blood began to flow.
He heard his wife scream his name, and saw two more figures emerge from the wilderness. Everything he had learned failed him at that moment, blindly he flailed out catching his attackers off guard. Driving his head forward he slammed his helmet into a surprised druchii face, shattering bone. Wild desperation driving him on he felled another under a barrage of unfaltering steel. But he had lost his bearings, and the third combatant laid him out with a solid hit to the back of his head. His legs went weak and the world lost focus.
“I told you this wasn’t worth it, Merrik.” Spat one Dark Elf, breathing heavily.
“You wish to deny the sorceresses their tribute?” Merrik replied with bitterness as he reloaded his deadly repeater crossbow. The three elves looked down on the High Elf who had just slain four of their brethren.
“Just kill him and her, and let’s be off.”
“No… if we are to go back empty handed, we are going to make a statement.” Merrik said with a grim tone. “Wake up the Asur scum, I want him to watch this.” As he spoke he drew forth a twisted black dagger.
Rough hands brought him back to consciousness, his hands were bound. Rope? No it was too thick. Wire, he realized as he felt it bight into his skin. Looking up the blood rushed from his face. Before him were the three Dark Elves, one held his wife’s head back with one hand, and a dagger that exuded a presence of evil in the other.
“We had hoped to offer her up as a blood sacrifice to Morathi, a great honor. But now she, and you can simply die in Khaine’s name.” The speaker’s cruel features contorted into laughter as Kyrodil began to struggle, feeling the wire dig into his wrists, and the hands of the other two hold him down.
“No!” He screamed.
“Watch your futility.” With that he dispassionately reached out, and slit her throat. The two elves had to grab fully onto the Shadow Warrior to keep him still as he thrashed and screamed watching the red river of her life flow out of her throat.
“Now it is your turn, brother.” With a dark cry of unnatural rage Kyrodil knocked his captors back, spiraling as he did. Wire cutting into his wrists he brought his hands before him and still twisting, he drew forth one Dark Elves sword, continued his spin and split open the belly of the other. Finishing the turn back to where it started he drove the blade down and into the surprised druchii as his body hit the ground. Merrik panicked, and dropped the dagger, trying desperately to get his crossbow leveled. Kyrodil leaped upon him like an animal. Slamming the Dark Elf bodily against a tree he reached over and around the druchii’s throat with the wire binding his hands.
“No! No!” His further cries were drowned out as the wire cut into his neck, and the blood began to flow down the bark. It was many minutes before Kyrodil released his death grip and reality set back in. Falling to his knees he began to cry, and scream. Emotions raged around him as he looked first to the sky, then his own blood soaked hands, and finally crawled to his wife’s lifeless form. Her perfect features were cold and vacant, like a fine statue; beautiful but not right. Holding her to him he cried, mindless of the blood that smeared himself.
They took her from me. They have taken everything from me. Gently he laid her upon the ground, and surveyed the carnage. “Drink Nagarthye, Drink in the blood of the betrayers. Never again shall you thirst while those that broke you roam free.” Forcing his body to stand he straightened up, and looked out into the shattered distance that he called home, turning his gaze northwards to the sea and beyond. “You shall know fear and pain, loss and anguish, solitude and death.” Slashing his bonds, and retrieving his weapons he set off into the darkness. This band had to have a way out, and those too would feed the land.
Shadow Warrior
Started by
Domine Nox
, Mar 25 2012 10:56 PM
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