[IC] Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

[POOHEAD189]

Three days back were they in the Ubersreik, and Cedric was already missing the sweet Brettonian wine that they'd been serving back at the local Inn. He and his entourage had been lucky gaining passage on one of the barges that led down the River Tuefel. They'd docked on a small port between Aurswald and Stimmigen, Captain Holmmann opting to keep his lads from enjoying yet another city's hospitality and keeping their feet on the ground and continually marching.

It was an old forest path used years ago before the roads had been well maintained and paved for commercial use, but it was still well trodden. The forest had cleared from continual use of marching feet, leaving nothing but a dirt trail wide enough for a wagon, or 5 men walking abreast. All around them the Reikwald loomed around them. Trees as thick as Dwarves and tall as giants towered in the sky, an ominous mist licking the trunks and teasing the vision of the contingent of men now making their way down the path.

"Keep moving!" Cerdic ordered, giving a Reikland swordsman a hard look and a rough push. The man immediately perked up and stepped with more assurance. Usually the Sergeant would blame the soldier, but this mist had everyone's spirits down this day. They'd gotten off the ship only a day previous and it still felt like they had been walking for an eternity. There was something about the forest that was thick and dark. Almost suffocating. That wasn't an excuse for the men however, and if they expected a kind word from him then they could kiss his ass.

There were 30 swordsmen, 20 Halberdiers, 20 riflemen, and over a score of various Mercs scattered throughout the Caravan. Why they needed Mercenaries, or hell, this many troops was beyond him. It was merely a shipment of iron and gunpowder bound for Nuln. The three wagons at the center bumped along the unpaved forest floor, mules letting out groans and snorts. The sound made all the men on edge, for everywhere else the silence was deafening. As eerie as the forest was, he knew trees couldn't drive a sword in his gut. They were in the heart of the empire after all. The man sighed, and knew he was just trying to convince himself. The Reikwald was famous for its beastman population just as many areas in the Empire.

He caught a glimpse of who was leading the front next to Captain Hollman. A towering Warrior Priest of Sigmar strode confidently, his armor thick and his faith as loud as his laugh. Close cropped hair and a powerful chin gave him an easily recognizable face of authority. It was a contrast to his Captain, who looked as slim as a blade.

[Austronaut]

Forests were never comfortable places Hilde thought as she touched her heels to the geldings dappled flank. The horse whickered nervously as it moved alongside the marching men. There was hardly room for it, the trees pressed in close enough to touch. Hilde supposed that is why the Captain had called the few scouts to the front and rear. The hoofs made dull clopping sounds on the damp earth. It had rained recently enough that they didn’t kick up dust, but long enough ago that the road wasn’t a muddy quagmire. Shyalla be praised for small mercies.

The warrior priest, Father Heinrick, turned to glower at her as she approached, his one eye filled with baleful fire.

“You should not be here whore,” he snarled. The captain laid a restraining hand on the priest's shoulder.

“Now is not the time,” he declared in a quiet voice that left no one in doubt that the conversation was over. It had been the captain's decision to allow her along, even though many of the men would have agreed with Heinrick’s assessment. Hilde new better than to open her mouth to argue with the priest. She laid her hand gently along her horses neck as it skittered again.

“Something is wrong,” she declared with sudden certainty. Somewhere behind her a man screamed, his voice tearing the misty forest like a thunderclap.

[POOHEAD189]

The scream was faint, as if it was made just within the cusp of the horrible mist. It echoed off the trees, causing it to seem unreal, like from within some nightmare one had difficulty recalling. Cerdic's eyes steeled, and men muttered in confusion as the young Sergeant stood vigil, trying to garner the source of the cry. He needn't have worried, for a very real crash was heard from behind, which caused the rough and ready soldier to spin. Men scrambled and one cried out in dismay, for something very heavy had hit one of the caravan's wagons.

"Out of the way!" Cerdic ordered, shoving men to the side as he pushed through the throng to stand face to face with the mangled corpse of a swordsman, his unseeing eyes staring straight into Cerdic's. He knew the man, what's more. Richter had been a fair soldier by all accounts. "What..." Cerdic breathed, unable to comprehend the loss for what it was. His instincts kicked in as a defense mechanism almost instantly, and as he turned back towards the mist, he saw something he expected, but wasn't quite prepared for.

An enormous towering creature stood like a nightmarish statue at the edge of the treeline, a great Minotaur-like beastman with hate filled eyes. It's jaws were open, revealing serpent-like fangs and buckets of drool drizzling upon the ground. In its left hand it easily held a double headed axe that not even two men could haul effectively. A horrible lizard-like tongue slithered out of its maw and licked its muzzle, still crimson from the bite it took out of poor Richter.

Behind the bullheaded creature, silhouettes began to materialize within the mist, growing more solidified as they approached with a terrifying slowness. Some were not quite as large as the Minotaur, but were a head taller than the other men, clad in blackiron armor and hefting aloft ornate swords of hellmetal. Chosen warriors of Chaos. To look upon them was a daunting sight, much less the possibility of fighting them.

Between the plate armored warriors, other beastmen began to stream out of the forest's depths and ran hooting and howling towards the empire's caravan. Monsters with the heads of Elks, bears, wolves and goats. They each had various grotesque mutations that showed the stigma of chaos, and they held their crude but brutal weapons high as they charged.

"Form up!" the Captain yelled. One arrow sliced out of the mist and hit Captain Holmmann beneath the armpit, staggering him and causing him to cry out. "By the Hammer's mercy..." Cerdic whispered, before he broke out of his reverie with all of the rage in his heart for such abominations to dare attack an Imperial caravan. "Shield up! Halberds Down!" He roared, unsheathing his broadsword out. Men hustled to obey his orders. "Make ready! Arquebusers!" The riflemen got to their knees and hastened their loaded weapons. "On my mark!"

As the men formed up and began to make a plausible defense, a booming voice was heard from the very front of the line. "Sons of Sigmar!" the Warrior Priest called out, his huge hammer lifted high in one, powerful hand. "For. the. Empire!"
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

The bitter taste of fear filled Hilde’s throat. The arrow that felled Captain Hollerman brushed close enough that she felt the wind of its passage. A great gout of blood sprayed from the Captain’s lips and then soldiers were dragging the stricken man back towards the wagons, around which the soldiers instinctively formed. The great wooden shapes were a bastion of civilization, however illusory.

Hilde looked down the winding forest path. There was just a chance that if she struck her heels to the horse's flanks she might escape the ambush while the beastmen were focused on the other soldiers. Hot disappointment flooded through her mouth as a group of gangling creatures rushed from the trees onto the road in front of her, closing of her escape. The blew a variety of gnarled animal horns, whether signaling or merely for the joy of it, she couldn’t tell.

“Shyalla keep me,” she whispered, more in desperation than in hope. Somewhere down the line of the caravan a man was shouting orders. It seemed to break the spell of surreal terror that gripped the soldiers. The shrieking chaos took on more order and the heavy sound of shields slapping against shields raised a counterpoint to the screams and howls of the enemy.

Sensing that whatever slender hope of salvation there way lay in that direction, she sawed at the regins hauling the reluctant horse around. The animal screamed as an arrow, fletched with filthy crow's feather, struck it in the haunch. Cursing, she hammered the animal's flank with her heals, sending it racing down the trail in a staggering run.

Ahead of her a knot of grotesque beastmen broke the treeline, hacking into the stragglers who had not yet been able to form up. She saw a goatfaced beastman slit the throat of a wounded halberdier and lap the blood gushing down the front of his uniform. A dying Reiklander, Franz, a swordsman whom she had always hated, stabbed the creature through the stomach with a long knife. His face was drawn and she realized he was clutching the squirming masses of his own intestines with one hand.

For a second she thought she would reach the temporary safety of the shield wall, but with a suddenness that was shocking even in the whirl of battle, a great axe crashed down on her steed's neck. A shower of hot liquid sprayed her as the ugly iron weapon bound in the horse's flesh. The wielder was a great minotaur with a snake like tounge. Its mass was sufficient to check even a galloping horse and suddenly she was flying forward through the air. Pain exploded through Hilde’s body as she smashed into the ground, the breath expelling from her chest in a dull whump. For long moments she could do little but gasp for air even as she saw the gigantic minotaur rush towards her. With a desperate yelp she pulled a pistol from her belt, pulled back the hammer and fired. The harsh crack-pop of the weapon seemed a faded and washed out thing in the screaming confusion of the battle, but the minotaurs knee exploded in a gout of blood and cartilage. With an oddly bovine scream the beast toppled to the ground, the thud of its impact shaking leaves from the trees. Still it dragged itself towards the defenders intent on murder and feeding.

“Shayalla,” Hilde moaned and started to crawl towards the wagons, her mind unable to even consider reloading the weapon.

A black armored hand reached down and seized her by the back of the neck, lifting her into the air like a sack of grain. The chaos warrior laughed like mountains cracking, holding her aloft like a trophy. He called something in his vile language which, thankfully, she didn’t understand. Then he spoke a single word she did recognise. Slaanesh. The blasphemous name of the Chaos Prince of Pleasure. Hilde’s mind seemed to flee her body, though she felt herself screaming. She was back in the covenant, the night the armed men had come. She was praying to Shyalla for mercy, but no mercy came, not that night, or for many more nights until Dieter and his pistoliers had caught the northmen and their captives on the march.

Time seemed to elongate and she was staring down at the intricately designed black armor, its seductive carved runes made her eyes water, it's brass adornments grotesque and baroque. She could even smell the odd musky perfume of the warrior, something like incense mixed with blood and other, less identifiable scents. Then the warrior suddenly staggered back, half a dozen plate sized dents appearing in his armor and he fell to his knees, his grip slackening. Something, not blood, leaked from the joints of his armor. The beast men around the warrior fell like mown wheat, punched from their feet as if by invisible fists.

Her knees hit the ground with a painful crunch and she was suddenly scrambling towards the cloud of stinking smoke around the handgunners. One of the soldiers reached forward and grabbed her as she neared, hauling her into the line of men. He was a slightly older man with a scarred face. She had seen him around but not spoken more than a few words to him.

“There are a dozen Chaos warriors back in the woods,” she shouted, instinctively raising her voice around the firearms. She pulled her second pistol from her belt and pulled back the hammer.

“And thank you!”

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

"Don't mention it." he replied, his voice strong but hoarse from the smoke of the surrounding weapons. Unnatural abominations were impaled upon the halberds that were laid down to halt their mass advance. Those that slipped by like snakes were engaged by the swordsmen. The melee was thick with screams and blood. An axe spun out of the fray and embedded itself into the head of a rifleman, the impact and area of the hit caused the newly made corpse to spasm and send its weapon flying upwards.

Cerdic stuck his broadsword blade into the ground and caught the falling weapon. He readied it and placed the butt of the weapon on its shoulder and fired into the helmet of an approaching Chaos warrior, causing the armored heretic to spasm and buck, but gather itself up once more, slowly lifting its fallen sword from the ground. Cerdic threw the gun at the warrior, ripped his sword out of the ground and hewed into its neck before it could collect itself, hacking thrice before the blackiron foe fell.

He blocked a scimitar slash from an Elk headed beastman with an underhanded parry, kicked its leg and made it stagger before driving his blade into its gut. Anger was across his visage, and he pushed forward with his considerable weight, sending the beastman careening back into its approaching fellows, bleeding to death. All around the tumult of battle raged. Beside him, this Pistolier woman made a good account of herself it seemed, firing with accuracy and holding her sword well.

Unbeknownst to Cerdic, Hilde suddenly received a small tug at her trouser legging. It wasn't a small mutant or a beastman. It was a diminutive man wearing the robes and attire of a learned professor. He had an arrow in his gut and desperation in his eyes. "Please..." he wheezed, shakily reaching into his shirt and revealing a vial of what looked to be a curious silver gunpowder. "Take it...this...must make it t-to Nuln...give it to the Countess...."

Cerdic withdrew his blade out of an Ungor's chest, kicking the flailing thing back, hacking off a smaller mutant's head with his next swing. Swordsmen hacked and stabbed while Halberdiers chopped and gave fine thrusts. Smoke and loud cracks still filled the air, and in the distance a shining hammer could be seen within the crowd of bodies rising up, sewing death wherever its strokes fell. But Cerdic knew, despite his faith in Sigmar, that this would not end the way they needed it to...
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Hilde closed the man’s eyes with the reflective gentleness she had learned in years of caring for the sick and dying. She tucked the strange flask into a pouch but had more pressing concerns than worrying about carrying out the last wish of a dying man.

Arrows buzzed spitefully by, smacking into shields and bodies. The casulties were starting to mount, wounded and dying soldiers were propped against the wheels of the wagon, calling out to Sigmar or some other god to save them. The only gods watching this place were dark and merciless. Hilde’s lips were blackened from biting cartridges and her mouth was dry as Araby from the saltpeter.

A rush of beastmen charged into the tightly packed soldiers, many of them frothing at the mouth with ecstatic frenzy. One of the dog headed brutes cut down two halberdiers with a swipe of what must have once been a scythe. The sergeant beside her cut it down with a vicious backhanded swipe. Another horror raised a great boarspear and drove it at the sergeants side. Hilde leveled her pistol and fired, the beast roared and fell back, the spear falling from its smashed bloody shoulder. She pulled another cartige from her pouch and bit the top off the waxed paper cylinder before pouring powder into the barrel of her pistol. She spat the ball into the barrel and rammed it home with the short brass rod.

Before she could prime the weapon a sudden hush fell over the battlefield. The tide of beastmen slacked for a moment, leaving only the baying and screaming wounded. The seargent beside her immedately began thrusting his sword into the wounded beastmen with methodical savagery. Hilde gasped for breath and finished reloading her weapon.

A chaos warrior stepped from the treeline. He was larger than the others, his armor glistened with varicolured runes. He carried a great longsword that seemed to mist or smoke. A weird warbling cry echoed from his throat and it took Hilde a moment to realise that the man was laughing. The beastman added their own mocking brays to the hellish sound.

“Sigmar!” came a great warcry that seemed to echo through the forest.

“Sigmar and the Empire!” the warrior priest crashed from the treeline, swinging his hammer in a glittering silver arc at the reavers head. The heretic moved like quicksilver, seeming to flow away from the blow effortlessly. Both beastmen and Imperials watched the duel unfold in a kind of paralysis. The chaos warrior moved like a striking snake but somehow the priest caught the blow on the haft of his hammer, the enchanted sword lifting a long sliver of oak away from the haft. The priest responded by slamming the studded end of his hammer into the heretic’s stomach. The man didn’t even flinch. Hilde raised her pistol with shaking hand, the barrel wavering, her mind seemed to rebel against attacking the warrior, every instinct in her mind screamed at her not to be noticed. Hatred and terror boiled in her stomach like fire. The warrior struck like lightning, ramming his sword through the priest's throat, nearly decapitating the Sigmarite.

“No!” the cry came up from a dozen throats but the roar of beastmen drowned out the Imperials. Hilde closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cerdic saw the hopes of he and his men die with the Sigmarite. He let out a rasping breath from the thick air and the exertion of ramming his large sword into enemy mail and hide. His eyes bespoke a resignation of defeat, but a fierceness that he wouldn't go down without dragging a few of these chaos spawn to hell with him. Beside him, the willowy Pistolier held her gun at the ready toward the Chaos leader, and the crack of her pistol went off as she fired.

The bullet punched into the warrior's neck, staggering it for a moment. It let out a hoarse and croaking chuckle, before drawing itself up again. "You have what I need, Imperial bitch." the leader said, its voice deathly calm, but echoing across the trees with utter clarity. Cerdic's eyes narrowed in confusion, but whatever was happening, this woman had saved his life. He'd help her live a bit longer. If she were a man he'd say she had brass balls.

With one strong arm, he grabbed her under the arm and hauled her atop one of the wagons for her to fall on her rump roughly. Cerdic raised his sword and eyed the champion, before feeling a sudden jerk from where he stood. It seemed the mules had had enough of this insanity.

They bucked and sped forward, and it was all Cerdic Becker could do to not fall out onto the dirt path. "Hold on!" he cried to the woman. The mules kicked and trampled a few of the lesser mutants, blood soaking their pelts, before charging passed the line of broken and defeated Imperials and making its way further into the forest. Roars and baying could be heard behind them, and the Chaos Champion pointed at the fleeing wagon. Despite this, the beastman were too enamored with bloodlust to listen, and they fell upon the last vestiges of Halberdiers and Swordsman, hacking them apart mercilessly before Hilde and Cerdic's eyes.

It was barely a minute or two before they hit a large root within the road, sending them both leaping upwards to find no purchaes atop the wagon anymore, sliding off to hit the dirt in rough rolls that send dust and debris flying around them.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Hilde lay upon the dirt of the trail as the wagon clattered away. The mules were terrified and couldn’t slow now if they wanted to. She needed water so badly she physically ached, in the distance she could hear the screams of the dying and the triumphant baying of the beastmen, their improvised horns blasting out their triumphant feasting cries.

It took her a moment to admit she was really alive, though for how much longer remained in serious doubt. The chaos warriors voice seemed to bore into her soul and she wanted to curl up on the soft earth and weep. Another part of her brain screamed that if she stayed here they would catch her again and their would be no Dieter to save her from their sport. With an effort of will she forced herself to her feet.

“We have to get out of here,” she cried, her voice cracked in her bone dry throat but she didn’t have a waterskin. The grizzled soldier was already pulling himself up from the dirt.

“The road or the woods?” she asked the Sergeant in indecision.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Balgar the Demonhearted stalked amidst the carnage like a vengeful shade. The Changer had led him to this place, told him of the need to recover the strange powder. He had read the fates in the entrails of an albino beastman under the full moons and it had bought him here. And these weak servants had failed him. He struck one with the flat of his sword as it gorged itself on the entrails of a dead hand gunner. The beast recoiled like a whipped dog, whimpering and scuttling backwards. His warriors were bringing some order to the feasting beastmen but it was taking time.

There was something about the scarred imperial who had helped the girl that bothered the chaos warrior. His skin, or what passed for skin beneath the armor, prickled as though his Dark Patron wanted to tell him something. Warn him of something? Surely the soldier was just a man like the many hundreds he had slaughtered. When there was time he would ask the fire.

“A fine dance,” came a silky smooth voice. Balgar turned to see Crovendif, now the leader of the small Slaaneshi contingent after his late and unlamented master's death. Balgar hated Slaanesh’s worshipers, their unchanging focus on their own gratification was anathema to the followers of the Changer. Still he needed Crovendif and his warriors if he were to run down his quarry.

“Get your warriors after the two survivors,” Balgar ordered, nearly taking the snarl out of his voice. Crovendiff didn’t change his posture but somehow Balgar knew that the other warrior was amused.

“Let us talk payment first,” Corvendif countered in a smoothly reasonable tone.

“We already agreed on payment, the valley of the unshriven was to be opened to your master,” Balgar replied coldly. There was some movement now that the beastmen had been driven away from the half devoured dead, still slow if he hoped to run down the pair of escapees. Crovendiff examined his gorgeously bejeweled gauntlets as if expecting to find a flaw.

“That was with Calash and Calash is with the Dark Prince now, he doesn't have any need to enter the valley,” the Slaaneshi countered, his voice thick with ironic amusement.

“What do you want,” Balgar demanded, hefting his sword in unspoken threat.

“The girl,” Crovendif demanded, “Alive, she has unfinished business with the Dark Prince.”
Balgar began to laugh as the last of the wounded were butchered in the blood stained dirt.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

The Imperial Sergeant's eyes opened, his vision blurred from hitting the dirt as hard as he imagined Richter had hit the wagon. It wouldn't have mattered if his eyes could see perfectly, for all he saw was the dirt road he was currently tasting, and his mottled hair. His body ached, but with a stubborness a Dwarf would be proud of, he pushed off the ground and spat out the earth of the road. Somehow, his sword was still sheathed at his side. Thank Sigmar for small mercies. If only he'd take care of the bigger ones.

He had no time to focus on the good men that had just been butchred, and the wagon faded into the Reikwald's depths in the background. “We have to get out of here," a hoarse, feminine voice said to his side. Oh right, by Sigmar. Hitting the dirt had almost made him forget this woman was with him. He hoped she had more shot in her pistols. He doubted they had enough time to make it anywhere without being overrun.

“The road or the woods?” she asked. Dirt and blood caked his face and Reikland tabard, giving him a look that was nearly as feral as some of the Beastman they had just encountered. "South." he said, nodding to his left and already moving in that direction. "The Reikwald ends in about 50 miles that way, if we're where I think we are. Past that are foothills and farmland. Dunkelburg is another 50 miles after that."

With that, he kept his mouth shut and his jaw clenched as they began to run, wading past the huge trunks of the towering trees and entering the realm mutants called 'home.' Their following journey was utterly dreadful to any sane man. The mist obscured their vision as tree roots threatened to trip them up and yank them into their early graves. It was less than an hour later, their limbs already weary from being in constant motion, that they heard the first inhuman cries of mutants and Beastman. Cerdic slammed his back against a huge Ash tree, gasping for air through his teeth. He motioned for her to join him quickly with his hand.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Hilde’s muscle burned from their paniced flight. Small cuts and scrapes crisscrossed her arms from breaking falls and brushing through the dense vegetation. The trees seemed to stretch to the sky blocking the few feeble rays that made it through the mist. How the sergeant kept any kind of direction was beyond her, perhaps he was as lost as she was.

When the bays can howls became evident behind them she felt her heart sink with dispair. Intellectually she knew that their was practically no chance of outrunning the beastmen, fleet of hoof and born to the forest, but the confirmation of that fact still struck her like a blow. The soldier grabbed her and pulled her against the bole of one of the great trees. For a moment she worried that he had seen a pursuer or ambush but she realised that he judged further flight to be useless. It was the first quiet or rest they had enjoyed since the ambush on the forest road.

“Back at the wagons,” she gasped, cursing that her waterskin had been lost with her horse, “That old man the Captain was talking to gave me something. Said it was vital it get to the Countess in Nuln.”

She fished the strange silvery flask from her pouch, mildly surprised that she hadn’t lost it crashing through thickets and down the narrow gullys of the Riekwald.

“Do you think we should destroy it before…” she trailed off unwilling to finish the thought. She looked down at her pistol, wondering if it might be wiser to save one of the remaining shots for herself rather than be hacked to pieces by their animalistic pursuers. She dragged her mind away from that bleak thought.

“I am Hilde, and thank you for saving me back there,” she declared with the formality of a funeral dirge.

[POOHEAD189]

The shining silver substance in the vial shined off Hilde's pupils. It gave off a very faint, eerie glow that couldn't even illuminate the shadow of the tree they leaned against. The rough and ready soldier eyed the thing, soaking in what she had just told him and letting it filter into his mind as he began to think. "“I am Hilde, and thank you for saving me back there," she said, the hopelessness in her voice evident. This close together, they could each feel the heated breath of the other. "Cerdic." was all he said, only giving her a glance between his constant vigil of the surrounding area.

He felt like they were out in the open, waiting to be slaughtered. There weren't even any other trees close enough to be completely visible in the obscuring mist. Just open ground with patches of grass, at least 10 feet around in all directions, save the tree they were pressed against. No branches low enough to grab either. He clenched his jaw, the coarse 5'oclock shadow on his neck roiling as he swallowed. "By Sigmar's hammer, we're not going to give up. And if you decide you do, then I'll take the thing and run. But these Chaos Spawn slaughtered my men. I'll be damned before I give them the satisfaction of my surrender."

Almost as if on cue, a baying roar sounded just out of their line of sight, directly before them. Heavy footsteps followed, and a Beastman with the head of a goat came charging out, mist trailing off its powerful shoulders. It held two wicked maces, and a necklace of still-bleeding human ears hung around its furred neck. The sight would be daunting to most, but it only made Cerdic angrier. They were the ears of his comrades! He pushed off the tree and ripped his sword out of its scabbard, meeting the Beastman at the center of the small, cursed glade. Other monstrosities trailed behind it, but before him the sergeant only saw this one.

He halted just before their weapons hit, letting the first mace fly wild before parrying the second one, pressing his offhand against the flat of his blade to provide extra strength to the block. With surprising subtlety, he slid the blade down the Mace's haft and shoved the point into the creature's side. It let out a pitiful, baying cry before he withdrew his blade, and decapitated the Beastman.

More and more began to pour out of the forest, and it suddenly looked so utterly hopeless for Cerdic and Hilde, before Sigmar decided to give them the one blessing that they needed most. The heavy footfalls of the charging Beastman were drowned out by the thundering sound of hooves from behind them, and the next Ungor that was to strike at Cerdic was impaled upon a well crafted Lance wielded by what appeared to be a Knight in full plate armor. Suddenly horses began to whinny and men cried out warcries as a contingent of heavy cavalry slammed into the horde of attackers and rode them over like so much vermin.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

There were many stories in the annals of the Empire about the heroic charges of the Reiksguard. Hilde had read some as a girl and more in the convent. Illicit manuscripts were a common item of contraband among girls who found their calling for less than religious reasons, but to read about a thing, and to see it, were two very different experiences.

The sheer mass of armored men on horseback could not be conceived of, glancing blows from the big armored destriers smashed beastmen to piles of blood and bones. The snapping of lances was like lightning, showering the battlefield with splinters and crimson droplets. Hilde saw a plate armored horse rear up and smash the ribcage of a horse faced monstrosity to ruin.
The beast men were in a ragged pursuit rather than in anything that resembled ranks and the knights went through them like wind through the grain. Swords and axes flashed in the dull light. Voices shrieked warcries mad inarticulate by closed plate helmets. Hilde pressed herself against the tree, a pistol in each hand. She wished Cedric had not charged off like a damned melodrama hero. It seemed just as likely that he would be ridden down by accident than that he would be saved.

As quickly as it had begun it was over, the beasts had far outpaced their armored warriors and were no match for the knights. Those that could turned and fled into the thicker trees where pursuit would be impossible. A beastman's first instinct was to find safety in the dark forests of the world. Hilde quickly tucked the silver flask back into her pouch and tied it shut. Her mind raced, trying to adjust to the fact that she wasn’t going to be slaughtered and eaten, or worse.
Before she could make much sense of it an armored figure loomed out of the mist. She instinctively swung her pistol to bear before realising that the figure was mounted on a great horse and his armor was embossed with the flaming hammer of Sigmar. He leveled his sword at her before judging her to be a friend.

“Please,” she croaked holding her hands in the air, “Water..”

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cerdic was hauled to his feet by two Knights, the man slick with the blood of mutants and Beastman. They got him to his feet with a none-too gentle yank, but he didn't care. They were allies at the moment, as far as he was concerned. The Knight astride his powerful warhorse held his sword pointed towards Hilde a moment longer, before roaring an order for his men to clear the area for any more monsters. He sheathed his unbloodied sword, and lifted his Sallet helmet to reveal a handsome, albeit aging face. His powerful beard had refined streaks of silver to accentuate the black of his hair. "Commander Gilbrecht Egling of the Order of the Red Sun, at your service." he said, his voice cultured.

Cerdic was pushed out into the open to stagger beside Hilde, his breath coming in rasps and his face still streaked with filth. "Sergeant Cerdic." the man said, still catching his breath. "We were with a caravan of troops that were ransacked by Chaos spawn. Not just these Beastman either. There were demon champions with them." The news, coupled with Hilde's begging for water, had Gilbrecht's eyes widen. "Get them up on the horses. We ride back for Castle Geweiht!" he called out, and soon shouts began to fill the air as the men who had circled the tree line fell back into formation. The Commander took Hilde himself, hauling her up upon his charger. "Fear not m'lady, we'll get you some food and water post haste." His next words were powerful. "We ride!"

The Reikland Knights began their gallop, wading through the forest with surprising accuracy and speed. It was barely an hour later when they burst out of the mist like terrifying apparitions on Geheimnisnacht. Before them was a classic stone Caslte nestled into the side of a stout, tree covered mountain. The walls were thick and taller than two horsemen stacked atop one another. Patrols strode to and from behind the wall's parapets, and one man called out that the Commander and his Knights were approaching. The Gates began to open inexorably as men pushed with all of their might.

The horsemen trotted in, and halted in the small courtyard. It was a place of dirt and haystacks, with a small armory and smith to the back left, and various doors lined the inner walls that led into the halls of the fortress. "Water!" Gilbrecht cried out. "Fetch some water!" As he called, there was a peasant woman already hustling over with a ladle of clear water, handing it to Hilde. Cerdic and the Knight he rode with almost tumbled off the horse, the Sergeant was so exhausted. A few of the knights laughed at the spectacle, but the one he rode in with cursed him for a fool and a churl.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Conversation was difficult during the ride. Commander Egling sat Hilde infront of him on his powerful warhorse. If the beast minded the extra weight it showed no sign during the gallop. Hilde found the position uncomfortable, the knight’s arms encircled her waist which made it impossible for her to use her weapons. Given the choice between discomfort and spending the night in the forest with Shyalla knew what she was happy enough to be carried like a sack of grain.

“I said did that … soldier assault you my lady?” Hilde blinked she had not realised the Knight had been speaking and he was clearly repeating himself. Even once the words registered they were so absurd it took her a moment to make sense of them.

“What? Uh no, he saved me, back at the ambush,” she explained as the terrain forced a brief slowing in the punishing pace.

“Ah,” Egling muttered non comittally. Hilde thought she understood, it was unusual for a woman to carry weapons in the empire and any woman alone in the company of soldiers might rightfully be concerned.

“Captain Hollerman, Claus Hollerman, hired me on as a scout six months ago,” she explained. Shyalla grant that Claus had died of his wounds before the beastmen overran the caravan. He had been a good officer and hadn’t held her gender against her like many of his men. He always gave her the impression that he wished she would do something else but was happy to have her if she insisted on playing at being a soldier.

“So those weapons are yours?” the knight asked. There was a definite hint of disapproval in his voice. Hilde chose to offer no response because at that moment they broke through the fog and cantered into the castle the knight had spoken of. It had the look of a place that had been well built, a long time ago, and recently repaired, the thatch on the outbuildings was very fresh and the equipment she could see was in fine condition.

Egling called for water and a pock marked peasant woman appeared with a wooden ladle. Hilde drank greedily and then wriggled free of the surprised knight’s grip. Her legs flexed unsteadily beneath her as she half staggered across the courtyard to a large wooden bucket that had been drawn from the nearby well. Without ceremony she plunged her head into the bucket drinking greedily and letting the water sluice away the blood dirt and powder residue. She felt her dry lips crack and knew they would be bleeding tomorrow if she didn’t find beeswax. Only once it felt like her belly would burst did she lift her head from the bucket, letting the water run down her neck and body, her sodden hair clinging to her neck.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cerdic was half on his knees, pushing himself up off the ground unsteadily. He swayed and nearly swooned, before pointing to the peasant woman to fetch him some water as well with a rough order. He had quite the barbaric look about him, and the woman skittered over to follow his request, much to the chagrin of Gilbrecht, who eyed the woman murderously. As she hustled over to the water, she passed by a soaking Hilde and fetched a bucket.

A man richly dressed with the fashionable clothes of a scribe strolled out of one of the back doors. He carried a quill and parchment with the same sense of duty as a man might wield a sword, his nose up in the air for all to gaze upon. "Herr Garmmenn" Commander Egling said, dismounting his horse. A ruddy faced young squire who looked normal in every way save him missing one arm, was already leading the charger away with his remaining hand. "Report. What has she found about the cargo?"

The man halted, and haughtily eyed a dripping Hilde and Cerdic who was currently guzzling a bucket of water, soaking his broad chest as half of the bucket's contents spilled down his body. "Speak!" Gilbrecht ordered, drawing Vitus Garmmen's gaze back to his superior officer. "My Lord, it seems the...specimens are healthy, and the time is almost nigh. However, there are a few complications."

"Get the witch. Meet me in the great hall within the hour." he said, his hands behind his back and his armored chest out. "Yes, my Lord." the scribe said, giving a bow before making his way back inside. The Commander turned and waved to Cerdic. "See to it this...Imperial soldier is given food and a bed." he ordered. Two servant men hustled out and motioned for Cerdic to follow. He gave a glance to Hilde, and then dropped the bucket unceremoniously, following in their footsteps.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

The knight commander jerked his head at Hilde in a preumptory gesture that she should follow. Had the man said something about a witch? Or a cargo? She frowned, judging by the ornamentation on the armor the Order of the Red Heart was a Sigmarite order. She had tended the wounds of the Brothers of the Firey Heart more than once and she knew the look of them. Of course those knights hadn’t been there when she and her sisters had needed their protection. She shook the stray thought away, the point was that Sigmarites had notoriously little tolerance for the wizards of the Imperial College, and even less for their wild heretical cousins. It was possible she had simply misheard of course.

“My Lady?” Gilbrecht asked, politely yet firmly. Obidently she lowered the bucket to the ground and followed the knight. It didn’t seem appropriate to correct the man about her rank, her father had been a wealthy burger who had married a ruined noblewoman. Her father had gained the ancient but empty title and her mother had avoided the gutter but it wasn’t exactly a heraldry that would have done for the Imperial Court.

Gilbrecht led her through the main hall with deliberate haste. There was some excitment there, people striding back and forth purposfully but she was whisked out of the room before she could adsorb much of it. THey went through several smaller chambers until they arrived at a great kitchen. A stout woman in late middle age looked up from a cauldron of stew which she presumed was the garrisons dinner. The cook wore a bloody apron stained with days of food scraps. She dropped into a quick curtsey when she realised the lord of the castle was calling.

“Elizabet, this is Lady…” the knight trailed off realising that he hadn’t been properly introduced in all the confusion.

“Von Strashiem,” Hilde supplied helpfully, “Hilde Von Strashiem.”

“Lady Von Strashiem,” Gilbrecht agreed.

“Take her upstairs, feed her bathe her and dress her appropriately, I will see to her after dinner.”

“Yes Milord,” the woman snapped, her eyes sliding sideways to Hilde with an expression of disapproval for her mannish clothes and filthy state. Hilde flushed with anger at being so cavalierly disposed off but Gilbrecht was already striding from the room. The cook put both hands on her hips.

“We don’t need the likes of you in a Sigmar fearing keep,” she declared sourly.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

Cerdic found himself in a surprisingly well furnished room. He could tell off the bat that this Commander Egling thought very little of him. He supposed that there were no quarters for someone the man might particularly disdain, and at the end of the day, he couldn't dishonor himself by making a fellow Imperial sleep on hay without food or water.

It took very little time to be provided with some mutton, and he began eating it as soon as he had it in his hands. "Thank you, frauelin" he said to the servant woman, who didn't answer him. She simply hastened out of the room and left him to his own devices. He ate heartily, before wiping his face and mouth with a cloth they had provided for him. He grunted, and then sighed, extremely weary from all that had happened. The bed under his rump felt soft and inviting.

The Sergeant decided he would take a small nap, but not before he found the Commander again and let him know the true danger that was out there. He pushed out of his room, and stalked down the hallway, passing by 2 Men-At-Arms walking side by side. He didn't know the layout of the castle very well, but from how it looked outside, as long as he turned right he'd make it close to the great hall. And by Sigmar he was right. But he didn't expect to see a woman in the great chamber.
@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Isolde, sometime apprentice of the Golden College,, watched the men who ringed the great chamber with covert interest. As always when she was let out, there were six hard faced soldiers watching her. None of them had pistols drawn but all carried the black powder weapons on their belts. Any attempt to flee would prove instantly fatal. Not that staying here was likely to be conducive to a long life either of course.

The scribe, whose name she had either forgotten or never leaned cleared his throat.

“Well witch?” he asked coldly. She withdrew her hands from the ornately carved box and their precious content. Isolde was a small woman with raven black hair, a beauty some would say, but for all her erudition she was no warrior. She didn’t see a way out of her predicament. What would they do if she told them thing weren’t fine? Nothing good certainly.

“It is as you hope,” she said austerely. The scribe smiled his pale smile.

“Then you will be able to complete your ritual?” he pressed. Isolde nodded.

“Two nights from now.” The scribe didn’t like that.

“Why not tonight witch? Do you seek to delay our Lord’s glory?!” the scribe screamed, spittle flying from the corner of his mouth. He raised a hand as if to strike her. Gilbrect, caught the scribes arm in mid strike. The knight had shed his armor and was now dressed in an austere woollen tunic with a heart embodied in the centre in red thread.

“Now now Thomaz, no doubt madame Isolde has her reasons,” he said with a calmness that belied the steel in the statement.

“I need to wait for the aethers to be in proper conjunction, with Morslieb in the quadrant that it is in…”

Gilbrecht waved her to silence with a shudder. He made a sign to ward off evil as she knew he would at the mention of the chaos moon.

Gilbrecht picked up a small brass shackle from the large table and fastened it around Isolde’s wrist. The winds of magic guttered to nothing as the cold metal touched her skin. How they had come by such a thing she didn’t know but she couldn’t light a candle with magic while it bound her.

Cold despair filled her. She had hoped that they would get careless or make some mistake. She was under no illusion about what would happen to her when they completed their insane plan. Both success and failure marked the way to an early grave. Probably via a painful and incendiary ceremony in the courtyard.

Just as they were about to lead her away a soldier entered from one of the side doors. At first she took him as another of Sir Gilbrecht’s lackeys but the sudden and hostile response from the other soldiers gave her pause. The two Sigmarites closest to the interloper strode towards the man, not drawing weapons but clearly less than impressed at his intrusion.

Isolde seized her chance.

“Reiner?!” she cried with counterfeit delight and rushed across the room to the newcomer. Both Gilbrecht and his men were caught by surprise. The were unwilling to simply shoot her down, not so close to the end. She threw her arms around Cedric neck, her white dress brushing against him. The man looked shocked, as well he might.

“Reiner, it is so good to see you again!” she exclaimed.

@POOHEAD189

[POOHEAD189]

The scarred, albeit still somewhat youthful, sergeant was completely caught unawares by many things. He had not thought to see Gilbrecht and a small group of men guarding over a woman like she was some cultist ripe for execution. He had thought that they would also still be in their armor from having just slaughtered Beastman. These and of course, the charming woman running over to embrace him like they were lost lovers, or family. His mouth moved before his mind could.

"By Sigmar it's good to see you." he breathed, loud enough for the Commander and his men to hear. Immediately he regretted the words. He knew he held no love for Lord Egling or his men. Their timely intervention in the forest was done for themselves, and only Hilde had been shown any kind of kindness since then. However, deceiving them in their own castle was something only the very foolish would do.

That's me. The very foolish. Cerdic pushed her to arms length, looking her up and down. He'd not been held by a woman in quite awhile, and he had to admit he would have been a bit friendlier to Hilde as well if they had met in a tavern instead of a bloodbath. "You've not aged a day!" he announced, giving a smile. "This was the last place I expected to see you."

---

Balgar the Demonhearted sat within his tent, the fabric around him whirled with a multitude of colors and visions that would drive a man insane if he dared to look upon it for any length of time. The armored champion looked down at the miserable, pitiful Ungor that shuddered beneath his gaze. The news that they had not retrieved the woman, man, or powder was not something he was pleased with. Behind the sniveling creature, Crovendif the Indulgent moaned lightly from what he knew would come next.

The great Chosen of Tzeentch stood up off of his skull of bones and gazed down at the Ungor through his magnificent helm, the creature paralyzed with fear. So dumbstruck by the sight of meeting the Chosen eye to eye that it did not feel the pain of having its body sheared in half by the ethereal blade. A light cackle from Crovendif followed the wet thump of the corpse hitting the ground.

"Imperial Knights." he said with contempt. "Pretenders. Take all of your followers, and whatever Beastmen you can find, Crovendif. Ransack and kill whomever you will. Do as you do, however... Leave the woman alive for me to question. After that you can have her for yourself."

"And the man?" the Slaneesh worshiper asked, barely contained ecstacy in his voice from the prospect of having Hilde in his grasp. A stark contrast to Balgar's calm reserve. "Make sure he is dead."

@Austronaut

[Austronaut]

Isolde felt a surge of triumph froze. Gilbrecht didn’t quite lose his cultured, superior smile but it seemed to freeze on his face like a ricktus. The other men in the room also tensed, only the scribe, Thomaz, seemed capable of action. The slender man took a step towards Cedric, although what he hoped to accomplish was a mystery. Gilbrecht held out a restraining arm.

“Reiner? I thought your name was Cedric?” the commander asked, his voice deceptively calm. Isolde nodded enthusiastically, thanking Ranald for the stupidity of knights.

“Reiner Cedric,” she interjected, “We spent some time together in Ubersreik.” She completed the vague account, providing all the information before anyone had a chance to ask further questions. She coughed into her fist as though covering an embarrassing moral situation.

“I don’t suppose my instructors would be too pleased to discover that little secret,” she concluded making the statement into an unverifiable lie. Gilbrecht seemed snap back into action.

“Ah, well perhaps you can renew the acquaintance,” he began.

“Perhaps over dinner,” Isolde interjected yet again, enjoying the look of frustration on the knight’s face. She felt the prick of something sharp against her back and realised that Thomaz had moved around behind her and was pressing a small knife against her back, It was concealed from Cedric’s view and its message was clear.

“Perhaps,” Gilbrecht declared, noncommittally.

“But first I must discuss the beastmen who were hunting your friend earlier today, please join me on the battlements Seargent.” It was not a request.

@POOHEAD189