Austronaut

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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

Ologies: A Study of Arcane Specialists {Paranormal Investigations and more}

Maybe Lenya will host a dinner party

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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.

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

I've started a list of characters as well, feel free to add and delete as you need.
@POOHEAD189

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

No he drew back to strike and then Hilde shot him @POOHEAD189

Blood, Steel, and Gunpowder (Austronaut & POOHEAD189)

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