Happy Birthday, DeathbyTouch
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POV of Katarin Bokha
Pflugzeit -4-5-2493
"Khazukan Kazakit-HA!... Khazukan Kazakit-HA!... Khazukan Kazakit-HA!"The dwarfs roared their battle cry, and the very mountains shook beneath the charge of the greenskins.
They had only just seen us, and already they were pouring down in waves, driven by a madness for blood that nothing could restrain.
I have lived through wars in the frozen north, seen horrors that would freeze the heart of any man… yet what I saw here was beyond anything I had known. This was not the Empire I had imagined—a fractured realm weighed down by politics and old debts. No, before me stood a giant, awakened from slumber. Columns of troops stretched farther than the eye could see, banners whipping in the wind, drums thundering like the heartbeat of a single, united people.
It was impossible not to feel the weight of what sustained this host. It was not only lords and generals, nor the endless ranks of armed men. What marched at my side was faith itself—faith given flesh in their human god, Sigmar. The cult had pulled unseen strings, rousing tens of thousands, binding them under one purpose. And beside that tide, my betrothed's army advanced, steady and unyielding, ready for the clash.
Even this one host dwarfed all Kislev could raise, no matter how desperate the levy. Perhaps, if Praag and Erengrad emptied their streets, we might match the numbers, but equipping them? Feeding them? Impossible. My grandfather left us much, and my father dreams of restoring Kislev's glory with it, yet our coffers are thin, stretched like ice in spring. Meanwhile the Empire brings forth more than sixty thousand soldiers, and still they call upon the dwarfs to fight beside them.
But it was not just the numbers that shook me—it was the weapons. Where we still cling to spears and bows to hold back the northern hordes, the Empire arms tens of thousands with muskets, each more finely crafted than anything I have seen. They had mountains of smokeless powder, and endless rows of cannons already unlimbered on the hills, aimed at the slopes where the greenskins came rushing down.
The first battery fired, and the blast nearly deafened my horses. Then a strange contraption, a whirring machine, spat fire without pause. One soldier turned a crank while another fed it with ammunition, and in seconds it poured a storm of lead into the green tide. I remembered those weapons—I had seen dozens of them across the river, when Albrecht and father negotiated. If they had been unleashed then… Kislev would have drowned in blood.
Orcs and goblins tumbled by the hundreds, rolling down the slopes in grotesque heaps of flesh. Still they came, bellowing, shrieking, as if the world itself could be choked with their fury. But the Empire's guns tore through them like invisible blades. Each thunderous volley shook the earth, and in the lines ahead the cult's soldiers and the dawi stood ready for the final clash.
One of Sigmar's priests cried out, "As our first Emperor crushed the green menace, so shall we—in his honor! In his name, show no mercy! In his name, let none survive! In his name, we shall prevail!" His voice cracked like thunder, and before my eyes his body blazed with golden light. That power shattered like a wave, spilling over the men around him, who answered with wild, fervent cheers.
The army stood ready, but soon I understood—there would be no true battle. The war cries faded, drowned beneath the storm of artillery. Cannon after cannon spoke without pause, shattering the greenskins as they hurled themselves against an unbreakable wall of fire and steel. However many they were, it was not enough.
At last, the horde broke. Those few still breathing fled to their holes, never reaching the waiting line of men and dwarfs. The slaughter was over before it had even begun.
Albrecht's griffon landed beside me. He lifted the runic helm from his head, blue reflections dancing across its surface. "It seems the greenskins lack the numbers this time. But word will spread among their warlords. Next time, they'll come with everything they have."
"What… what do we do now?" I asked, still reeling from the chasm I saw between the Empire's might and my own people's.
"We advance," he answered calmly, as if it were already settled. "The dawi will cleanse these slopes of the spores. The land won't favor the greenskins' return, but we won't take chances. Here we will build a fortress, with the dwarfs' aid. From it, the Empire will hold against every invasion from the south."
With that, he took to the skies again, his griffon's wings beating against the wind, and the host moved in column. Heavy horses dragged the cannons forward, and soon we saw thousands of soldiers taking positions on the ridges. Muskets cracked without end in the distance—the fighting still raged in the high places.
For us the path was easier. We reached a point chosen by both dawi and Imperial architects as the best ground for the work. Camps sprang up at once, and I walked with Albrecht as the dwarfs unrolled their plans, debating with the Empire's engineers. Then I realized: this was no mere fortress. This would be a wall spanning the entire pass, its flanks anchored by the mountains themselves. A colossus of stone and iron, planned to hold more than two hundred cannons. Any enemy that came within range would be torn apart.
It was a brutal, undeniable reminder of the gulf between our nations. Kislev dreamt of reclaiming its glory with counted coins, stretching every crown until it cracked. The Empire, meanwhile, could hurl the wealth of entire provinces into arming a massive host—just to cleanse a single region.
Even as the day spiraled into chaos, the killing never stopped. On the hills the zealots of the Cult butchered greenskins with tireless fury, while in other places they flushed out beastmen and cut them down with the same sacred wrath. By the time night fell, the front had quieted, but the air still smelled of blood and smoke. That was when Albrecht entered my tent. My handmaidens did not dare stop him.
"Katarin, take what you need. We leave tonight," he murmured.
"What?... Where?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, unable to hide my surprise.
"I think I know where Ghal Maraz lies. But I need you to come with me—alone." His tone froze the blood in my veins.
"Do you realize how foolish that is? The greenskins swarm everywhere, and you have an army vast enough to crush them—yet you refuse to use it." I could not keep the distrust from my voice.
"It's underground. Numbers are useless there. Besides… there is something I want to show you."
"I hope you're not leading us to an early grave," I muttered, following him out to where his griffon waited.
He mounted with ease, then held his hand out to me. I took it, and with his pull I swung up behind him. The beast spread its wings, and suddenly we were rising into the night sky. I clung to him as the rush of air tore at my hair and cloak. Below us, the hills still crackled with battle—scattered skirmishes lit by fire and torchlight. Farther out, I saw greenskin camps spreading like disease across the land.
At last we descended into a valley littered with butchered corpses.
"This is it… a Dawi Karak. Who knows from which age," Albrecht said, dismounting and striding straight into the dark cave.
"What are you doing, idiot? This isn't safe! It could be crawling with vermin. Call your men," I snapped, following him grudgingly into the blackness.
"Why do you stop?" His voice echoed in the gloom.
"Because I can't see a thing—only the glow of your runes," I answered, guided only by the faint shimmer of his armor.
"Right." He gripped my hand firmly. "Careful. There's a steep drop."
We descended together. With every step, the Winds of Magic thickened around him. Was it his rings, the runes etched into his armor, or the mines themselves pulling at the metal? Whatever the cause, the energy pressed heavier and heavier against my senses.
Soon a dim light revealed a vast gallery. Dwarfen statues, shattered but still imposing, loomed among broken columns.
"This Karak must once have been in its prime… I'm no expert on Dawi culture, but this is ancient. I've only seen statues like these in Karaz-a-Karak," Albrecht murmured, almost reverently.
"You've seen it. Now let's go back. If we die here, no Ghal Maraz will be worth the folly," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. Yet his eyes held a determination I had never seen in him before.
"We're here now. If the hammer is here, we take it."
"Stop playing the hard man, Albrecht. I've seen that act a hundred times in Kislev. It always ends the same way: men dead from pride."
"I only want the damned hammer… wait, haven't you felt it yet?" he asked, surprised.
"Felt what?" I lifted my hands in exasperation.
"WAAAAAAGH!" An orc, iron-clad and bellowing, charged us with an axe the size of a man.
"Damn it! I can barely use my magic here—the heat of these volcanoes smothers it. I won't be able to help you," I cried.
"I don't need your help, honestly," he said, utterly calm.
"Watch out!"
I saw him close his fist—and the orc exploded. Its armor buckled inward, bones and flesh crushed into a twisted mess. The wave of raw power that burst from Albrecht left me breathless.
"You… you're a wizard," I whispered, stunned.
"Yes. And a damned good one," he said, raising his hands again. The orc's mangled armor twisted into floating blades.
"Magic without incantation… do you realize the risk you're taking?"
"I've been using this craft for years. I forced myself to master it. I hide from witch hunters and from other magisters, so none of them decide I should be ashes."
"Years?" I echoed, staring at him as the realization sank in.
"Yes… years." He flung the blades into the tunnels.desperate shrieks erupted in the dark, echoing. I could only imagine bodies being torn apart, unable to see the slaughter his sorcery wrought.
"But… I only awakened my powers a year ago. If yours manifested so young, then… your affinity must be immense," I admitted, shaken by how easily he wielded such forces.
"I awakened months after my father's death. Those were wretched days. I thought I'd be chained again to a fate I couldn't control," he said, striding on through a corridor littered with mangled corpses. "The Colleges of Magic are a prison. So I sought a master on my own… and I found one. He trained me in secret, and I forged myself with my power. So congratulations, Katarin: you are to wed the greatest fraud of the Empire." He chuckled, but there was no humor in his eyes.
"And why tell me this? It's your greatest secret… sharing it is reckless beyond belief." I studied him closely, the glow of his magic swirling at his fingertips.
"We're to be married. I'd rather avoid a poisoned bond where we end up wishing for each other's death. Better to start with truth. This is my truth. If you cannot trust me after this, then nothing matters." He clenched his fists, and in the distance a deafening roar shook the cavern. "The bastard coming must be their warlord… soon I plan to reveal it publicly, so you are the second to know—after my master."
"You'll make it public?" I asked, astonished, even as blood still dripped around us.
"Yes. Because I believe I've gathered enough influence in the Empire, enough respect, that even the greatest lie can be accepted as truth." His words rang like an oath. He gestured, and suddenly an iron mass smashed through a wall, collapsing it in a roar of dust.
Albrecht strode into the haze without hesitation.
"Hello, beautiful…" he murmured, his eyes glinting strangely. The chamber ahead glowed with an ancient light.
"The hammer…" I whispered, seeing it resting upon its pedestal.
Albrecht stepped forward, reached out, and seized Ghal Maraz. He lifted it high with a grip as sure as if it had always been his.
"We have it. We should leave, now," I urged, unsettled by the mounting pressure of magic in the air.
"Albrecht… Albrecht…" I called, louder, shoving at him. But he did not move. His body was rigid, frozen in place like a statue of stone, the hammer raised aloft.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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