~POV Aedan Vaelor~
The caravan that left Barak Varr had eventually broken up into smaller and smaller trade groups, each going off down the numerous different trading routes that connected to the dwarf sea hold. Barak Varr had the perfect geographic location that connected to all land travel that encompassed merchants going to Araby, Tilea, the Empire, the world edge mountains, and with several routes going even so far as Ind and Cathay. Only two of the original dozen dwarven carts travelled all the way northeast of Barak Varr to Akendorf on the imperial trade route. The first cart belonged to Aedan Vaelor, dawi friend, broken overpowered psyker, and Warhammer lore nut job currently travelling with the Dwarf Slayer Thrain Stonebrow.
The other cart that travelled close by the supposed hero sorcerer, belonged to the dwarven merchant family of Stofis. The elder dwarf who owned the merchant cart was a longbeard called Brok Stofis, a veteran who just about travelled to every corner of the world connected by the trade routes that went through Barak Varr. Brok was accompanied by his two sons Durak and Hargin Stofis, both being shortbeard dwarves that silently obeyed their father's every command with the respect they had for their sire and for a successful career merchant that they were learning under. All three of the Stofis merchant dwarves had been captured by the same orcs that besieged Barak Varr, all escaping with their beards and dignity intact thanks to Aedan's powers. Seeing what would have happened if it was not for the daring of the mad lore-nerd, Brok had made the wise idea of also travelling with some of the newly made Dwarven slayers. Enlisting four of the newly minted slayers, to make a total of five oath bound monster slayers each looking for their own suicidal death by the worst monsters Warhammer Fantasy world had in store, all in order to wash away the shame of dishonor. All five of these suicidal dwarven slayers shared the same shame, each had massive clumps missing from their beards, and like the Stofis dwarves, each were saved by Aedan Vaelor, the sorcerer that boiled the black gulf bay.
The first of the new slayers turned traveling companions was Grimnor Forgebane, the tallest dwarf that Aedan had seen so far, almost being the same height as a human. Grimnor was currently a heavily muscular dawi with a bald scalp, and the angriest of all the hammers that Aedan had met within Karak Varr, vowing death to any orc the powerfully built dawi would run into. Next came Borin Hurbo, the best scout of the current dawi group, who occasionally took point of the caravan, going off ahead to observe up coming dangers. A level of dedication that made Thrain feel inadequate and so Aedan's travelling partner joined Borin in the scout work. Borin was also a great shot with his crossbow, bringing back a deer carcass for camp one night, acting humble and passing off the praise upon the crossbow bolts that were produced by Grimnor. Next came Dwalin Silvervein the oldest of the current group of dawi slayers and by far the luckiest as he had enough of his beard remaining to be salvaged into something stylish enough to show off his status as a longbeard, minus the few missing clumps that the old dawi would occasionally complain about. Last of the four was Ulfrik Mendelbar originally a merchant like Brok Stofis, the merchant now turned slayer was dedicated to achieving redemption in the eyes of the dwarven slayer god through any and all means especially if it meant dead orcs. This band of slayers each bustled and bounced about, expecting their doom to be beyond the horizon, each eager to see their honor restored, almost religiously praying for it. Thrain had a good relationship among his fellow slayers, even getting the grumpy Grimnor to loosen up and speak up at times. A feat that Aedan was not able to acquire as the dwarves all remained silent at his presence, some even making prayers to their ancestors for protection whenever the magical warrior that they view as a hell-spawn drew near.
"Ach, give 'em time, Zharrak. Honest heroic deeds'll win the lot of them over in the end... an' settin' their doom down in a proper epic, to honour how they fell, that can help too." Thrain was far kinder than his fellow slayers referring to Aedan as Zharrak a dwarven nickname that roughly translated to Fire Lord. A far better name than the insult of being called Khaozul that some of the other slayers grunted under their breath when they thought Aedan was not listening. The Psyker was always listening with his broken perception capabilities, and unlike the dwarves that lacked thick skin, Aedan could get over the name calling. Khaozul which translated to either as spell-fingers or in the most aggressive of tones as dangerous fool was not the worst thing that Aedan could be called by the superstitious dwarves. Overall outside of the name the lot were well behaved, never going further than an insult, though they did gripped the pommel of their weapons tighter at times, preparing in case the mad sorcerer became the target of their doom.
The thought of their doom put a mellow and tragic mood down on the dwarves, something that would forever follow all five of them. Their fate was tied by whatever they couldn't kill in the end, each would have to face it on their own, yet, for now they seemed something as close to happy as far as suicidal dwarves walking the imperial trading route went. Talking in low, eager voices about eventually reaching the World's Edge Mountains and laying eyes upon the great Throne of Karaz-a-Karak before they met their doom. Yet, the first stop upon the dwarf road for these brave adventures would be the third largest city within the Border Princes. Akendorf, a city whose cultural inspiration and governance heavily drew from all portions of the Empire of Sigmar. Many being former citizens of the empire, who had long ago abandoned their homeland all in order to claim and colonize a piece of the hectic region that is the greater Border Princes. When the small caravan finally passed through the main gates of Akendorf, the atmosphere changed at once.
Witch hunters of Sigmar were present. The first sign of it was the dozen people hung from the outer walls of Akendorf, half of them were humans, the other half carried signs of mutation. The Witch Hunters of the empire had come out in force to the city of Akendorf, a strange situation as the city was not a part of the empire. These grim, black-clad men with wide-brimmed hats, all armed with silver stakes and gunpowder weapons were currently working alongside the guards of Akendorf stopping any and all traders that entered. They were checking every wagon and every traveler for heretical items or signs of corruption, executing anyone they suspected of heresy, with no one daring to stand against them. The witch hunters were currently at the height of their power when it came to authority on matters regarding the hunt of magic and heresy. Magnus the Pious had yet to be born, that legendary leader of mankind was the only person able to establish concrete and rational restrictions upon the zeal of the witch hunters. That was not going to happen for at least another 579 years from now, as such the witch hunters that lived solely to purge heresy wherever they imagined it, had almost free rein to do as they pleased in the service of Sigmar and the forces of order. In this era, there were also no Colleges of Magic, no protections for any newly discovered witches. No, their fate were usually to be killed on the spot with no trial, nothing, just straight-up murdered by men who religiously believed they were doing the right thing.
Aedan rode calmly on his cart. His force sword, The Sword of Doom, hung openly on his back yet no eldritch might was flowing through the powerful weapon from the 40k universe, giving no hint of the power that Aedan had shown during the battle for Barak Varr. Aedan's black and gold carapace armor was on, but his skeletal helmet was safely stored in his dimensional storage, as the heresy of necromancy was viewed as hatefully as the heresy of chaos. A skeletal mask might be misinterpreted as some form of undead worship by a less than bright witch hunter. Aedan decided to play it safe in order to prevent the Akendorf witch hunters from collectively shitting themselves, before attempting to kill Aedan in some mass form of murderous rage. Aedan had hidden most items that might be mistaken as magical, and held back the humongous wall of psychic energies that he could unleash with a flick of his wrist. The only people who knew of Aedan's magical talents were the dwarves travelling with him.
Surprisingly, not a single one of them ratted him out, the reason for that was lost on Aedan. The dwarves, who had been a rowdy and loud bunch on the open road, suddenly became quiet and stone-faced as the witch hunter approached. They answered the witch hunter's questions in short, gruff sentences and kept their eyes down, only responding where they could. Even the normally hot-headed Grimnor stayed silent only answering the bare minimum of what was asked.
The witch hunters inspected the wagons carefully, poking through barrels of dwarf ale and crates of tools. One of them stared hard at Aedan for a long moment, but Aedan simply smiled politely and waved confidently at the Witch Hunter. After a tense few minutes, the lead witch hunter waved them through with a haughty command. "Move along."
Whether it was due to being in the company of dwarves, or Aedan's charming persona bleeding through to confuse the Akendorf guards and witch hunters, the lore-nerd was not sure, all he knew was that Akendorf welcomed him openly. Once the group paid the toll taxes after the thorough search, they were safely inside the city and away from the gates, the tension finally broke and the group saw the marvel that was before them. For Akendorf was a bustling fortified border town that had grown rich from its position similar to that of Barak Varr. Akendorf was stationed near Black Fire Pass, the gateway into the empire, and a major trade hub connecting with all four major trade routes of the Empire, Tilea, Araby, and the Dwarf Road that led to the Karaz-a-Karak which also connected onto the Silver road into Grand Cathay. The well-built streets of Akendorf were wide enough for multiple wagons to fit side by side, but still the streets felt crowded with traders and citizens of the frontier city. Stone buildings with slate roofs lined the main thoroughfares, many of them reinforced with iron bands and heavy shutters. Watchtowers and thick walls surrounded the settlement, a constant reminder that this was frontier land where danger could arrive at any moment. Either by a screaming Waaagh of orcs, or by far more dangerous and dark creatures that inhabited the border lands.
The market square in the heart of the city was a riot of color and noise. Stalls and tents filled every available space, selling goods from across the known world. Merchants from the Empire haggled loudly over barrels of Averland wine and Stirland wool. Tilean traders in colorful doublets shouted offers on fine Estalian steel blades, Tilean olive oil, and glassware. Arabyan merchants in flowing robes and turbans displayed exotic spices, silks, and curved scimitars that gleamed under the sun. Even a small group of merchants from far-off Grand Cathay had set up a stall, their silk banners embroidered with golden dragons fluttering in the breeze as they sold delicate porcelain, jade carvings, and packets of rare tea that smelled of distant mountains.
The air was thick with the scent of roasting meat, fresh bread, spiced wine, and the sharp tang of gunpowder from a nearby stall selling Empire-made firearms. Street performers juggled knives while pickpockets worked the crowd. Priests of Sigmar preached from wooden platforms, warning against the dangers of mutation and Chaos. Dogs barked, horses neighed, and merchants argued in half a dozen languages.
It was an overwhelming, vibrant crossroads, the kind of place that would be perfect for the start of an epic adventure... after getting some rest. The group stopped at a large, rowdy tavern near the eastern wall called The Brass Tankard. After having their carts secured and horses stabled, Aedan in a generous spirit ordered strong ale for the entire group and green tea for himself. The dwarves saw this as a mixed blessing. They were still suspicious of Aedan, especially of a man that chose boiled water over ale, a choice that was considered sacrilegious to the dwarves as they finished their ale before Aedan even got his first cup of tea. Aedan could read the thoughts of the slayers, they had all come to some sort of quiet pact, if it turned out that the heavily armed and armored psyker was actually a Chaos sorcerer, then they would kill him themselves or achieve their doom. At least three of them were not even willing to leave it in the hands of others, especially the witch hunters of Akendorf, who all the dawi thought were clearly incompetent as they let Aedan into the city.
The group drank their refilled drinks quietly at first, listening to the conversations around them. News both old and recent travelled fast in Akendorf. To the north the Three Emperors were fighting among themselves over who should be the rightful ruler of the entire empire of man. From the recent news it seems that Averland broke apart from Imperial Reikland becoming completely independent like the county of Sylvania. There was even further rumors going on about Marienburg also splitting off from the domain of Imperial Reikland, as the Elector Count of Marienburg desired to become an unofficial fourth contender vying for the imperial throne. An idea that seemed frankly ridiculous for some of the merchants, but from Aedan's memories the House of Van Der Maacht that ruled over Marienburg would begin the slow process of manipulating things in the background. In two hundred years time, Marienburg would become the heart of the Western Imperial region taking two of the Elector Counts with them eventually leading to a four way fight for the imperial throne.
Then came the rumors from some of the Tilean and Estalian traders in the bar. Aedan understood them better than his short allies, most of the slayers finding it weird that the humans did not speak one unified language. Aedan had to translate on their behalf, explaining that the Myrmidian merchants were talking about another great crusade being called to invade Araby, and that three Bretonnian orders of knights were going to purge the threat of a warlord who fancied himself as a new Sultan Jaffar. The Estalian traders have mentioned many of their country men offering discounted passage into the Araby peninsula for the Bretonnian knights, doing everything they can short of entering the combat to slay this new dark sorcerer of Lashiek. There was talk of a sigmarite crusade getting involved with Estalian traders offering that same discounted rate to any imperial forces or mercenary bands that entered the conflict. The thought of Araby gold, and battling an evil sorcerer that was not their traveling companion entertained some of the dwarves, but Brok put a stop to any fantasies as the groups intended destination was Cathay.
However what really got everyone's attention were rumors more immediate and far more concerning, of events occurring right beyond the walls of Akendorf and near the Stygian woods. There was a large band of Beastmen raiders active on the old Dwarf Road between Akendorf leading toward Karaz-a-Karak. These corrupted mutants had grown bolder, attacking caravans and even making raids against the outer walls of Akendorf itself. One of the off duty Akendorf militia men said a powerful magic user was leading the beastmen, a Bray-Shaman with brutality that rivalled the witch hunters own horrific tactics. The thought of a magic user somehow breaching the walls of Akendorf was enough to sombre the chatting tavern patrons, with no one voicing the fear out loud, but Aedan could read the fear as if the people of Akendorf screamed it out.
The five Slayers had gotten energetic after learning about the beastmen. This was exactly the kind of fight they were looking for and it was right on their path to Cathay. Brok Stofis looked worried as the rumors placed the warherd in the thousands, seeing very little in the way of avoiding conflict entirely the longbeard was talking about hiring more guards. His two sons, Durak and Hargin, were more eager and openly said they were willing to fight if it came to that. Well that's two less warriors Brok has to worry about hiring now.
Aedan sat quietly, listening, mulling over the rumors and using his infinite knowledge of the warhammer 40k and fantasy lore to decide his next move. After a while the psyker decided that the best option in this situation was to worry about the things that no one yet knew about. To Aedan that was the threats already inside of the walls of Akendorf, and given how often the dangers yet to be seen props up he felt confident in his next actions. Using his Psyniscience, Aedan reached out with his psychic senses feeling the entirety of Akendorf for any signs of possible heresy. His magical sight, thanks mostly due to the Multiversal Rebirth Allocation Terminal, was heavily modified to go far beyond its range limit, nearly encompassing all of Akendorf, and more importantly easier to notice chaos taint, even the sort hidden with sorcery. As such Aedan was able to spot three distinct sources of corruptive warp-like energy somewhere within the city. They were faint but unmistakable, one wasn't even that far away from the Brass Tankard. The Psyker wasn't sure of the other two locations, as the overwhelming amount of information into his mind required him to do another Psyniscience test in order to spot their exact location, but he knew they were definitely inside the walls of Akendorf and that they held nothing but the horrible corruptive touch of Chaos.
One, of the far distant sources of corruption revealed to Aedan the reason this large horde of Beastmen were so active near the walls of Akendorf, and that was enough to make him start feeling depressed. Someone in this great city had a child suffering from the unfortunate mutation that resulted in the baby being born as a beastman child. Normally such a creature would be sacrificed at the pyres of a witch hunter of Sigmar, but occasionally, occasionally paternal and maternal instincts would kick in, and the parents would instead hide their mutated baby. Such familial madness would be better classified as a curse, one that the poor family inflict upon themselves, for if it was ever discovered that they were housing a beastman, than the entirety of the cursed family would be burned to death by the witch hunters. Worse, if the witch hunters didn't find them, then the morons hiding their mutant offspring, will alert the nearby beastman communities into rising up into a warherd in order to free their fellow beastman from the cruel confines of civilization. This usually means the beastmen would begin murdering, raping, and burning down entire villages and cities in order to acquire their mutated kin and introduce them to the religion of the ruinous power.
Someone within Akendorf has most likely damned the entire city due to such mercy, and Aedan did not understand what was going through the minds of the parents of this mutant baby. At best they would have to lock up their baby in a basement or cellar, locked away from sight, but close enough to said parents. The baby beastman would grow up confined, unable to ever leave, and left bitter in their prison of love, until the parents die of old age. If the beastman child ever broke out, they might kill their biological parents before attempting to flee to join some sort of beastman community. This never ends in a happy ending for anyone, as the parents are usually dead, the beastman child is usually dead, or worse the beastman manages to escape, only to go off to do barbaric evils in the name of the ruinous powers... God Emperor if only you where here to make the beastmen into abhumans, that might get them to stop misbehaving.
Aedan leaned over to Thrain and spoke quietly. "Thrain… I have picked up corruption and ruinous taint inside of the walls of Akendorf, I think it might be something tied to the beastmen. I have spotted a total of three separate sources of magical energies. Most likely heretics, or worse."
Thrain's face hardened. He quietly relayed the message to the other four Slayers in low Khazalid. Their expressions changed instantly, from drunken merriment to grim purpose. Most of the slayers were ready to jump out of their seats ready for a fight, with Grimnor being the loudest, slamming his mug down and screaming Khazalid. "Then why are we sittin' here?! Lead the way, Khaozul! Any beast or heretic hidin' in this city will be dragged into the light an' slain...for the glory o' Grimnir an' the Ancestors!"
The other Slayers nodded eagerly, the rowdy bunch rising, hands already drifting toward their weapons as they screamed and started leaving the tavern of gawking people staring at the amped up dwarves. Even Brok Stofis looked uneasy, but he didn't argue. His sons watched Aedan with a mix of awe and nervousness. Unfortunately, Brok refused to take part in the matter, and forbid his sons from participating. Aedan stood up slowly, his calm demeanor never breaking. "Longbeard we will be back shortly. This should be a quick hunt."
The group left the tavern and moved through the crowded streets of Akendorf. Aedan's Psyniscience guided the group toward the closest of the three sources of corruption. Multiple times the eager dwarves grew a little less eager as Aedan led them, with Borin commenting several times. "Is it wise to trail after a Chaos-touched Khaozul just to hunt down more Chaos-touched heretics? Sounds like askin' for trouble to me."
"If he reveals his true treasonous heart, then we'll slay him alongside all the other heretics. Now quiet, lad. We can't let the wretch hear us if he's plottin' to betray us." Dwalin comment got the other slayers grunting in approval, while leaving Aedan's mouth half open at the fact that his dwarven allies were so openly talking about slaying the psyker. Either they forgot he knew their language, or the lot of them grew drunk on the Akendorf Ale, which was as likely as Aedan planning to betray them. Just marking off the comment as some sort of tactic in order to throw Aedan off balance, the psyker ignored it as he led the group to a large warehouse near the eastern district of the city. Its doors were marked with faded golden dragon symbols. Telling the group of slayers that he sensed corruption inside got the dwarves so riled up they wanted to rush in immediately.
Grimnor growled, raising his hammer. "Knock the door down and start chopping! No need for fancy talk!"
Dwalin and Borin nodded eagerly, hands on their weapons. Aedan held up a hand. "Wait a moment, I have a better idea."
Reading enough Gotrek and Felix books to know what would happen if the group rushed onto another persons property. Even if they found an entire cult of heretics inside of the warehouse, the fact that they trespassed on the property would get them all locked up. So Aedan decided to go with a different option, to avoid future trouble with the law. Telling the dwarves to wait a moment, Aedan circled back, Thrain following, as Aedan had spotted two local night watchmen patrolling nearby. Using his broken system modified psyker sight, Aedan made sure that the two Akendorf militia men were not secretly heretics that infiltrated the city guards. Both of the two men gave off a sense of orderly energies, making Aedan feel confident they would not be threats. He walked up to the two watchmen, then the Psyker in disguise noticed the ranks of both of them, the first of the two was a Corporal and his partner was Private. Aedan utilized his broken charisma and deception stats to be as friendly and as respectful as possible in order to get the two men's aid.
"Excuse me, gentlemen." Aedan said smoothly, before lying like a dirty rug. "My companions and I were walking past a warehouse over there and we heard screaming… and some sort of concerning chanting. It sounded like something unnatural was going on there, something I think should be check out."
The corporal straightened up immediately, hand going to his sword. "Screaming and chanting, you say? In the warehouse district? I didn't hear anything."
"Yes, me and five others notices it, I think something is wrong, after hearing a shriek it suddenly became quiet, no drunk coming outside laughing, or children playing a prank. Something is wrong and I believe it should be investigated." The tone that Aedan used got one of the watchman to get very concerned, while the more veteran of two looked at Aedan with suspicion.
Private looked between his partner and the Aedan before making a suggestion. "We'd better check it out. It could be tied with the beastman outside, maybe some of them got into the city."
"Are you daff Gunther? How could mutants get inside the city, the witch hunters and entire city are watching everyone coming in. This man is clearly drunk or playing a prank on us." The veteran chided his junior watchman, but Aedan jumped on the opportunity.
"I swear on holy Sigmar that I am neither drunk nor lying to you Corporal. Something unnatural is going on at that warehouse." That got the veteran to look concerned, it got the Private named Gunther to turn to Thrain.
"Honorable Dwarf, is what your friend saying true, did you hear screaming at a warehouse?" Aedan felt a moment of cold go down his spine. Dwarves were not the sort to lie, their honor forbid it. And given how Thrain was stunned, blinking at Aedan the entire time he was trying to recruit the guardsman, it became clear that Thrain was not going to lie. Whether it was because of the oath he made to his prince, or because he gave Aedan a bit of trust, he at least told the truth... in the complex dwarven language of Khazalid.
"That companion o' mine is spinnin' lies, tryin' to lure ye both into the warehouse. I've no trust in this foolish-fingered wizard, not one bit... but I suppose I'm willin' to go have a look in case he speaks truth." Thrain's words cut deep, but neither of the two guards understood a word of it. Instead they used the dwarfs body language, and saw Thrain pointing backwards towards the warehouse as a form of proof.
"If something unholy is being done, it must be stopped Yates. We should investigate it." Private Gunther was full of conviction, it got his partner to snap back at him.
"Just the two of us? Are you mad Gunther, what if a beastman did come into the city, do you think just you and I will be enough to defend against it?" Corporal Yates, was fuming at his junior. Again Aedan took this opportunity to answer.
"My friends and I are willing to back you two up, they are all dwarven warriors against anything dangerous that appears, and as a believer in the one true God Emperor of man, I will also aide you in case anything dangerous comes out to attack us at the warehouse." Aedan's convincing words got an exhausted sigh from Corporal Yates, who finally budged. However the senior watchman muttered the entire something about this being a waste of his time and how he would lock us all up for the night if this turned out to be nothing at all.
Thrain remained quiet, but was looking disapprovingly at Aedan, at how easy his travelling partner was willing to lie to his own kind. The dwarf slayer did not call Aedan out on it, only silently following all the manlings to break down the warehouse door. The other slayers were waiting, but they looked just as eager to break down these doors as any other. With the two Akendorf guards now leading the way, the group approached the Cathayan warehouse. The doors were closed, Corporal Yates attempted to knock on the door at first, seeing if someone would open up. When no one answered, the watchman looked back at Aedan, who gave him a reassuring look that got the senior guard to sigh, before breaking down the door. Once entering inside the group began looking around the dimly lit interior, stacks of crates and silk bales casting long shadows. The Corporal and the Private started calling out, believing the lie about the scream, imagining an injured warehouse worker somewhere inside.
Aedan on the other hand could sense the threat strongly now. He pointed at a large wooden crate nearby and spoke to his allies in Khazalid. "That box there, something tainted is inside of that crate."
Dwalin and Grimnor, weapons out moved forward and started swinging at that crate breaking it open. Private Gunther and Corporal Yates immediately protested.
"Hey! Stop that! You lot will be locked up for this!" Corporal Yates had turned red, almost like a tomato, looking angerly at Aedan and the slayers. His eyes accused the entire lot of them of being some sort of thieves that tricked the two watchman into being accomplices. However, that anger died, when both the Corporal and his partner saw the large amount of glowing green rocks that came spilling out of the damaged box. One of the slayers, Ulfrik the former merchant, screamed out in imperial tongue.
"By Grimnir's beard! Warpstone! Chaos-touched rock, rotten to the core. Touch none of it, ye hear me? There's plenty enough there to work some dire evil. Ancestors preserve us!" Ulfrik's words got everyone to back away from the dangerous raw warp stone. Even the two guards went pale edging away like the dwarves.
"Sigmar's hammer… that's warpstone. Real warpstone." Corporal Yates swallowed hard, before turning to his partner. "Gunther, stay with the slayers. I'll go get some witch hunters and more guards to close down this warehouse, no the entire warehouse district!"
"I don't think so." The cold dead words of warehouse owner came out loudly even when it felt so soft and monotone, stopping Corporal Yates before he could enact his plan. Turning around the group saw themselves surrounded by over two dozen dark robed individuals.
Shit I should have checked my auspex to see if there were any signs of people inside of the warehouse. As Aedan mentally chided himself, he focused on one of the cultists, most likely the speaker, who walked forward, dropping his hood exposing his face. A short Cathayan man, the same height as Grimnor the slayer, but he had none of the dwarf's bulk. The Cathayan man's skin was pale like moon light, long silk like hair that matched his skin, his eyes a crimson that made Aedan think of an albino, but his psychic sight revealed the truth of the matter. For the rotting energies of the undead bleed off of the foreigner almost as much as blue mad energies of the chaos god Tzeentch. A Vampire Lord, one in service to chaos!
"Do not look into his eyes, he is a vampire, he can control you with his words!" Aedan spoke out before the Cathayan undead could mesmerize the group. Only for those glowing eyes to focus upon Aedan instead, as the Cathayan Vampire Lord, showed his fangs, hissing his disapproval before moving with unnatural grace. The snarling vampire pounced straight at Corporal Yates, attempting to eliminate the law man before he could inform his colleagues. Fortunately for Corporal Yates, Aedan moved faster.
In a blur, the heavily armored Psyker drew his force sword and intercepted the vampire mid-leap. The blade sang as it sliced clean through the undead neck, beheading the Cathayan Vampire Lord in one smooth strike that surprised the vampire. The head tumbled across the floor as the body collapsed in a spray of dark blood. The other heretics screamed in rage and charged just at the same time the five Slayers roared with joy and leapt into the fray, axes and hammers swinging.
"Grimnir guide my hammer!" Grimnor bellowed, smashing the first cultist into paste. In the melee Thrain fought his way beside Aedan, his new runic axe glowing brightly as he cut down two heretics. The battle inside the Cathayan warehouse had begun, the cultists had the same idea as their fallen vampire lord, attempting to target the militia men first, trying to kill the only people within Akendorf with any pull to mobilize the city. Aedan was on the defensive, parrying blows targeting Corporal Yates and Private Gunther, as the militia men and slayers attacked back, cutting and smashing cultists with every blow.
"Kill the intruders!" one robed fanatic howled. "For the Blood God! For the Master!"
The heretics were down half of their people, but still they charged in a frenzied wave, rusty blades and jagged daggers raised, their faces twisted with madness. The few of them that Aedan could see under their hoods were mutated heavily. Aedan didn't hesitate, now turning offensive with his stance now that the guards and slayers had formed a perfect defensive circle against the remaining horde. Stepped forward, force sword drawn and channeling the powers of his eldritch might, Aedan met the screaming cultist of the Chaos god Khorne head-on. The blade moved in a clean, precise arc. Like the Cathayan vampire, the cultist's head came off as neatly, before his body slammed onto the floor, blood flowing freely and greedily on the warehouse floor. Beside Aedan, the five Dwarf Slayers roared with pure, gleeful fury as the last of the cultists were chopped down.
"Grimnir take you all!" Grimnor Forgebane bellowed, swinging his massive hammer in a wide, crushing arc. The weapon connected with the last of the cultists, caving in the heretic's chest with a sickening crunch. The man flew backward into two crates, his bones shattered.
Huh, I think I'm with the wrong slayer, Grimnor seems a lot closer to Gotrek as far as combat abilities go. Aedan's thoughts were silenced, as the last scream of the warehouse echoed before falling into a dead silence. Blood splattered across huge portions of the warehouse, even turning the expensive Cathayan silk fabric into ruined red rags. The only sound heard was the heavy breathing of the dwarves and the Militia men, all survived with only a few scratches, and Private Gunther being the most shaken out of everyone in warehouse.
Corporal Yates wiped the blood off of his sword with a Cathayan silk shroud, he had done better than his junior colleague, killing one cultist and injuring another before slayer Ulfrik chopped the injured cultists down with his axe. Even so the Corporal's face was pale with horror, he had seen violence before, but nothing like this, as the Slayers and one calm human swordsman carving through two dozen cultists in mere moments.
Yates swallowed hard, eyes wide as he looked at the dead bodies. Many of the robed figures had heavy mutations. A couple with extra limbs, some with twisted horns, patches of scales, or mouths full of fangs that no Sigmar blessed human should possess.
"Sigmar's mercy…" Yates whispered. "Vampire, cultists, mutants in Akendorf. By the pantheon of Order and all their holy priests, we need to inform the entire garrison."
Gunther nodded shakily, still gripping his spear, bloodied as the junior had been granting mercy kills to any twitching cultists, preventing them from rising up again. "We need to get the witch hunters. Now Yates!"
Yates turned to the group, specifically towards Aedan, his voice unsteady but grateful. "You… you saved me, maybe even this city. Thank you. But this is bigger than us. I'm going to fetch the witch hunters and the captain. Gunther will stay with you, please secure the area, don't leave until I return with more help."
Before anyone could argue, Yates hurried out of the warehouse, boots pounding on the street outside as he rushed out for reinforcements. Gunther stayed behind, looking nervous but determined. He kept glancing at the dead cultists and the spilled warpstone, grasping his spear tightly, making the sign of the hammer as if shielding his soul.
Aedan spoke calmly. "Don't touch anything on the vampire or the cultists. Especially the warpstone. It's dangerous."
Gunther obeyed without question, nodding quickly and keeping his distance. The group began searching the warehouse carefully, trying to figure out where those cultists appeared from. Crates were opened, silk bales moved aside. Eventually, Dwalin and Borin found something behind a false wall, their expert eyes for architecture had discovered a secret tunnel leading downward into an underground system. Grimnor's eyes lit up. "A tunnel? Perfect! Let's go deeper. There might be more of them!"
Several of the Slayers immediately wanted to explore further, completely ignoring Yates early remark, axes and hammers at the ready. Aedan used his Psyniscience to sense ahead, and a wave of corruptive evil hit him hard, making the psyker want to throw up chunks, but note that someone was running through the tunnel system, rushing away from the warehouse, most likely to warn other cultists of what had happened.
"There is someone down there," Aedan said, voice low and urgent. "They are escaping, most likely to warn other cultists within the city."
The words had barely left his mouth before the Slayers surged forward with eager growls. Grimnor Forgebane lifted his hammer, eyes blazing with the promise of violence. "Aye, then we chase that yellow-bellied coward down an' crack his skull wide open before the snivellin' wretch can spread news of our deeds!"
Thrain Stonebrow gripped his runic axe tighter, already taking a step toward the tunnel entrance. "Ach, we can't let the cult keep scurrying about an' hidin' after hearin' that news. Lead on, Zharrak."
Private Gunther, however, stepped in front of the tunnel mouth, spear held across his chest. The young watchman's face was pale but determined. His voice came out sharp and panicked. "Wait! We shouldn't go yet. It's best we wait for backup. Corporal Yates is bringing the witch hunters and more guards. Rushing in blind could get you all killed."
Aedan shook his head. "That fleeing cultist might forewarn his allies within the city. If they scatter now, we lose any chance of rooting them out. We need to intercept him before he reaches the others, or at the very least follow him to his other hideout before the cultists attempt to get rid of it."
Gunther looked torn, glancing back at the blood-soaked warehouse and the open tunnel. "I… I can't hold this entire warehouse by myself. I'm just one man, and I've got very little experience with anything like this. What if there are more cultists and they come through the warehouse door before Corporal Yates gets back."
Aedan nodded, understanding the man's fear. He turned to a specific dwarf slayer. "Borin, you stay with Private Gunther. Secure the area and wait for the reinforcements. You're the best scout among us, we will leave clues behind so that you can lead the witch hunters and the city guards to follow after us when they arrive."
Borin Hurbo hesitated for only a moment, then gave a short, reluctant grunt of agreement. "Fine. I'll hold the line here, manling. But don't hog all the glory. I need some to seek my doom."
"Don't worry, lad. We'll leave a few for you to finish off!" Grimnor clapped Borin on the shoulder hard enough to make the scout stagger. With Borin and Private Gunther staying behind to guard the warehouse and wait for Yates' reinforcements, Aedan, Thrain, Grimnor, Ulfrik, and Dwalin moved into the secret tunnel. The passage was narrow and dark, easier for the dwarves to move through it than Aedan. The air grew colder and damper with every step in the claustrophobic tunnels leading underground. The dwarves' heavy boots echoed softly on the packed earth. Soon the tunnel sloped downward and the walls changed from rough dirt to slick, moss-covered stone. The smell hit them like a physical blow, a thick, choking stench of sewage, rot, and stagnant water.
The group had entered the sewer system beneath Akendorf. Most of the dwarves immediately scrunched their noses in disgust. Grimnor let out a loud curse in Khazalid. "By Grimnir's flaming beard, what is that stench? It smells like a thousand dead squigs left to rot in a troll's belly!"
Ulfrik gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve. "I've smelled bad deals before, but this… this is worse than a goblin's latrine."
Even Thrain grimaced, though he tried to hide it behind a stoic mask. Aedan, not wanting to deal with the horrible smell, reached into his dimensional space to take out his skeletal helmet and seal it into place with a sharp hiss of pressurized air. The advanced filters kicked in immediately, blocking out the worst of the foul odor and leaving the psyker breathing clean, recycled air. The cold blue-white glow of the eye lenses cut through the darkness like twin beacons. A couple of the dwarves grunt angrily at Aedan for the use of unwarned magic and putting on a helmet that made him look like the undead. After a couple of curses they quieted down, allowing Aedan to trail after the cultists in peace. The group pressed forward through the twisting sewer tunnels, following the faint trail left by the fleeing cultist. Splashing through shallow, filthy water, they moved as quickly as they dared.
Ulfrik, ever the observant former merchant, suddenly pointed at markings on the walls, then to a patch of ground near the wall. "Look there, those are the markings of Beastmen, an' their dung is fresh. That ain't human scat. Too large... too wrong. I'd wager the Beastmen have found themselves a way into Akendorf."
Grimnor snorted. "An' how exactly would ye know the difference between human shit an' Beastman shit, merchant? What are ye, some kind o' Dung-slayer?!"
Dwalin chuckled. "Hah! Ulfrik's well known as a brown-nosin' bastard. He'll make yer bum feel proper kissed an' comfortable... right before he squeezes extra coin outta ye."
The merchant-turned-Slayer growled. "Keep runnin' yer mouths an' don't be surprised when I add both yer names to my personal Book o' Grudges. We'll see how funny ye find those jokes once I've settled 'em with ye."
The jokes died down quickly after that. No one wanted to push the already irritable Slayer too far. Aedan stayed focused ahead. With his enhanced psychic sight and perception, he easily picked up the trail of the fleeing cultist, ignoring the false trails and misdirection the man had tried to leave behind. But what did get Aedan's attention was that there were several marks of Chaos, crude symbols scratched into the sewer walls, glowed faintly to his psychic senses, giving the psyker a small migraine when staring directly at them. Aedan pushed his sight further, locking onto the fleeing cultist, and sensing his psychic energy signature. It came back nearly the exact same as the the Cathayan Vampire Lord that Aedan slayed, the rotting undead wind of necromancy and chaotic corruptive powers of Tzeentch combined into something so nasty it made the sewer feel like a meadow of freshly blooming flowers. Aedan spoke quietly over his shoulder. "We're chasing a vampire. The energy is the same as the Cathayan I killed, he has a touch of undead mixed with Chaos taint."
That got an immediate reaction from the Slayers. Grimnor's grin widened dangerously. "A vampire? Even better! I've always wanted to smash one of those blood-sucking leeches!"
Thrain's grip tightened on his runic axe. "Then we will focus on the him and move quickly. Vampires are cunning. We cannot let it escape this night."
The group moved faster now, the promise of a worthy foe spurring them on. As they went deeper into the sewer system, Thrain made sure to leave clear physical mark that Borin would be able to follow with the reinforcements. Spacing each marks carefully with chalk that Thrain had carried on his person like a proper scout. The group rounded another corner when Thrain suddenly spoke, halting everyone.
"Traps," the Slayer said grimly, pointing ahead. "Nasty ones, these. Pressure plates, tripwires, that one there might be a spiked pit. All set ahead o' time. That fleein' bastard's usin' 'em to slow us down."
The dwarves grumbled, Grimnor being the most eager to charge forward even known where the traps were. Aedan studied the trap network for a moment, noticing the path that the cultists had used to not activate the paths. He was going to point this path out as well, but he realized that Borin and the reinforcements might not be able to notice the path to safely get across. Deciding this was the perfect time to use his psychic powers of the restricted void magics, Aedan turned to his companions. "Move back. I'll handle this... in a foolish way."
The Slayers reluctantly retreated a short distance, Dwalin muttering complaints about something that Aedan heard as "relying on sorcery is madness, ancestor forgive me."
Aedan focused. He didn't want the reinforcements walking into these traps, so he channeled his power carefully while raising his hands, his fingers pointing up ahead. Black Void Lightning crackled silently from his outstretched hand, before jolting out like sinister vile snakes, whereever they landed erasing large chunks of the sewer floor and walls, along with every trap in the section, from reality itself. Stone, metal spikes, and tripwires simply ceased to exist, any trap mechanisms activating only to be partially removed from reality, after a moment of the unnatural eldritch light show, the path ahead was clean, a couple empty groves and pot holes the only sign that remained of the traps. The four slayers, looked shocked, and horrified, all four refusing to budge, as the magics that Aedan called upon was beyond their imagination. Aedan's next words got their attention. "It is safe to move ahead. Let us go, the heretic is up ahead."
Aedan stared in the direction, realizing it was one of the first three locations within Akendorf that his senses had detected corruption at. Here we go with heretical hideout number 2.
~POV Lord Bell von Quinn~
In a lavish room, hidden from access by all servants and staff working within the von Quinn mansion, the lord of the manor sat in a trance. His domain far to the northern edge of Akendorf was fortified and prepared for the coming dark nights ahead, Lord Bell sat in a candle-lit chamber adorned with shifting, impossible tapestries that seemed to move when no one was looking directly at the art works of the Great Changer of Ways.
As a member of the Conclave of the Indigo Weaver, Lord Bell had secured himself a powerful position as a high-ranking Chaos cultist devoted to Tzeentch with Akendorf. As is the will of the Changer, Bell had been plotting the downfall of the false gods and their servants in the hope of ascending the glory of Chaos within the Borderlands. At the center of the chamber was his patron and pet, a Herald of Tzeentch, a floating, many-eyed daemon with constantly changing features, alerting Lord von Quinn of his guest's arrival and the bad news he carried with a voice that sounded like cracking glass.
"The Pagoda of Tsien-Tsin has arrived, the leech bleeds with fear, his path is clear for all to see. Beware the undead that is not dead, oh Exalted Weaver, your lineage will be crushed and no one will care that you weep." The Daemon's words were almost mocking, the creature preyed upon fear and used it as leverage to control Lord Bell into obedience, offering more and more to the vile creature. However, Bell would not fall for the neverborn's offer, for Lord Bell was a master of sorcery and had understand the dangers of dealing with such infernal abominations.
"Your aid is not required herald! Continue on with your task, the fall of Akendorf is but mere days away. Keep the beasts in control, long enough for that damn Prince Gross and all he holds dear to fall to ruins." Lord von Quinn's tone would not tolerate any further treachery or plots from the magical aneurysm. The daemon laughed and wept in equal measure as his warning was ignored. Leaving his sanctum, Lord von Quinn dedicated to the ruinous powers, Lord Bell came to find one of the two Cathayan undead, that right there should have been a sign to him that something was wrong as the cultists from the far east never appeared before him alone. Switching to eastern tongue Lord Bell questioned the Vampire. "Where is your senior brother? Why are you here without him?"
"Exalted Weaver, the warehouse has been discovered, the dogs of your imperial devil come to seek our ruin. They have slain my brother, and snap at my feet. My attempts to throw them off has failed, they are but mere moments away from slaying me." The undead's voice carried fear, whether of those that hunt him, or the fact that he was in the presence of the rage filled Lord Bell, the sorcerer did not care to know.
"You stupid eastern savage, you have lead the witch hunters of sigmar to my door! Where are the Khornite allies have I have secured?!" Eldritch might burned bright dark blue from Lord Von Quinn's eye as he pondered whether or not to slay the wretch before him at this moment.
"All slain, the enemies were fierce, even outnumbered they brought ruin to your allies." The news had been enough for Lord Bell to cast his most destructive spell and damn the fool into the embrace of Tzeentch to make his excuses in person to the changer of ways. However as Lord von Quinn's mansion began shaking, the chosen of Tzeentch had no choice but to hide his murderous desires.
"Enemies have arrived on my door steps because of you. Redeem yourself by wiping each and ever last one of them, or all of our plans are for naught, and your damn soul will suffer greatly for this failure." Lord Bell would not waste a weapon at this crucial moment, as much as every instinct and desire made him want to slay the leech before him, he needed to deal with the intruders first. The Exalted Weaver's mind reached out to every loyal agent of the Conclave of the Indigo Weaver, those within his residence and those else where in the city, alerting them to the danger. Those within the residence saw the threat and readied themselves for the battle ahead. Luckily Lord Bell had smuggled into his estate enough beastmen warriors to aid in the battle ahead. These mind-broken thralls were not his to do with as he pleased, directing the mindless horde to the underground entrance along with any other minion he possessed. "The Pagoda of Tsien-Tsin assured me of your capabilities, go leech, go and fix your mistake... I must prepare for the next phase of the plan."
The Cathayan undead bowed once in respect and fear before rushing towards the underground sewer entrance that the invaders used to invade Lord Bell's mansion. With him gone Bell von Quinn slammed his fist on the wall next to him, before rushing back to his sanctum. There the Herald of Tzeentch floated in mocking joy seeing Lord Bell returning in haste looking upon his obsidian table, dark artifacts were illuminated by several mutated candles that flared up with unnatural green flames.
"Failure? This is the worst act of failure that could befall the conclave." he snarled, his once-handsome face twisting with rage. "At best this is merely a delay, not defeat! The Ruinous Powers test us, as they always do. Tzeentch weaves a thousand threads, what is one snapped strand in the Great Plan? The Khornites were blunt tools at best. The vampire was a useful pawn, nothing more. Their deaths only serve to mislead the fools of Sigmar while my true scheme ripens. I have avenged myself on Prince Gross already, all I must do now is escape with my life intact, and plan for my return. Herald go, go and help the leech and the rest delay the intruders, buy me the time I need to leave."
Lord Quinn had taken his robes, the magical artifacts touched with the corruptive wind of Dhar were swirling with illusory eyes that blinked and vanished. The man extracted as many dark artifacts as he could, before accessing his hidden safe and extracting even further dark artifacts, tomes, and a pile of imperial gold. His only objective now was fleeing the threat before it got to him.
All is not lost. The Beastmen still gather outside the walls. As long as Prince Gross pathetically holds onto the infant, all will be fine. The horde will run this region to ruins, and march upon Akendorf. I might have to flee to the Bray-Shaman side, perhaps the beast would ally with a fellow member of the ruinous powers. Through that dim beast, I may find myself at the head of a great army that will burn Akendorf to theground. Lord Bell Von Quinn had already decided upon the approach he would undertake to see his plans come to fruition, an alternative branch to his original plan of overthrowing the rule of the Gross rulers and replacing it with the Von Quinn. Whether it is the ruler of Akendorf or the ruler of a pile of ashes, I will have the last laugh Prince Gross.
The Herald of Tzeentch giggled, not moving from its place, instead shifting into something with too many mouths. The smallest one spoke in a soft young female voice. "My master. The Changer of Ways laughs at your petty thoughts, but you will not leave this mansion today, nor will you find harbor at the side of the blessed prophet of the herd. Your end comes now, be prepared."
Lord Quinn grew rageful and screamed. "I have no time for your tricks daemon, go, do as your told and deal with the-"
A loud crash echoed from the lower tunnels beneath the mansion louder than the last, any time Lord von Quinn had, came to an end. The Herald of Tzeentch vanished, as the doors to Bell's secret chamber broke open with a rushing force that could only be described as titanic. Loose pages, ornaments, and trophies scattered across the floor, as the armored skeleton marched into the inner sanctum, in one hand a sword channeling powers beyond the wind of Dhar glowed menacingly, while in the other hand the armored monster held the head of a Wargor that Lord Bell had mentally broken into a powerful slave. The armored skeleton focused two light blue eyes upon Lord Bell, before the light turned from a bright blood to a crimson bloody red that narrowed upon Bell's existence. The Skeletal warriors spoke in a boom voice that echoed like a machine.
"Daemon has fled, damn you heretic. When I am finished with you I will hunt down the abomination." The voice held no glee, no wrath, nothing but the certainty of reality enforcing its orderly will down upon Lord Bell.
"Such Impudence, I will not suffer it, may your armor safety turn into a rusted prison." Lord Bell Raised his staff of changing ruin and called upon the winds of Dhar, collecting the powerful magical energies to unleash upon the mortal that dare....
A gauntleted fist hit Lord von Quinn with the force of a ogre, the wind of dhar fled as did the air from Bell's lungs. In the next couple of moments, more hits landed upon the Exalted Weaver, breaking his hand and forcing his magical staff to tumble to the floor. By the fourth hit Lord Bell wept like he was a child, the same day his father was executed by Prince Gross on false charges of treason. Eventually after the 6th strike, Lord Bell collapsed onto the floor, rolling up into a ball as the skeletal figured loomed above, occasionally kicking him, and looking down upon Bell with silent death stare.
"Mercy... mercy... please I have infinite knowledge... I can share it with you... please... no more." Already the regions that Lord Bell Von Quinn was struck at started swelling up, it became harder for the man to even speak. A force of magic unlike anything that Lord Bell Von Quinn had ever sensed grabbed hold of him, rising him onto his feet, then off the floor as if he was hanging off of a meat hook. "You... you're like me... A sorcerer... don't do this... together we can... we can take over Akendorf... No, the entire borderlands.... Please... Join m-"
"No! I have no intention of joining chaos. Oh no, I have only one intention for you my dear prisoner. Your twisted kind had ruined this setting for me, and I can not allow that to happen again. No, you are to be my first victim, and I plan to do to you what my favorite Orc did to that edge lord Archaeon the Neverchosen. So lets make old Fantasy lore Great Again!" Lord bell had no idea of what insanity that the armored sorcerer before him even spoke of, not a bit of it made any sense, not even for his mad mind. Instead Lord Bell Von Quinn's legs parted open by the force, nearly widening into a split that tore painfully into his side as he hovered over the ground. The armored skeleton raised a leg back, winding up for the tragedy that was to befall the last scion of House Von Quinn. Just as the blow came in the form of an armored boot, the skeletal warrior spoke screaming out loud. "FOR THE GOD EMPEROR!"
The blow that reached Lord Bell's nether regions could only be considered biblical. For with a broken strength of 300 and an unnatural strength talent of x10, Lord Bell's family jewel did not suffer simple discomfort, they did not get badly damaged, they did not even suffer irreversible. No, the lineage of the Von Quinn came to vaporized, somewhat atomized, and most definitely a gloriously gory mess of an end. The kick did not stop, only extended further out from Lord Bell's crotch and ran up all the way to his throat, with the armored boot literally kicking the head of Lord Bell Von Quinn off of his brutalized body only to hit the ceiling of the inner chamber. A loud splat noise echoed through the chamber when the head hit the ceiling, and again another splat noise echoed as the severed head landed onto the inner sanctum floor. The chaos sorcerer of Akendorf, the Exalted Weaver of the Conclave of the Indigo was no more. His murderer murmured in joy at the sight of the dark artifacts and gold that accompanied Lord Bell's corpse.
"Praise be to the Emperor, time to loot." Aedan muttered, before he snagged anything and everything of value.