Guest written by MB
Two ghostly apparitions floated in the eerie landscape of Hallost’s many haunted plains.
‘Would you hurry up!’, demanded the green tinted apparition.
‘I just do not understand the hurry. In this state… We have all the time…’, commented the red one. The green apparition initially just scoffed, but then tried to entice the companion’s curiosity.
‘Bludd told me of a great skirmish. It is just over this hill. Hurry!’, the green’s misty emanation expanded two-fold as it darted towards the crest of the hill.
‘Now this is interesting’, confirmed the formerly reluctant red apparition once it also reached the hill’s top.
‘I told you, Bludd always recommends the best’, Green said.
‘Right, Bludd…’, Red wanted to comment something but held it for itself. ‘…And who fought here?’, Red asked instead. Green flew to what looked like the starting point of one of the sides.
‘Here? Well, Bludd said Idoneth of…’, Green tried to remember what Bludd said ‘… of… Mor’phaan? Wait! No! Idoneth of Dhom-Hainn. Yes, Bludd said, Dhom-Hainn’, Green explained with naïve joy.
‘Deepkin? Scary sea-tales do not fight battles’, said Red in a very annoyed voice as he looked down at the footprints of troops mustering into battle-lines. ‘These do not look very nautical’, it concluded.
‘When you came here you told me that you did not believe in the Ghouls or Bonereapers either, until mortal you was knee deep in crushed reanimated bone creatures. Once you gloriously fell in battle from the sixth wave of those creatures you became a believer. Albeit for just a short time’, reminded Green.
‘So what?’, asked Red. ‘Are you questioning my battles?’, Red went mad.
‘No, not at all. All I am saying is … keep an open mind. Also Bludd would not lie, would---?’, Green tried to say it as a matter-of-fact.
‘Alright. Alright’, Red shouted, cutting Green’s words off. ‘Bludd. Bludd. Bludd’, Red enumerated with sarcasm.
‘Jealous?’, asked an amused Green. The other one’s features became livid. ‘What? No!’, Red tried to defend. Green continued to be amused, looking at the other apparition trying to form understandable sentences.
‘You know what? No. I will not even try’, Red said, finally giving up. ‘So? What did Bludd say about these Deepkin’, asked a defeated Red.
‘Let’s start with their leaders’, said Green.
***
‘It’s not enough’, Nithral said to himself. The Isharann Soulrenderer was uneasy for a while now. In his head, he obsessively kept adding the souls he collected on the campaign and the sum he was getting did not ease his anxiety.
‘At this rate I will fall short. Abysmally short’, he whispered by himself. He felt a dark place forming in his chest. Painful. It pulled on him and he felt that it would implode his chest. He longed for an easy breath. A fear of suffocation gripped him. Was he exposed to the air? Drowning in the air of the surface dwellers became a real concern. So he looked at his fellow Isharann Tidecaster and told her to check if her spell for the ethersea was not faltering.
She barked back annoyed at such a request, if the spell was faltering they would be in greater distress and she does not make mistakes. Nithral sunk back into his thoughts redoing his calculation and collection predictions again and again.
The Tidecaster darted ahead. Fuming. But she was not particularly annoyed by Nithral’s comments. It miffed her, yes, but other reasons weight heavier on her.
Cathala, the Tidecaster, was exposed since childbirth to the unhealthy obsession of her people. The obsession that their souls were in a way stained by their interaction with the gluttonous Slannesh. That somehow the chaos god’s corruption survived after their release.
The greater corruption surviving as a small kernel hidden deep in their soul. They feared the kernel would one day find fertile nutrients and start to grow and corrupt… and degenerate the affected person.
Such a mental landscape surrounded the young Cathala while she grew. Once matured she coped with the looming issue by going on a methodical and some would say obsessive regiment of cleansing. She kept herself and her surroundings spotless. She figured that the methodical purification is mechanically and philosophically anathema to any chaos god and their corrupting powers.
The tranquility she reached, if allowed to do all her rituals, made her a confident spellcaster. A dominant figure in any encounter. A literal tidal wave of the Apocalypse.
Sadly, the lightning nature of this campaign seeped into the reality of camp life, into the rigor of marching and into the messiness of battle. All of those conspired this time against her. Her backlog of much needed cleaning grew exponentially with each day. She felt disgusted.
‘Just a few measly hours’, she commented when she was far ahead of Nithral. That is all she thought she needed to clean herself, but Nithral was driven hard by his mission.
***
‘Broken’, said Red.
‘People of their times’, confirmed Green.
‘And who was over there?’, asked Red gliding to the other side of the battlefield.
‘Here?’, Green joined Red well behind the battle lines.
‘Yes, here’, answered Red.
‘There, were you are now, was a Demon Prince, a Shamaness and a Sorcerer. All three arguing’, said Green.
***
‘Eighteen!’, the Sorcerer took the opportunity to talk first.
‘What? No. Twenty two. That is all’, the Demon Prince’s scabs bobbed on his belly as he ended his sentence with a chuckle.
‘You are both conservative, the Shamaness concluded. ‘You can go as far as thirty’, she added her interpretation.
‘Thirty?’, the Demon Prince and the Sorcerer looked at her with disbelieving but hungry eyes.
‘Yes. Thirty separate wound infections. More and the afflicted would die immediately’, she spoke with confidence. ‘Dying immediately is not good. Because--’, she started saying.
‘We know. “Lives should not be wasted. They should be spent wisely.” You told us multiple times’, both regurgitated her often spoken mantra.
‘There we go’, she said satisfied.
‘I still do not believe you can go that far’, said the Demon Prince. ‘I’ve seen many battles and--’
‘Takes a bit of preparation’, the Shamaness cut him off to show three vials, two bottles and four jugs of foul looking substances, some having ill-looking organic tissue floating around. ‘I can do a little demonstration’, she announced.
‘Even so, it is too much. It would be insanity to try’, the Sorcerer shared his opinion rashly, a bit tinted by strategic considerations.
‘No. Let her put her infections where her mouth is’, demanded the Demon Prince with a jolly grin. ‘If she manages, we will know how to share the love of our Grandfather even more.’
‘Perhaps’, the Sorcerer began to say juggling his faith and position as commander, ‘Alright, it will be an interesting inquiry into the matter’, he said overwhelmed with curiosity. ‘Show us during our next skirmish’, he said to the Shamaness. She accepted with masochistic glee. The three and their host continued further without any arguments, preferring to hum to a merry chant about blisters, fevers and weeping sores.
***
‘Wait. If these came through here and the Idoneth came from there… That means…’, Red started to piece things together.
‘Yes, both hosts were going to the shrines’, added Green after Red took too much time to say anything. Red looked annoyed again since it wanted to announce the finding.
‘Let me tell you about the carnage. Maybe you will feel better’, said Green. Red nodded pleasantly.
Green painted an image of the two battle lines forming. Red settled to hear the story.
***
‘This is taking forever!’, shouted Theddra the Shamaness to Septimus the Sorcerer as their line moved slowly through the ossuary towards the Idoneth line.
‘Do you not have a task to do, Theddra?!’, shouted Septimus verily pissed off. Battle has started. He did not like to have his tactics questioned during battle. He pointed towards the shrines. ‘Fix those first and then you can bite!’, he ordered her. Appealing to her primordial battle hungry spirit. A tribal whoop ensued and she darted to the closest shrine.
***
Nithral the Isharann Soulrenderer watched the succulent souls marching slowly towards his lines. One cavalry change and those would be his. He barely contained himself to order the charge. He held one arm with the other to stop himself for ordering something he would regret. However, he strained at the thought the he was missing an opportunity.
‘I must look away’, he urged himself.
He turned away. He was now looking at his lines. At his deepkin. He looked beyond the flesh. He saw all the souls he would personally loose to a rash decision.
‘But the soul harvest?’, a voice echoed in his mind. ‘I need them. I have made the calculations. Results are lacking’, explained the voice. ‘Yes, some might fall. However, that is war. Sacrifices and toil is expected for a bountiful harvest’, the voice made a lot of sense. Nithral let go of his hand. It was free to give the command. For the first time a greedy grin emerged on his face. ‘Yes, smash them. Claim their souls!’, his internal voice said. Nithral stood his ground. Preparing to issue an order.
‘Archers! Level them to the ground!’, he shouted, raising his arm. He conquered his rashness. For a moment, Nithral was happy. Not for long though. The tides of battle always change and the unprepared tend to drown in defeat. Nithral focused mainly on the battle, fighting both the enemy outside and the enemy within. The shrines became an afterthought.
On the other hand, Cathala the Tidecaster was losing focus ever since the battle lines were drawn. The appearance of the unclean hordes of Nurgle sent a cold shock through her body. She was already slightly unclean. Therefore, the thought of coming into additional contact with any of the ill assortment of degenerate flesh unhinged her with every sight she took and with every breath she took of the smelling atmosphere.
She tried to focus on the tactical battle. She failed. More and more of her willpower was focusing internally trying to stop herself from fleeing.
***
‘Stupid, aelf-fish’, roared Septimus seeing arrows thud into his warriors. He wanted a rash Idoneth charge, but he got a rain of arrows.
‘Now!?’, asked Rotgut the Ascended, his demon prince wings stretching with anticipation.
‘Yes, now’, shouted Septimus with an overpowering smudge of sarcasm. ‘Seems the aelf-fish are too shy to battle us properly. No matter. Ruin shall come to them’, Septimus waxed poetically. He ordered his entire line to move against his enemy.
On one of the flanks, Theddra communed with the first shrine and she saw the chaos line double time over the battlefield.
‘It was about time’, she commented while planning her route to the second shrine.
***
The chaos cavalry was first upon the Idoneth line. Nithral and a reluctant Cathala oversaw warriors that erected a wall of halberds against the chaos charge. A giant crash ensued. Blood and puss spilled from it.
The mercenary Phoenix Guard survived unscathed from the charge, but after the dust settled poor Cathala was on the edge of a complete mental breakdown.
Due to her unfortunate positioning, she realized that bits and liquid dislodged from her foes run-in with the sharp halberds found its way upon her.
She shivered in disgust and froze into place.
‘Cathala!?’, shouted Nithral. ‘Are you alright?’, he asked desperately. The Tidecaster replied with a blank stare. Nithral tried to wake his fellow Idoneth into action, but nothing could rouse her back. He gave out a defeated sigh and showed her the backline.
‘Fall back. Rest’, he urged. Her senses returned enough for her to walk in a zombie-like march. She stopped to wipe her face and heard behind her the chaos infantry engage with her lines. Nithral was frantic in trying to organize his infantry, launch his cavalry and maybe reach a shrine.
***
‘Still dry?’, asked Thedda the Shamaness, trying to goad the Demon Prince into more bloodshed. Rotgut looked as the Shamaness glide towards the other flank to commune with the second shrine.
‘Enjoying your stroll, dear?’, Rotgut shouted back. ‘How many do you want me to leave for your little show and tell?’, he asked getting ready to pulverize a line of Namarti Thralls.
‘I’m sure plenty will remain once I’m done with the second shrine’, she said. Rotgut just giggled in a grandfatherly way as his giant sword was swooping into deepkin flesh.
***
‘Looks like the fulcrum was here’, said Red circling a spot on the battlefield.
‘Yes this is where the grind happened’, answered Green. ‘But the best action was on the flanks with the cavalry’, Green gushed with enthusiasm. ‘Cavalry life is the best!’, came a confession from Green. The enthusiasm died when Green said “life”.
‘You were cavalry? You know, before…’, asked Red.
‘Yes’, answered Green.
‘Strange. I always pictured you as a skirmisher’, said Red.
‘No. No. No. Mounted warrior. That was me’, spoke Green with its fire extinguished.
‘I see’, said Red. ‘And what exactly happened on the flanks?’, asked Red. ‘What did the cavalry actually do there?’, it continued to ask for more from Green.
‘Ah, well, you see…’, Green bounced back after a while. It spoke of a great clash between the shark mounted deepkin and the chaos cavalry. They bruised and butchered themselves until the chaos cavalry was no more. ‘Do not be disappointed, brethren! More are coming!’, Green impersonated the shark cavalry leader as he saw a unit of chaos warriors bearing down on them.
‘And on the other flank?’, asked Red. Green returned to its bubbly self. ‘Oh, this is the best part! Picture this. Deepkin on eels slithering towards the center of the battlefield. Trampling and gutting every foe in their path’, Green motioned their progress.
‘Really?’, asked politely Red.
‘Oh, yes! Not even the great Demon Prince of Nurgle could hold himself alive in the face of such brilliant cavalry action. Twenty stab wounds and he was Rotgut the Dead’, said Green.
‘What happened to Septimus?’, asked Red.
***
‘Where in the bloody, fever drenched Garden of the Father are you?!’, screamed Thedda looking for Septimus. Their lines were faltering everywhere. The infantry reduced to a few warriors. The cavalry no more. The Demon Prince fallen. The enemy commander abandoned the second shrine choosing to focus on their complete destruction.
‘Here!’, he said behind a wall trying to dodge arrows from enemy archers.
‘What shall we do?’, she asked. ‘I do not want to flee!’, she pleaded.
‘I don’t want to either!’, Septimus said getting almost too close into the fly path of an arrow. ‘I do not know… Do you see a path to the third shrine?’, he asked knowing he cannot reach it as he was pinned down.
‘I … maybe… I do not know…’, she said half-heartedly. Sharp Idoneth halberds were very close and their Eel Cavalry was barreling down. She looked at the three remaining chaos warriors and two of her remaining barbarian companions and nodded towards the central and final shrine.
***
‘What?!’, said Nithral audibly as he saw the desperate chaos charge towards the central shrine. He lost interest in killing the enemy commander with arrow fire and instead focused on getting the Phoenix Guard to surround the shrine.
The remaining Guard formed their line and felt the brunt of the chaos weapons on them. Nithral urged them to hold, because if the line remained it would mean certain the defeat for the slaves to darkness as the Eels were closing in and still hungry.
The enemy Shamaness pushed in without caring for personal safety. Her body was covered in wound after wound. Her sheer determination broke through the Phoenix Guard and placed her hand on the shrine. They tried to break her, plastering another set of gashes into her thigh, but she stood tall and completed her communion with the shrine.
It was over. The Guard was the first to understand it and they broke. Nithral was the second and he ordered a full retreat of all Idoneth forces from the battlefield.
***
‘You did it!’, shouted Septimus emerging from behind his ruined wall. Theddra, bloodied, turned her body towards the chaos sorcerer.
‘Forty three wounds’, she said proudly waving towards herself.
‘I do not know how you are still standing’, said Septimus.
‘Preparations’, she uttered before collapsing to the ground. The remaining warriors around her picked her up and carried her away to safety.
***
The two ghostly apparitions became attentive to something in the distance.
‘Bludd?’, asked Red.
‘Bludd’, answered Green.
‘Do you think it is about the feast upon the vanquished?’, Red asked again.
‘I…’, Green began to speak but stopped looking around the battlefield. ‘Yes, we should go. It gets angry if we do not obey’, Green finally said. Red tried to comfort its companion as they floated away from the battlefield.
‘For a former mounted warrior, you are a bit slow’, Red taunted Green from the top of a hill. ‘There are times the cavalry should take their sweet time’, Green answered with a smile towards Red. ‘Which reminds me… I should tell you about the time we charged a hill…’, started Green to tell one of it’s story.
‘A hill?’, asked an amused Red.
‘Yes. A hill!’, Green recounted amused, their tale slowly fading as they both melted into the haunted landscape of Hallost.
