Blandidir's dull eyes surveyed the near empty stock room with indifference. Soon the last of the coven's supplies would be loaded onto the wagons and thrashed south to the warband's new home. With many of their rivals disrupted, and the Deathfist to the east, there was little that could stand in the ways of their plans. It would be the simple, taxing chores of pretence for her in the coming days, as she acted in role as her master's savant and busied herself signing off the official papers that would see the large townhouse change hands once more. A fat, odious local butcher, heavy with coin after his financial success, had been more than eager to purchase the property and move his ever growing family within its handsome walls.
The dark elf sniffed softly, letting the soporific the filled the dusty room, enhance her senses once again. Pushing open a oaken door, she passed through a dimly lit corridor into a dank cell originally constructed as a kennel for the households canines. The low ceiling caused its occupant to bend their heads forwards and frown uncomfortably in the halflight. Spreadeagled before her on a wooden table lay the bandaged remains of a powerfully built human whose forehead erupted with a single, fleshy horn. Sickly blood glistened through the yellowing strips of cloth that covered his wounds while a fevered sweat clung to his skin like a death shroud.
It was clear to even the most unschooled that this man did not have long in this word.
The other occupants of the room bowed in respect as they caught sight of their priestess entrance. Silently, they watched her approach the wounded man and cast her cool gaze over his savaged body.
"Where did you recover him?" She asked, her voice but an accented whisper in the tiny room.
"Along the Forest Road, High One, alongside one other. He was dead. We found other bodies too, but none were worshippers of the True Gods." Came the quick response from one of the men.
"There was evidence of a small battle," his companion continued, "most likely undead from the amount of bone we found scattered. Whole ranks of them. We treated this one on the spot and brought him back her for you."
"You did well," Blandidir said. She raised her hands and placed them on the wounded man's chest. "let's found out what he knows," she said softly before plunging her fingers through the man's chest and deep into his heart...
As I mentioned last week, I had the pleasure of taking part in an excellent game of Warhammer Fantasy Battle at Slayer Gaming in Mansfield. Well, the scenario has been written up by Warlord Paul and can be seen here.
Its well worth a read. I have pinched a fair few pictures from his blog post but there are many, many more to enjoy via The Black Hole itself. So don't hesitate to visit when you have finished here. Here are the pics...
|Chaos thugs and mutants in the service of the Deathfist skirmish with ogre near a tollbooth while a Black Orc looks on.|
|Grimgrunt, one of the Deathfist's disciples, fells the ogre with a blade in the back as blood maddened beastmen advance.|
|Behold the unheavenly host of the Deathfist!|
|Ulther Deathfist marches with his elite bodyguard beneath his sacred battlebanner! His newly recruited chaos dwarfs heft their artillery forwards in support.|
|Mastering their fear at last, the Warriors of Khorne clash with the undead legions.|
The Seeress sat back and stilled her whirling eyes. Vassel had served his purpose once again and had informed her of what she needed to know to please her master.
"They are on the move, Lord Deathfist, though to where I cannot yet fathom. Vassel does not yet know himself, but when he does we shall know too."
Ulther Deathfist sat back on his throne of skulls and flexed the massive gauntlets that served for his hands before looking down at his servant. She had read the bloodauger well and should be rewarded. Motioning with his hand, a beastman stepped forwards and scattered the red stones across the sand of his throne room. Gorestones! Prized pieces of Khorne's blood solidified by the aeons and the perfect foil for cowardly magic.
As his followers roared with approval, the Deathfist contemplated the future. Soon it would be time to challenge that Dark Elf bitch properly. Until then, he planned to continue to build up his forces, something that would be made even easier as news of his victory over the weak dead ones spread through the Drakwald forest, and consolidate his position.
Yes, soon... Perhaps even in time for Geheimsnisnacht!
Underneath the chaos helm that made up his ravaged face the split lips curled into a smile.