125 (last)
Kal sat crosslegged in the throneroom of the Queen’s tower in Tor Lithanel. He has just notified his mother that the dragon has flown south just as the sun is rising. The rebellious Glade Lord is bound in chains in front of him. While Marissith still shuddering on her throne leaking copious amounts of semen from her pussy after Kal fucked her the whole night while keep asking her questions. Now he is staring intently at the bound Glade Lord that stares back at him with disgust. He also noticed that she also stared back at her queen, the one that has a position similar to his mother in the herd, with the same disgust. Which is somewhat confusing to him. It is normal for a leader of one herd to kill the leader of the other herd and absorb the member of the defeated herd. This is how it always works with the lesser beastmen that gather after his mother established her Herdstone. The fact that Marissith is alive is already generous and that she is also related to his mother. Then there is also the fact that after questioning Marissith the night before, apparently the Glade Lord is not challenging him for leadership like beastmen do. But she is challenging him for something.
“You going to keep staring or rape me like your kind usually does or what?” The glade lord finally spoke first after long silence
“Why do you challenge me?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then teach me.”
The glade lord spat and Kal’s fingers crumpled into a fist with snapping sounds. His fist almost flies to the glade lord’s head. But he can’t have her killed. Not yet. But he has something else in mind.
“I once saw an elven healer. She has blood red hair.” The Glade Lord stiffens but tries to hide it
“What about her?” She feign
“It is faint now, but before the battle, she had a similar smell to you. What should I do with her?” Kal looked to the distance, opening his mouth, revealing not the teeth of grazing animals but fangs of beasts and snaps shut with a loud sound.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” The Glade Lord immediately cracks.
Kal laughs. Even he doesn't know that it will be this effective. Only that the previous rebellious Eonir he and Druig killed seems to put emphasis on their children’s safety.
“So?” Kal then asks. Answering certainly easier than the cost of another.
“You want to know why!? It’s unnatural, that's what it is! Your kind are an abomination! A living insult to the Weave! You taint our hallowed forest as you rut and spawn! I pray that every arrow finds you, every flame consumes you, and every blade drinks deep until the last of you vile creatures are dead and burnt to ash!”
Kal thinks as he listens. He certainly doesn’t know what unnatural means, not the Weave either. He will need to confirm with his mother later. But there is one thing which is clear.
“By your thinking, we should also kill all the Eonir elves and burn this hallowed forest until nothing remains.” Kal surmised.
The Glade Lord shudders at the realization but still shows her defiance. Barring what currently happens in Laurelorn, this is what should’ve happened. Kal however have something else in mind.
“What is the punishment for bringing death to all other elves and the burning of the forest?” Kal asks Marissith that have just recovered.
This is what he gets from questioning Marissith. As his way of punishing rebellious elves in the herd is not effective then perhaps the elves' way of punishing is more effective. The Glade Lord immediately looked at Marissith in fear while Marissith looked away. Blocking the stare the Glade Lord bore at her with her hand before finally answering.
“She… will be exiled from Laurelorn, and all other elven realms. Never to return here.” Marissith reluctantly and weakly spoke her judgement.
“NO! Please NOOO! JUST KILL ME! Please.” But the Glade Lord’s suddenly become hysterical.
Kal immediately frowns. That’s it? Is Marissith deceiving him to protect her subject? But the reaction from the Glade lord’s made it seem like it is very serious. He contemplates killing the Glade Lord here and now. But he is curious on how it turns out.
“So be it.”
Then Kal stomps his hoof to the floor, the sound echoing through the tower. All the while the Glade Lord kept insulting him in an effort to make him kill her. The door to the throneroom opened. Two armored Eonir royal guards and two armored golden bestigors entered.
“What about my daughter?” The Glade Lord in a brief moment of lucidity in her hysterics asked.
Then Solas appears beside her. In his hand is a thin braid of red hair.
“Too late.” Solas giggled.
The Glade Lord screams even louder than before. Tears streaming from her eyes. But then the thin braid of hair returns into an illusory feather in his hands.
“Or am I?” Solas joked and giggled even more seeing the Glade Lord’s stumped expression.
“She is exiled from Laurelorn and all other elven realms. Never to return here.” Kal repeats Marissith’s punishment to the four guards.
The Eonir royal guards looked at their queen in disbelief, the bestigors bumps their side as they move forward without hesitation. When their queen nods, the two royal guards move to the Glade Lord, removing the Bestigors hands on her and carrying her out themselves. The Bestigors just shrugged and followed along the royal guards. All the while the Glade Lord is screaming if her daughter is alive or not.
“You’ll never know.” Solas answers before mocking her by sticking his tongue out.
The door shuts and Kal grabs Solas’ head. He never understood his son’s pranks. But if Solas is already here and hiding with his feathers then perhaps even he feels the punishment is not heavy enough. But it also means that Solas also doesn’t understand why this punishment is considered very heavy among the elves. For now though, he needs to think about what to do to a red haired elven healer.
Later both will understand that an exile carries the risk that the exile’s soul will not return to the forest or afterlife they belong to. Forever separated with their loved ones in life and in death.
—
Druig reached Dietershafen at sundown, one of Nordland’s coastal cities under siege. The winter’s snow harshly covers the landscape. The Noscan surrounded the city far enough that guns from the battlements couldn't reach. All the while the Norscan have cut down the surrounding forest to make fortifications and siegeworks. Turning it into a wasteland. Druig, hidden with his illusory feathers and part of the forest far enough to not be cut, snorts as he sees half the fleet he is following already beached while the other half break off and continue sailing or beached elsewhere as there are too many ships with many different symbols patterned on their sails. Trying to count them again from this distance will be a chore. Maybe he should have listened more when his mother was teaching them about numbers. Something he decided to not be important as there are his smarter brother and sister.
Then he looks back at the humans he is herding. They are more compliant now once the more obedient red haired elven healer his brother sends helps. He would appreciate it if his brother sends some warriors or archers instead. He can deal with whatever elven challenger might appear amongst them. Then again, he won’t mind having a challenge in the coming fight. Druig comes to the humans he is herding. The humans all backed off in fear but not the elven healer.
“Get all your warriors ready and follow me.” Druig points his huge finger at the Nordland captain who somewhat holds his ground.
“A-all of us?” The captain stutters.
“You not fighting for your herdstone?”
The red haired elven healer explains that Druig meant their city. Some reckless young men answers and stands. Then slowly the others follow. The women tries to stop them and some older men console them on who’s gonna keep in check with the reckless fools. Some more frightened women ask then what about us. Druig then throws her the gun the humans are using. He has seen the human women reload the guns and it means they can use them. Then command the men to leave the guns to the women. They won’t need the guns when they will be charging with his minotaurs.
“We will charge at them?” The human captain asks.
“You only need to deal with the stragglers.” Druig encouraged. Few minotaurs in earshot chuckles.
Then the minotaurs and the men leave to the edge of the forest. Druig stops and the warherd follows. Then Druig began stomping. His fist burning before he strikes his greataxe with his fist. Making a loud metallic sound that made the human ears ring. The rest of the minotaurs follow, stomping and banging their weapons together. The stomping and the banging of steel made the soldier’s hearts beat faster. Some overeager young men even unconsciously follow stomping with his boots.
Then with Druig’s roar, a stampede of a few hundred golden minotaurs storms from the forest. Followed with the shouts of men behind them. The norscan marauders already prepared from the news of another clan that Kal pushed back. But of course the sight of a few hundred golden minotaur charging straight at them is nothing short of terrifying. Many tried to disperse and only some followers of the Blood Hound (Khorne) charged back.
The norscan tried to disperse. Those cannot be trampled and immediately cut down. The minotaurs charged straight through the Norscan in a symphony of stomping hooves, crushed bodies, and dying screams. Those that are not killed or trampled are immediately cut down by the human soldiers that finally catch up.
Chaotic fight ensues as there is no line, no order, just constant bloodbath. A feast of blood, gore, and hacked limbs with every swing of the minotaur’s axes. The minotaurs rampaged through the west side of Dietershafen, almost wiping out all the Norscan raiders in minutes. They then move to the south of Dietershafen where chaos warriors by the thousands await them. The chaos warriors, standing on the south in wait from Nordland reinforcement from Salzemund are now fighting the minotaurs. The golden minotaurs roared as they charged the chaos warriors, trampling two to three of the frontest rows before the momentum finally slowed and the chaotic combat continued.
But the south of Dietershafen is where the bulk of the Norscan warriors and here are also their sorcerers. The air grows heavy as winds of magic, corrupted by taint of chaos gathers. Spells, much easier to cast and more powerful now because of the Golden Horde’s herdstone strikes. Blightstorms vortexes from the sorcerers of Nurgle move indiscriminately in the chaos. More affecting the Nordland soldiers that get too close to the thick of the fight than the minotaurs and the chaos warriors. Then the hail of blue fires of Tzeentch. The chaos warriors buffed with Norscan sorcerers that the fight finally became a standstill. The first golden minotaur finally falls, taking ten chaos warriors with him. But there were still thousands of the chaos warriors left.
The human captain suffering some wounds on himself helps pull his men from being engulfed by the blightstorms and away into safety. Then he fumbled to the flare gun on his hips before shooting a flare up to catch the attention of the men on the battlement. The captain shouts to the men in Dietershafen to sally out but the sound of the fighting drowns his voice. He keeps shouting to sally out that they can break the siege. Making a military gesture for charge as he sees what looks to be a sergeant among the men on the battlement. The only thing the captain sees then are the men on the battlement moving away. Not knowing they will heed his words or not.
The Norscan surrounding the east of Dietershafen come to the south to join the fight. Attempting to encircle the golden minotaurs. The Nordland soldiers following the minotaurs try to buy time and stop them. They can run away, few already did. But most continue to fight. Their number dwindles as they are outnumbered.
Then a loud horn sounded from Dietershafen as the last Norscan from the east passed the southern gate. The gate opened and streams of Tilean mercenary cavalry rode out. Riding through the dispersed and disorganized back of the Norscan raiders. Cutting down any Norscan in their path. Swiftly they moved to the back of the chaos warriors and sorcerers, seemingly to charge at them. Then suddenly change course to ride further west when the chaos warriors took notice and many break off from the chaotic fight to prepare for the cavalry. A feint and their real purpose is to support the Nordland soldiers fighting alongside the minotaurs. A few sorcerers also switched their target, casting their spell towards the cavalry and catching mercenaries unlucky enough or not riding fast enough in blue fire or blightstorm.
When the dust settles as the cavalry have rode west, an entire regiment of Nordland gunners is already in range and aiming at the chaos warriors. Nordland Marines, in their distinct blue and yellow uniform. One more regiment almost finished making their formation and another still moving from the city. Followed by the garrison and militia of the city. The first gunner regiment opened fire. Not killing any of the chaos warriors but wounding many. A lucky shot hit a sorcerer of Tzeentch who fumbled his cast. His head immediately bloated ten times its size before exploding in an explosion of magic and gore. Throwing off many other sorcerers and chaos warriors near him. Within the ranks of the golden minotaurs, bombarded by hail of blue fire of Tzeentch and blightstorm, one catches a chaos warrior of Khorne in one of his hands and swatted the last blue fire targeting him with the chaos warrior’s body. The chaos warriors had yet to split their number to deal with the Nordland from Dietershafen but the standstill was already broken and the chaos warriors were pushed back again.
The Elector Count of Nordland, Theoderic Gausser arrives with his reinforcement. Knights of the North Star, protector of Nordland in their midnight blue and black armor. Even they have heard the audacious rumors of golden beastmen attempting to ally themselves with the empire but seeing them now is another thing entirely.
“Prepare to charge.” Gausser immediately commands.
“But my lord-” The knight commander tries to reason
“Are you blind!? I can’t let the victory be because of beastmen and not of the empire’s might.” Gausser immediately shuts him down.
The knight commander nods and after rearranging the lines, the count charges with him at the very front, his Runefang raised high. With the last ray of the sun on the horizon and the twin moon already high in the sky, his magical sword reflected their light and became the brightest thing on the battlefield. Blinding the chaos warriors and servants of the dark gods. The battle ends swiftly after and becomes the first recorded battle of beastmen fighting alongside the empire.
—
Then Lak at the Black Ark back at the herdstone. She found herself increasingly immersed with the books in the modest library of the previous Dreadlord of the Black Ark that has been mostly emptied. Most importantly she found plenty of other magical books. The books have much crueler spells and much more interesting application than the book her mother has. Not that her mother’s book is bad but it seems like she is not exactly compatible with the magic taught by the book. But not these ones from the black ark though.
Again she heard whispers coming from her hand mirror and again she casted a simple spell that silences the voice. An abjuration and sealing magic that seems like the only thing she can learn from the Book of Hoeth. Fortunately she recognizes the hand mirror as a cursed object after reading the Book of Hoeth and learned how to properly deal with it. It was annoying at first but it did try to influence her thoughts. She didn’t tell her mother but the hand mirror kept pestering her to return to the black ark and that is embarrassing to admit.
With a dismissive gesture, he put the hand mirror to the crate of artifacts from the black ark that she had finished appraising. Not knowing and realizing that within the hand mirror is a greater daemon of Slaanesh lying in wait. And it has started to learn patience.
Later another beastmen arrives to pick up the crate and move the artifacts somewhere else. The herdstone bustled with activity. As the golden beastmen continue to multiply, as well as the arriving merchant caravan from Cathay as well as the first merchant caravan from Tilea arrives to test the Herdstone gate. As the beastmen carrying the crate moved through the crowded road, the greater daemon simply nudged the mirror it was in to simply fall. Then a hand found the mirror. Both the mirror and its new owner are never to be seen again.
—
“This is… not the sanctuary.” I realized that I am somewhere else.
My connection to Elven Valariel is not here and my soul forge is similarly absent. I only remember suddenly feeling sleepy and going to sleep. Then a familiar pressure of attention returns. Oh, I was ‘invited’ by the chaos gods.
“THERE YOU ARE!” Khorne's voice. Singular and deafening.
“Fence sitter.” Accuses Tzeentch. Thousands of voices, echoing, overlapping, discordant.
“Naughty child.” Nurgle voices his disappointment. Deep and old.
“You know why we are here.” Lastly came the voice of Slaanesh. Changing between feminine, androgynous, and masculine with every syllable and still equally seductive.
“You want to use my gate.” I said and all four agreed.
Then visions came on the many things offered. From Khorne, a portion of all the souls claimed as they took over this world. From Tzeentch is an access to his library and all the ‘fun’ it contains. From Nurgle is a piece of all living things he has in his hands. Then from Slaanesh is their own very bed.
“What happens if I say no?” I ask in genuine curiosity and the four happily obliges.
Then visions of my children, dying one by one came.
Kal with a knife on his back. The eye of Tzeentch widened on the knife’s hilt. Looking straight at me. “His insight can only go so far.” Then followed by Tzeentch loud echoing and overlapping laughter.
Lak dying fighting against a greater daemon of slaanesh she unwittingly let loose. Skinned alive and her soul bound to the pelt. “She can’t see what unrestrained gifts I can offer. But her pelt is pretty enough.” Came the sweet, seductive, feminine, androgynous, and masculine voice of Slaanesh.
Wolfe dying and plagued. Surrounded by daemons of Nurgle led by the remnant of his old severed head. The wolf god has long died. “His chase finally ends.” Comforts Nurgle as Wolfe finally succumbs.
Druig and Bertrand with plenty of wounds struggle to stand. Druig then said “For my brothers.” Bertrand then said “I can follow that.” Both charged at Skarbrand and many other bloodthirster behind him. No words from Khorne, other than his laughter at the slaughter that came.
Dorn, the Cygor with the sun between his horns. Bigger than ever throws a massive activated warpstone crystal equal to his size to an enemy far in the distance before roaring at the crimson sky as hundreds of Chaos Dwarves artillery rains down upon him.
Chagatai and Khutulun and few of the last ogre tribes in their resistance against the black orks
Bel-Ardraion, already grown into adulthood, far too late, rampaging across the wasteland of corpses, corrupted dragons, chaos spawns, many champions of chaos. Still dozen greater daemons from the four chaos gods come and try to overpower him. Its three heads roar in defiance and continue fighting.
“This is your last offer.”
I gasp awake back in my tent. Contemplating on the choices I have. Then I recalled all my children before finally deciding.