It is a clear, cool night in the Weald. The stars shine visible for all to see in the deep blue sky. The air is filled with the sounds of chirping insects, and camp members are sharing food around scattered campfires. It is peaceful. Veiðan and Hitomi decide to take advantage of the quiet and go for a walk together, a rare treat for the Hitomi: The healer often has enough patients to keep her in camp most days. However, it’s not hard to find other healers to take over when the workload is light, and tonight, she could use a break. She’s wearing a rather pretty evening dress. Veiðan is wearing a sort of leather and sleevless jacket with fur lining and some sturdy pants with greaves. She carries her boss choppa on her back wherever she goes, and tonight was no different. Hitomi usually carried her wakizashi as discretely as she could whenever she was out of camp. They held hands as they exited camp, motioning to the sentry that they are going out into the field outside camp.
Hitomi looks up and admires the stars.
“They’re so beautiful,” she says, wistfully. “I could stare at them for hours… and have.”
Veiðan looks up from Hitomi to the sky. “I’ve loved them since I was little. My mother would drag me back into the house at night.”
Hitomi laughs. “You mean she didn’t drag you inside for a lot of things?” she says giggling.
Veiðan grins. “I never said that.”
Hitomi laughs more “You drove her crazy, I know you did. You had to’ve.” Now she’s full on laughing while speaking. “You probably tried to take up arms at the age of 9, and by 10 were trying to kill bears with only your hands. Or were you only picking bad branches to land on while jumping from trees? No, wait, you were always carrying a weapon around the house. That’s it. Had a knack for sharp objects as a toddler.”
Now Veiðan can no longer hold in her laughter under Hitomi’s relentless onslaught. “What did I do to deserve this?” she says, laughing all the more. “You’re on thin ice now.”
Hitomi raises an eyebrow “Oh, what are you gonna do? Confine me to camp? I’m already there by choice anyway!”
Veiðan full on smiles now “No, I’ll carry you back myself.” She moves to sweep Hitomi off her legs. Hitomi tries to dodge playfully but Veiðan was much stronger and won out quickly, bridal carrying her as they laugh and laugh.
“I’m in the clutches of a Warboss!” Hitomi calls out
Veiðan keeps laughing, not always knowing how to go along with Hitomi’s playfulness. Soon, it turns into embrace instead. They touch foreheads, and then look to the sky.
“It is beautiful,” Veiðan says.
“You travel a lot, have you seen the skies across the realms?” Hitomi asks.
“Yes. They’re all beautiful.” Then she sets Hitomi down.
Hitomi shivers a little as a breeze comes off the plains. Veiðan puts her fur outer wear around her, showing that, exactly as she always advises her Tribe, she’s wearing some leather armor underneath.
Hitomi makes no mention or smart aleck comment about it. She’s completely unsurprised.
Nearby, a twig snaps. Perhaps not an unusual sound out here, but there’s something about it that alarms Veiðan.
Veiðan immediately turns her head towards the sound. Her muscles tighten, then relax. Hitomi sees this.
“What do you see?”
“Nothing.”
“I bet it was an animal.”
“No. Something’s not right.”
She breathes in and out deeply, feeling out her surroundings.
Suddenly, several figures emerge from the brush. How Veiðan did not see them she doesn’t know, but now it matters not. They are well-muscled, sporting robes about their waists and clad in gleaming golden masks.
“For the Great Eagle!”
Veiðan immediately moves to stand between them and Hitomi. She draws her boss choppa off her back and scans the environment quickly. “Just them,” she thought. Hitomi drew her wakizashi from the back of her dress.
Veiðan’s fury from Hitomi being threatened was indescribale. Her eyes blazed with rage at the sight of every cultist. Her nostrils flared as her breathing quickened. Every exhale is an audible husky growl, an insufficient outlet for her immense anger. A fire grew in her chest. She tightened her grip on her choppa. There were no thoughts, only a combination of immense rage, hatred, and need to protect.
Hitomi, in sharp contrast, kept a cool demeanor. She merely stood staring, waiting with her weapon in hand.
The arcanites lope forward, their masks gleaming in the moonlight. Blades drawn, they are reminiscent of the kind of human tribe Veiðan is familiar with, only twisted beyond recognition. Where there should be honor, they ambush a warlord and her lover, alone. Where there should be courage, they instead stagger their advance, making sure to avoid Veiðan’s axe. Where there should be primal ferocity, there is only cold cunning and the self-assured pomposity of weaklings.
Hitomi grins. “One more step,” she thinks. The lead Arcanite staggers one step to close. “Gotcha.” Hitomi flicks her wrist. A vine sprouts from the earth, entangling the Arcanite’s ankles. He stumbles forward flat on his knees, just into Veiðan’s threat range. As he falls, Veiðan wastes no time. One overhead swing into the back of his neck, and he is seemingly dispatched. Another Arcanite is sent tumbling down from a wayward treerot that wasn’t there a moment earlier, his face connecting squarely with Veiðan’s choppa on the upswing. The Ghyranic mage had a knack for assistance.
The Arcanites get smart, watching their footing carefully while expertly staying out of swinging range to try and surround Veiðan and Hitomi. Veiðan lashes out, trying to catch them unexpected. Every swing misses, the Arcanites just being out of reach. She continues to strike, almost wildly, every time hitting nothing but air. Every swing is furious, and regardless of if they connect, she finds herself releasing more and more of her rage. She’s fought countless battles against foes many times her size. Mawcrushas, Gargants, dragons. She’d never fought harder than she has here in her life.
Hitomi puts her back to Veiðan’s and they become encircled, wakizashi in a forward guard. She stands, watching, waiting, cold and calculating, for the first to make a move in the rear.
The arcanites freeze for a moment, the potential energy of their charge hanging in the air like a static charge. Then, their eyes glow blue as one. The air shimmers for a brief moment, and they charge in unison, blades flashing in the dark. Two blades find purchase on Veiðan’s armor, while Hitomi is only barely able to conjure an oaken shield to block witch-bolts from acolytes to the rear.
Veiðan stands closer to Hitomi as they charge. She swings wildly as one sinks their blade into her armor. She screams in anger. She kicks one down, and sees another advance on Hitomi. Veuthan swings wide to keep someone away from herself and then spins with the momentum to wrap around Hitomi and hit the one approaching her. Veiðan gasps as a blade strikes into her back then turns around to raise her guard. Her breathing turns to a low growl. “Can’t go now,” she thinks.
Hitomi tries to hold her oaken shield, but the healer’s defenses are failing.
She turns to see Veiðan struggling, and raises her other hand. A vine sprouts again, stumbling them but not inflicting any meaningful damage. The Arcanites stand up and start their onslaught again, with more vigor than before. Her shield cracks from the bolts, her magic and focus split between both spells. She looks at Veiðan , expression still calm. “I’ve got you,” she thinks.
The shield cracks again. A piece explodes off.
As the Arcanites advance, magic and blades flashing, the air changes. There’s a charge to it, a feeling on the hairs at the back of their necks, just like before-
There’s blinding light right between Veiðan and Hitomi and the Arcanites, just close enough to buffet the first pair without harming them. An unlucky Arcanite is caught directly in its path, and he seems to disappear entirely before he can fall. There’s a fraction of a second’s delay, then a boom that somehow makes the world quiet for a moment. Through bleary eyes, a dark shape steps out of the brilliant light, and before the afterimage fades away it’s already fallen upon the stunned Arcanites. As hearing returns, it is greeted by metal clashing, flesh being sundered, and the dying screaming.
A giant is left in the aftermath of the thunderbolt, blood on its blade sizzling as it cuts down the Arcanites closest to Veiðan and Hitomi. In the night-time gloom y the occasional glimmer of its black armour, the red cloak cutting the dark, and its eyes glowing like small storms can be seen by light-blinded sight.
Veiðan is wary of this new figure, and tries to catch a glance whenever to make sure it hasn’t turned to them. Hitomi takes advantage of the sonic boom and attempts to turn the tide, duelling the cultists as they come. Veiðan still covers both herself and Hitomi’s flanks, sometimes striking someone while Hitomi parries their attacks. Veiðan excels. Hitomi lags behind Veiðan in martial prowess but holds her own, if only just.
Whoever this figure is, they certainly have different plans than cultists.
The giant cleaves close to Veiðan and Hitomi after the initial shock of its assault. Whenever a blade is thrust at them and they aren’t able to dodge or parry, it is there, deflecting the blow with blade or armour, moving just a slight touch before the foe begins the blow. And it fights in complete silence, except…
Sometimes, a bolt of lightning stabs into the ground to strike the Arcanites beyond their reach, just as they’re about to cast spells at Veiðan and Hitomi… And before each sudden burning of the air and peal of thunder, on the very edge of hearing, there is a quiet susurration, the gentlest whisper that can always be heard, no matter the sounds of battle. Exact words are lost in the whisper, but they crackle with power in that crypt-born voice.
Veiðan sees the figure taking blows for them, and finally yells out.
“It’s not worth dying for me. Get her away from here!”
The pair take advantage of every bit of protection given to them. Hitomi expertly slits a throat here, and parries another there. Veiðan sees the line for the immediate kill. Slowly, one by one, the Arcanites lose their advantage.
The arcanites falter in the face of the newcomer’s deadly blade. They take steps back, circling to find another advantage. Their numbers are thin, yet they still fight. Is it bravery, or are they simply afraid of failure?
“WAAAAGH!!!”
The cry echoes from beyond the edge of the battle, a howling cry familiar to Veiðan. As she keeps her guard up, a group of deep red-armored orruks trudge – not charge – up to the arcanites’ flank, striking them down with choppa and fist. The women spy one orruk draped in a snakeskin cloak, wielding one of the largest choppas they have ever seen with ease as he cleaves through the throng.
Veiðan looks at the newcomers, simultaneously glad to see them but also weary of them being drawn here. Perhaps her own presence in battle was too big for Hitomi’s good, if it drew them here (or so she believes to be the case). “You look familiar…” And then it all clicks. Veiðan immediately moves even closer to Hitomi, hoping to put herself between both the Arcanites and the orruks.
Hitomi fights on, and while she secures a kill here and there, it’s by no means rivalling the martial prowess of Veiðan, the first figure, or the orruks. She hasn’t lost her cool, but before the orruks arrive, the situation looked grim. She doesn’t recognize the new orruks, but she can’t cover every angle herself. That’s for Veiðan to tell if they are friend or foe.
The giant seems entirely unworried by the orruks and keeps defending Veiðan and Hitomi from the Arcanites.
“They’re not here to hurt you.” a voice whispers, cutting through the sounds of battle to directly enter their ears.
Veiðan, in a move of desperation, believes the giant.
Hitomi fights on, but begins to falter. Veiðan steps in to help her, but takes another blow from the bolts. She fights harder.
The Green Legionnaires saunter through the arcanites, taking them apart as they go. The stormcast they might have expected, but an Ironjaw counter-ambush was too far beyond the pale for even the gifts of Tzeentch to predict. As Veiðan and Hitomi watch, a man is bisected at the waist by an enormous Boss Klaw, its wielder almost glumly kicking the arcanite’s torso in midair, rendering it into something resembling the inside of a pie. Another cultist becomes a quivering red mass attached to a spiked basha, and yet more are hacked apart in single, halfhearted blows.
In the face of the orruk brutes’ begrudging advance, the arcanites break. Their numbers are about equal to the orruks’, and they are each about half as tall as the tallest orruk among them. The chaos adherents, what few of them remain, flee.
The boss of the brutes is clear, as the largest orruk muscles his way to the fore of their loose mob, carrying a single blackened Morkstick and what appears to be a hastily beaten-together knife.
Veiðan once again moves to stand between Hitomi and the new-comers, knowing that while they may not be foes yet, they could still not be friends. Then, she looks at their armor… she’s seen these orruks before.
Immediately she tightens her grip on her choppa again, not yet willing to start a fight but not very trusting either. Hitomi notices immediately.
“Veiðan,” she says, softly. “It’s over.”
“No. It’s not.”
Hitomi surveys the carnage.
“They’re gone” she says.
“I fought this clan in the Rift.”
“And maybe, they don’t want to fight now.”
Veiðan remains silent, breathing hard.
Hitomi tries something else.
“So, you being… you,” she begins, playfully, “do you prefer it when our walks are like this?”
“Never, if you can get hurt. There was nothing fun about this” she responds, her voice cracking, holding back something. Hitomi sees this, and begins softly trying to bring her partner down, putting her hands on her.
“Veiðan, look at me. I’m fine.”
“But you almost weren’t.”
“But we’re here now.”
“They came after you. I couldn’t protect you.”
“Veiðan…” she attempts to stand in front of her to look her in the eye.
“Stay behind me.”
“They’re not going to hurt us.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I think I do.” She puts a hand by Veiðan’s wound on her back. She winces every so slightly.
“I’m fine.”
Hitomi rolls her eyes at that comment.
“No, you’re injured. Hold still.”
Hitomi opens her hands as faint green tendrils come out of them. They pour from Hitomi’s fingertips into her partner’s wounds. They close up as Veiðan slowly calms down.
The giant silently watches the two talk, thoughts and emotions locked away behind its helmet and sparking eyes. Now at rest, it’s revealed to be a Stormcast Eternal of the Anvils of Heldenhammer, perhaps one Veiðan and Hitomi might also recognise from the Rift.
Veiðan recognizes the Stormcast.
“You took that blow for Evangeline, didn’t you?”
Hitomi has no idea who this is but listens intently.
Améline nods down at Veiðan.
“I did.” she says, revealing herself as the owner of the whispering voice.
She looks up at her, then back at the Ironjawz.
“And you say I can trust them, when they killed you once already?”
“Revenge is a luxury I can’t afford.”
Her voice becomes oddly distant, as if she’s reading off of a script. Though she still looks down in Veiðan and Hitomi’s direction, as far as they can tell with her storm-shrouded eyes, she doesn’t seem to be looking at them.
“And they are here because you have impressed their megaboss, Kroolius da Seizer. They bring a message. He wants to meet you personally.”
Veiðan and Hitomi looks up at the Stormcast. Slowly, Veiðan loosens her grip on her choppa, until she finally slings it across her back. Hitomi speaks up.
“Thank you… what is your name? I’m Hitomi, I’m a healer with Da Finkerz. Kneel down for me. I’d like to get to know you while I look at you for wounds.”
Veiðan addresses the Ironjawz.
“Who are you? And is the Thunder-Conqueror’s soldier saying the truth?”
She bows her head and touches a fist to her chest.
“I am Améline the Anvil, once more Errant-Questor of the Anvils of Heldenhammer.”
The fist turns into an open hand, clasped to her chest. It begins sparking, and the blood seeping out of gaps in her armour starts to slow. She lifts her head up and looks into the dark night.
“And thank you for your offer, but I can heal myself enough to keep going. There are many more futures that need to be saved.”
Hitomi feels like something is off. The way she speaks, it’s… different. The whispering, the way she sounds so distant, it’s all very odd to her. Maybe it’s just in her head.
“You don’t seem alright, still,” Hitomi ventures. “Is there something else on your mind?”
There’s a brief rattle coming from Améline’s helmet, before it’s abruptly cut off.
“Many somethings, Hitomi. But I will endure.”
Hitomi immediately draws a connection to a certain warboss in her life. “And look at how that worked out for her,” she thinks.
She sighs. “Don’t be overwhelmed by it all. You’re one person, don’t forget that.”
“One person, at the right time, in the right place, can make all the difference. Too many lives depend on me believing that for me to do anything else.”
Veiðan turns to chime in.
“But not your own? You can’t make the same sacrifice you did for Evangeline for everyone. Your luck will run out one day. If you came here for me, and you took a blow from a brute for Evangeline, who else have you come for? It’s not like the Thunder-Conqueror to aid my people, or Evangeline’s.”
Améline shakes her head.
“I am not here at Sigmar’s behest. He has simply given me his… Blessing to fight for the Scarlands.”
Améline stands up straighter, though she seems to lean her weight on her sword.
“Maudra Rua awakens, and the futures where she does not wreak destruction in some form have become rare.”
Veiðan smiles, genuinely, thinking back to her friend.
“They have Baamu. I trust him with my life, I think we’ll be fine.”
Améline tilts her head to the side, and gets a far-off look again.
“Baamu… I believe your faith in his becoming one of the Six will be fulfilled. But beyond that… I wish I had your confidence.”
The boss of this mob, who could only be Wazchoppa, approaches the three.
“Iz you Veiðan? Da boss ‘ere?”
The orruk shows clear signs of recent, hard fighting. A fresh scar crosses his right eye, and his armor is blackened with soot. The banner that he raised so proudly in engagements across the Bleed is nowhere to be seen, but a splintered pole is mounted on his back.
She twitches a nostril, staring at him. A flat “Yes.” is her only response.
Wazchoppa hefts his Gorkstick, telegraphing a blow that would land directly in front of Veiðan. To an untrained observer, this would be just another act of indiscriminate violence. Veiðan is not an untrained observer.
She sees this, and grins a little. She hefts her boss choppa and swings to meet his strike with the flat of the axhead. The meet, and hold it, before Veiðan’s grin turns into a full wide small and laughs, loudly.
“And what brings you here?” she says, laughing all the more.
“We’z Kroolius’ chosen, sent to dis land to find da dragon’s ‘ead an’ cut it off, to offer to Kragnos. We failed.”
The orruk grimaces. His kin grumble.
“But we’z seen you fight. You’z ded ‘ard. We should par-lay, for da good of both waaaagh!s.”
“I think that is wise,” she responds, grinning still.
She looks back to Améline.
“He won’t let us down.”
“Vurtenhul once said the same of me.” Améline murmurs, her voice soft as if not fully aware of the others present.
She shakes her head, then shrugs apologetically.
“I’m sorry, no one needs an old Stormcast’s mind to wander. I’ll fight by his side if he needs me. I’ll keep him alive.”
“Then you’re too good for that armor,” Veiðan replies.
Hitomi turns to Veiðan , smiling out of both surprise and pride that the warboss could say that about a Stormcast, people she traditionally has never liked.
Améline hesitates for a second, for the first time made uncertain by the compliment. Then when she speaks, there’s a hint of a smile in her whisper.
“Thank you.”
“So,”
Wazchoppa begins,
“Da dragon got possessed by da big cat.”
Améline’s eyes snap to Wazchoppa.
“What?”
Veiðan stares at the ground.
“Of course the self-absorbed cat takes control.”
Hitomi frowns.
“We’ll get her back somehow, I hope…” Veiðan looks up, remember how significant Maudra Rua was to Hitomi’s beliefs.
“It’s not over yet.”
“…”
“Hitomi?”
“Yes?”
“It’s not over yet.”
Hitomi looks up.
“You’re right.”
Améline stares into the distance, eyes crackling. When she speaks, it sounds like the growl of an underworld hound, released from its leash to pursue the wicked dead.
“It will be for thousands.”
Veiðan turns to look back at Améline.
“It was always going to be over for some, but it’s not over for us. We’re still here, Améline. And you are too.”
Hitomi whispers to Améline with a twinkle in her eye.
“I guess sometimes she listens to me.”
Veiðan looks back to Améline as she ponders her own words.
“Why did you save us? If it’s not Sigmar’s doing, whose is it?”
Améline tears her eyes away from the horizon burning, silhouettes dragged away to have what magic they possessed torn from their minds and looks towards Veiðan and Hitomi. Her voice softens, though it still possesses an undercurrent of fury.
“My own.”
Veiðan simply stares back in silence. Hitomi seems to understand this far better than Veiðan.
“Thank you, Améline.” she says quietly.
“Don’t. Not like that.”
There’s bitterness in the Stormcast, a hoarse anger. But it seems to be contained as she speaks, replaced with implacable command.
“Before I came here, I only saw a severed branch for your futures.”
Améline’s voice becomes raw, thick with emotion for such a thin voice.
“Now I see it blossom again. Some short. Some long. Some seperate, some together. Thank me by picking the brightest flower among them.”
Hitomi is taken aback by the sudden shift in tone, but doesn’t back away. Veiðan begins to take a step towards before Hitomi shoots her a look. Veiðan stays in place.
“We’ll do that, Améline.”
“Good.”
Améline looks back at the horizon. Insofar as it’s possible to tell with her crackling eyes, she seems entirely focused on it.
“And warn the peoples of the Scarlands. Tell them that the Cabal has won, and if they stay they will suffer under Nashwar’s tyranny. Any magic they have will be stripped away from them, whether its in their possessions or their minds. Take whoever wants to flee the Scarlands with you when you leave.”
“We’ll take all we can,” Veiðan responded.
Wazchoppa grumbles.
“Thank you.”
Améline looks up at the stars above them.
“I will remain in the Scarlands. If you need my help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
She raises a fist up to the sky.
“I will be keeping an eye on your futures.”
“Améline?” Veiðan chimes in one last time. She looks at the Stormcast, back to Hitomi, and back to the Stormcast. “Thank you.”
Hitomi gets a big grin at this.
Améline stares down at Veiðan for a few moments.
“Thank me as Hitomi promised she would.”
Her fist uncurls, and spilling out of it is coruscating Azyrite power. The air becomes charged around Améline.
“I won’t delay you any longer. I know asking you two to stay safe is useless, so stay alive.”
“We’z got to get back to Aqshy. Dis whole zoggin’ mess was a waste of time. But for now… we’z tired. Do you’z got a place in your camp for us tonight?”
Veiðan turns back to them, not quite scowling, but deep in thought about where they could go. She motions Hitomi over, if only to be closer to her.
“Well, there’s outside the walls of camp,” she begins. “There’s not enough room inside the walls. We had to rebuild them during the collapse. It’s either outside the camp or within the Bonesplitterz camp.”
Hitomi thinks for a moment.
“I don’t see another place for them, either.”
Veiðan nods
“You’ll have to pitch tent outside the camp proper. We can probably get enough food together for you, but you’ll have to keep watch with us.”
Wazchoppa nods.
“Wouldn’t wanna sleep through a scrap anyways.”
Veiðan grins.
“That’s what I like to hear!”
“When I ‘eard dose snake gits ‘ad a humie warboss I admit I was leery of da idea, but you’z real orruky at heart.”
“One less fight today,” Veiðan thinks to herself. She’s almost sort of sad by that, but decided they would be another chance for that. She simply holds her grin.
“Then you know your own, and that’s what matters,” she responds.
Hitomi looks up at Wazchoppa.
“Who is Kroolius?”
Veiðan almost answers, but decides not to.
Wazchoppa grins – a narrow, mirthless grin. He looks at Hitomi with the look an older orruk might give a particularly curious yoof.
“Kroolius is da megaboss of da Green Legion. E’s known as da Seizer by gits who’s land we took. ‘E’s the biggest and most kunnin’ Ironjaw who ever strode across Aqshy. He ‘ad his eye on dis place…”
Wazchoppa looks downcast for a moment.
“An’ we’z gone and cocked it up. He’s gonna want to krump somebody fer wot happened ‘ere.”
Veiðan chuckles.
“I guess mine should count themselves lucky I was here personally.”
Hitomi looks up at Wazchoppa with interest and… is that wonder in her eyes?
“I’ve always wanted to go to Aqshy.”
Veiðan chuckles again.
“It’s a nice place.”
“You’ll have to tell me about it.”
“I will.”
Veiðan looks up to Wazchoppa, now more serious
“You’re not just here to talk about Kroolius. Does he want to negotiate?”
“Aye, we got a runner a few days back. Kroolius is impressed wiff your what ‘e calls “cosmopolitan WAAAGH!!!.” He’d like to meet ya.”
Veiðan thinks carefully. If Améline was to be believed, Kroolius means no harm. The scryer was sure of it. On the other, she could not simply go without another word. She needs to be taken seriously.
“Alright. If Kroolius wants his audience, I’ll go, but on one condition: Da Legion must evacuate those they can to safer territory, not strictly Kroolius’ own. Bring them to Sigmar’s realms, or a place where they can establish themselves, I don’t care where. But if it’s not safe or it only benefits him, I’ll know.”
The warboss had that determined look in her face again.
Améline slowly lowers her hand. Even through her helmet, it’s easy to feel the respect she has for Veiðan at this moment.
Hitomi notices the Stormcast lower her hand. She smiles. She likes having this one around.
Wazchoppa looks around to the warriors around him. They are a haggard bunch, clearly tired despite their eagerness to fight.
“Humie, we’z all dat’s left in da scarlands. Weren’t many of us ‘ere in da first place.”
“Then you better take a family with you.” she says, coolly. Then, she smiles. “Is Kroolius still in Aqshy?”
“Aye. Puttin’ down a mob o’ rattlebones in da legion’s home turf.”
She laughs a little.
“Well, one of us will have to come to the other later.”
Veiðan beckons both the boyz of Da Legion and Améline to come with her.
“C’mon. Let’s share a meal together.”
she leans in to Hitomi’s ear and whispers
“It was the best way to give us time together still. I’ll make time for you, I promise.”
“This is still good.”
Veiðan noticeably sighs “Good.”
Hitomi then beckons Améline specifically.
“You should come with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to be. It’s the least we could do for you, and you seem to have my partner’s respect. That’s not an easy thing to gain,” she says, side eyeing Veiðan, whose only response is a playful scowl.
For a moment Améline looks ready to accept. Her eyes blaze with greater celestial intensity.
“I don’t believe there are any interventions I need to make for a while…”
She hesitates, then softly shakes her head.
“But I’m not sure that I would be the best company right now.”
Hitomi raises an eyebrow gestures towards camp, visible in the twilight still
“Do you really think I’m picky about the company I keep?”
Wazchoppa and his lads follow. The warchanter casually inspects Veiðan’s fort.
“Hrm. Palisade’s on muddy ground. Gonna come crashin’ down if it rains too ‘ard.”
“I think my presence would just dampen the cheer of the moment. I am…”
Améline catches herself and pauses for a moment.
“Not particularly optimistic, at the moment.” she admits.
Hitomi has to stifle a laugh
“Veiðan hardly ever has emotion in her voice, trust me when I say the only optimistic person here is me. You’ll fit in tonight.”
Then Veiðan butts in.
“The tribe won’t bother you if they see you with me.”
It’s immediately apparent Veiðan hasn’t processes Hitomi’s comment about her. She answered as monotonously as ever.
“Hm.”
Améline stares down at the two as she makes up her mind, slowly reaching a decision.
“If you two want me to be there…”
“I do, Améline.” Veiðan says
“Yes, come with us!” Hitomi seems more excited than Veiðan but one is no less genuine than the other.
“As you wish.”
Améline reaches up to unbuckle her helmet and take it off, letting her red hair fall down. Her eyes keep their bright, unblinking glow.
“Perhaps it will help me to rest for a while.” she says, still a little doubtful. But she shows honest appreciation when she bows her head towards them.
“Thank you.”
Veiðan smiles, then beckons her to follow.
Veiðan’s face remains stern.
“It’s what we have. We had to rebuild the walls after the stampede…”
Her voice trails off.
“Stampede? What had happened?”
“The Collapse sent the beasts into a frenzy. The Cult able to stop them, but a small breakaway group hit our camp. We were the only group affected. We lost a lot of good fighters”
she remembers a little more silently
“Children didn’t deserve to lose their parents.”
“No, they don’t.”
Améline looks back up at the camp, and a hand curls into a fist.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Wounds I can heal, work to do?”
“Share a meal with us,” she says plainly. “Enjoy being present here, we’ll enjoy your presence. Eating together is important to us.”
Hitomi decided to elaborate further. “Sharing a meal is a matter of closeness to us. It’s a bond we can share.“
“Hrm. Very well.”
Améline seems to become self-conscious of her visible anger at the recent suffering, and unclenches her hand. She tries her best to calm herself down as she approaches the camp.
“I appreciate this offer. Thank you.” she says, a little awkwardly but earnestly.
“What you lot usually have for grub?”
“Whatever we can throw in a skillet or a cook over a fire. Usually we have soup of some kind. It mostly depends on who’s cooking.”
“If we cross paths again I can give you some of the recipes I’ve learnt.”
“I’d like that,” Veiðan says, smiling as she looks over her shoulder.
“We take everyone in. Even Sigmar’s lot, if we must,” Veiðan reassures her.
“Will a Stormcast not cause incident?”
The way Améline asks the question makes it apparent that she’s more worried about Veiðan’s people than her own safety.
“If you’re with me, no. Some of them have fought alongside them in the past. Others have fought against them. Some of us, both.”
“Any time with Anvils of Heldenhammer?”
“Only what we saw from you.”
Hitomi decides her insight is needed.
“You’re going to get some looks. They’ve fought with and against Stormcast. On the whole, you’re probably not going to be well-liked, but if they see you with Veiðan, there won’t be trouble. Quite the contrary, some may willingly eat with us.”
“If you insist.” Améline says, relief creeping into her voice.
“For my part I promise that I won’t start conflict while I’m with you.”
The group walks in through the main entrance of camp, a sort of gate held by two massive tusks. Outside you notice another camp of savage orruks, with little if any organization into how they laid their claim to the space. There’s hardly a tent. The biggest piece of infrastructure is a large totem to Gorkamorka. It would appear that the camp Veiðan is leading you to is separate from that one.
The camp is rows upon rows of different tents, greatly varying in size. You see numerous fire circles distributed about. Humans, duardin, aelves, and ogors gather around each, eating together. Sometimes an orruk is even present at these circles, but the greenskins mostly eat at their own. To your left is a sort of stable, where the Gitmob tends its wolves, but there’s a few human and aelf riders among them. Children of all races play and eat together. An especially careful eye would notice the aelven couple calling to a human child: Their adopted son, if you had to guess. Veiðan takes you to the left road leading up through camp. The diversity of Da Finkerz unfolds around you more and more.
Améline takes in the sights quietly, trying to keep her presence as minimal as possible even if it’s a doomed endeavour. A slight smile tugs at the corner of her mouth when she sees the Human child run to their aelf parents.
Eventually, a girl runs by. She’s maybe 8. She sees Améline and stops.
“Excuse me. Are you a Stormcast?”
Veiðan smiles wide, genuinely. This in turn makes Hitomi smile.
As you walk, you see scattered fighting pits. People gather around to watch. They don’t look like their fighting to hurt each other. In fact, they look like their training. One of the spectators is a brute. As you approach, he turns to see his warboss leading an odd band of visitors. He looks one of the legion brutes up and down, sizing him up as if to start a fight. But then he does something different. He grins, nods, and turns back to watch the two adolescents in the pit spar.
Améline stops in her tracks and looks down at the girl. She seems to be particularly self-conscious of her voice now, trying to mitigate its deathly whisper in the presence of a child.
“I am.”
“Wow! I’ve heard about you!”
She then turns and runs off as if nothing happened, as children are want to do. Veiðan’s smile holds as she speaks.
“Most of the children you see weren’t born here. The ones that have aren’t old enough to walk yet. What you see here are families who came, or adolescents who came alone, or orphans. That was Magnolia. Her parents came her with her about 6 months ago.”
In the distance, you may faintly hear her excitedly tell her mother how she met a Stormcast. You then may here her mother fearfully scold her because “they’re dangerous.” This reaches Veiðan’s ears, and she stops and calls out.
“Mala!”
The mother comes out of her tent.
“Yes?” Then she sees Améline and her eyes flash.
“My guests are not here to hurt anyone.”
“But I have to teach my child–“
“She would learn more by meeting one then what the techers her would tell her.”
Mala sighs
“You’re right, but you must understand my fears.”
Veiðan softens ever so slightly, a major gesture given who she is.
“I know. But meet one. One day we’ll fight alongside one. I would be dead right now if she wasn’t here.”
Mala turns to Améline.
“I’m… sorry.” she looks at the ground.
“Don’t be. Understanding goes both ways.”
Améline kneels down in front of Mala, bringing their eyes level. She keeps her hands visible but at rest on her knee.
“Why are you afraid of Stormcast?” she asks, as gently as possible with her voice.
She breathes in. Then again, faster.
“When I was a little girl Stormcast came and burned our homes. It wasn’t until later I learned it was because our chieftain refused to pay them fealty. They wanted us to become Sigmarites. We wanted to just be.”
She takes another breath
“I lost my parents. My sister and I escaped.”
“They said something about Chaos. We were never that.”
She pauses.
“Magnolia doesn’t know that. I’ve tried to her safe. When the stampede hit I relived it all over again. At least we were all okay, but that was the one fear I never wanted her to feel.”
“Being here invites that, I guess. But we didn’t have anywhere else to go. Veiðan was the only other person we met that worshipped Gorkamorka, and there was a promise of community here. She wasn’t wrong.”
“I’m glad she wasn’t.”
Améline’s expression falls a little as she continues.
“I’m sorry that tragedy fell upon your people. I know too well how my siblings can become tyrants, rather than topple them.”
She raises up a hand palm up towards Mala, stilling the lightning in it.
“I can’t undo their actions or bring your parents back. But while it is in my power, I will help you ensure that Magnolia won’t have to share your fear.”
She stammers a little, trying to hold her fear in. Hitomi moves to stand by her and put a hand on her shoulder.
Soon Magnolia is back, dragging a man behind her. He has dark skin and is rather tall. He looks up at Améline and smiles. “Well look at that,” he says, calmly. He then sees his wife and approaches and stands close to her. “It’s okay Mala,” he whispers. Magnolia looks excited to be around Améline again. The man looks at the Stormcast, markedly calm.
“What’s your name?”
Améline meets the man’s gaze and nods respectfully towards him.
“Améline, but I also go by Malliana and Kladronir.”
He smiles a little.
“I’m George, I’m Magnolia’s father. She seemed eager to be around you, so I thought I’d come by with her. I’m nervous about you too, but maybe… maybe Magnolia needs to understand things aren’t so black and white.”
He takes a breath.
“We were hunters. We never envisioned being in something like this, but after the mudslide destroyed our home, and chaos came after, Mala, Magnolia, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. We’re lucky to be here. We might not be good fighters, but we make our place here hunting.”
Veiðan beckons you all to walk with her again.
“Well, George, it gladdens me to know that you, Mala and Magnolia have built new lives for yourselves here.”
She puts emphasis behind each name, committing them to memory. She catches Veiðan’s beckoning and stands up again, smiling down at George.
“But if I can help in some way, all you need to do is ask. Could I cook for you for tonight as a start? All I’ll need is any tools and ingredients you’re willing to share.”
The Ardstompers talk among themselves.
“Dat’s a humie yoof? I thought they’d be bigger.”
“Shut it you git.”
“We birth small young,” Veiðan says, seemingly unbothered by describing people like that.
“Birf?”
“I said shut it!”
“You know how Gore-Gruntas make babies? We do that.”
Veiðan says this plainly. Hitomi bursts out laughing.
Magnolia looks up, confused at her parents. “How do Gore-Gruntas make babies?”
Hitomi laughs all the more as her mother politely states, “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”
The brute, confused, makes a gesture where he slowly punches his fists together, looking at this “display” with consternation.
“But den how-“
“I SAID ZOGGIN’ SHUT IT!”
Améline’s expression is carefully neutral throughout this exchange, visibly enough that it hints to private laughter kept internal.
Veiðan somehow remains straight-faced through all of this, with no indication of internal laughter.
It is a miracle Hitomi is still standing considering how hard she’s laughing.
Veiðan raises an eyebrow at Hitomi as she laughs. Eventually Hitomi finds the breath to respond.
“Now… hehehe… now if I didn’t know better…” she begins.
“I just don’t understand what’s funny.”
Hitomi begins laughing a little more. Veiðan shrugs. She simply doesn’t get it.
Soon the group comes to a fire pit that’s not in use. Veiðan and Hitomi look it over.
“What are we thinking?” Hitomi asks, still giggling a little.
Veiðan looks around
“I could just throw some things in a skillet.”
“Do we have enough for that?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, there’s always more fish.”
“I’m not in the mood for fish.”
Hitomi gets a slight smile. “Told you I know better.”
Veiðan sighs, exhausted. Hitomi looks proud of herself.
“We have enough bread,” Veiðan says, hoping to move past Hitomi’s jokes.
“Hmmm… could make a soup.”
“Potatoes and pork?”
“Carrots too.”
“Turnips. We ate them all the time in my village.”
“Hmmmm.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“If we can add something else.”
“We could get fish somehow.”
“I was thinking chicken and vegetables.”
“We can do that.”
Soon enough, the couple is at work, getting ingredients together for what they can.
“I know I said we combine cultures, but this time I think we’ll have two very different dishes for dinner,” Hitomi explains.
“We could do fish over rice if you’d prefer that, Hitomi,” Veiðan says to her partner
“Hmmm…”
“Well, what do they want?” Hitomi asks
“I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you put in front of me.”
She fumbles with her pouches, before taking out of them several containers.
“I can contribute these. Spices that I’ve bought while travelling the Realms.”
Veiðan smiles gratefully — now that’s not a site you see every day — and smells them. She passes them to HItomi who also takes a whiff, carefully noticing Veiðan’s smile. She doesn’t miss much, does she?
“We could put this over elk…” Veiðan begins
“I’ll go ask around for some.”
“Take Adharc. They’re heavy.”
Hitomi returns with an elk, but not on Veiðan’s Mournfang. Instead, an old Ogor appears to be carrying it under his arm.
“Som’body wan’ an elk?” his voice booms. Veiðan spins around to look.
“How are you, Ragtoret?” Veiðan greets him, warmly.
“Doin’ okay. Herd you were cookin’. I’ve always wanted ta cook wi’ you, so I thought I’d come along. Iv that’s okay, of course.” He’s oddly well-mannered for an Ogor. Perhaps he’s less wild than he used to be.
“There’s plenty of room around the fire, Ragtoret.”
“Great! Let’s get this carved up. I brought’a sack’a potatoes, too.”
And so, the three of them start. The elk is carved and thrown into a pan, while Veiðan and Hitomi work on building the potato soup base and start cutting some pork into it, adding spices as they go. The commotion around a cooking fire, however, attracts the attention of many, particularly when strangers are around. Magnolia’s friends soon come by. Which brings more children. Like orruks drawn to a WAAAGH!, the cooks look up and soon see the children greatly outnumber the adults. The presence of a Stormcast and strange greenskins draws the littlest and most curious among Da Finkerz. Soon, they’re all sitting, seemingly around Améline and Da Legion.
Hitomi decides to work a little magic. She wreathes her hands around her hands around in front of her mouth and cups her lips. She takes one hard breath out. Little green lightning bugs shoot out of her hands, formed from Ghyranic magic. The children look up in awe. She giggles a little. Veiðan looks over at her smiles genuinely at the spectacle. For such a hard woman, she’s showing her soft spots today.
What started as a meal for 10 has turned into a meal for 40.
“We need more soup,” Veiðan says.
“We have leftovers in our tent I can bring,” George says, smiling. “We’d be happy to contribute I think.”
“That would be wonderful, George,” Hitomi says, gratefully.
One of the children approaches Améline.
“I’ve heard Stormcast can control lightning. Is that true?”
Améline’s lightning eyes turn to the child. She briefly doesn’t say anything, then she smiles softly and nods.
“Some of us can, in many different ways. By magic, such as the Sacrosanct Chambers, others by blessings.”
A chorus of children eagerly await a display.
Améline looks around at their expectant faces, and her smile quirks a little.
“You all assume that I am so blessed?”
“YES!”
Wazchoppa grumbles.
“Ain’t the only one wiff a god’s magic.”
Améline’s voice becomes gently reproving as she continues, but subtly done in a way that doesn’t sound serious at all.
“Had it not crossed your minds that I could guide the winds…”
A cool breeze stirs the air around the fire pit, lightly scattering ash and ruffling hair.
“Oooooo…”
Hitomi smiles at the display.
“Or summon rain…”
A pitter-patter of droplets falls down around the fire pit, just enough to be noticeable.
Children look on gleefully as plates start being passed out.
“For all you know, I could have a tongue of thunder…”
A boom sounds in the distance. By the time it reaches the camp it has almost died away, but as it rolls over the fire pit those gathered can hear ‘thunder… under… der…” echo through the tents.
Veiðan smiles all the more as she approaches Améline from behind with a plate and a bowl of soup.
She also slices a loaf of bread for you.
For Da Legion, she brings the same, only with mostly meat and soup. She offers a loaf, not expecting you to take it.
Améline gratefully accepts the bread and soup, before turning back to the children.
“Or the stars that shine upon us could have given me some of their light.”
Améline’s head becomes limned with a soft, blue glow. It suffuses the evening dark, gently undoing it without harshly burning onlookers’ eyes.
“Nuklib would of liked dis place.”
With a grunt and a nod from Wazchoppa, the gathered brutes gather their chow.
The warchanter stands leaning against the palisade wall, his arms crossed. The broken bosspole lies carefully leaned against the wooden barricade.
Hitomi looks at them
“A friend?”
Wazchoppa hangs his head, eyes narrow. The other orruks look downcast.
“Our shaman. Went down after da weirdrock… after it ‘sploded. We got trapped by a big bird daemon. ‘Ad no way out. Nuklib took if wiv ‘im.”
“Old geezer always said it’d be fire. Jus’ didnt fink it’d be blue.”
Améline is too preoccupied with the children looking up at her to pay attention to the conversation. The glow around her head dies away until she’s in the dark once more.
“But I could just be a simple warrior, who prevails with force of arms and courage. One who doesn’t cast down her foes with blasts of lightning, or strides with thunder bolts.”
She takes a spoonful of soup and sniffs it, savouring the smell and prolonging the moment.
It’s a potato soup with ham, and some herbs and spices for good measure.
Veiðan hears this — as she is seemingly too aware of her surroundings, even at home, and looks up.
“He sounds a little like Sokrateez. He died for everyone around him, including me. We’re only here from his sacrifice.”
Hitomi is not sure how to emotionally support and orruk, but her tome here as taught her a thing or two.
“He died the way he wanted to. Is there a higher honor?”
Now Améline seems to be aware of the conversation, and while she doesn’t know who they’re talking about she recognises the tone well enough. It gives her pause, staring down at her spoon as she feels the loss in their voice.
She looks back up at the children watching her. She spots a few confused faces, and she guesses that they’re wondering what has come over the Stormcast.
So she puts on her smile again for them. She puts her spoon down and raises a fist.
“Or, maybe, I might just be…”
Hairs stand on end and skin itches as the air becomes charged around her…
There’s a bright flash of light as a bolt of lightning strikes her directly.
As the afterimage of the flash is blinked away and sight restored to blinded sight, Améline is still sitting completely unharmed, her outstretched hand containing a bolt of lightning madly dancing between her fingers and over her palm.
The children stare in wonder. Adults look on, some in awe, some in fear from having been on the receiving end of such power. The isolated flash of lightning on a clear night draws confusion, but soon the words spreads of a Stormcast among their presence. Some are afraid still, but those present are in wonder.
The children love Améline.
Améline holds the lightning in her fist for a few moments longer, before throwing it back up into the sky. Then she takes a spoonful of the soup again and eats it.
She gives an appreciative grunt and turns towards Veiðan and Hitomi.
“This soup is great. You two manifested the real miracle here.”
She sounds entirely genuine with her praise. She looks back towards the children and nods towards them.
“Eat up before it gets cold.”
After that display her voice has become warmer, and a little louder than her perpetual whisper.
Veiðan holds that big smile of hers that few ever see. She approaches Améline one more time.
“Thank you.”
Wazchoppa sniffs, once.
“Nah.”
Hitomi smiles warmly
“Then he lived the best life. That’s what we try to remember most when one of our own dies fighting.”
Améline smiles back, recognising Veiðan’s expression for what it means.
“I speak only the plain truth.”
“And children marvel them'” she says, sweetly
Améline looks nervous, oddly so for the Stormcast, but still happy.
“I’m just glad they liked it.”
Veiðan, upon hearing Hitomi’s words, has her smile turn into… something else. It’s still a smile, but she’s clearly feeling something good from what she said.
“Losing a friend is always hard,” she says, softly. “I found they wanted us to remember what they did here instead of miss them.”
Veiðan, oddly enough, puts a hand on Wazchoppa’s arm.
With the children’s attention away from her, Améline’s expression turns sombre.
“I’ve been on both ends of sacrifices, and I know that I wouldn’t want those I gave up my life for to not be able to move on from it.”
Wazchoppa considers her words.
“Fanks, humie.”
Veiðan turns to look at Améline.
“We learn to carry the pain. We never forget.”
“We could spar in the pits, if you’d like.” Veiðan sounds genuine, and even excited, at the prospect. “You could honor his memory with a good scrap.”
Wazchoppa starts to grin.
“Dat sounds like a good time.”
She lets out a low laugh from her throat.
“Let me eat, then I’ll show you a pit. We fight for fun and to learn, not to injure each other.”
She turns to leave him and looks around for something. She moves her hesd back and forth quickly, then she sees it. She walks up and picks up a log and sets it by the fire. The she goes and gets the second and sits it down. She simply turns to Hitomi and smiles faintly. She smiles wide back and goes to be with her, dishing each other up and sitting by the fire eating, smiling, laughing, and being in love.
“Fists? Choppas?”
“Choppas!” she calls out, one arm around Hitomi.
Someone brings by a basket of peaches for desert. Veiðan stands up, and goes to the basket. The kids all step away, but the few adults don’t. This spectacle might strike Améline as odd but to Wazchoppa this looks normal. A Warboss always gets the first picking. Veiðan looks into the basket and picks out the biggest, juciest peach, and a second average one. Then she looks around at others who backed away.
“You are my clanmates. We eat together. I have no privilege over you.”
Soon people start to dig in. It appears the children haven’t ever eaten with their WAAAGH-Mother, given the nods from parents beckoning them on. She goes back to Hitomi and, smiling, hands her the large peach. She takes it with a smile and they eat together as a child comes over and whispers in Veiðan’s ear.
“Eat with us.” is all she says. She gives up her log for the child and sits next to Hitomi on the ground. “This is Aemilia and Arvad’s child,” she says. “Their not back from their hunt and he wants to eat with us. Arvad and I are close.”
Hitomi doesn’t react except with a smile, but you can see her eyebrows shoot up when she hears “close,” as if the notion of Veiðan being close with anyone is utterly foreign. From what you’ve heard, Hitomi is correct: Veiðan really doesn’t keep people close.
Veiðan calls out the Wazchoppa when she finishes her peach. “Are you ready?” She stands up, a big smile on her face. She’s excited.
Wazchoppa grins as he cracks his knuckles.
“Choppas, den. What do you lot fight to? First cut? Makin’ the other git say uncle?”
“There’s a pit back there,” pointing along the road they took to get here. “We’ll know when someone’s won. Are you ready?” She is smiling ear to ear, and she’s picked up her boss choppa.
Wazchoppa holds up his Morkstikk and his crude dagger.
“Is usin’ da beat of da waaagh cheatin’? If’n it is, I might have to borrow a choppa.”
“Use your weapon,” is what she calls out as she leads him to the pit. “I want to fight you when you’re at your best.”
Veiðan vaults over the wood fence despite there being a gate. It’s a big sand arena surrounded by a simple wooden fence. The sand is shallow. It doesn’t shift much underfoot. She walks to the middle, smiling ear to ear and points to the gate for Wazchoppa.
As the crowd’s attention turns away from her, Améline glances towards Hitomi, trying to catch her eye. She jerks her head away from the fight, a clear request for a private talk.
She raises an eyebrow but follows.
Améline walks some way away from the fire. Though it’s impossible to hide her presence, the intermittent sparks of her body die a little, darkening her black armour in the night’s shadows.
Hitomi follows her until she stops. “What’s up?
“You already know that I can see possible futures?”
Améline’s voice is quiet, even more than usual. Her good humour around the children is gone.
“That’s how you found us, so yes.”
“I’ve caught a glimpse of Magnolia’s future. She’ll be asked by her parents to get water from a river, and waiting for her there is a spectre who will try to drown her.”
Her voice is audibly straining to keep quiet and calm, despite the simple way she phrases her prediction. Her eyes spark with greater force, hinting at the fury contained behind her stoic expression.
Hitomi’s eyes widen. “When?
“Two weeks from now.”
She looks over to Veiðan, watching her beckon Wazchoppa into the arena. She laughs a little under her breath, nodding her head. “One minute she’s shaken from fighting for our lives, the next she’s fighting and having the time of her life.” She looks to Améline. “I’ll let her know.”
“You won’t have to. I’ll banish the spectre myself.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s what I’d prefer.”
Améline shrugs, showing her discomfort.
“If you want to be sure that I’ve made it safe, if you continue your course in ten day’s time you’ll come by a river. Go upstream of it until you reach a dead tree. If the spectre is still there, then a priest or mage will be able to exorcise him. Go by day, and bring brave warriors.”
“Hmm, do I take a fight from under Veiðan’s nose and risk the fury of a warboss cheated out of a scrap in exchange for an ounce of self-preservation from her? That’s a tough one.”
She thinks on this for a bit, watching Veiðan’s fight start. She smiles. “C’mon, let’s go watch. It’ll give me time to decide if I dare invoke her wrath.” That last part she says with a slight smile.
“You won’t tell anyone I’ve told you this?” Améline asks. Despite her size, power and the confidence she bears on the battlefield, right now she seems bordering on nervous.
“I’ll tell Veiðan. She’ll want to handle it… if only to swing her axe at something.”
“Will she tell anyone else?”
Hitomi thinks long and hard.
“I don’t know. She might try to prevent it without telling many. Like not letting the kids leave camp for a month.”
Too heavy to follow Veiðan’s lead, Wazchoppa simply walks through the gate.
“Normally I’d ‘ave a Morkstikk and a Gorkstikk, but I lost da Gorkstikk in all da fighting.”
He grins.
“Consider it me holdin’ back, heh.”
Veiðan grins ear to ear.
“You’ll wish you had it!”
She immediately springs to strike.
“It’ll be better if I banished it. It won’t hurt anyone if I send back into Shyish.”
Améline looks up at Veiðan, studying her for a moment, before returning her worrying eyes to Hitomi.
“If she does want to tell someone that I gave you that warning, could you prevent her from doing so?”
Hitomi nods.
“I can do that.”
Améline let’s out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you.”
“But on one condition,” Hitomi cautions. “Veiðan already said you died once. If it gets too dangerous, tell us. We’ll handle it.”
“Hrm. I’m a Stormcast Eternal. I can handle death.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what can happen.”
“What could happen to you two is worse.”
Améline’s jaw sets defiantly. It’s clearly an argument she’s had before.
“There’s few things I can think of that are worse than losing yourself and living with it.”
“Hrm.”
Améline stares down at Hitomi, impassive expression concealing her internal debate. Finally she nods her head slightly, conceding to the healer if begrudgingly.
“I’ll ask for your help if you need it.”
“And we’ll be sure to be there,” she says warmly. She turns to watch Veiðan fight. “I wonder if I’ll ever see the end of her energy. She’s always ready.” She chuckles to herself. “You wouldn’t know it by listening to her. She hardly changes tone when she speaks.”
In general, an ironjawz duel consists of two or more combatants, taking turns hitting each other as hard as possible until either one stands victorious or the entire Fist joins in. Wazchoppa does not fight like this. He parries Veiðan’s strike with his short dagger, throwing her arm wide while he lifts his Morkstikk high over his head to deliver an earsplitting blow.
Améline grunts, seeing the obvious parallel.
“She seems genuine with her feelings when she expresses them.”
“I think she might be the most genuine person I know. That voice tells so much while saying so little.” Her eyes flash as Veiðan seamlessly dodges the overhead, yelling out in her counterattack. “I see a lot of beauty in her.”
A smile tugs at the edge of Améline’s mouth as she recognises that tone.
“It’s a wonderful feeling.”
“It really is. I hope it never goes away.”
Veiðan sidesteps the blow as his Morkstikk whistles and crashes into the ground. She wastes no time in resuming her offense, laughing for everyone to hear. This is a dangerous prospect for a warboss. Losing to an outsider in her own camp would waiver the loyalties of many. Still, she seem unconcerned with what may happen. She values this experience more. She swings her choppa low, looking to catch Wazchoppa in the flank, before spinning around and attacking his back, then his other flank, then to his back again. She’s exploiting her size.
Fighting Veiðan is like fighting an avalanche. Her stamina is seemingly endless. In fact, it only grows as the bout goes on. She endures every blow, and comes back for more. A hit that would crush most humans’ guards she lands with little more than a grunt through a gritted smile to show for exertion. She exploits openings and mistakes, taking them to their limits. Perhaps half expected, the longer the fight goes on, the stronger she becomes despite her bruises.
Améline shrugs in lieu of an answer. She’s painfully aware of how woefully inexperienced she is in this.
“Do you want to get a better view?” she asks instead.
She raises an eyebrow.
“Better how?”
“Getting closer…?”
Améline gives Hitomi a confused look, wondering what’s on her mind.
“Oh. Yeah we can do that,” she laughs a little embarrassed.
Améline shrugs again, and starts making her way over to the pit.
Hitomi smiles wide as she watches Veiðan fight. “I wonder how long before she breaks something in this fight. Not that she’d let me do anything about it, but he’s three times her size.”
“If size dictated how fights would go, I would have won far less victories.”
She looks up at Améline’s truly gigantic size “More or less?”
“You’ll be surprised how often I’ve fought things bigger than me. There are some things too monstrous or powerful for others to have to fight.”
“I’m aware of the size of some creatures.” She looks back to Veiðan, dodging around Wazchoppa. “I wonder what she’s faced.”
“You don’t stay Warboss by picking the easy fights.”
Améline frowns when she hears herself, realising that her knowledge of Orrukish society might now fit well in this example.
She grins as Veiðan swings her choppa into Wazchoppa’s armor
“I’ll have to ask her sometime.”
Wazchoppa proves endurant to Veiðan’s assault, weathering it like a pachyderm in a rainstorm. He lays about himself with the morkstikk, hoping to catch the warboss off guard. He parries with his dagger where he can and angles his body to catch blows on his armor where he cannot. All the while he bellows a laugh, a guffaw of pure joyous belligerence.
“I could grapple ya, youz know. But I won’t.”
His comments only make her laugh all the more
“You couldn’t catch me if you tried!”
She begins altering how she’s fighting. She tries to lead him on in her attacks. She’s hoping to make him guard for an attack that never comes.
As the fight goes on people somewhat start to gather to watch. Except they very clearly favor one side of the pit: The side without Améline. In fact, she may even become acutely aware of how bare the side her and Hitomi are on is. It seems very few are willing to be near her. Except for the kids. They don’t seem to mind at all.
She even gets a few looks that are not at all kind from those passing by.
Améline does an admirable job of ignoring the hostile stares, keeping her eyes fixed on the fight. She doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to the children around her.
Veiðan finds her chance. Her feint makes Wazchoppa shift his weight, right where she wants it.
‘Got you.’
She puts all her strength into this swing. This is her chance to finish this. And if it doesn’t work, they just scrap longer. It’s a win-win.
Hitomi looks around. She doesn’t scowl back. She just looks at them, knowing their fears. She doesn’t fault them for what they’re doing.
“Améline? Why do you fight?”
“Hrm. Protect the people of the Realms. Fight and die so they don’t have to. Throw the Chaos Gods out of the Realms, and topple Nagash.”
The answer is given without much thought, but with plenty of conviction.
“Well, I’m not sure what I expected,” she responds half-playfully.
“Sometimes it is just that simple.”
Améline shrugs.
“My sword arm is just a tool to me. You might as well ask why I pick up a hammer.”
“Mine rarely touches a hilt.”
“I hope it stays that way.”
“Well,” she says, watching Veiðan fight, “something tells me that might change a little,” she says chuckling ever so slightly.
Améline just grunts in response. Her demeanour is not truly disapproving, but there is anger in her body language.
She raises an eyebrow “Is everything alright?”
Améline is silent for a few moments, before she grunts again, then speaks softly;
“Peace can’t come soon enough.”
“I hope it comes soon here, too.” she says, sort of sadly. “I know Veiðan won’t wage wars for the sake of it. I guess we won’t ever know peace for very long.”
“Not with the Cabal emboldened by Nashwar gaining Maudra Rua’s power. The capacity for destruction that monster has now…”
“It’s awful. Maudra Rua should never have been turned on innocent people.”
Améline shakes her head.
“I’d been told of this danger by visions. I should have predicted it sooner. Maybe if I had, she’d still be sleeping under the Bleeding Wilds…”
“It might be better that way. There are other ways to fight the Slann.”
Hitomi is visibly not happy at the mention of violence.
“The Slann?”
She nods. “It’s why the Cult came here. We wanted to resurrect Maudra Rua to overthrow the Slann.”
“I don’t think Maudra Rua herself even cared about them.”
“No, but maybe she could’ve been convinced by the people who resurrected her.”
Wazchoppa roars in pain, rearing back from the humie warboss. Then, he finds his footing. Squaring up, he charges straight into the humie warboss, seeking to tackle-carry her all the way to the other end of the arena.
Wazchoppa is too fast for her. Still laughing, she lifted off her feet as he charges to the other side of the pit.
Hitomi winces once but her demeanor doesn’t break.
“I’m not sure.” Améline replies, her voice careful.
Wazchoppa, vision impaired by the cackling warboss, charges directly into the stands near Hitomi and Améline. Winded, he drops Veiðan.
“One-“
He gasps, holding up an index finger.
“Just a moment. Me back ain’t what it used to be.”
“She’d listen. I know she would –” Her eyes tighten for half a second, cut off by what’s about to happen. She spins around. “MOVE!”She yells, running to the side as Wazchoppa breaks the wooden fence with ease. A loud crack fills the air as it shatters, before he drops a still-smiling Veiðan. Hitomi is breathing very hard, looking a little worried but less than one would expect from a woman watching her lover get battered.*
Perhaps she’s hiding some of it
Veiðan hits the ground with a thud on her back before quickly getting to her feet. She’s breathing hard.
“Hopefully that didn’t hurt too much,” she says, smiling wide still. She’s not even looking at Hitomi.
Wazchoppa starts to laugh, a deep, rumbling noise from his gut.
Améline sidesteps the explosion of the fence sahttering, armour protecting her from the worst of the impact. A splinter still scores a short cut across her brow.
She ignores it completely as she drops to one knee beside Veiðan, lifting a hand crackling with celestial power. Her manner is serious and rigidly calm, one of someone who knows better than to panic in a crisis.
“Hitomi, how badly hurt is Veiðan?”
Hitomi takes a deep breath.
“Not at all. Muscle pain. You’d know it if she broke something.”
She swallows, then grins a little.
“Otherwise I’d already be there,” she says with a nervous chuckle. Veiðan looks over at her quizzically. A raised eyebrow, visible questioning. Her looks says “I’m fine, what are you worried about?”
Wazchopp still guffaws, basking in the joy of the duel.
Veiðan laughs a little, looking around at the wreckage.
“Next time run me into an empty space.”
She looks past him into the pit.
“Ready for more?”
“Hrm.”
Améline closes her hand, letting the sparks in it die away, then stands back up.
“If you insist.”
She looks at Améline. “I’m fine,” is all she says.
She still doesn’t pay mind to Hitomi beyond her look.
Hitomi’s breathing calms a bit.
Wazchoppa, still winded, answers.
“Maybe. You got anyfing to drink?”
“Water.” Veiðan answers plainly.
“Fungus beer?”
“I see some of them drinking it. All the orrks and grots know where some is.”
She peers past Wazchoppa and calls out to the first greenskin she sees — despite non-greenskins being the most talkative here, it’s be impossible to go anywhere in camp without seeing orruks.
“You!” she points.
everyone turns to look at her. The Boy just meets her gaze.
“Yeah boss?”
“Whose got fungus beer.”
“Wez got a lot. It’s all different.”
“Any of them.”
He ponders for a moment.
“Fink Bulruk’s got som?”
“We’ll find him. Thank you.”
The orruk pays no mind to tha thanks. Veiðan beckons Wazchoppa — and Hitomi and Ameline — to follow.
“We’ll finish this later, Wazchoppa.”
Wazchoppa follows.
Améline does so too, still not having fully shaken off her grim mein.
Veiðan waits for Hitomi to be by her side. Hitomi seems a little shaken. Veiðan holds her hand, oblivious to her partner’s worries. Hitomi starts feeling her back and shoulders.
“What are you doing?” Veiðan asks.
“Seeing if you’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well it didn’t sound fine!” she says, stress showing in her voice.
Veiðan takes a deep breath.
“I wouldn’t let my self get hurt.”
“Yeah well be more careful!” Now there’s fear. Veiðan takes another breath.
“Hitomi?”
“What?” she says, patience wearing thin.
Veiðan just smiles. and puts an arm around her, letting that speak for her. Hitomi takes it but is still a little upset. She looks to Améline.
“Sorry, you were saying?”
“Hrm.”
Améline lingers on Veiðan, before looking over to Hitomi.
“I don’t think Maudra Rua would have listened to you.”
“Why wouldn’t she answer her followers? What we see is the cataclysm of the Slann. Even if she wouldn’t listen to us, she would overthrow them in her own way.”
“Again, I have my doubts.”
Améline looks down at Hitomi, resolute but also oddly pitying.
“Have them. We’ll never know now. Her beauty is manipulated by the most vain being in the Realms.”
“I refuse to believe that there isn’t a way to free her.”
Améline’s resolution grows, accompanied by a black mood.
“Tyrants often believe that they are infallible, but they’re not. Nagash could be laid low, so can Nashwar.”
“And the Slann.” There’s a pinch of hate in her voice.
“Hrm. Even they could fall.”
She doesn’t sound particularly approving of the sentiment.
“But it wouldn’t be by Maudra Rua’s hand.”
“My village needs justice. So does everyone else caught in their so-called Great Plan.” Her voice sounds bitter.
“You sound like you want vengeance more.”
“I don’t want revenge.” Hitomi says coolly. “I want justice. They could’ve stopped that army, and they didn’t. The used us as an anvil so it’d be cleaner for them.” She stops to take a breath to calm herself down. “We’re not alone. Anyone caught in the way of their Great Plan will be killed. What good is defeating Chaos if we killed so many innocent people in the process?”
Veiðan squeezes her shoulder.
“There isn’t.” Améline admits candidly. “But neither is there any good in turning on allies against Chaos, just to sate our fury.”
Her eyes remain fixed on Hitomi, undaunted.
“You say you want justice. But justice is proportionate, and it does good. Killing the Slann will expose those that benefit from their protection to the horrors of Chaos, and the amount of blood shed will exceed that they have spilled. And that is if you had succeeded in limiting the carnage just to the Seraphon.”
“We thought we benefitted. We are pawns. We are pieces to be sacrificed for what they believe in.”
She takes a deep breath.
“Justice does good. I won’t deny that. But some of us will never see good if we keep acting like this. Something has to change.”
“Revenge would be killing all the Seraphon. Justice would be overthrowing the Slann. I don’t want the Seraphon dead, Améline. But those who want to be free should be.”
“I don’t doubt you’re a good person, Améline. But when you’ve been told your people died for a greater good they didn’t ask for, you might see things differently.”
Veiðan squeezes her shoulder again, and then says something unexpected.
“You can’t choose who dies in war, Hitomi.”
“You can’t. Especially not with a dragon of Maudra Rua’s power.”
Améline settles a little, though forcibly so; the crack about not knowing what it would be for her people to be sacrificed for a greater good had caused her eyes to flare momentarily.
“Barak-Drak might have very well been the first victims of her awakening, if we hadn’t found a way to get airborne again.”
Hitomi bitterly stares at the ground.
“Then what do we do, Améline? Let them sacrifice my village again? Let them sacrifice countless others in a plan they didn’t ask to be apart of?”
She looks at Veiðan.
“Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I’ve saved everyone under my care?”
Veiðan blinks once.
“No,” she says flatly. “But war and nature don’t choose. If Maudra Rua burned a village, it’s not the fault of the villagers. It’s what nature does. Some live, some die, all because that is nature. War isn’t any different.”
Hitomi looks at her, rapidly becoming enraged. “So my people died just because, and I should just take it?!?” How could you of all people say–“
Veiðan steps in front of her and pulls her in for a hug, cutting her off.
“No. I want you to know the destruction you want won’t spare anyone. If you know that and still believe, I won’t judge you. I only want you to understand that.”
“Though others might try to stop you.”
Améline’s voice drops, becoming as soft as her perpetual whisper can be.
“If you really want to stop these injustices, you need to think before you act. Anger is admirable in some cases, but as a guiding force it is unreliable.”
She raises her left arm and taps the white kraken on it, the sigil of Anvilgard and a marker of shame on a Stormcast.
“I’ve been on and seen both sides of vengeance. From Kha’ihva, Anvilgard, Greywater Fastness…”
Her tone once again becomes reproving, though only to admonish.
“And Barak-Drak. Had the Cult gotten its way, all of the skyport’s inhabitants might have been buried in the mountains.”
Améline may notice Vethan instinctively start shifting Hitomi behind her, if only for a split second, when she raises her gauntlet. She relaxes as quickly as she started. She speaks over Hitomi’s head.
“She’s not a fool, Améline. She doesn’t know war. Not like we do.”
Améline is silent for a moment, before she carefully lowers her hand.
“And hopefully, now you know better.”
Hitomi eventually gets free from the hug. She looks agitated but listening. She looks to Améline.
“Then what do we do? Let them be? Let them take more lives until someone else does what we won’t?”
Veiðan looks at Améline blankly, expecting an answer. She seems intent on only weighing in when she has to.
“You should decide what you really want. The ruin of your enemies, or keeping others from harm.”
Améline clasps her arm, lightly rubbing the white kraken on it.
“You might think that it’s the same thing, but those two goals often diverge. Revenge is seductive, and rage is easy to lapse into. But neither of those things will guide you to helping others. Just hurting them.”
Améline’s voice picks up in intensity and speed as she talks, gaining greater passion.
“If that is what you want, then be prepared to fight a war that might never end. But if you want to help others, then you’ll have to resist those impulses and focus. Fighting the Slann might be part of that, but you can’t let it distract you. The people you save should always come first…”
As she trails off, the brooding silence she falls into swallows up her words. Améline doesn’t seem to have been addressing just Hitomi, at the end.
Hitomi’s eyes look hurt. Pain and determination mixing in the cauldron of her pupils. She stares at Améline. There’s understanding there. And pain. So, so much pain.
“It’s a difficult choice.” Améline murmurs, all pretence of lecturing Hitomi gone. “But what do you really want?”
Veiðan urges them to keep walking. Hitomi is deep in thought, but visibly still feeling the pain.
Améline follows along in silence, letting Hitomi process her advice at her own pace.
Veiðan stands close to Hitomi. Finally, Hitomi speaks again as they approach Bulruk’s tent.
“Veiðan?”
“Yes?”
“What did you think Maudra Rua would do?”
“I thought she would fight the gods.”
“What about people?”
“She would do that too.”
Hitomi looks at her in dismay. “And you accepted that?”
Veiðan simply nods.
Hitomi looks at her in utter shock. “How… how could you want that?”
“Because the Realms have to fight ba–“
“And kill people?” Hitomi looks enraged again. “And kill all those people? Who did nothing wrong? Whose only crime was living?”
Veiðan responds quickly. Too quickly. “I don’t live to fight the gods. But someone has to.”
“And kill the innocent people? The same people who are your people! Refugees, exiles, and other displaced people are your people. Are you telling me you would inflict that on others?”
Veiðan just stares at her lover. All the hurt is so apparent to her. Veiðan sighs. There are no words.
“I never fight people who can’t fight back. It’s not a good fight.”
“Oh so that’s why?”
Veiðan just keeps staring. Not in pain, not in anger. Just in realizing what is being said.
“I’d rather fight what preys upon them.”
“What? Because it’s more fun?”
“Yes.”
“But not because it would bother you if you killed people?”
“No. It would bother me. That wouldn’t be a fight. That wouldn’t be Gorkamorka’s way. It would be the Blood God’s way.”
Hitomi just keeps looking at her lover, slowly understanding. Veiðan keeps talking.
“Killing for the sake of killing only brings what The Slaughterer wants. I don’t fight to kill. I fight because I love fighting. It makes me free. Fighting people who can’t fight isn’t fighting. It’s slaughtering.”
She takes a breath, choosing her next words carefully.
“But nature doesn’t choose, Hitomi. Maudra Rua would kill. As do hurricanes, tornados, and beasts. That is the way the Realms are. It’s the way they should be. The Realms need to be wild again, Hitomi.”
She takes another breath. Few of you might notice stress, of all things, on Veiðan.
“So what do you believe, then?” Hitomi says quietly, staring at the ground.
“What do you think I believe?” Veiðan says, flatly.
Hitomi thinks on this for a while. She loves fighting. She loves scrapping with the biggest things. She loves what she does. She says it makes her free. She doesn’t wander to kill gods. She wanders because she wants to. She wants to find the next battle, and it doesn’t matter where that is for her.
And after every one, Veiðan is with her, helping her taking care of the wounded.
Hitomi looks up and smiles. She knows what Veiðan believes in.
Veiðan smiles back.
Hitomi looks at Améline and just smiles. “I think I know what I want.”
Veiðan proceeds to catch up to Wazchoppa. “Why do you like fungus beer? I think it smells rancid.”
Améline grunts in response.
“Good.”
The simple response doesn’t do justice to her expression, highlighted by the lights of her eyes against the darkening night-time. A smile, happy and a little relieved, graces her as she looks down at Hitomi.
Hitomi takes a breath. “Well today’s been eventful, to say the least.”
“Hrm. And tomorrow…”
Améline releases a breath, and her smile dips a little.
“Will only be more so.”
“Oh, great.” Hitomi says, on a loudly sarcastic tone. “Hey Veiðan, hear that?”
Veiðan turns a little.
“Tomorrow is gonna be even busier!”
Veiðan smiles.
“Another fight.”
“Can we go on a walk again tomorrow?”
Veiðan’s face shows she immediately understands the implications of doing so.
“No.”
“Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun! Since when did you run from a potential fight?”
Veiðan’s look screams “Did you just?”
“You two should be safe, for…”
Améline tilts her head to the side. The lightning in her eyes flare up momentarily.
“A few weeks. The Arcanites won’t make another attempt on your life until at least then.”
Hitomi just raises an eyebrow and grins. Veiðan’s face doesn’t change.
“We can go out.”
“Just keep an eye out for Gadthropes while you’re out. It’ll hurt if you’re bit by one.”
“It won’t hurt,” Veiðan says flatly.
“Maybe we won’t get ambushed this time.”
Améline’s smile tugs wider.
“Hitomi, if she does get bitten, be sure to remind her that she said that ‘it won’t hu-‘”
Améline stops and turns to the horizon. Her eyes flare up again, and her smile drops away.
“I have to go.”
Hitomi’s confusion is entirely apparent.
“Oh believe me, I won’t let her forg — Uh, what? Everything okay Améline?”
Veiðan wastes no time, and is entiely unfazed by her sudden change in demeanor.
“Save who you can, Améline. I’ll do the same.”
She raises a closed fist to brow level — a final send off.
Améline brings a fist up to her chest, a salute back in kind.
“I’ll do what I can.”
She turns to look at Hitomi, as she raises the fist further into the air. Lightning begins to crackle between her fingers.
“There’s Cabal about to force inhabitants of the Scarlands to surrender their magic. It’ll be a bloodbath.”
“And we’ll cut a bloody swath through it on our way to Feralfang,” Veiðan yells out gleefully. Hitomi seems personally concerned.
“Guess I better not be found,” she says, a litle worried but also now determined
“Thank you, Améline. Be safe.,” Hitomi says as her goodbye.
“I’ll try my best.”
Améline opens up her hand, illuminating the dark with celestial light.
“Remember your promise to me.”
For a split-second, it seems like there is a bolt of lightning leaping out of her hand into the sky; then, in a blinding flash, she is gone.
