Fiction The First and the Last

Short update: I am halfway happy with chapter 8, 9 and 10 now, working on 11, so you can probably expect another one getting posted soon.

I am holding them back because now and then I go back to them and change something to keep the story consistent. A harder task than one might think. And I don't want to have to go back and change major things after I already posted a chapter.

But in the last two weeks I have made substantial progress with chapter 11 (of 14 probably), so thank you for the likes, they are part of what keeps the story going.

I am also considering posting the story on reddit or so (maybe in r/WarhammerFanFiction and/or r/aosLore, tagged as fan fiction) eventually.

Reasoning behind that is that the story has around 42.000 words at this point (for comparison: Orwell's "Animal Farm" has 30.000 and F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby" has 47.000), so now I am getting to an amount of work I put in there that starts to make me sad that only a handful people ever read it.

 

eh... a similar thing can be said for our short stories.
I've made more than 20 entries for the various short story comp.
Let's say 1500 words on average, it's already more than 30.000, and again it's just a handful of people

 

Wow, I never realized it but you entered a piece basically every time.
I am jealous, because I just can't come up with something creative for all the prompts _and_ find the time to explore it in a story without using 5000 words.

I'm not sure why I feel different about this story tham about the others (I have written only three short stories for contests I think). Probably because it is monolithic. The others are short and finished. If I don't finish this one and show it to the world (lol) it will be large and unfinished, which is somewhat worse.

In my mind I think I have already made the decision to never write something as long as this ever again. It is kinda stressful to have it in the back of your mind, and so much work still to do.
The short stories I wrote were all written down in one or two evenings.

Once I am done with it I might actually have time to write short stories again. I am sad that I have to disappoint y'all (especially @Scalenex but really all of those who also take part in the competitions, because those are the people who I _know_ write and read the stories) by not writing any more of them.
But I fear that if I stray too far from TFaTL I will eventually stop and never finish it.
I have one such a project (a Wing Commander fanfic I never finished despite getting close, almost 20 years ago) and I still think about that story and feel bad.

 

Hey y'all!

Here is the next chapter. Last we left off Jarel in the Sour Lake Post, helping to defend it from the Nurgle troops that attack it, with help of Saurus Knights and Skinks.


Chapter 8: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They continued through the city as quickly as they could while still maintaining mutual support. Getting to where the battle raged was important, but not important enough to run headfirst into a trap.
When they got closer to the fighting they met more and more humans and a handful of Duardin. Most of them were either civilians or wounded soldiers who retreated.
"Blue is friendly" was a phrase many of them uttered. So the runners had carried out their task. Jarel hoped that it would be sufficient, he didn't want to be responsible for a lizardman's death.
Some joined Jarel's forces, but many ran into the other direction. Jarel asked one of them where they were going.
"The harbor" the old woman said before she walked on. "Maybe we can get away on the fishing boats".
That was indeed not a bad idea. If the Nurgle followers had had boats they would have used them to cross the Green river or the Sour Lake. So being on the water probably was reasonably safe.
Shortly after they had met the woman they met the first enemies. Nurglings were small so they could slip past the guards and spread mayhem in the town. The Skinks quickly dispatched them.
But soon they met real resistance. Small groups of guards were still fighting in the streets, but they were retreating. Both daemons and mortal followers of Nurgle hacked their way through the merchant district, and Nay-Noatl's Saurus knights did their best to join up with the inhabitants so they could form a larger force together. Again Jarel noticed that many of the guardsmen were almost as scared of the Seraphon as of the Nurgle daemons, but at least most of them quickly realized that their chances of survival were a lot better on this side of the conflict.
Fighting in the narrow streets was as hard for the daemons as for the Seraphon, maybe even more so. They could not use their strength of numbers fully to their advantage, sometimes two Saurus and their mounts could hold a street against far more daemons.
Jarel himself concentrated on the daemons, such as Nurglings and Plaguebringers. They could be quite resilient, but the twisted mortal followers of Nurgle were often bigger, faster, and stronger. Probably because they were less rotten but Jarel was not sure.
He lost count of how many he had slain after a while. Having Nay-Noatl at his side was like fighting alongside a tank. Even Tepi had done some significant damage with his javelin. They were holding up well against the daemons. But just as it seemed like they would get a chance to rest for a moment, they encountered a terrified fleeing guardsmen. "They conquered the market square!" he shouted. Jarel tried to stop him from fleeing. "Stay with us! We can fight them" he urged. But the young man shook his head. "No, you don't understand! There are too many of them, and from there they can go everywhere in town! We have to regroup or they will circle us!"
For a moment Jarel wondered whether Nay-Noatl had understood those words, or if it had been his experience that told him what he needed to know without understanding them. "Retreat!" the Scar-Veteran shouted, and they moved back toward the northwest. When Jarel looked around and saw daemons and their plague-ridden mortal followers pour out of the streets behind them like liquid he knew that the decision had been right. Everyone who had still been in the market district was now dead. And the daemons had begun singing again. The lyrics were garbled, but Jarel could understand some parts about a joyous journey with the Grandfather making flowers grow. Jarel knew the song, it was the same his friends had died to. He fought the urge to puke.
By now the Nurgle followers were slowing down from their frenzy. They knew that they had met proper resistance and coordinated their attack better. That gave the Seraphon time to build some makeshift barricades and improve their defense, but they knew it was a matter of time until the Nurgle troops would gain the upper hand. The goal was now to slow them down, so as many townsfolk as possible could escape either to the harbor or to the hills in the northwest.
Smoke started to fill the air over the Sour Lake Post. Either the Rotbringers or the fleeing guardsmen had set some of the houses on fire. Without anyone fighting them the city would be ablaze quickly. Jarel could only hope that the fires would be as bad for the daemons as for the defenders. They could also hear explosions now and then, a few buildings even collapsed. And those explosions were getting closer.
The young guardsman named Darin had stayed with Jarel after all. Now that he was surrounded by the lizardmen he had regained some of his courage. Nay-Noatl directed them, and they covered the Scar-Veteran's back while he sometimes charged into incoming enemies and then quickly retreated after killing a couple of large targets. Other Saurus knights were doing the same, and from what Jarel could hear from the Skinks their losses were still relatively low. Only three Saurus and five Skinks had died in the city so far. That was enough for Jarel to have mixed feelings though. Did they even have a chance? Had Nay-Noatl been right after all?
When they had to give up yet another street and retreated deeper back into the craftsmen district the young guardsman stopped, then ran into a side alley.
"There's someone still here!" he exclaimed, pointing at one of the houses. "I just saw a child at the window!" Jarel informed Nay-Noatl, and by now the Saurus had understood that the humans' priorities were unlike his own, so he did not try to stop them.
He growled loudly though. "Hurry! They are coming!"
Jarel and the guardsman ran up the stairs outside the building and kicked in the wooden door, while Tepi covered them. Inside sat two frightened little children who apparently had believed that a wooden door would save them from whatever was outside. The guardsman grabbed the boy's hand and told him to stay close, while Jarel carried the little girl out. She was too shocked to move, but clung to him tightly.
An explosion rocked the buildings, and the little boy gasped as he pointed over Jarel's shoulder. Jarel turned his head, just in time to witness one of the buildings in the alley collapse. He shielded the little girl from the falling debris, but he felt that he had been hit in the back. "Are you alright, Jarel?" Tepi asked as the smoke and dust began to settle over them. "I'll be once we are out of here" Jarel responded, while he reoriented to get back to Nay-Noatl. Then he realized that the building had blocked their path back. They had been cut off.

The crying children didn't make it any easier. Darin tried his best to calm them down, while Jarel and Tepi tried to find a way back to Nay-Noatl. There was none. The rubble from the buildings was unstable and the kicked up dust still clouded their view, so they tried to find another way. On the other end of the alley was a small square between a few larger buildings. Darin suggested to go there, and then back to the north. Jarel scouted ahead followed by Darin and the children, with Tepi covering their back.
They almost ran into a Plaguebearer when they entered the square. The daemon apparently had come through another alley that led to the south, and thankfully it was as surprised as them.
"Run!" Jarel screamed, while leaping forward and smashing his buckler into the daemon's face. That little opening allowed the others to run past it toward the north, where Jarel knew they would meet a few Saurus.
With his back toward what he assumed to be a safe direction Jarel started his duel with the Plaguebearer. He considered himself lucky that he was facing just one. He had fought them one on one before and knew he could win. The daemon's stench attracted flies that circled it and sat all over its skin and even on its single, swollen eye. Now and then it used its long tongue to lick the mouth that looked like it was at least one size too big for its face, the rest of the time it displayed a mad grin. Its belly seemed to have a mouth as well, and Jarel was happy that it was closed. The daemon cheered as it lunged forward with its sword that looked like it was made of sharpened bone. Jarel easily dodged the attack despite his aching back. He knew he was faster than the daemon, but that a single strike would most likely not kill it. Once again he wished that he had a breastplate or other parts of armor, but until he got one he would have to use speed to save himself from his enemies. He feinted high and made the daemon twitch, a movement that allowed him to drive his sidesword's point into his enemy's shoulder. Quickly he retreated a few steps back. A human hit in that spot would die quickly, but the daemon just laughed about the blood spraying out of the wound, and carried out another attack. Again Jarel dodged and this time he managed to place a proper cut at the daemon's leg. It collapsed, and Jarel stabbed it into its belly-maw. The maw snapped at the sidesword as he drew it back, but he janked it free and struck the creature's arm, almost chopping it off. The Plaguebearer was still not done. It used its other arm to crawl toward Jarel, still laughing, and swung its half-severed arm around like a flail. When it hit Jarel's boot its fingers held on to it, and Jarel lost his balance. Again the daemon cheered and crawled closer, its misformed hands grabbing at the human's legs.
"Just die already!" Jarel screamed at it, and his next swing cut off the daemon's arm completely. As he got up he drove his sidesword into the creature's eye and it finally stopped moving.
Taking a step back from the stinking corpse Jarel looked around on the small square, then turned around to follow Tepi and Darin.
"Jarel! Glad to see you alive!" a familiar voice exclaimed.

* * *

Jarel almost dropped his sword when he recognized the voice. A cold chill went down his spine as he swung around and looked at the tall human figure that had appeared through one of the streets that met at the square. Like Jarel, the man had a sidesword in his hand, and as he walked confidently through the semi-darkness of the square's far side toward Jarel, he wiped his bald head with his sleeve, a wide grin on his face.
"Silas," Jarel stammered breathlessly, "how did you... I saw you fall!" he blurted out, taking a step back. A little voice in his head already tried to tell him the truth, but he was too caught in the moment to pay it any attention.
Silas had stopped. He held up his hand in a soothing gesture and shook his head. "We were wrong, Jarel. We were so wrong!" he smilingly exclaimed. "There is no need to fight Nurgle, we just didn't understand him. You have to see the true beauty of his blessings, Jarel. Like one of the dresses your Ma made, you know? They always looked crappy when they weren't finished, but when Gella put that finished one on it made us drool, do you remember?" He laughed. Jarel didn't find the strength to interrupt him, so Silas continued. "We are gifted. The Grandfather's men are finally coming to Ghur, and this time they will get the chance to prove us all how much better the world is when we are all part of the party. Everything will grow and thrive, no more wastes and all those beasts, only laughter and joy for everyone! Just look at me!" he added, taking a step forward so Jarel could see him in a better light. "Sure, they had to give me a little nudge so I could see it myself," he admitted shrugging, "but remember how your Pa always said that nothing is without risk? They even forgave me that I hurt a few of the little ones. They are really nice!"
His friend had always been tall and quite a bit more muscular than Jarel, although not quite as big as Lutz. In the weeks since the battle he seemed to have grown, but not in a good way. His body had become bloated and his left hand had been turned into something that looked more like a claw than a hand. His face looked almost as it always had looked, with the friendly blue eyes and the strong jaw, but it was covered in flea bites and half of one ear was missing. Like Jarel Silas wore no armor and parts of his uniform were gone. But where Jarel's uniform had been replaced with smooth cloth made by the lizardmen, Silas' had been completely removed and Jarel could see that the skin below had taken on a sickly green tint and was covered in wounds and what looked like large plague-boils. A foot-long spike had grown out of the right shoulder and someone had decorated it with the pommel of a Freeguild greatsword.
"No," Jarel said, his voice breaking. "Look at you, look what they have done!"
Silas laughed. "It's alright, Jarel, you just have to get used to it. I feel great, better than I ever felt in my whole life!"
"They killed Ponn! And almost everybody in the Sixth, and they turned you into a monster!" Jarel screamed, more at himself than at Silas, because slowly his mind began to clear up and he knew what was about to happen. What had to happen.
"I am not a monster Jarel, I am a king!" Silas announced proudly.
Jarel took a deep breath "Only a king of the blighted ones" he lamented, tears streaming down his face. He blinked them away as well as he could and readied his sword.
"Alright, alright, buddy." Silas said nodding. "I will show you. Then you will see it, too." With that he raised his sidesword to a salute, like before a sparring fight. Then he ran toward Jarel.
Usually swordsmen did not charge in that way unless they were Orruks, or just dumb.
Jarel still was not quite ready for the impact. He barely had time to parry Silas' first low swing, then Silas crashed into him, shoulder first. The hit send Jarel flying but he rolled on the ground and came to his feet quickly enough to deflect the next swing by Silas with his Skink buckler. Jarel had no choice other than than to retreat slowly, as Silas did not give him the time to find better footing. A thrust knocked his buckler aside so he had to parry the following swing with his sword. Silas blew right through the static parry and Jarel got hit in the head with his own handguard. Dazed he took a step back, while Silas laughed. "See? I told you I got better. See how strong I am!"
That pause gave Jarel time to finally start an attack of his own. He feinted high and caught the parry with his buckler while striking low. He placed a cut on Silas thigh but barely got any reaction. Silas just shrugged and attacked again, and once more the raw strength that the Chaos God had lent him beat Jarel's capabilities. He caught the swing with his buckler but was not able to deflect it properly. A sharp pain in his wrist made him drop the buckler, and Silas laughed roaringly as he saw Jarel frantically look for it. Like a good sportsman Silas took his time while Jarel quickly picked up his buckler. When Jarel looked up again he saw Silas doing moulinettes while grinning and casually strolling toward Jarel. He paused and looked at the sky for a moment when a shadow similar to that of a bird passed over them. Jarel almost had not paid it any mind, but when a second, third, and fourth shadow of that kind followed and he heard the flapping of the bat-like wings the shadows belonged to, he gained some hope. Silas apparently did not know or care about Terradons, the Rotbringer's blue eyes concentrated on Jarel again and once more it was time to defend against a series of cuts. Each parry felt like being hit with a sledgehammer and Jarel knew he would not be able to take this very long. He tried to stay out of measure to catch his breath, but that was not easy against someone with long arms.
A bright yellow flash filled the sky in the east, and a short moment later an explosion rocked the ground. Silas paused with a confused look on his face while another followed, and then three or four more shortly after another, each accompanied by a little earthquake that shook the ground and shattered windows.
Jarel saw his chance to strike, but Silas deflected the blow with his claw-hand then kicked Jarel in the stomach. Jarel felt the air leaving his lungs, and stumbled backwards. His back against the large tree in the middle of the square he managed to deflect two more swings, Silas looked as fresh as before the fight. A crackling noise made him look around. Small pieces of wood and stone started pelting onto the square from above. Some of them were charred or even glowing. A few of them hit Silas from above, which gave Jarel a few precious seconds to recover while the Rotbringer looked at them. He considered running, but something told him that he had to stay and fight, maybe to give his friends a better chance to retreat, maybe because he saw it as his duty to fight Silas. He had been the one to leave his friend behind, and now he had been corrupted by Nurgle. He spat on the ground, then he advanced again, heavily panting. Silas just grinned and met Jarel's first blow with a static parry not unlike the one that had failed Jarel so terribly just a moment earlier. It felt like hitting a solid wall, but Jarel continued with two more strikes, then lunged forward, trying to stab his opponent in the chest. Silas deflected the thrust and grabbed Jarel's sword hand with his claw. Then he struck him in the face with the grip of his sword, before throwing him away like a puppet. Half-conciously Jarel crawled backwards, toward one of the alleys. This fight was over, and he had lost. An overwhelming feeling of sadness and anger filled his mind. Defeat.
Again Silas took his time. He ignored Jarel and looked around, he even turned his back at him. Ash and smoke started to fall like snow, and Silas pointed at it. "Was that the lizards?" he asked, but did not wait for an answer "Destruction," he explained, "that's all they bring. No life and laughter like the Grandfather offers" he continued while walking around the square, ignoring that Jarel kept crawling away from him.
A moment later Silas' monologue was interrupted by a piercing sound, like someone playing Duardin bagpipes, but in a horribly unmelodic and arhythmic way.
"Ah, the sweet sound of the piper calls for me, Jarel" Silas exclaimed, "so I guess our little match has to be postponed. 'No time to kill', as my Ma always said. But I have a parting gift for you, from the Grandfather himself. You will like it!"
With that he squeezed one of the larger plague-boils on his body, and took out a slimy green ball.
"Have fun!" he screamed laughing, and hurled it toward Jarel in a high arc before he turned and jogged toward the southeast.
As the Blightking that once had been his best friend disappeared into the alley and the slimy ball flew toward him, Jarel hoped that he had bought enough time for the children to flee.
He also hoped that he would have enough time to stab himself after being hit, so he would not join Nurgle's army, as Silas had.
The slime ball descended toward him, slower than a projectile usually moved. And not in a straight line. As it came closer Jarel could see that it had wings. Some kind of corrupted insect, not much smaller than a fist. He could hear its wings buzzing as it continued to fly into his direction. There was no time to dodge. Jarel raised his buckler but there was hardly a chance that he would be able to swat the insect with it.
But something else did. With a hiss a small Skink darted out of the alley and jumped to intercept the fly. Jarel heard a disgusting sound similar to that of a fruit being squashed as the Skink met the insect. Through his blurry vision he could see the lizard fall. He crawled forward.
Tepi lay only a few feet away from him, covered in green Nurgle slime, choking and quivering.

 

In other news: I am making good progress on the 11th chapter. Almost finished, I expect to start writing down chapter 12 as early as today.
Current estimate is that I will end up with 15 chapters and an epilogue.

 

Poor Tepi...

 

Short update: I am going on vacation next week and will probably be able to finish another chapter during that time.

So Jarel's story will continue soon-ish.

 

So here is the next chapter.

I re-wrote some parts of it, yet I am still not quite happy with it. I just can't say what exactly I don't like about it, but there might be a plot hole or two lurking, and maybe it also is the pacing. Anyway, here it is. Hope y'all will enjoy it nonetheless.


Chapter 9: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jarel crawled closer. The bug had burst in Tepi's face, its green slime was everywhere. The stench almost overwhelmed Jarel even from three feet away. Tepi was trying to get the slime off his face, but his movements looked frantic and uncoordinated. Jarel wanted to help him, but he knew that he had to avoid touching the slime. He looked around and even though his vision was still blurry he could see a bucket of water near the door of a house. He staggered over and grabbed it, and then poured it over Tepi to clean him from the slime. It worked, but Tepi did not look good. He was pale, his third eyelids were half closed, and the yellow eyes had a reddish tint. He was still coughing but at least he had stopped clawing at his own face.
"We have to get you to a healer" Jarel told him, "can you walk?"
Tepi tried to get up, but he would not have made it without Jarel's help, Jarel himself almost fell when he helped him. Together they walked toward the north as well as they could.
The next alley was empty. Jarel had hoped to see Saurus warriors but there were none.
"Where are Darin and the kids?" he asked Tepi. "Where did they go?"
Tepi pointed wearily into a direction and Jarel walked there, supporting his friend as well as he could.
When the Skink fell for the third time and Jarel tried to pick him up again he noticed that Tepi tried to brush his hand off. "No," the Skink said, looking at Jarel with one half open eye. "Leave me."
For Jarel that was not a possibility. "I won't. You came back and saved my life. The First must be just around the corner, just a little further along the street. Come on, get up!"
"You saved my life, too. In the woods. We are even. Go." the Skink insisted.
"No, Tepi. I will not leave you."
"I am expendable Jarel. Just a Skink." Jarel could hear the confusion in the blue lizard's voice.
New strength flowed through him. It was his anger that fueled it. Anger about Silas, Nurgle's and his corruption, and the lizardmen and their cold way of thinking. Anger about the Stormcast abandoning the people of the Realms, and about himself, that his lack of ability had gotten him into this situation and that yet another friend was dying for him.
"NO!" he screamed into the lizardman's face as he grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder.
He stumbled more than once as he walked to the north, but he kept talking to Tepi even though the Skink stopped responding after a few minutes.
He almost lost hope as he recognized several spots they had fought at before, when they had advanced through the streets. Now and then he saw a few dead daemons or humans, and once they walked past the body of a dead Cold One. But there were no Seraphon. He continued, concentrating on every step and stopping to pay attention to their surroundings. If there were lizardmen around they would help him, and if there were enemies they would kill him. Everything else did not matter anymore. Just one foot in front of the other, then the next one, trying not to fall, moving forward.
Tepi was not moving anymore. But it didn't matter. He would not abandon him. He would reach the Seraphon.

* * *

Pain. Jarel opened his eyes. Apparently he had fallen. He didn't remember, but as he looked around he saw Seraphon and humans. He was outside the settlement walls on the grassy hills, the Sour Lake in view. Around him were Saurus and their Cold Ones, and some of the Skinks. A large black column of smoke was still rising from the settlement, and Jarel could see that townsfolk with all kinds of buckets, tubs and barrels on carts were moving between the lake and the Sour Lake Post.
But what stood out most were the dozen or so Terradons and their riders standing around. The large winged reptiles nervously moved around their long beaks whenever their purple-crested riders were not close to them, looking into every direction. They probably knew that they were much more vulnerable on the ground than in the air. There was one of them in the air at all times, to scout and warn them if enemies were coming close.
The sound of human voices distracted him from the Terradons. They were shouting at a Skink priest, who apparently did not speak their language. As Jarel looked at them, one of the Saurus warriors who stood next to the priest stepped forward, spear in hand, and made sure that the humans understood to not act too aggressively.
Jarel got up and checked himself for wounds. There were none. Except a splitting headache it seemed that he was fine, even his muscles were not as sore as he had expected them to be after the fight and carrying Tepi.
Tepi. Where was he? Jarel looked around and saw several Skinks, a few Saurus and their mounts around him. Some were still asleep and others were just waking up and rejoining their units. Tepi was nowhere around, Jarel would have recognized him at first glance because of his missing crest color. Surely the priest would know.
Jarel walked toward the priest with the purple headgear made of feathers, and his Saurus bodyguards who were still trying to calm down the small group of humans in front of them. One of the men apparently was a city guard or militia member, the other ones looked like fishermen and merchants.
"What's wrong?" Jarel asked them.
"They are upset because of the collateral damage I think" the priest speculated, "but you could ask them yourself."
Again Jarel had forgotten that he spoke the Seraphon language without thinking about it.
He turned toward the townspeople and repeated the question, this time making sure that he used their language.
"I'll tell you what's wrong!" the merchant with the expensive but dirty cap on his head shouted at him. "Your lizard-friends here bombed the market district with their flying beasts!" he exclaimed while gesturing at the Terradons in a way that made them turn their heads toward him. "Everything is gone, no house is still standing, and what wasn't turned to rubble is now burning to the ground. We are lucky that the fire hasn't spread to the other parts of the city. If this is the kind of help you offer then we would probably be better off fighting the daemons alone!"
Jarel smiled sarcastically. It had been drastic, but if the Seraphon had not helped then everybody in the city would now be dead or worse. He had seen the floods of Nurgle-followers and daemons coming out of the market district.
But before he could formulate an appropriate response another voice answered from his left.
"We would all be dead without them, Gidor, and you know that. Yes, we have lost a good part of the city, and some people died. But houses can be rebuilt, and thanks to the lizardmen we still have the people to do so" Darin explained to the red-faced merchant. Now that he was not panicking anymore the young guardsman's voice sounded quite a bit lower, and filled with determination. "Now go and help the other merchants with organizing the remaining food supplies. If we want the Sour Lake Post to survive this we all have to do our part. Your wife is coordinating the work right now, so I don't see any reason for you to not join her."
The discussion went on for a little while, with Jarel translating for the Seraphon, but eventually the humans went back into their city. Jarel put a hand on Darin's shoulder.

"I am glad you made it" Jarel told him. "Are the kids alright?"
"They are. We ran into a few Skinks after you bought us time, and after the battle we found their mother. She was on one of the boats that made it out of the harbor. I am glad that you made it out as well. I didn't understand what the lizards were saying, but I think one of the flyers spotted you and a group of Saurus got you out of there so the priest could heal you."
"What about the Skink who was with me?" Jarel inquired. Where is he?
Darin shrugged. "I don't know, I immediately went back into the city with a few others. But... he didn't look good Jarel. I hope he made it. You should ask the priest, I have to go and help the people in town. The head of our city guard is missing and we lost a few officers, so right now it seems that I am the highest ranking one still alive and capable of fighting."
Jarel shook the other man's hand and then made his way to the Skink priest who was now brushing one of the Terradons. For a moment it seemed strange to Jarel that a priest would do that kind of work, until he realized that this was the priest's own mount. He had apparently come with the Terradon riders.

"Thank you for your help." Jarel said with a bow. The priest only answered with a short nod before he turned back to his mount.
"It is our duty to follow our orders" he said, and Jarel was not sure whether he talked to the winged beast or him.
"We haven't met yet. I am Jarel" he tried to establish a conversation.
"I know. You may call me Paloni" the priest answered, but he did not seem too interested in talking to Jarel.
Jarel decided to cut things short and get right to the point.
"I am sorry to disturb you but I really need to know what happened to my friend Tepi, the Skink I was carrying."
With a sigh the priest stopped brushing his Terradon and turned around. The beast put its beak on his shoulder and the two stared at Jarel with very similar expressions on both of their faces.
"Because of Nurgle's foul plagues we have isolated the casualties" he said, pointing at the hills north of the city. "I did what I could and healed or at least stabilized those like you who still had a chance. But when I reached that Skink he was already as good as dead."
"Can I see him?" Jarel asked, but he already knew what the answer would be before Paloni shook his head.
"He sacrificed himself for me" Jarel exclaimed, both to himself and to the priest.
"It was his duty and he fulfilled it" Paloni stated.

Jarel had enough of this by now. He had quite some sense of duty himself, and had proven it more than once, but the way the Seraphon took it to extremes made him angry. For them the individual didn't seem to matter at all, unless the individual in question happened to be a Slann.
But before he could snap at the priest, another lizardman interrupted his thoughts.
"Warmblood!" Nay-Noatl's unmistakable raspy voice boomed. "We need you over here."
Still fuming with anger Jarel walked over to where the Scar-Veteran had gathered the Saurus and Skinks. Immediately he saw that they had taken some losses, and some of them were wounded. He hoped that the Saurus would give the order to follow the Nurgle forces. He would gladly hop onto a Cold One, ride it to battle, and skewer the Blightking that had once been his friend with a lance.

Instead Nay-Noatl only explained the situation:
The Nurgle troops had been greatly decimated with the help of the Terradon riders that had arrived just in time, and had used their bombs to kill hundreds of daemons by trapping them in a fire between collapsing buildings. But the surviving daemons had not retreated into the direction they had come from. Instead they had moved southwest along the shore of the Sour Lake, led by the Harbinger of Decay and a group of mortals. The slower daemons had remained in the city or fallen behind, and had been slain by the First. Nay-Noatl himself had killed dozens of them, including their Bilepiper, and now carried his skull and one of his pipes tied to a spike on his back.
The flying scouts reported that they were moving toward some ruins which the inhabitants of the Sour Lake Post described as empty. Many of the stone blocks from there had been carried away and used for buildings in the city.

To Jarel's delight Nay-Noatl had decided to stretch his orders a bit and follow them. Cold Ones were not exactly the fastest cavalry, but even with the headstart the Nurgle troops had Nay-Noatl suspected that the Saurus could reach them before they would have the chance to fortify their position. When Jarel asked the Scar-Veteran to be part of the group the big Saurus hesitated, but then agreed.
This time the Saurus had no mount to spare though, so Jarel would have to spend the three hour ride on the saddlebags of one of the knights. He was not looking forward to that, so he quickly made a few adjustments to the saddle using some material he got from the townsfolk.
When he was just finished with it, Darin once again walked over to him, carrying a large pouch on his back. His face was dirty from the soot of the fires, but he was looking more confident now. "The fires are under control" he announced with a relieved smile, "but Gidor was right, there is not much left of the market district. Whatever the Seraphon use in their bombs, it burns hot. And the explosions were at least as strong as any heavy mortar round I ever saw impact. Quite some buildings collapsed, the damage is actually worse than most of what the daemons did. But nothing we can't or won't rebuild. We paid a high price for this victory, but I don't see how it could have been achieved otherwise."
He paused. "Jarel, I don't know why you are here, how you ended up with your reptile friends, or what brought them to this province in the first place, and I don't know if you even have the permission or the time to tell me. but I do know that you were one of the reasons why the Seraphon helped us at all, and without you many more of us would have died" the guardsman began. "And I know that you have lost a lot of your equipment during your journey so I want to give you this" he said, while handing Jarel the pouch.
Jarel opened it and found a helmet, a cuirass, and sets of arm and leg armor in it. The plates were of good quality and well oiled, made in the style the Sour Lake Post guards wore.
"This belonged to my father. I cannot wear it as I have a slightly lighter frame than he had. But if I am not mistaken then you should be able to wear it, and he would be proud to see it used by someone who fights as bravely as you do."
"Thank you, Darin." Jarel said. "I know that you and the other guards were scared to death, but you still managed to put up a fight, and the way you acted when you saw the kids in that house tells me that you are a good man, and have quite some bravery in you as well. You were there when your town needed you." The guardsman smiled.

Sadly there indeed was not much time, now that the Saurus were preparing to chase down the Rotbringers, but Jarel tried the armor on while providing Darin with a rough outline of what had been his campaign up to this point. "I wish we had more time to talk, this sounds like a story that has to be told." Darin remarked while he helped Jarel to fit the breastplate. To his surprise Darin had been correct, the armor fit him quite well. The few places where it didn't could easily be fixed by adjusting some of the padding.
"I hope we will," Jarel agreed, "as soon as we have made sure that we have slain every last one of those that escaped. In the meantime I will do my best to honor this gift."
They had a quick meal of bread and a dry, hard sausage together, then a Saurus knight walked over and told Jarel to get ready to ride.
"Go and kill those Nurgle-bastards!" Darin exclaimed while Jarel climbed onto his makeshift saddle. Jarel nodded in agreement, and gave him a quick salute.
He took a last look at the Sour Lake Post and its inhabitants while he adjusted the padding and tried to make himself halfway comfortable behind the Saurus knight.
The black column of smoke was still there, but it was less intense, now that most of the fires had been put out, according to Darin. He saw townsfolk carrying out rubble by hand and on carts, and he saw people at the small cemetery outside the town's walls, burying those who had not lived.
Jarel wondered if Tepi had been buried, burned, or if the Seraphon had just left him, like the dead Skinks in the forest. He had wanted to ask Tepi about that, but forgotten to do it when more urgent problems had been on his mind. And now Tepi was dead and he would never ask him anything again.
He banished the thought. Now was not the time to mourn, now was the time to make sure that more mourning would not be necessary. He signalled the Saurus knight that he was ready to ride. The chase began.

 

Nonetheless, it's not bad.