Fiction The Light in Dark Places: Unexpected Allies

[Kor-Lot-Ko]

My first story on this sight. This is just the first instalment, more will be coming. Enjoy!



Today was a great day in Azyrheim. Men, duardin and aelvs alike had gathered in great numbers around the Field of Assembly to witness one of the great events of the realm of the heavens. An event, it should be noted, that had been occurring with greater and greater frequency in recent months.

The deployment of Stormcast Eternals.

Today, it was a warrior chamber from the Daughters of Sigmar stormhost. The Daughters were the seventh stormhost created by the God-King Sigmar, and consisted entirely of women, great warriors-queens and champions from across the eight realms. The chamber arrayed before the spectators today was known as the Banehammers. The chamber was named after its mistress, the Lady Celestant Morticia Chaosbane, who had, in her old life, single-handedly defeated an entire shoal of screamers in order to bide time for her people to escape the realm of shadows through the Azyr realmgate. It sealed behind them, trapping her with the daemonic hordes closing in. She fought on for almost a day, before being struck low by a Lord of Change. Sigmar saved her before the deathblow fell, and reforged her onto what she was today.

The people watched as Morticia rode onto the field on the back of her Dracoth, Aryath, her Steel-grey armor shining in the sun, the green shoulderpads vibrant. Around her walked her command staff; Lady Relicator Yericia Darkstorm strode at her left hand, silent and brooding as always, while Lady Castellant Leras Steelheart was at her right, her halberd and warding lantern clenched tight in her fists and her gryph-hound Steelbeak at her side. Knight Heraldor Tyressa Earthshaker walked off the the side slightly, her sigmarite warhorn resting casually on her shoulder. She was conversing with Knight Vexillior Amartine Windwalker, who moved rigidly in a parade-ground march, in stark contrast to the casual demeanor of her companion, the fabric of her Pennant of the Stormbringer flapping gently in the breeze. Above glided the “Winged Sisters”, Knight Azyros Indrid Daybringer and Knight Venator Astrid Deathstrike, twins who had been rescued from the realm of light and ascended together into Sigmar’s host. They surveyed the arranged host, occasionally making comments to one another.

And what a host it was.

The Banehammers were one of the larger warrior-chambers of their stormhost, numbering in at a little over two-hundred strong. The core of the force consisted of 8 ten-strong squads of Liberators, and 6 ten-strong squads of Judicators. This solid core was supported by 6 five-strong units of Prosecutors and warriors from the Paladin Chambers, two each units of Retributors, Decimators, and Protectors, each unit containing five warriors. It was a force worthy of Sigmar’s favor, and it would soon fall on bolts of lightning to begin the task of ridding the mortal realms of the taint of chaos.

Liberator Prime Ceris was filled with pride as she looked out at the citizens of Azyrheim. She saw their expressions; the joy, the excitement, and most significant, the hope that she and her sisters inspired. She turned her gaze to the crowds gathered around the field, and saw a pair of children, a duardin boy and a human girl, staring with undisguised awe at her and her squad of liberators. She smiled beneath her sigmarite mask and raised her hammer to the children in a sort salute. Their eyes popped in their heads and they looked excitedly at each other.

“You always were a woman of the people” chuckled the eternal standing at her side. .

Ceris glanced sideways at her friend Martha, the bearer of one of her squad's grandhammers, and her second in command. Ceris could tell by her body language that the other woman was grinning at her. It was a skill that all stormcast learned quickly, as it is necessary for judging others moods when you cannot see their face.

“We are their hope, their joy. We are the ones who will end the threat of chaos and bring peace to these realms. It seems only fitting that we should engage with them. I’d rather not just be some faceless steel statue that they watch from a distance.” Ceris responded to her sister’s comment.

“Well, to be fair, we more or less are steel statues. It’s just that we can move.” Martha replied.
Ceris was used to this banter between them, and opened her mouth to respond when a loud roar echoed through the field. In an instant, two hundred lightning-fueled warmachines had weapons raised and arrows knocked in preparation for an attack. The people surrounding the field looked around frantically for the source of the roar, just as a huge shadow soared out of the city and over the field. The Prosecutors took flight immediately to intercept the creature, but broke off when they realized that it was a Dragon.

The Banehammers lowered their weapons as the dragon came sweeping around the field to land before Lady Morticia. As the noble creature landed, Ceris could see that it had a saddle on its back, upon which sat a male aelf in heavy armor. The aelf dismounted, and she saw two more people jump from the dragon’s back, one a human woman in long, flowing robes dyed dark blue with white and purple trim, the other an older man who had a long, brown coat, wide-brimmed hat and a greatsword strapped across his back. The three stood alongside their reptilian mount while Lady Morticia approached, Yericia and Leras at her side.

As the stormcasts stopped about twenty feet from the newcomers, Morticia's Dracoth bowed her
head respectfully to the larger reptile, an action that the dragon returned.

As the two exchanged ‘formalities’, Morticia got right to business. “Greetings, Sir Aelf” She said. “Why have you come here? My sisters are about to deploy to begin our fight against the forces of chaos. What do you and your companions want, and why is it so important as to delay Sigmar’s work?”

The Aelf bowed at the waist. “My lady, I did not intend to create an issue. I am Lord Elion Fercast, the last of House Fercast. My companions are the witch hunter Heinrich Steinhaus of the order of eternal light, Lady Pauline Yandre of the order of Celestial Mages, and of course my companion, the great drake Firroth.”

He gestured to his companions as he introduced them, first the Older man, then the woman, and lastly the dragon. He turned back to Morticia and said “We have come to ask your permission to accompany you into the other realms. Each of us has suffered at the hands of the forces of chaos, and we wish to aid in their destruction.”

The woman was quiet for a moment then grunted. “Very well, you may accompany us. However, you will not be able to enter the realms like we can. You will have to wait here until my forces can secure a realm gate to Azyr for you to come through.”

“Of course. We are eternally grateful, my lady.” Lord Elion said, bowing again.

Morticia simply grunted in reply, then wheeled Aryath back towards her waiting sisters. She rode to their head, and surveyed the ranks of warriors before her. They were her charges, her sisters, and she was proud beyond measure that she would soon be thrown into battle alongside them. She looked at Sir Tyressa and nodded.

The Knight Heraldor stepped forwards and raised her horn to her lips, blowing a loud, trumpeting note on it. At this signal, the arranged forces on the Field of Assembly snapped to attention. Morticia dismounted from her dracoth and strode forwards, her warhammer grasped in her hand. She looked back and forth across the sea of gleaming steel and vibrant green, then spoke.

“My warriors, my sisters, you know that I am not one for long, flowery speeches. It is the role of a warrior to act, not to speak. But even I must stop and say something about what is to come.” Her voice carried across the field on the innate magic woven into the air itself by mages of old, so that each warrior could hear, in perfect clarity, what their leader was saying. “Today, we form yet another speartip that will be cast into the mortal realms in our crusade to free them. Today, we begin the long task of retaking the stolen, corrupted lands that chaos usurped so many years ago. TODAY” she bellowed “we strike into the heart of evil! We will fall from the heavens on bolts of lightning to deliver the wrath of a billion murdered souls to the ones that killed them. And we will aid those who, even after all this time, survive and fight the forces of the Anathema still. THE LIVING WE SAVE!!!” She roared.

“THE DEAD WE AVENGE!!!” Two hundred voices roared in response.

Her speech concluded, the Celestant turned to Indrid Daybringer. “Take a vanguard wing and find a realmgate back to Azyr. Our King should be able to place you relatively close to one. Once you have found it, we will descend with the rest of the chamber to secure it. Good luck, and may Sigmar watch over you.”

The Azyros noded her compliance. “And you as well.” She turned to her twin and they grasped arms in a warrior's farewell. Then, she soared into the sky, three units of Prosecutors following her.

Farther out in the field, Ceris and Martha watched as their winged comrades took flight and began to move towards them. “Well.” Martha said. “It seems that we will be among the first ones in.”

“Indeed” Ceris replied. She turned to her battle-sisters and barked “Defensive formation! We go in his name!” Instantly, her fellow liberators responded, forming a circular shieldwall, locking their tower shields together with their grandhammers in the centre of the circle, able to respond to the most significant threat no matter where it arises.

The prosecutors passed overhead, and Ceris felt the magic that flowed through her veins begin to pulse as the lightning built around her. As she flashed from one realm to the next she thought It will be nice to see Ulgu again. I wonder what has changed since I was chosen…

…​

High above Azyrheim, an ancient being slowly opened its eyes after hundreds of years of meditation and slumber. The Slann Starmaster had been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

And now, it was time to set his plans in motion.

Lord Malzareth floated his palaquin to the door to his chambers, where his Eternity Warden had stood vigil for all this time. With a thought, he bid the doors to open, and saw several skinks standing in the hallway, flabbergasted at the unexpected appearance of their lord.

Malzareth pointed at one of the skinks and said, in a deep, watery voice “Get me Stealrek and his band. I have need of them.”

The skink scurried off extremely quickly, and not five minutes later a dozen dark shapes meterialized from the shadows of the temple to kneel before the slann.

“What do you need of us, master?” Asked the chameleon stalker, Stealrek.

The slann did not reply, but instead projected into their minds the mission he had for them. “Understood.” The skink said. “We will not fail.” And with a flash of starlight and a thought from the Starmaster, the hunters were gone.

 

[thedarkfourth]

Great intro! Nice to have a serious contingent of female characters at last. The only improvement I can recommend is lines between paragraphs

 

[spawning of Bob]

Oh, this is just so epic.

My favourite bit?

Instantly, her fellow liberators responded, forming a circular shield wall, locking their shields together with their granhammers in the center of the circle,

Kor-Lot-Ko, did...did you just reference grandmas with weapons of mass smooshing?

You are now my favourite lizard ever.

Bring me moar!

Spoiler: boring proof read stuff

You are churning out some very readable stuff. There were a couple of minor things you might want to edit.

"Lord" - your highest ranked soldierettes are designated "Lord". I think you can call them "Lady" without eroding their awesome.

Lord Relicator Seris Darkstorm strode / Liberator Prime Ceris was filled with pride - the names are close enough to cause confusion (it did in me because the rank titles are unfamiliar and I actually assumed you has misquoted the title, not introduced a second character. I cleared it up, but needed to jump up and a down a paragraph or so to straighten things out. May I suggest the name "Bobina" for the higher ranked one.

“Well, be be fair, we more or less - typo

Her speech concluded, the Celastant turned - typo

Good luck, and may sigmar watch over you.” - give the poor whipping boy of heaven a capital, please.

locking theit twowe shields - wha....?

with their granhammers - hooray! Undeniably ancient female warriors!

 

[Bowser]

This is amazing I am excited! A mix between Wonder Woman amazons and the golden girls! Don't know why I pictured Morticia as Bea Arthur but I did! Granhammers solidified that for me! But yeah I am pumped for the next section!

 

[tom ndege]

Good one! More please!

 

[spawning of Bob]

This is amazing I am excited! A mix between Wonder Woman amazons and the golden girls! Don't know why I pictured Morticia as Bea Arthur but I did! Granhammers solidified that for me! But yeah I am pumped for the next section!

I am upset. I actually wrote, "did you just reference Golden Girls, the Fantasy Edition" in my reply. I decided the link was a bit too much of a stretch.

 

[Scalenex]

You got under Bob's skin, so good job @Bowser.

More importantly, good job @Kor-Lot-Ko . Excellent first piece! I hope this introduction is just the first of many more fine installments. I am adding you to the Lustriapedia. And I need to modify some of the other entries. We have had so much new blood lately I think two or three authors may be "the newest author in the Lustriapedia"

 

[Kor-Lot-Ko]

Thank you guys for all the feedback. As you have requested, here is Moar.

.....................................................​

There was a brief moment of disorientation as a new landscape formed around Ceris. Gone was the Field of assembly, and the shining city of Azyrheim. In their place was an old, crumbling cobblestone bridge that crossed a wide river of sluggish, pitch-black water. She could just barely make out the banks of the river, for the entire area was covered in a thick layer of mist, which swirled around her and her sisters. It was a tad unnerving, to be surrounded by gloom and darkness after so long in the bright, clear environment of Azyr.

Still, she felt a vague sense of familiarity, of comfort, bubbling up from the blurry memories she had of once her life here.

“Sister?”

Ceris looked over at the liberator beside her, and shook herself out of her ruminations. Her sisters were gazing around, taking in the sights (or lack thereof) of this new realm. As far as Ceris knew, she was the only liberator that hailed from the realm of shadows, and as such it was entirely new to them.

As the eternals inspected their surroundings, they heard the familiar whoosh of wings as a bright light appeared in the fog above them. Indrid Daybringer emerged from the veritable soup that surrounded the bridge, the light of her celestial beacon guiding the prosecutors which followed behind her. They landed on the bridge and Ceris noded respectfully to the senior stormcast, which Indrid returned.

“Well” she said, “We have arrived, we've united, and now we just need to figure out where to go. This damnable fog is something that I did not anticipate.” She turned to Ceris, her body language inquisitive. “You came from Ulgu, did you not, sister? Have you any idea where we are?”

The other stormcast of the vanguard wing grew interested at that, and turned to the Liberator Prime. Ceris looked back at her sisters, then turned again to the mists. She had memories of her life before her reforging, but they were faint, blurry, contaminated by the trials she had undergone to become one of Sigmar’s chosen. But, as she concentrated, something started to rise from the twisted soup that was her memories…

Ceris narrowed her eyes as a thought came to her. “Could it...maybe…” she said to herself. And without a further word, she turned and began jogging towards the end of the bridge.

The other stormcast glanced at each other, then moved to follow.

As Ceris got to the end of the bridge, the fog thickened around her. She payed it no mind and turned towards the riverbank. She walked to the edge of the river and went to one knee, before reaching out into the black water. However, she touched only air, as the ‘water’ swirled around her outstretched hand like mist.

Ceris grinned beneath her mask, turning to see that the rest of the wing had gathered behind her, both on the ground and hovering above the heads of the others.

“I know where we are.” She said, and made a wide sweeping gesture towards the mist that surrounded them. “This is the Campestribus, the plains of the lost. and that” she pointed at the river, “Is the Flumen Tenebrarum, the River of Shadows. It originates at the center of the plain, in the Lake of Lost Souls, and flows outwards to the edge of the plain. We can follow it down river and out of the mists.”

The Daybringer nodded in approval, then motioned the prosecutors to take flight. they soon vanished into the mists, and Ceris quickly motioned her liberators after them, and the land bound eternals began jogging downstream.

Martha moved to run beside Ceris, her grandhammer resting on her shoulder as she kept pace with the senior warrior. “So, why is this place called the plains of the lost?” She asked.

“Well,” Ceris said, “Apparently, long before the Age of Chaos, the plains made up an ancient kingdom of men. It was a powerful nation, rich, and with a strong army. It’s capitol was built on an island in the middle of a large lake that fed a trio of rivers. The leaders of the land were great magicians, who were wise and long-lived. However, a long life was not enough for the strongest of them, who was named Seramas. He sought the secrets to eternal life, and to that end sought to converse with the damned souls of the realm of the dead. He opened some kind of portal and unleashed a storm of angry spirits that began to slay everyone in the city. The army fought back, but their weapons passed right through the spirits. All the while, from the portal seeped a magic that created a mist and turned the water of the lake into magical energy. The mist then began to spread slowly across the lands of this old kingdom. The first few villages that the mist reached were set upon by these angry spirits, and after that all fled before the mists. The mist stopped at the border, but for years afterwards cries, moans and screams could be heard from within. Occasionally, treasure seekers and adventurers would venture into the mists, following the rivers back to the lake, and the capital, seeking the riches of the old kingdom. Few returned, and those who did were often mad, raving of faces in the mists, of grasping hands and mournful cries, of friends gone without a trace at the end of a night, or simply dragged screaming into the mist, never to be seen again.”

She looked at Martha, and could tell by her body language that the story had troubled her. “I think I will be glad to be out of this place.” The woman said.

Ceris noded in agreement. “As will I.”

…

After nearly a day of travel, of the Liberators running and teleporting to catch up with the Prosecutors, the mist finally began to thin out. Ceris was glad. She had not seen any evidence of the spirits of the mist, but she was tired of the constant grey surroundings of the plains.

As she thought this, electric blue light flashed around her as one of the prosecutor primes teleported her unit to their location. This had occurred many times over the past day, but this was different. Firstly, they were out of the mist. Ceris looked behind her and saw a wall of grey twenty meters away, Secondly, the prosecutors and Daybringer had landed, and the Azyrios had gathered the primes of the Prosecutor units together. Ceris walked up to the group and waited for one of them to explain. Daybringer looked briefly at the arriving stormcast, then nodded to one of the Prosecutor leaders. “Reina, tell the others what your unit found.”

The woman stepped forward and addressed the group. “We went out to scout out the surrounding area, as ordered by Dame Daybringer, and we’ve found something.”

“What is it?” Asked one of the other prosecutor primes.

“We found a small human village.”

…

A good distance away, a pair of beady eyes gazed at the assembled Sigmarites through a spyglass stolen years ago from some long-dead human. It had never seen creatures like these before, and it’s mind quickly decided that they were worth reporting.

I wonder if the stab-kill master knows what they are? it thought as it slunk into the darkness.

 

[Bowser]

Oh yeah! Just got even better! I am liking this story with each reveal! That twist at the end gives it that perfect tease! More! Now! Haha! I can't wait for the next bit!

 

[spawning of Bob]

It originates at the center of the center of the plain

I can't believe the level of detail you are going into, Kor-Lot-Ko

I am looking forward to when all the new friends finally meet up and... hugs?

 

[Kor-Lot-Ko]

The next instalment is here! No 'hugs' yet Bob, but they're coming soon! Don't worry!
So, enjoy!

...​

From the upper branches of a tree, stalker Stealrek watched as the steel-clad giants made their way towards a human settlement. By his guess, they were just a little bit taller than a regular saurus warrior, and about the same height as a saurus guard. All in all, he thought that their size, combined with their heavy, body-encompassing armor would make them rather difficult to bring down with blowdarts. In addition, he could sense some kind of magical energy emanating from these warriors, similar to the celestial energy that coursed through his veins. But it was a more raw, unrefined version of the magic, unlike the calm starlight used by the Slann.

In any case, his job was not to analyze these newcomers, it was to watch them. To that end, he had changed his scales to a darker shade, a mixture of muted greens, blacks, and greys, to better allow him to blend into the shadowy landscape of this realm. Keeping one eye on the advancing stormcast, his other flicked around to his fellow hunters, concealed on lower branches or in the shadowy underbrush of the forest around them. Like him, their scales had shifted color to match their surroundings, but he was able to see a faint outline of starlight around their bodies that only he could see that revealed their location. It was a gift given to him by his Lord, and had proven useful many times while co-ordinating ambushes and hunts.

Movement in the human settlement drew his full attention back to the warriors.

The gates were beginning to open.

…​

Gutter-runner Wurk Scrabbleclaw scurried through the the passages underneath the plain of the lost. His clawed feet clicked and scrapped as he ran, one paw grasped tightly on his spyglass while the other rested on the hilt of his sword. Occasionally he would see other skaven, from pairs of clanrats on patrol to packs of slaves digging new tunnels. In all cases he kept to the shadows, never revealing himself. It was not just a general distrust of every member of his peer group that caused this, it was an instinct instilled in all members of clan Eshin from a very young age.

Enemy-foes cannot stab-kill what they cannot see.

Wurk shook off these thoughts as he approached his destination. By now he was well within the skaven settlement of Shadow Falls, named on account of the pair of ‘waterfalls’ that came through the ceiling of the main cavern, fed by an offshoot of the River of Shadows.

Wurk was nowhere near these falls at the moment, as he was visiting the well-hidden burow of his master, Assassin-Captain Shythe Neckbreaker, The Shadowcloak, leader of Clan Eshin in this region of Ulgu.

As he approached the burrow, which was located in a dark corner near the ceiling of the main cave of the settlement, a pair of gutter runners appeared from the darkness with swords drawn.

“Ah, Wurk.” One sneered. “So nice-good to see you again. How’s the scouting treating you?”

“Well enough, Qursc.” Wurk hissed back. “How’s life as a glorified butler?”

Qursc snarled at Wurk, while the other let out a chattering laugh at his companion’s anger. Qursc shot the other skaven a dirty look, then turned back to Wurk. “Why are you here? Why do you want interrupt-bother the Captain?” He said.

“I found something on the surface that Neckbreaker will want to know about.” Said Wurk.

“What?”

“Nothing that concerns you. Now, will you let me pass, or will you explain to the captain why he his behind on his information?”

Qursc hissed again, but moved back into the shadows. The other skaven did likewise, and Wurk passed into the hidden tunnel.

That imbecile must be really stupid if he thinks he can intimidate me with that drivel. Wurk thought scornfully. I definitely overestimated the threat he poses. And he is loud as an oruk while he walks. Maybe I’ll put off slitting his throat. The skaven grinned maliciously Probably not.

After a short walk through the passage, Wurk emerged into his master’s den. Shythe’s living space was cleaner than the average skaven’s, with only a couple odd bones scattered about the stone floor. The room had very little in the way of furniture, just a roughly built wooden bed with a straw mattress in one corner, and a wooden rack containing over two dozen assorted short swords, daggers, throwing knives, and Shuriken in another. Of the Assassin himself, there was no sign.

The room was dark as well, with only a single torch beside the door providing illumination. Now, skaven have excellent low-light vision (they need it, seeing as they live primarily underground) but even Wurk’s above-averagevision had could not penetrate the blackness of the far corner of the room. He got an uncomfortable feeling looking at that area, and so glanced around the room for any sign of his commander. As his eyes left the area, he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eyes and whipped his vision back to that spot in time to see the shadows themselves unfurl around the dark, hooded form of the Assassin-Captain.

Wurk quickly lowered his gaze in deference to the larger skaven as some of his fear-musk began to seep from his pores. Wurk was ambitious, and braver than most of his kin, but he would never dream of crossing Shadowcloak. This skaven was at the same time everything that he wanted, and everything he feared.

Shythe’s eyes glowed faintly green as he gazed from beneath his hood at the gutter runner. “What have you to report, Master Scout?” He whispered, in a soft, raspy voice that seemed to slither and crawl it’s way into Wurk’s brain.

The scout shivered under his master’s gaze, then replied “I saw a group of creatures emerge from the Campestribus, master. They looked like man-things in their form, but wore suits of armor the likes of which I have never seen before. It seemed almost like a second skin, the way that they moved. Also, there were some that flew on wings of...light-brightness, master. I have never seen their like before, and thought it merited reporting.”

Shythe stood there for a moment seemingly lost in thought, then growled and snapped his teeth, making Wurk jump. “How many of the bright-things were there?” He snapped.

“A little over twenty, master.”

“Hmm...I will need to discuss this with the Council-leaders.” He looked down at Wurk. “Do not leave the city.”

And with that, he turned and drew the shadows to his body, vanishing without a trace.

…​

“These creatures are unknown.” Said Shadowcloak, who was currently cloaked in shadows, sitting on a throne made from black wood. “I will take a force and see what they can do.” The Assassin looked at a heavily armored skaven that sat in a steel throne. “I’ll need two hundred clanrats.”

“What?!?” The armored skaven screeched. “You have no right to take-steal my warriors for your own glory-gains. You have your nightrunners. Use them!”

Shadowcloak hissed, “I have not the numbers for an attack like this, against an unknown force. You do. Will you oppose me? This is for the good of the city.”

The armoured skaven opened his mouth to respond when the third being in the room raised a hand to silence him. The armoured one closed his mouth as the grey-furred skaven turned his horned head to him.

“Give him the troops Steeltail. You have more than enough clannrats to be able to lose a few hundred. I am curious to see what these new creatures are capable of.” The Grey-seer looked back to Shadowcloak. “Have some Gutter-runners take a few of the new Shortstock Jezzails from the arsenal. If these creatures are as heavily armoured as you say, you’ll need their power. But,” The elder skaven raised a paw, “I want a body, or better yet a live one, brought back here to study. Understood?”

“Of course, Grey Seer.” The Assassin nodded his head to the horned skaven, before shooting a triumphant glare at Steeltail, and vanishing with a soft pop and a flurry of darkness.

 

[Bowser]

Oh yeah! This is going to be big!