Post by admiral on May 29, 2018 18:23:31 GMT
Written by: Miasma
The Kul Champion reached the peak of the mighty mountain, lifting his axe and bladed copper shield to the heavens as he bellowed his victory into the wind and snow that lashed at his muscular frame. Thunder returned his challenge and lightning streaked across the black clouds. He lifted his gaze to the Obsidian Obelisk and dipped his head in reverence, the statue stood 15 feet tall at the highest point of the peak, the snow did not settle at the base of this monument and the air seemed somehow warmer the closer he came. Finally he strode onto the bare rock of the mountain free at last from the snow and ice that had accompanied his climb to the summit.
“I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings answer the Clarion Call of the Gods and seek to claim my prize!" Silence greeted the battle scarred chieftain punctuated only by the moaning of the wind between clefts of rock.
“I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings have defeated the guardians of the peak and seek to claim my prize!" Silence once again greeted the grizzled man, maybe one of the guardians has escaped for mounted upon their ferocious wolves the Hobgoblins where a swift and deadly foe the warrior considered for a moment.
“Your champions are dead or fled, none are left to oppose me, I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings demand my prize” Something changed then, the wind blew stronger and the warmth emanating from the Obelisk seemed to waver for a moment as malignant whispers could be heard on the wind. He steadied himself and axe in each hand ready to receive his gifts, the Obelisk seemed to pulsate and a faint humming could be heard over the winds, the air tasted suddenly like iron and the smell of sulphur assaulted his senses. The whispers grew louder and louder until fragments of words could be heard amidst the wind and mocking laughter that accompanied them.
“Foolish, foolish, foolish” The words echoed as if whispered into a cavern “Foolish Mortal, our Champion is not defeated, he watches you with eyes of fury, born aloft on pinions of leather” The sibilant words were accompanied by more mocking laughter and the wind once again whipped up snow into the face of the Warrior. Raising his shield and testing his axe in his hand he crouched slightly and peering into the blizzard before him, loud laughter followed by a hiss made him spin quickly to face behind him, he just glimpsed a mighty beast flying out of sight and hiding itself from him in the snow.
“Show yourself beast, for I Kul De’Lakk…” His challenge was cut short as a massive bulk crashed into his back knocking the warriors weapon from his heads and sending him sprawling face first into the snow, a giant claw placed itself on his back and he felt himself getting pushed further into the snow, the cold seeping into his bones and face threatening to suffocate him, he could feel the warm breath of the beast on the back of its neck as it brought its face close to the Kurgen.
“Kul De’Lakk” A voice said in a mocking tone, “Chief of the Kul Kurgen, my master will enslave your people, he will hobble your steeds and sacrifice them to Him of fire and destruction, your puny Bloodletting does nothing to appease your masters or mine” Bellowing laughter echoed across the mountain peaks as the Lammasu mocked the warrior pinned under his feet. Lowering his head and opening his tusked maw the Lammasu bit deep into the Kurgen warrior and spreading his wings took to the Skies accompanied by the screaming warrior in his jaws.
The Battle barge and Slave Ship the Black Leviathan steamed through crushing waves and driving wind, the black smoke that billowed from its smoke stacks immediately dissipated in the high winds. As waves crushed against its prow and washed the metallic deck clear of any items that were not securely fastened a single forlorn note sounded from the Hobgoblin Spotter lashes to the tallest point of the mast, their prey had been sighted. Again the Hobgoblin blew the horn announcing the presence of another ship that had decided to brave the waves on this accursed day.
Rockets shrieked over the Sartosan ship, the explosions sending plumes of water high into the air as the crew desperately fought to gain any advantage of speed or manoeuvrability over their attackers and escape the black metal ship. A huge swell battered the ship as another volley of rockets landed ever closer, the water falling steaming from the sky over the crew of the rigging and the human strapped to the ships wheel. Finally a rocket crashed into the ships mast the explosion ripping massive fissures into the sails and sending burning tangles of wood and canvass and living beings crashing to the deck below. Seeing the destruction wrought upon his ship the captain desperately fought to bring some order to his crew forcing the panicked sailors to form units prepared to sell their lives in protection of their cargo and plundered riches.
With a mighty crunch of splintered wood the armoured ram of the Black Leviathan crashed into the smaller craft, through a feat of ingenious engineering the armoured prow lifted up, followed instantly by flames and loud cracks like the maw of some dread sea dragon, sailors died as the shots whittled down their numbers and armoured bodies belched forth onto the deck of the ship, their two handed axes felling men like saplings as they cut a bloodied swath through the defenders.
The Captain was felled by a mighty black handed blow that knocked him crashing back into his cabin door, the armoured gauntlet had taken its toll on his Tilean features, teeth missing and nose and cheekbones smashed. An armoured boot landed on his chest cracking ribs and collarbone another stamped hard on his elbow reaching for his sword. Spitting forth vile curses of his opponent’s birth he was rendered unconscious by a well aimed armoured boot to the temple.
He awoke shackled by his wrists and ankles suspended off the floor of iron beneath him, under his feet water mixed with blood and other bodily fluids sloshed lazily back and forth to the movement of the ship; he could hear screams and cruel laughter echoing down the corridors surrounding him the sounds mixing with the crack of whips and the roar of flames, in despair he gazed about him and saw a giant Lizard larger then a man chained opposite him, the beast’s eyes stared into his and he could feel the violence and predatory instinct of the creature opposite him. Filled with despair his cried joined those of the others in the cursed belly of the metallic beast as the Black Leviathan turned and headed north skirting the coast of Estalia the Hobgoblins restocking the Rockets on its armoured prow preparing for more raids on unfortunates on their way back to Uzkulak.
“Dey sez dat you can’t catch dem ratz, dey sez dere too quikk!” That was Snikrot again he thought as they skulked further into the caverns and tunnels under Uzkulak. If he wasn’t careful he’d give them away and then they’d be smothered in the Ratmen. He spat a glob of phlegm into the dirt and growled through his needle like, sharp pointed teeth
“Shut it Snikrot, ur whinge and wine will give uz away” he gave the Hobgoblin a punch in the shoulder to punctuate his point, the Hobgoblin growled at him and made a move to grab his knife when he stopped suddenly “Boss, summink elz iz down ere” Eyes darted nervously around in the darkness, the near silent sound of blades being pulled free as the Hobgoblins huddled nervously together. “Of course dere’s summink else ere, dats why we iz ere” He was surrounded by fools he decided and stepped forwards further into the darkness. His feet moved deftly over the rubble and spoil of the mining tunnels, moisture crept along the walls and floor, their breath “C’mon yous lot, we gotz Rats to catch”
They heard scuttling sounds and chittering noises as the crept deeper into the darkness, the sounds of rocks falling made the party stop short in their tracks, the sound was behind them, or was it? It was impossible to tell in the darkness where the noises started and what noises were echoes. Taking a deep breath Razgob took a steel and put spark to a nearby torch, the flame slowly took hold and acrid black smoke slowly drifted up the tunnel to the exit where they had come, the torch light illuminated only a small space making the darkness at the edges of his visibility seem much more dark and foreboding. “Ere Snikrot, hold da torch” he thrust the spluttering brazier into the Hobgoblins eager hands and watched as the fool waved the flame around making it roar as it was fed more oxygen. “C’mon Ladz, back up wez go!” They trudged back up the tunnels, holding daggers tightly. Movement and chittering ahead signalled that they had managed to flush some of the vermin out into the main tunnel and the Ratmen were now trapped with the Hobgoblins blocking off their retreat.
Suddenly Snikrot screamed and dropped the torch, glancing down Razgob noticed that a metallic star was protruding from the Hobgoblins throat; interestingly the wound was bubbling and smoking as well as bleeding. “Youz gits get up there and get dat Rat.” He watched as the group of Hobgoblins rushed forwards, smiling to himself he made the signal and heard the sounds of the metallic cage drop from the tunnel roof. Satisfied he turned around and began to whistle as he walked deeper into the tunnels as his lads and the Ratmen fought it out. His face smashed into the cage, “No!” He screamed realising his betrayal “NOOOOOO!” The scraping of the cage and clinking of gears could be heard as the trap slowly enclosed the combatants. Dawi Zharr appeared in the light from the tunnels, slipping nooses over the necks of Hobgoblins and Skaven alike. “Take them alive” a mighty voice boomed over the din, a finger pointed his direction “Especially that one!” Razgob’s heart sank, he knew the Skaven were wanted by a Sorcerer Prophet and he recognised that Sorcerers mark on the Dawi Zharr’s armour; he spat into the dust, drew his daggers and charged into the melee.
Kul De’Lakk awoke, pain flared in him as he regained consciousness. Every part of him hurt, the wound of the Lammasu’s tusk in his side hurt the most sending waves of nausea through him making him retch. He opened his eyes half expecting to see himself miles above the ground, still carried by the leathery pinions of the beast that had captured him. He was alone on a small area of jet black stone that seemed to suck all heat from the air. Slowly, painfully he crawled to the edge of the platform, every inch that he gained sent a shock of pain through him once again as he clamped his hand down hard over the wound. He stopped once to vomit but continued his quest to the edge of the platform. Feeling victorious for completing the small feat he took a deep breath before looking over the edge. The view that greeted him made his heart sink further; he was atop a tower many hundreds of metres above the ground. Every inch to gain this view had felt like he had pulled himself slowly over burning coals and now the Gods had abandoned him on this perch, alone and aloft. He had heard of tales of these places, where nothing grew much like the Tundra that he was raised upon, however they had told him that instead of snow the land was covered in sand, tiny particles of rock that had been worn down by the heat of the sun and the land and the wind. They had said that these tiny rocks could make the land look like a sea and travel mighty distances, he felt ashamed that he had mocked them, those traders who he had robbed and tortured in a sacrifice to the Blood God Khorne, what had they called these places? The word came to him then Desert. He was alone in the middle of a desert of smouldering rock and scorched black sand, the tower that he was stranded upon had sheer sides that offered no hand or foothold, even now he could admire the construction of his prison. He took another deep breath and peered once again over the edge, surrounding the base of the tower on all sides were smaller towers of a bizarre design, although they were huge in comparison to anything that he had seen constructed in his life they were still dwarfed by the tower that he had been abandoned on. Further from the towers base he could see fortifications that were constructed in bizarre angles, the walls were lower then he had expected and thick but it was their pattern that disturbed him. He lay on his back and closed his eyes, imagining the pattern that the walls make from his perch upon this mighty obsidian tower; he had seen this pattern before. It was the Symbol of Eight.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the Beast that had took him, perched upon one of the four parapets that sat at each corner of the tower. It watched him with an expression of interest upon its face, its eyes locked on the Kul Warrior’s. He spat at the beast, the phlegm landing scant inches from his own boot “What is this place?” He said, his voice sounding weak and hoarse, his throat ravaged by thirst and heat and his own screams. The Lammasu regarded him momentarily before laughing dismissively “This is my home mortal, this is Minas Uzkul.” The Beast let his words sink in before it continued “To the North, past the Skull Road, past High Pass, across those distant peaks and through the gates of Uzkulak is the land of your forefather from whence you have been taken. To the West is the Lands of Dwarfs, Men and Elf. To the South is Zharr Naggrund, The Blasted Wastes and The Plain of Bones. To the East is a land of Ogres and Mountains and other Beasts that live in their lofty towers” The Lammasu fell silent once again and stared at the Kul Warrior Chief. “You are in the Lands of the Dawi Zharr, those who worship Hashut in all his Dark Glory, some call them the Chaos Dwarf., I see by your reaction that you know of what they are and what will become of you?” The Kul Warrior nodded his head and once again winced in pain. “Is there no hope of escape?” He knew the answer before he had asked the Question, but he needed to keep the Beast occupied to regain his senses and gain time to think, bellowing laughter mocked him once again as the Beast heard his plea. Stretching his Leathery wings the Lammasu took to the air, hovering in front of the Kul Warrior blowing hot and acrid air into his face with each beat of his mighty wings. “There is always hope mortal, it is what feeds the furnaces of the Dawi Zharr before Hope is snuffed out to be replaced by Terror” Still Laughing the beast flew higher and higher in tighter and tighter circles until it was just a tiny black speck in the dusk sky.
The Night was far worse than the day Kul De’Lakk decided as freezing wind battered him on his exposed position, he could see the lights of braziers below him and camp fires scattered across the plains, far to the South he saw a sight that made his blood freeze quicker then the biting wind had managed, it looked as if the entire horizon was on fire. It took him a while to find the words but this must be the Zharr Naggrund that the Beast had mocked him with, it must be like the mighty towns of the Lands of The Empire and Kislev. A City. A City of Fire. He wrapped his tattered cape tightly around him and settled back against one of the parapets to gain what little shelter he could from the wind. He closed his eyes and battled the cold and the pain for sleep.
Niccolo T’Asta awoke in the same situation that he had passed out, shackled by wrist and by ankle, suspended painfully over the pool of filth underneath him, a disgusting parody of the waves that rocked the ship’s hold that held him. His ankles and wrists were bleeding where the cruel iron was cutting into his flesh from his weight and his vain attempts of struggle from his current situation and the vicious attentions of the gaolers that goaded him. The Hobgoblin’s were bad enough, taking perverse glee in watching him try and squirm away from the points of their blades, making bets about which blade would inflict the most pain. The one that truly terrified him was a Dwarf unlike any he had seen before. Horns protruded from the temples and tusks stood atop its braided beard, it had simply stood their studying him. An unmoving statue amongst the roiling sea of filth that lapped and crashed around its shins with the rolling of the ship. It held a black metal club in one hand a long iron girder with points and teeth along one side, he was in no doubt that this was designed not only to break and brain but also to rip and tear a tool to inflict a sickening amount of pain on the wielders behalf. He had heard tales of these depraved fiends, The Dwarfs of Fire, Chaos Dwarfs, The Dawi Zharr.
He took his first few steps after what felt like years in the hold, the bright sun burning his eyes, that had become accustomed to the gloom, over the course of his imprisonment numerous other had been driven into the hold, their screams echoing through the belly of the metallic behemoth. He and a few of the others had been fed, at first he had refused the food but after days of hunger he had finally succumbed and devoured the meat that was presented to him by the Hobgoblins, ignoring their cackling, mockery and jeers. Deep down he had known that the flesh he had consumed was most likely another captive that had perished at the cruel hands of its capturers. The wind was freezing and ice and snow was everywhere, pain lanced up his shins as the wounds caused by his shackles were engulfed in snow. Before him in the bowls of the mountain was carved a mighty fortified gate, he could spy cannons and other ballistics on the fortified ramparts, he turned his head and took in the port that he was now standing within. It was almost entirely encapsulated by thick high walls, punctuated at regular points by more ballistics. Any attempts at sieging this port would result in horrific losses on the attacking side.
A baleful sounding horn sounded over the port, breaking the monotonous tones of the engines of the ships. He turned to face where the sound had come from and was brought to his knee’s by a vicious kick to his injured ankle “Kneel before your betters scum” The voice belonged to the Chaos Dwarf gaoler “You are to meet one of the Blessed of Hashut, Ak’Klann the Vile, show your respect.” The Dwarf kicked the kneeling sailor hard in the ribs, forcing him down onto his hands in a vain attempt to gain his breath.
A Dwarf with an aura of arrogance and power approached the slaves, forced into a position of subjugation by the boots, fists and tools of the gaolers. He walked the lines of slaves pointing to particular captives who were pulled to their feet and roughly bundled into a mighty wheeled cage to be shackled suspended as he was upon the Slave Ship “The Black Leviathan” He knew its name now, for his captors had boasted about its prowess when they visited him and mocked his “pathetic” attempts at piracy. The Dwarf stood in front of him and he saw a shadow fall across his form, thick hands took him and led him away to become shackled once again by wrist and ankle, his screams accompanied by the laughter of Hobgoblin and Dawi Zharr alike.
The Black Lammasu
The Kul Champion reached the peak of the mighty mountain, lifting his axe and bladed copper shield to the heavens as he bellowed his victory into the wind and snow that lashed at his muscular frame. Thunder returned his challenge and lightning streaked across the black clouds. He lifted his gaze to the Obsidian Obelisk and dipped his head in reverence, the statue stood 15 feet tall at the highest point of the peak, the snow did not settle at the base of this monument and the air seemed somehow warmer the closer he came. Finally he strode onto the bare rock of the mountain free at last from the snow and ice that had accompanied his climb to the summit.
“I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings answer the Clarion Call of the Gods and seek to claim my prize!" Silence greeted the battle scarred chieftain punctuated only by the moaning of the wind between clefts of rock.
“I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings have defeated the guardians of the peak and seek to claim my prize!" Silence once again greeted the grizzled man, maybe one of the guardians has escaped for mounted upon their ferocious wolves the Hobgoblins where a swift and deadly foe the warrior considered for a moment.
“Your champions are dead or fled, none are left to oppose me, I, Kul De’Lakk, Chief of the Kul Kurgen, Champion of the Steed, and Bloodletter of the Baersonlings demand my prize” Something changed then, the wind blew stronger and the warmth emanating from the Obelisk seemed to waver for a moment as malignant whispers could be heard on the wind. He steadied himself and axe in each hand ready to receive his gifts, the Obelisk seemed to pulsate and a faint humming could be heard over the winds, the air tasted suddenly like iron and the smell of sulphur assaulted his senses. The whispers grew louder and louder until fragments of words could be heard amidst the wind and mocking laughter that accompanied them.
“Foolish, foolish, foolish” The words echoed as if whispered into a cavern “Foolish Mortal, our Champion is not defeated, he watches you with eyes of fury, born aloft on pinions of leather” The sibilant words were accompanied by more mocking laughter and the wind once again whipped up snow into the face of the Warrior. Raising his shield and testing his axe in his hand he crouched slightly and peering into the blizzard before him, loud laughter followed by a hiss made him spin quickly to face behind him, he just glimpsed a mighty beast flying out of sight and hiding itself from him in the snow.
“Show yourself beast, for I Kul De’Lakk…” His challenge was cut short as a massive bulk crashed into his back knocking the warriors weapon from his heads and sending him sprawling face first into the snow, a giant claw placed itself on his back and he felt himself getting pushed further into the snow, the cold seeping into his bones and face threatening to suffocate him, he could feel the warm breath of the beast on the back of its neck as it brought its face close to the Kurgen.
“Kul De’Lakk” A voice said in a mocking tone, “Chief of the Kul Kurgen, my master will enslave your people, he will hobble your steeds and sacrifice them to Him of fire and destruction, your puny Bloodletting does nothing to appease your masters or mine” Bellowing laughter echoed across the mountain peaks as the Lammasu mocked the warrior pinned under his feet. Lowering his head and opening his tusked maw the Lammasu bit deep into the Kurgen warrior and spreading his wings took to the Skies accompanied by the screaming warrior in his jaws.
* * *
The Battle barge and Slave Ship the Black Leviathan steamed through crushing waves and driving wind, the black smoke that billowed from its smoke stacks immediately dissipated in the high winds. As waves crushed against its prow and washed the metallic deck clear of any items that were not securely fastened a single forlorn note sounded from the Hobgoblin Spotter lashes to the tallest point of the mast, their prey had been sighted. Again the Hobgoblin blew the horn announcing the presence of another ship that had decided to brave the waves on this accursed day.
Rockets shrieked over the Sartosan ship, the explosions sending plumes of water high into the air as the crew desperately fought to gain any advantage of speed or manoeuvrability over their attackers and escape the black metal ship. A huge swell battered the ship as another volley of rockets landed ever closer, the water falling steaming from the sky over the crew of the rigging and the human strapped to the ships wheel. Finally a rocket crashed into the ships mast the explosion ripping massive fissures into the sails and sending burning tangles of wood and canvass and living beings crashing to the deck below. Seeing the destruction wrought upon his ship the captain desperately fought to bring some order to his crew forcing the panicked sailors to form units prepared to sell their lives in protection of their cargo and plundered riches.
With a mighty crunch of splintered wood the armoured ram of the Black Leviathan crashed into the smaller craft, through a feat of ingenious engineering the armoured prow lifted up, followed instantly by flames and loud cracks like the maw of some dread sea dragon, sailors died as the shots whittled down their numbers and armoured bodies belched forth onto the deck of the ship, their two handed axes felling men like saplings as they cut a bloodied swath through the defenders.
The Captain was felled by a mighty black handed blow that knocked him crashing back into his cabin door, the armoured gauntlet had taken its toll on his Tilean features, teeth missing and nose and cheekbones smashed. An armoured boot landed on his chest cracking ribs and collarbone another stamped hard on his elbow reaching for his sword. Spitting forth vile curses of his opponent’s birth he was rendered unconscious by a well aimed armoured boot to the temple.
He awoke shackled by his wrists and ankles suspended off the floor of iron beneath him, under his feet water mixed with blood and other bodily fluids sloshed lazily back and forth to the movement of the ship; he could hear screams and cruel laughter echoing down the corridors surrounding him the sounds mixing with the crack of whips and the roar of flames, in despair he gazed about him and saw a giant Lizard larger then a man chained opposite him, the beast’s eyes stared into his and he could feel the violence and predatory instinct of the creature opposite him. Filled with despair his cried joined those of the others in the cursed belly of the metallic beast as the Black Leviathan turned and headed north skirting the coast of Estalia the Hobgoblins restocking the Rockets on its armoured prow preparing for more raids on unfortunates on their way back to Uzkulak.
* * *
“Dey sez dat you can’t catch dem ratz, dey sez dere too quikk!” That was Snikrot again he thought as they skulked further into the caverns and tunnels under Uzkulak. If he wasn’t careful he’d give them away and then they’d be smothered in the Ratmen. He spat a glob of phlegm into the dirt and growled through his needle like, sharp pointed teeth
“Shut it Snikrot, ur whinge and wine will give uz away” he gave the Hobgoblin a punch in the shoulder to punctuate his point, the Hobgoblin growled at him and made a move to grab his knife when he stopped suddenly “Boss, summink elz iz down ere” Eyes darted nervously around in the darkness, the near silent sound of blades being pulled free as the Hobgoblins huddled nervously together. “Of course dere’s summink else ere, dats why we iz ere” He was surrounded by fools he decided and stepped forwards further into the darkness. His feet moved deftly over the rubble and spoil of the mining tunnels, moisture crept along the walls and floor, their breath “C’mon yous lot, we gotz Rats to catch”
They heard scuttling sounds and chittering noises as the crept deeper into the darkness, the sounds of rocks falling made the party stop short in their tracks, the sound was behind them, or was it? It was impossible to tell in the darkness where the noises started and what noises were echoes. Taking a deep breath Razgob took a steel and put spark to a nearby torch, the flame slowly took hold and acrid black smoke slowly drifted up the tunnel to the exit where they had come, the torch light illuminated only a small space making the darkness at the edges of his visibility seem much more dark and foreboding. “Ere Snikrot, hold da torch” he thrust the spluttering brazier into the Hobgoblins eager hands and watched as the fool waved the flame around making it roar as it was fed more oxygen. “C’mon Ladz, back up wez go!” They trudged back up the tunnels, holding daggers tightly. Movement and chittering ahead signalled that they had managed to flush some of the vermin out into the main tunnel and the Ratmen were now trapped with the Hobgoblins blocking off their retreat.
Suddenly Snikrot screamed and dropped the torch, glancing down Razgob noticed that a metallic star was protruding from the Hobgoblins throat; interestingly the wound was bubbling and smoking as well as bleeding. “Youz gits get up there and get dat Rat.” He watched as the group of Hobgoblins rushed forwards, smiling to himself he made the signal and heard the sounds of the metallic cage drop from the tunnel roof. Satisfied he turned around and began to whistle as he walked deeper into the tunnels as his lads and the Ratmen fought it out. His face smashed into the cage, “No!” He screamed realising his betrayal “NOOOOOO!” The scraping of the cage and clinking of gears could be heard as the trap slowly enclosed the combatants. Dawi Zharr appeared in the light from the tunnels, slipping nooses over the necks of Hobgoblins and Skaven alike. “Take them alive” a mighty voice boomed over the din, a finger pointed his direction “Especially that one!” Razgob’s heart sank, he knew the Skaven were wanted by a Sorcerer Prophet and he recognised that Sorcerers mark on the Dawi Zharr’s armour; he spat into the dust, drew his daggers and charged into the melee.
* * *
Kul De’Lakk awoke, pain flared in him as he regained consciousness. Every part of him hurt, the wound of the Lammasu’s tusk in his side hurt the most sending waves of nausea through him making him retch. He opened his eyes half expecting to see himself miles above the ground, still carried by the leathery pinions of the beast that had captured him. He was alone on a small area of jet black stone that seemed to suck all heat from the air. Slowly, painfully he crawled to the edge of the platform, every inch that he gained sent a shock of pain through him once again as he clamped his hand down hard over the wound. He stopped once to vomit but continued his quest to the edge of the platform. Feeling victorious for completing the small feat he took a deep breath before looking over the edge. The view that greeted him made his heart sink further; he was atop a tower many hundreds of metres above the ground. Every inch to gain this view had felt like he had pulled himself slowly over burning coals and now the Gods had abandoned him on this perch, alone and aloft. He had heard of tales of these places, where nothing grew much like the Tundra that he was raised upon, however they had told him that instead of snow the land was covered in sand, tiny particles of rock that had been worn down by the heat of the sun and the land and the wind. They had said that these tiny rocks could make the land look like a sea and travel mighty distances, he felt ashamed that he had mocked them, those traders who he had robbed and tortured in a sacrifice to the Blood God Khorne, what had they called these places? The word came to him then Desert. He was alone in the middle of a desert of smouldering rock and scorched black sand, the tower that he was stranded upon had sheer sides that offered no hand or foothold, even now he could admire the construction of his prison. He took another deep breath and peered once again over the edge, surrounding the base of the tower on all sides were smaller towers of a bizarre design, although they were huge in comparison to anything that he had seen constructed in his life they were still dwarfed by the tower that he had been abandoned on. Further from the towers base he could see fortifications that were constructed in bizarre angles, the walls were lower then he had expected and thick but it was their pattern that disturbed him. He lay on his back and closed his eyes, imagining the pattern that the walls make from his perch upon this mighty obsidian tower; he had seen this pattern before. It was the Symbol of Eight.
When he opened his eyes, he saw the Beast that had took him, perched upon one of the four parapets that sat at each corner of the tower. It watched him with an expression of interest upon its face, its eyes locked on the Kul Warrior’s. He spat at the beast, the phlegm landing scant inches from his own boot “What is this place?” He said, his voice sounding weak and hoarse, his throat ravaged by thirst and heat and his own screams. The Lammasu regarded him momentarily before laughing dismissively “This is my home mortal, this is Minas Uzkul.” The Beast let his words sink in before it continued “To the North, past the Skull Road, past High Pass, across those distant peaks and through the gates of Uzkulak is the land of your forefather from whence you have been taken. To the West is the Lands of Dwarfs, Men and Elf. To the South is Zharr Naggrund, The Blasted Wastes and The Plain of Bones. To the East is a land of Ogres and Mountains and other Beasts that live in their lofty towers” The Lammasu fell silent once again and stared at the Kul Warrior Chief. “You are in the Lands of the Dawi Zharr, those who worship Hashut in all his Dark Glory, some call them the Chaos Dwarf., I see by your reaction that you know of what they are and what will become of you?” The Kul Warrior nodded his head and once again winced in pain. “Is there no hope of escape?” He knew the answer before he had asked the Question, but he needed to keep the Beast occupied to regain his senses and gain time to think, bellowing laughter mocked him once again as the Beast heard his plea. Stretching his Leathery wings the Lammasu took to the air, hovering in front of the Kul Warrior blowing hot and acrid air into his face with each beat of his mighty wings. “There is always hope mortal, it is what feeds the furnaces of the Dawi Zharr before Hope is snuffed out to be replaced by Terror” Still Laughing the beast flew higher and higher in tighter and tighter circles until it was just a tiny black speck in the dusk sky.
The Night was far worse than the day Kul De’Lakk decided as freezing wind battered him on his exposed position, he could see the lights of braziers below him and camp fires scattered across the plains, far to the South he saw a sight that made his blood freeze quicker then the biting wind had managed, it looked as if the entire horizon was on fire. It took him a while to find the words but this must be the Zharr Naggrund that the Beast had mocked him with, it must be like the mighty towns of the Lands of The Empire and Kislev. A City. A City of Fire. He wrapped his tattered cape tightly around him and settled back against one of the parapets to gain what little shelter he could from the wind. He closed his eyes and battled the cold and the pain for sleep.
* * *
Niccolo T’Asta awoke in the same situation that he had passed out, shackled by wrist and by ankle, suspended painfully over the pool of filth underneath him, a disgusting parody of the waves that rocked the ship’s hold that held him. His ankles and wrists were bleeding where the cruel iron was cutting into his flesh from his weight and his vain attempts of struggle from his current situation and the vicious attentions of the gaolers that goaded him. The Hobgoblin’s were bad enough, taking perverse glee in watching him try and squirm away from the points of their blades, making bets about which blade would inflict the most pain. The one that truly terrified him was a Dwarf unlike any he had seen before. Horns protruded from the temples and tusks stood atop its braided beard, it had simply stood their studying him. An unmoving statue amongst the roiling sea of filth that lapped and crashed around its shins with the rolling of the ship. It held a black metal club in one hand a long iron girder with points and teeth along one side, he was in no doubt that this was designed not only to break and brain but also to rip and tear a tool to inflict a sickening amount of pain on the wielders behalf. He had heard tales of these depraved fiends, The Dwarfs of Fire, Chaos Dwarfs, The Dawi Zharr.
He took his first few steps after what felt like years in the hold, the bright sun burning his eyes, that had become accustomed to the gloom, over the course of his imprisonment numerous other had been driven into the hold, their screams echoing through the belly of the metallic behemoth. He and a few of the others had been fed, at first he had refused the food but after days of hunger he had finally succumbed and devoured the meat that was presented to him by the Hobgoblins, ignoring their cackling, mockery and jeers. Deep down he had known that the flesh he had consumed was most likely another captive that had perished at the cruel hands of its capturers. The wind was freezing and ice and snow was everywhere, pain lanced up his shins as the wounds caused by his shackles were engulfed in snow. Before him in the bowls of the mountain was carved a mighty fortified gate, he could spy cannons and other ballistics on the fortified ramparts, he turned his head and took in the port that he was now standing within. It was almost entirely encapsulated by thick high walls, punctuated at regular points by more ballistics. Any attempts at sieging this port would result in horrific losses on the attacking side.
A baleful sounding horn sounded over the port, breaking the monotonous tones of the engines of the ships. He turned to face where the sound had come from and was brought to his knee’s by a vicious kick to his injured ankle “Kneel before your betters scum” The voice belonged to the Chaos Dwarf gaoler “You are to meet one of the Blessed of Hashut, Ak’Klann the Vile, show your respect.” The Dwarf kicked the kneeling sailor hard in the ribs, forcing him down onto his hands in a vain attempt to gain his breath.
A Dwarf with an aura of arrogance and power approached the slaves, forced into a position of subjugation by the boots, fists and tools of the gaolers. He walked the lines of slaves pointing to particular captives who were pulled to their feet and roughly bundled into a mighty wheeled cage to be shackled suspended as he was upon the Slave Ship “The Black Leviathan” He knew its name now, for his captors had boasted about its prowess when they visited him and mocked his “pathetic” attempts at piracy. The Dwarf stood in front of him and he saw a shadow fall across his form, thick hands took him and led him away to become shackled once again by wrist and ankle, his screams accompanied by the laughter of Hobgoblin and Dawi Zharr alike.