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The rain fell down from the dark and comfortless sky. Ulrich “Coachman” Otarn cursed an unknown amount of gods as he emptied his boots for the third time that morning. Yeah, they held water all right. Once it got in, there was no way it would get out again. He grumbled to himself swearing an oath, as of what to do if he ever found that merchant, who sold him the boots, again. “It’s all because of that elf chick” he thought, the rain hammering on his uncovered head, “and that damn outrider, dragging me into all this.” Ulrich was from Nordland. He was tall and bulky, with red hair and a beard of the same colour. He had just entered his thirties, but looked older, partly because of the beard, but also due to his broken nose (too many bar room brawls) and the scar over his left eye. His right eye was green, the left a yellowish white. He had had a clap over it once, but it fell off and he hadn’t bothered to buy a new one. He spotted a rabbit and lifted his blunderbuss, with the inscription “Olde Adri” on it in crude letters. The sound of the shot echoed through the forest and the rabbit was lying dead in the mud. As he went towards it, he slipped and fell face down into the mud himself. “By Ulrik and Sigmar and the thrice damned chaos gods!” He yelled, dragging himself to his feet, spluttering mud as he did so. “One should have thought one would have become used to the damn rain, living my whole rotten life in the forest.” He said to himself “but no, I hate it just as much, as any commoner!” Thus invigorated by his own grumbling he took the rabbit and headed back for the camp. He swore, again, that if the elf lady complained about the breakfast just once more, as she had done for the past week, he would shove the rabbit up some private part in her delicate body. He and the outrider had worked together for some three years now, but he didn’t actually know much about him. One thing he knew, though, was that if in some way there was a job he didn’t want to take, the outrider was sure to lure him into it anyway. Thus also with this elf. Well, the payment was good, and he could use the money sure as sure, but the arrogance of the elf and her constant babbling about her “important mission” was getting on his nerves. But it wouldn’t be long before they were out of the forest and their job of escorting her would be over, but still… That Outrider had a lot to answer for. He walked through some bushes, obviously scratching himself on some thorns, thanks to the innumerably times cursed gods of luck and faith, and shaking his fist in threat and cursing the grey sky, he walked into the camp.
Mormacar gripped the crossbow at his side and aimed it at the tree line in front of them. Something big was moving in the forest and it was making a hell of noise. Suddenly the barking coachman stepped out from the trees and glared at Mormacar. Mormacar shook his head and laughed at the looks of Ulrich. “Great Sigmar, what has happened to you?” he asked. “It’s those damned boots, the rain and the curses of that hedge wizard that is playing tricks with me!” He snapped. Mormacar noticed the rabbit that Ulrich had killed and hurried at Ulrich to get over to the fire so that they could get something to eat. While Ulrich scraped off mud from his boots, Mormacar took a look at his own clothes. The old leather west was shredded due to the rough walk towards the top of mount Linorshk. His boots were in good shape and his beloved coat the same. The rest of his clothes were a mix of his own clothes from his former life as an outrider in the army of Count Gartelbach and the patches of cloth that he had scavenged from various sources. He looked at his sword at his side. He checked if the edge was still sharp and the blade clean. There was a deep notch here and there, because of the many fights against the bandits of the countryside. He put down his sword again and removed some hairs from his face. He had dark, wavy hair which reached his shoulders. On top of that, he wore a broad leather hat with a silver symbol attached to the front. The symbol was that of a goddess of protection and travellers. He had murky, blue eyes which were probably the only clean areas of his body which were not covered in soot from the many campfires or mud from the very land they were crossing. Suddenly Mormacar got hit by something warm and wet in the centre of his face. He picked up the rabbit that Ulrich had thrown at him; “Why in the name of Vallaya did you do that?!” He barked. “You weren’t listening you idiot! My knife is gone. You have to prepare the animal for cooking.” Ulrich yelled at him. The Elf was sitting in her raised tent sipping something hot and steamy from a cup, ignoring the whole scene. “Hey, don’t drink too much of that woman! We are gonna prepare this nice rabbit for dinner and we don’t want you to be full before we begin eating.” Mormacar said to the elf woman. “I do not consume rabbits when I am travelling in the company of strangers”. She replied a very monotone way. “Besides, that small animal has barely got enough meat for one person…” she continued. Mormacar looked in the direction of Ulrich, worried that he might do something stupid. He had withstood her constant complaining about everything, ever since they left Altdorf. Ulrich looked like he was going to snap. Mormacar couldn’t say he blamed him for getting annoyed and mad, since all she had been doing was complaining and telling them what to do. Ulrich raised a fist in anger, but the elf either didn’t notice it or she didn’t care. As he was about to jump on her, Mormacar yelled that the rabbit was ready for cooking, which was Ulrich’s job. “Hey old chap! If she doesn’t want any of the meat, then there’s more for the two of us. We might even stop our stomachs from being noisy.” Mormacar said. Ulrich didn’t react. He just moved closer to the elf woman, while clenching his fist ever tighter, with every step towards her.
“Remember the money Ulrich!” Yelled Mormacar, “Oh yeah?! I’m not sure they’re even worth this treatment!” snapped Ulrich angrily.
Nevertheless he turned around, and walked towards the fire, to start his cooking. Like some sort of mantra, he repeated “the money, the money” over and over again inside his head, but all he got from it was a thousand and one ways to kill the elf. And that was just by strangulation. He had endured much during his travels, fought many battles (he liked to think of them as such, although he had never participated in anything bigger than a small skirmish), lost many loved ones and gained a few enemies, and in some remote place of the empire, there was even a price on his head. But that elf was the first thing that had ever tested his patience to that extent. Grinning to himself he muttered “well, maybe except for Mormacar.” “Sorry, what was that again?” Mormacar said, turning his attention from the silver symbol on his hat. “I didn’t hear you there mate.” Ulrich thought about hitting him with the rabbit for always being so tidy with that damn badge, but there was no need to be uncivilised. And his stomach was complaining loudly. “Remind me again why we’re doing this? ‘Cause I swear by Sigmar that if it’s not over soon I’ll find something very heavy and unpleasant and...” “Stop” Mormacar interrupted him, seemingly already having an idea where Ulrich was heading. “We do it for the money, forty gold crowns remember? Besides, we’re close to the destination point.” “Which is?” Ulrich silently muttered a small curse, as he hated to sound stupid, especially in front of the outrider, but he simply couldn’t remember its name.” “Oh for the love of Shallya” Mormacar said, turning his gaze towards the sky, quickly turning it down again as a particularly huge and vicious drop of rain attacked his right eye. Ulrich laughed, immediately brought to better mood by the frisky attacker, thanking some minor goddess for granting him a little justice. Blushing, Mormacar continued. “We have to transport the fairy safely from Altdorf to Reichstadt.” Ulrich scratched his head. He had been in many places, yet he had never heard of that town, but the outrider knew about it, and more importantly, he knew how to get there. He hated to give the outrider credit, tended to get to his head, but he had a good memory for places and people. “We’ll be there tomorrow morning” Mormacar ended his conclusion. “Fine, cooking’s done too” Ulrich said, re-cursing the fickle gods of luck as he burned his hand for the first, but undoubtedly not last time that day, whilst taking the rabbit off the plate. “Okay “milady” dinners on the table!” he shouted at the elf. “I see no table” she said in her annoyingly monotone, yet melodious voice. He could strangle her.
Mormacar got up and went to the other side of their make-quick camp and produced three plates and three mugs from his backpack. The mugs were made from wurm bone, with mythical creatures engraved in silver on the sides. The plates were ordinary plates of some kind of wood that he had bought the last time they passed through a town. He went back to the others and handed each one of them a set. Ulrich gripped the mug and filled it with ale from a flask that he was always carrying and then he removed the rabbit from the fire. He took a knife and started to part the meat from the bones. When he was done preparing the meat, he shared the meat with his companions. Mormacar examined his meat thoroughly before starting to eat, because he knew that Ulrich always forgot to remove the bullets from the meat. He wasn’t the unlucky one this time, it seemed. He took a bite of the rabbit meat. It was very hot, but actually quite tasty. Something, he hadn’t experienced for quite a while now. He quickly finished his meal and turned his attention to the elf. She hadn’t even touched the meat yet and had, seemingly, spend all her time examining the mug he had handed her. “Something’s wrong?” He asked. She didn’t answer. “I got that a long time ago when I was on campaign with the count, in the north. I tracked down the wurm after it had attacked our rearguard. The count had given me the command of a unit of pistoliers… unruly soldiers, I tell you! But we got the job done, nevertheless. It had apparently hit a tree and broke a wing, so it could not fly away from us. It had crashed down into a clearing in the forest, surrounded by big, strong oak trees. It could not get away, so we sneaked close to it, having left our horses a mile back, and got up behind it. It didn’t notice us, or so we though, so we readied our firearms and took aim, but as soon as the first pistolier came too close to the clearing, we found out that we had been terribly wrong. The wurm swung around and its jaws snapped the unlucky pistolier in half. The other men fired their guns and send it reeling. I finished the job by firing a poisoned bolt through its right eye and into the brain…” He stopped, noticing that the elf didn’t listen at all. “What’s so interesting about the mug?!” he barked, now very annoyed, “Nothing…” She answered in her melodious tone. Suddenly he felt an urge to slam her in the face with a clenched fist, but he held back. She turned her attention to him, “is something wrong?” she asked. “No, it’s nothing…” He murmured. It was far from the truth as he had never been ignored as much as he had just been, not by any girl. It was frustrating, to say the least, and he would have abandoned her here and now, if it hadn’t been for the money. He just hoped to be able to get the wench to her destination as soon as possible, so that he would get rid of her. Ulrich was watching the scene from the other side of the bonfire and was, to Mormacar’s annoyance, clearly amused by the situation. Mormacar send him a vicious glare that shut up his snickering instantly. Ulrich blushed and turned his attention to his ale and the meat.
Mormacar gripped the crossbow at his side and aimed it at the tree line in front of them. Something big was moving in the forest and it was making a hell of noise. Suddenly the barking coachman stepped out from the trees and glared at Mormacar. Mormacar shook his head and laughed at the looks of Ulrich. “Great Sigmar, what has happened to you?” he asked. “It’s those damned boots, the rain and the curses of that hedge wizard that is playing tricks with me!” He snapped. Mormacar noticed the rabbit that Ulrich had killed and hurried at Ulrich to get over to the fire so that they could get something to eat. While Ulrich scraped off mud from his boots, Mormacar took a look at his own clothes. The old leather west was shredded due to the rough walk towards the top of mount Linorshk. His boots were in good shape and his beloved coat the same. The rest of his clothes were a mix of his own clothes from his former life as an outrider in the army of Count Gartelbach and the patches of cloth that he had scavenged from various sources. He looked at his sword at his side. He checked if the edge was still sharp and the blade clean. There was a deep notch here and there, because of the many fights against the bandits of the countryside. He put down his sword again and removed some hairs from his face. He had dark, wavy hair which reached his shoulders. On top of that, he wore a broad leather hat with a silver symbol attached to the front. The symbol was that of a goddess of protection and travellers. He had murky, blue eyes which were probably the only clean areas of his body which were not covered in soot from the many campfires or mud from the very land they were crossing. Suddenly Mormacar got hit by something warm and wet in the centre of his face. He picked up the rabbit that Ulrich had thrown at him; “Why in the name of Vallaya did you do that?!” He barked. “You weren’t listening you idiot! My knife is gone. You have to prepare the animal for cooking.” Ulrich yelled at him. The Elf was sitting in her raised tent sipping something hot and steamy from a cup, ignoring the whole scene. “Hey, don’t drink too much of that woman! We are gonna prepare this nice rabbit for dinner and we don’t want you to be full before we begin eating.” Mormacar said to the elf woman. “I do not consume rabbits when I am travelling in the company of strangers”. She replied a very monotone way. “Besides, that small animal has barely got enough meat for one person…” she continued. Mormacar looked in the direction of Ulrich, worried that he might do something stupid. He had withstood her constant complaining about everything, ever since they left Altdorf. Ulrich looked like he was going to snap. Mormacar couldn’t say he blamed him for getting annoyed and mad, since all she had been doing was complaining and telling them what to do. Ulrich raised a fist in anger, but the elf either didn’t notice it or she didn’t care. As he was about to jump on her, Mormacar yelled that the rabbit was ready for cooking, which was Ulrich’s job. “Hey old chap! If she doesn’t want any of the meat, then there’s more for the two of us. We might even stop our stomachs from being noisy.” Mormacar said. Ulrich didn’t react. He just moved closer to the elf woman, while clenching his fist ever tighter, with every step towards her.
“Remember the money Ulrich!” Yelled Mormacar, “Oh yeah?! I’m not sure they’re even worth this treatment!” snapped Ulrich angrily.
Nevertheless he turned around, and walked towards the fire, to start his cooking. Like some sort of mantra, he repeated “the money, the money” over and over again inside his head, but all he got from it was a thousand and one ways to kill the elf. And that was just by strangulation. He had endured much during his travels, fought many battles (he liked to think of them as such, although he had never participated in anything bigger than a small skirmish), lost many loved ones and gained a few enemies, and in some remote place of the empire, there was even a price on his head. But that elf was the first thing that had ever tested his patience to that extent. Grinning to himself he muttered “well, maybe except for Mormacar.” “Sorry, what was that again?” Mormacar said, turning his attention from the silver symbol on his hat. “I didn’t hear you there mate.” Ulrich thought about hitting him with the rabbit for always being so tidy with that damn badge, but there was no need to be uncivilised. And his stomach was complaining loudly. “Remind me again why we’re doing this? ‘Cause I swear by Sigmar that if it’s not over soon I’ll find something very heavy and unpleasant and...” “Stop” Mormacar interrupted him, seemingly already having an idea where Ulrich was heading. “We do it for the money, forty gold crowns remember? Besides, we’re close to the destination point.” “Which is?” Ulrich silently muttered a small curse, as he hated to sound stupid, especially in front of the outrider, but he simply couldn’t remember its name.” “Oh for the love of Shallya” Mormacar said, turning his gaze towards the sky, quickly turning it down again as a particularly huge and vicious drop of rain attacked his right eye. Ulrich laughed, immediately brought to better mood by the frisky attacker, thanking some minor goddess for granting him a little justice. Blushing, Mormacar continued. “We have to transport the fairy safely from Altdorf to Reichstadt.” Ulrich scratched his head. He had been in many places, yet he had never heard of that town, but the outrider knew about it, and more importantly, he knew how to get there. He hated to give the outrider credit, tended to get to his head, but he had a good memory for places and people. “We’ll be there tomorrow morning” Mormacar ended his conclusion. “Fine, cooking’s done too” Ulrich said, re-cursing the fickle gods of luck as he burned his hand for the first, but undoubtedly not last time that day, whilst taking the rabbit off the plate. “Okay “milady” dinners on the table!” he shouted at the elf. “I see no table” she said in her annoyingly monotone, yet melodious voice. He could strangle her.
Mormacar got up and went to the other side of their make-quick camp and produced three plates and three mugs from his backpack. The mugs were made from wurm bone, with mythical creatures engraved in silver on the sides. The plates were ordinary plates of some kind of wood that he had bought the last time they passed through a town. He went back to the others and handed each one of them a set. Ulrich gripped the mug and filled it with ale from a flask that he was always carrying and then he removed the rabbit from the fire. He took a knife and started to part the meat from the bones. When he was done preparing the meat, he shared the meat with his companions. Mormacar examined his meat thoroughly before starting to eat, because he knew that Ulrich always forgot to remove the bullets from the meat. He wasn’t the unlucky one this time, it seemed. He took a bite of the rabbit meat. It was very hot, but actually quite tasty. Something, he hadn’t experienced for quite a while now. He quickly finished his meal and turned his attention to the elf. She hadn’t even touched the meat yet and had, seemingly, spend all her time examining the mug he had handed her. “Something’s wrong?” He asked. She didn’t answer. “I got that a long time ago when I was on campaign with the count, in the north. I tracked down the wurm after it had attacked our rearguard. The count had given me the command of a unit of pistoliers… unruly soldiers, I tell you! But we got the job done, nevertheless. It had apparently hit a tree and broke a wing, so it could not fly away from us. It had crashed down into a clearing in the forest, surrounded by big, strong oak trees. It could not get away, so we sneaked close to it, having left our horses a mile back, and got up behind it. It didn’t notice us, or so we though, so we readied our firearms and took aim, but as soon as the first pistolier came too close to the clearing, we found out that we had been terribly wrong. The wurm swung around and its jaws snapped the unlucky pistolier in half. The other men fired their guns and send it reeling. I finished the job by firing a poisoned bolt through its right eye and into the brain…” He stopped, noticing that the elf didn’t listen at all. “What’s so interesting about the mug?!” he barked, now very annoyed, “Nothing…” She answered in her melodious tone. Suddenly he felt an urge to slam her in the face with a clenched fist, but he held back. She turned her attention to him, “is something wrong?” she asked. “No, it’s nothing…” He murmured. It was far from the truth as he had never been ignored as much as he had just been, not by any girl. It was frustrating, to say the least, and he would have abandoned her here and now, if it hadn’t been for the money. He just hoped to be able to get the wench to her destination as soon as possible, so that he would get rid of her. Ulrich was watching the scene from the other side of the bonfire and was, to Mormacar’s annoyance, clearly amused by the situation. Mormacar send him a vicious glare that shut up his snickering instantly. Ulrich blushed and turned his attention to his ale and the meat.
Chapter two
“A just as rainy night”
“A just as rainy night”
Ulrich could hear the drops of rain hammering on the roof of the tent. The tent was so small he could almost feel Mormacar’s breathing next to him, but that wasn’t what was bothering him. That which was really annoying him was his toothache. He had, once again, forgotten to remove the bullets from the rabbit he had shot, and this time he had been the unlucky one. This time it seemed the tooth had been broken from biting the bullet, and though they had been travelling for the entire day, the elf had poured down even more insults than the sky had poured raindrops, and it was just before dawn break, all contributing to his tired state, he was unable to sleep thanks to the tooth. “First thing when we get to the city will be finding someone to pull out this cursed tooth” he thought to himself, starting to consider slapping Mormacar with something to prevent his incessant snoring. He was trying to adjust his pillow (yes, he had a pillow. Somehow it surprised a lot of people, that he always remembered his pillow.), when suddenly he heard a sound…Crack! Sounded like a twig snapping. Then he heard the sound of something grunting and snorting, not very loud, but hear-able. He slowly picked up his blunderbuss, and crawled out of the tent. Outside it was pitch-dark and raining in solid streams, drenching his finally dry clothes in less than a second. He spotted a large creature, sniffing its way around the tent of the elf, as if searching for something. “Damned bears” he thought. “Always around at the prospect of food.” He didn’t bother lighting a torch, as the rain had soaked everything in the entire camp, also making them unable to cook a proper dinner that evening, which had made him both grumpy and hungry. He sneaked up behind the bear, slowly without making a noise, making sure to have the wind against him, so it wouldn’t smell him. He had done this several times. Give them a warning shot and they’ll run away. He lifted “Olde Adri” and pulled the trigger. Suddenly a searing pain punched through his right shoulder and he was smashed into the mud. As he looked up the bear had turned around. He gasped at seeing the visage of the bear. The body was that of a bear, but its face seemed to be a human’s, except its lips and eyelids where removed and instead of teeth it had fangs the length of a bear’s. Blood from his shoulder mixed with the mud from underneath, and he realised that the creature before him was out of reach. It wasn’t that which had attacked him. He was lifted up from behind by a pair of strong, clawed hands. He could now clearly see the spear tip, pointing from his shoulder, just before it was pulled out. He let out a howl of pain. In the same instant, as if through a miracle conducted by one of the few gods benevolent towards him, his blunderbuss, which had kept silent when he pulled its trigger, probably because of the rain, went off, its loud shot adding to his yell. Shocked, the bear-creature jumped backwards, and whatever was holding him, dropped him facedown in the mud again. That finally awakened Mormacar who came storming out of the tent, as the two creatures decided to make a run for it. Also the elf looked out of her tent, although making sure not to get unnecessarily wet by sticking out more than her head. Mormacar ran to Ulrich and helped him up. “By the gods, what happened to you?” he asked, clearly unable to find anything more original to say. “That elf… Better double the salary…” Ulrich said. Then he passed out...
He found Ulrich just outside the camp, lying in a pool of blood and mud. He could see that Ulrich’s shoulder had been penetrated by a weapon – which was most likely a spear, judging from the shape of the wound – and he was battered and bruised. Ulrich was breathing, so he wasn’t dead, but the wound in his shoulder was potentially lethal if Mormacar didn’t do something to prevent him from bleeding out. He had to find some cloth to bandage the wound, but he didn’t recall seeing any in their bags, so he ran towards their tent to rip off some cloth, but before he got there, he remembered the thin blanket that he he’d received as a gift from his mother, on his 14th birthday. He ran towards the elf’s tent to get to the other half of their bags and stumbled over a long, wooden shaft. “Ouch!” He screamed as he fell head first onto the muddy ground, his head landing on a stone, “What is this thing?! Who left it here?!!” He checked his head, but he was okay. Then he looked down to see what he’d tripped over and found a crude spear with a runed tip. He tossed it aside and ran to the tents.
As he jumped inside the tent, the elf yelled an insult at him as he “defiled” her bed linnets with mud, but he ignored it as always. He quickly found what he was looking for, in a large leather bag. It was a wool blanket that his mother had made for him to keep him warm in the nights, as he was enlisted into the Count’s guard, as a squire for one of the knights. It had barely been used, so it was fairly clean and would make for a perfect bandage, when ripped into smaller shreds. Suddenly he heard the elf snicker behind him and he soon remembered why he’d used it so rarely; it had a large yellow duck sewed onto the back side of the blanket… Oh, how he hated that elf! “Shut up, will you! You could help me save my friend instead of laugh at the only means of stopping the bleeding wound in his shoulder!” She stopped laughing and retreated to the back of the tent, which seemed so much bigger inside than their tent did – even though the tents were exactly the same size. He grinned and hurried outside.
Ulrich had regained his senses, in the meantime, and he was now crawling on his knees towards the camp. Mormacar almost hit his crawling friend, but managed to stop when he saw him. “Morm... they speared me! I… I’ve got this aching wound in my shoulder and the pain is to spreading throughout my body. Do you think the spear tip was poisoned?” Said Ulrich with some difficulty. “I don’t know, old friend, but I’m gonna patch you up now, so relax.” Responded the worried Mormacar. He looked at the wound and he could see that the surrounding skin was turning black and the blackness was spreading. It had to be a poison, but which? He had never seen anything like it before. All he could do now was to patch Ulrich up and see if there was an alchemist who specializes in poisons, at the next town. He helped to get Ulrich on his feet and then he went to where he had dropped the spear. When he found the place, the shaft had dissolved somehow and now the only thing left was the rusty spear tip. He picked it up and examined it. What had looked like dwarven runes, at first glance, turned out to be a language that he had never seen before. The only symbol that he recognized was the eight-pointed star of chaos…
He found Ulrich just outside the camp, lying in a pool of blood and mud. He could see that Ulrich’s shoulder had been penetrated by a weapon – which was most likely a spear, judging from the shape of the wound – and he was battered and bruised. Ulrich was breathing, so he wasn’t dead, but the wound in his shoulder was potentially lethal if Mormacar didn’t do something to prevent him from bleeding out. He had to find some cloth to bandage the wound, but he didn’t recall seeing any in their bags, so he ran towards their tent to rip off some cloth, but before he got there, he remembered the thin blanket that he he’d received as a gift from his mother, on his 14th birthday. He ran towards the elf’s tent to get to the other half of their bags and stumbled over a long, wooden shaft. “Ouch!” He screamed as he fell head first onto the muddy ground, his head landing on a stone, “What is this thing?! Who left it here?!!” He checked his head, but he was okay. Then he looked down to see what he’d tripped over and found a crude spear with a runed tip. He tossed it aside and ran to the tents.
As he jumped inside the tent, the elf yelled an insult at him as he “defiled” her bed linnets with mud, but he ignored it as always. He quickly found what he was looking for, in a large leather bag. It was a wool blanket that his mother had made for him to keep him warm in the nights, as he was enlisted into the Count’s guard, as a squire for one of the knights. It had barely been used, so it was fairly clean and would make for a perfect bandage, when ripped into smaller shreds. Suddenly he heard the elf snicker behind him and he soon remembered why he’d used it so rarely; it had a large yellow duck sewed onto the back side of the blanket… Oh, how he hated that elf! “Shut up, will you! You could help me save my friend instead of laugh at the only means of stopping the bleeding wound in his shoulder!” She stopped laughing and retreated to the back of the tent, which seemed so much bigger inside than their tent did – even though the tents were exactly the same size. He grinned and hurried outside.
Ulrich had regained his senses, in the meantime, and he was now crawling on his knees towards the camp. Mormacar almost hit his crawling friend, but managed to stop when he saw him. “Morm... they speared me! I… I’ve got this aching wound in my shoulder and the pain is to spreading throughout my body. Do you think the spear tip was poisoned?” Said Ulrich with some difficulty. “I don’t know, old friend, but I’m gonna patch you up now, so relax.” Responded the worried Mormacar. He looked at the wound and he could see that the surrounding skin was turning black and the blackness was spreading. It had to be a poison, but which? He had never seen anything like it before. All he could do now was to patch Ulrich up and see if there was an alchemist who specializes in poisons, at the next town. He helped to get Ulrich on his feet and then he went to where he had dropped the spear. When he found the place, the shaft had dissolved somehow and now the only thing left was the rusty spear tip. He picked it up and examined it. What had looked like dwarven runes, at first glance, turned out to be a language that he had never seen before. The only symbol that he recognized was the eight-pointed star of chaos…
Chapter three
“A matter of survival”
“A matter of survival”
Dark... Cold… It felt as if he was lying on a stone floor in a cellar. A Low voice was cackling somewhere in the distance. He tried to move, but his limbs were too darn heavy. Suddenly a light burst through the darkness and a being of light descended upon him. It was the shape of a female. Its hands felt warm on his chest and it was like a weight was pulled of him. “Awaken” it whispered in a melodious voice. Ulrich opened his eyes and stared into the azure eyes of the elf. “You-“he stammered exhausted, almost whispering. “You… You calculating, godforsaken, pointy-eared vampire!” he yelled, sending her reeling halfway through the room, chasing her through the other half by sending whatever throw-able objects he could reach from his bed towards her with the speed of a Hellblaster Volley Gun. She hurriedly slammed the door behind her, safeguarding herself from both his physical and verbal attacks, though he continued cursing her in loud voice for some ten minutes. Cursing always made him feel better. He looked around the room. The light was shining in through the recently cleaned windows, so the room was well lit. He was lying in a bed with clean white bed-sheets, just beside a table with some bottles, a cup and a plateful breakfast. The books that had been lying on the table where scattered throughout the room, as a testament to his outburst of anger. Suddenly he started to laugh at the sight of a fried egg splattered on the wall, as he had run out of books. “Glad you’re in a good mood mate!” Mormacar was standing in the, now open, door with the stupid smile he knew Ulrich hated. Ulrich didn’t bother to snap at him. “I almost got trampled down by the wench on my way up, what in our hammer-wielding arch-patrons name did you do to her?” Mormacar halfway laughed his way through the sentence. Ulrich laughed with him. “I’m just happy this is over with” he smiled, massaging his still aching shoulder. “Umm, yeah, ab-out that…” Mormacar was suddenly very concentrated on some non-existing dirt on his boots. “What?” Ulrich snapped, his fingers already searching for something heavy to throw at the outrider. “Well, it seems our employer at the moment needs us for further-“Mormacar was interrupted as he had to jump into safety behind the door as Ulrich’s plate crossed the room. “You let that sweet-talking woman rehire us?!” “No, listen” Mormacar continued entering the room, his hands held high “I don’t like this anymore than you do, but I had no choice.” “Explain yourself” Ulrich said, holding the cup ready for throwing. “I’ve searched the whole town for an alchemist, or a priest to heal that wound of yours, but no one would touch it with a three feet pole. You were in a sorry condition and if I didn’t hurry, you’d be gone by now, so show some gratitude.” “Where does the elf fit in?” Ulrich barked aggressively. “Apparently” Mormacar said, “She is quite skilled in witchcraft and she offered to help you, but on one condition. We have to escort her, ‘till she reaches the worlds edge mountains.” “No way, not even Ulrik himself could get me to follow her one step further!” Ulrich smashed his fist into the table, making the few unbroken bottles still left dance around and fall on the floor. A melodious voice from the door said “That is your choice human, but to get cured from the corruption you’ve got to get treatment twice a week, and I’m not stopping my mission because of a simple man. So either you go with me and protect me with your life, or you will die here, as a shrunken, dark shade of your former self.” She seemed to consider something and turning around she said, in loud voice “Although of course that would be a change for the better.” Ulrich scratched his beard and cursed the hedge wizard for the first time that morning. This was going to be a long day…
Mormacar could understand Ulrich’s anger, but he had no choice but to accept her de-mands, in order for his friend to survive. As Mormacar left the tavern, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened last night and he really wished he knew what it was that had attacked Ulrich, but he had no idea. As he walked through the muddy street, he sud-denly saw a stand where a merchant was selling all kinds of dried and salted meat. Being really hungry, he couldn’t resist the temptation and walked over to the stand. The stand itself was in a terrible condition, barely able to stay upright, but neither the meat nor the merchant were of equal conditions. The meat had such a delicious scent that it made Mor-macar’s stomach growl even louder than a few moments ago, and the merchant was clad in a very fine silk suit, with gold trimming and on his fingers he wore diamond-studded rings. He surely did not belong in such a poor city as this. “Asch belama, good friend, can I interest you in anything? I can assure you that these meats are of the finest quality”, the merchant said with a strange, unfamiliar accent. “Indeed you can, how much is that rack of muttons you have hanging there?” replied Mormacar, pointing at a piece of meat hanging from the top of the stand in a string. “For that one, you’ll have to pay ten. It’s from one of the world’s most magnificent creatures, I tell you. The creature, a Kano we call it, roams the southern plains of my glorious homeland”, came the reply. Mormacar lifted an eyebrow. He had never heard of any creature named a Kano and he normally went about and bragged about his ability to successfully identify every single creature in the known world, be it a beast, a bird or even a mythical creature. He quickly decided that it did not matter anyways, as the man was probably making it up, in order to sell his wares. Besides, the price was reasonable, considering the sheer size of the muttons. “Okay, fair enough, I’ll buy them!” Mormacar let his hand slid down into his money bag and found ten silver pieces and put them onto the half rotten wood of the stand “desk”. The merchant looked at them and laughed heartily. “Hahaha, oh no, my friend. I meant ten copper pennies not silver pieces!” Mormacar was about to shout out, as he thought that the merchant was now asking 10 gold crowns for the meat, but suddenly he realized what the man just said. He was shocked. “We have so much of this meat back in my country, so it’s not worth much actually”, he laughed, “and I’m actually charging more than the prizes at home. I’m a merchant and I do this for profit, but I would never take ten silver pieces for something when I’m asking ten copper pennies. Such is my people, honest and good.” Mormacar found it difficult to believe what the merchant said, but he could not say no to such a bargain. “In that case, give me all of your muttons! I know how to put them to good use, and besides, I’m not poor.” He the merchant smiled at him and started cutting down the hanging muttons and then he found a big silk bag and dropped the meats in there. Then he received the payment. “I am surprised you haven’t gotten more customers. This would be the bargain of every customer’s life!” Mormacar said. “It’s sad, but it is because the locals do not trust me. My skin is much darker than theirs, so they told me that I do not belong here and that I should just pack my things and leave. I would have done so a few days earlier, if not my horse had become so weak that it could no longer drag the weight of my current amount of goods. But now that I’ve sold all this meat to you, I’ll finally be able to get on the road again and head towards the city of Nuln. I’m going there to study the technology and gunpowder works of the city, you see. I’ve been given that task by my king, so I cannot come home before my task is done and I have gained much knowledge,” explained the merchant. Mormacar had suddenly gotten really interested in the man and his mission, so he asked: “Where are you from, good man? I do not recognize the style of your garments and neither do I know of any other nation with a king, except of Brettonia, but you surely do not come from that lowly kingdom”. “That is true, for I come from the lands in the Far East. My village is the closest to your civilization so it was only natural that we would be the ones to establish contact with your people. Although my nation is but a kindling compared to the mighty tree that is the eastern kingdoms, my nation is still a great nation”, came the reply, “and now that t I’m at it, you should visit sometime… here, take this and you will be able to walk safely anywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms, as long as you abide by the rules and honor the High King.” The merchant found a golden bracelet in a small crimson bag at his waist and gave it to Mormacar, who quickly put it on his wrist. It was as if it had been made for his wrist. It fitted him perfectly and he quickly looked at the golden reliefs in the bracelet. It resembled at long slender dragon with no wings and a wild mane of flames. The eyes were green emeralds which glinted in the sun and looked as if they were glaring at him. He thanked the man and wondered what he could possibly do in order to further help the man on his journey. Then he gripped a silver disc on his belt and put it in the hands of the merchant. “This is a badge of the City Guard of Nuln. It was given to me by the count and the guard captain as a token of gratitude, granting me the rights to enter and leave Nuln as I please, without having to be searched for illegal goods and things like that, before the guard will let me through the gates. Just show it to the guards and tell them that Mormacar sent you, and then they’ll let you in without a problem. If you need anything, thereafter, then just ask for Jules at the tavern of the “Dancing Scarecrow” and tell him that you’re there to collect his debt to me. He’ll help you with whatever you need help with.” The man smiled broadly and clapped his hands. “Ah, such a fine man! Thank you so much! I will never forget this and I sincerely hope that our paths will cross again someday.” The two men shook hands an Mormacar swung the meat-filled bag on his back and headed towards the tavern, when the man shouted at him: “My name is Ishmaehl Kai, by the way, what is yours?!”, “Mormacar Brunght!” came the reply.
“Keep the rest” Ulrich said to the barkeep as he threw down some copper coins and picked up his mug. He turned, sipping, standing with his back to the desk and looking at his sur-roundings. The beer was substantially better than he had been left to believe from the shabby look of the tavern he had gotten himself into. He had taken a stroll, partly because he needed some equipment for the journey (damn that elf), but also because he had seriously been needing a good mug of beer, and the inn Mormacar had rented rooms in was far too expensive. It was typical. Whatever money they made that outrider was sure to use it as quickly as possible on far too expensive items. Ulrich preferred always to have a little money left in his pocket, but it seemed that the counts army had not been as rough as Mormacar would like to depict it. Pff, soldiers nowadays. All around him people were talking, playing dices and whatever people do in taverns. It was dark and hard to distinguish people’s faces and the smell of beer, tobacco and sweat filled his nostrils. This was his ambient and he always got in a good mood when he was standing at a bar. Until some aethyr-damned fool started something of course. As he was standing there, relishing being back to civili-… back in a more civilized area, he hesitated at calling this kind of tavern civilization, a big man walked up to the bar, right beside him. Big was an understatement. Ulrich was taller and broader than most men in the Empire, but this guy was huge. Full one-and-a-half head taller than Ulrich, and with the shoulders of an ox. His face looked as if it was carved out in rock, by the raging wind, and he had a large scar down his bare chest. He wore almost no clothes, even though it was late autumn, and Ulrik’s winter was starting to get a grip on the old world. All he had was a large leather loincloth, a helmet and a pair of massive boots. Those, on the other hand, looked mightily comfy, Ulrich thought to himself looking down on his own, only-water-inside-resistant, boots. “Ara ke nak” a deep voice suddenly said, ripping his attention off his boots. “What?” was the only reply he could muster, out of confusion. “Sorry, we…I thought you were somebody else” the huge man beside him said, with a heavy accent Ulrich didn’t know, turning away again. “Not from around these parts I suppose?” Ulrich said, feeling in the mood for a little chit-chat, partly encouraged by the beer. Not getting an answer, he decided to rephrase the question. “Where are you from?” The reply came after a brief silence. “North.” “Ah, me too, all the way from Nordland.” The man suddenly turned, grinning, kind of unnerving Ulrich, who was not sure whether to grin back or punch him, just in case he tried something funny. “Come, you can help me” the man said almost dragging Ulrich away from the bar and out in the street. “By Morth let me-…Sigmar’s sausage!” a clenched metal-clad fist zoomed in on his face and the world went dark. He woke up a little later, the metal taste of blood still in his mouth. His shirt was ripped open revealing his shoulder wound. Cursed goblin-nose, what the hell was going on?
Mormacar shifted the sack, which he had slung over his shoulder, into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. He was heading for the poorer part of the city. He had once tra-veled through this city in his younger days, before he met Ulrich, with a lost little child which he had found on the banks of a river. He had searched for an orphanage and found one much to his liking; it was not a building of a good condition, but what was left of it was being kept standing with a determination of such magnitude that it was hard to imagine. The head mistress was the one responsible of this mighty feat and it was obvious how much she had sacrificed in order to keep it. And the place was so well kept that it looked as if it had come from the richer parts of the city and had then been moved to the slums, such was the will of the head mistress that the place should always be there for the poor kids who needed it.
Mormacar went down the street towards the slums, smiling and whistling happily to himself, and took his time to get there since he was not in a hurry after all. He knew that Ulrich was still in bed, either sleeping or fuming over the fact that he had let themselves rehire by the elf woman. What was her name again?.. Mormacar did not remember. Perhaps she had never told them her name? How odd… “Well well… it’s not like I care anyway,” he said to himself as he entered the slums. He greeted many of the people here, as he felt some kind of kinship with these people, more than with any noble, and that was even though he was the first born son of a nobleman, but Mormacar had forsaken that path in life a long time ago when he went to join the count’s army as it marched towards Praag in order to aide its allies. This had been during the Great War against chaos, in which the Lord of End Times had command of the unholy hordes. At the end of the war he had left the army together with Ulrich and they had lived as mercenaries ever since. Ulrich had actually been against the idea of becoming a mercenary and he would rather go back home and continue his life as a coachman. Ulrich had been forced into service during the War due to a shortage of soldiers, while Mormacar had volunteered. Ulrich started out as a halberdier but due to some curious happenings as the army marched through a large forest, his talent for scouting and the planning of skirmishes had been recognized by his superiors, and he was soon reassigned to the scouting parties, where Mormacar had been for some time now. Mormacar had been an outrider for as long as he could remember. He did not remember anything of his childhood, ever since the war against chaos. The dark sorceries had probably been playing with his. He had been more exposed to these hazards after all, as his squad had crossed many a territory warped and wrecked by chaotic powers. He was sure that there was nothing to remember, so he did mourn over this loss. Maybe Ulrich had lost some of his intelligence the same way? “That’s gotta be it!” he laughed, as he turned down a small alley towards a beautiful house with big letters on the front door, saying “Sister Ralianda’s Orphanage”. He smiled at the kids who were playing in the street, looking for the Sister. She was nowhere to be seen, but it was not unusual as she was inside the house most of the time, looking after the children who were sick or who had been just pulled off the streets and put into care. Mormacar went up the steps to the door and knocked, but was cut off by a blinding reflection in the polished steel letters on the door. He turned in time to see a wave of light cross the sky and dissolve in the distance. All of the children were looking up, their lower jaws hanging in surprise. White spots filled most of his vision, but he ran over to a little girl who was standing by a light pole. “Hey little friend,” he smiled at her, “did you see what it was that just crossed the sky?” She smiled at him, but said nothing. “Did you see it?” he asked curiously, but he still got no answer. “You won’t get anything out of her, she’s deaf”, answered the voice of an elderly woman behind him. He turned to see sister Ralianda smiling at him. “Good day to you sister,” he greeted. “A fine day indeed, Mormacar”, came the reply, “what brings you here to the orphanage? Erandt is not at the orphanage anymore, as you already know. He joined the army when he heard you did and since he was old enough to stand on his own, I let him do as he wanted. I haven’t seen him since he left… the last I’ve is that he’s started doing business in Altdorf.” “Heh, I know sister. I will go visit him when I come by Altdorf next time… Sister, did you see that light in the sky?” he answered, “I did. A light spreading like ripples in water… it came from the north gate.” Mormacar was about to tell the sister about the meat in the sack, but was cut off as a contingent of city guards came storming down the street. Some of the guards looked frightened while some looked furious, what on earth was going on?! “Hey, captain! What is happening?” yelled Mormacar, “Something bad has happened at the city gates, seems like there had been some kind of attack!” yelled the captain….
Mormacar could understand Ulrich’s anger, but he had no choice but to accept her de-mands, in order for his friend to survive. As Mormacar left the tavern, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened last night and he really wished he knew what it was that had attacked Ulrich, but he had no idea. As he walked through the muddy street, he sud-denly saw a stand where a merchant was selling all kinds of dried and salted meat. Being really hungry, he couldn’t resist the temptation and walked over to the stand. The stand itself was in a terrible condition, barely able to stay upright, but neither the meat nor the merchant were of equal conditions. The meat had such a delicious scent that it made Mor-macar’s stomach growl even louder than a few moments ago, and the merchant was clad in a very fine silk suit, with gold trimming and on his fingers he wore diamond-studded rings. He surely did not belong in such a poor city as this. “Asch belama, good friend, can I interest you in anything? I can assure you that these meats are of the finest quality”, the merchant said with a strange, unfamiliar accent. “Indeed you can, how much is that rack of muttons you have hanging there?” replied Mormacar, pointing at a piece of meat hanging from the top of the stand in a string. “For that one, you’ll have to pay ten. It’s from one of the world’s most magnificent creatures, I tell you. The creature, a Kano we call it, roams the southern plains of my glorious homeland”, came the reply. Mormacar lifted an eyebrow. He had never heard of any creature named a Kano and he normally went about and bragged about his ability to successfully identify every single creature in the known world, be it a beast, a bird or even a mythical creature. He quickly decided that it did not matter anyways, as the man was probably making it up, in order to sell his wares. Besides, the price was reasonable, considering the sheer size of the muttons. “Okay, fair enough, I’ll buy them!” Mormacar let his hand slid down into his money bag and found ten silver pieces and put them onto the half rotten wood of the stand “desk”. The merchant looked at them and laughed heartily. “Hahaha, oh no, my friend. I meant ten copper pennies not silver pieces!” Mormacar was about to shout out, as he thought that the merchant was now asking 10 gold crowns for the meat, but suddenly he realized what the man just said. He was shocked. “We have so much of this meat back in my country, so it’s not worth much actually”, he laughed, “and I’m actually charging more than the prizes at home. I’m a merchant and I do this for profit, but I would never take ten silver pieces for something when I’m asking ten copper pennies. Such is my people, honest and good.” Mormacar found it difficult to believe what the merchant said, but he could not say no to such a bargain. “In that case, give me all of your muttons! I know how to put them to good use, and besides, I’m not poor.” He the merchant smiled at him and started cutting down the hanging muttons and then he found a big silk bag and dropped the meats in there. Then he received the payment. “I am surprised you haven’t gotten more customers. This would be the bargain of every customer’s life!” Mormacar said. “It’s sad, but it is because the locals do not trust me. My skin is much darker than theirs, so they told me that I do not belong here and that I should just pack my things and leave. I would have done so a few days earlier, if not my horse had become so weak that it could no longer drag the weight of my current amount of goods. But now that I’ve sold all this meat to you, I’ll finally be able to get on the road again and head towards the city of Nuln. I’m going there to study the technology and gunpowder works of the city, you see. I’ve been given that task by my king, so I cannot come home before my task is done and I have gained much knowledge,” explained the merchant. Mormacar had suddenly gotten really interested in the man and his mission, so he asked: “Where are you from, good man? I do not recognize the style of your garments and neither do I know of any other nation with a king, except of Brettonia, but you surely do not come from that lowly kingdom”. “That is true, for I come from the lands in the Far East. My village is the closest to your civilization so it was only natural that we would be the ones to establish contact with your people. Although my nation is but a kindling compared to the mighty tree that is the eastern kingdoms, my nation is still a great nation”, came the reply, “and now that t I’m at it, you should visit sometime… here, take this and you will be able to walk safely anywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms, as long as you abide by the rules and honor the High King.” The merchant found a golden bracelet in a small crimson bag at his waist and gave it to Mormacar, who quickly put it on his wrist. It was as if it had been made for his wrist. It fitted him perfectly and he quickly looked at the golden reliefs in the bracelet. It resembled at long slender dragon with no wings and a wild mane of flames. The eyes were green emeralds which glinted in the sun and looked as if they were glaring at him. He thanked the man and wondered what he could possibly do in order to further help the man on his journey. Then he gripped a silver disc on his belt and put it in the hands of the merchant. “This is a badge of the City Guard of Nuln. It was given to me by the count and the guard captain as a token of gratitude, granting me the rights to enter and leave Nuln as I please, without having to be searched for illegal goods and things like that, before the guard will let me through the gates. Just show it to the guards and tell them that Mormacar sent you, and then they’ll let you in without a problem. If you need anything, thereafter, then just ask for Jules at the tavern of the “Dancing Scarecrow” and tell him that you’re there to collect his debt to me. He’ll help you with whatever you need help with.” The man smiled broadly and clapped his hands. “Ah, such a fine man! Thank you so much! I will never forget this and I sincerely hope that our paths will cross again someday.” The two men shook hands an Mormacar swung the meat-filled bag on his back and headed towards the tavern, when the man shouted at him: “My name is Ishmaehl Kai, by the way, what is yours?!”, “Mormacar Brunght!” came the reply.
“Keep the rest” Ulrich said to the barkeep as he threw down some copper coins and picked up his mug. He turned, sipping, standing with his back to the desk and looking at his sur-roundings. The beer was substantially better than he had been left to believe from the shabby look of the tavern he had gotten himself into. He had taken a stroll, partly because he needed some equipment for the journey (damn that elf), but also because he had seriously been needing a good mug of beer, and the inn Mormacar had rented rooms in was far too expensive. It was typical. Whatever money they made that outrider was sure to use it as quickly as possible on far too expensive items. Ulrich preferred always to have a little money left in his pocket, but it seemed that the counts army had not been as rough as Mormacar would like to depict it. Pff, soldiers nowadays. All around him people were talking, playing dices and whatever people do in taverns. It was dark and hard to distinguish people’s faces and the smell of beer, tobacco and sweat filled his nostrils. This was his ambient and he always got in a good mood when he was standing at a bar. Until some aethyr-damned fool started something of course. As he was standing there, relishing being back to civili-… back in a more civilized area, he hesitated at calling this kind of tavern civilization, a big man walked up to the bar, right beside him. Big was an understatement. Ulrich was taller and broader than most men in the Empire, but this guy was huge. Full one-and-a-half head taller than Ulrich, and with the shoulders of an ox. His face looked as if it was carved out in rock, by the raging wind, and he had a large scar down his bare chest. He wore almost no clothes, even though it was late autumn, and Ulrik’s winter was starting to get a grip on the old world. All he had was a large leather loincloth, a helmet and a pair of massive boots. Those, on the other hand, looked mightily comfy, Ulrich thought to himself looking down on his own, only-water-inside-resistant, boots. “Ara ke nak” a deep voice suddenly said, ripping his attention off his boots. “What?” was the only reply he could muster, out of confusion. “Sorry, we…I thought you were somebody else” the huge man beside him said, with a heavy accent Ulrich didn’t know, turning away again. “Not from around these parts I suppose?” Ulrich said, feeling in the mood for a little chit-chat, partly encouraged by the beer. Not getting an answer, he decided to rephrase the question. “Where are you from?” The reply came after a brief silence. “North.” “Ah, me too, all the way from Nordland.” The man suddenly turned, grinning, kind of unnerving Ulrich, who was not sure whether to grin back or punch him, just in case he tried something funny. “Come, you can help me” the man said almost dragging Ulrich away from the bar and out in the street. “By Morth let me-…Sigmar’s sausage!” a clenched metal-clad fist zoomed in on his face and the world went dark. He woke up a little later, the metal taste of blood still in his mouth. His shirt was ripped open revealing his shoulder wound. Cursed goblin-nose, what the hell was going on?
Mormacar shifted the sack, which he had slung over his shoulder, into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. He was heading for the poorer part of the city. He had once tra-veled through this city in his younger days, before he met Ulrich, with a lost little child which he had found on the banks of a river. He had searched for an orphanage and found one much to his liking; it was not a building of a good condition, but what was left of it was being kept standing with a determination of such magnitude that it was hard to imagine. The head mistress was the one responsible of this mighty feat and it was obvious how much she had sacrificed in order to keep it. And the place was so well kept that it looked as if it had come from the richer parts of the city and had then been moved to the slums, such was the will of the head mistress that the place should always be there for the poor kids who needed it.
Mormacar went down the street towards the slums, smiling and whistling happily to himself, and took his time to get there since he was not in a hurry after all. He knew that Ulrich was still in bed, either sleeping or fuming over the fact that he had let themselves rehire by the elf woman. What was her name again?.. Mormacar did not remember. Perhaps she had never told them her name? How odd… “Well well… it’s not like I care anyway,” he said to himself as he entered the slums. He greeted many of the people here, as he felt some kind of kinship with these people, more than with any noble, and that was even though he was the first born son of a nobleman, but Mormacar had forsaken that path in life a long time ago when he went to join the count’s army as it marched towards Praag in order to aide its allies. This had been during the Great War against chaos, in which the Lord of End Times had command of the unholy hordes. At the end of the war he had left the army together with Ulrich and they had lived as mercenaries ever since. Ulrich had actually been against the idea of becoming a mercenary and he would rather go back home and continue his life as a coachman. Ulrich had been forced into service during the War due to a shortage of soldiers, while Mormacar had volunteered. Ulrich started out as a halberdier but due to some curious happenings as the army marched through a large forest, his talent for scouting and the planning of skirmishes had been recognized by his superiors, and he was soon reassigned to the scouting parties, where Mormacar had been for some time now. Mormacar had been an outrider for as long as he could remember. He did not remember anything of his childhood, ever since the war against chaos. The dark sorceries had probably been playing with his. He had been more exposed to these hazards after all, as his squad had crossed many a territory warped and wrecked by chaotic powers. He was sure that there was nothing to remember, so he did mourn over this loss. Maybe Ulrich had lost some of his intelligence the same way? “That’s gotta be it!” he laughed, as he turned down a small alley towards a beautiful house with big letters on the front door, saying “Sister Ralianda’s Orphanage”. He smiled at the kids who were playing in the street, looking for the Sister. She was nowhere to be seen, but it was not unusual as she was inside the house most of the time, looking after the children who were sick or who had been just pulled off the streets and put into care. Mormacar went up the steps to the door and knocked, but was cut off by a blinding reflection in the polished steel letters on the door. He turned in time to see a wave of light cross the sky and dissolve in the distance. All of the children were looking up, their lower jaws hanging in surprise. White spots filled most of his vision, but he ran over to a little girl who was standing by a light pole. “Hey little friend,” he smiled at her, “did you see what it was that just crossed the sky?” She smiled at him, but said nothing. “Did you see it?” he asked curiously, but he still got no answer. “You won’t get anything out of her, she’s deaf”, answered the voice of an elderly woman behind him. He turned to see sister Ralianda smiling at him. “Good day to you sister,” he greeted. “A fine day indeed, Mormacar”, came the reply, “what brings you here to the orphanage? Erandt is not at the orphanage anymore, as you already know. He joined the army when he heard you did and since he was old enough to stand on his own, I let him do as he wanted. I haven’t seen him since he left… the last I’ve is that he’s started doing business in Altdorf.” “Heh, I know sister. I will go visit him when I come by Altdorf next time… Sister, did you see that light in the sky?” he answered, “I did. A light spreading like ripples in water… it came from the north gate.” Mormacar was about to tell the sister about the meat in the sack, but was cut off as a contingent of city guards came storming down the street. Some of the guards looked frightened while some looked furious, what on earth was going on?! “Hey, captain! What is happening?” yelled Mormacar, “Something bad has happened at the city gates, seems like there had been some kind of attack!” yelled the captain….
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So, guys, what do you think? ninja
