Got a Piece of Warhammer Fantasy Fanfic here that I've begun to write.
Pieces will be put up at least once a week, if not quicker.
Hope you like it and I accept any critical feed back you're willing to give.
Stephan’s return to consciousness was not a pleasant one. Frozen to the bone he could feel the biting of tightly bound chords around his ankles and wrists and the counter point, throbbing rhythms of a headache and a dull pain about where his nose should be. He could still smell; he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse, as the stench of blood was all around him. All he could remember was the boot that broke his nose travelling towards his face and bell cry warning the town’s folk to the attack of the savages that had now taken him captive.
From all around him Stephan could hear the flapping of tent skins and the harsh whistling of a bitingly cold mountain wind, mixed with the hellish noises of criminally insane men fighting, howling wolves and the bellows and roars of all manner of ungodly beasts. Stephan nervously opened one swollen eye. What he saw did nothing to still his growing fear of his situation. He was being captive inside a tent made up of bloody animal furs mixed with what looked like human skin that seemed to writhe in a manner that made Stephan gag. He could see that he was being held captive along with two other men from his town, the Mayor; Jhonan, and another man he did not recognise. In front of him he could see his captors, two men and a woman, none of whom instilled in Stephan any confidence at his situation.
Stephan could see that the men were frighteningly big and strong, each with unnaturally large muscle and both supporting vicious, seemingly fatal scars across their torsos and faces. They both held themselves in a manner that suggested they best any other man in combat, and both wore big animal fur coats, to protect them from the cold. Each had big, rough, dark beards and long, unkempt hair, matted and filled with traces of past meals and streaks of blood. Their hands and faces were smeared with fresh blood as well as bits of flesh. Stephan could tell by the men’s crazed eyes, full of blood lust and the hint of froth emanating from their mouths that these men were clearly worshipped one of the dark gods.
The woman shared the same crazed eyes as that of the men, but was slender and more wiry. She had neither boots nor animal skin and seemed unconscious of the wind that whipped at her thin, red hooded dress that she wore. Stephan could just make out under her dark, red, unkempt wild hair that she wore a studded collar made from bright, heavy brass around her neck. The collar seemed to be made from one continuous piece of brass and had a single twist, which gave it a rather unnatural look and made it push into her neck. In her bloodied left hand she held a dark red, evil looking double bladed axe, which she seemed more than comfortable holding.
The Men and Woman were obviously waiting for something, and were conversing in some unholy tongue, the Men obviously treated the woman with respect. Before long, a third man entered the tent. The sight of this man brought Stephan to new levels of terror he had yet to realise. The man was hunched over to his side and unnaturally fused to his face neck and shoulder was the body of some hellish foetus. Unable to look away from this abomination of nature and all things holy under Sigmar, Stephan gazed morbidly at the man. The man was draped in an old, mouldy looking, tatty cloak and leant much of his weight on the staff in his right hand. The staff was as tall as the man was and it appeared to twist and turn as if under some arcane and evil majiks. Stephan saw the man look at woman with a mixture of lust and hatred in his eyes and heard him mumble something under his breath and giggle insanely.
“What did you say, Wizard?” spat the woman, saying venom dripping from the word Wizard, making the man squirm. “talking to your Gods are you?”
“Nhe, I’m not, Wizard... You are Wizard hee hee. Shut up! NO! Not you! Ka’Lar. I didn’t say anything, just... thinking aloud? Shh! Yes, no, thinking aloud, yes.” Replied the haggard Wizard manically.
“Freak Wizard” Said the woman with distain. “We’ve lost him again. Find him. Will one of these do?”
“Ahh, yes, one, one will do. Hee hee, WIZARD! I will check which one. The price! But there is a price. There’s always a price. Shhh!”
“Look Wizard, I don’t like your games and your politics, the Blood God has no need for it, all there is, is the glory of battle and the bloodletting in his name. You’ll have your price. Now, which one?!”
“That one! This one” said the Wizard and Stephan saw him point at the Mayor. “these others are. Useless. Shh, useless, yes.”
“No they’re not useless Wizard, we invoke our Great Lord’s wrath by your mere presence, and the blood of these two will go towards appeasing that wrath.” With that she turned to her associates and ordered “kill them, Blood for the Blood God!”
In blind panic Stephan began feverishly praying to Sigmar or any other god that would hear him to spare his life and let him live through this ordeal. He didn't even see the ferociously swung axe that decapitated his head and spilled his life blood on the floor.