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A vicious wind howled through the blackened trees and strangled thorn; the wintry landscape shuddering in each ice-cold gust. Heavy clouds menacingly encroached overhead steadily unloading a torrent of snowflakes; that covered the frozen ground by at least two feet.
To Rotamaster Günter Krunche this was not an abnormal Kislevite night but then again he knew that even the weather would herald Chaos…
Drawing his heavy fur-lined coat about him Krunche and his entourage of Winged Lances - Kislevite Horsemen, bedecked in dull shades of blue and red, hefted their heavy lances and rode onwards.
A snow draped crag rose in the distance. Their destination was near. This, however, was of little consolation to Krunche. If the Tzarina is right it is likely that his end is near too.
Swiftly the Rotamaster raised one leather-gloved hand in a flat downward movement, signalling his retinue advance with caution. That they did, the slight horses progressing at a steady trot. Günter’s expression began to turn as icey as the land he rode upon.
Finally the party reached the ominous crag. With a gruff elegancy, the Rotamaster rode to the very edge. Leaning over his Holsteiner horse, Krunche peered over the side. What he saw was indescribable…
The very air beneath Günter boiled and bulged, almost like a rat squirming in a cloth bundle. Except the air was bulging: the air! Then came the whispers.
‘…Sssradssssingai Korstari Flaaestorest…’
Krunche slumped down on his horse; pain overwhelming his head. Those around him began shouting in dismay, muffling their ears with hoods, hats and hands.
‘ …Torrressyai Eariee Koalstrantandei Vostari… ‘
Rotamaster Krunche forced himself to look back down into the snow-laden valley…this time his stomach squirmed…
The pulsating air below mutated horribly, warping out in all directions: its shimmering form boiling like molten lead. Eldritch fire screamed into existence about the phenomenon, bathing the thing in its multicoloured luminescence. Then with a torturous ripple the very fabric of the world burst, the seam spewing forth the twisted Horrors of the Etherworld.
Shockingly pink monsters leapt screaming from the Chaos Portal, their amphibious skin rippling like water, their hands aglow with the exotic fires of change. Twisted mouths gaped from every crevice and baleful eyes protruded on tubular stalks. Cruelly barbed claws ripped through their broiling skin and new limbs thrashed out of their roundish bodies. These were the heathen Horrors of Tzeentch.
The Rotamaster gazed, dumbstruck at the scene, the Tzarina had been right: tonight the Changer of Ways set his mutating eyes upon Kislev. Swiftly the Experienced Kislevite rallied his men with thunderous shout. Raising is lance to the heavens the good man of Kislev roared out to the assembled two-dozen men:
‘"...Why should we be the ones to suffer? Are we soldiers? Are we fighters? Why should we sacrificed? I shall tell you why! Because this soon will not only be a war of soldiers in uniform. It will be a war of the people, of all the people, and why in all conscience should they be the ones to suffer? Children, old people, a young girl at the height of her loveliness. Why these? Are these our soldiers? Are these our fighters? Why should they be sacrificed? We stand as order in Chaos, a Light in the Dark. This is our war not that of our families! War! It is our war! We are the fighters! Fight it then! Fight it with all that is in us, and may Sigmar defend the righteous!”
And with that the brave Rotamaster Günter Krunche bellowed heroically as he, had those sworn to the land of Kislev, charged with the thunder of hooves into the thousands of daemons of Tzeentch…



What do you think?

Can no one be bothered to read it? Thought so...

...cos its crap

only joking!

Well, it's a short story, but that doesnt make it bad, on the contrary . However, it does feel like just the intro to a far greater tale... Perhaps a continuation, or more of an explanation about the characters and such..

it was a piece of 500-or-so words writing for a competition that i won, just wanted to see,but considering that you find much better fluff on the web i wanted to see how it stood. ALI B put yours up.

what compition was this?

would the dude have time to make a long ass speech
when thousands of deamons were charging at them?
the answer is no.

That the guy's name is Krunche, the breed of his horse is a Holsteiner, and that they're being attacked by Daemons of Change makes me wonder - were you eating some breakfast cereal recently and noticed that the milk had gone bad?

rocknroll wrote:would the dude have time to make a long ass speech
when thousands of deamons were charging at them?
the answer is no.

what a silly freaking statement. how many action movies have you seen where time stops for the hero to make an inspirational speech? come on man.

nice work Kroq... there were some spelling issues and some verbage that made me wonder but i liked it.

yes but i case you hadent noticed most action films are
unrealistic

It's sort of like the sort of thing you'd find in the good old White Dwarf magazine with a picture of a unit of Winged Lancers up against two or three units of daemons.

rocknroll wrote:yes but i case you hadent noticed most action films are
unrealistic

ah, i didnt realize this was a historical doc.