Scylla sat quietly on the beach. When she arrived the crashing waves had made her anxious. Now once again they were calming. The last vestiges of daylight glinted off her Stormcast armor. Three Retributors patrolled the area. One walked the beach, one a nearby cliffside, and the last kept a watch inland. Three more joked and jibed each other quietly over a campfire. She glanced their way and smiled. She had hand picked each member of this unit. Scylla’s Quiet Storm is what Neave had Tagged them. They normally specialized in quietly and swiftly cutting off the head of the enemy forces. Today she was an errand girl. Originally it didn’t sit well with her. After Neave explained it’s necessity she calmed. Calmed to the mission, not the local. She had enjoyed tracking down enemies in forests, catacombs, castles, cities, anywhere but the sea.
In her first life she had grown up a fisherman’s daughter. She lived for the wet sand between her toes, the swaying of the deck, and the crisp ocean air. Then the dark time came, and she took up arms. She learned to wield a blade or axe as well as any man and better than quite a few. She was a Lieutenant on a warship when she met her first death. Sometimes she could still hear the splintering of the deck and the cracking of the hull in her dreams. Though the thundering of a Khorne horde could not shake her, she had lost her sea legs that day.
That had been another life though. In this life she was Scylla “Silent Night”, First ranger of Neave Blackthorne and leader of the Quiet Storm. Today she was only a lowly errand girl though. As a stillness fell over her men she cast her gaze to the sea. Ripples cascaded through the water. As day had turned to night her wait came to an end. She stood and her men looked to her. She dismissed them with a wave and hands drew away from weapons. With the silent grace of a ranger she approached the tide. Several domed heads crested the water. Followed swiftly by elven ears. The Idoneth had arrived.
Grimtide looked back over his shoulder at the Idoneth kingdom as they departed. He was not leaving alone. An entire legion had set out with the Blessed King. His people had tried cure after cure for their affliction. The experiments had many side effects, but never the desired goal. The most promising mages had turnt Idoneth black, blue, and finally they had created the Blessed King.
Baqir had insisted he undergo the promising ritual first. Many attempts did far worse then change the pigment of your skin. He refused to allow his people to take that risk this time. When he greeted the people after the sorcerers finished their experiment many fell to their knees in celebration and reverence. Though it would take time to prove success, Baqir was the first Idoneth to regain true pigment to his skin. From that day and forevermore he would be known as the “Blessed King”. Time passed and the king sired a daughter. Like the rest she withered away in her mother’s arms.
The sorcerers were at a lost. Though they still persisted Baqir sought a better solution for the present then the Idoneth raids. Until a cure could be devised he created the Reapers. The Reapers were small groups of Idoneth sent into communities offering to ease the pain of those who were already nearing death and give their souls a chance to live again. News of the Reapers spread through communities with mixed reactions until it reached the Stormcast.
Neave Blackthorn had decided to offer an alliance to these kindred reborn souls.
Grimtide was to lead a force of the Blessed King’s Idoneth, he had christened the Nightwave, to meet with the Stormcast representative. They would offer them away to reap many souls. Ones that were not innocent and deserved death. He thought once more of the day he had set out on this journey with the Nightwave. Looking back at his homeland for the last time with his wife by his side. Then she had just started to show. Now the birthing time was soon. He would need a soul.
She saw the first ten but quickly took in the rest of his fellows. She could see 3 riding sharks, 2 units of 3 riding some other large creature that was still submerged, and finally 2 units of archers. Those that approached her were led by an Idoneth whose skin was dark as coal. He looked her and her men over before speaking, “I am Grimtide, first Reaper of the Nightwave. We were told you have souls to offer us.”
The deck gently swayed beneath Scylla’s feet. As the wind rushed through her hair she remembered the beach. It felt like ages since she first met Grimtide. They had been able to convince The Nightwave to join the Stormcast in the war. Being permanently assigned to the Nightwave by Neave her Stormcast gold had been replaced by Nightwave Obsidian. She gazed from the deck of a cracked and broken ship from the depths floating on an ethereal wave. Below them was an unsuspecting encampment of Khorne. Silently The Nightwave would crash over them as it had done many before. And once more the Idoneth would have their souls.
No comments:
Post a Comment