Bab 107: Khorne's Chosen
"Why is everything turning out like this?" I complained as I looked at another piece of armor I crafted.
Jack took up the gauntlets and whistled, "I don't know what you are complaining about. This armor is sick and I can feel the power radiating from it."
"The problem is that I am trying to make us some gear that broadcasts the idea that we are the good guy heroes." I spat, "And everything I make comes out brutal, more brutal, or most brutal! If we wear this stuff we will look like the guys who show up after the death of Morgoth and congratulate the heroes on beating up the nerd we bullied in high school and now it is time for them to face down some real fucking bad guys."
"I don't feel that way about my gear, master!" Medusa assured me while looking cute in her leather and fur outfit, the snow leopard skin that made up her helmet looked especially adorable with its surprised to be slain expression clearly expressed on its taxidermized upper face.
"Honey." I sighed, "I decorated your armor with Charr horns."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I am wearing a war crime."
I had taken some inspiration from the Charr Trapper armor for our lovely Ranger, and fused it with a bit of the Norn flare for utilizing leather and fur. I had found myself enjoying the blending of the two distinct styles. It was all going great until I finished and realized that I'd decorated the armor with fucking Charr horns, which is the equivalent of wearing a cape of human scalps, among other brutal little bells and whistles I couldn't remember adding.
It was like that over and over again.
Try and flute a suite of plate mail and all of a sudden it looks like a skeleton. Shape a pauldron like a lion in repose, now it's a snarling dragon. Put hearts on the rondels, now they are skulls. Engrave a poetic verse, now it's a curse in Black Speak and hurts the eyes of virgins to look upon.
Brutal has always been our preferred aesthetic, but now for some reason it was the only option. At least it hadn't dipped into some S & M Demon aesthetic. I don't care how much Slaanesh approves, heshe is a shit chaos god for wankers. Khorne all the way.
Speaking of Khorne, some of this armor was my best attempt ever to do his aesthetic justice. One of the helmets I made even burst into flame creating a sort of lion's mane of fire around my head when worn.
If only I'd intended to do that.
"Babe." Jack rubbed my frustrated back, "Actions speak louder than words, so even if we show up looking like the scariest raiders people have ever seen, as long as we are saving the day they will just have to deal with the cold shiver of dread our visage bestows on them."
She smiled that gorgeous smile and I felt refreshed.
"Also there is now way I am not wearing this armor set." she hefted a helmet that was a part of a set that let the world know she was bipedal, hard to kill, and here to fuck people's day up.
Wanda was currently being helped by Medusa slip into a corvid themed dress I have no idea where I got the feathers for. Did I fucking forged them of Orichalcum?
She had done her face up in a magical skull themed face paint that also somehow provided the same benefits as a light class helmet in this world.
Out of all of us she looked the most approachable, and that is saying something with the hefty aura of doom her gear permeated. That approachability ended when she hefted up a brutal Reaper greatsword, having begun the slog through the Elite Specialization on the way south to Hoelbrak.
For most she looked like a nightmare given form, but damn she got my cock hard. I finally had my big titty goth girl.
Despite my best efforts, I eventually had to accept my place as Khorne's Chosen in this world and donned my blood red plate armor decorated in golden skulls and accents with bearskins draped over my shoulders and from my belt, and a plethora of Charr horns tastefully welded to my helmet and pauldrons to really drive home the idea that a meeting with me will be quite final and that I'll keep a piece of you as a memento of the fight you failed to put up against me.
I was quite happy with the Ormagoden theme I'd managed to work into it, including a big golden belt buckle of his brutal face.
My greatsword and tower shield looked like a pair of crimes against all of sentient life. Looking at them causes brief physical pain and the tightening of a man's sack in fear.
All in all it was a gearset oozing power and pain, and I was excited to integrate it with tech at the end of this journey to create something truly brutal, powerful, and cutting edge.
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The Norn were happy to see the back of us after we left their capital and marched our way to the Snowden Drifts. The region was another majorly important route between Kryta and what was once the Kingdom of Ascalon. A number of small settlements exist between the steep peeks and deep lakes of the region, and all of them suffer from the presence of the Son's of Svanir, the Centaurs (who were once separate tribes now united under one leader with the goal of destroying Humanity) and the Dredge (a race of mole men, formerly enslaved to the Dwarves, and the righteous inheritors of Ormagoden in this world due to their mastery of metal and sound and their addition of fire when they would go on to form the Molten Alliance with the Flame Legion).
Needless to say there was a lot to do if a guy wanted to meander his way through the area. Right from the start we encountered hunters hurt along the road in need of help and as we continued we were beset by the corrupted Icebrood battling it out with the local Lionguard.
Those guys are fucking heroes for signing up to fight this shit. Sure they were paid handsomely due to being out here to defend merchant caravans that travel to and from their economic superpower city state, but they were the closest thing the region would ever see to an organized police force.
After pushing our way west, we took a brief detour north to battle the Sons of Svanir and the Centaurs as they duked it out with the Seraph (The Human Kingdom of Kryta's standing army) and the Durmand Priory (A multiracial scholarly order dedicated to preserving and unearthing historical information and currently trying to find some way of dealing with the rise of the Elder Dragons from historical accounts).
The general despair of our approach turned into whoops of joy when we sent the Centaurs running and put the Svanir outpost to the sword. We chose to set up camp with the Seraph as the we had little in common with the scholars of the Priory despite having gone to High School.
"Never thought I'd see the day when a family of tiny Norns would save our asses." Seraph Archer Brian stated as I hauled Centaur bodies into our camp.
"We aren't tiny Norns." I told him, "We are big Humans."
"No wonder you guys don't suck." Brian spat, "If the Norn would put their ego's down for a decade or two we wouldn't have to be in this frozen hell hole blocking up the pass into the Gendarran Fields."
"I feel you brother." I nodded as I started butchering a Centaur.
"Holy shit!" Brian explained, "What are you doing?"
"Employing an ethical butcher to procure fresh meat for my dinner." I chuckled.
"You eat Centaurs?" The man gasped.
"You don't?" I asked.
"Of course not!" Brian denied, "I'd never eat any sentient creature!"
"Why?" I questioned.
"Because it's not right!" The man nodded his head having found the right words.
"What isn't right, Brian." I said as I pulled the entrails out of the horse half of the centaur, "Is these horseman fucks trampling our fields and killing our livestock so that our women and children starve. They are the ones pushing for this war of survival, not us. They deserve no sympathy, only the press of our blades and the impact of our hammers. They deserve to be slaughtered, and they deserve to be eaten."
I put cuts of back strap on a portable grill over the campfire and we watched them brown and glisten with juices as I seasoned them with salt, pepper, and garlic.
"Are you not hungry Brian, and sick of field rations." I grinned, "The enemy has brought dinner with him tonight."
I cut into the tender meat, steaming with heat in the cold air of the frigid evening, and put it into my mouth, sighing in satisfaction.
"Come, Brian. Let us eat."
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JManM
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Bab 108: Gendarran Fields
We stayed a few more days with the Seraph company holding the Snowden Drift passes into the Gendarran Fields, a Company that would soon redesignated themselves the Blood Angels and now pray for the coming of the enemy, and dinner. Before we left they painted their equipment red and I noticed a distinct enhancement to the speed of their maneuvers in the field.
I'd have to keep my head on a swivel, cause if the Greenskins are here then this world really is fucked.
The rapid transition from snowy mountains of the Shiverpeaks to the lush fields of Kryta worked wonders for my general mood. Just over two months in the freezing cold had left me happy to put aside snow and ice for a good long while. Lake Gendarr would prove a lovely source of fun in the coming days as the water in Tyria was buoyant enough for even an armored hulk such as myself to swim safely though it, and a seemingly endless supply of pirates patrolled the lake looking for easy plunder and booty.
Too bad for them I am possessive of all the booty gathered around me.
We had our first encounter with the swashbuckling scallywags as we stayed as guests at the eccentric Almuten Mansion, a lakeside home consisting of a house built on a raised pier to keep it above potential flood lines with an upturned renovated ship forming the upper levels and roof.
The owner Master Wrelk, an Asura (a race of house elf like creatures with every large hands and feet hanging off their tiny bodies, primarily participate in a scholarly meritocracy), was very sad to hear we had not come to his home from Lion's Arch. The little creature was not taking his retirement from the Lionsguard very well and was desperate for news from the city he spent his youth fighting for.
The man's wife, Broga, was far more at home in their large estate. Happy to order about their platoon of servants and take care of their young daughter Mipp. A small thing suffering from the isolation from her peers living on this country estate, her only companion a Norn bodyguard named Tholaun.
Despite Wrelk's obsession with his former home, the family was more than interested to hear of our adventures among the Kodan and our journey south and west. We had just finished laughing about whatever curse made everything I crafted so evil looking when the cannons started firing from across the vineyards.
"Pirates!" screamed Wrelk in frustration, "Lock the doors! Close the shutters! Batten the hatches! Don't let those villains anywhere near me!"
"Dinner and family friendly activities!" Wanda grinned, "You guys really know how to entertain your guests."
"This is for real!" Mistress Broga shouted, "Real pirates are attacking!"
"And for that my family and I thank you." I declared as I opened a large nearby window, "You have been lovely hosts and very generous in offering up your neighbors to us in sacrifice. I graciously accept your gift and provide to you my blessing."
With that I jumped out of the window and a huge pair of arms shot out of my back and extended into wings.
"Crap!" Wanda cursed, "That's cheating!"
"Git gud, scrub!" I laughed back and flew over to the attacking pirates.
By the time dawn came around the Jackdaw pirates were a thing of the past and their booty was ours.
Traveling west from our evening revelries across the lake landed us outside of the Ascalon Settlement, a town established around a signal fire beacon by survivors of the Ascalon-Charr war. Many of the residents believed that one day they would reclaim their kingdom from the Charr, but the fact that the town was currently under attack by Centaurs and losing put lie to that.
The Centaurs were fast in the field and hit hard both physically and magically with their potent earth mages, and they have nearly destroyed humanity across Tyria, but the Charr war machine would crush the horsemen. When you are losing to the guys who would lose to the people you want to fight… Hope is an interesting concept, that's for sure.
Personally I couldn't see why these people would want to live, as the settlement looked like a Tuscany postcard minus the horsemen attacking with their pet rock dogs, one of which glowing gold and grown to epic proportions by potent earth magic.
We of course couldn't miss the chance for some good violence and fresh meat, and set about attacking the Centaurs with our usual enthusiasm and that evening I was happy to spread the good news of meat being back on the menu to the people of the beleaguered settlement.
As I carved up horse meat for the hangry crowd I overheard a conversation between two villagers that made me chuckle.
"Why don't they just leave us alone?"
"Ascalon has a long history of conflict with primitive races. Centuries ago, it was the Charr. Now, it's Centaurs."
"But why?"
"Why do savages ever do anything?"
"(Sigh) 'Cause they can."
These people just can't catch a break, and before long its going to be dragons and their corrupted minions they'd need to fight for control of this patch of land and the chance to live another day.
"Excuse me. You there!" a bald man in full steel plate armor under a cream tabard called out to get my attention.
"Come for some dinner." I offered the man some cuts of deep red meat.
"No thank you." he denied much to his loss, "I am Captain Bradin Glenavon. I am the Commanding Officer in charge of Nebo Terrace and I am in need of aid reclaiming the town after the Centaurs routed our forces in the area."
"That is a terrible thing to hear, Captain." I said, "My family and I would be happy to help fight the Centaurs as much as we can."
"That is excellent." Bradin smiled in relief, "We'd received a description of your family from our eastern forces and having such capable warriors in the area is a godsend after so many of my men have been captured and killed. If we don't retake Nebo Terrace the Centaurs will be able to spread their warfront across all of the Gendarran Fields."
"We can't have that." I told him.
"No we can't. I'll take a rack of ribs." He agreed and became the latest in my effort to turn this war around by turning humanity into some Centaur chomping war hounds.
The Captain rallied what was available of his Seraph forces at dawn for the counter attack on Nebo Terrace and they followed behind us as we charged into the Centaur warriors holding the walled town. Despite the location's strategic importance, it was held by the common rank and file of the Harathi and Tamini tribes. They were nothing more than snacks walking around on four legs for us, but the day wasn't won yet, because as the Seraph fortified their position, Bradin sent us into the field to track down and rescue the townsfolk and any members of his command the Centaurs had taken to work as slaves.
I was getting a very Dothraki vibe from the Centaurs now that I think about it. A race of savage horse men attacking everyone for slaves and loot. I still dig it, but it was a little disappointing to see such an obvious parallel.
Our mission took us across the Bloodfields and up the fortified Blood Hill Centaur Camp. We took the opportunity to take out several of the more powerful Centaur leaders in the area while we worked our way through the various slave pens, and somehow Medusa convinced their rock dogs to turn on their masters.
I don't know how she did it, but we definitely left an impression on the fleeing Centaurs as they cursed us as demons.
Someone should call Masterchief and let him know we hijacked his nickname.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA
JManM
JManM
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