Topic: 04/27 Deborah Ludenhof

[Siberius]

For the real start to this story, scroll down until you see the large title...

I hope this is the right place to post this, tis just a bit of background I wrote for my army... to give it a bit of character like...

                                                                                                           


Dark clouds rolled over the valley threatening to obscure the sun altogether. It seemed somehow appropriate to Deborah Ludenhof, it seemed sometimes that the weather was aware of and altered to match when bloodshed was imminent. Just this morning it had been sunny, not a cloud in the sky. Her father had looked upon it as a good omen and the camp had quickly been set into a commotion of packing up and preparing arms, ready to meet the gruesome threat which had been murdering and burning its way through his province.

But somehow it always seemed to her to turn out this way. Perhaps the magical energies that surrounded these foul beastmen, the twisted chaos of their very construction was enough to put nature out of kilter. She shuddered as she thought of the one previous time she had encountered the goat headed warriors. Her family had been on route back from Middenheim, accompanied by the Empire-renowned Jaegerskorps and two divisions of Halberdiers. She had been sat in the main coach with her father and older brother, Konrad, quiet and moody, as she had always been, hating diplomatic visits and the backstabbing politics her father had to conduct with the other counts. As the party had trundled through a dense section of the forest there had come an inhuman scream. That sound was locked in her memory forever along with the site that greeted her next.

Before Albebrand could take hold of her she had poked her head out through the thick blanketed covering over the coach’s windows in time to see huge shapes looming out of the dark trees. They seemed almost human but there was something terribly wrong. She could make out horns on their heads and fur covering their whole body. Her father had snatched her back into his arms but not before the young girl had seen one of the beastmen’s chests explode in a fountain of blood as one of the long riflers unloaded a close range shot into it and watched as the thing came on still, the Jaegerkorpsman’s eyes wide in unexpected horror as two axes buried themselves deep into his shoulders as the two warriors fell together.

That was all she had seen, the rest of the battle had ensued whilst she laid buried and shivering in Konrad’s arms, her father having handed her to him and jumped out of the carriage ready to command the counter attack against the beastmen. Two hours had passed this way before an ominous silence fell in the forest. The two children had crouched there praying for Sigmar’s protection until at last their father had opened the carriage door, covered in blood that was clearly not his own, or indeed any human blood. A weak and forced smile had crossed his face as he told them not to worry, they were safe now. A dark look wiped the smile from his face though and it was the first time that the young Deborah had seen the true pressure tell on her strong and famed father’s features, almost as scary to her as the sight of the beastmen themselves.

Twelve years had passed since then and she had seen many things that might be considered equally as horrific. Orcs and goblins dropping from the trees, fearsome and crude warpaint smudged into their green skin, madness and bloodlust the only emotions in their eyes. The cruelty of the dark elves, on a raiding mission for slaves, cold hatred in their eyes as they methodically killed the women and children of those men they had captured, right before their eyes, allowing the siren-like witch elves to carry out the slaughter as sacrifice to their demonic god.

None of those horrors, or any of the hours of martial training had been enough to prepare her  for her next meeting with her childhood nightmare though. Aldebrand looked over to her, concern lining his thin, handsome face.

“I see you still remember, daughter. You know I’d prefer it if you were back home, safe and awaiting our return.”

Awoken from her memories with a jolt, her face turned from fear to anger in a second, “Father, I chose to come out here, I want to fight by your side, I need to face this.”

He merely shrugged and turned his attention back to feeding the large black hawk on his arm scraps of meat, speaking comforting words to his pet. There was no point in arguing with her, ever since she was young she had been fiercely independent and the combined strictness of himself and Konrad, not to mention the many teachers he had found for her had not lessoned this one bit. She was determined to prove herself, what she needed to prove was beyond him, maybe being around a man’s world for so long, she felt like she needed to prove she was strong enough to be there. Certainly she had bested all of her fencing masters and was a deadly accurate shot with both longbow and crossbow, better he grudgingly admitted than even himself.

She had seen her fair share of battleground fighting too, often sneaking along with her father’s army baggage trains in disguise, binding her hair up and under a leather hat before joining the ranks of swordsmen just prior to battle. Of course with everything else going on he never found out until after the fighting had finished. She had wormed her way into the Swords captain Hein Kopfluer’s heart, indeed he had taught her for many years until he could not refuse her requests to join the regiment, even though Aldebrand had had severe words with him.

In the end, the Elector Count of Hochland had come to accept that his daughter had a warrior’s heart and decided that if she was going to be there in battle she may as well be known to him. Generally she accompanied the elite swordsmen still, fighting hard enough for three men, a mascot to them and indeed it seemed growingly the whole army. He couldn’t help but smile when he thought of the way they looked upon her, as a kind of lucky talisman. She was treated with total respect by his men, sometimes he wondered if Konrad, a fearsome fighter himself and leader of the Pistoliers felt jealousy at the admiration she was awarded.

An ear shattering horn rang out, snapping the two of them from their reveries and back to the matter at hand. Deborah’s anger faded and a warm smile flooded her face, no doubt the bain of any man’s plans and she kissed her father on the cheek before turning and beginning to ride towards the swordsmen who stood ranked up between the halbadiers and spearmen, red and green banner fluttering in the stormy air.

“Just be careful, ok?” he shouted after her, hopelessly.

She turned, quickly, her blond hair fanning out as she did, catching the dying rays of the sun as it became obscured by clouds and winked at him, “Always father”. Then she broke into a gallop and jumped off the horse with a lightness that ignored the steel armour that adorned her. The horse trotted obediently back behind the battle lines. The Elector Count caught sight of his son, checking his pistols one last time and loading them. The young man looked up to see Deborah at the front of the swordsmen swinging her sword back this way and that, sharing a joke with them. He looked over to their father and the two men exchanged a look which may have contained a sigh and a laugh all in one.

The horn rang out again and this time was followed by movement ahead of Hochland’s army. The trees at the bottom of the valley began to twitch, before acrid smoke begun to rise from them, black and cloying. Shapes began to emerge from the woodland and Deborah’s mind was immediately back in the coach all those years ago, she felt her heart turn to ice and she shook. Some of the figures were about the size of men, though like before, they were horribly mutated and vial. Some of the creatures though were massive, three times the height of a well-grown man, minotaurs. She had heard of them and hoped that somehow she would not have to face them for no man alone could slay such a monster.

A more musical note flooded out over her head and she realized it was the signal for the Imperial army to move forward and engage the beastmen horde. Battle was upon them. As one the army of Hochland, a sea of green and red began the slow march down the valley…

[wissenlander]

Awesome stuff, Siberius.

So is your commander Deborah or Aldebrand?

I specifically liked the part of Aldebrand feeding the bird and how Deborah had the fear of beastmen that she was determined to overcome.

[Siberius]

Thanks 

Well, the plan is that seeing as I like to mix up my army lists and size that it may vary.

I'm going to have Aldebrand painted up and ready to go for the larger battles but Deborah is going to evole into my smaller-points-battle general, generally leading the swordsmen. As an aside, I'm using one of the Eowen LOTR models as her, I wanted something a little different but not to stand out rediculously. Maybe sometime soon when I've decided how I am gonna flock my bases once and for all I'll post some pics of the army thus far.

When I get round to it there will be more stories too, maybe delving back into her past as a sell sword etc...

Thanks for reading though 

[Siberius]

The three of them sat round the table, drinks left untouched as the conversation became more intensely interesting.

“You mean to tell me that armour is elven forged?” Petr scoffed.

“You asked. I tell you. Does it really look like anything you’ve seen before?” Deborah replied.

“Well of course not… but how in this world did it come into your possession? I can’t believe your father would have anything to do with elves.” It was true that the Elector Count Aldebrand Ludenhof was known as a rigid man, untrusting of other races, even those men from other Imperial provinces!

Deborah laughed wistfully. “Too true my friend. Especially the kind of elf that forged this.”

Both mens’ eyes widened. “Are you saying this was made in that cursed land, Naggoroth?” Varron asked.

Deborah nodded slowly, a gleam in her green eyes, though there was more than mere mischief in that look. A sort of pain was contained there too. For one so young, Deborah had lived a lifetime of adventure. Reconciliation with her father had changed that though. Such a wayward past had been forced to be put behind her and there was much she would never be able to tell those she now fought and lived beside.

Of course, in the right mood, with a little drink inside of her some tales could be coaxed, the bravado of her youth still intact. There was no denying an eager audience.

“Ok lads, here’s a little story that you might not believe… or at the least really wish you didn’t…”

[Derek Contyre]

Nice story 
I am currently drafting a story with Stattenland and Hochland in it, to do with one of the character's I have created. Elayna Contyre.

If you read the creation of Stattenland, I think it is this post it will give you some background on mine

But I am looking forward to the next installment!!!

[Siberius]

Thanks. I think my tales of Deborah Ludenhof will be a somewhat scattered affair picking up here and dropping off there, obviously I actually need to finish this latest thing, hehe, but I'm not going to try and run through her life chronologically.

I'll check out your stuff when I come back on later with a bit more time to sit down, it sounds good. 

[Derek Contyre]

Thanks and no problem.
So your story is running into "the future" timeline?

[Siberius]

My stories are snippets from throughout the lifetime of Deborah Ludenhof, up until the present which will both include tales of her mysterious sell-sword past and accounts of her recent interaction with Hochland's army. Probably the odd dip into her childhood too.

It's going to be more to give some juicy backstory to her, rather than establish my army. After all, she is an enigmatic character and somewhat now the prodigal daughter.

[Siberius]

Ok, can't believe it has been 5 years since I posted in here! It's hard to believe I have even had my Empire army that long...

Anyways, my brother and his wife have been involved in the whole NaNoWriMo thing (basically a novel writing movement, centered around the concept of writing 50.000 words in one month). I've put it off for a long while, but apparently the April version you can choose any length starting from 10,000 words and up. So it is I have begrudgingly agreed to take part, it seems like a good way to finally put some meat on my fluff (that sounds horrible!) and at 333 words a day target it sounds very doable.

Well we are 4 days in now and I am actually way ahead of schedule, which is nice as I may have bad days. It makes me wonder if I could go way far and beyond 10, 000 words though. Well, we shall see. I figured even though it is rough and unedited (editing is frowned upon during the actual writing month as it is supposed to be all about writing) I would post it here too as it grows. It will also act as a handy backup version 

So here is some more of the story of Deborah Ludenhof...

[Siberius]

Deborah Ludenhof


Perhaps in retrospect, it had been a bad idea to give in to the persistent naggings of a 7 year old daughter. Aldebrand Ludenhof was a stern man, on the whole, and famous for it. As Elector of Hochland he regularly commanded noblemen, ruled harshly over his court and sent men to their deaths in battle. But there was a side to him that few knew and even fewer experienced.

As a hunter and fighter himself, and with the perils that the Old World could throw at you any time, he had of course insisted that his daughter be trained in the way of archery. Though she would likely never rule once he was gone, it was important to him that she follow in the family traditions of hunting and courtly prowess.

What he had not banked on was her proficiency with the bow, which she wielded with skill within a few months. Furthermore, he had not realized that she would possess the same stubborn bravado he himself had bore many times. After archery practice, she would always stay on and watch her older brother at his fencing practice. As she mastered the basics of the bow, she grew bored and began to hound him to let her practice at swordplay.

At first of course he had refused. After all, there were many other lessons that vied for the time of a ruler’s daughter, that she might learn how to serve her family well. But even at such a young age she had insisted that she would take the lessons after all her other chores were done, and she was good to her word.

Aldebrand had a soft spot for his daughter that even his son did not command. With Bastian, strictness had always been important. He would one day take his father’s seat with luck, and the Ludenhof name was built on noble strength and tenacity. Bastian was a typical boy who was easily distracted by his friends or stories of war from around the Empire, but he had a good heart for all that.

Deborah was different though, she was fiercely stubborn, quick to anger and had a guile to her that often allowed her to get away with things that would have earned Bastian a stern punishment. She would sneak out of their quarters and roam the city streets, sometimes sitting outside the windows of businesses and just listening to the chatter and gossip. Or perhaps she would make a gang of friends and wind up in trouble when they tried to pull tricks on the soldiers or guards.

Though he knew he should be harder on her, he rarely could find it in his heart to do so, and when he did remind himself of his duty, she would talk her way out of trouble and he took a secret pride in her quick wits.

But maybe if Aldebrand had not relented so easily and insisted that she could not train with the sword, her life may have taken a much quieter route. As it was, she had shown as much skill with the blade, and a great deal more dedication than she had with the bow, though you would not want to be hunted by her with either in truth.

Every evening she was in the yard being tutored by Lucas Baum, the Swordsmaster of Hergig, a middle-aged man who had seen too much war for his years and lost his left arm to the elbow in a skirmish with Orcs in the hills to the south. That had put a damper on his military career and Aldebrand, recognizing his talent, had enrolled him to train his own swordsmen.

Embarrassingly, by the time she was 8 years old, she was a better fencer than her 11 year old brother. He was a dead eye with a pistol though and Aldebrand could already see his future being started with his pistolier regiment. Deborah though was  turning into an artist with a short sword. Even Lucas was running out of new tricks to teach her.

Aldebrand knew she would never be allowed to fight with his armies. No man would allow his daughter to live such a dangerous life. It was an argument they would have again and again as she grew. This was the one point on which Aldebrand Ludenhof would never budge to his daughter’s willful assaults. Over and over she would come at him, each time from a new angle, much like her adept sword work. But every time she would be rebuffed and flee in a huff.

NAME would have an easy passage into the military life, his station getting him a place in the pistoliers, even if his marksmanship had not. But Deborah would never see the field of battle, and Aldebrand Ludenhof slept a sounder sleep each night knowing that…


* * * * * * *

[Siberius]

She wiped the rain out of her eyes and leaned back against the wall. The soldier’s voices were fading now. It was Syman and Bernholt, she knew them well. Two days ago she had knocked Syman on his backside during fencing practice. Their friends had laughed hard and even he had a wry smile on his face as he stood up from the mud. Losing a bout to Deborah Ludenhof had long since lost its embarrassment.

How things could change in two days.

Though, if she looked back, it had been a long time coming, even before that. She was a noble woman from the moment she had been born. A life of courtly ritual and obedience to her husband were certainties one could not escape. That much had been drilled into her time and again by her parents and teachers.

But Deborah was not a bit like her mother. Well, perhaps that was unfair. She had the long blond hair and relaxed nature of her mother. But in every other way she was her father’s daughter. An adventurer, a hunter, a warrior and a leader, not to mention a pair of calculating and oftentimes cold green eyes. She also had his diplomatic skills, though she used them much differently. Where he used his to broker trade deals with other states or bring peace to quarrelling barons, she was more apt to use her guile to persuade the guards to let her into the castle at nighttime when she was a girl, or dig her way out of punishments from her father.

Deep down, her parents knew it, though they would never admit as much to themselves. Deborah was to follow in the family footsteps, even if she fought it with every ounce of her being.

So why was she hunched in the doorway of a shabby inn on the outskirts of Hergig well after dusk? Why was she being searched for by those soldiers that had two days ago been her friends? Well it had all started about three months prior…


It was the usual start to the day. Irene Ludenhof, Deborah’s tall willowy mother entered her room and threw open the shutters. Deborah had buried her head under the blankets as she always did but Irene had stayed unusually quiet. On any other day she would have teased and cajoled her daughter to get her up. Today though she sat at the end of the bed quietly. After a few moments of wondering what her mother’s new game might be, Deborah had poked her head out and saw concern written on her mother’s face.

“What is it?”

Her mother looked down and busied herself with the ornate sleeves of her gown. “You know we have always told you that the day would come when you would have to do your duties as a member of the family, don’t you.” She trailed off and Deborah felt a shiver down her spine.

“Yes, but that’s the future, right?” The chill was turning to fire now. She could feel what was coming. She had dreaded it for years, but whilst it always loomed, it had always seemed like it would never come. Not when there was so much more she wanted to do.

“You are 16 Deborah, the future is here. Your future is here. You know your father and I have had visitors this past week.”

How could she not? The Von Raukovs had travelled south with much fanfare. Outwardly a diplomatic visit to shore up the good relationship the two states had shared for many years, there had been quite a few private meetings between the two heads of their families, Valmir von Raukov and Aldebrand Ludenhof.

“Well there has been much to discuss but it transpires that the von Raukovs feel their political position is slipping. They want to bind our two states together in a more permanent and tighter way. They want a marriage between our families.”

“But all of his sons are either married, dead or bastards!” she spat. Where was this leading?

“True enough, though you would be as well not to say such things in their presence.” Her mother’s usually kindly face took on a hardness and she looked Deborah in the eyes for the first time since they had started speaking. “It is not a son Valmir wants you to wed, it is his younger brother.”

“Younger? Ha! By a year or two if that! And he is so…odd.”

Casimir von Raukov was an ostentatious and effete man. His pale face always seemed to bare a smirk, as though everything he surveyed were beneath him. Deborah had only met him once or twice before, on previous state visits, but she had often observed him at feasts and other gatherings. He had a nasty disposition, backhanding serving maids who did not pour his drinks to his liking and kicking the lower bred townsfolk out of his way as he walked the streets.

“It is no wonder he is still not married, what woman would have him? This is a joke you and father are playing on me, right?” There was no way they would marry her off to such a man as that.

Her mother started to play with her sleeve again. “Deborah, I wish that it were.” Well that was no lie, Deborah saw a tear trickle out of her mother’s eye and slide slowly down her cheek. “We wanted to marry you to one of your father’s lord’s sons, but, well, sometimes plans do not turn out as you imagined.”

The anger was turning to dread now. This was no joke. They really did mean to marry her to that man. Deborah had never seen herself as getting married young. She had dreamt of leaving Hochland for a few years when she came of age and travelling, perhaps living the life of an adventurer. Joining a band of soldiers and protecting villages from Orc raids, or seeking out treasures that the townsfolk always talked about.

“Why him? Why now?”

“He is a powerful man Deborah, in his own right. Truth be told, I suspect he forced Valmir’s hand in the matter. We have always had a good relationship with Valmir and I don’t think he ever would have dared ask such a favour  for his own benefit. I wonder if Casimir threatened to pull his men from Valmir’s armies. As I said, he is a powerful man and near a third of Valmir’s army is made up from his brother’s own levies. Such a loss would be devastating.”

“That does not explain why you and father agreed!”

“You know why, daughter. Your schooling has seen to that.”

Now that a cold calmness had settled upon her now, she realized she did know. Hochland was a small state, admittedly with reasonable political clout. But small non the less, and surrounded by powerful neighbours. Middenland and Ostland were both much larger and with warlike Elector Counts who were not to be crossed. Von Raukov was a friend of the family, but was always looking for a reason to mount up his knights and ride into battles. Boris Todbringer of Middenland was a very similar type of man.

Hochland relied heavily on their friendship not just to keep their political place, but also in the constant fight against raiding armies, be they Orcs coming down from the mountains or Beastmen storming out of the thick forests that covered most of Hochland. Aldebrand could not pass up the opportunity to forge a bond that would last for years to come.

“Deborah, I know you well enough to know that you are hating this, but please understand that there is more at stake here than feelings and wants. This afternoon there will be a feast to announce the plans and I need you to be the woman I know you can be. For your father and I, for your family and your homeland.”

Deborah had already envisioned and rejected a hundred arguments she could throw at her mother. Somehow she knew that this time her charms and quick tongue would do no good. Whilst her temper was quick and blazing hot, she had her father’s ability to resort to calculating calmness when need be.

She looked her mother in the eyes and nodded sullenly. Irene smiled sadly and gently touched her daughter’s face with her fingers. “You know your father was a few years older than me when I was promised to him. I know it scares you, but you can find happiness if you put your heart and soul into it.” Deborah noticed her mother look down as she said those last words.

Yes, you may have found some kind of happiness with my father, but you know as well as I do that Casimir is a different kind of man than him. There was no honour or fairness in those cold eyes. They both knew that Deborah was looking at a long sad life. Another tear rolled down Irene’s face as she turned and left her daughter to dark thoughts and a darker future.

*******

[Siberius]

The morning had come and gone in a haze of frantic servants running back and forth, her mother coming and going and being fit into the over-elaborate gown that had somehow appeared just for this occasion. All the while Deborah had felt the coldness build in her. It felt as though days passed in that morning, and yet suddenly the afternoon was there. Time could be a strange thing.

The great hall had been decked out in both Hochland and Ostland banners she noted, carefully balanced so as not to offend their guests. She was led into the hall by her mother, holding tight to her arm as though worried she might escape, though in reality it was more likely she was near as tense as her daughter.

The tables were packed as tight as she could remember with all manner of folk. Some she recognized, their warm smiles seeming to pass right through her. Others were strangers, nobles who had come out of the woodwork to show their loyalty to her father, only to slink back to their homes afterwards, not to be heard from until the next banquet, and members of the Ostland party, their pied coats in stark contrast to the red and green of the Hochlanders.

As they approached the head table her head turned to take in who sat there. Family members and important dignitaries made up the outer seats whilst in the middle sat her brother, beside whom was Valmir von Raukov, an intimidating man who seemed to be sharing a joke with her sibling. Bastian had a knack for diplomacy, even at his young age, which pleased her parents greatly.

Right in the centre, below the great tapestry bearing the Ludenhof coat of arms sat Casamir and her father, Aldebrand. He had not come to see her the whole morning. She knew why. He was avoiding what he was suspecting would be a torrent of rage. That rage bubbled up now and she concentrated on the Ostlander to keep it from her mind. Casamir was looking at her appraisingly, but not with the ogling eyes she was accustomed to from the soldiers of the castle. Instead he reminded her of her father inspecting a horse he was to purchase. It made her hate him more.

The two men stood, followed hastily by the rest of the top table as she and her mother made their way around to the seats. Casamir bowed low and stiffly, and motioned for her to take the seat beside him, whilst her mother sat next to her father.

As she sat, so did everyone else. If she had not been so preoccupied with her impending situation it would have felt very odd. Up until this point, she had been Aldebrand’s youngest. She was well loved by the soldiers who felt she was an honoury member of their guard, and by the people of Hochland too as Aldebrand’s beautiful daughter. But nothing more than that. Never had she been the centre of attention like this.

The minstrels struck up the music and the servers began to bring in the food. Conversation seemed to spark from silence and at once be a merry chatter.

Casamir leaned over to her and spoke in a queer high voice.

“My lady, I am pleased to make your acquaintance properly. My apologies for the haste with which all these plans have come together and regret our not having had more time to get to know one another.” He did not look like he cared in the slightest. His breath smelled sweet, like perfume. It was disconcerting at such close proximity.

Up close she was able to observe him properly. His eyes were dark brown, almost black and were as cold as ice. His face was lined more than her father’s and was pointed. He had a small black beard under his lower lip, combed to a point. She had to catch herself from jerking back away from him.

She looked at her father who seemed to be talking nervously with his mother. She was unaccustomed to seeing him this way, especially in public. He looked right back at her and inclined his head towards Casamir , begging her with his eyes to be courteous and reply.

“I too am pleased, my Lord,” she replied quietly, looking at the floor.

And then everything seemed to happen in the blink of an eye.

She felt his hand under the table latch onto her thigh and he squeezed tightly as he leaned closer and whispered “Listen girl, you do as you are told and act like a proper lady as you have been taught, give me children and keep my house in order and all will be well. If not… well let’s just remember it is a long way from Hergig to Schonfeld and much can happen to a young girl far from her home and family.”

All the while he smiled as if whispering a gentle joke in her ear. “Do you get my meaning?” he hissed. His hand moved further up her leg and squeezed even tighter.

Shock flooded her for a moment and then instinct kicked in. Her left hand swept across the tablecloth infront of her and the picked up the first thing it encountered. If then plunged that item as fast as it could into the shoulder of Casamir von Raukov. His grip loosened and his eyes widened all at the same time. There was a gasp from her mother and others close by as blood began to stain the white of his doublet.

Deborah looked down at her hand. In it was a sharp knife, blade perhaps three inches long. The blade was red to the handle. She dropped the knife and leapt backwards, her seat tumbling to the ground. Now everyone was looking at her again. At her and the man she had just stabbed. His eyes were rolling wildly in their sockets as the shock rendered him immobile. It didn’t last long though.

“You stabbed me, girl. What… Where…” He turned towards his brother and her father as he pushed a hand to try and stem the flow of blood from the ragged wound. “Don’t just sit there!”

But that was exactly what Aldebrand was doing. The usually stoic face agape and looking from the bleeding man to his daughter’s blood dripping hand. He seemed unable to move.

Valmir was not so slow to action though. He stood up and looked to his guards. Most of the Ostland men had left their weapons outside the hall as befitted a feast in a friend’s home, but he was an Elector Count and his bodyguards would never disarm. There were five of them who stood silently a few feet behind the head table.

“She has attacked my brother, disarm her and bring her here.” They jumped to action, drawing swords. Deborah did not know what would happen now, but she knew it would not end well. She threw a look towards her family. Her brother looked confused, her mother’s eyes were full of fear and her father just stared at her, still apparently rendered speechless. And with that, she made her decision. Run. She must run.

At best Casamir would recover and force her to marry him. What would have been a cruel loveless marriage would become a torture filled life. At worst the Ostlanders would demand she be punished to the full extent of the law. After all, they would argue, she murdered a member of their ruling family. A life for a life.

Casamir made a feeble grab for her arm. His face was pale and there was blood at the corner of his lips. She evaded him easily and started for the door. Two of the burly guardsmen blocked the exit. Two more were circling around behind her and the fifth made to reach out and capture her. He expected a noble girl, a feeble lady who would struggle weakly as he held on to her. What he did not expect was her to duck under his arm, pull his sword from it’s scabbard and crack it’s pommel into the side of his unprotected head. A muffled grunt of surprise was all he gave as he fell at her side.

The two guards in the doorway were not going to be so easily fooled, but she had to act fast or the men behind her would trap her. She swung the sword in an arc from above the leftmost guard. He parried the blow with his own sword and made ready to make an attack of his own. Men were slow though. Lucas had taught her that, and how to take advantage of it too. She threw herself at his knees and his legs buckled, bent backwards painfully. As she went down, her leg swept out and took the legs of the other guard. It took less than a second but both guards were on their backs.

The others were running to make up the ground but it was too late, she was out of the door and running through the grounds. All she could hear was her father’s voice, apparently he had found it now, calling out over and over “Deborah, come back.” But she never would. She loved her family, but he had betrayed her to a vile man who was more monster than man and had not even had the courage to come and tell her himself. Deborah Ludenhof would never return to Hergig, or her father’s lands she vowed to herself.

Where she would go she had no idea. So she ran, out into the streets, to cower in alleys and doorways until she could evade her father’s men and make good her escape. She was alone now and adventure was about to find her whether she wanted it or not. Though it would be nothing like she had imagined all those years…

[Siberius]

Hmm. Just realised I have given her brother two names in the two incarnations of my stories. Guess i might have to solidify a few things and write them down somewhere handy for reference! 

[Siberius]

So what now?

Deborah slumped back as the soldiers’ footsteps faded. Rain continued to patter off the doorframe she sat in. She was drenched from head to foot, her blond hair plastered to her neck and the impractical gown her mother had conjured up was a wreck, mudspattered and weighing her down. In her haste to get away she had already ripped the beaded train many times. She tore at the fabric around her knees and though expensive, it was not made to endure, it was made to look beautiful. It came away easily and she flung the remnants behind her into the alley.

At least now she was unhampered, but trying to make good her escape in this was never going to work. The word would be out come morning, notices put up to entice townsfolk to keep an eye out for her, no doubt for a handsome reward. Muddy and torn it may be, but the dazzling red and green still showed through and the beading was far too elaborate to blend in.

She felt her neck, the necklace Irene had begged her to wear were still there. That was good news indeed. It could buy her a way out of the city. Uto! Perhaps that was her way out of town. Gruben’s was a pawn shop near the city centre. Though her parents were unaware of it, she had been there many a time with her street friends. Uto Gruben was seen by many as a curmudgeonly and stingy man. For the most part they were right. But Deborah knew better. She had seen him rip off many an out of luck merchant as they sobbed into their flowery kerchiefs. He treated the lowly folk, and those he deemed more honourable more fairly though. It was his own form of chivalry she supposed. He never argued with his reputation though as it would put him out of business were he seen to be kindly.

Deborah stood up stiffly, the flight from the castle had not been easy, and poked her head out into the main street. Rain continued to lash down from the sky and that was as well for her. There was not a soul out there. She had kicked off the ridiculous shoes as soon as she as out of the door of the main hall and so she ran barefoot back into town and toward Gruben’s.

It took her a good half an hour to reach his shop. It was small up front, but extended into a much wider rear section, full to brimming with anything you could think of. He left it guarded at nighttime by a hulking dog that he liked to joke was more wolf than hound. Most thieves would be ripped apart before they knew he was upon them, but Heiko knew Deborah well. She hoped that it would be likewise in the dark, unannounced.

The facing of his shop was locked up and the windows barred. Gruben was not unprepared. She stole round to the back alley and looked up. The back door did not even have an outside latch and she knew that. The only window the to store room was high and small. A man would never fit through it, but a sixteen your old girl… she could only hope.

 Climbing the wonky drainpipe was easy enough, though it was in enough disrepair to make her nervous the whole thing would come away from the wall. She was spry, but a fall from near the top would likely mean a broken limb and the end of her plans. The supporting wall beam was badly built into the structure and allowed enough overhand for her to get both feet on it, albeit sideways. She edged slowly along to the window, the rain and grime made the wood slick. When she reached the window she saw it was locked, Udo never opened it. But the lock was accessible from the outside. She had pulled all the pins from her hair as she hid in the doorway earlier and now she stuck one into the lock.

A couple of years earlier she had seen one of her street friends, Wort, do exactly this when they broke into the bakers to steal a couple of fresh loaves. She had watched carefully, as she always did, and observed the way he wiggled the pin up and down and left to right until it clicked open. She discovered that he had obviously made it look a lot easier than it was as she struggled to make any headway. Eventually though it clicked open and she swung the small window open with a leap of joy in her heart for the first time that day.

Deborah pulled herself inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within. In time she saw that there was a huge old bed not far from the window. Not seeing any other way down she could only leap and hope that it was as soft as it looked from up here. She pulled the window shut again, counted to three and jumped.

The bed was indeed soft, but apparently the frame was rotten too. With an earsplitting crash it collapsed and she with it. As she struggled to rise from the sheets she felt teeth around her neck and a low growling. “Heiko” she gasped, “It’s me!” There was a slight loosening of the jaws and she sucked in air. She put her hand up to his nose and he sniffed. Then the teeth were gone and his tongue was lapping at her face. She laughed and rose gingerly.

“Hey, who’s there?” came a stern voice. She heard the scraping of a sword as it was pulled from it’s scabbard and then the faint light of a candle came flickering into sight. It was followed by a large shadowy figure.

“Udo, it’s me!” He slowed his steps and held the candle out, sword leveled. “It’s Deborah.” she added hurriedly.

“No, can’t be.” He replied uncertainly. As the light encircled them both though, it illuminated her sodden figure and his confused face. “What in Sigmar’s name are you doing here? You’re the last person I expected to see. Wait a minute, aren’t you supposed to be up at the castle getting married or something?”

“Huh, word travels fast I see” she said as he lowered his sword. “But no, it was just a feast to announce it and…” her head dropped and she felt misery overwhelm her.

Udo was not a man comfortable with emotions. “There now, what happened? I’ve never seen you so downcast.” He replaced the sword in it’s scabbard and from nowhere produced a blanket which he wrapped around her.

“I don’t have time to explain Udo” she implored, “But I’m in big trouble and I need to leave. Right now.” His confused expression turned to stunned disbelief.

“You’re the Count’s daughter. You don’t just leave.”

“I can and I will” she retorted defiantly. “I don’t have a choice Udo. And I need your help. As you can see, I had to leave in a hurry. I have nothing with me and I need supplies.”

He leaned back against an ancient beam and looked thoughtful. “Am I going to regret helping you?” he asked carefully.

“I hope not… but… well, I don’t know. If you knew what happened… ah, but nobody else does. Nobody knows I am here, and as long as you keep it that way I don’t see why any harm should come to you. And… I can pay you for what I need.”

She held out the necklace and he took it in one hand, looking closely at it, the thoughtful expression still there. After a moment he thrust it back at her. She began to protest but he spoke over her. “Look, you’re the Count’s daughter and close to a friend as I have so I will not accept payment. Take what you need, I can spare a few things. This is a family heirloom anyway. My possessing it would be dangerous in and of itself if it ever got found.”

She had not considered that. Everyone would know she had been wearing it that night. If he was found with it, he would surely be questioned and hanged. She felt foolish, but grateful too. She jumped up and hugged the big man tightly as he squirmed uncomfortably.

“Just promise me one thing,” he added as he beckoned Heiko to him and began to walk away. “Promise that some day you will come back here and give me the full story.”

“Of course” she gave a weak smile as he faded into the dark room. It was a lie of course. She was never coming back. But it would content him.

Time was pushing on and she had to be out of the city before daylight. A much more thorough search would be made once Hergig awoke and avoiding her father’s men would be nigh impossible.

She began to rummage around in the junk that was piled high in every direction. She found an old travelling cloak, made for a man, but far less conspicuous than her ornate dress, and threw it around her. There was a pile of weaponry in one corner and she picked through it quickly, straining hard to discern the quality of old blades in the candlelight. She settled on a short sword, which had rusted slightly on one side, but felt balanced in her hand and a bow made of red oak. It was slung onto a quiver full of arrows. She would need to hunt for food.

As she made for the door, she tripped over a pair of boots. They were very worn, but fit well enough. She fumbled around the door till she found the latch, pushed it open and slipped out into the darkness and rain.

[Siberius]

Getting out of the city had been simple enough in the end. Soldiers were not subtle when they made searches. They would clomp up and down the streets chattering to each other, not considering how useful stealth could be when you were looking for someone who did not want to be found. But then they were not made for that kind of work she supposed. They were made for loud training yards and the battlefield.

The hardest part had been crossing the wall. The gatekeepers had obviously been alerted and had been checking everybody who left Hergig. Deborah had huddled down a few houses from the eastern gate trying to come up with a plan. Quarter of an hour had passed and she was no closer to escaping when an old wagon had trundled up the road. She watched the soldiers inspect it carefully. They were thorough, but foolishly after checking it, they both walked back around the front of the cart to talk to the owner.

She knew she had just a few seconds, but Deborah was quick on her feet. She jumped up and sprinted, catlike to the rear of the wagon and jumped into the back. Under the canvas roof, she found barrels and supplies. Hunching down behind one of the larger barrels, she held her breath as the large gates creaked open and the cart rattled out towards freedom. The guards never even turned to look at it as they closed the gates. Her father would be furious, though he would not know where to direct it. She suspected the entirety of his guard staff were in for some harsh words.

It was dawn before she moved. The city had passed out of sight an hour or two before but she had no destination in mind, no plan of any kind, so why not allow herself to be driven a small ways. There were two men up front. One sounded ancient, the other perhaps his son or grandson. They chattered on about what had happened, wondering what had warranted the guard’s behaviour, and then into idle talk about the prices of goods in town.

Deborah must make a move now though before she was discovered. If they found her, at  best she could get away from them, but they would likely turn back to tell the guards they had a stowaway. It would help her father’s search to know where she had exited the city. She poked her head out of the back flap of the cart and looked around. They were moving slowly up a dusty road that seemed devoid of any houses. Trees lined one side, fields the other. She waited until the two men up front were in a particularly heated discussion about the Orc raids of late and then slipped out onto the road, leaping into the brushy cover.

She had not realized quite how hungry she was until she smelled the bread the two men had sitting in the back of the cart. Feeling terrible, she had slipped a couple of rolls and some cheese into the pouches of the travelling cloak she now wore. She had filled a skin with a little of the wine they had in the barrel too. For a moment she thought about leaving the necklace as payment, but Udo’s words came back to her. That had the potential to be more trouble than good to them.

As the cart rumbled into the distance and the sun broke over the countryside, she sat with her back to a tree and munched on the wonderful warm bread, wondering what on earth she should do now…

*******

The last three days had been uneventful for the most part. Deborah had struck out through the trees alongside the road, never letting it leave her sight for long. The only time she pushed further into the woods was when she heard travelers and even then only if it was a large group. When wagons passed she would keep out of sight but listen as well as she could in an attempt to glean any more information about the aftermath of her actions.

It was fruitless though. The only times she heard it mentioned, the talk was either vague or completely inaccurate, rumours passed from one man to another. One old lady told her husband how she had heard from a street seller that the Count’s daughter had murdered 5 men and stolen her father’s Runefang before fleeing.

Eventually she had passed a couple of small villages and the concerns of the folk there were much simpler. They did not have the same worries about what happened with the noble folk.

She wondered how far reaching her father’s search would be. Certainly she was far enough from Hergig that none of the locals should know her face, but that did not mean she should take chances. As she sat hungrily at the edge of another small town, she resolved that she would need to reenter the world at some point.

But she was a young woman, a stranger with long blonde hair and green eyes. That could get her noticed. She took her sword and chopped best as she could at her hair. It was matted and dark, bathing along the road was not an easy task. After a while she was surrounded by dirty tufts and her hair came down only to her chin. It was a mess, but all the better for that. The cloak was her best defence against detection. It was drab and hooded. She pulled the hood up over her head, slung her weapons and left the cover of the woods, strolling cautiously towards the town inn.

*******

The sign had fallen into the street but was still just about readable. The Faithful Hound was an impressive establishment. Though only so much in that it was still standing. Deborah took a deep breath and pushed open the door. As she stepped in, an odor of old wine and unwashed bodies greeted her nose. She had expected all those inside to turn and stare at her, but aside from a few cursory glances, she was largely ignored. She reminded herself that she was no longer dressed for a fine banquet.

It was lunch time and many of the local workers had come in to rest their feet and see how much beer they could get down before they were called back to the fields. She saw  an empty table in the corner of the room and slipped down beside it as nonchalantly as she could muster.

She peered around from beneath the hooded cloak and took in the room. It was fairly large, with a bar taking up the entirety of the far wall. Most of the patrons seemed local, though she noticed a few soldiers at one table, in the red and green of Hochland. She turned her seat so as they could not see her directly.

Another table contained the most noteworthy patrons. A tall male in ranger’s leathers sat talking to a stocky Dwarf. Deborah had seen a few Dwarfs in her time at Hergig. Aldebrand was a prudent man and everyone knew that Dwarfs were the finest craftsmen. He had a good relationship with a locally settled family of Dwarfs who would help out with large or elaborate building projects. But he would always remind his children that while Dwarfs were honourable, their love of gold and notion of fair contracts should always be kept in mind. “Never cross a Dwarf” he would say solemnly.

The barkeep, a wide man with an elaborate curled moustache, bustled over to her table and asked what she wanted. She realized with an inward groan that she still had no money and instead pulled out the two rabbits she had hunted down that morning. He gave her a puzzled look, but agreed that they were worth a meal and drinks. He waddled back over a few minutes later with a mug of ale and a bowl of what he called meat stew. She grazed on it slowly and set herself to listening once more.

To her alarm the soldiers were telling the dwarf and his tall friend all about the commotion in Hergig. Their version of events was much more true to the reality she had experienced. When they got to the part where she had stabbed Casamir and floored 3 men to make her escape, the Dward roared with laughter and slammed his fist on the table.

“Three Imperial fighting men bested by a nobleman’s daughter, ay, that sounds about right,” he quipped. The soldiers who relayed the tale looked set aback but their offence was only minor. After all they had been Ostlanders. The interstate rivalries were the stuff of legend and Deborah did not doubt that the Hochland soldiers were secretly proud of her.

She craned her neck to hear the end of the story though, intently curious as to what her punishment was to have been. But the soldier did not mention it, only that there was a price on her head, to be brought back to Hergig alive. He emphasized that last word strongly. It was not much consolation though, that probably just meant they wanted to try her before they sentenced her.

“So what are you two up to?” the soldier asked on completion of his own story. The Dwarf had obviously been enlivened by the entertainment he found in their tale. Between that and the copious amount of beer he was pouring down himself he was happy to share.

“Ah old Talwin and I? We’re on the lookout for work, but it seems your Count Ludenhof keeps things in good order around these parts, his daughter aside.” Another rumbling laugh. “And so it is we travel south. Mayhaps Stirland will serve us better. There is always trouble there. And where there is trouble is where we work the best.”

He gave a huge wink and turned to the barkeep to demand more ale. His friend shifted uncomfortably in his seat, obviously less than pleased at the Dwarf’s loose tongue.

[Siberius]

In time the village men began to drift out of the door and back to work. The Dwarf and his friend rose too, said a cheery farewell to the soldiers who returned the good nature, and made for the exit. At that moment an idea swept over Deborah and she had to restrain herself from jumping up that instant.

Instead, she waited until a calm chatter had come over the establishment once more and then slipped through the door herself. Once outside, she shielded her eyes from the bright sun light and looked around the square. The Dwarf and his companion had slung their packs and were heading for the main road. She walked to the trees and began to follow them, quietly as possible.

Her stalking and hunting skills proved to be invaluable and she was able to keep close to them throughout the entire day. They did not seem to be in a hurry and talked on and off, the Dwarf doing the lion’s share of the speaking. He joked often and whilst she never heard the tall man laugh, the Dwarf seemed to find himself amusing enough for the both of them.

Come nightfall they made camp in a clearing to the side of the road, starting a fire and heating up what she suspected was some of the left over meat stew from the inn. She shimmied up a low tree and was able to lean back comfortably onto a large branch. The sky was clear and stars shimmered above her. She found herself drifting to sleep after an hour or two. The tall man took the first watch and she could hear the Dwarf’s snores from up in the tree as she fell asleep.

And then suddenly she was jolted awake. Everything seemed as it had been and initially she wondered what had awakened her. But then she heard rustling directly beneath her tree. Rustling, grunts and a faint clanking. She looked down and saw the vague shape of hulking figures walking towards the clearing. There must be at least ten, maybe a dozen or so. Though what they were was a mystery until they broke the tree line and the dying firelight illuminated them. Green skin and rusted mail left no doubt, Orcs.

The tall man kicked his companion and jumped to his feet, sword appearing as if from nowhere, in his hand. The Dwarf rolled over and picked up his axe on the way up to his feet. They stood side by side as the Orcs rushed towards them. More and more poured into the light and Deborah feared they would make short work of the two comrades.

As the first Orcs reached them though, she realized these were fighters, they did not panic and turn their backs but instead raised their weapons and met them head on. The Dwarf’s axe took an Orc’s head clean off it’s shoulders before it had even swung it’s weapon, whilst the man became locked in combat with another. She watched in amazement at the Dwarf’s prowess. He was already eyeing up the next opponent before the one he was engaged with had fallen. In a matter of moments five orcs lay around him. His companion had slain one and was beset by two more.

She had thought all the greenskins were in the clearing now but the snap of a twig beneath her brought her gaze down once more. One more figure was stepping slowly into the light. Not quite as large as the others, never the less it had a presence about it that non of the others did. She guessed it must be their leader. Filthy red and yellow rags hung from it as clothes and in it’s hand was a large knobly staff. Was she still groggy from sleep or did it seem to glow faintly.

Three more Orcs had fallen to the Dwarf and the leader stepped closer. Bizzarely if began to hop from foot to foot, raising it’s staff and chanting. The Dwarf slowed and put a hand to his head. The Orc chanted louder and the Dwarf’s axe fell. She looked on in dismay. The tall man shared her shock, he fought his way over to his friend and fended off blows as best he could but the few Orcs left saw the tide turning and seemed reinvigorated.

Deborah realized she must act. She unslung her bow and had nocked an arrow in a heartbeat and aimed down through the leaves at what she now knew to be a Shaman. His full concentration was on the spell he was chanting, though he continued to hop around. She closed one eye, slowed her breathing and let fly.

The arrow entered his head and protruded from his mouth. A gargled cry erupted from him and in an instant the energy that had been flowing from him to the Dwarf ended. The light of his staff seemed snuffed out and the attacking orcs looked around wildly. She loosed an arrow and it took one through the neck.

Only three were left now and their courage was failing. The Dwarf had staggered back to his feet and retrieved his axe. They turned back, took one look at his enraged face and thought better of it. They tried to flee but the two companions cut down the closest two and Deborah placed an arrow in the chest of the final Orc and he fell over his leader’s corpse, dead.

The Dwarf and the tall man continued to hold their weapons ready. “You can come down now” the Dwarf called. “Give us trouble though and you will wish you had not.”

[Siberius]

“Or I could just shoot you from up here” Deborah offered.

“Ay, you could at that,” the Dwarf laughed. “If we give you our names and a promise we won’t harm you, then will you come down?”

She dropped down from the tree lightly and walked out from the undergrowth. On seeing her small figure, the two companions lowered their weapons. The tall man walked back to the fire and stoked the embers which shed a little more light on the three of them.

“This man here is named Talwin Bohrn. My own is Goli Karraghorn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Up close the Dwarf seemed older than she had thought. Not ancient, but certainly he had seen many years. Light scars marked his face here and there and his braided brown beard reached down to his knees. His clothes were spattered with orc blood but appeared to be a dark green and olive.

Talwin was middle aged with a face that looked like it rarely left the frowning position. He reminded her of one of her father’s hunting hawks, angular and fierce. He wore leathers and it made his birthplace hard to discern. His belts and sword sheaf were quite ornate though. He did not seem like he came from a poor family.

“And your name is? And come to mention it where did you appear from tonight! You were at the inn earlier today weren’t you… yes I remember now, over in the corner.” He leaned his elbow on the large single bladed axe and looked at her carefully, though her hood was still up.

“As for my name, that is my own business. I have followed you all day. Truth be told, I am looking to leave Hochland and travel. I overheard you talking about doing the same thing and wanted to see what kind of people you were, maybe join you?”

At this the big man spoke up. “That will not be happening, girl,” he said, emphasizing the last word. “We do not travel with women and certainly not with one who won’t tell us her name.”

Deborah shifted her feet, unsure what to do next, but the Dwarf spoke up again. “Ah come on Talwin, she did just save our lives. And tracked us for 6 hours without either of us noticing. Might be that she’ll be a nice diversion from the monotony of talking to each other. Besides… I know her name well enough.” He turned back to her, gaze penetrating. “Unless I am much mistaken, this is that Count’s daughter, a Ludenhof!”

Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she stepped back, drawing her sword quickly. Neither of them looked to raise their weapons though.

“Thought so,” the Dwarf chuckled. “No offence to you miss, but a peasant girl with your skills looking to leave her home state. Not likely. And what skills you have. You are a dead eye with that bow of yours. My head felt like it was about to explode, probably was.”

Their lack of threat made her lower her sword slightly. “You don’t mean to take me back to my father?” She asked warily.

“Why should we?” Talwin asked. “We are not his men, we have no allegiance to Hochland and capturing a young girl to drag her wailing to her family is not the kind of work that we take on, however good the reward.”

“Besides,” Goli added with a smile on his face, “I really can’t be bothered with going back the way we just came. We are not soldiers, or guards, we do not serve any master besides ourselves. We wander the land and look for employ, either by Barons who need mercenaries to help drive of invaders or perhaps to help out their armies. We have been many places and seen many things. But you are just a girl, for all your noble blood, are you ready for more of this?” He gestured widely with his arms at the fallen orcs.

“Yes,” she replied quickly. And at that moment she was. The adrenaline when the orcs attacked was still pumping through her veins. It was just the sort of adventure she had imagined for all those years of sword practice and dreaming in her room.

The tall man looked at the Dwarf and shrugged. “Well, if that’s  the way you want it, so be it, but you know if the Hochlanders ever catch on that Ludenhof’s daughter is travelling with us you know there will be a price on our heads too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Goli chortled. He began to wipe the orcs thick blood from his axe on the grass.

She stepped forward into the brighter light and lowered her hood. Her dirty blond hair framed her face and her green eyes shone out in the firelight. She slung her bow over her shoulder and held out a hand. “I am Deborah Ludenhof, though I best not hear you call me that!”

Goli smiled, winked and gripped her hand firmly. Talwin did likewise, though his smile was far from enthusiastic and his eyes seemed cold. “Don’t worry lass,” said Goli. “He’ll warm to you… well, a little maybe.”

“Well, we best get our things together and get moving,” Talwin said commandingly, “Where there are some orcs, there are often more in the area. Not to mention you are being searched for in these parts. Put that hood back up and lets get moving. The less you speak when we run into others, the better. We will say you are my daughter and that should make most folks ignore you if you keep your head down.”

The two companions gathered their equipment in a matter of minutes and turned back to the road. Deborah had nothing else to pick up and so they began their journey proper. The sky was just starting to turn from black to a rich dark blue as they left the orc corpses behind them for the wolves to deal with.

*******

The treck into the dawn hours had been free of conversation. Even the talkative Dwarf had kept to himself. Deborah guessed they all had a lot of thinking to do with this change of circumstances. For her part she liked the Dwarf well, he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve and his disposition was overall positive. His friend though was another matter. He was tough to read and she suspected heavily that were the Dwarf not so keen on her that he would never have given in to her request.

What worried her most was how easily the Dwarf had seen her for who she was. Admittedly he had been right, how many young ladies would travel by themselves along the dangerous roads of the Empire, yet alone wield a bow like she could. What she needed was time. She would be on everyone’s mind right now, the topic of barroom gossip throughout Hochland. But give it a few weeks, a few months, people would forget, maybe assume she had died or been smuggled back to Hergig.

She hoped these two were honorable. Her father had always told her not to trust mercenaries. They were all about money. She wondered if at some point over the coming days she would wake to find herself bound and on her way back to Aldebrand. But these two seemed… they just did not fit what she envisioned when she thought of mercenaries. Yes the Dwarf was boisterous and had openly bragged about moving on to go where the money was in the inn, but he had a kindly manner. Talwin was sullen but did not seem like he would be devious.

She could not put her finger on it but she wanted to trust these two. Only time would tell if it was a mistake. All she knew was that travelling alone was not viable. Had those orcs come upon her out on the road she would be dead and eaten by now. If the soldiers walked up a lone girl with no story in the wilderness, it would not take much to put two and two together as the Dwarf had. Goli and Talwin were her way out of Hochland and she would just have to hope they would be true to their word…

“Breakfast” Goli called suddenly, making her jump. He sat beside the road and rustled around in his packs, producing a few hunks of bread and some apples. Deborah accepted an apple eagerly and chewed on the old bread too. They had not passed a soul in the early morning hours. The sun had climbed now above the trees and whilst warm, the cool breeze made for a very pleasant feeling. She sat down on a stump and stretched her legs. Talwin remained standing, looking up and down the road.

“So did you do it?” Goli asked gently. More gently than anything else he had said since they had met the day before. She did not have to ask what he meant by “it”. Instead she nodded, not meeting his eye. Talwin continued to look up the road, but she could tell he was paying attention.

“Got past an Elector’s bodyguard?” the tall man asked without turning. She smiled at that and the Dwarf shared her humour.

“Guardsmen are big and clumsy. Just what you want out on the battlefield with plenty of room I’m sure. But in close quarters they were never going to get their hands on me.” The Dwarf guffawed and even Talwin seemed to look less fierce momentarily.

“But you stabbed the Count’s brother?” the tall man pressed.

“Yes. I… it all happened so fast.” The tale poured out of her as they ate and drank. If these were to be her travelling partners, they needed to know what had happened. She owed them that, with a price on her head. Once she had finished there were a few moments of silence as they took it all in.

“Hmm,” the Dwarf summed up eventually. “By my reckoning you did the right thing there. Sounds like a devil of a man.”

“Oh he is,” Talwin chimed in unexpectedly turning to face her again for the first time since she had spoken.

“You know him?” Deborah asked, shocked.

“I have encountered him a few times, shall we say.” Talwin said cryptically, turning back away from her. She waited for more, but he had gone quiet again. She turned to the Dwarf but he just shrugged and started packing up ready to move on.

“I’ve known Talwin for a good ten years or so now,” Goli said. What he did before then I do not know and our code has always been not to question each other on our pasts. That’s all you’ll get out of him I’ll warrant.”

Deborah looked back at him and wondered at the circumstances of their  meeting. She wondered too whether Casimir still lived. That information had not reached her yet. Did it matter any more? Either way she was not going back!

*******

[Siberius]

Two days of travelling saw them pass into Talebecland. The terrain continued to be dense forest for the most part. The three of them agreed to skirt around Talabheim, the huge city which lay on the border between this province and her own. Crossing the border that left Hochland behind her had been a weight off her shoulders. It was not that she was not still at threat of being caught, but leaving her father’s lands felt like a huge step.

None of them wanted any news of her whereabouts to reach Aldebrand though and spending time in a the big city just seemed like a mistake. The first village they stopped at was Uckrofurt. It was a pitiful place, barely more than a hamlet as far as Deborah could tell. She had never even been past it, the two times she had previously been in this state had meant entering Talebheim itself and then travelling straight back into Hochland.

A few villagers sat outside their houses, stitching up clothes, chopping up wood, the day to day tasks of Imperial folk. Goli stood back from his companion for once, allowing the big man to speak. They obviously found a more welcoming reception when people could speak to one of their own.

One of the village men, a strapping wood worker, bare chested and healthfully bearded strolled up to them, axe casually slung over his shoulder. “What business have you here?” he asked, eyeing each of them in turn.

“Just passing through friend,” offered Talwin. “We hoped there might be somewhere we could stay the night before we move on. I am Talwin Bohrn and this is my daughter. The Dwarf is Goli Karraghorn.” The axeman continued his suspicious glare but after a few moments seemed to be lacking for a good reason that these travelers would threaten his village.

Deborah had given her sword up to Talwin before they entered the village, though she kept her bow. A young peasant girl with a sword strapped to her side would raise eyebrows. She kept her hood well up and stared at the ground as much as she could.

“Where do you hail from, Herr Bohrn? I cannot place your accent.” Talwin shifted uncomfortably. He had not hoped to be questioned this much, she could tell.

“I was born in Bechafen, up in Ostermark. But I have travelled the depth and breadth of the Empire.” Deborah knew of Bechafen, though only through her studies. It was at the northernmost tip of Ostermark, which was itself as far north as you could go without crossing over into Kislev. It was a troubled land, often called upon to help drive back the all too frequent Chaos incursions.

“Can’t say as I’ve heard of it, but we are simple folk around these parts and travel is the last thing on our mind. Holding at bay that which comes out of the woods and feeding ourselves keeps us plenty busy. My name is Ulfred Kiell, I am leader of this village and whilst we have no Inn for you to stay at, we can offer the comforts of the barn, if you don’t mind sharing with the animals.” His face had softened slightly and he gave a wink.

Goli’s face split into a wide grin at the man’s change of mood. “Won’t be the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last!” Ulfred beckoned to a woman who stood beside one of the houses watching on.

“This is my wife, Esther. Esther, show these men where they can drop their things and they can join us for dinner.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron, smiled and led them to the barn. It was large but only a few animals were inside.

“We’ve had hard times of late.” She explained. “Raiders from the woods. We have not seen who or what they are. They always come so quietly and though we try and set up a watch they avoid it. No one knows how. It seems sometimes like they come in right by us without making any sound or casting any shadow.”

Talwin shot Goli a look which the Dwarf returned knowingly. “Thank you Esther,” Talwin replied. “We will settle our things and then join you again outside.” She left them alone and when he was sure she was out of earshot Talwin spoke again. “What do you think? It’s not orcs, that’s for sure.”

The Dwarf nodded, “Ay, nor beasts either. They would both leave a lot more evidence of their coming, likely in the form of dead villagers when the animals got low.” He threw down his axe and packs. “Slipping in even past watchmen. That sounds like some kind of sorcery wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed. As if we haven’t seen enough of that lately.” Talwin turned and nodded in Deborah’s direction, obviously referencing the orc shaman she had slain.

“You make it sound like you expect to encounter it whilst we are here but we’re only staying overnight,” she laughed. The other two didn’t share her humour.

“Let’s just say, lass, where there is trouble around, it does seem to appear when we are passing through the area.” He broke in to a grin then. “Just look at yourself.” She kicked him playfully in the shin but what he said unsettled her.

“Invisible raiders though. What can we do even if they do show up?”

Goli shrugged. “I don’t believe in invisible things. Us Dwarfs do have a certain resistence to magics. That and your arrow are probably the only reason my brains are not scattered in that clearing back on the road. It’s more likely some kind of ward against light or perhaps a hex cast on the villagers to dull their wits. I may be better able to see them. Then again I may not. Either way, let’s hope we don’t have to find out. Maybe you can change our fortunes and be our lucky charm!”

Talwin snorted. “A fugitive noble girl with a taste for adventuring… probably get us in more scrapes than we had before.” The Dwarf laughed and Deborah found herself joining in. The battle with the orcs had played in her mind many times as they travelled. She had reflected on how slow she had been to action. Another few moments and the Dwarf would indeed have been dead and his friend likewise moments later.

Her father had always told her and Bastian that all the practice with swords and bows in the world was one thing. Battle and war were a whole other matter. She had never realized what he meant until that night. She was proud of herself for her eventual actions, but had she been there in the camp with them, she would have been slain before either of them. She just hoped that next time they ran into trouble she would be more ready.

Goli and Talwin led the way back into the village clearing, for it was little more than that. Villagers had pulled a few tables together in their absence and placed them in the middle. The women were running here and there grabbing plates and baskets. Ulfred had warmed up to them considerably it seemed. He had pulled a rough cloth shirt over his huge torso and called them to sit at the table. Other men began to appear, some looked like farmers, others carpenters like Ulfred. A couple had bows slung across their backs and brought with them rabbits and pheasants which they gave to Esther, who had got a large fire going outside what Deborah guessed was their house.

The meal was a pleasant way to end the day and Deborah enjoyed the normality of eating with  friendly folk. The only down side was that she really had to keep quiet for the most part, so as not to draw attention to herself. If anyone asked her a question she gave non committal mumbled answers until they got bored of her and went back to listening to Goli who was merrily holding court with tales of his travels. She had to admit to herself that she enjoyed his tales as much as the villagers, even when they became highly questionable. At one point she was sure he had just boasted of single handedly slaying an elven dragon, but he was also getting more and more drunk so she may have misheard his slurred voice.

Night fell and the villagers dispersed to their homes, making Goli and Talwin promise not to leave in the morning without saying goodbye and taking a few provisions. Deborah offered to take the first watch. She had drunk little of the ale and still felt alert. She gotten no  argument from Goli who gathered up some straw, laid his head down and was snoring before he could finish the word “Goodnight.” Talwin instructed her to wake himself for next watch.

A pleasant kind of silence fell over the village, broken only by the odd hoot of an owl, or the whickering of the few horses the village people owned. Deborah found herself wondering what this journey would find her doing. She had never had so much freedom to do as she pleased before and whilst it excited her, the lack of a destination or deadline frightened her somewhat. She was not going anywhere in particular. She was essentially wandering aimlessly and that brought its own sense of quiet despair. Perhaps somewhere along the way she might find a purpose.

These thoughts echoed around in her head all the whilst she sat there and she became lost in them. She jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been up a while now, go get some rest and I’ll take over.” It was the tall silhouette of Talwin. She nodded and settled down near the horses. Their presence comforted her as it always had. She was not as accomplished a rider as her brother, but she loved to look after the beasts.

Another hand on her shoulder and she started awake. Talwin’s finger was at his lips. She could not make him out well but there was tension in his fingers as he gripped her. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered. Goli had been woken too, he knelt right beside his friend. “It’s gone too quiet.”

Deborah listened and she could feel it too. No hooting owls now, the horses shuffled around nervously and there was a chill in the air. She could barely feel it, but it made her shudder non the less.

“Makes the hair on my neck stand up,” put in Goli. “And there is only one thing that does that… sorceries.” He had his axe in hand and was standing up ready to move out. Talwin took his hand from her shoulder and turned too, drawing his sword as quietly as he could. He had already unwrapped hers from his belongings and handed it to her. The three of them crept out of the barn and into the moonlit farmyard.

It was small, like everything in the village. A grazing area lay open in the middle but was surrounded by apple and pear trees. Not wanting to be caught unawares they crept into the shadow of the barn itself, waiting to see what was coming. The unease was rising in her. There was definitely something approaching. She wondered how the villagers had not sensed it, if this was indeed the mysterious raiders.

[Siberius]

A few minutes passed, tension like a knife running through them. Her eyes darted left and right but nothing approached. Then all of a sudden Goli hissed out, “They’re here, do you see them?” Both her and Talwin shook their heads. “Ay, as I thought, they have a glamour over them. I have to get to the magic wielder or we’ll be fighting shadows.”

Talwin tried to argue but Goli was already moving. The Dwarf crouched low and crept through the shadow of the trees to their left, working his way round. Talwin swore. “He could have told us what was there, or how many!” Deborah tried to stay as still as possible and strained her ears to hear. Considering his usual bluster, she was impressed at how silently the Dwarf could move when he wanted.

Just then, she thought she saw a shadow out of the corner of her eye. Something flashing infront of the moon. Her sword flew up instinctively and to her shock it rang out with a clang as something met it. She was throw off balance and Talwin put out an arm to steady her. “Get back,” he said urgently. “They are here and we are no closer to seeing them. This is a battle we cannot win.”

The two of them leapt in through the door of the barn and pushed it closed. As soon as they had, the banging started. It sounded like the heavy thud of shoulders hitting the door. Whatever was out there was trying to break through. Deborah grabbed for her bow whilst Talwin stood over her, sword flashing this way and that in case any of them had made it in with them. “Hurry, they’ll be in here in moments,” Talwin whispered urgently.

And then it happened. The door swung open with a crash and Deborah let fly with an arrow. There was a strangled cry which did not sound entirely human and something hit the floor. Her arrow had vanished. Talwin was looking round wildly though it was even darker in the barn than in the yard, there was still nothing in sight. “Curse that Dwarf,” he muttered.

Just as she felt like their assailants must be about to murder them where they stood, there was a whoosh of air and bright light that streamed through the door. They both held their hands up to their faces to block out the temporary blindness and when they lowered them, they discovered that Goli must have done something after all.

Before them stood at least six rats. But these were not ordinary rats. They were the size of men, wore ragged robes and held swords and maces. Teeth jutted from their gums and small black eyes gleamed dimly in what light remained. On the floor lay another of them, Deborah’s arrow sticking out from it’s chest.

They looked round at each other apprehensively, obviously as unsure about what had just happened as Deborah and Talwin but an arrow in the neck of the one nearest Deborah confirmed what had transpired. They turned back towards the humans and hissed out unfathomable words as they flew at them.

Deborah dropped the bow, rolled sideways and scooped up her sword. Before she could raise it, a rat had leapt on her, pinning her down. They were unbelievably fast. It’s knife was inches from her shoulder, only her own hand held the creature’s wrist from plunging it into her. It’s breath filled her nostrils, earthy and stale. Though fast, the rats were light. She kicked it off easily but it was on her again almost before it had landed. This time she was ready though and it impaled itself unknowingly on her upturned sword. A pitiful squeak left it’s lips as it died.

Talwin had beheaded one of the ratmen and was keeping two more at bay. As she looked for her next opponent she was dismayed to see another four of them enter the barn, looking around wildly. The rearmost one let out a scream as an axe cleaved into it’s back. Goli was behind them and he looked fierce. As he yanked the axe from it’s carcass he was treading on the tail of another to stop it getting out of his reach. His axe swung vertically chopping it in half and spraying the dwarf with blood. He did not seem to notice as he moved forward.

Buoyed by his presence, Deborah ran another rat through whilst it gave the dwarf a horrified look. Even though they still outnumbered their opponents two to one, the rodent’s looked ready to rout. She could not blame them. Goli was a force of nature. But they were cornered, Deborah and Talwin at the back of the barn, Goli blocking their exit. So they turned away from the dwarf and came at the two humans.

One of them jumped at her, knives flashing, but she ducked to her right whilst swinging her sword behind her and felt it bite into the rat’s midsection. Goli had two of them trapped and made short work of cutting them down whilst Talwin finished the remaining few.

“Where were you?” Talwin asked fiercely in the blackness of the barn. “They almost slaughtered us before we noticed them!”

“Ay, but they didn’t did they?” the Dwarf noted, resting an elbow on his upturned axe shaft, blood spattered liberally across his face and arms. “And why do you think that is? I found their leader and clocked him from behind as he mumbled out his spells. That’s why we could see them. When I looked up I saw them swarming over here so came to help mop up, but we should go make sure he is dead eh?”

Talwin nodded, managing to somehow look grateful and angry all at the same time. The three of them made their way back outside, the moons casting a stronger glow now. They followed the dwarf across the yard and to a spot beneath a huge oak tree. He cursed loudly in the dwarven tongue. At least, Deborah assumed it was cursing. The gestures he accompanied it with did seem to suggest that.

“He’s gone. How did he do that?” The dwarf sank to his knees and examined the grass as best as he could in the gloom. “Yes, blood from where I beat him in the head, and here, more. He went this way.” The dwarf was lighting a torch and waving it around near the grass. He began to walk swiftly away.

“Uh, Goli,” Talwin gripped the dwarf by the shoulder before he could get too far out of reach. “Where exactly are you going?” The dwarf looked surprised.

“We’ve got to get after him. I know these skaven, encountered ‘em before under the ground. Where there are a few there are more and where there is a wizard, only trouble will come. He’s injured, we should finish him before he gets his friend and does more than steal these poor folk’s animals.”

The dwarf looked them both in the face eagerly. Talwin glanced at Deborah, an unconvinced look in his eyes but she had to admit the dwarf had a point and so she nodded. The dwarf smiled, turned away again with his torch flashing this way and that and they followed, weapons drawn.

[Siberius]

The black sky was turning a deep shade of blue as they moved, Goli barely looked up as they moved through the trees, intent on his prey. As they wove in and out of the increasingly dense brush she felt sure he was actually sniffing his way, she could not see blood any more. Or perhaps he was just going on a hunch. Just as she was about to ask if he really had any idea if they were on the right track they came to a large pile of rocks, twice the height of a man. At their foot was an opening.

“He’s down here,” the dwarf said unnecessarily. “Best be follwing him, eh?” And with that he had slung his axe over his shoulder and walked into the darkness. Talwin groaned and lit another couple of torches, handing one to Deborah.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.  “A very bad feeling.” She could not help but share his trepidation. Above ground they had the advantage, height and the space to swing their weapons. Under the ground they would be stooping and, worse than that, in the rat’s home territory. Nether the less they followed the excitable dwarf into the opening.

The tunnel was just about wide enough to fit one at a time. The fumes from the torches were choking in the tight confines and Deborah was glad when it began to widen out. Within a few minutes the three of them were able to walk alongside each other. There was a definite descent to the tunnel’s path and she wondered how deep they were headed.

“Where is this rat?” Talwin complained. “I thought you said you had injured it.”

The dwarf looked hesitant. “Ay, I’ll admit I am impressed at his resilience. I thought he was knocked out but maybe he was just pretending.” His axe was out infront of him, as if he were constantly expecting something to jump out from the shadows. Deborah reflected that this was not a bad thought and raised her own sword. “Even so, we’ll find him.”

Talwin shot Deborah one of his increasingly familiar pained looks but kept pace with the dwarf. For her part, she was partially excited, after all was this not just the kind of adventure she had dreamed about? On the other hand, crawling down into this hole felt like a terrible idea.

Her father had told her about the rat men, or skaven as they were otherwise known. Most common folk did not even believe they existed, but that was because they led very secretive lives under the earth, Aldebrand had insisted. He had faced them in battle though, hordes of them. They were cowardly by nature, though in numbers very dangerous. In battle they used all manner of bizarre machines that would have even the Imperial College of Engineers baffled.

She had never seen one before though and had begun to suspect her father of telling her stories. Tonight though had changed all that. There was no mistaking what those beasts were. And they were heading right down the rat’s hole, likely towards even more of them. She may not have a chance to worry about living out a life of exile, perhaps she would die down here, never to be seen or heard of again. It sent a chill down her spine and she pushed it from her mind. The dwarf had proved already that he was a resourceful and fearsome fighter. Stay close to him, she thought.

The flames illuminated grimy rough cut walls. There was nothing now but tunnel behind and tunnel infront. Each new step made this seem like a worse and worse idea but the dwarf trudged on, relentless. Just as she was about to suggest that they think about turning back Goli raised a hand and they stopped.

“You hear that?” he asked. Deborah strained her ears and realized there was a faint humming in the air which she never would have noticed by herself. They both nodded at the dwarf and he motioned them onwards, weapon raised.

The humming grew louder as they walked on and became something else. It sounded to Deborah like a faint chittering and scratching. Fear rose in her as she wondered what could be up ahead. The walls were changing too. They had taken on a purplish glow, barely noticeable, but growing with their progress. When it felt like the noise was getting closer Talwin extinguished his torch and they did likewise. It was then that she realized just how strong the glow had become. They should be standing in pitch darkness, but instead could see easily by the light emitted from the cavern walls.

Goli whispered back at them, “This is bad. I have seen this glow before, down in the mines back home. The taint of chaos is in this place.” He did not look like turning back though. “We have come this far. Let’s see what’s down here.”

They crept more slowly on now until the sounds echoing back and forth made Deborah feel like they were surrounded by rats. After a few minutes they reached a widening of the tunnel and then its end. Where the tunnel ended, the cavern opened wide and high. They must have come further down than Deborah had realized for the ceiling was up out of sight. All that separated them from whatever lay ahead was an outcrop of low rocks.

They crouched low and crawled slowly to the barrier. When they reached it Deborah peaked her head up just far enough to see what was beyond. What met her eyes froze her to the spot.

The cavern was not just deep, it was wider than she could have imagined. And it was filled with skaven. A whole city that stretched into the purple darkness. At its edges, tunnels large and small snaked in all directions. The city itself was hard to perceive. It seemed to be a jumble of crude dwellings, some little more than tents, others several teetering stories high.

[Derek Contyre]

While procrastinating, I stumbled onto your story again after 5 years.... How it has progressed!!!

It is an excellent story Siberius and I hope to read more about Deborah's adventures...

As I was reading I got all excited about helping you write it (while maybe writing a background piece up of a possible visit to Stattenland, considering in my own background that the Contyre's and the Ludenhof's are quite close), but when Deborah left to become a mercenary, I think I just wanted to read more and more...

It is a good start to a story, something similar to a Roleplay. Very cool!

[Siberius]

Many thanks!

It really has got out of hand now! She has barely begun her journey and there are so many things she is going to do... I need to set myself times to add to it on a semi regular basis cos I really do want to it to continue to grow. It was supposed to start out as a bit of background fluff but sometimes you gotta go where it takes you. 

[Derek Contyre]

That is how Anastasia Contyre was created haha, just a little out of hand background fluff that turned into a major character in the treachery and greed campaign and then developed her own full blown story in my army background.
I do hope you continue writing this. If you ever want to use some of my background, don't hesitate to ask

[Siberius]

I definitely plan to keep writing on it,it may just be sporadic!

I need to bookmark yours on my phone so I can have a proper read through!