//------------------------------// // 1 - Tactical Prowess // Story: The Unlikeliest of Heroes // by TheFullCrumb //------------------------------// Tzeentch, the God of Change and Master of Fates, stared at the chessboard in front of him. The mortal he faced stared intently at the pieces on the board, a dark cloak covering his entire form. He had wanted this mortal's soul for either millenia, or only a few short minutes, who could tell from within his realm? The mortal moved a piece, waiting for Tzeentch. Smugly, Tzeentch moved another piece. The chess game had been going on for what would seem to the mortal hours, but Tzeentch had played chess for many years before with the lives of mortals instead of chess pieces. The mortal moved for several turns. Tzeentch moved for several turns. The mortal finished one move, staring smugly at the board. Reaching beneath his dark cloak, he retrieved a thick Cuban cigar, placing it between his teeth. Staring at Tzeentch, he smiled. “Got a light?” Tzeentch shook his head in amazement, his finger lighting on fire. The cigar began to smolder, smoke trailing off the end. Tzeentch stared at the mortal's smug face. He had planned this moment from the beginning of time immaterial, for the mortal to fall in this game to a “convenient” counter in chess. The mortal moved one more piece, leaning back in his chair as he stared contently at the board. Tzeentch stood to laugh, preparing to gloat. “I am Tzeentch, the God of Change, the Master of Fates, the Lord of Destinies! I am ever-present, ever-moving, ever-shifting! There is no way-” Tzeentch stared down at the board. Something was off. The mortal had begun to chuckle. “Check again, Tzeentch.” The God of Change stared down upon his chessboard, realizing what the mortal had meant. There was a pawn, just behind his line, that he had never even noticed. Tzeentch screamed, for he knew what it meant. It was checkmate. He had lost, albeit unintentionally. “No~!” Tzeentch's scream echoed throughout his realm, the agony of loss portrayed within. The mortal stood to leave, waving at the Master of Fates. “Maybe next time, Tzeentch. Your strategies need work.” Tzeentch stood to face the mortal. “No! There is one last thing I have to say!” Tzeentch pointed a single, elongated finger at the cloaked mortal. “Goodbye!” A large portal appeared behind the figure, much to the mortal's chagrin. Without a sound, just a smug look, the mortal was sucked through the portal, to worlds unknown. Tzeentch settled down into another chair. In his mind, this would never come back to hurt him. Not one of the others that ruled his realm alongside him would know of his loss to a mortal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In another world, another time, another place, a large battalion of Griffon soldiers marched in turn to drumming by their regimental drummer. Their dark grey steel armour contrasted greatly with their brown and white feathers. Two figures stood upon a balcony, staring down. “King Justicar, is it not time for us to retire to our quarters? The drills can wait until this afternoon, right?” A female griffon, dressed in dark red and blue, bowed before the regal male that stood in front of her. “Gilda, it's not time yet. Maybe you should regale me with the stories of your Equestrian 'conquests' again?” The king laughed at his own joke, much to the chagrin of Gilda. “That's not funny at all.” Gilda stepped away from Justicar, standing inside the Great Hall of the Griffon capitol. Made of grey slabs of granite, it was sparsely decorated with swords, spears and shields, each weapon engraved with a dead warrior's name. The two thrones for herself and Justicar sat side-by-side near the door to the balcony. She stood there, sighing. “I wish I could have told you, Rainbow. Being royalty is stressful.” She wandered over to her seat, slumping down in the red velvet cushion attached to the oak chair. Almost as if on cue, a guard griffon, panting and grunting, charged through the entrance doorway to the Great Hall. “My princess!” The guard turned around to protect itself in case something were to attack fro the rear. “Something has attacked the castle! We know not what it is!” A loud blast of what sounded like a cannon echoed through the structure. “Get the battalion out front, and find whatever is doing this! Kill them!” The guard nodded, turning around to come face-to-face with what appeared to be a metal tube. Towering over him was a large figure, cloaked in a material that did not appear to be anything made by Griffons. It stood on two legs, what appeared to be a five-fingered claw grasping onto a small metal box with a tube attached. The guard backed up quickly, just before a crimson blast issued forth from the tube, crisping his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. “You should train your guards to expect the unexpected, and to prepare for any eventuality. My troops would never have been taken by surprise so easily.” Gilda stood up, her legs shaking. She was a griffon! Why did this bipedal make her so afraid? “How did you get past all the guards without them catching you?” The figure smiled smugly. Grasping the cloak with his free hand, he ripped it from his self, tossing it to the side. Underneath, the bipedal looked like no creature Gilda had ever seen before. His dark green jacket was adorned with medals, and two metal skulls attached by a single chain. His uniform was dark grey, with strange armour covering it. His face was pockmarked with scars, the most prominent one over his left eye. His mouth was upturned in a smug grin, a cigar burning in his mouth. “Tactical genius...” He smiled even further. “... hurr.” The bipedal stood at attention, his short, black hair attributing to his military career. “Who, and what are you?!” The bipedal stepped forward, placing the metal box into a leather sleeve attached to his side. “I am the Lord Castellan of the world Cadia. My name is Ursarkar E. Creed, in charge of the defense of my homeworld.” He stared at the smoking corpse of the griffon. “He was the only casualty. Don't worry. I'm a general, not a mass murderer.” He sat down on a chair in the middle of the Hall, staring at Gilda. “I am the Princess-” A voice from behind her startled her. “Who is this strange creature, and why is he in my general's seat?” Creed merely smiled. He chuckled, his soft 'hurr' reaching Justicar's ears. “Why do you dare laugh?” Gilda stepped in front of her father, holding up one clawed paw. “Father, he is Creed. He's a general from a place called Cadia. He was able to get past our best guards, all 99 of them?” “99?” Creed motioned to the corpse of the guard still by the door. “... oh.” Creed returned to a standing position, moving towards the window. “Drills. Pointless unless you are practicing for war.” Justicar glared at the back of the general. “And what would you know of these matters?” Creed did not even turn to give consideration to the question. “I've fought in wars that would make you tear your own eyes from your sockets. It was a sad day when that squad of promising guardsmen did that. Too bad.” He stared down. “You always must be prepared for war.” He turned back to the king. “Let me train them.” “I'm sorry, why should I let you do that? You burst into my throne room, making it past my veteran guards-” “Tactical genius, hurr.” “Stop it!” He huffed, angry that Creed would dare interrupt him. “- and dare to ask to train my forces?” He stopped for a second. If that single bipedal had been able to make it past his guards, with only one dead, then Creed was right. “All right. You train them. But if you try to overthrow myself or my court, you will be executed!” Creed merely shrugged. “You're just like a Space Marine Chapter Master. 'You Imperial Guard soldiers will make your last stand today!' Flying away in their transports before they even get hurt. Bastards.” Justicar looked over to Gilda, who whispered harshly. “I have no idea what a 'Space Marine', or a 'Chapter Master' is. You know as much as me.” Creed turned back to the two. “All right. Let's get this started. I don't want to keep your troops waiting.” Creed stopped, reaching into his jacket to pull out another cigar to replace the one he was smoking. It was almost burned out. Retrieving a lighter as well, he lit the end, breathing deep. “Nothing better than a cigar from holy Terra.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ As Creed stared forward at the troops he was supposed to train, his hand slapped his forehead hard. “This is what I've been given to train? I was given raw recruits from Cadia with more fighting ability! This is going to take a while.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Days turned into weeks, and those weeks became long and tedious. Creed ran those griffon troops through every Imperial Guard training regimen he knew, and he knew almost all of them by heart. Firing drills, marching in pattern, scout tactics, and anything else his tactical mind saw fit to use. One day, he stood in front of the griffon army, turned from what would be called a bunch of lily-livered, gut-sucking cowards, to a force to be reckoned with. He smiled smugly down at them. “Today is the day you all may have dreaded, or waited for. The day you march. I know not all of you know why we march, but there is war. Always war to be had, no matter where one looks. To be prepared for any fight is the best defense, and offense.” He stared down at the griffons, the sergeants he had appointed yelling orders to the troops. “And before everything, what is there?” He yelled down at the troops. Every single one repeated in unison. “Tactical genius! Hurr!” Creed smiled. He was so proud. They all wore dark green armour, similar to what he would have given a Guardsman recruit. He felt elation that they, even though they would never be a part of the Imperium, they would still uphold the honour and dignity of the Imperial Guard. “For the Emperor!” Justicar stood behind Creed, sighing. “I know you are a general, but changing our country to the Griffon Empire? Does that not change things for you?” Creed turned to stare at the newly appointed Emperor. “I serve an Emperor of sorts, back on my world. It would take too long, and take too many resources, to explain who he is.” Creed stepped down from the platform, drawing the cloak he had arrived in tightly around himself. “We shall meet again, although it might be under different circumstances. If my Emperor would give me the honour, I would enjoy testing the mettle of your troops against my Guardsmen. Farewell, Emperor Justicar! I hope you reign wisely, and with great tactical prowess!” With that, the Lord Castellan of Cadia left in a flourish, walking down the stairs towards a cart that had been prepared for him. Seating himself beside two griffons that had been appointed as his personal guard, he smiled. The cart moved, an ox dragging it slowly. “It is an honour to serve you, Lord Castellan Creed. We will serve ours and your Emperor with all of our ability.” The griffons saluted, the cloaks they wore matching Creed's. Unlike the other griffons in the green armour, theirs was black, with twin skulls on the chestplate, although cleanly covered by their dark cloaks. “Please. It is just Creed for you. Lord Castellan is my title of office.” He stared up at the sky. Snow had begun to fall, the sensation thrilling for Creed. Snow was always a sign of rebirth, something that many under his command had experienced, becoming veterans instead of heroes and martyrs. He looked at the road in front of them. It was going to be a long ride to the place that the griffons called “Canterlot.” He was looking forward to seeing another place, and maybe become a general there, high-ranking, with all the power he already held. He knew one way to get it. The griffons that sat with him did not understand his smug look, or what he said. “Tactical genius... hurr.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Notes are non-functional: Yes, the first person of the six beings entering is none other than LORD CASTELLAN URSARKAR E. CREED OF CADIA, a pivotal figure of Warhammer 40,000, a tabletop game created by Games Workshop Just wait for the next chapter. You might enjoy that, too.