The Inn of the Midnight Pony

by Emerald Harp

The Road to Sigmar Part 2

The holy place was just as Felix remembered it in real life. Everything was the same, from the beautiful stained glass windows, to the worn marble floor that had seen uncountable multitudes of worshippers and pilgrims pass through the centuries.

There were differences, however. The most obvious was that the cathedral was packed with people from every corner of the Old World. Some turned their heads to see who the newcomers were. To Felix’s surprise, he saw men and women, not just from the Empire, but from Brettonia, the Border Princes, Kislev, and several other minor human nations, judging from their heraldry. He also saw several dwarfs standing against the walls of the cathedral and sitting in the pews. A few of them smiled and nodded their heads at him. Word had spread through the dwarven realm about Felix’s and Gotrek’s exploits at Karag Dum and in the World Edge Mountains.

Dimitri and Felix found a place to stand close to the entrance where they would not be in the way, for all of the pews were full. Felix looked straight ahead, and to his continued astonishment, the holy leader of the Cult of Sigmar, the Grand Theogonist himself, was standing behind the stone lectern preaching. However, this Grand Theogonist had been dead for over four hundred years.

His name was Wilhelm the Third. Four and a half centuries ago he led the defense of the city of Altdorf against an undead army commanded by the vampire lord of Sylvania, Vlad von Carstein. According to his history books and professors, the assault lasted for many months. The people, the soldiers, and the city were on the verge of defeat during the final days of the siege. Then the Grand Theogonist confronted von Carstein on the ramparts of the city. The fight was won but at a terrible cost. Sustaining mortal wounds, Wilhelm the Third summoned the last of his power and pushed himself and the vampire lord off the high walls and onto the wooden stakes below. Some of Felix’s more eccentric teachers insisted that a certain ring was stolen from von Carstein by a master thief before this duel took place. They said that the ring held the key to the vampire’s invulnerability, and that if it had not been stolen, the day walker would have survived in spite of the Grand Theogonist’s sacrifice.

Felix paid little attention to that mental footnote. Instead, he focused on the scars, rents, and holes in Wilhelm’s armor that were still there from his war centuries ago. Out of curiosity, the poet glanced to his side to gauge Dimitri’s reaction to being preached to by a dead man. Dimitri just stood there staring, his mouth open and his eyes wide. He could not believe what he was seeing either.

As if feeling the gaze of the two newcomers upon him, the Grand Theogonist finished speaking his message and brought his sight down on the two men standing in the very back of the cathedral. With his steel gauntleted right hand he motioned for a scribe to come forward. The lad leapt to obey and brought with him a yellowing scroll that he placed in front of Wilhelm on the stone lectern. The old leader of the Cult of Sigmar unrolled the parchment and began to read.

While the cult leader scrutinized the list, Felix looked around him once more and noticed that everyone he could see was a chosen of Sigmar. Witch hunters, battle priests, templars, and other cult organizations were represented in the cathedral. Many of the holy cultists had shaved heads and carried war hammers not unlike Dimitri’s. All of them were waiting eagerly for the Grand Theogonist’s next words.

Felix suddenly felt very out of place in the company he was in. His midnight blue tabard, depicting Luna’s white-moon cutie mark, stood out against the sea of crimson robes and polished armor. And his long blond hair made him look like a northern heathen compared to the shaved and close cropped heads of the other holy men here. Dimitri saw Felix’s gaze wonder across the church. He nudged him to get his attention. He whispered, “I’m amused to say, my friend, that you seem as out of place as a blushing bride at a funeral.” Felix smirked at this and did his best not to laugh; he had to admit his new friend was right.

Soon after Dimitri’s comment was made, the Grand Theogonist looked up from the scroll and in a loud voice boomed, “Dimitri Tupalov, and Felix Jaeger. Are you present among us?” Both men stepped forward at the same time and shouted back, “Aye.” Every eye in the cathedral turned to look at the new comers. At this time Felix whispered to Dimitri, “Hello, bridesmaid.” Despite the piercing scrutiny both of them were now under, the holy man could not suppress a smile and giggle.

Having received confirmation, Wilhelm the Third gently rolled the parchment back up and held it aloft above his head. “Brothers and sisters, we have gathered.” As everyone’s attention turned back to the cult leader, the parchment caught fire and burned quickly into nothingness. The holy one lowered his arm and stepped out from behind the lectern, his armored feet clanking against the floor as he moved. He walked down several steps that led from the upper sanctuary to the ground floor. When he climbed down the last step, a friendly smile appeared on his otherwise hardened face.

“First of all, my friends, thank you for waiting patiently and listening to an old man preach. It has been a while since my last sermon in this place, and I am happy to see this cathedral full of Sigmar’s disciples,” Wilhelm said in a warm voice that echoed through the church. He paused briefly before continuing, and looked into the sea of faces before him. He saw hope, anxiety, and curiosity all written on his congregation’s features. Pride filled the high priest as he noticed a complete lack of fear in his people; everyone gathered here was determined to see where this journey ended. Truly these were the chosen of Sigmar; his heroes had not changed in over four hundred years. However, despite their brave faces, he also saw a quiet layer of doubt underneath their stoic features. He nodded to himself and began his real sermon. “I have a question for you, my friends. Who here thinks that this is a fantasy or a dream, if you will? Who amongst you thinks that I’m not really here and neither are you? Who believes that this cathedral, this city, the very air you’re now breathing is all just a fabrication, a figment of your imagination?”

No one hesitated; everyone in the congregation raised their hands high into the air.

“Well, my brethren, you are indeed correct. This is a dream; all of you are here only in spirit, not in flesh.” To the congregation this did not come as a surprise since a man long dead was talking to them.

The high priest of Sigmar began to slowly pace back and forth before the assembled people, his right hand toying with the pommel of his ornate war hammer. “Right now I am wagering that all of you are wondering, ‘Why am I here with my other brothers and sisters being talked to by a long-dead Grand Theogonist, and how do I know that this is not a trick of the ruinous powers?’”

Felix whispered to Dimtri, “Excellent questions.” Judging from Dimitri and the many other nodding heads in the crowd of worshippers, they thought so as well.

“Well, brothers and sisters, you have cut to the heart of the matter.” He stopped pacing and put his arms back behind his huge, armored frame. “I shall answer the second question first. It is known that the unholy ones can manipulate us even in our dreams. You all know this, and I would be concerned if you did not have suspicions about what I am telling you and accepted what I say as blind truth.” He began to pace once more.

“With that being said, since this is a dream, any proof that I can conjure would be inconsequential. Therefore, what I am asking you to do is take a leap of faith. After all, is that not what Johann Helsturm the first Grand Theogonist did when Sigmar appeared to him in a vision twenty-five hundred years ago and told him to create this religion? The Founder manifested himself to Father Helstrurm, and Johann took a chance and believed. That is exactly what I am asking you to do now: to believe that what I am telling you is the truth.”

The former savior of Altdorf paused to let his words sink in. The holy men in front of him did not move, so enraptured were they by the Grand Theogonist’s words. Felix too was leaning forward in anticipation to hear what he would say next.

“As to why you are here, some of you, if not many of you, have heard that a massive chaos invasion is coming from the Northern Wastes. It will put to shame the black invasion that happened two hundred years ago. As it did in previous times, it will strike Kislev first and head south, ruining everything in its path. This is why all of you are here. Brothers and Sisters, we stand on the brink of annihilation. In the Empire and elsewhere, cultists are gathering to practice their blasphemous worship of the gods of anarchy. Orks are slaughtering entire communities of dwarfs and men in the World Edge Mountains and beyond. The Skaven are emerging from their warrens en masse and are undermining our cities.”

He stopped pacing again and paused for effect. Felix had to admit, for a dead man, he knew how to work a crowd. “Soldiers of Sigmar,” continued Wilhelm the third, “let no one doubt that the challenges ahead of us are great, but not insurmountable. Only through faith, strength, and purpose can we prevail in the coming times of tribulation and turmoil. I can see that all of you have more than sufficient faith and strength. Tonight, Sigmar will renew your purpose.”

The Grand Theogonist turned on his heel and marched back up the stairs to the lectern. “He has always been with us in spirit, my brethren, but tonight you shall see his face and know his plan for us. Sigmar shall call you forth one by one to speak with him in the room of greater communion. In the interim we shall sing our praises to him.” The holy one’s voice began to rise and become even more passionate. “Let your zeal be known from Averheim to Ernegrad, from Slyvania to Bretonnia, from Southern Araby to the thrice-damned Chaos Wastes!”

An ear-shattering cheer exploded from the throats of the entire congregation. Everyone stood on their feet and chanted, “Sigmar, Sigmar, Sigmar” over and over again until the Grand Theogonist in his entrancing voice began singing an old soldiers’ hymn that Felix knew quite well. He joined in the song as did everyone else. As the marching tune washed over the cathedral, Felix noticed a templar from one of the center pews walk down the middle of the isle. The warrior ascended the same steps the high priest had a minute ago. Before going through a small doorway behind the stone lectern, he hesitated and looked over to Wilhelm for guidance.

The long-dead leader of the Sigmar cult turned to meet the templar’s gaze and nodded. Thus emboldened, the templar opened the small wooden door and closed it behind him.

While Felix and the other members of the congregation were finishing the last verse of the hymn, the templar emerged from the small room. He looked like a man who had just received a mission from God and was eager to carry it out. Before he could descend the marble steps, the Grand Theogonist stopped singing. He came up to the templar and whispered something into his ear. The holy warrior nodded. The templar did not return any of the glances or stares from his brethren. He just kept walking until he exited the cathedral through the great front doors.

This was the norm throughout the rest of the night. While the assembly of Sigmar sang or the Grand Theogonist preached, seemingly random members of the congregation were silently called forth to commune with their deity. For their part, Felix and Dimitri had claimed a slowly vacating pew to rest their tired feet. As he sat down and continued to wait, Felix could not help but wonder why he was here with all of these men of God. Felix was not a devout man, but he believed in Sigmar. That being said, he also believed in other gods as well. He did pray to Sigmar and go to the cathedral in his early youth, but there was no special place in his heart for the Hammer Lord.

Then it dawned on him. Maybe it was not he who Sigmar wanted to see, but the artifact that he carried. Was it because of the crimson, dragon-hilted sword that he was here? That made more sense. As the night continued, Felix tried to wrap his mind around why he was here, or if the ‘why’ was even important. When one cut to the heart of the matter, this was still a dream. The Grand Theogonist admitted as much.

Eventually, the assembly was whittled down to just a couple of full pews at the front of the cathedral. The Grand Theogonist had stopped singing and preaching a while ago and was telling stories about trials and battles of the past. It was like a grandfather talking to his grandchildren about his previous life. The grand priest reminisced about the siege of Altdorf, what it was like to die, and his life before and after he became the great holy leader of his time.

Finally, the number of Felix’s fellow worshippers dwindled until he found that he, Dimitri, and Wilhelm were the only ones left in the sanctuary. His two other companions were deep in prayer when a voice in his head spoke his name. It was a strange yet familiar voice that he recognized but could not place. After hearing the voice, Felix placed a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. The priest opened his eyes and raised his head to look at Felix.

“He calls me,” the poet said. The holy man smiled at him. “He calls us all, my friend. It is only the believers who hear him.” With that, Dimitri returned to praying and Felix began to climb the steps that led to the room behind the lectern. He was apprehensive. His limbs felt like jelly as he ascended the steps, but somehow he managed to lift his legs up and place them down until he was at the same level as the Grand Theogonist.

The high priest did not look up from his prayer, but Felix had no doubt that the priest knew he had been called to speak with Sigmar. Quietly, he took a few more steps until he came to the small wooden door; all the while his heart hammered in his ears. With his sweating hands he grasped the cold, iron handle and opened the door. The issuing creak from the metal hinges was ear-splitting. Taking a final deep breath, Felix closed the ancient door behind him.

The chamber was Spartan. It possessed a stone floor and a low, wooden ceiling. There were no windows, but Felix’s eyes were drawn to a large war hammer on a metal table. The weapon dominated all other aspects of the room, and why shouldn’t it? This was after all the same weapon that Sigmar had used during the wars of unification and the conflicts beyond those long ago days.

In real life, the weapon should have been behind an enchanted glass box to maintain its purity, so he was told. Also, there were two plain, wooden chairs sitting in front of the table that would not have been there if this was reality. The pilgrim or repentant was supposed to kneel before the sacred hammer and beg forgiveness in the presence of templars from the Order of the Fiery Heart. Strangely those warriors were not here either, protecting the hammer. The poet shook his head, “Of course, this is strange. It’s a dream,” Felix muttered to himself.

His gaze returned to the unprotected weapon, and he wondered why Sigmar wasn’t here. He pondered this for a little while. Maybe this was a test, and he was supposed to pick up the hammer and then Sigmar would appear. Why else would it be here before him unprotected? He stepped forward, right up to the table. As he was about to touch the war hammer, he hesitated. What if this was indeed a test, a test to weed out the sinful from the sinless. If he were to touch the holy weapon, what would happen? Would he die painfully? Or would he be given some sort of clairvoyance or power? He stared at the tabled weapon for a long time, weighing his options. Finally, he extended his fingers once more to the weapon, saying to himself, “Sigmar is not the god of cowards.”

When his hand caressed the hilt of the hammer, nothing happened. Despite the fabricated situation he was in, he felt disappointed. He had expected to feel or see something, but none of that had occurred.

From behind him he heard a man clear his throat. Felix felt the hair on the back of his neck and arms rise. He slowly turned around to face the most muscular and handsome man he had ever laid eyes on.

The being was huge, over seven feet tall. He was garbed in the same kind of plate armor as the Grand Theogonist. However, where Wilhelm’s armor was golden and beautiful, the giant’s was plain. It was made for combat only, not for show. In between the newcomer’s hands was a golden hammer, twice the length and size as the one sitting on the table behind Felix. His long brownish-red hair spilled across his broad shoulders, while his dark eyes seemed to blaze a path straight to Felix’s soul.

The poet was rooted to where he stood like a pinned insect. His gelatin like legs became rigid as steel. He couldn’t move, or speak. It was funny in a way. Felix had been in the presence of demons, orks, dragons, and monsters. He had faced them all and had survived. Yet that thought was little comfort to him now. As if banishing an unseen spell, the giant blinked and said in a voice as cold as glaciers, “You are a bold one not to bow, sir. But I would expect as much from one as rebellious as you.” After hearing the man speak, Felix was snapped out of his inaction. He immediately got down on one knee and bowed his head, just as he would have for Princess Luna. He said out loud to the juggernaut, “Sigmar, my lord . . . my apologies. I . . . you have called, my lord, and I have answered.”

For what seemed like an eternity Felix kept his head lowered. He expected to hear Sigmar rebuke him for touching the holy object on the table or for not bowing to him sooner. After a few minutes Felix worked up the courage to raise his head to look at the Founder’s face.

Sigmar was staring at him with a slightly amused smile. He slung his great war hammer over his shoulder and offered his right hand to help Felix to his feet. Felix took the calloused hand and was pulled easily to a standing position.

“Well met, Sir Jaeger.” Sigmar’s voice was sharp and coarse, yet not hostile in any way. It was a voice befitting a general.

After helping Felix to his feet, Sigmar gestured to the two chairs that stood before the metal table. As the god and man sat, Sigmar spoke again. “I admire your courage, Sir. All the others that have come through this room never touched that hammer seated before you. They were all too worried about if it would be right or proper. Likewise others were concerned if I would smite them for touching the ‘holy’ Ghal Maraz.”

The Founder of the Empire of Man chuckled mirthlessly at that thought. He turned his eyes to the hammer on the table and continued, “Rules be damned. I would never harm my own, not for anything so trivial. What is sitting behind the glass box in the bowels of the true cathedral of Altdorf is just a symbol and nothing more. I carried my hammer with me over the World Edge Mountains those many years ago.”

Felix hung on every word the deity said, but the words that Sigmar last uttered dispelled a suspicion the poet had long held. He was always told by those he asked that the hammer behind the glass was the real Ghal Maraz, the real Skull Splitter. Felix quickly glanced down at the true weapon and beheld the dwarvish runes and the craftsmanship of the weapon. The copiers did not do it justice at all. This information he had just learned was jarring. He could not help but wonder what else he had been told was untrue . . . or was it?

After that last thought passed through Felix’s brain, Sigmar’s sight turned to the Knight once more. Felix could not suppress a fresh wave of nervousness and fear that encompassed him. “I understand you have many questions, Sir Felix, so ask them.”

Felix blinked at the invitation. He did not know where to begin. All of his questions that he had wanted ask had slipped through his proverbial fingers. He looked down at his feet and mentally cursed himself for being such a fool in the presence of one so mighty. His anxiety must have been more obvious than he thought for he felt a massive hand on his shoulder. “Calm yourself. This dream will not end until you have had your say.”

The poet took a deep breath and marshaled his thoughts. His first question surfaced from the depths of his mind quickly; it was also the one he wanted to ask most. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but why am I here? I understand why the other holy ones are present tonight, but why me?”

Sigmar nodded. He waved his hand across the table with the fake hammer on it. The table and weapon were replaced by a fire pit with a great roaring flame in its center. So surprised was Felix that he nearly tipped over backwards in his chair. The flame sparked and cracked as the wood was being charred. The smokeless fire felt very pleasant and made for a much friendlier atmosphere.

The two warriors sat side by side and gazed into the fire for a long time. So long in fact that Felix began to wonder if Sigmar had forgotten his question. The First Emperor then spoke, still gazing into the fire. “Assuming that you believe me, you are here because you are my champion in the land of ponies.”

It was an obvious question, but Felix asked it anyway. “You know I am in Equestria? You know about the Inn of the Midnight Pony in Nuln and about the portal?”

“Aye.”

Felix pondered this carefully. “Why am I in Equestria, my lord?”

After Felix uttered the question, Sigmar reached into the flame and stoked the fire with his bare hands. The fire encompassed his hand but did not burn his flesh as he rearranged the logs. “You are in Equestria because that is where I need you most. That’s the short answer. The long answer is much more complicated.”

No longer surprised by the god’s actions, Felix unconsciously ran a hand down his mouth and chin as he considered this. “What is the long answer?” he asked.

Sigmar glanced at Felix. “Look around you.”

Felix obeyed. He expected to see a hidden door or something else materialize in the chamber, but instead, he was suddenly sharing the fire with many other people. There were soldiers, all looking into the flame, just as Felix was doing. With a start, Felix got up from his seat and frantically looked about him. They were no longer in the cathedral but on the huge outer stone walls of an unfamiliar city. The soldiers did not even glimpse up at the frantic stranger. “Where are we, sire?”

The god left his seat. “We are in the city of Praag. This is where the first blows from the Wastes will fall. This is where you and your battle brother, Gotrek Gurnisson, would have traveled if not for me.” As the god spoke, the sun began to rise over the eastern horizon to reveal a great host before them. Demons, beastmen, and humans were standing before the walls howling their blasphemous prayers and chants to the ruinous powers. They were as uncountable as the blades of grass on the Kislev steep. Soldiers and peasants were running through Felix’s and Sigmar’s ephemeral bodies, making last minute preparations for the coming assault against their city.

Sigmar’s iron voice drew Felix’s attention back to him. “This is just a splinter of the host that is amassing to assault the realms of men. However, it is enough to destroy this city, formidable though its defenses are.”

A single, dark-armored figure emerged from the host and spoke in a tongue that made Felix’s ears hurt despite being several hundred feet away. The unholy army charged forward as relentless and unmerciful as a wildfire. They were on the city walls in mere minutes despite the appalling casualties they suffered from arrows, catapults, and hot tar. As Felix drew his sword and readied himself for battle, the scene changed again, and they were back in the cathedral where they had started.

Sigmar returned to his seat and was speaking again. “The black host has yet to arrive at Praag, but it soon will. This is why I summoned the leaders of the cult here tonight. I need them to muster and make ready to march to Kislev and join our Northern Brothers before it is too late. I have spoken with the current Emperor and Grand Theogonist, and the armies are making ready. Everyone I have summoned here has a part to play in the coming war.”

Felix slowly sat back down next to Sigmar and sheathed his sword. “And what is my task, my lord?” The first emperor turned his body from the fire and looked squarely into Felix’s eyes. “There are six artifacts I need you to gather in Equestria that are the bane of chaos. They were made centuries ago from the same star metal as your holy symbol and Gotrek’s axe.”

Felix shook his head in bewilderment. What Sigmar had said was a lot to take in. The knight licked his lips nervously. “But are not the Elements of Harmony also powerful against chaos?”

Sigmar nodded. “For now they are. But the nature of chaos is to change and adapt to those who want it destroyed. Eventually, I fear that the Elements of Harmony shall not be enough.”

Felix sighed. “I thought as much.”

The hammer lord continued, “What you now seek in Equestria, chaos cannot adapt to, ever.”

Reaching inside his shirt, Felix pulled out Sonny’s Holy Symbol. “When this first came into my possession, Sonny claimed it to be just an ordinary device. Why did he mislead me about this item? And why did he give it to me?”

The deity held out his hand for the powerful trinket, and Felix gave it to him without hesitation. He looked at it for a long time and said, “This was the first Holy Symbol of my cult, although it did not start its life with that purpose.” Sigmar closed his eyes as he talked. “Long ago before unification, I was in love with the most caring and wonderful lady imaginable. Her name was Ravenna. Needless to say, I loved her and wanted to marry her.” A deep smile crossed the face of the giant as he continued, “The dwarfs somehow caught wind of this and fashioned this as a wedding present for her.” He held up the symbol as he talked.

A very dark look came over the god’s face as he continued, “Her brother, Gerreon, at the time was one of my dearest friends. During the wars of unification, I saved his life, and he saved mine many times. But all the while, the seeds of darkness were sprouting and flourishing within him. He blamed me for the death of his twin brother years before, who fell in battle fighting the orks. In truth I cannot fault Gerreon for that. I was in command, and I was responsible for his brother and his men . . . . I couldn’t reach him in time, and he died a hero’s death.” Sigmar’s voice rang hollow as he finished that last sentence. “The death lord’s halls are full of heros.”

“Gerreon confronted me and my wife to be while we were together. By this time Gerreon was completely won over to the side of ruin, and he came for my blood. He killed Ravenna and nearly took my life. ”

Felix was shocked; he had never heard of this. He had no idea that Sigmar was ever in love or that he had ever came close to death’s door. Certainly none of the holy men or Sigmarian texts had ever eluded to that.

“I’m sorry, my lord, for your loss. I . . . don’t know what else to say.”

“Say nothing, for nothing can be done. However, thank you for listening. You are the first one I have told that tale in a long time.”

Sigmar opened his eyes and looked down at the holy symbol once more. “When I left the Empire to walk the Earth, I blessed this trinket and left a piece of myself within it. If the wearer believes in me, he shall have a portion of my power. The greater that belief, the greater his strength will be. But to use my power is taxing. I do not recommend using it unless you have to. Sonny knew exactly what he was giving you, for he has been its keeper for decades. It is the only one like it in existence, and through it, I see what the wearer sees.”

The Hammer God handed the symbol back to Felix and said, “Sonny gave you this gift because I told him to. It will point the way to the artifacts. With my blessing, my son, you may wield my power to protect the Equestrians. Like it or not, Felix, as long as you hold that symbol, you are a priest of my order.”

Felix’s mouth went dry and his eyes widened as he took back the symbol. It seemed so much heavier now than it did before. “My lord, I . . . thank you, but why not send another, . . . more capable man to Equestria to retrieve your artifacts? I am just a man that accompanies a dwarf on a death quest, nothing more.”

Sigmar smirked at this. “I can think of no one better than you two, Felix. And if I recall, Princess Luna wanted a couple of warriors she could trust. Not religious zealots, not blood-thirsty mercenaries, and certainly not an army . . . at least not yet. She wanted you and Gotrek. She knows good men and dwarfs when she sees them, and so do I.”

Felix put the holy symbol around his neck and asked, “Did you foresee the warpstone falling in Equstria?”

The flame had gone out from the fire place where the wooden table used to be; not even smoldering embers were left. In a sad, brooding voice the First Emperor said, “Yes, but that is not all I have seen.” He reached a huge arm out and touched the knight’s shoulder.

The lunar knight froze in place. The visions were coming so fast it was bewildering. He saw Sigmar with a bearded pony forging six trinkets in an enormous forge. Mighty bellows fanned the azure fire in the stove’s bowels. The heat was so great, Felix put his hands up to protect his face.

The scene changed as the man lowered his arms. Six humanoid figures stood against six equines in an open field surrounded by Equestrians. Felix’s eyes widened. Those ponies were the same ones that were on the train with him speeding towards Dodge City. Not only that, but glaring right back at them were Gotrek, another version of himself, a wizard, another dwarf with spikes nailed into his skull, and two others he did not recognize. Before he could speak to either party, the two sides charged one another. His surroundings melted and reformed.

A searing pain speared deep into his mind. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was on the ground on all fours. Each step he took sent fresh shockwaves into his brain. The poet looked around. He was in a swamp several dozen miles north of Ponyville. “How do I know that?” he asked. Felix stopped dead in his tracks. That wasn’t his voice, and yet it sounded familiar. Seeing a nearby pool of brackish water, Felix dragged his broken body forward. He looked down and saw the face of Shining Armor grinning back at him where his own reflection should be. The warped pony was battered and bloodied, and the wound Gotrek gave the unicorn just added to the equine’s horrifying smile. “We’ll meet, brother,” the fallen pony said as he breached the water’s surface from below and attacked Felix with his pointed teeth.

Felix screamed in terror and toppled backwards. The warrior’s fall was halted by a rough hand. The human looked around once more. He was back in the cathedral with Sigmar. “What was that?” the poet asked.

The emperor stood up from his chair and declared, “The first was of the past when the six artifacts were created. The second was of the future where all roads lead. The third is but a possibility, and one that I hope you avoid. I’m sorry I cannot tell you more. To do so would do more harm than good.”

Felix pondered on this information for a moment. Before he could ask another question, Sigmar closed his eyes and said, “Our time is up. You and I have much to do. And do not worry about the future. Take it from me. You are in good hands . . . and hooves.”

The poet blinked and then realized that the Emperor was talking about his physical body still on the train to Dodge City. “Will we meet again?”

Sigmar looked Felix right in the eye. “Count on it.”

And with that, the Hammer Lord was gone, leaving as silently as he came.

The knight left the chamber, light-headed from all he had been told and witnessed. Felix took a few steps forward and sighed. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. The swordsman turned and saw the Grand Theogonist leaning forward to whisper to him. “The task in front of you is never as great as the power behind you. Go with Sigmar, my son.”

“Thank you, Father,” Felix whispered.

Dimitri met him at the foot of the stairs. “Well, my friend. This is goodbye for now.” The priest held out his hand. Felix took it and was not at all surprised by the crushing grip of the red-robed warrior. “Give my regards to your Princess Luna the next you see her. She has a fine champion in you.”

The Lunar Knight smiled. “I will. And Sigmar has no better priest in his service than you.”

“Best not to speak lies in this holy place, my friend.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” laughed the poet. Felix then turned serious. “Help is coming, Dimitri. Gods willing, we will see the day where chaos is destroyed, forever.”

The holy man nodded. “Praag will stand for as long as it is meant to stand. But as long as I draw breath, there will still be at least one man on the ramparts. Good bye, Sir Felix.”

The poet watched the priest go into the little chamber he himself had occupied just moments ago. Without any hesitation, Felix released the great doors to the cathedral and felt his real eyes begin to open.

Comments

[FleetlordAvatar]

Wow...intense. I assume you were making references to The End Times with the siege of Praag? It would be cool to see the Elements of Harmony save the Old World, but I guess we will have to wait and find out.

Glad to see another chapter of this great story.

[Cyclopean Lore-Seeker]

Needs more Ogres

[Emerald Harp]

8002260

Thank ya kindly my friend. Yeah I'm not really hearing good things about the End Times on Fantasy Warhammer. (I'm more of a 40K guy but I love Gotrek and Felix). So I thought I'd do my own version here.

8002356

. . . Well, I can't bloody well argue with that.

[Cyclopean Lore-Seeker]

Oh sorry I didn't mean to sound dismissive of your story l..in fact I have read it a few time already but I love the ogres, Ogryn, Ratling, and Bretonnia alot

[Emerald Harp]

8005739

Yeah, no offense taken bud. Any story is better with ogres in it. (And Skaven, I love me some skaven).

[Cyclopean Lore-Seeker]

Sniff sniff I smell smell horse things

[Orbiting Kettle]

Well, what can I say? This story surprised me in a pleasant way.

No offense, but I started reading it not expecting much. Instead I found some fine prose, characters and a crossover that works.

Kudos.

[Emerald Harp]

8010597

Thanks bud, we're glad you like it.

[Zwei]

I'm really enjoying this. I've just recently got back into Warhammer and am looking at Age of Sigmar. I gotta say this is a gate way read into the depths of Sigmar. Now i only need to deiced between a Skaven, Storm-cast Externals or Sylvaneth army.

[Emerald Harp]

9101387
I'm glad you like it bud.

I don't play the tabletop game but out of the choices that were given . . . I love me some skaven.

[Zwei]

9111382
You and me alike.