//------------------------------// // Chapter One - on the March // Story: Horn and Hammer // by Lancer //------------------------------// Horn and Hammer On the March Chapter One Eastern Shadowlands of Norsca The sounds of gun shots, of pounding hooves and the shouts of men could be heard in the distance over the crest of a barren hill little under a mile away. This did not unduly worry Markus Holstein, Warrior Priest and Arch Lector of the Cult of Sigmar. The Pistolier scouts had no doubt encountered the enemies’ perimeter. promptly becoming carried away and rushing to engage the enemy before the rest of the army turned up. Somewhat irresponsible all things considered since Markus had no idea how large the enemy’s forces were let alone their composition, beside the two sorcerers he knew to be at work casting Sigmar only knows what malevolent spell obviously. From his position at the front of the Empire column he looked back on the steadily marching troops. They were all veterans and so the noise of the skirmish past the hill was hardly a cause for concern having spent countless hours watching battles unfold around them in the past. At the forefront of the column marched Captain Pieter Von Grunberg and the Counts Champion Gerhart Manhelm. Behind them thirty seven Greatswords resplendent in their ornate plate armour which covered them from neck to toe. Many wore gorgets along with sallet style helmets or large wide brimmed red hats with dyed blue feathers protruding from the top signifying this regiment was of the Empire’s capital city, Altdorf. As their name would suggest their mighty two handed blades could be seen quite clearly, either slung across their armoured backs or resting against their pauldrons as they marched. Their eyes were set on the hill before them with grim anticipation. The regiment had been assigned to Markus by the Emperor himself as they were his alone to command. It was a sign of good faith, to show that Karl Franz trusted Markus on this most vital of endeavours. Markus was indeed grateful, there were few greater regiments in all of the Empire. The only fighting force in Altdorf of greater prestige were the Emperor’s Reiksguard Knights who had also accompanied Karl Franz on campaign in the Shadowlands of the north. Unfortunately however every available knight was needed with the main force as it fought almost daily against increasing resistance and Markus lamented the lack of any heavy cavalry for his expedition. His was a largely foot bound force. Behind the Greatswords marched Markus’ personal retinue, the Soldiers of Sigmar. These were funded and trained by the Church itself and largely raised from the abandoned and orphaned children who could regularly be found laid at church doors across the Empire. Cared for by the Church and brought up as devout Sigmarites many could expect to enter into the Church formally as a scribe, soldier or priest when they came of age. Markus himself was one such example and he looked on at the well-armed and trained soldiers with something akin to sibling affection for his brothers in arms, after all he had been raised alongside one or two of the men in the unit. Each of the twenty two soldiers was equipped with steel bound heater style shields, breastplates, helmets, tassets hanging over their thighs and heavy chainmail across the rest of their bodies to protect them from harm. Their armour was largely unadorned but many had icons of the holy hammer, Ghal Maraz, somewhere about their person as a sign of their faith. As is the Sigmarite way each wielded a one handed war hammer with practised ease. Next came the regular state troops, the Halberdiers and Crossbowmen headed by Captain Conrad Dietrich. The Halberdiers wore armour similar to that of the Soldiers of Sigmar except many wore slashed sleeves and trousers over their chainmail, the sleeves were coloured in the red and blue of Altdorf. On their heads most wore wide brimmed red hats similar to those of the Greatswords; all wore helmets, hat on top or no. Each of the fifty eight Halberdiers had their namesake weapon resting against their shoulder as they marched. The Crossbowmen were the lightest armoured of the soldiers many wearing just chainmail and helmeted hats for protection, some who had scrounged, looted, or in rarer cases saved up enough wore breastplates. The twenty Crossbowmen in the column would fight in the traditional style as a detachment of the Halberdiers; they would protect the parent units’ flank or cut down the charging enemy troops with a hail of bolts. Finally, bringing up the rear were the supply carts and their valuable cargo. The first three of the eight carts held the armies war machines. The Celestial Wizards could not ascertain the exact position of the Tzeentch Sorcerers and so it had been deemed necessary to provide siege breakers such as the two Cannons and a rare Hellblaster Volley Gun in case they were hidden behind the walls of a settlement. Naturally in order to keep said Hellblaster from exploding, as they were well known for, an Altdorf Engineer had accompanied the army. Markus could see the man, named Otto Erholt, sat next to a cart driver. He was engaging the unfortunate man enthusiastically, holding up his repeater pistol and showing off its rotation mechanism as the cart driver tried in vain to follow Otto’s ranting, let alone comprehend half of what was said to him. On the fourth cart back rode the Light Order Magistrate Willhelm Rekthofen; his Wizard Staff lay across his legs and the elaborate white and gold trimmed robe of the Light Order billowed slightly in the wind, Willhelm was of similar age to Markus himself as they were both in their mid-forties. While Markus had rugged features as would be expected of a Warrior Priest his friend was the opposite, while still fairly well built he was tall, lean and with a vast amount of long white hair in stark contrast to Markus’ shaved head. Beside Wilhelm sat his apprentice who was dressed in a similar fashion. Markus had yet to learn the apprentice’s name since the last time Markus and Willhelm had been on campaign together was half a decade ago, this apprentice was new. The speed with which the army had to embark had not left much time in the way of introductions. Strictly speaking that was not entirely true since they had been introduced just that Markus had been in the middle of muster and in all honesty was barely paying attention, the apprentice’s name began with a K or something. In the distance the sound of pounding hooves and gun shots had ceased, a brief cheer could be heard and the thuds of galloping horses started up again. The Pistoliers crested the hill with their Outrider leader, Theodore, in the lead as he led them back to Markus. He was pleased to see all six of his scouts had returned. While the followers of the dark gods generally shunned ranged combat they were not beyond flinging axes or the odd hunting bow. An injured scout could only hope for a quick death if one shot got lucky and unhorsed him. Theodore reigned in his horse as he reached the head of the column pulling up alongside Markus. His beard barely disguised the broad smile spread across his face. The black horse he rode upon snorted, its breath gushing out in a cloud as it flicked its head to the right. Theodore was equipped with similar gear to his Pistolier charges; breastplate, feathered helmets, tassets and slashed sleeves in the white and grey provincial colours of Reikland. The main exception though was Theodore preferred a simpler non-feathered helm with cheek guards which extended down to his voluminous bushy beard. “I see you have engaged the enemy Theodore” Markus said evenly, his voice not betraying his irritation. “Yes father, I am pleased to report the enemy lies just beyond the crest of that hill and their cavalry have been dealt with” Theodore replied still smiling as his horse snorted once more and stamped at the ground. “Good, next time I would prefer it if you reported to me before engaging the enemy and giving up the element of surprise, how many are there?” Markus said, the severe tone in his voice beginning to show through. “Ah yes, my apologies father, but they saw us as soon as we crested the hill so we thought we would take first blood” the smile had faded somewhat as he continued. “There are roughly a hundred tribesmen who are readying themselves as I speak, both sorcerers paid no heed to our presence but they have a bodyguard of six Warriors of Tzeentch which could be a problem. Father, the spell they are casting . . . well it’s unlike anything I have ever seen” “Very well, thank you Theodore move to the right flank as I have the men formed for battle” Markus turned away as Theodore snapped off a salute before galloping off with his men towards the flank. By now the column was beginning to crest the hill and so Markus turned to his men and bellowed his command. “Soldiers of the Empire, form for battle!” Immediately his officers set off at a run to join him, further back with the carts the two wizards could be seen running past the column as it unfolded into battle formation, robes trailing behind them they rushed to join the armies commanders. Canterlot industrial district, Equestria Trottingham Guard Captain Forlorn Wind turned to the ponies behind him; he currently had command of some twenty guardsponies from in and around Trottingham, he had served with most of them for a good few years and knew their capabilities well. He could trust them and more importantly for their current situation he knew enough about them to recognise each of them by voice and mannerisms alone. With Princess Luna taking half of Canterlot’s guard to doggedly pursue the larger bands of fleeing changelings Forlorn had been transferred with his fellows to Canterlot to help root out any changelings that had gone to ground within the city limits. “Right then lads the tip-off said the suspicious pony had been seen entering this warehouse, there’s a good chance this one’s a changeling since the witness said the foolish thing actually changed shape in public for some stupid reason” Forlorn said to his stallions. They in turn chuckled at his briefing but quickly reassumed the thousand yard stare the guard were known for as he continued. “I’ll lead team one in through the entrance, Sergeant Summer will take team two through the rear simultaneously with teams three and four forming a perimeter from above to ensure he doesn’t get out. Remember to check your numbers, this enchanted armour means if he changes he’s gonna look exactly like one of you so make sure there’s only five in your squad, that was the tactic which gave the Canterlot Royal Guard such problems in the first place during the invasion. If in doubt tap the armour, they can’t form metal only imitate its appearance.” His ponies nodded in unison, each knew the drill by now but it paid to remind them, nodding in turn Forlorn pushed off flapping his wings steadily and turned towards the target warehouse just beyond the small office building they had taken cover behind. The layout of the area was typical of the outer section of any major city in Equestria, being the home of Canterlot’s admittedly small industrial sector many factories, warehouses and the lower grade housing made up the area. Unlike the palace and the rest of Canterlot proper the industrial sector was situated at the bottom of Canterlot Mountain. This consequently had made it a prime location for changelings that had gone to ground; already the guard had gathered over a dozen in the palace dungeons who were awaiting expulsion. Team two accelerated overhead in order to hit the warehouses rear door at the same time as team one. Teams three and four took flanking positions high on either flank, spreading out to form a ring around the building. The warehouse itself was filled with furniture for some local company; the changeling had likely chosen the place due to the comfort it afforded. ‘Honestly’ thought Forlorn ‘seen changing form in broad daylight and choosing its hiding spot according to comfort . . . . it was like the damned fool wanted to get caught.’ Swooping low over the dull red bricked office building he glided in silently towards the warehouse. Quickly assessing the situation he was relieved to see the skylight was sealed and the majority of the windows around the warehouse were of the sort that allowed only for partial opening, so no chance of it making a break for it through a window at least. Looking up he saw team two perform a rapid Split S manoeuvre in perfect formation, rolling inverted and then pulling away under the lip of the building they passed from sight. “Hard and fast lads, here we go!” shouted Forlorn as he tucked his wings in a dive to gain speed and raised his steel shod hooves to batter down the front door. With a resounding crack the doors were flung open and his team sped through after him immediately fanning out either side. From the far side of the warehouse he heard Summer crash through the back door. A black blur rocketed upwards from between two stacks of beds as the changeling made a break for the skylight, both teams set off at full speed towards the fleeing changeling, wings blurring at the effort and shouting in alarm. ‘The damned thing was actually going to try and break through the strengthened central glass window’ thought Forlorn. Sure enough with a sharp crack the changeling smacked head first into the resilient spell treated glass; briefly sticking against the window comically spread hoofed. It then began to fall back towards the ground unconscious tumbling end over end as it fell. “Mine!” bellowed Forlorn Wind as he shot forward, powerful wings propelled him as he matched his trajectory to that of the falling changeling. The rest of the squad fell behind somewhat, unable to keep us with their Captain they watched as he calmly pulled up underneath the limp form. Front hooves outstretched he caught the changeling easily, wings becoming a blur in order to support the additional weight. “Well done Captain” Sergeant Summer called out, he perched himself on a tower of beds as the rest of team two hovered overhead having also raced towards the falling changeling. “As you can see though the heroic attempt to catch that daft wretch was hardly necessary” he chuckled pointing with a hoof below the Captain whose eyes followed the line to see the entire floor between the two walls of stacked beds had been filled with yet more beds as the changeling had evidently made a makeshift nest, stolen food was scattered across the majority of the beds. Obviously the changeling had resorted to eating normal food rather than its species preferred method of feeding. One mistake the foolish creature had avoided at least. Barking out a laugh Forlorn replied “yeh suppose so, good work everypony, even if this idiot did do most of the work itself.” Eliciting a laugh from his fellow guardsponies he dropped the changeling allowing it to fall harmlessly on to the sea of beds below. The shock startled the changeling into consciousness, its eyes opening blearily. The Captain dropped down beside the bewildered creature. He towered over the changeling menacingly as he blocked out the sun from the sky light, his armour clad frame filling up all available space as he slapped hoof cuffs across its holed legs. Lowering his neck to bring his face level with the changeling he stared into its glassy blue eyes, Forlorn’s eyes narrowed in turn as he stated in a grim tone but with a stiff smile playing across his face. “You’re nicked sunshine”. Eastern Shadowlands of the Old World Markus took a moment to clear his mind as his officers gathered; the two wizards were the last to reach him, having run up the hill from their cart at the back of the column. He waited a second to allow the apprentice to get his breath back before beginning to walk up the last stretch of the hill. “I see your apprentice has not prepared himself physically for this expedition Willhelm. Knowing you I would have thought the lad would have been trained in perfecting both body and mind” Markus said gruffly looking over at the panting apprentice. “Yes, evidently Kurt has been neglecting the more military aspects of his training, rest assured he will be gaining the experience to make up for it in the coming days” Willhelm replied as he stamped his staff on the floor in emphasis. Grinning sheepishly Kurt kicked his robes from under his feet and quickly turned his gaze downward when he realised the very serious demeanours of every veteran officer was directed presently at him. By now they had reached the site of the cavalry skirmish on the hills plateau and their walk across it was broken up somewhat by the bodies of the fallen marauder cavalry. Roughly twenty horsemen’s corpses were littered across the area. Some of their mounts lay dead too, or whinnied in terror from wounds which prevented them from escaping. Markus stopped briefly to calm a particularly distressed horse with a few quiet words and a pat on its head, before putting it out of its misery with a quick stab from his dagger. Markus shifted his attention to his council. “Anyway, over the crest of the hill lie the two sorcerers, they are deep in casting and are unaware of our presence. They have some one hundred tribesmen and six Warriors of Chaos each marked by Tzeentch, they however do know we are coming”. Each of the officers present nodded in acknowledgement as Markus continued, “We have every advantage with the exception of surprise so our forces will march half way from the hill crest to the enemy with ranged support taking advantage of the elevation further up. From there it will be the business of Magistrate Willhelm and Kurt here to attempt to dispel the sorcery at work. The enemy will be forced to attack or flee and will be destroyed in short order”. Pieter let out a laugh before he replied, “simple enough, but since when has Chaos ever allowed for our planning?” “We have every advantage Pieter, have a little faith” answered Markus causing the assembled officers, Pieter included, to smirk in turn at the priests words. As the officers began their descent with the army at their backs they looked down on the force milling about below them. Theodore’s assessment had been right, roughly one hundred tribesmen were gathered below, tugging on armour, swinging weapons threateningly or drinking from casks at the centre of their camp as they prepared for the Empire armies’ advance. But it was not the main force which had the attention of the armies’ leaders on top of the hill; it was the work in progress by the two sorcerers behind the lines which first caught their eye. A roiling ball of malevolent magical energy, easily the height of three men was suspended in the air, the ball hummed with power as it rotated and changed colour. One second it was bright blue with black lightning bolts coursing through it. Within a few moments it pulsated, turning a deep purple while white bolts of lightning whipped across its surface. Pulsating again it flashed pink and what appeared to be waves spread across the sphere as it shimmered with latent power before pulsating again. The two sorcerers could be seen either side of the sphere both wearing thick armour plating which appeared to also be changing colours though black and blue. They stood with arms outstretched each feeding more power into the spell. Their helmeted heads remained fixed on the spell before them, they had failed to notice the army gathered on the hilltop as they fought to keep the power flow steady. Some distance away stood six more plate clad figures. Their armour however was much more imposing; horns or blades protruded from their helms, some of the horns were attached to the helmets themselves while others appeared to have grown through them. All wore spiked pauldrons which were disproportionally large compared to those of their plate clad counterparts in the Empire’s lines. Their chest plates had a range of sigils; some had eyes set into them which appeared to flick around looking at the marauders in front, others a mixture of demonic skulls or gaping mouths. The warriors bore an eclectic mix of weaponry; from left to right two held wicked curved swords with giant square shaped shields, the next one dual wielded sword and axe. The other three held a mix of giant menacing pole arms. “Captains Conrad and Pieter return to your respective regiments. Same for you Gerhart” each officer snapped off a salute to Markus’ command before heading off to join their units. Markus turned to address the engineer, “We will not have time to deploy the artillery Otto so feel free to act as you please” Otto Erholt nodded and replied “in that case I shall join the Crossbowmen father”, turning to the wizards he simply bowed his head “good day gentlemen” he said and headed off towards the advancing ranks of the state troops. Markus had noted Willhelm’s grim expression earlier and so had left him and his young charge to the end. Locking eyes he read the uncertainty in the magistrates face. “Are you sure you can dispel that ungodly sorcery Willhelm? you appear uncertain old friend” questioned Markus. Kurt was evidently surprised to hear Markus questioning his masters’ ability and glanced sideways in concern. Willhelm hesitated before replying immediately “I know you would rather hear the truth father so yes I am uncertain. The amount of power they are throwing into that spell is tremendous, it’s reaching towards a point somewhere, like a gateway spell, but they are trapped in the spells matrix themselves. I cannot tear it apart; they barely have it under control as it is.” “Then what would you suggest?” asked Markus Willhelm turned to look at the pulsing sphere, the area around it appeared darker, as if light itself was being sucked into it. Turning back to Markus Willhelm smiled, “Oh I think I can come up with a solution, just don’t get too close to that thing ok”. “Good man, Sigmar guide you my friend” replied Markus. Clasping arms they then turned to take their place in the battle lines. Markus with his retinue, the two wizards further up the hill near the Crossbowmen. By now the tribesmen had formed ranks and were bellowing at their Empire counterparts in their crude guttural language. Without orders from the sorcerers and with the Tzeentch warriors remaining impassive they had yet to make a collective decision about the larger Empire army stationed half way up the hill. Markus looked around at the assembled troops; he had taken the centre with his Soldiers of Sigmar. To his left were the Greatswords and to the right the Halberdiers with their Crossbow detachment behind them preparing to fire. Holding his war hammer high in the air he signalled the start of the attack. Immediately the Pistoliers set off at a gallop around the beleaguered Chaos worshipers left flank, crossbow windlasses were cranked and raised. The Empire’s ranged troops took aim and fired. The first volley struck hard into the Chaos followers’ ranks. Bolts flew in at the front; penetrating what little armour the tribesmen wore, thrusting them into their comrades behind and breaking up their formation. The Pistoliers' lighter volley, however from much closer range punched into the Marauder flank. With the enemy being so tightly packed the lead shot shattered skulls impacting those behind them and forcing the Marauders to crowd together as they shied away from the crack of the pistols. A bestial roar erupted from the undisciplined mob as part of the centre and their left flank charged up the hill towards the Halberdiers, enraged by the Empire fusillade. Markus took this as his cue and stepped forward. Behind him Willhelm had begun to glow with a bright white light as he held his staff in one hand and his other arm outstretched towards the evil magic at work below him, he was muttering under his breath as his apprentice helped channel magic into him with his own staff. Markus looked back on his troops, hammer held aloft, his dark bronze plate armour surrounded in a faint golden outline. “Men of the Empire, the servants of the Dark Gods come. Each of them are willing to die for their cause, let us see that they do. For Sigmar, for the Emperor, for the Empire!” “For the Empire!” his men roared in reply. As if on purpose Willhelm released his spell in time with the soldiers’ battle cry. A blinding white light streamed overhead impacting the right hand sorcerer with explosive force, knocking him to the ground. The sorcerers’ channelling was stopped but Willhelm’s beam connected with the warping ball of Tzeentch magic, the lightning that coursed across the deep blue surface cracked and sparked before disappearing. Ominously, Willhelm’s spell began to react with the Chaos magic turning the sphere black. The ground began to shake and a black spike erupted from the swirling maelstrom of magic ascending into the sky impossibly high as it cracked through the grey cloud cover, causing it to swirl around the spike. The fallen Tzeentch sorcerer staggered back to his feet but began to convulse violently. Markus however could not see the malevolent light show unfold as the impetuous tribesmen who had charged off were coming into close range with the Halberdiers and Soldiers of Sigmar. Captain Conrad’s repeater pistol could be heard cracking three times as three charging men fell to the ground in response, a final volley of bolts and pistol shot hammered into their lines reducing the initially sixty or so strong force to just over thirty. The Halberdiers lowered their pole arms to receive the charge while the Soldiers of Sigmar locked shields, many traced out the sign of the holy hammer on their chest in the seconds before the clash. The relentless mob crashed into the waiting blades of the Halberdiers breaking like waves on a rock face as the veteran state troops jabbed forward from the second rank while the first received the charge directly, using their numbers and skill at arms to break the crippled force. The sweeping charge brought some of the Marauders into Markus and his waiting retinue. Bellowing for a counter attack his men broke ranks and assaulted the disrupted Chaos lines, using their shields as battering rams they knocked aside the spent enemy relying on their fellow troopers to finish off the fallen with merciless blow from their hammers. Markus at the head of the formation weaved through the enemy with practised ease, his mighty war hammer aglow with light as it trailed behind him. Bringing the hammer up in a crushing low arc he sent the shaggy bare chested man before him flying into the air as his splintered shield sent shards of wood flying and his arm disintegrated into a bloody pulp under the force of the impact. Allowing the hammer to continue to rise he twisted his grip to bring the hammer down on the next foe, who had attempted to use his fallen comrades failure to come in under the arc of Markus’ swing. It was not to be however as the tribesman could not beat the speed of the blow and with a sickening crunch the top of his bald scarred head was caved in. Bone fragment exploded outwards from the force of the blow, the glowing hammer causing blood to spit and hiss as it sizzled from the touch of holy fire. Markus shoulder barged the falling corpse aside as he recited litanies of destruction before thrusting his hammers’ head into the stomach of the rearmost warrior, doubling him over as the sword fell from the tribesmens' grasp. Air burst from the mouth of the haggard, helmeted barbarian before him and Markus brought his hammer down with a high blow which crushed the warriors’ spine, breaking his back and killing him instantly. As suddenly as the melee started it was over, the Soldiers of Sigmar rolled up the Marauder flank from their central position and the Halberdiers tore apart the charge with ease. Captain Conrad Dietrich getting the final kill as he performed a mercy stroke with his broadsword on a mewling, disembowelled warrior. It was after Markus’ third kill that he noticed that something was wrong. Bringing his retinue back into line turned him to the left so that he was facing the site where the two Tzeentch sorcerers had been casting their nefarious spell. They were no longer there, in their place was a shimmering portal that showed a dense treeline on the other side. The Tzeentch followers were nowhere to be seen, but their tracks and the stares of the troops around him told Markus where the rest of the Chaos forces had gone. They had made their escape into the portal and Sigmar only knew where it led to. “Ah Pieter was right, the forces of Chaos never do allow for our planning” muttered Markus, a ghost of a smile spread across his face and he brought a gauntleted hand up to his bald head to wipe some of the tribesmen’s blood off with a rag. Taking a few steps in front of the army he turned to see his men looked to him with bewildered expressions. Markus took a second to assess the situation before speaking. “Form a perimeter around the portal, nobody is to go anywhere near it without expressed permission. The enemy may have eluded us for now but we will not walk into an ambush for the sake of our pride!”