//------------------------------//
// Chapter Twenty Five- Dreamspace 
// Story: Horn and Hammer 
// by Lancer 
//------------------------------//


Chapter Twenty Five



Dreamspace


Canterlot, Equestria

The sun beat down unusually hot over Canterlot. It made conditions especially bad for those out but for Pieter in his heavy plate armour, giant zweihander sword strapped to his back and all the other weapons and equipment he routinely carried it was exceptionally acute. Of course the reason for this was well known, Celestia had made it happen. It was part of the troops training regime. Most of the soldiers were out on endurance training. It was well into the afternoon and the field hospital was full with ponies suffering from heat exhaustion, they were being taken to their limits.

Pieter found himself strolling down the camp’s main thoroughfare, two files of soldiers galloped past him. They were sweating heavily, their fur glistened and their strides were loping and heavy. Pieter walked on happily enough though, throwing a lazy salute to the captain who drove his soldiers onwards. The Royal Equestrian Army was really beginning to come together in Pieter’s opinion, there seemed to be a spirit of hope and camaraderie that green human soldiers lacked. Once or twice he had even heard them singing by the thousand, seemingly spontaneously. Adequate results and good intentions only counted for so much though, Pieter would form his opinion when the Equestrians were put through trial by fire.

He was heading for the Ponyville/Canterbury lines grouped into the Sixth Central Legion. The newly sewn banner of the Sixth could be seen fluttering in the fair wind. Upon it was the symbol of the two princesses circling the sun and moon on a white background, ‘Sixth’ was written across the top. 

Turning down a path Pieter saw the signpost for the Ponyville/Canterbury camp. Forlorn had stuck around training the recruits in light of his experience with them in Ponyville and that he had begun training there. It made sense but Forlorn had been assigned the entire Third Pegasus Legion, the fact he could conduct such exercises with just a cohort of the Sixth Legion while at the same time settling into his command of the entire Third was staggering, or worrying, but Pieter had faith in his friend.

“Forlorn” he yelled, jogging through the tent rows and into the small parade ground. His friend gave him a wave and beckoned Pieter over; the curious thing to him was that over the forms of ponies doing drills Pieter could not make out his friend’s helmet. 

Only as he began walking around the lines of ponies did he notice what they were doing. They were all stood on their hind legs, grouped into pairs and facing each other. It was an odd scene, watching one of the pair try to topple the other while trying to maintain balance. When one pony fell backwards it actually looked ludicrous and Pieter had to suppress a laugh but it very quickly made sense. It was something that Pieter had become increasingly aware of during his own sparring sessions with ponies; once Pieter got them off of one set of hooves they were almost certainly beaten. A savvy fighter could apply pressure to the unbalanced pony and knock them to the floor, having done it to Forlorn and recruits a number of times Pieter could appreciate his friend’s foresight.

When Forlorn came into view Pieter almost stopped still. The pony had a bruise across his chest and notably wore no armour. The bruise was small and barely noticeable but it caught Pieter’s experienced eye. Forlorn wore his armour almost habitually like Markus, especially so during training, for him to receive such a bruise was suspicious and warranted Pieter’s concern. Pushing that matter back until later Pieter walked up and gave his friend a bright smile and a lazy salute.

“Good day Major Wind!” he called accelerating into a lunge and embracing the stallion, lifting the protesting former captain clean off the floor and drawing a pained gasp. With a jolly laugh he let the pony down and drew a fist bump from Forlorn. “You’re looking a little battered my friend, a little naked too.”

“Yes well its been a long few days mate, barely got the rear-guard out of Manehattan with the last batch of refugees” replied Forlorn.

“And that resulted in the giant bruise? Anyway, congratulations on your promotion my friend. Major Forlorn Wind, Commander of the Third Pegasus Legion. You officially outrank me; it’s a damned good job we serve different superiors” laughed Pieter.

“Ha bloody ha Pieter. Thanks all the same though, getting a full legion of pegasi is a massive responsibility, I will be up to the task.”

“I do not doubt it.” 

“So where did you get the mark then?” followed Pieter with a snide smirk.

Forlorn shook his head with a weary smile. “You don’t stop do you?”

“Would not be where I am today major.”

“Urgh, keep it to Forlorn, Pieter. Alright, if you keep it to yourself then I’ll tell you. Do not tell my superiors ok? Well I’m getting my armour fixed after running into a griffon scouting patrol in Manehattan.”

Pieter’s eyes lit up immediately. “What in Sigmar’s name were you doing there?”

“Kinda got it into my head to go see the griffon army coming into Manehattan, you know see what my dad’s been dealing with? Sounds daft and I really bloody see that in hindsight but I never expected them to sweep the city so quickly.” The interest in Pieter’s eye encouraged Forlorn to launch into a full explanation and a rather in depth description of Forlorn’s fight with the griffon patrol at the captain’s request. Forlorn wanted to believe it was out of professional curiosity but Pieter’s bloodlust was probably an equal factor.

Pieter could only nod along, enraptured at his friend’s daring and dangerous deeds. It amazed him to see the pony captain he knew from that first frantic fight in the Everfree progress to the hardened soldier that could stand up to him in a fight when so few others could. The pony before him was one of the best Equestria could call on; Markus had told him so when they talked about the composition of the REA’s officer structure before his council with Celestia.

With a genuinely approving smile Pieter congratulated his friend. They bumped their fist and hoof respectively.

“I think this calls for a celebration” said Pieter, raising an eyebrow encouragingly.

Forlorn inhaled deeply, running a tongue across his teeth. “Pieter, no. Not after last time, you’re not taking me to another pub. Coming back to find that, that slaughterhouse, was terrible. That thing is still out there Pieter; you’re on its list. You can’t be out in the open at night. I have enough to worry about with my dad trying to fight his own war in Trottingham without my best friend putting his own at risk right here.”

“But it is the best pub! It is dark, dingy, has comfortable seats by a warm fire and the landlord offered me a tab! Immediately! And a drink on the house as a human soldier Forlorn!” 

The sight of a giant, armoured man, one of the deadliest and most fearsome beings Forlorn had ever met practically bouncing up and down actually got Forlorn laughing. He laughed long enough that the ponies he was drilling finished sparring and stood around expectantly. 

With a sigh and a chuckle the pony looked the human in the eye. “No, Pieter. Not while the Revenant is still around.” It was then that he saw the regiment of Ponyville and Canterbury ponies were standing around awaiting further orders. “Oh, same again soldiers another ten minutes but switch partners.” 

The regiment trudged about briefly and continued once more with their sparring. The nearest few pairs took a while to get properly into the drills and it very obviously appeared as if their attention was split between the two officers and the task at hand.

“So Forlorn, I suppose this would be a good time to tell you that Luna is attempting to use the signature of the dead Revenant to track the . . . erm, undead one.”

“Great, your point being Pieter?” responded Forlorn with a perplexed expression.

Rather than respond the human captain looked out at the parade ground and his eyes settled on a sparring pair nearby.

“You two!” he called, beckoning over a pair of ponies from a few files down the line and instantly earning a scowl from the major beside him.

“This again?” muttered Forlorn going an almost imperceptible shade of red.

Pieter rounded on the two ponies, looking the pair up and down. He had called over Big Mac and Roseluck, the latter of which kept glancing over at Forlorn and Pieter had to bite his tongue to stop himself laughing. “Private Macintosh” he declared, “Go to the castle, ask for word from Princess Luna on how her research is progressing, tell them I sent you, I have the necessary clearance.”

Macintosh gave a crisp salute and cantered off through the lines of tents. 

“So Private Roseluck, have you seen Major Forlorn’s war wounds?” Announced Pieter jovially, slapping Forlorn’s bruised chest to draw another pained gasp from the wide eyed and betrayed Forlorn.

“Pieter you, lying motherbucker, you said you’d keep it to yourself!” hissed Forlorn, glancing sideways at Roseluck who wore a look both of surprise and concern.

“Actually I said I would not tell my superiors and you telling me was not contingent on me telling anyone after, only before.” The swarthy grin earned a jab from Forlorn which clanged off the plate but it did stagger the human briefly. 

“You were in a fight?” asked Roseluck, staring concertedly at the slight blemish on Forlorn’s chest. Stretching out a hoof she very nearly pressed it against the deep blue fur but recoiled slightly, remembering the impropriety. 

Pieter walked off at that, content to supervise the soldiers and darting his eyes back as the pair awkwardly spoke. It honestly brought a smile to his face, the two of them clearly liked each other and both were innocent or shy enough to be hesitant about it. Of course rank was probably an issue but this war was not about professional armies, these were militia in essence, the only professional ponies were the Royal Guard. 

Addressing the regiment Pieter sent them off on a light canter around the camp.  He looked back on his friend to see Rose performing some form of earth pony magic on Forlorn’s bruise. It was certainly strange that every pony could manifest some form of magic, but everything about this world seemed much more innocent and wholesome. Their greatest weapon drew power from friendship, their towns were all equine puns and even their own fur was bright and vibrant to match their architecture. In fact if Pieter could say anything about this world, he would have called it endearing, certainly something worth fighting for compared to the cold, hard life he led.




Canterlot Castle, Equestria

Twilight stood before the heavy oak door, shivering with nerves slightly. She had been summoned to the chambers beneath the castle by Princess Luna, a matter of vital importance according to the messenger. She wrapped her hoof on the door once, twice, and then a voice rang out from inside.

“Enter!”

Pushing the door aside Twilight entered. Luna stood there in a dirty white coat which covered most of her body. Her flowing mane, full of the stars and bathed in moonlight had become lank, tied into a bun and retained by a protective net and its colour turned to a pale azure.  She stood beside an old stone slab, overlaid with a white cloth. Upon the table lay the form of a griffon, shards of metal intertwined with broken bone. 

“Hello Twilight” called Luna. She pulled aside a mask and gave the unicorn a broad smile. “Will you not enter?  Oh and pass me that cup of tea would you please? There is a containment barrier raised and casting magic is quite impossible through it, at least not without great strain.”

“Erm, sure thing Luna” replied Twilight, caught completely off guard. It was possibly the strangest scene Twilight had ever seen, scratch that, Pinkie Pie was her friend. “I was told this was of vital importance?” she questioned.

“Of course, cupbearer is a historically prestigious position in the court.”

Twilight’s shocked demeanour drew a jovial laugh from the princess and she waved a hoof to reassure the unicorn that she was in fact joking. The pair smiled and Twilight walked towards the princess. 

“So what did you need may I ask?”

Luna for her part held out a hoof towards the wall behind the smaller mare. “I need help with my research Twilight. My sister has told me of your aptitude in the scientific fields and I wanted sompony I could trust. There is a lab coat on the hook behind you and my tea really is on the other side of the barrier, you will have to balance it on your back.”

“Okay, no problem Luna.” She donned the clothes, tied her mane and set a cool cup of tea on her back before crossing the containment field. A strange tingling sensation, like static, passed over her and momentarily she lost all sense of magic capacity. It sent a chill down her back but much more quickly an altogether more unnerving feeling crept along her spine. 

Before her, now fully in view, was the creature which had earned so much dread amongst the ponies of Canterlot. She had heard tales of what the creature was; a hybrid of metal automaton and griffon but nothing came close to matching the raw, visceral sight of the abomination lying still on a stone slab.

“Horrifying is it not?”

“Yes” Twilight gulped back bile at the twisted corpse, “yes it is,”

“I cannot tell as I did not know the griffon but my sister said this is one of her agents. Likely the other two are her other agents as well, it would explain why intelligence has been so thin on the ground.”

For her part Twilight could only nod along and levitate the tea onto the table side, she took in the rest of the room and found distraction in the fascinating array of machinery on display. It easily surpassed her own motley collection for obvious reasons, the very best equipment on the market was set out. There were even some machines that were very much not available, nor even known of commonly and Twilight knew exactly what was for sale on the common market; she kept the magazines under her bed, she had the subscription. Thaumaturgical devices from matrix scripters to, well whatever the giant glowing wall of floating orbs was responsible for and a myriad of similar high spec arcano-tech machines decking the walls in gleaming silver and flashing light nodes.

“Admiring the equipment?” asked the princess smugly.

“Well, yes. I’ve never seen equipment like this. I can’t even tell what half of them do let alone recognise them.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Luna asked, lowering her voice to an uncharacteristically subtle whisper and leaning in close to Twilight. 

“Half of this is not scheduled for release for another fifty years.”

“What!? Why? Are they still prototypes?” 

“No, fully complete and tested. Their release is held back by law under the Development Act, a sad throwback to my last footfalls on this planet before rightly being banished. Before you ask my rebellion was formed in the wake of vast social and technological change, the role I performed and the circles I travelled in had become obsolete, of course the rest is history as you know it. I think it scarred my sister, the turbulence born of the period pressed her to control Equestria’s development in a very . . . strict manner.”

The revelation staggered Twilight, she gaped in shock, even hurt.

“I am afraid so.”

“But, I, I don’t understand. She held Equestria back? She has done for a thousand years? Why?” Her voice rose in volume, increasingly irate and something beyond just incomprehension, the idea that Celestia would hold the country back like that; it struck a painful chord with her, betrayal.

“Twilight look at our history. The country has stood for a thousand years, never drawing the ire of nations through military or economic might, never undergoing societal instability or revolution. We have had stability and prosperity. Across the ocean to the west the deer have a crippling problem with narcotics, to the east the khanines and griffons have fought and drank themselves into massive social problems. Do you see that here? We live in a veritable utopia. I may not agree with the extent of the inhibitors but you have to admit everypony is safe, happy and protected.” She placed a dark hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, the contact snapping her out of a stunned daze.

“But, I mean, so long . . . Really? So much progress.”

“Yes, it took me a while to adjust compared to the dark days before. Even as outdated as I am, a relic of a forgotten age, I have a role now. Safe to say that as old as I am, I have done much growing up, but I digress. Could you hold the Revenant down please Twilight, there are certain items I need to access and I’m having trouble concentrating with the interference the creature causes.”
Twilight was somewhat put off by the request but with a gentle nod of reassurance from the princess she reached out tentatively with her magic to grab the twisted frame. Trying not to look at the body she glanced away as Luna moved to extract something. It was surprisingly hard work, she found herself having to concentrate intently on exerting force on the body, almost like she would forget otherwise. The longer she held it though the worse the sensation became, her vision began to blur and purple tendrils seeped into her vision. With a strangled cry Twilight leapt back and released the griffon.

“Twilight! What is the matter? Are you hurt?” Luna instantly dropped the item she carried, a rune inscribed metal spine, and rushed over holding the little unicorn in her forelegs. She stared into the mare’s eyes, shining a light cast from her horn. Luna had to focus but as Twilight’s wits returned she could have sworn she saw a dark colouration fade from her pupils.

“Wha . . .” With a yelp Twilight jolted alert. 

Luna held Twilight’s head in her hooves as the little mare focused on the princesses’ own face. A little smile reassured the stunned unicorn.

“My apologies Twilight, I did not think the enchantments were so potent as to affect you. Are you ok?” Luna flashed her horn and wrapped Twilight in a pale blue glow checking her over for a trace of the evil magic she had encountered. With a delicate grunt of approval she stood up, dragging the other mare to her hooves. “I checked you over, you are fine, your element is more than capable of fending off residual magic.”

“Urgh, thank you princess. What was that? I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“That was the curse placed upon the Revenant to help it resist magic. It is why I needed your help, removing the spine is necessary to separate it from the . . . additional organs, which serve the aforementioned purpose. It is a very delicate process, too delicate for me to perform alone.” 

“Surely you can rely on resident archmages Luna, I mean dark magic is hardly my forte.” Twilight’s expression of doubt was actually something of a surprise to her. She was the Element of Magic after all; knowledge of all magic was supposed to be her specialty.

“True but none of them have an Element of Magic residing inside them to protect them. Besides I would have thought you would have some understanding of this magic?”

Twilight blushed with embarrassment and rubbed her foreleg awkwardly. “Yes well, I never saw the point before now. Celestia keeps all that material well away from anypony who isn’t an archmage.”

With a half growl Luna turned back to her work muttering under her breath a vow to talk to Celestia later on.

“Was that all then?” asked Twilight, standing awkwardly beside the princess nonchalantly drinking her tea after heating it back up. 

Placing her tea back on a shelf Luna gave Twilight a quick look over. “You may leave if you wish, but I could use you in pursuing my research now. Time permitting I could teach you a thing or two my friend.”

“Sure thing Luna, I’d love to see what you’re working on and try out some of these machines.”

“Excellent, good help is hard to come by.  I am currently isolating the Revenant’s core, this runed metal spine, to extrapolate the magical signature away from whatever is generating the magical resistance we have encountered. From there I can track the third Revenant, now that we have it though I foresee no barriers from here on, we should be finished within an hour or two.”

At that moment there was a knock at the door and a large red earth pony stallion emerged in plate armour which revealed his straw coloured mane poking out the back of his helmet. He gave a swift salute and addressed Luna impersonally.

“I come under order of Captain Pieter von Grunberg. Beggin your pardon princess but he wanted to know how long he could expect to wait until you could find the final Revenant.”

“Big Mac?” queried Twilight. 

“At ease soldier” added Luna as she levitated the spine into a chamber atop a machine, sealing it in afterwards.

Big Mac removed his helmet and gave Twilight a happy nod and smile. “Eeyup. Nice to see ya miss Sparkle, how’s mah sister if you don’t mind me askin?”

“She’s fine Big Mac. She came to Canterlot with the rest of the girls a few days ago, safest place in Equestria right now.”

“Really? Ya’ll got her to leave the farm with nopony to tend it? Didja hogtie her first?”

With a short laugh Twilight shook her head. “No, no, no, and I think she called in a few Apple family workers and Cheerilee is still helping out what with the disruptions to school recently.”

“Soldier” called Luna, returning from the machine she had used. “Some quick testing shows the Revenant has returned north, how far I cannot say for certain but it is easily a day away and likely back with Chrysalis. I assume that will do for now and we can end the embargo on target’s movements. I can give a more definite location with a few hours’ work.”

“Thank you princess, ah’ll return by your leave?”

“Yes, yes, by all means soldier. Come Twilight there is work to be done.”





Canterlot, Equestria, Five Hours Later

With a crash the wooden door of the pub burst open, silhouetted in the opening was Pieter von Grunberg  and just behind him a weary Forlorn was dragged along in his wake.

“Bartender! Two pints of your finest ale and whatever my friend wants too, I have come for your tab!”

“Celestia damn it Pieter. Fine, I’ll take a cider on his tab.”





In a rush of wind and shattered branches Pieter burst through foliage at a sprint. The clarion calls of hunting horns sounded behind him spurring him to run yet faster. He seemed to glide over the rough terrain, leaping from firm earth over roots ever aware of the sound of pounding hooves behind him. The forest was impossibly dense, trees stretched to well over twenty metres in height and barely a ray of sunshine penetrated the canopy.

He glanced left and saw a dark horse like shape rampage through gaps in trees, the unmistakeable shape of a spear held aloft. He checked right to see a similar sight, brown coated hindquarters highlighted by a stray ray of sun. Some distance past another horse shaped creature stood watching him, barely silhouetted so dark was its coat.

The chill grasp of fear gripped him and he pulled the bow from is back, drawing an arrow in his other hand he continued to flee. The sound of combat rang out before him and hope kindled his spirit. Pieter had never hoped that his men would have made it out of the ambush, he had to find them, he had been fleeing through the forest for days and was under no illusions he probably would not survive much longer.

The sound grew louder at a painfully slow rate, his legs ached and heart hammered in his chest. He just seemed to be pounding forward, never making any ground but with his enemy closing in all the time, it felt hopeless.

But as despair began to creep in a faint light appeared, glinting through the gaps in the dense bush and towering trees. It felt familiar, yet out of place. No matter, it was his best hope and he continued to weave between trees, gaining a little distance over the pursuing hooves, all the while the pale light grew more solid and brighter. He could hear the noise of battle, t6he braying of the enemy and the distinctive sound of Markus Holstein wielding his hammer.

The fact that this made no sense had no effect on Pieter, all he knew was that survival meant reaching the light and under his rapidly failing body he brought up his last reserves.

Pieter could see a band of lithe goat headed warriors emerge to his right; cantering forward on two bowed legs they rushed to join the fray. Markus stood alone; Pieter could only see glimpses through the thick foliage but what he could see gave him some semblance of happiness. Standing tall and as implacable as ever Markus fought against the Beastmen scourge from atop a grey tomb. His giant hammer glowed with its signature golden light and for every connection it made a blast of white light burst forth and every strike bit hard into its target.

Pieter ducked under branches and vaulted a fallen bough, searching for his commander as a ditch took him out of sight. An ungor was sent flying high enough to be silhouetted as a shadow on the flash of white, the sight almost caused Pieter to cry out in joy and he scampered up the ditch’s muddy fascade. The anguished roar of a Gor rang out, accompanied by Markus’ litanies of destruction yelled with spite.

The young captain grabbed a thick bushel of foliage and yanked himself bodily the final metre, rolling through the scything thorns of the bush and flinging himself to his feet expecting to enter the fight beside Markus, instead the sound of battle was gone and the pounding of hooves returned. Before him lay an ancient village, the tombstone that Markus had stood upon lay silent and unmarked. There were no fallen bodies, Markus was never here.

But Pieter had to press on; Markus could be further inside the village, making a break for the strange settlement at the heart of the Drakwald he jumped onto the tombstone, vaulting it entirely and turning to see a centigor bearing down on him. With the body of a horse and the chest of a man the beast had closed the gap quickly with its spear raised high and a snarl on its bestial face. Pieter had lost the arrow he held crossing the ditch and drew another one, notching it and pulling the string taunt in one fluid motion. A light release sent it flying into the tough hide of the centigor’s foreleg, slowing it briefly.

Turning and running into the ruins he notched a second arrow, checking his surroundings all the time. Nothing about this felt right, the village was ancient yet made of sleek white stone almost elven in architecture and had stood up very well to the test of time, the only indication of the age was the weather damage and the vines which snaked up the faces of buildings. The sky was overcast where before there had been enough sun to cut through the trees. More than this though there was a strange tension in the air, he knew he was being watched, the centigor was recovering and charging him again but this was something else.

The roar of the injured centigor shook him from his reverie and he turned on the spot firing again and striking the beast’s abdomen. This shot barely slowed it and with twenty metres separating them it limped forward on its injured foreleg, the arrow Pieter had put there quivering as the bunched leg muscles moved around it.

With ten metres between them Pieter fired again, aiming for the injured leg as the centigor raised a shield to cover its face. The arrow struck home and a pained grunt exploded from the centigor’s lungs but still it came. The beast charged, its hobbling gait belying its speed. Its spear was leveled and shield brought into guard as Pieter backpedaled, pulling one more arrow from his quiver. 

Five metres from the beastman Pieter chanced one last shot, aiming low once more and sending a black shafted arrow spinning into the centigor’s knee joint. The beast collapsed immediately, tumbling to the ground in a spray of dust and cries of agony. It landed with its back to him, the spear lay broken beneath its giant frame and the shield had been flung well away. Pieter seized his chance and rushed the final metre, drawing a knife and slitting the centigor’s throat. He immediately turned and ran for the centre of the village when he saw two more centigor emerging on either flank, they were attempting to cut him off.

The centigor disappeared from sight as Pieter ran through the village. There was nothing for it but to run as fast he could and hope to escape the village before the beastmen could get ahead of him, the rest of the hunting party could not be far behind and hiding in the ruins would only last as long as it took them to sniff him out and they had an excellent sense of smell.

He got as far as the village square before they caught up with him. 

In truth he was flagging hard, he was barely running at more than a jog and was hyperventilating. The centigor were as fast as a horse and with the endurance to match, they closed in on either side of him, spears and shields raised just like the last one. 
Pieter felt weary to his bones, the pain in his chest was growing and dozens of little cuts and scrapes flared up now that he finally stopped running. This was where he would make his stand, there was no running from the two beasts, not now, he was exhausted and his window of escape was gone.

The quiver over his back was lowered and placed on the ground, he sank to one knee and notched another arrow sending it sailing into the right hand centigor, a shaggy haired beast with ram horns protruding from its head and several flasks of what Pieter could only presume was some fermented drink swung by the bare chest. It looked the least protected of the two, having glanced at the pair Pieter had gone for the unarmoured one first, a better target for his arrows.

His first arrow went wide, the distance was long and his hand shook with exhaustion. 

He grabbed a second arrow quickly, silently cursing his initial failure and sent it on a true path striking the beast’s chest, he was too tired and the distance too great for him to make a crippling shot. 

Aware that the other centigor was likely pressing towards his rear he fired the third arrow which thudded home in beside the second causing the warrior to bray harshly and lower its shield. Pieter notched his fourth and spared a moment to aim properly, sensing a chance he sent an arrow spiralling though the air to strike home in the centigor’s neck. It clattered to the ground holding its throat, but died within seconds.

“Yes!” shouted Pieter, turning on the spot to face the final pursuer. 

This one was a true beast of Chaos. It was taller than the others, wearing dark, blood-stained armour of segmented plate and chainmail. It carried a two handed axe bigger than anything a human could normally carry. 

Pieter sent an arrow at the creature but it glanced off the plate armour. The beast was only twenty metres away and closing fast. He fired again, sending it with as much strength as he could muster, this time penetrating the chainmail over the horse section of its chest to thud into the hide beneath. The centigor only snorted in derision, white mist erupting from the gaps in its helmet from heated breath.  Pieter fired again, just ten metres away hoping to drive the arrow into his enemy’s helmet. But the centigor swung its armoured head aside and the arrow clattered off the beast’s horn harmlessly. 

The centigor charged in, hefting the broad headed axe and shouting a guttural curse in its harsh language.  Pieter tried to take one last shot, rising to both feet and back stepping  but it was a shoddy attempt born of speed and fear, it scraped off the armour, scoring a gouge but nothing of worth. In response his adversary closed the final gap and swung the axe vertically in a mighty swing. Pieter had to dash back, holding his bow up in guard. Still he was not quite quick enough and the axe smashed his hunting bow in two and he tumbled over backwards. The hooves stamped down on him, one cracked against his chest, the light armour he wore taking the blow but pain lanced across his chest. 

He drew a knife; the beast was too close to him for his sword. He could smell its putrid breath, laced with the stench of meat and alcohol. The knife flicked out but the beast drew back, shielding its leg from his attack. It swung the axe once more and Pieter managed to propel himself across the ground to dodge, he lashed out in turn and drew blood from the centigor’s arm causing it to cry out and swung the wounded hand in to Pieter. Bunched, sinewy muscles made for a powerful attack and Pieter was left stunned on the floor, the knife rolling from his hand.

Rearing up the beastman took the axe in both gnarled hands, ready to swing it down one final time.

An arrow shaft flashed silver in Pieter’s blurry vision, piercing the centigor’s helmet and burying itself in its brain. The beast fell silently then crashed into the ground dead.

His vision seemed to swim around him but Pieter retained enough wits to see a figure detach itself from the broken roof of a building. It fell lightly the one story fall posing no problem. It was human in shape but its figure was distorted by a green haze. It approached him silently, the being becoming clearer as it neared and Pieter recovered. 

She wore a bizarre garb; a cloak lined with leaves that blended seamlessly with the trees behind, it was a mixture of browns and greens that made focusing on her figure difficult. Pieter could tell she was female though, enough of her bare skin was on show, her hips were too lithe and a pale green vest bulged where men did not. 

The woman approached across the square, unstringing her bow and placing at her back. It was a beautiful bow, Pieter had an eye for such things and the longbow she carried was a work of art, definitely elven in origin, but what an elf was doing here was beyond him. 

Pieter dragged himself to a sitting position, gasping for breath and eyeing his protector.

“Thank you” he gasped, pressing a hand to his injured chest.

“You are welcome human” she replied, holding out a delicate hand. The woman wore a dark cloth, wrapped across her face so that only piercing green eyes could be seen between her ginger hair and the fabric.

Pieter took it gladly and she pulled him to his feet.

“You will follow me young officer. The beastmen will not come here, at least not as rashly as those three.”

So under her urging Pieter followed. She led him to the building that she had fired from. The door had long since fallen away and the white edifice was broken by dirt, bush and vines. Inside it was equally decrepit, two rooms could be seen on either side of the entrance and both held nothing but windows and cobwebs. She led him up the staircase; all that remained was the stone steps built into the wall as the banister lay half rotten on the floor.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her speech was curt and neutral in tone. The woman, in Pieter’s mind an elf, likely of Athel Loren and the Wood Elves.

“Yes, but exhaustion is the problem, been out here for days now. Lost my men . . . how safe are we here?” he asked, taking a seat on a stone block, she sat down opposite him, removing her facewrap and lowering the leaf strewn hood.

She revealed the rest of her face, her jawline was angular and sleek with thin, pink lips and the tell-tale pointed ears of an elf. 
“Safest place in the forest right now, this is a sacred place, enough of my brethren watch over the village and we have a spellweaver. Why are you here human?”

“My name is Pieter von Grunberg, Reikland captain. Had reports of increased beastmen activity, I was sent with a regiment to crush the raiders. There were more than we thought, I am the last of them.” Pieter gave a weary sigh, putting a hand to his dirty forehead. “Do you have water?”

The elf threw a flask from her belt. “I am sorry to hear that. You were indeed misinformed. This is part of a larger host, moving across the Drakwald and gathering for a campaign. My name is Seras Althar. I will be honest, my comrades were not so eager to help you, this is a sacred place outsiders are not welcome. You will leave tomorrow, healed or not, understand.” 

Pieter could only nod meekly; taking a swig from the flask first he then threw his gear to the ground, removing his shoes and shirt, his bare chest revealed a deep purple bruise born of his late foe's hoof.

“You are a good archer” Seras said, watching him with interest.

“Thank you, as are you, although that is to be expected of the Asrai. You are a long way from Athel Loren, your kin rarely leave the forest, let alone cross the mountains”

“There is much about the Asrai you humans do not understand, that is how it will stay. Rest Pieter von Grunberg you return to the forest tomorrow.” She rose to her feet and walked towards the window, looking back to the human and sparing him a half smile, the closest to a display of emotion she had shown. “I am sorry for your bow; I saw your pain when the beastmen broke it.” She seemed to pause for a moment as if weighing a thought. With a sigh she ducked around a corner to return quickly with a bow stave and string in hand. It was an Asrai longbow, similar to her own, the stave was almost bone coloured, wrapped in foliage and dulled golden bands. “Without a bow you will die out there, my saving you will have been for nought. There are arrows by the window, take as many as you need. This is on the provision that you never mention us, I will trust you in this human.”

As she went to hand him the bow Pieter shot his arm out, taking her hand in his and causing her to start. 

“Thank you Seras Althar, I owe you my life. I will bear the request with utmost secrecy.” He stared into her eyes, releasing her hand with a nod. 

She stepped back from the human, pulling up the facewrap and hood. “Rest young Sigmarite, your trial begins anew tomorrow.” 
Seras walked calmly towards the window again, stepping out onto a ledge and pulling herself over the top.

As she left another figure entered, a tall purple horse-like creature with a horn and wings, not unlike the dark pegasus of the dark elves. It became quickly apparent who this was, and Pieter realised he was dreaming.

“Luna?”

“Hello Pieter” she replied, fashioning a seat from nowhere, leather backed and a deep violet in colour, to sit before him.

“I am dreaming, yet I know this is a dream.” Pieter was thoroughly perplexed, suddenly everything felt more real, less like a memory. 

“Yes, I am currently dreamwalking Pieter, it is akin to a form of magic. I use it to look over my ponies as they sleep, but I found you in the throes of a nightmare and forgive me but I thought I could ease your sleep.” Luna appeared sheepish, unsure of whether her trespass was offensive to the human.

“This, this is a recurring dream. But I have never seen Markus before. It always ends here though. But no Luna, I am not angry, just confused.”

“I was drawn to your dreams by the emotion, such despair; I had to walk in your dreams to see for myself and help if I could. Markus was my doing, I could not stand by anymore, I wanted to give you hope. I shall take my leave captain.”

Pieter nodded lightly. “Will I remember this?” he asked, thumbing the elven bow.

“Likely so. I sense you are inebriated, I find that makes the dreams more vivid. Goodnight captain, tomorrow we plan to fight the enemy.”

“Goodnight Luna”