Chapter 1: Prologue

Now, was probably not a good time to be bored. Archeon the Everchosen had come down from the Chaos Wastes with a thousand warbands and was ravaging the north of the Empire as he made his way down towards Aldorf, the seat of civilisation. And while that was happening, hordes of barbarians poured in from the Sea Of Claws and were now raiding Nordland. There were even auspices in the stars that they were going to lay siege to Middenheim and then spread outwards from there. Obviously, that could not happen, and so Captain Estaria and her men were sent there as reinforcements. A grand Battalion of men and women, Horse, Cannon, and Shot were on the road. And even a small squad of Greatswordsmen, that had set out from Middenheim on a task for their Elector Count. They didn't offer what, so Estaria didn't pry. But even with the looming threat of Norscan attack at any moment, Estaria was bored.

She was never meant to be a Captain, never wanted to be a Captain. She wanted to stay with her handgunners, and her goal was to join the Nuln Ironsides, and wield the greatest firearms Man had ever grasped. She liked guns, she was good with guns, she felt comfortable with the cracking boom of a gun and she was deadly accurate with her beloved guns. But, the tides shifted and instead of what she wanted, she got promoted to a Captain after one particularly bloody skirmish in which she showcased a mad zeal and perchance for inspirational violence, and it wouldn't do for the Captain to not lead from the frontlines. So all she had was a single pistol for cases when it was needed. Maybe that was why she was bored. On long marches, she would play with her pistol, ensuring it was in pristine condition, ensuring that her bullets and powder were kept, ensuring that she was able to get it ready when called. There was never a shortage of things to do with her pistol, but here on the field as a Captain, she had scant little.

Suddenly, snapping her out of her thoughts, there was a smell of smoke in the air. She ordered her men to make ready and approached cautiously. When they arrived, they saw a village being raided by the Norscans. One of many in this part of the Empire. Usually, Middenheim would send out large patrols to contest them, but with the threat of siege, it had drawn its men back. Estaria gathered her men to her and delivered her orders. A well-disciplined line formed up, and the Norscan raid was disrupted by a raking volley of Empire Handguns. It was amusing, to see the look of surprise on their face a moment before it was erased by the metal projectile. Soon the village disgorged its raiders, bare-chested or lightly armoured men with large weapons charging towards the Empire line with reckless abandon, throwing themselves into the hail of gunfire and not breaking step as their comrades fell around them. If there was one thing you were forced to admit, it was that these Norscans had courage. Heavy northern muscle then smashed against the tough Southern metal of the Empire Shieldwall, and the slaughter began. Estaria lost the ability to see the whole picture, as it was thrown into a flurry of blades, blood and mud, potted with the boom of guns, the scream of death and the slick of sword separating limb.

Estaria's blade bit deep into the chest of one man, and then she kicked him off her sword, freeing it for a second. Her shield blocked the second man's axe and her arm trembled from the force but held enough for her to open his throat with her blade. Pushing back the initial charge, Estaria ordered her men into the village, to clean it out and save anyone who could be saved. The men charged with her and then dispersed into the maze of burning hovels. Estaria herself crossed the street and passed death until all the wind was knocked out of her and she was blown off her feet by a giant man with an equally giant hammer. Coughing and trying to get her breath back as the man lazily approached, Estaria rolled over and pulled out her pistol, firing it at the giant, and puncturing his helmet, sticking the ball into his head. For a second, he just stood there, and Estaria worried that his fell gods had given him inhuman resilience. But then with a great crash, he fell over. Taking a moment to recover from his blow, Estaria stood and shook off the last of it. Reloading her pistol, it was replaced in its holster and she moved on, to the village square. It was the centre of the village, and maybe some had decided to go there for ease.

Once arriving, she realised nobody had chosen to go there, as the square had been turned into a makeshift altar, where a man in red armour stood, matching axe with sword as one of the Greatswordsman duelled him. Estaria wanted to pull her gun out and shoot him, but his fight with the Greatswordsman made it too hard to get a good shot. One Norscan decided to try for her life and got a sword through the face for his troubles, only moments before the Greatswordsman lost his footing for a moment, was disarmed, and then lost his head a moment afterwards. The man in red armour looked over as Estaria dispatched another two of his raiders, and bellowed.

"I am Zarh, Blood-spiller of Khorne! Come face me all who dare!" the man's voice was like thunder and his confidence was overwhelming, but Estaria didn't allow herself to be daunted. If she could kill him, the rest of the raiders would fall apart without his leadership. And so she shot him in the head. Though, the Warriors of Chaos wore great suits of armour with fell durability, and it knocked him a few steps back, but otherwise did little. With no other recourse, she rushed in, meeting his axe with her shield. But the blade was sharp and his arm was thick, cutting through her shield, the vambraces beneath it, and finally nicking her arm. Next cut, would take the arm off. And so she swung with all her vigour and strength, but her blade simply clanged against his armour without puncturing it, and she got a boot in the chest for her trouble. The chest plate was already dented from the hammer, and her ribs didn't feel like they could take any more punishment. 

 

But Sigmar was watching over her, as when she was booted off her feet, she landed close to the sword that had been disarmed from the now dead Greatswordsman. Quickly ditching the rest of her gear, she grabbed it and swung it in a great arc, screaming as it descended on the man closing in on her. The sword cut through armour and bit into flesh, but not deep enough to stop him. That wasn't an issue though, she had a weapon that could hurt him now. Or so she thought. The next moment was the longest moment in her life, as he crushed her chest plate with his axe and buried it deep into her flesh. Gripping the greatsword with all her strength she pushed down on it, but her arms refused to move, and the axe was pulled out from her chest. The world went grey, sound muted, and then everything faded away into the dark.

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