Warhammer-Gotrek and Felix 01-Trollslayer by William King

Author:William King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2010-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Blood and Darkness

‘After we exposed the cultists of Slaanesh in Fredericksburg, and incapacitated several of their minions, we ventured back onto the road to Nuln, leaving our former tormentors to the less than gentle mercies of their fellows. I have no idea why we settled on that mighty city as the terminus of our travels, other than perhaps because of the fact that my family had business interests there.

‘During one roadside halt in a tavern, Gotrek and I decided, perhaps foolishly in hindsight, that we should avoid the main road. Inevitably, and perhaps predictably, our drunken decision to take a circuitous route through the forest led to disaster.

‘In our desire to avoid any possible encounter with the agents of law, we wandered far from the normal haunts of man, and ended up deep in the forests, in an area long thought to be the site of a Black Altar of Chaos. Little did we suspect when we set out that we would soon meet with startling proof of that dire fane’s existence, and also that we would soon do battle with the most powerful of all of the followers of Darkness we had yet encountered…’

– From My Travels with Gotrek, Vol. II,

by Herr Felix Jaeger (Altdorf Press, 2505)

When she heard the approaching footsteps, Kat concentrated on making herself smaller. She squeezed even more tightly into the tiny space between the stone blocks of the tumbledown building, hoping that the beasts had not come back. She knew that if they had, and they found her, this time they would kill her for certain.

She wriggled further into the shadowy recess until her back was against stone. The rock was still warm from the fire which had burned down the inn. She felt a small measure of safety. No adult could squeeze into so small a hiding place, certainly nothing as large as the beasts. But they could always reach in with their spears or swords. She shuddered when she remembered the one with tentacles instead of arms, imagining the long leech-mouthed limbs questing like great snakes to find her in the darkness.

She grasped the hammer-shaped amulet that old Father Tempelman had given her and prayed to Sigmar to deliver her from all snake-armed things. She tried hard to block out her last memory of the priest, fleeing down the street, carrying little Lotte Bernhoff. A horn-headed giant had impaled him with a spear. The weapon had pierced both Tempelman and the five -year-old, lifting them into the air as though they were weightless.

‘Something terrible has happened here, manling,’ a voice said. It was deep and gruff and harsh, but it did not sound like the feral snarling of a beast. The accent was foreign, as if Reikspiel were not the native tongue of the speaker. It reminded Kat of the strangers she had once served in the inn.

Dwarfs, Old Ingmar – who fancied himself a traveller because he had once been to Nuln – had called them. They had been short, not much taller than herself but far broader and heavier than any man.

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