White Dwarf - Issue 48 by Games Workshop

Author:Games Workshop
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: games workshop, white dwarf, warhammer, hobby, 40000, citadel miniatures
Published: 2014-12-09T16:00:00+00:00

Vauss Fenaelen awoke to meet his wife’s terrified gaze; her face was blurred with sleep, her emotions writ large nonetheless. He had been woken from uneasy dreams of bleating and biting, but his relief at the horrible vision’s end died as the noise outside broke upon his consciousness. It was a din as if every one of his livestock were giving birth at once. Worse still, it was getting louder.

The farmer scrabbled out his tinderbox from the warped wood of the drawers by the bed and struck a flint, carefully lighting his storm lantern and cultivating the flame. As light flowed out, golden and reassuring, the cacophony of shrieks, screams and bellows outside suddenly stopped. Vauss met his wife’s gaze once more, her eyes white in the gloom. She’d retrieved the pickaxe from under the bed and was clutching it with hands that shook like those of a fever victim. The farmer took her cue, stalking quietly to the opposite wall and taking down his old military sabre. The blade slid from its scabbard with a soft and reassuring hiss.

“Daddy?” came the timid voice of Katyin from the hallway. A small face poked around the corner of the bedroom door, her auburn curls glowing like a copper halo as she stepped into the light. “Daddy, Gertrude’s trying to get in.”

Suddenly the shutters burst open with a bang and a goat-headed monster bleated black hate into the room. Devil-eyes rolled red in a veined and distorted skull, its head wildly lolling as blood-flecked foam spilled from its gnashing lips. Two disgusting hoof-hands scrabbled for purchase as the creature pushed up and into the room. Alongside it came the fang-stretched muzzle of a horse-thing, battering the right-hand shutter to splinters with its heavy, ridged head as it loomed inside.

Katyin screamed as her mother rushed forwards, slamming the pickaxe’s point into the forehead of the goat-thing. It gnashed and tore at her clothes for a moment before convulsing violently, yanking the pick from her palsied hands. A crash of crockery came from the kitchen, and for a moment Vauss looked down the hall and back again, paralysed with indecision. In that spare second the horse-beast pushed its muscular torso against the outside wall, grunting with effort. The bricks gave way in a tumble of mud and straw that filled the room with dust. The horse-creature fell inwards, its knife-like fangs sinking into Atte’s shoulder. Her scream mingled with the hellish barnyard noise that had started up again from the garden outside.

Vauss lunged forward, his blade sinking deep into the horse-beast’s eye socket. It thrashed and shivered, hooves clattering as the farmer yanked out red steel. Teeth still locked, the creature’s corpse bore Atte down into the scattered clay.

Before the farmer could react a leering porcine face emerged from the dust, drooling blood from its flabby jaws. The creature that had once been Heinrich the black pig stalked unsteadily into the room on hind trotters. Still screaming, Katyin flailed upwards and hit the side of the beastman’s head with her doll.

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