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How my Nurgle Warriors of Chaos army actually started is rather lengthy and not yet fully complete, but I hope to post it as well sometime in the future. This is a small piece of fluff explaining how my Chaos Knights joined the army.
Sorry, it's SUPER long. Please forgive any spelling/grammar errors.
This should be obvious, but in case it's not, the point of view is from a Bretonnian character. The enemy they are fighting is my army.
The Following is a recount of the sacking of Boulon, at the foothills of the Grey Mountains...
Countess Marie de Bouchard gazed out the tower window with a newfound nostalgia. Often Marie had ridden her horses in the green fields north of town, the cool mountain breeze had cast her auburn hair about her shoulders like a great tempest. She then turned her head to the East, beholding the serene, wooded valley that led into Boulon with it's many twists and turns. Many a summer evening she had strolled through the quaint wood, taking in the sights and sounds of the forest. For there, along the charming valley floor ran a small stream where she and the count first met, and often returned upon their anniversary and other holidays. That same stream, now, she knew ran with blood. For it was last night in that valley that they had first clashed with the rotten and festering warband that assaulted her home.
She jumped slightly, realizing how long she had been daydreaming and forgetting the more pressing task at hand. Stretching her hand out the window once more, she beckoned the magic to flow through her again. Her fingers tingled slightly, and she grinned coyly as the subtle energy traveled up her arm and swiftly filled her entire body. The Countess flicked her wrist, tracing patterns in the air outside her window, then, feeling that the Lady's blessing was fully upon her, she expelled the magic out through her fingertips. A great bolt of lightning blasted out from her tower window and crashed with a loud boom into a group of wild raiders battling with the peasant militia. A roar echoed through the peasants ranks that drowned out even the thunder and heavy rain and they surged forward into the gap in their enemies line.
Though she was delighted to give her faithful attendants that slight advantage, her heart still sank as the full gravity of the situation revealed itself to her. The once green field was now filled with death and decay as the battle played itself out below her. The militia fought with an intensity and valor unheard of for some decades, pushing back the vile marauders that stunk of pestilence and rot. The Countess was sure that her husband would reward its commanders handsomely. On their left flank, the glorious Knights of Boulon surged forth, cutting down all who stood in their wake.
How could this paltry raiding party hope to defeat the seasoned garrison of Boulon, who had won battle after battle against Orcish foe? How could they hope to set foot inside the castle walls, built about an ancient shrine to the Lady, and guarded always by the valiant Grail Knights, who had yet the need to join the fight? So high in Her Lady's favor were they, that last night, as the castle prepared for siege, the knights were visited by the Lady herself at a pond in the Western Wood! She blessed them in the coming battle and gifted each of them with a powerful suit of armor that shone with a golden light. How could these simple foot soldiers hope to defeat such a mighty and blessed host?
Down in the fields below, the Knights of Boulon, led by her brave and just husband, Count Edward de Bouchard, broke the enemy. It was truly uplifting to see the knights galloping full speed after their fleeing foe, slashing left and right with abandon as they push forward. The diseased enemy before them scattered into the wood.
The militia was not having such fortune smile upon them, though. A fresh host of warriors had charged from the wood, not like the ones already on the battlefield, but adorned in green plate mail that boasted many horns, and their arsenal was great. This new enemy held an axe or sword in each hand, already crusted with blood. They leapt into the combat with a reckless bloodlust, cutting down all who stood before them, including their much smaller allies, by comparison. The cries of the militia were terrible and grisly, often to be silenced before they were finished.
Then, amidst this newfound madness, a hellbent shriek that pierced the soul temporarily stalled the tide of war. Marie gasped as the unhallowed cry shattered the crystal goblet on her table. She narrowed her eyes, searching for the cause, and it was not hard to find. Atop a small rock, Garonne d'Hulon, captain of the guard, lay lifeless at the feet of an immense warrior, clad in green armor like that of the new enemy. In his right hand he held high a banner written in a strange tongue she did not recognize, but this paled in comparison to what he held in his left. He was firmly gripping a large flail, the head of which glowed with an eerie purple light. The Countess gave a small cry as she realized what was happening. A blue, ethereal figure in the form of Garonne was being pulled from the lifeless body and sucked into the flail. After several seconds passed, which seemed lengthened into years by the ear-splitting scream, the blue figure disappeared into the weapon and the screaming suddenly stopped. Tears cascaded down Marie's face for the death of Garonne and the terrible fate he endured afterwards. The peasant militia broke rank, praying not to share the same fate as their captain, they began to run.
Fury surged within her, Marie again started to trace runes in the air as she heard the furious roars of the Grail Knights still within the castle, who were know mounting their warhorses to ride and meet the wicked warrior king in battle. She felt the magic flow through her yet again, fill completely within her. The Lady demanded this man to die. Then, just as she aimed her finger at the man, she felt a tug at her soul as all the energy within her was sucked from her body before she could finish the incantation.
A cracked and cynical voice echoed in the recesses of Marie's mind, "The Lady that you so fondly worship is nothing more than an aspect taken on by the Dark Prince to trick mortals into praying to him. Father Nurgle does not disguise himself so, he is plain for all to see. Behold! And witness his power!"
Spotting the new threat of the iron plated warriors led by the fiend with the banner and flail, the Knights of Boulon reformed and charged. All was well as the Countess stared at their glory, the wind tossed their flags and banners high into the air. The clouds parted then, gleaming brilliantly off of their shining armor. All was well. But suddenly then the ground beneath them transformed into a sickening green muck, dragging down horse and rider.
She saw then who had been speaking to her. At the edge of the wood, a short man cowled in blood red robes was fiercely shaking a staff decorated with the faces of the dead and dying. She reached again within herself, and sighed thankfully as she saw her fingers began to glow with that pale white light she had known all her life. She waved her hand over the field, asking for the Lady's aid, and it was granted. The green bog that hand appeared so suddenly on the field re-transformed into a simple grassy slope. The horses regained their footing, and doubled the fury of their charge, shouting the names of the fallen.
It was then that the Grail Knights rode from Boulon, their blessed golden armor shining like beacons in the storm. Magnificent to behold, the rode at a full gallop through the streets like a procession of the gods and out towards the field. The peasants cheered and cried as their saviors had come. Some grabbed pitchforks or scythes and rushed after them, hoping to die in battle beside those living saints.
She could not help but grin, if this was all their enemies could muster than they would be slaughtered to the last man by a massed charge of knights on both flanks. She looked out and again spotted the mysterious robed figure, what could he hope to do against such glory. She stretched out her mind and called to him, "There is no hope for you now, the Grail Knights ride to war, and your champion will fall."
He cackled in reply. His laughter echoed deep within her mind, and she could not help but be concerned, "Come, Prophetess, and witness the folly of man. Trust." As she watched, he reached deep inside his robes, dropping his staff, and pulled out a small fist-sized item. As he crushed it, a red liquid oozed from his clenched fist, and he thrust it towards the Knights so recently blessed by the Lady of the Lake. Screams erupted from within their ranks as the golden armor that was gifted to each of them made a loud hissing sound and began to turn a sickly shade of green. The peasants that followed fled for their lives. Marie watched as Sir Guy of Parravon attempted to remove his helmet, and by doing so stripped the flesh from his face.
She worked swiftly, tracing the most sacred runes of protection in a wild attempt to stop their armor from fusing to their skin. As she did so, horrid visions flashed before her eyes; visions of a dark forest fertilized with the dead, filled with unspeakably horrible trees that were all shades of purple. She knew this magic was beyond her power. The Countess watched in horror as the last of the knights stopped struggling and the final piece of armor bound itself to his soul, though they did not die. Immediately, the Grail Knights changed the course of their charge. They cascaded like a rushing river directly into the remaining Knights, who were already fighting for their lives against the green-armored warriors.
Terrified though she was, she continued to watch as her friends and comrades were cut down savagely by the traitors. The Knights were surrounded, and all was lost... Then the fighting ceased, and she choked on her tears when she saw what all the combatants had stopped to stare at. Atop the same high rock where Garonne's body lay, her husband, Edward de Bouchard, was circling the man with the banner and flail. Fear crept through her. Words were being said, but Marie could not make it out. Edward pointed his sword at the champion and shouted something, and in return the man stabbed the banner into Garonne's body, so that he could take out a shield that was strapped to his back. The man then roared at such a volume Marie could make out the words by listening closely.
"Fool! I have walked in The Tainted Garden! I have spoken to those that have left the mortal realm! I am chosen to bring the final plague upon the world! And you DARE to challenge me!?!"
The two leapt at each other, and the clash of steel rang through the hills. Marie could not bring herself to watch; she turned to face the door leading out of her room and slumped against the wall. Tears streamed down her face as she listened to the roars of encouragement from both sides, desperately listening for a sign... A shriek that cut her soul, much like the one Garonne had made, came up through her window from the field below.
She crumpled into a sobbing heap on the cold stone floor, all sense of hope leaving her. The sounds of battle continued outside, though she did not know for how long. Eventually, shortly after her throat became cracked and dry, she heard cries suggesting that the enemy was inside the castle. The time that passed could have been minutes or hours, it did not matter to her. Her fate was sealed, and she knew it.
The latch on her door clicked softly. She did not even lift up her head, but merely glanced with her eyes to see who was at the door. A short, thin man with wild black hair that was balding on top, and one eye that seemed to be slightly bigger than the other was standing in the doorway wearing blood red robes and holding a sickly looking staff.
Rage surged up within her, she flew across the room with a speed never experienced before, and, drawing a dagger out of her dress, stabbed the wicked sorcerer in the chest. The blade ripped through the red garment, but broke off at the hilt on something hard concealed underneath. The man smiled malevolently and seized her by the throat.
He cackled again in the same sickly way he had in her head, "It's funny, really. How pathetic men can be. All I must do is disguise my self as this Lady of yours, and the champions of your nation rush to the waters edge and grovel at my side. Accepting my daemon laced gifts with repeated mutterings of thanks and praise. Hah! Such fools they were, but now they are mine, and better for it. Come, It's time to meet this Lady of yours."
"Stop." A voice called from behind him, not cracked or wicked, but human, and haunting in a very strange way. The voice of the champion from the duel. The sorcerer immediately released her. The man who killed her husband stepped into the room. He was half again as tall as the robed man and twice as wide. His armor was inlaid with gold etchings and skulls hung from several places. Though he wore a helmet, Marie could feel his gaze upon her.
"But my lord, we can leave none alive, HE demands-"
"Silence," the champion said flatly, and his voice echoed through the small room. Marie strained her ears to hear the knight muttering to himself, "So much like my sister..."
Marie backed away slightly, not sure what to do.
The robed man circled around the champion and appealed to him. "But sir, she must die. It is his will."
"No, she does not," The champion said flatly as he reached out to graze her cheek with his heavy gauntlet, "she is Nurgle's daughter, and he does with his children what he will."
As the metal touched her cheek, she suddenly broke out into a sweat. Both men turned to leave the room, the champion lingering shortly to look at her again. Then both vanished down the hall. There was suddenly an itch on her arm, and as she pulled up her sleeve, several boils formed there.
C&C are very welcome. Tell me what you think of it/questions you have,
Last edited by DarKnife; July 25th, 2009 at 01:46.
Well, it certainly is long. But it doesn't seem that way when you get in to it, because it all flows quite nicely. I don't really have any criticisms because it seems fine as it is.
Perhaps I have one or two. One, it does seem to stop rather abruptly; was there more to this and you just cut it down in order to post it?
My second is that I don't like Nurgle and thing it would have been cooler if you'd used Tzeentch, but that's just my personal opinion and can be safely ignored!
Yeah now that I reread it I realize it doesn't finish strongly. The betrayal of the knights was supposed to be a large turning point in the battle and end it quickly, but I notice my writing ends quickly at that point too.
The reason they are Nurgle has a lot to do with the champions reference to his sister, which I'll post whenever I get around to it and get it more fleshed out. And also because Nurgle is super cool!
Other comments an criticism are appreciated, I'm really trying to improve my writing so be lethal!