this was an entry in the OWC Christmas Tornument. Enjoy!

Velykxak glanced over the field, he was glad he had strayed from this fray. He had watched as the Empirical general, who had so desperately asked for his help, was slaughtered by the Chaos charge. Maybe if he had … no, he would have not made a difference. He looked up to survey the field. He motioned in silent hand code, and a handful of wood elves he had brought along moved into position. The remaining Chaos rot would not get to his enclave’s domain. They would fight to the last one, for they knew that victory was survival. He glanced over the field again, seeing the bloodied corpses of the now forgotten, the now lost. He called upon his god, Tenebrion, and summoned the shadows from around him. He jumped upward and landed swiftly, silently on the shadows. He moved out of the trees, and towards the nearest body. Blood, black with the taint of Chaos, ran freely from his wounds. Velykxak looked over and saw that each human was the same. He stood and looked into the darkness of the forest, motioning hand codes to those within. “Move out,” said the codes. Velykxak jumped to the air again, and hovered over the shadows. He urged them forward, towards the main part of the bloodied field. He landed a short while later, and again surveyed the field. He heard a cry and glared off into the night. There, not to far away, a Sigmarian Priest and Chaos scum battled for their lives. Velykxak may have not offered his services to the humans, but he could still help them. He jumped forward, onto the shadows, and flew towards the fray.


Finally, he has reached it. The priest can sense the end. The sun retreats from his plight, and the flag dances merrily above him in the breeze, snow capping the top of the stave as he makes his final stand. He knows he cannot win, and yet he knows he must. He knows he cannot forgive failure in the face of Sigmar. He fights on, ducking a blow, sidestepping another, parrying a third. Smites an enemy, flings another to the sky, crushes a third in a counter. Knocked down, wounded. He rises, shaking, fights on. He cannot stop. Sigmar guides him. The followers of chaos quail before him, and he strikes, kills two more. He knows no mercy. He throws himself forth, breaks one, two, three. Hit, falls prone. He is struck in the arm, the chest, and the neck. He feels his consciousness leaving him. He smiles. He will be true to his word. He will be the last. He spits, sees the axe fall. Finality.


The Priest opened his eyes; death had not claimed him this day! He looked up to see a dark elf, sword in hand, pushing away the hated Chaos. “A strange ally,” he thought, then, he drifted from consciousness.


The clash of Ayiceno against the Chaos’ weapons rang true in the night. With a swift cut to the side, then a reverse backtrack, Ayiceno cleaved the rot’s flesh. It came high and finished the job as the cold metal sliced through neck. Velykxak looked over his fallen enemy, and then turned towards the wounded priest. He flashed out hand code into the night, hoping someone would see him. The Priest opened his eyes and looked up at Velykxak. He muttered, “Leave me, I’ll just slow you down, now, quickly, get out of this place.”
Velykxak looked into the Priests eyes and replied in the human tongue, “Your commander once asked for my aid, o noble one, and your Lord shall receive it.” He heard a shuffle behind him and spun, Ayiceno in hand. From the darkness came his group, flying on the shadows. “He is badly wounded, we must get him to a safe place. “You must take him back to the guild for treatment,” Velykxak told Linandir, his second in command. Linandir nodded and turned to the others, ordering the movement of the body.
Velykxak scanned the darkened field, searching for any other survivors. A figure appeared in the darkness, then another, and another. They were coming. Velykxak turned back to his companions, “We must move, now!” he commanded them. They scooped up the body and made a run for the trees. They needed to reach the guild. Velykxak turned and fired his hand crossbow into the night. He heard a body fall and continued to run. But the Chaos were gaining, he knew his brethren would not make it out of this day alive.
The group continued to run, even after reaching the forest. A few moments later, they came upon and small hill covered with trees. “Here is where we make our stand, for the Chaos come, but they will not leave,” shouted Velykxak. He turned to Linandir, “You must go, my friend, carry the message of the Chaos to the guild, and warn the surrounding villages.” Linandir nodded obediently and flew off into the darkness. Velykxak heard the Chaos drawing near, and drew out Ayiceno. He turned and flashed the code for his men to ready their weapons. The first wave of Chaos came forth, charging right into the bow fire of the Shadow Riders. Velykxak jumped onto the shadows, and flew to the battle, and his death.


The Priest opened his eye, the sounds of battle filled his ears, and he looked across to see the elves, which had carried him from death, now defending him with their lives. He glanced to his left; to see the one they called Velykxak. Velykxak fought bravely, but the Priest could see that he would soon be overrun. He rose to his knees, then his feet and called out to Sigmar for his god’s power. His hammer rose into the air, and throwing his last bit of energy into a run towards Velykxak’s struggle. The Priest charged forth, and his hammer collided with one of the Chaos warrior’s helmets, knocking it over. He reached downward towards his book of prayers, and called out into the night. His eye and hammer started to glow with a brightness of fire. He charged forth, and threw his hammer at the champion of the pack, the priests body following after. The hammer struck the champion, but from behind it came the charge of the Priest. The Priest tackled the champion and he felt Chaos metal cleave through his stomach. He would die with honor. He fell over to the side of the champion, and the scum rose to its feet. The champion raised his axe and it swooped downward, but never met flesh. Velykxak was there, sword in hand, again, saving him from the sting of an axe. But even Velykxak could not save him from death now. The dark elf finished the champion and turned to the Priest. “Please, I cannot live, but you and your men can, leave me to die with honor. Velykxak kneeled over him and then looked to the battle. He saw his friends, his company, trying to hold off the Chaos charge. He looked back down to the Priest.
“I will tell of you, o great Priest, and you will live, in the hearts of us all forever.” Velykxak turned and signaled the retreat.
He turned to the Priest, and heard him mutter, “It is; over.” The light flew from the Priest’s eyes, and his soul drifted to his god, to honor.