Firestorm - The Dawnclad I - For Whose Purposes
“Mistress Straka, it appears our allies have been delayed. We will be facing these foes alone.”
If Ania’s expression was affected by this news, her beak-shaped helmet betrayed nothing to her second-in-command. She was stood on an outcrop, surveying the battlefield, her disc daemon hovering next to her bearing her shield and staff. After a moment, she spoke.
“Then we will have to settle for a fair fight. A shame, but unsurprising, Magister. We cannot trust any of our allies, especially other servants of the Raven God. Too many moving parts, too many unknown quantities.”
Her subordinate stood silently for a moment, as if picking her words carefully.
If Ania’s expression was affected by this news, her beak-shaped helmet betrayed nothing to her second-in-command. She was stood on an outcrop, surveying the battlefield, her disc daemon hovering next to her bearing her shield and staff. After a moment, she spoke.
“Then we will have to settle for a fair fight. A shame, but unsurprising, Magister. We cannot trust any of our allies, especially other servants of the Raven God. Too many moving parts, too many unknown quantities.”
Her subordinate stood silently for a moment, as if picking her words carefully.
“Mistress Straka... Ania. Is this wise? Even now, Aqshy is Khorne’s territory. This is a land of violence and uncertainty. I am not sure what lies in these lands that could be worth risking our strength. In service to Zaronax, no less.”
Ania did not immediately reply, so the Magister continued. “You know what I know. You know he is a monster, that he binds his legions in chains of torture and misery. Even amongst Archaon’s hordes, this man is an embodiment of cruelty. And now we are beholden to him.”
“We had no choice, Adhaid. We are not powerful enough to deny the will of the Everchosen. Yet.”
Adhaid sighed. “I know this, Ania. And I trust you. But remember, these warriors pledged their lives to you for the promise of freedom. They have faith in your deliverance. But from where I stand, I cannot be sure be sure if we are ultimately serving our own purposes, or those of the Raven God. Your plan never meant to bring us into service of the Everchosen.”
“Our plans have to be... Malleable. Our fates are interwoven with the threads of Tzeentch’s whims. If we are to tear them loose, we have to make certain allowances. It is not a simple task.” Ania reached out in front of her, and her disc arose level to her chest. She reached out and plucked her staff and shield from it, before allowing the disc to fall again.
“I know this. I have faith.” Adhaid looked back at the warriors gathered at the bottom of the outcrop. “They have faith. In you. You must prove your shoulders adequate to carry the weight.”
Ania’s disc floated above her warband, and their heads turned towards her at once, their attention rapt. She could feel their expectation and their trust pressing down on her, suffocating her. She feared failing them more than she feared the enemy army bearing down on them. More than she feared failing Zaronax. Pain and suffering were insignificant compared to responsibility.
“My sisters, my warriors. A great beast awaits just ahead, a being of pure Chaos, and I would have it tamed. The risen dead seek to bar our path. The path to freedom takes us past this wall of corpses. I trust you all to tear it down. The future belongs only to the living.”
Ania did not immediately reply, so the Magister continued. “You know what I know. You know he is a monster, that he binds his legions in chains of torture and misery. Even amongst Archaon’s hordes, this man is an embodiment of cruelty. And now we are beholden to him.”
“We had no choice, Adhaid. We are not powerful enough to deny the will of the Everchosen. Yet.”
Adhaid sighed. “I know this, Ania. And I trust you. But remember, these warriors pledged their lives to you for the promise of freedom. They have faith in your deliverance. But from where I stand, I cannot be sure be sure if we are ultimately serving our own purposes, or those of the Raven God. Your plan never meant to bring us into service of the Everchosen.”
“Our plans have to be... Malleable. Our fates are interwoven with the threads of Tzeentch’s whims. If we are to tear them loose, we have to make certain allowances. It is not a simple task.” Ania reached out in front of her, and her disc arose level to her chest. She reached out and plucked her staff and shield from it, before allowing the disc to fall again.
“I know this. I have faith.” Adhaid looked back at the warriors gathered at the bottom of the outcrop. “They have faith. In you. You must prove your shoulders adequate to carry the weight.”
Ania’s disc floated above her warband, and their heads turned towards her at once, their attention rapt. She could feel their expectation and their trust pressing down on her, suffocating her. She feared failing them more than she feared the enemy army bearing down on them. More than she feared failing Zaronax. Pain and suffering were insignificant compared to responsibility.
“My sisters, my warriors. A great beast awaits just ahead, a being of pure Chaos, and I would have it tamed. The risen dead seek to bar our path. The path to freedom takes us past this wall of corpses. I trust you all to tear it down. The future belongs only to the living.”
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