Firestorm - The Hrukvorn Lodge VI - The Red Mist

Folkvar-Grimnir sat and watched in silence from atop his mount as the combined host of daemons and mortal servants of the dark gods approached.

'The same heathen lot as last time from the look of them,' said Skjor, battlesmith of the Hrukvorn.

'Aye,' replied the Runefather. 'Only this time they're on our land.'

Folkvar kicked his heels to Brim's flanks and the beast trudged forward. Coming to a halt at the fore of the berzerker duardin, the magmadroth turned so that Folkvar faced his fyrd.

'SONS OF GRIMNIR,' boomed Folkvar, his grandxe held high and his left hand open as he addressed his men.

'WHEN KHORNE'S BASTARDS RAN RAMPANT ACROSS THESE LANDS AND THE FREE PEOPLE RAN TO AZYRHEIM TO HIND BEHIND THEIR GOD KING – WHO ENDURED?'

'THE FYRESLAYERS!' came the cry from a hundred throats.

'IN WHOSE LANDS DID THE BLOODBOUND FEAR TO TREAD?'

'THE FYRESLAYERS!'

'WHO TAUGHT THE SERVANTS OF DARKNESS WHAT IT IS TO BLEED?'

'THE FYRESLAYERS!'

'WHO STANDS BEFORE ME NOW?'

'THE FYRESLAYERS!'

Folkvar whirled his magmadroth about so that he faced the enemy once again. His heart thundered in his chest and he felt the fire stir within the ur-gold hammered into his skin.

'STRIKE THE RUNES!' he roared.

Lord-Ordinator Titus Ironbrow watched from the foot of a dilapidated tower as the fyrd of the Hrukvorn Lodge rushed forward to meet the enemy. He heard the roaring of the lodge's fearsome magmadroths and saw the flash of fires red and blue.

'It begins,' he said grimly to himself.

He rushed up the stairs of the tower to the platform where his duardin artillery crews were waiting.

'We have engaged the enemy,' said Ironbrow as he strode into the room and over to the window for a better look at the western flank.

'Straight out o' Ashenhold and straight into this bollocks,' grumbled one of the older duardin as he waved the cannon into position.

'Have faith, my friend,' replied Ironbrow as he examined the readings on his compass. 'History turns on small hinges – all things need at times is a little push. And a little faith.'

The old duardin artilleryman cocked an eyebrow at the arcane engineer.

'You just tell us where to point the guns and we'll do our bit.'

'Quite so, my friend, quite so.'

As had been expected, the warrior woman and the daemon who called himself Karnack marched at the head of the Chaotic host. The woman and her warriors held the western flank, whilst the daemons attacked from the east. Folkvar urged his Vulkites forward into the marauders and the gibbering horrors, and the buried the enemy beneath an avalanche of axes and warpicks, whilst Alsvir and Ulavesht rushed in to devastate what remained.

'With me, Torchbearers!' cried the Runefather to his hearthguard, and together they rushed the cultist woman standing atop her daemonic steed.

Brim rushed forward at breakneck speed. A vision of the void in which he spoke with the stranger flashed in his mind. He looked at the faint, black mark on his hand and focused his mind until it was as empty as that void. Brim leaped high into the air over the Torchbearers and seemed for several moments to glide. Folkvar tightened his grip about his grandaxe as they approached the woman, his warriors whirling the deadly braziers of their poleaxes about their heads as they rushed forward. The Runefather raised his black axe high above his head as he made to strike, then quickly whirled his mount around to attack from the side in a deadly feint.

He swept the massive axe out to bisect the woman, and quick as a flash she swept over the heads of the fyreslayers and straight towards a dormant realmgate far to the rear of the battle.

'She flees!' howled one of the hearthguard in rage.

Folkvar stared after her dumbstruck for a moment.

'They're deactivating the wards,' growled the Runefather as the realisation suddenly dawned on him. 'Hold the watchtower – do not let them breach our lines!'

Ironbrow grinned as he peered through his spyglass at the woman approaching the ward site. He continued to watch as she waved her hands in the air, using some cantrip or other to unbind the runic ward sealing away the errant magics that could pollute the site.

'Gentlemen, it appears a fox has wandered into our little chicken coop,' said Ironbrow as he folded away his spyglass. 'Watch for the sign of the comet, my friends.'

The Lord-Ordinator pulled the two shimmering hammers from their loops about his belt and strode purposefully down the stairs of the ruined tower and out into the open. He marched forward so that he could see the woman and lifted his twinned weapons into a fighting stance.

'Heretic!' he roared.

The ritual complete, the woman turned to face the man.

'Sigmar sees you,' he said.

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and the small orrery about his head glowed with pale blue light. His hammers crackled with electricity and his eyes glowed with the same eldritch, blue light as his orrery.

The woman gaped as blazing blue comet hurtled from the heavens and collided with her in a flash.

Once the light vanished, the woman struggled to her feet, leaning on her staff. Smoke rose from her clothes. She heard a sound like thunder, saw the familiar flash of the war machines of the free people and accepted her fate.

Folkvar rushed back to the tower where his hearthguard were being overwhelmed by the remainder of the woman's warriors. With a bestial roar, Brim belched searing hot magma over the dark warriors and several of them howled in agony as they were roasted alive. Folkvar swung his axe about and caught one of the warriors with the blade and slammed him into the wall of the tower with a sickening, wet crunch. More of the haevily armoured warriors poured down the hill to assist in the fray. Though the hearthguard were now all wounded or worse, Folkvar fought the slaves of the dark gods alone, the grip on his axe tightening as the heat emanating from Brim's body intesified with the beast's rage.

'Karnack's banished!' screamed an emaciated cultist from atop the hill the warriors had charged down, stumbling over her robes as she began to run. 'Flee! Flee!'

The warriors began cautiously backing away from the Runefather and his mount, only breaking into a full run once they felt there was a slight chance they would not be followed.

Folkvar dropped a torch onto the piled corpses of daemons, beastmen and human and stepped back to watch as the flames consumed them.

'You're sure this'll work, manling?' asked the Runefather as he leaned on his axe and stared into the flames.

'It'll work – provided others do the same,' replied Ironbrow. 'Otherwise the cycle of violence feeds both our enemies. The Necromancer has more corpses for his army, and the Blood God grows stronger as the wanton violence continues.'

'Wonderful,' said Folkvar flatly. 'You're just brimming with good news, aren't you?'

'I see much to be joyous about, my friend,' said Titus with a grin. 'The Brightblade is not razing your city, the daemons don't get the cavern, and nobody has the weapon!'

Folkvar rolled his eyes.

'You Stormcast are all mental,' he said.