Fluff!
Chapter 1
The horses hooves thudded into the ground, picking up pace like a Steam Tank. Volker readied his lance; tucking it tightly between his arm and side, his grip tightening around the handle. Faster and faster his mount sped, until crunch. His opponent lay on the floor, dismounted. The armour in the centre of his chest was pierced clean through, into the chest itself. Spurting crimson blood into the air. The medical officer kneeled by the body.
"2 inches left of the heart. A major blood supplies been hit, but I'd imagine I could heal this Lord Hochfett." He announced upon inspection.
"See that it's done." Volker replied, dismounting his steed. "We wouldn't want Father's prized knight to die so close to the battle. We may need him after all."
Volker waved to a nearby servant to see his steed to the stables, as Dietrich, Volker's advisor approached from the stands. He removed his helmet in preparation to converse, ruffling his short cut hair with his hand.
"An impressive show, sir. However I wish you'd rid yourself of the foolish notion of joining this battle. Your Father doesn't approve -"
"My father’s opinion matters not, Dietrich." Volker cut into his sentence. "You've done your job. You've advised, as has he, and I've listened. I've chosen my own path. If I still cannot convince him by the eve of the battle, I advise you to tell my Father that you've seen me somewhere in the castle, should he question my whereabouts. We wouldn't want him to worry now."
"But sir, I can't lie to your Father. He'd execute me if he ever found out. Or worse, should anything happen to you."
"Nothing will happen to me, my friend. You've no need to worry, and I need you to prevent my Father from doing the same."
Dietrich looked to the floor and let out a sigh. "I suppose I have little choice in this do I, sir..."
"No, I'm afraid you don't, in this circumstance. Now come Dietrich, we should head back for dinner." Volker was growing weary of his advisors unnecessary worry.
Volker waved to another servant, signalling him to come and take his armour and weapon. With that he turned and walked away from Dietrich, back towards the castle, leaving his opponent still lying on the floor with the medic. Pouring a dark crimson onto the sanded floor as the sun did the same to the skyline.
Volker sat down next to his Fathers' chair at the head of a long wooden table fully laid with a multiple of whole crisp brown hog-roasts, a plethora of golden meads and ruby wines, jewel adorned chalices, intricately patterned platters and plates, and meticulously shined silverware. One might say it was a hungry thief's dream.
His Fathers' chair was higher than all the others by about a foot, leading him to look down on both his son, on his right, and his advisor on his left. This represented his view of the people at the table perfectly however - Higher than everyone, above the ground, above even his own flesh and blood.
The table slowly filled. The province's Noblemen and women took their seats, along with all of the lord's appointed castellans. His entire inner circle was arranged, around 15 heads in all. People began talking amongst themselves, except for Volker, who sat slumped in his chair, irritated that he had to sit through another one of his fathers' 'I'm so great' dinners. The fact that he was itching to escape to practice for the battle didn't help either.
A loud fanfare rang out from the sides of the room, causing the background rabble to cease, and everyone rose to greet the Lord Kaspar Hochfett as he entered into the room, heading swiftly to his seat. His father wasn’t looking well these days. He was pale, his long hair had greyed, and deep lines were etched into his face after a lifetime of stress and worry. Standing at the head of the table on a small pedestal, the same one which raised his chair, he lifted his glass to the air.
"My friends," he said, "I apologise for being late, but I'm afraid I was held up. There was a… incident with some foolish gravedigger. However the situation is now under control.” He cleared his throat “The aid from the east has arrived, to help prepare our defences against the Orc Tribe, whom my spies inform me are over the mountains, and are but a five day march from us. And so, with this being our last gathering before the Orcs reach us, I wanted to make a toast to us. To our province. To our victory. We shall not fall to some mindless
horde. If we stand together, we can repel any attack, and invaders. We have Sigmar on our side, and with him, we shall not fail. Now rejoice friends, as tomorrow morning, preparations for war must be underway in all of your towns. Eat, drink, and be merry. There's plenty for everyone!"
Volker could tell something was bothering his father. He was never this joyous before battle. He was oftentimes incredibly nervous. His father was hiding something that much was clear to him. Volker never liked these dinners. Nothing but boring old men sat around the table, arguing over whose land is the best, before noisily gulping down a mouthful of wine and meat, often simultaneously, whilst the women look on disgusted. Well, the women and Volker.
Before long the feast was over. Though to Volker it felt like days. He kept to himself as much as he could, parrying off the occasional questions from those nearby as the feigned an interest in his life, when let’s face it; all they really care about is themselves and their wealth. Volker and his Gather just sat there, sharing only the occasional uneasy glance together. His father was often disgusted by the vulgar table manners of most of his guests also. After one more clearly urging glance from his son, Lord Hochfett rose, to make a final toast.
"Again, my friends, I'd like to thank you all for coming tonight. I have arranged for quarters tonight in the castle, for those of you who wish to stay. For those who wish to return to their homes, I should remind you that there's a conference tomorrow morn to strategise for the upcoming battles. Now if you'll excuse me, I grow wear y and must depart... The servants shall show you all to your quarters shortly."
And with that, he stepped down from his pedestal, and left through the doors behind him. The servants came to clear the table, as Volker sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for the first opportunity to vanish. When the talking to pick up again at the table, he took the opportunity to pursue his Father.
He listened in on the outside of his Father’s chamber door to check for the all clear, not that much could be heard through 3 inch thick wooden doors, before barging in.
“Father please –“
“Stop!” He interrupted Volker.
He rose up from the edge of the bed on which he sat, and turned to face Volker.
“I’ve heard enough of this nonsense already. You’re not going to battle Volker! Do you not realise what these are!? You are a good fighter my son, but you’ve trained against knights. Against humans. And these are far, far from human. They have the strength of at least 2 men, and the brains of a beast. Do you realise what that means!? There’s no retreat and there’s no restraint. The will hit you with all they’ve got, and they’ll hit you hard, and you will not survive it!”
Volker looked doubtful at his father’s exaggeration.
“I doubt many of the men will…” His father began to trail off.
“But Father, I can make a difference. I know I can! I may not have the experience, but do any of these men!?”
“No. No they don’t... And that’s my worry Volker. This battle’s going to be a struggle…” He let out a sigh. “And I’ll risk their lives, but not yours. Not my own son’s.”
Volker began to grow impatient.
“I’m an adult. And you can’t stop me, this is my decision!”
“Volker…” His father’s visage dropped. A look of sadness took over his deepened features.
“NO! No more! I’m finished. I’m going, whether you like it or not!”
He turned from his father, and pushed the door open hard, striking Dietrich, who must have been waiting outside the room for the storm that he and his father brewed to subside. Dietrich knocked and entered the room, looking unsure as to whether he should initiate conversation.
“Milord…” He said sheepishly, “Is…” He cleared his throat “Is there anything else you require? If not, I shall return to oversee the cleaning of the dinner and then retire for the evening.”
“Thank you Dietrich, but I require nothing more than a good night’s rest. Have all of the guests been shows to desired locations?”
“Yes Milord and their doors have been locked.”
“Excellent. That’s all then Dietrich. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Milord, I shall come and wake you at dawn to prepare for tomorrow’s planning.”
With that, he stepped out of the door, closing it behind him. Seconds later he heard the click as the key turned in the lock, securing his room. Content that his duties were finished, he headed to the kitchen, to finalise the tidying.
Kaspar removed the key from the lock, and walked over to the bed, placing it on the nearby table. He drew the thick crimson curtains closed, and retrieved his night gown from his wardrobe. Once he had changed he got into the bed and let out a loud sigh as he relaxed slowly into sleep.
Volker reached his room, and slumped onto his bed with his head in his hands. He sat there, breathing deeply, gradually getting faster. Suddenly he jumped up, let out a scream of anger and sent his foot flying into the bedpost, causing his scream of anger to change to one of pain.
A knock came from the door.
“Are you okay in there Milord?”
It was one of the castle guards. Volker knew him very well, he was an older guard, and he’d been there since Volker was a child. He was like another father to him, an advisor of a more personal nature than Dietrich. Sigmar knows he needed one with how busy his father was.
“I’m fine Tarik.” He said hoarsely from the screaming.
“Are you certain?” a concerned reflex ended the question he asked through the still closed door.
“Yes… It’s just Father. Nothing to worry about Tarik.”
“Your father means well, you know that right Volker?” He turned the handle “May I come in?”
“If you must…”
He entered the room, and sat down with Volker.
“He’s only looking out for your best interests. It’s hard to accept your child has grown up… It’s even harder to send them off to a battle. Worst of all, because of his wealth, the thought of you in battle had never occurred to him until you brought it up. He’s had no time to adjust to it…”
“I…” Volker didn’t know what to say. “I suppose you’re right… But still, it’s my choice.”
“Yes, it is. But you have to consider your family Volker. Imagine how he’d be if you died… Is it really worth it?”
“…No…” Volker struggled to admit he was wrong. “But… I want to. I’ve always wanted to fight.”
“Some other time.” Tarik said reassuringly. “But you know how dangerous the Orcs are… He will let you fight, eventually. Just not against Orcs. The odds are too stacked in their favour.”
“So what should I do then?” He sighed out.
“Apologise. Tell him that you’ve reconsidered, that you respect his decision. I promise you that he’ll let you battle another time if you apologise to him now.”
“But I’m old enough to make my own decision Tarik. I shouldn’t have to listen to my father anymore.”
“Volker… I listened to my parents’ right up until the day they died. No matter how old I got, they still had a 20 year advantage on me. 20 more years of experience and wisdom.”
“I… You’re right.” He looked to the floor. “I’ll go and apologise before he goes to sleep. Thank you Tarik”
“Any time Volker, you know I’m always here for you… Best of luck, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight”
“Goodnight my friend.”
Tarik left the room followed closely behind by Volker, heading opposite ways once on the other side of the threshold.
A cold chill suddenly took over Kaspar. He rose up on his elbows to look around… The curtains were billowing. He dragged his legs out of the bed, and shuffled over to the window, taking a quick glance and the courtyard outside before pulling it shut and ensuring it was locked. He turned back to his bed.
There was someone sat on it.
“Shhh. We don’t want to wake anyone now do we? Besides, I’ve knocked out all of the guards. It’d be useless…”
It was a man. He was in shadow except for the line of light formed by the curtains, revealing a pale gaunt face with deep set red eyes, framed with long black hair. He lifted a small blade into the beam of light, ensuring Kaspar saw it, before smirking, and lowering it back to his lap.
“Who are you?” Fear had infected the Lords voice.
“You don’t want to know.” The man replied calmly. “I’m not here for you anyway… I’m here for your son. You’re just the lucky pawn, trapped in the middle.”
Kaspar was edging slowly towards the door.
“Why… Why do you want my son?”
The man rose.
“Don’t try to distract me Kaspar. You’re not leaving this room alive.”
The man appeared in front of Kaspar's face in the blink of an eye. He placed a hand on Kaspar’s shoulder.
“You’re not going anywhere…” Kaspar went limp and hit the floor with a thud. Still alive and still conscious. “Now we wait…”
He took a seat calmly on the bed again.
Volker walked down the candlelit hallways, twisting and turning from one side of the castle to the other, heading to his father’s room. He reached the door and tried the handle. Locked. He knocked on the door.
“Father?” He said quietly through the door.
Kaspar attempted to warn Volker, but nothing came out.
He knocked again. “Father?” He said louder.
The man on the bed rose, and held his hand above Kaspar, causing him to rise to his feet. He plunged the knife through the Lords stomach, as Kaspar let out a blood-curdling scream of agony.
“Father!?” Volker backed away from the door, and barged into it with his shoulder.
Again and again, the man stabbed, as again and again Volker barged at the door. The lock ripped through the frame as Volker collapsed into the room. He looked around… No one… Then his eyes fell to the floor. There lay his father, in a pool of blood, barely breathing.
Volker scrambled over to his father, and held his head into his hands.
“No… no…” Tears streamed down both his and his father’s face. “You can’t die… You can’t… You can’t…” Volker began to rock as he sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m sorry. I should have never argued with you… I… I love you…”
Kaspar wearily raised a hand up to his son’s face, and placed it on his cheek, managing a weak smile.
“I… love…” He let out his last breath.
Volker dropped his forehead onto his fathers, weeping, shaking. He kissed his father’s forehead.
“How touching…”
Volker’s sight shot up. Someone stood in the shadows. The man stepped out of the shadows, licking the blood off the knife. Volker shot to his feet and headed to the door, only for it to slam shut before he made it.
“Don’t bother.” The man said. “Now, stay quiet and listen to me.”
He waved his hand, and Volker was paralysed on the spot.
“I’ve been watching you Volker, I’ve seen you train. You’re very skilled. But you will die at the hands of these Orcs. Not through any lack of skill on your part. One on one, even ten on one, you would win. But when they outnumber you hundreds to one… well…” The man cleared his throat. “So I have a proposition for you.”
He walked up face to face with Volker. He could smell the bitterness on the man’s breath. A stench of death.
“Now, I can bring your father back.” He said, circling Volker. “But first, you have to do something for me…”
When he was behind Volker he plunged two vicious fangs into his neck.
Volker didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He couldn’t. He stood there, helpless, as the unholy disease coursed through his body.
“You have 2 days, Volker.” He held up a small vial, filled with a thick red liquid. Blood. “You need to feed, or you will die. But your first feed has to be on the person who infected you… So there’s no cheating now, is there…” The man released the paralysis on Volker, dropping him to his knees as he grabbed at the punctures on his neck.
“I want you to go to the nearby village. The ‘gravedigger’ that Kaspar was talking about… Find him. He’s already got my message, and he’ll be expecting you. Go there, find him, and destroy the town. Slaughter everyone. Men, women, children. Everyone.”
He turned his back to Volker, who still knelt on the floor.
“Oh, and one more thing. Until your first feed, you’re a thrall. You’re not one of us yet. You’re a servant… So unfortunately, you have no choice whatsoever in the matter. You’re under my control Volker. Either do this willingly, or become my puppet. However I can’t promise to let you live past the two days if you deny me… And your father will most certainly stay dead.”
The man picked up Volker, and turned to face the window.
“I think you’ll find some advantages to the gift I’ve given you however…”
The man hurled Volker through the window, shattering it as he went, before the man vanished back into the shadows he came from.
Volker looked down. The ground was approaching rapidly.
Chapter 2
Krugar hammered his shovel into the frosted earth with his foot. He bent low and levered up, pulling up the crumbling dirt beneath him. Again and again he rhythmically repeated. Bang. A smirk took over Krugar’s grim face. He dragged the scraps of hair that still clung to his withered skull out of his face, and knelt down by the hole.
His hands disappeared into the gap he’d created in the earth. The lid lifted open with an eerie creak, and he pulled back slightly from the smell. He looked down at the body – maggots ate at the small patches of putrid flesh that remained, contrasting against the almost perfectly clean bone. There were no organs anymore. This body had been here a while.
“Perfect…” He muttered to himself with another smirk.
He reached down to the book at his side and opened it, laying it on the ground in front of him. He began to read from the book, mumbling incoherently. Wind began to blow around him, lifting his hair and cloak, making him look as though he sat on the bottom of a lake. Suddenly, a bright green bolt, made brighter by the absence of the moon, hidden behind the clouds, shot from the book, striking the corpse with a loud crack.
“Who goes there!?” Shouted an unfamiliar voice from beyond the graveyard.
A guard. Krugar grabbed his book, and swiftly hurried away from the scene. Dodging in and out of gravestones before clambering through the broken bars in the iron fence. Through darkened back alleys he made his way back to his ‘home’. Squatting in a condemned house. It wasn’t luxury, but it allowed him to practice mostly in peace.
A group of guards searched the graveyard. One of the guards broke off from the group, mesmerized by the green glow beyond the small group of trees.
“This way… Look…” He spoke in a soft monotone to the other guards.
They all turned to look in his direction, confused about what they were seeing. They cautiously edged forwards. By the time the rest of the group had reached the small circle of trees, the other guard was past them. He stepped over the skeleton that lay on the floor, still heading for the glow emanating from the hole.
Suddenly someone unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into his neck. The guard spun to look for his attacker. No one… Nothing… He went black.
The remainder of the group had made it around the trees and stopped dead. There lying on the ground was their comrade. And next to him, a corpse, holding a bloodied dagger. Two of the group backed away slowly, heading for reinforcements, as the one remaining stood frozen in terror.
Without warning, the corpse sprang up and impaled another guard before any of them had time to react. It set its eyes on the two remaining guards. Its piercing, green, ethereal eyes. The two guards aimed their muskets at the corpse and fired. There was a crack as bone fractured and splintered off. But the corpse continued to approach them. As it got closer they could smell the decomposing stench of rot and death, burning at their nostrils like salt to a wound.
No time to reload.
They threw their rifles at the skeleton, one striking below its ribs into its spine, and another striking the neck, snapping the spine, and severing the corpse into three. Green smoke rose from the body, and it remained there. As lifeless as it should be.
The guards looked at each other, stunned and terrified.
“We… we should get help… The Lord should know about this…” One said to the other, struggling to get words out.
Without another look, they turned and ran back to the guard house, and burst into the Captain’s office.
“Captain Zell… We…” They were both gasping for breath
“Calm down, take a seat and tell me. Get your breath back.” Zell calmly replied, gesturing towards the chairs.
“We have something awful to report…” One of the men spurted out. “We heard a noise, in the graveyard… We went in and saw this strange glow… And there was a… a…”
“A skeleton, sir.” The other one interrupted.
“Right. There was a skeleton, in a graveyard. I’d best inform the papers!” He looked down to his desk, and back up to the men. “Have you two been drinking?”
“No, sir. This was no ordinary skeleton.” The first guard continued. “It was alive, it killed two of us. We broke it apart with our rifles.”
The look of humour on the Captain’s face suddenly turned to fear.
“Necromancy…” He muttered. He readjusted himself, and looked squarely at them, “Are you sure it was a skeleton and not just some malnourished homeless?”
“Sir, its eyes were glowing. Whatever this was, it wasn’t natural. It was magical. There’s no doubt about that…”
“We should inform Lord Hochfett.” He dipped his quill and began to write on the paper in front of him. “Did you see anyone else? Any signs of a Necromancer?”
“No sir, just the Skeleton and the strange green glow from the grave.”
“Right.” He continued to write down the incident, before folding the paper and sealing it with a wax stamp. “Go and give this to the messenger. It should reach Lord Hochfett by late tomorrow afternoon. With any luck it'll be just before the feast he's planning with the other Nobles. And you’re relieved for the remainder of the week. You’ll need to rest. In the morning, we’ll send a team out to investigate the graveyard. Whilst you are off duty, don’t wander far. We may still have some question for you…”
“Thank you, sir.” They both said, in unison. Still shaken from their experiences.
They left the room, handed over the message and headed to their beds in the barracks. Not that either of them would be able to sleep after what happened. They tossed and turned, waking up from nightmares when they eventually did drift off.
The first guard awoke, and propped himself up, looking to see if any other guards were in the barracks. None other than his comrade. Something caught the guard’s eye… The sheets were red. He got out of bed, and walked over to the other guard’s. His throat was cut.
He recoiled in horror, not knowing how to react. They’d not know long, they didn’t even know each other’s names. But an overwhelming sense of sadness and grief washed over him.
“I was sleeping…” He muttered. “While I slept… He died. Killed?”
He noticed a note at the base of the bed, “No…” The writing was scrawled, barely legible…
“I couldn’t do it. The eyes. I can’t stop seeing those unholy eyes…” He couldn’t read anymore. It was smudged and blurred.
He dropped back onto his bed.
‘Maybe he was right…’ He thought to himself. ‘Maybe this is the best option…’
He reached for the pistol, which lay on the table by the bed. Slowly, he brought it up to his head. He was shaking, crying. But the other guard was right. He couldn’t escape those eyes either. They haunted his dreams… Coupled with the smell, they were enough to drive a man to madness.
He felt the cold barrel of the gun touch against his temple, making him flinch slightly. He squeezed his eyes closed. He gritted his teeth. He pulled the trigger.
I normally use the white or yellow(?) one, never saw grey 
thanks man, I'll try some modelling the next time. 
1000 points almost done!
). The rest looks fine to me.
Me does love taht! 
