Gatehammer Fantasy Battles (Gate: Thus the JSDF Fought There/Warhammer Fantasy Battles)

[Cirex101 AKA IRUn]

Fort Griffon, the Gateworld, known to the locals as Alnus Hill

Erhardt Franz Holswig Schliestein, fourth son of the Emperor, Karl Franz, surveyed the carnage from atop his horse. Already the carrion birds were feasting on the dead, paying no head if the fallen were dressed in either the scarlet and white of his native Reikland, or the strange armor of the locals.

He thanked Sigmar and Morr that the majority of the slain were of the latter, and not the former.

After four weeks of bloodshed, the Invader Army had finally backed off, no longer willing to throw their men into the meat grinder that were the Imperial Iron Companies. Erhardt had been in the thick of the fighting for most of the siege, and his formerly pristine armor, was dented, and covered in blood, both his enemies, and his own.

Erhardt was tall for a young man, and athletic, though he had yet to fill out in certain places. He had inherited the strong jaw of his father's family, and the aquiline nose of his mother. A scar in the corner of his mouth, earned in a fight against a drunken Estalian Prince, made it seem as if he was constantly smirking. He was dressed in black armor, decorated with symbols of both Sigmar and Morr. Many raised an eyebrow at his choice of patron deities, but he paid them no mind. Though it was in Sigmar's name he fought, he, like every other man, was destined for Morr's Garden.

As he continued to survey the field, his mind went back to the days before the Gate appeared, before an unknown foe had invaded the lands of his ancestors, burning and pillaging on a direct course to Ubersreik, before the Emperor Karl Franz and a coalition army of Empire Provinces had broken the invading army, scattered them to the four winds, and had themselves marched through the Gate.

On the other side, they had discovered a whole new world, one similar to, yet different from the Old World of their birth. The Gate was the only way to and from the Old World, and it was in the best interests of the Empire to insure that the invaders could not regain it. Therefore, the Emperor had ordered the construction of defenses all across the hill, and had shipped in expensive dwarfen builders to oversee the work. After a month of building, impressive wood and stone fortifications were erected on the hill, surrounding the Gate, allowing for only one way in or out.

No sooner had the fortifications been completed than the invaders came again.

The Empire army had the high ground, fortifications, and the might of the Iron Companies.

The enemy had numbers though, and for every Empire man, the foe had ten more.

What followed was the greatest industrialized slaughter of human beings that Erhardt had ever seen. He was no stranger to war; when one was a Prince of Altdorf, you had to fight beastmen, greenskins, the occasional undead, and all other manner of mutant and monsters.

Still though, the foe Erhardt was fighting were not monsters, mutants, corpse, or follower of the dark gods; they were simply men, and it seemed wrong to Erhardt that they had to kill one another.
However, they threatened his home, and for the defense of his ancestral homeland, he would kill as many of the invaders as necessary.

And he did. Following the orders of his superiors, he commanded a company of halberdiers, and with them, he fought on the walls, on the ground, the gatehouses, and, when the situation called for it, he mounted his horse, and charged into the enemy's ranks.

Finally, after four weeks of battle, the enemy left, having been bloodied to the point of near defeat.

It was thanks only to the Dawi's skill as builders, the Emperor's strategic brilliance, and the Empire's control of the Gate, allowing them to send fresh men and a stream of supplies that victory was achieved.

Now, Erhardt was put in charge of overseeing the recovery the Empire's dead from the field. He had spent the past weeks barely sleeping, constantly fighting, and it took all of his willpower to keep his body moving.

"My Prince!"

Erhardt turned his head to the left, and saw a knight of the Reiksguard ride up to him.

"Yes, what is it?" Erhardt asked, curtly.

"The Emperor demands your presence in the Keep, at once."

"Well, I would be a poor son to keep my father and emperor waiting." Erhardt said to the knight, before turning his gaze to his company, "Captain Klaus!"

"Yes My Lord?" a grizzled soldier, with a beard and an eyepatch over his left eye answered from a few yards away.

"The Emperor desires my presence in the Keep. You will take over our job in my stead until my return."

"Understood My Lord." Klaus nodded.

"Well then," Erhardt said, turning his horse around and making for the direction of the fort, "Let us see what my father wants."

---

The Keep of Fort Griffon was a wooden structure four stories high. The dawi carpenters made it highly defensible, crafted from Reikwald oak, and as solid as any stone structure built by human hands.

Outside the great doors of the Keep, Erhardt always took the time to admire the work put in by the mountain folk; their victory was due in no small part to the the sturdy construction of their fortifications. WIthout them, they would have been overrun weeks ago, guns or no guns.

"Erhardt, lad! There you are!" Erhardt turned his head and his eyes went wide as he saw the speaker walk up to him.

"Duke Marius!" he exclaimed, bowing his head, and trying to keep his surprise in check, "To what do I owe the honor?"

Marius Leitdorf, Grand Duke of Averland, Ruler of Averheim, and the most unhinged Elector Count since Magnus reunited the Empire.

He was also a close friend of the Emperor Karl Franz, despite the madness, and one of the finest duelists in the Empire.

The Grand Duke was dressed in a costume colored black and gold, with purple leggings and yellow shoes, and on top his head was a cap with a huge feather. One could describe his dress as comical, almost jesterlike, were it not for the Runefang, 'Mother's Ruin,' and the long dueling dagger strapped to his sides.

Marius was one of several Electors to take the fight to the invaders, and his mad charges and fearless offensives had driven terror into the hearts of the enemy who dared to take Sigmar's land for their own. He was also one of the first to suggest pursuing the enemy through the Gate, and during the four week long siege, had led several midnight raids into the enemy's camps, torching tents, murdering officers in their sleep, and making off with loot, horses, and the occasional severed head.

"Oh, don't be so formal lad; after all, I've seen your bottom when you were a little baby." Marius said, loudly, much to the young Prince's frustration, and to the amusement of several passing soldiers.

"I merely thought we could walk to your father's war council together." Marius explained, opening the doors, "And perhaps talk of some news that may have come to me."

"What sort of news?" the younger man asked hesitantly. You would never know what to expect from Leitdorf. There was always the chance that it could be important, but there was always the possibility that the Mad Duke was leading you on, setting you up to be a punchline in his joke.

"Well, now that the enemy has been defeated, driven from our lands, and this damn gate has been secured, many of the Electors who participated in this campaign wish to go home, and to take their armies with them. The mutants in the forests and the greeskins in the mountains won't wait for us to settle our affairs here after all."

"True enough I suppose Duke Marius," Erhardt replied as the two men walked through the halls, and pass the various soldiers, servants, and other fort staff, "But this gate still needs to be defended. We were outnumbered two to one in that last battle; should the other Electors pull their support now, the gate will be left severely undermanned."

"Too true, too true." Marius agreed, but did not seem to share the same sense of worry that Erhardt did, "That's why your father is calling this council; to decide what is to be done."

Several minutes later, they arrived at the grand chamber that Karl Franz had taken for his war council, and two knights of the Reiksguard opened the doors for them, and allowing them inside.

Inside the room was a massive table, carved from Drakwald oak. Seated at it were all the nobles and officers of the campaign, busy talking amongst themselves.

"Helborg!" Marius shouted upon catching sight of Kurt Helborg, the famed Reiksmarshal, Grand Master of the Reiksguard Knights, and the man he had the honor of squiring for several years ago.

"So glad to see that you survived the battle!" Marius said, "And I am even gladder to see that the hairy caterpillar upon your lip has not grown wings and flown off your face yet! I daresay that none of us would have been able to recognize you otherwise!"

"Grand Duke." was the only acknowledgement Marius got from Helborg, but the tightening of the Reiksmarshal's jaw was all the indication that one needed to know that Helborg was annoyed.

Helborg was not the only great hero of the Empire to be present; Boris Todbringer, the Graf of Middenheim, was seated at the table, his one good eye scanning the room.

Todbringer had once been the main rival of Erhardt's father for the position of Emperor, but years of fighting alongside one another had turned Todbringer from a rival into a loyal supporter. When the invaders had come through the Gate, Todbringer and his Ulrican wolves had come down from the north like an icy wind, and had torn the foe to pieces with their savage might.

Next to Todbringer was the Ar-Ulric, Emil Valegir, who had joined Tobringer on this campaign, and had personally slain several of the giant ogre like monsters that the invaders had brought with them. To Erhardt, the Ar-Ulric was an enigmatic, almost ethereal being, whom was always accompanied by a pair of giant wolves, and appeared to wear a crown of winter upon his brow.

Across from the Ulricans sat Balthasar Gelt, Gold Wizard, and Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The most powerful magister of the age, Gelt was known for his great ambitions, tempered only by his apparent patriotism for the Empire, and his allegiance to the Emperor. As a master over the Lore of Metal, Gelt had used the Winds of Magic to rain down molten gold upon the foe outside of Ubersreik, and had turned entire columns of the enemy into statues. What magic users the invader possessed paled in comparison to the overwhelming might of the Supreme Patriarch.

Next to Gelt was the Grand Theogonist, Volkmar the Grim, who was currently living up to his name by shooting glares at Marius. When news of the invaders had first reached Altdorf, Volkmar was among the first to respond, gathering the faithful together and riding out to meet the enemy. Atop his War Altar, Volkmar had brought down holy fire upon the foe, and put the fear of Sigmar into their hearts.

At the head of the table stood Ludwig Schwarzhelm, Champion of the Emperor, wielder of the Sword of Justice, and bearer of the Emperor's Standard. Ludwig had led the hunting parties into the Reikwald, where the invaders were fighting with the local beastmen warherds, and after waiting for both sides to bleed one another, had struck and defeated both. During the siege, Schwarzhelm held together the west wall, where the heaviest fighting took place, and had singlehandidly slain one of the dragon riders employed by the invaders.

Finally, sitting at the head of the table, was the Emperor Himself, Karl Franz Holswig Schliestein, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Count of the West March, Emperor himself and Blood of Emperors, and Defier of the Dark. He wore the gromril armor of Emperors, forged, in part, from the armor of Magnus the Pious. Laying on the table in front of him was Ghal Maraz, the legendary warhammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer.

"Good," Karl Franz said evenly, and calmly, but in a tone that commanded respect, "Now that Marius and my son are here, we can begin.

"Since this war started, we have defeated two armies; one in the Empire, and another one here, in this new world. Unfortunately, we cannot stay here much longer. The beastmen, the greenskins, the Northmen, and the other forces of Old Night will not wait for us to settle things here before they attack us. We must return to the Empire, and defend our lands from those who wish to destroy us. Still, until we can discover a way to shut down the Gate, and prevent the invaders from crossing through ever again, we would be fools to abandon this position entirely.

"That is the purpose of this meeting; to determine who will stay behind."

---

"Then it is decided." Karl Franz announced, "As it lies within my Province, Reikland will shoulder the bulk responsibility of defending the Gate from the invaders. Ten thousand men Reiklanders will be posted here in Fort Griffon, under the command of a General of my choosing. In addition, three thousand men from another province will also be stationed here, with the Provincial army rotating regularly. All that is left is to decide which Province will be first."

"I volunteer." Graf Boris announced, "Let it not be said that the Sons of Ulric did not stand by while the Empire was threatened from within."

"Excellent. I thank you for your contribution Boris." Karl said, a ghost of a smile on his face, "Now then, that will be all. You are all dismissed."

If he were a weaker Emperor, the Electors would have never have stood for the tone Franz took with them, nor bore being 'dismissed' as if they were schoolchildren, such were their pride.

This was not a weak Emperor though; this was Karl Franz, the most accomplished Emperor since Magnus, and only a foolish Elector would openly defy him.

Erhardt stood up, and began to follow the other men out.

"Hold a moment Erhardt."

Erhardt stopped in his tracks. He turned around and faced his father.

"We must speak. Come with me."

Erhard said nothing, but lightly bowed his head, and followed his father to the rooms the Emperor had taken for his own personal chambers.

"I've heard that you distinguished yourself well during the battle." Karl said as he poured a glass of wine, "I'm pleased to know that I've successfully raised another warrior in the family."

"I merely did my duty Papa." Erhardt replied as he sank into a plush chair. Now that they were alone, they could drop the formality.

"I expect nothing less from one of my boys." Karl replied, passing the glass to Erhardt, who took it gingerly in his armored hands, "In the end, all we can hope for is that we did our duty; whether it's too Reikland, the Empire, or to our family. You've made remarkable progress since you received your first commission; and now I've selected you for an important task."

"What sort of task Papa?"

"I must find a general to command the garrison. It needs to be someone with both experience, loyal to the Empire, and one that I can trust."

Karl leveled his steely eyed gaze at Erhardt.

"I suppose in this case, two out of three will have to do."

"Wait, you're picking me?" Erhardt was so shocked he almost stuttered, "But I'm not even twenty. Surely someone with more experience would be more suited-"

"Tell me Erhardt, how many fourth sons inherit anything of worth?"

"I... what? I mean, little father. Fourth sons inherit little."

"Exactly. Luitpold is going to be Prince of Reikland and Altdorf and, if he plays his cards right, could become Emperor one day. Siegbald is going to come into a large castle along the West March, as well as several smaller ones, and Kurt will spend the rest of his days as the Lord of a handful of country estates. Which leaves you, Erhardt. The best a fourth son can hope for is money, which you will of course receive upon my death, but that's not enough for one of my sons. That's why I'm giving you this hill."

"The hill father? I thought I was to be general until Gelt and his Magisters can divine a way to close the Gate?"

"Gelt is not sure that such a feat is possible." Karl admitted as he looked out the window of his room, "He has confided in me that whomever it was that created this Gate, be they god, daemon, or mortal, they used incredibly powerful, and incredibly resilient magic. It may never be undone. In which case, this hill is now an Imperial march, which will make you a Margrave."

"I... am honored, Father." Erhardt said, "But do you think I am ready to rule?"

"Sigmar no." Karl answered bluntly, "When you were a child, we trained you how to be a soldier, not a ruler. That is why I will send far more experienced men to serve as your advisers. They will be intelligent individuals, and if you wish to succeed then you will heed their council in all things, even if they tell you things that you do not wish to hear... especially then."

"I understand Father."

"Good. In addition to these advisers, I will also be posting experienced generals to serve under you, as well as Priests and Mages for support. They will support you where you are weak, and from them, you will grow stronger in areas you are lacking. It is not an ideal situation, but it will suffice. Let it never be said that a member of our House could not learn."

"From this day to your last day, you will be the Margrave of the Alnus March, and when you die, your children will inherit your title, and their children after them."

"I accept this responsibility father."

"Good. As of now, you will be the Empire's first line of defense against the invaders. You are also charged with exploring the lands surrounding Alnus Hill, and see if you can not subvert them to our purposes."

"That's the second time you've said 'Alnus'. Why did you choose that name for this place?"

"I did not; according to the prisoners, Alnus this the name that the locals gave this place."

"The locals- someone learned how to speak their language?"

"Partly. The men who interegated the prisoners obtained a rough understanding of enough words to carry on part of a conversation, while more progress has been made in using less orthodox methods.

"If I may inquire Papa, who undertook these unorthodox methods?"

"A wizard of the Purple Order named Olga Kahler. She was able to acquire a basic understanding of the enemy's language."

"How did she-"

"Death magic. She called upon the souls of the fallen enemy soldiers, and, through speaking with them, " Karl said, and that was all the answer Erhardt wanted, afraid to pry deeper into a Wizard's affairs.

---

This is a dark age, a bloody age, an age of daemons and of sorcery. It is an age of battle and death, and of the world's ending. Amidst all the fire, flame, and fury it is a time, too, of mighty heroes, of bold deeds and great courage.
At the heart of the Old World sprawls the Empire, the largest and most powerful of the human realms. Known for it's engineers, sorcerers, traders and soldiers, it is a land of great mountains, mighty rivers, dark forests and vast cities. And from his throne in Altdorf reigns the Emperor Karl Franz, sacred descendant of the founder of these lands, Sigmar Heldenhammer, and wielder of his magical warhammer, Ghal Maraz.
But these are far from civilized times. Across the length and breadth of the Old World, from the knightly palaces of Bretonnia to the ice-bound Kislev in the far north, come rumblings of war. In the towering Worlds Edge Mountains, the greenskin tribes are gathering for another assault. Bandits and renegades harry the wild southern lands of the Border Princes. There are rumors of rat-men, the Skaven, emerging from the sewers and swamps across the land. Something old and unholy stirs in Sylvannia, and talk is that the Von Carsteins have come again. And from the northern wildernesses there is the ever present threat of Chaos, of daemons and beastmen corrupted by the foul powers of the Dark Gods. And to add to the host of troubles the men of the Empire already face, a mysterious and magical Gate has appeared, and armies of invaders pour through it.
As the time of battle draws ever near, the Empire needs heroes like never before...​

 

[krahe]

This is a surprisingly nicely chosen cross for the Gate. Sure, both sides have their OP moments, Warhammer more so, but because it is a Warhammer, Empire can't just take their most overpowered forces and do a Crusade without being wiped out by their many enemies. I like it, it's really nice to see a rare not curbstomp Gate fic

 

[Cirex101 AKA IRUn]

Nagarythe, The Shadowlands, Ulthuan

"When we heard the noise, we thought it was just more Druuchi. Then we saw the thing; an archway made in the style of a human realm, obviously magical in nature. Nothing's come through it as of yet save a few beasts. None of us dared to enter the damned thing either, prefering to wait for your arrival Master Mage."

"Your caution does you credit Shadow Warrior," Sholacrel, mage of the White Tower of Hoeth, said to the elf who had led him to the magical gateway, "Gods only know what the origin of this thing is, or what might have become of you."

"Whatever it is, it bodes ill for us all." spoke Prince Madir, "So if you could begin before we all become old, it would be greatly appreciated."

The elves were standing atop a cliff side looking down at the beach before them. The Shadow Warrior stood to the left of Sholacrel, who was attended to by his senior apprentices. Madir, dressed in his ithilmar mail, and surrounded by his bodyguard and senior officers. Soon, they would traverse down a path towards the shore, and towards the reason for their presence, the mysterious archway.

Several weeks ago, reports came to the White Tower from the Shadowlands, of magical structure appearing on the shores of their ruined kingdom. After securing the archway, and fighting off the Druuchi scouts who infested the Shadowlands for it, the Shadow Warriors had sent for magical expertise. The High Loremaster Teclis responded by sending Sholacrel, a senior Archmage, and his apprentices, to the Shadowlands, escorted by Swordmasters.

The Shadowlands were dangerous though, and the archway was a complete unknown. For additional security, Sholacrel had called in a favor from his first cousin, Prince Madir, originally from Caledor but now dwelling in Ellyion with the family of his wife, for more forces to supplement the Shadow Warriors. In addition to Madir's own bodyguard, the Prince had brought with him two regiments each of spearmen and archers, as well as a band of Silver Helm Knights.

Young Vanon was one of those Silver Helms. Already unusual for being from a family with multiple children, he was the youngest of his family, and as such, Vanon stood little in inherit. Therefore, he took up arms for his Kingdom, and joined the ranks of the Silver Helms, both for glory and for the guantee of a future away from the shadows of his far more accomplished siblings.

He had done well so far; fighting Dark Elf raids on the Outer Kingdoms, as well as incursions by the fierce Norscans. It was during one of these raids that Vanon had slain the Norscan Warleader, and earned a place at the side of his superior, Prince Madir. Therefore, it was only natural that Madir had brought Vanon along to this trip to the Shadowlands.

The trip was uneventful, but it would be foolish to drop their guard now; Druuchi savages known as 'Shades' littered the countryside of the Shadowlands, and there was continuous fighting here between the Shadow Warriors and the servants if the Witch King.

"Do not press me Cousin," Sholacrel snapped, "Do I tell you how to impale an elf with your lance? No, so leave the affairs of magic to me."

"Fine." Madir replied, turning to Vanon, "Speak with the Shadow Warriors concerning any Druuchi presence in the area. If they suspect a threat, I wish to know of it. Then report back to me. I'm going down there." The Prince then turned on his heal and began making his way back to his horse.

"At once My Prince." Vanon said, though the proud Caledorian could no longer hear him. The young elf then turned towards the Shadow Warrior, "I apologize for my Lord; he is Caledorian you see-"

"Say no more." she replied, "We know of the Dragon Prince's... pride. We also no better than to take offense."

"That is good. Now, about the Druuchi?"

"After the initial attack from the Shades, we haven't encountered any. The Shadow King Alith Anar hunts for them, but so far, none have been seen, which is highly unusual."

"Do you think they are preparing for an assault on the archway?" Vanon asked. Though they currently knew nothing about the archway, even a young, elf like Vanon knew that to let it fall into the hands of the Witch King and his accursed mother.

"Anything is possible with the druuchi involved." she stated, "My people will continue to scour the countryside. Your Prince will guard the archway. I will keep you informed."

"Very well, I will relay this to my Prince. Good hunting...forgive me, but I do not believe I caught your name."


"It is Ivake. May the Cadai watch over you Silver Helm."

---

Days Later, Destroyed Village, Unknown Lands

"Well, any survivors yet?" Vanon asked from the back of his horse.

"None so far Captain." answered a spearman, "Merely more bodies."

After several days of research, Sholacrel had discovered the true nature of the archway, and its ability to travel to an another world. No sooner had he finished explaining this than he had asked for volunteers to go through it, and see what was on the other side.

Sending the Shadow Warriors was the first, logical choice. They were the most elite scouts on Ulthuan after all. However, with the threat of Druchii still hanging in the air, the Shadow Warriors were needed to guard the archway, and to continue to hunt for the enemy.

Therefore, Prince Madir had volunteered Vanon and a small squad of bowmen and spearmen through the archway; to see what was on the other side, and to determine if anything remotely civilized lived there.
When they had stepped through the portal, they had been greeted to the sight of vast grassy plains.

For the past few days, they traveled east, hoping to come across something besides wild animals.

On the dawn of the third day, Vanon believed that only beasts actually inhabited this world.

Then, on the fourth day, his party saw a forest; the first change in scenery since their mission began.

Of course, the forest also happened to be on fire at the time, with, of all creatures, a dragon flying overhead.

They waited for the dragon to leave before they moved into the woods. If the dragons here were anything like the ones back home on Ulthuan, then they did not burn down forests for no reason. Something was the target of it's wrath, and Vanon was determined to find out what exactly it was.

So they had entered the woods, and had come across a small village... or what was left of it after the dragon had been through it. All that remained was a handful of half destroyed structures, and many skeletons, some whose bones were half melted by dragon fire.

Due to the sheer scale of the destruction, and that only bones remained, it was impossible to tell what had actually lived here. So far, this excursion into the woods had proven to be merely a dead end.

"Asuryan damn it." Vanon cursed under his breath as he dismounted and led his mount to the well, one of the few surviving structures in the smoking remains of the village, "Returning to Prince Madir empty handed sits poorly with me."

"With all due respect Captain, we've only a few days of supplies left." a bowman said frankly, "We must begin heading back to the archway."

"I know Urhac." Vanon admitted sadly to the bowman. One half of him upset that they had nothing to show for this expedition, while the other half was upset for the lack of survivors.

"Thanks the Cadai that this well still stands. At the very least we will not die of thirst. Begin refilling our flasks." Vanon ordered as he grabbed the well's bucket, still miraculously attached to a rope, and dropped it into the well.

Not even a second after he had dropped the bucket than he heard two things; one was the bucket hitting something, followed by a splash.

The bucket had hit something on it's way down to the water.

Vanon looked over the edge of the well and his eyes widened.

"I see someone down there!" he exclaimed, unbuckling his sword and taking off his helmet, "Whomever they are they're still breathing!

"Urhac, grab this rope! I may need some help getting back up! Syanoc, grab some more rope from the packs! If this one breaks then I'll be needing another way to get us out of that well. Lellehe, prepare your equipment; whomever is down there may need a healer."

And so, Vanon climbed down the well. Upon reaching the bottom, his eyes acclimated to the darkness, and he could see that the person at the bottom was both a young girl, and an elf!

Elves, here, in another world? How? When? Why? Were they Asur, Asrai, or, dare he think it, Druchii?

Questions for later.

Vanon lifted the girl over his shoulder and began the climb back up. He was strong for a young elf, and though it took some effort, he was able to both climb back up the well, as well as carry the unconscious elf girl.
Upon reaching the top, he handed the girl to Lellehe, the healer, who immediately began inspecting the girl's head.

Vanon took a closer look at the girl and was struck by her looks. All elves were beautiful, but this girl was a beauty even among their kind. Not quite as slender as his kin, but her face looked like she belonged at court in Avelorn with the Everqueen.

Most of all, Vanon was just happy that they had found a survivor.

"How is she Lellehe?" Vanon asked the healer.

"All things considering, not too bad." Lellehe replied, her attention on dressing the girl's injuries, "But I believe she could have done without you inflicting that head wound on her with that bucket."

Vanon said nothing, grunted involuntarily. It was not as if he meant to knock her out; he did not even know that anyone was down there!

"Thankfully, your weapon of choice did not do any real damage." Lellehe explained, "By some miracle it seems she completely survived the dragon's fire with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises. Nothing that cannot be healed with time."

"That's good to know." Vanon said, not once taking his eyes off the girl, "Very good to know."

"Captain?" Urhac asked, brining Vanon back to reality, "She's an elf."

"I noticed, Urhac." Vanon retorted, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the girl and to Urhac, "If she is an elf, then I believe it is safe to assume that this was an elf village."

"I concur Captain." Urhac said, looking around, "If there are elves here though, would there be other, familiar races here as well? Could there be humans, greenskins, or worse, dwarfs here as well?"

"I do not know Urhac." Vanon admitted, walking towards his horse, "Those are questions for later though. For now though, we move out as soon as Lellehe is finished tending to the girl. We move out of these woods, and then make camp for the night."

"What about the girl Captain?" Urhac asked, "Are we bringing her with us?"

"Of course." Vanon replied, "She'll ride with me."

"Of course Captain."

---

"Prince Erhardt, there's a caravan over there."

Erhardt rode his horse over to Siegfried and took the telescope from the knight's hands, and looked through it. Sure enough, there was a wagon train of locals.

"Do you believe them to be merchants?" Erhardt asked as he looked the caravan over.

"They're not a merchant caravan." Siegfried answered, tightening his hold on the reins of his horse, "They are refugees, more likely than not."

"I do believe, Sir Siegfried, that you are correct." Erhardt said, "They do in fact have the look of refugees."

When you live in Altdorf for as long as Erhardt had, you learned how to tell the difference between a normal traveler and one forced to flee for their lives. Beastmen, greenskins, undead, and any number of other terrors made refugees out of the Empires citizens, and made villagers who never traveled more than a few miles from the place of their birth to take the long journey to safety, and as a result, many of those refugees inevitably ended up in Altdorf.

"If they are refugees," Father Wilhelm, a dour Warrior-Priest of Sigmar, said, balancing his hammer on his shoulder, "Then what are they fleeing from, and should we be concerned?"

One week ago, Erhardt had been made a General, and been given command of the Fort, just as his father said, and promised that the Margrave title would soon follow.

No sooner had he taken command than the Emperor had also sent him new soldiers, famed for their battlefield deeds, as well as experienced men to advise him.

Among the individuals that now made up his command staff included Siegfried von Tempenhoff, a first born son of a powerful Altdorf family, and a friend of Erhardt's. A former Reiksguard Knight, he was a veteran of many battles, and as such, was currently serving as Erhardt's second.

In addition to the career military men who now made up the young Prince's command staff, a group of battle wizards from the Colleges of Magic had also arrived. Ottmar, Magister of the Gold Order, the same as the current Supreme Patriarch, was the unofficial leader of the group. He was dressed in the golden robes of his order, but, in a departure of the current fashion of those who wield the Lore of Metal, did not hide himself with a mask, instead letting the whole world see his face. Three more wizards, Detlev of the Bright Order, Konrada of the Amber Order, and Markus of the Celestial Order, came with him.

No sooner had the Wizards stepped through the Gate than they immediately began recording everything. Apparently, this world was 'strange' to them in regards to magic, and they were determined to find out why. Erhardt was no scholar, lest of all in the arcane, but he allowed the wizards to go about their work regardless. He trusted their judgment, as their knowledge in such matters exceeded his own.

Father Wilhelm, the representative of the Church of SIgmar, was less than pleased by Erhardt allowing the wizards free reign. Like most members of the Priesthood, he had a great suspicion of magic, even when it was on his own side. Regardless though, he heeded Erhardt's command, but resolved to keep an eye on them anyway.

The good Father was not the only man watching the Wizards with sharp eyes; Wilhelm had brought along with him Victor Hausller, an... honored member of Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar... a Witch Hunter. There was a hard man if Erhardt had ever seen one. This was a man who hunted heretics and monsters, burned both them, and the innocent at the stake, and probably slept easily in the night.

Erhardt had fought mutant beastmen, greenskins, and all the might of the Invaders.

Victor Hausller scared him more than any of those monsters did.

What was worse, Erhardt was fairly certain that Hausller knew it.

Right now, all of these individuals went with Erhardt into his excursions of the Invader's countryside, accompanied by a small group of Reiksguard Knights, and several companies of pistoliers.

They had been ready to turn around and return back to the fort when Siegfried had caught sight of the caravan.

"Well Prince?" Siegfried asked, "What shall we do with them? Let them pass or do we go down and say 'hello?'"

"We need more information on these lands my Prince." Ottmar said as he rode up next to Erhardt, "We have a brief understanding of their language, but we need local knowledge. Perhaps we could work out a deal with those folk-"

"Or we could put the fear of the Heldenhammer into them, Magister." Hausller interrupted, "And force them to confess their knowledge."

"Enough, both of you." Erhardt commanded, trying to rein in his fear of the Witch Hunter "We will talk to these people. Heinrich?"

Erhardt's squire, a ten year old boy from a Duke's family, had his pony step forward.

"Yes M'Lord?"

"Do you have the Book?"

"Yes M'Lord."

'The Book' refered to the rough collection of everything that the Empire knew of the Invader's language. Without it, they had no hope of understanding what the locals would say.

"Hold a moment Prince Erhardt," Siegfried said, taking the telescope from the Prince's hands, "I see another group of people on the horizon."

"Are they the enemy?" Erhardt asked, "Or bandits?"

"No, no. I... I cannot believe that I am saying this, but I believe they are elves."

"Elves?" Erhardt repeated, a bit shocked, "So this land has elves as well as men. Fascinating."

"They are native to this land Prince Erhardt." Siegfried said with a shake of his head, "They fly colors from Ulthuan."

"The Asur?" Ottmar exclaimed, "Here? What are the Westerly folk doing-"

The mage was cut off by a distant roar. The men of the Empire turned their attention away from the Asur and back to the direction of the Caravan, which was currently under attack by a enormous flying monster, one that Erhardt had only seen once before, at the Imperial Zoo at Altdorf.

"Sigmar preserve us!" Wilhelm said, grasping his warhammer with both hands, "It's a Morr damned dragon!"

"A proper dragon at that." Seigfried added, "Not like those runts the Invaders rode."

The knight then turned to Erhardt, a serious look on his bearded face.

"My friend, we must leave before the beast notices us. We have no weapon that can stand before a dragon."

"On the contrary my good knight." Ottmar said, his fellow mages behind him, "You have four of the Winds of Magic at your disposal."

Erhardt looked skeptical before turning back to the dragon, unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," Ottmar started, "We must find out more about this land. That caravan is the only thing available to us right now. If we let that dragon kill them all, it may be some time fore we get another chance. In addition, the caravan will owe us their lives."

Erhardt said nothing for a second, before he nodded.

"Men!" he shouted, "Draw the attention of the dragon away from the caravan and the wizards. Ottmar and his fellows are going to kill that beast for us! Now ride, as if Khaine and all his hell were upon you!"

---

"Captain Vanon, it's the dragon again!" a bowman said.

"I can see it." Vanon replied, looking at the great beast as it attacked a human wagon train.

The young elf girl's wounds had been treated, but she was still unconscious. They could no longer afford to wait, so instead of riding with Vanon, the girl was instead placed upon a makeshift stretcher, and carried between two spearmen. After the refilled their water, the party had set out. A few hours into the march, they caught sight of the wagons. Vanon was going to ride over to greet them, before the dragon that had burned down the girl's village had appeared.

Now, they were witnessing more of the dragon's rampage unfurling before their very eyes.

"A poor way to go." Urhac commented, "Whatever those humans may or may not have done in their life, I would not wish death by dragonfire on my worst enemy."

"Not even if it was a Druchii?"

"Exceptions exist."

Vanon grunted before he addressed the party, "We double back the way we came, and wait for the dragon to leave! No point in risking our lives-"

"Captain, humans on horseback are riding towards the dragon!" Urhac exclaimed.

Then they are brave, but nothing to do with us-"

"They bear banners of the Empire of Man!"

That got Vanon's attention. Empire humans, here?

"How in the name of the Cadai-" Vanon started.

"Captain!"

Vanon growled. He was becoming tired of being cut off mid sentence.

"What is it Lellehe?"

"It's the girl! She's awake!"

The girl was indeed awake, and already standing, and though her footing was uncertain, her eyes were sharp and alert looking at the dragon in the distance.

Vanon got off his horse and made his way to her. The girl saw Vanon and tried to take a step, only to stumble, forcing Lellehe to catch her.

"Are you alright?" Vanon asked the girl, "Can you tell us your name?"

The girl responded with a quick succession of gibberish.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Vanon asked, "Can you speak Eltharin?"

More panicked gibberish.

"I shall take that as a no." Vanon sighed.

The girl then pointed at the dragon before pointing at her eye, all the while saying the same word over and over again.

The meaning behind this dawned on Vanon.

"I think she's saying to attack the dragon in the eyes." Urhac said, "Must be it's only weak point."

"I agree." Vanon replied.

"Captain, we're not actually considering going up against a dragon are we?" a spearman asked, "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but that is not our mission!"

"Our mission to to discover what lies on the other side of the archway." Vanon said, "Right now, the only lead we have is a young girl who doesn't speak our language, and a band of humans from the Empire, who is currently running headfirst into a hopless fight with a dragon. If we wish to discover anything about this world, then the Imperials are our best choice. That is, unless you wish to teach the girl Eltharin yourself?"

"No Captain."

"Then we save the humans from being killed by the dragon. Archers, aim for it's eyes! I'll draw it's attention! The success of our mission depends on keeping at least one of those humans alive!"

---

Erhardt didn't know how he was going to survive this. Put him in a fight against beastmen or greenskins, and he was calm and cool under pressure. A dragon though? Those great beasts that could fight a greater daemon one on one?

A voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him, accusing him of leading his people into certain death. Of being an embarrassment to his father and his house.

He silenced the voices. Self doubt now of all times would get him, and everyone else killed. Now was the time for focus.

"Pistoliers! Fire at will!" he ordered.

They obeyed, unloading rounds of lead at the fire breathing beast. It would not be enough to kill it, even one as unfamiliar with dragons as Erhardt was knew that. That was not the point of it though; they were trying to draw it's attention away from the caravan, who was already losing people to the overgrown flying lizard.

As expected, the pistols did not even scratch the armor like scales of the dragon. It did succeed in drawing it's attention away from the locals.

Erhardt could now see that the only the dragon's right eye was of any use to the beast; the other had an arrowshaft sticking out of it's left.

"Men of the Empire!" Erhard shouted over the dragon's roars, "It is blinded in it's left eye! Attack from there!"

The dragon flapped it's wings and raised itself into the air. It then descended upon a trio of pistoliers, knocking them off their horses and skewering them on it's claws.

Another group of pistoliers were coming on it's left side, firing for the eye. The dragon turned it's head and opened it's mouth.

Erhardt's eyes widened.

"You fools!" he screamed, "It's going to breath fire on you! Scatter!"

If the men heard him, it wouldn't have mattered. The dragon's fire engulfed both horses and riders. All Erhardt could do was pray that they died quickly.

"Wizards!" he yelled, "Use your damned power!"

The dragon then turned to Erhardt, and made to open it's mouth. This time, however, a fireball hit it across it's snout.

"Come now you great lizard!" Detlev the Bright Wizard screamed, his hands holding an ever growing fireball, "Have a taste of true fire!"

The wizard cast another fiery spell at the dragon, but the beast did not seem to take notice of the attacks.

"You fool, that thing breaths fire!" Konrada of the Amber Order shouted, "You can't kill it with it's own weapon!"

"Then I need to use more fire!" Detlev shouted back, riding closer to the dragon, inhaling, and then exhaling an inferno into the dragon's face.

Erhardt was then sure that the Bright Wizard was insane.

The dragon roared and took flight once again; you don't know if Detlev was actually hurting the thing, but it was certainly making it uncomfortable enough to keep distance between itself and the mad magister.

"We must keep it grounded!" Erhardt shouted to his men, "Aim for the wings!"

Above him, Konrada the Amber Wizard had used her magic to transform her body into that of a giant eagle. She then used that form to attack the head of the dragon, using her superior speed and maneuverability to stay out of the range of the drago's snapping jaws.

"My Prince!" Ottmar, Gold Wizard, rode up to Erhardt, "Markus and I have a plan, but he requires time to cast it! I will bring the dragon down, but you and your men must keep it's focus away from Markus!"

"Do what you must Magister!" Erhardt stated, drawing his blade, "And we shall do what we must! For Sigmar and the Empire! Come men! Let us send this beast to Morr!"

Erhardt kicked his horse, and he charged alongside the Reiksguard Knights, drawing swords and aiming lances at the dragon.

The dragon turned around and, using it's wings like sails, created powerful gusts of wind to knock them all back. The winds forced some knights back, but knocked a few knights off their horses, such was the power of these gusts. Those who remained on horseback were forced to break off their charge.

Erhardt was one of these knights, knocked off his horse, and thrown to the ground. Then, to his horror, no sooner had he hit the ground then his horse fell on top of his legs. Erhardt roared in pain; perhaps one of his legs were broken. The horse then got up and ran off, leaving Erhardt on the ground.

Ottmar raised his staff, and began to draw the Gold Wind to him. After a few seconds of casting, he unleashed his power in the form of the spell known as 'Searing Doom,' causing molten metal to rain down from the sky like arrows.

The dragon's scales would protect it from most of the spell... but it's leathery wings were exposed, and vulnerable.

The Searing doom came down like rain, and hundreds of shards of razor shop and burning metal pieced it's wings, making dozens of holes, and tearing to shreds the once mighty wings, capable of bearing the dragon through the air, and forcing it to land.

Unfortunately, it landed right in front of Erhardt.

From it's one good eye, the dragon was staring right at him. Though it was in pain, it would use it's strength to kill him at the very least.

It moved forward, it's massive head low to the ground, and it's jaws coming closer and closer to the Prince.

Erhardt picked up his sword, a 'Griffon Claw' blade, and held it in front of himself. If he was to die, he would die defiant, and not show the fear that was gripping his soul.

"Sigmar, give me strength to face this." Erhardt prayed, "Morr, if you judge me good, let me join you at your side, and let my ancestors, all noble Princes of Reikland, welcome me with open arms. Shallya, have mercy on my father."
The dragon was getting closer when, suddenly, Erhardt heard the sound of a galloping horse coming from his right; the same direction as the dragon's blindspot.

A knight on horseback had ridden up to the horse, and stabbed a lance into it's left eye, causing it to scream in pain and rage.

The knight abandoned his lance in the great wrym's eye, and rode his horse over to Erhardt.

"Give me your hand man!" he said in accented Reikspiel.

Erhardt did as he was bade, and raised a hand. Somehow, with one hand, the knight was able to lift Erhardt, who wore plate armor, onto the back of his horse, without having his arm be pulled out of his socket.

The knight then sped off on his horse, as a rain of arrows began to fall upon the dragon. Erhardt looked to see where they were coming from, and saw a company of the High Elves they had spotted earlier on a hill, shooting at the dragon.

If they were High Elves, then that meant that the knight who rescued him was also an-

The dragon roared, and began breathing fire as a response to the pain it was feeling.

Far away, on another hill, the Celestial Wizard, Markus, was ready to cast his spell.

"Let this end now!" he roared, before unleashing the power of the Blue Wind.

The spell he cast was the 'Comet of Cassandora,' a powerful spell that reached into the heavens, and pulled down on a meteorite to bring it to earth.

This time, the Comet was coming for the dragon.

Wounded, and with useless wings, even if the the dragon was aware of the incoming space rock, it could not move in time.

The comet hit it's target dead center, and when it struck true, a loud boom filled the region, and it kicked up a cloud of dust engulfed the area where the dragon was.

The knight rode a bit farther away before stopping next to the main gathering of the Empire's expedition.

"Take your Prince." he said, and they wasted no time in lifting Erhardt's body off of the Elven steed and onto the ground. Father Wilhelm began using his healing powers on Erhardt, and his squire Heinrich was pouring ale down his throat from a flask.

Erhardt looked up at the face of his rescuer. He was indeed an elf, wearing a silver helmet.

"I thank you noble Asur." Erhardt said, "For saving my life. Pray tell though, what are the children of Ulthuan doing here?"

"I am Captain Vanon of Ulthuan. As for why I am here, I could ask the same of you, sons of the Empire." came the response.

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud rumble filled the air. All looked towards the where the dragon was.

The dust had cleared, and all could see the dragon now. The Comet had struck true, and had broken the back of the dragon. It now lay on the ground, paralyzed from it's shattered spine. It was dying a slow and painful death.
It needed to be put out of it's misery.

"Wait here for a moment Imperial." Vanon said, and he directed his horse back towards the dragon.

Erhardt watched him go, and then looked around the collateral destruction of the battle. The field was on fire, and he had lost a little over a dozen men to this beast.

The caravan was still alive though. Right now, one of their wagons was making it's way towards them.

"Heinrich." Erhardt started, "Tell me you still have that book."

"Yes M'Lord."

"Good. Because in a few moments, we're going to need it."

---

Vanon rode his horse towards the dragon at a quick pace. Though it had been their enemy not too long ago, Vanon did not want the creature to suffer.

His path towards the dragon took him next to his soldiers, and the girl they had found. The girl ran up to his horse and launched into a stream of her native tongue, pointing at both herself and at the dragon.

Vanon did not understand the words, but he understood the meaning.

She wanted to come with him to see the dragon who had destroyed her village and killed her kin die with her own eyes.

Vanon reached down and lifted her up onto the horse. She was much thankfully much lighter than that young human lord, and therefore much easier to pull up (his arm was still mad at him for that stunt with the human). He placed her in front of him, and then began making his way towards the dragon once more.

A minute later, they were at the dragon, who was laying perfectly still, unable to even growl at them, only unleash short, distressing, noises.

Vanon dismounted first, and, since the girl had no idea how to dismount properly, lifted the girl bodily from the saddle. The pair of them then made their way to the crippled beast. The girl's stare was both fearful and hard at the same time. Vanon's sword was in his hand.

A few yards away from the dragon, and Vanon held up a finger, and the girl stopped moving forward. Vanon continued the rest of the way towards it until he was finally right next to the right side of it's head, with it's one good eye, which was now looking up at him.

Vanon raised his sword, and stabbed it into the dragon's head, between it's scales, dislodged from the magical comet, where it's brain would be. The dragon let out one final roar, and then fell silent.

Vanon's sword and armor was covered in the creature's blood. There was nothing he could do about the armor for the time being, but he knelt down and cleaned his sword upon the grass. He looked up at the girl, and saw that she was still standing; several tears were rolling down her face, but her eyes were hard.

He stood up and walked over to her, sheathing his sword and taking his helmet off. When he reached her, he became very aware of the difference in height between the two of them; he stood almost two heads taller than her.
She looked up at him, and with tearful eyes, brought a hand up to her chest and said, "Tuka... Tuka."

"Tuka." he repeated, "That must be your name."

"Vanon." he said, lightly pounding a clenched fist against his armor.

He gestured towards the horse, and Tuka nodded, but not before she walked closer tot he dragon and spat at it, before turning around and walked back towards his horse.

---

Across the grassy fields, a lone figure stood and watched the battle that had taken place before her.

"Well, well, it seems the world on the other side of the Gate has some very interesting people." Rory Mercury said as she balanced her giant axe against her shoulder, "Perhaps it wouldn't be a waste of time to check it out."

---

"Well Lelei, what do you make of this?"

Lelei looked at the men pointed out to her by her master, Cato the Elder Sage. They wore strange clothes, and carried banners she did not recognize. Perhaps they were from a far away vassal nation?

Whomever they were, they had mages in their company who were capable of slaying the ancient flame dragon that had burned down Coda Village.

"They are powerful." she finally said, "And we should be wary."

"I'm inclined to agree with you young one." Cato nodded as he directed their wagon closer to their mysterious saviors, "Still though, it would be rude of us not to thank them."

Many of their fellow villagers had died in both the initial destruction of Coda, and then in the flame dragon's followup attack. As such, while the Village Elder and any able bodied men attempted to round up any survivors from their caravan, it had fallen onto Cato and Lelei to speak with the strangers who had slain the dragon on Coda's behalf.

The dragon, slain! She still could barely believe it! Never in the recorded history of anywhere on Falmart had anyone, no knight, nor elf, nor mage, had ever accomplished such a feat, at least not when the dragon in question was an ancient flame dragon.

The mages in their ranks were leagues above anything ever previously recorded... and Lelei was curious to know more about this magic, and she knew that her master shared her desire as well.

Two knights on horseback rode towards them. Cato stopped the horses and raised a hand in greeting.

"Hello Sir Knights!" he called out, "Thank you for your timely rescue! I am Cato El Altestan, better known as Cato the Elder Sage! And you are?"

"Wir sprechen Ihre Sprache nicht alter Mann." a knight said.

Lelei blinked. That wasn't the common tongue. In fact, that was no language she had ever heard before. Whomever their saviors were, they were far from home.

A knight pointed a gauntlet clad finger at them, and then pointed at a group of his fellows.

"Folge uns. Unser Prinz möchte mit Ihnen sprechen." he said, and then he and he partner turned their horses around and trotted back towards their main group.

"Well, I do say that they wish to follow us Lelei." Cato said, "Best not keep them waiting. I suppose we could walk the rest of the way though. Come, help me down. I'm afraid that these old bones make it hard for me to do this myself."

After she had helped her master down, Lelei and Cato walked through the ranks of the strange men, Lelei taking care to take note about everything that she saw.

These men wore red clothes under their metal armor, and their heraldry featured heavy usage of skulls, griffons, hammers, strange crosses, and twin tailed comets. These men were grim faced, indicative of years of hard living, and most certainly hard fighting. They also forsook the current Saderan fashion of being clean shaven in exchange for long, well groomed, and sometimes elaborate beards and mustaches, reminding her of her Master, Cato.

In the back of Lelei's mind, she wondered if these were the mysterious Outlanders who came through the Gate, fought off the Allied Army, and who currently occupied the sacred Alnus Hill.
If they were powerful enough to kill a flame dragon, then they could very well be one and the same.

The knights they were following had long since dismounted, and led them through the maze of the foreign soldiers. Eventually, they reached the commander of these men, and his retinue.

"Prinz Erhardt, hier sind die Einheimischen, wie Sie bestellt haben." a knight said, and their commander, a man seated on the ground, whose back was turned to them, stood up, and turned around.

'He is young for a commander.' Lelei thought as she saw him. Indeed he was young; he couldn't be much older than herself, and she was only sixteen! How did one so young become put in charge of so many obviously seasoned veterans?

Nepotism, most likely...

"Well hello lad!" Cato said, "My name is Cato El Altestan, better known as Cato the Elder Sage! On behalf of Coda Village and her fine inhabitants, or at least those who remain alive and unburnt, we thank you for your timely assistance! Tell me, where are your mages, and when can I speak with them?"

The soldiers looked among themselves with confused expressions.

"Master." Lelei interjected, and Cato looked at her, "I do not believe they understand us any more than we understand them."

Her master then brought a hand to his face.

"Oh, right, you do not understand me. Apologies, friends." he said.

The Commander barked an order to a boy, ten to twelve years of age perhaps, who then took out a book, and as the Commander began to speak, the boy scanned the pages of the book.

"Hello locals." the boy said in the Common Tongue, but with a thick accent, "Am Prince Erhardt of Empire. Offer protection for words. Safety for people. Follow we. Understand, yes?"

The boy looked up at Cato with pleading eyes. Cato chuckled and nodded.

"Understand, yes!" Cato answered, and the boy's expression brightened as he turned to his Commander, this 'Prince Erhardt,' before launching into a stream of words in his people's strange and harsh tongue.

"Well, time to take this news back to the Elder." Cato said as he turned around, "These gentlemen have a safe place for us! Gods know we need one!"

Lelei nodded and followed her Master, but not before she watched as several individuals in elaborate robes walked over to the Prince. She knew instantly that these were the mages who killed the dragon.

She was wary of these newcomers; they could be the ones who were fighting the Empire of Sadera, her nation, after all. That being said, her waryness was eclipsed by her desire to find out more about their mages, and if she could learn their powerful magics.

So consumed with that one thought, Lelei almost did not notice the elf on horseback riding past her, with another elf, a pretty young female, sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around him.

---

"Well met Son of Sigmar!" the elf, Vanon, said in perfect Reikspiel, as he rode up to Erhardt, "You fought well this day. Not every human can claim that they survived a battle against a dragon!"

Though Father Wilhelm's powers had healed his leg, Erhardt's stance was shaky; something he tried to not show in front of either his men, the locals, or the Asur who saved his life.

"High praise coming from one of the folk of Ulthuan." Erhardt replied, looking the elf in the eyes, "I would like to thank you Captain Vanon, once again, for saving my life."

"Think nothing of it." Vanon said as he dismounted, and Erhardt saw that the elf was not along. Also on the back of his horse was an elf girl, young, by their standards at least.

"Pardon me if I come off as presumptious Noble Azr," Erhardt began, "But if I may ask, how did you come to be in this land?"

"An archway, magical in nature, appeared one day in Ulthuan." Vanon explained, "My superior, Prince Madir, ordered my party through it, to see what was on the other side."

Erhardt was shocked. There was a second Gate, on Ulthuan of all places?

"You look as if you have seen a ghost Prince Erhardt." Vanon said.

"Forgive me Captain, but is it true that you came here through a magical gate?"

"Indeed it is true." Vanon said, raising one of his long eyebrows, "Why?"

"For it was through another of those gates which is how we men of the Empire came to be in this world." Erhardt explained.

"This world?" Vanon repeated, his eyes widening, "Then this is not the Old World?"

"I am afraid it is not." Erhardt shook his head, "This is an entirely new world, filled with humans, and other monsters."

"Then it is also filled with elves." Vanon said as he gestured to the elf girl, who blinked and appeared taken aback at suddenly being the center of attention, "This is Tuka, the dragon we killed was responsible for her village's destruction."

"Then elves live here as well." Erhardt mutttered to himself before looking at Vanon, "Captain, I invite you and your people to my fort. We can compare information there, as well as obtain new information from the locals that we just rescued from that dragon."

"A sound plan Prince." Vanon agreed, "I will go tell my people. How far is your fort?"

"Not far. Half a day's ride to the north."

"Then I will gather my people, and together we will go to your fort."

---

Tuka did not really know what to make of her situation. On one hand, she was surrounded by strangers, whom she did not understand, and whom could not understand her. On the other hand, she did not have anywhere else to go. Her village was destroyed, long time friends and family dead, and father... father was missing. Yes, just missing. He had to have escaped! He just had to!

In addition, the elves she now found herself surrounded with were friendly enough, especially their leader, whom Tuka suspected was attracted to her, and, perhaps most important right now, demonstrated that they were capable in a fight. Add to safety in numbers, and Tuka was better off in their company than she was alone, even if they now seemed to be traveling with humans, whom all elves had to be wary of.

Still though, the elf she now rode with, and by extension the elves under his command, were different from her people. To start, he was taller than most men of her village, and his features were more striking than handsome. Also, there was the way he carried himself; this was not an elf who had lost lands and had his people killed by humans. This was an elf who never had to endure racial slurs, or pogroms that her ancestors faced. This was an elf who was a lord among his people, who was clad in armor, and fought with a sword that none in her village would have ever dreamed of either affording, or using.

What sort of life in his homeland did he lead, to require such equipment? Many answers formed in her mind, but none satisfied her curiosity.

With so many differences between them, Tuka vowed that when she learned his language, she would ask this Vanon all the questions that lingered in her mind and more.

For now though, she took comfort in the fact that, despite the language barrier, she felt safe around him, and his many warriors.

---

An hour later, Reikland Imperials, High Elves, and local Falmarters made their way towards Fort Griffon. Erhardt had sent runners ahead to inform the fort of their arrival, and of their guests, and to send wagons back for the dragon's corpse; it's scales, teeth, bones, and other body parts would sell for a fortune.

None noticed the solitary girl, carrying an axe far larger and taller than she, following them.

---

They had reached Fort Griffon without further incident. Thanks to the runners Erhardt had sent up ahead, the garrison was expecting them, and opened the gates to the fort upon arrival.

"Welcome back Prince," General Johann von Midden, commander of the Middenland soldiers, greeted the second Erhardt got off his horse, "Successful day I see; managed to make friends with the locals?"

"Not quite General." Erhardt answered as he handed his horse off to a stableboy, "Trust has yet to be obtained I am afraid; though saving their lives from a dragon will no doubt help in gaining their trust."

"We shall see." Johann replied as he looked at the Coda refugees, "What do you plan on doing with them?"

"For now, we will house them within the fort. Then I will see about constructing housing for them outside the walls."

"A town for your fort then?" Johann asked, "Not even officially a Markgrave yet, and you're already setting down roots."

"Only a fool does not plan for the future."

Johann was about to say more when he caught sight of the High Elves marching into the fort.

"Holy Ulric... I never thought that the day would come where I would see elves."

"It gladdens my heart to see you moved so, General." Erhardt joked, "It seems as if there is another gate, and it has opened on their island kingdom. Their captain and I are going to speak to one another. General, I leave you in charge of the refugees. Perhaps later we can employ the able bodied men and boys do some work around here."

"It shall be done my Prince."

From the back of Vanon's horse, Tuka looked around at the fort and it's inhabitants. More humans, not Imperials but the outsiders, with their bushy beards, guttural language, and odd clothes. The way they stared at her, as if she were some kind of extraordinary thing. Why? It was true that few elves left their forest homes, but these humans looked and acted as if they had never seen one of her people before.

For some reason, it made her uneasy. Subconsciously, she tightened her grip around the man she was riding with.

If Vanon was aware of her subconcious act, he gave no indication. Instead, he stopped his horse, got off of it, and held out his hand to Tuka.

She did not know why he insisted on helping her up and off his horse. After all, she had recovered enough to do that herself. Still though, a part of her was flattered at the attention he was giving her; it helped distract from the loss of all her family and friends back in Kowan.

That he was not too bad looking was a bonus.

Wordlessly, she took his hand, and allowed him to help her down. He then walked over to the human leader, leaving her next to the horse. Though the language barrier was still a problem, she felt at ease among these strange elves; not the least because they were skilled warriors. If they were at her village, perhaps they could have fought off... no. There was no use in thinking about that. All she could do right now was stick with these elves, recover her strength, and then go and search for her father, and any other survivors of her village.

"Hello there young elf!"

She almost jumped out of her skin at the loud voice. She turned around and saw the old human mage walk up to her, a young girl of sixteen, his daughter perhaps, or an apprentice, trailing behind him.

"Sorry to spook you," he said with a mirthful grin, "I am Cato, the Elder Sage, and this is my apprentice, Lelei. Say hello Lelei!"

"Hello."

"Hello to you as well." Tuka responded, smiling for the first time in a while, "How can I help you?"

"I see you're traveling with a band of strange elves Miss!"

"Strange is... one word for it." Tuka said, "They fight like I've seen human soldiers fight; with formations, and they wear armor like knights. They are unlike any elves I've ever met before."

"Do you think they're from beyond the Gate as well?" Lelei asked Tuka.

"I think so." Tuka replied. On the way to the fort, Tuka had overheard the Coda villagers talk about the strange humans; how they were from beyond the Gate, and how they had taken Alnus Hill for themselves. From what she had seen of these humans, she believed that they were from another world; that made it easier for her to believe that Vanon's elves were also not natives.

"Hmmm." Cato muttered, his hand stroking his beard, "It appears that all of us have just became traitors to Sadera. Now that we're under the protection of these newcomers, I fear that, once the Empire finds out that we accepted their offer of sanctuary, they will kill us all."

Tuka nodded, though a part of her wasn't to concerned with her new, wanted status.

'As if the Empire actually needed a reason to hunt elves.' she thought, "It has never stopped them before."

"Having second thought Master?" Lelei asked Cato, who shook hsi head.

"Hardly. Sadera wasn't going to come save us, and I've never been especially fond of Molt Sol Augustus anyway. If the safety and security of our village means that we work with these Outsiders, then I'll be glad to do it.

"Speaking of which, Lelei, it looks like it's time to talk." Cato pointed at a man wearing robes that made Tuka suspect that he was a scribe of sorts, who was walking over to them with one of the soldiers.

"Cato Old Sage?" he said in broken Common, "With me come. Speak learn please."

"Well, duty calls!" Cato announced, "Come Lelei, you might learn something."

The two humans left Tuka, who, for the lack of anything better to do, decided to get the lay of the land and explore the fort. She grimaced when she saw the heads on spikes decorating the walls; heads of ogres, orcs, goblins, and other demi humans that the Empire used as disposable shock troops. On the way into the fort, they had passed by the remains of huge funeral pyres, where the soldiers had burned thousands of dead bodies; the remains of the enemy force attempting to take back Alnus Hill. Even within the fort, Tuka could smell smoke and burning flesh; it was too similiar to the remains of her village for her liking.

She uttered a silent prayer to Lunaryur that she would not have to stay here for long... or if she was destined to spend time here, that the smell of smoke would soon pass.

---

"A hostile empire rules these lands, and has numerous legions of men to throw at us." Erhardt explained as he took a seat across from Vanon, motioning to a servant to pour them wine, "The other end of this Gate that we built this fort around is located in the heart of Reikland, my home province, only a stone's throw away from Ubersreik. It was only by the grace of the gods that we managed to throw the invaders back through this gate before they truly had a chance to reap greater havoc on our lands."

Vanon nodded, "As far as we know, the native empire is unaware of the Archway leading to Ulthuan. That is good; from what you have told me of them, they would not hesitate to invade. Ulthuan already possess a surplus of enemies; we do not need another."

"Then we should be grateful that they remain unaware, for the moment at least." Erhardt replied, "Where did your Gate open? Somewhere on Ulthuan, obviously..."

"What do you know of the Kingdoms of Ulthuan Prince?"

"Not much I'm afraid. I once went to Lothern with my father and family once, when I was younger, but I barely remember the trip."

"The Archway, or Gate as you call it, opened in the Kingdom of Nagarythe, more commonly known as the Shadowlands, or the Sunken Isles, the most heavily contested territory on all Ulthuan. Ever since the sundering, a shadow war has been fought between the Shadow Warriors and our traitorous kin, the Druchii."

"The Dark Elves?" Erhardt asked, "For the Gate to open there is... disturbing news. If they should take your Gate, and then discover our Gate, then they have a backdoor to the heart of the Empire. That is unacceptable."

"None of this is acceptable." Vanon stated, "Druchii on one end, and a hostile human empire on the other. Ulthuan can ill afford being caught between two such foes."

"Then it seems we share a common purpose Captain; both our homelands are threatened by one another's enemies, and we must both see to it that none of our enemies can breach the Gates."

"So, you propose a military alliance then?"

"I do. We must secure both Gates, as well as prevent the native empire from threatening us."

"I am afraid that such matters are above my rank Prince. I am merely a Knight, and I must report back to my own Prince. I will bring him your offer; though he can be a touch arrogant, Prince Madir is no fool. He will see the wisdom of an alliance between Ulthuan and the Empire of Man, and convince the Phoenix King to devote troops to such an enterprise."

"I am grateful for your assistance and cooperation then Captain Vanon." Erhardt nodded, "In the meantime, I will petition my father the Emperor for more soldiers, or failing that, funds with which to hire sellswords. If and when you return here, you will not find us to have been idle."

"To our common cause then." Vanon said, raising his cup.

"To our common cause." Erhardt replied.

Elf and man then touched their cups together and drank.

"If you do not mind me asking Captain, what do you intend to do with that elf girl?"

"Who, Tuka?"

"Yes, her. As I understand it, she is a native of this land."

"She is. That elves are in this world as well as yours is surprising, and raises many questions to her people's origins. I intend to take her with me back to Ulthuan, so that wiser elves than I can find a way to discover how this came to be."

"Interesting... first men dwell in this world, then elves. Do you suspect that other races live here? Greenskins perhaps, or the dawi?"

"If there would be one race that I would not be surprised to see live here, it would be the greenskin barbarians. As for the dawi... I'd rather not think about that."

"Fair enough Captain, fair enough."

---

Italica

King Duran of Elbe was not a happy man. He had not been happy since before the Allied Army was broken at Alnus, sent there to die by Emperor Molt Sol Agustus.

Though they lost only a third of their men, only a handful of the leaders of Army had survived the meat grinder that were the defenses that the Outlanders had set up. The blood of many kings and princes has soaked the ground of the sacred hill before the fighting was done, many of them good friends of his. Death on the battlefield was one thing, but then there was the Outlander madman with the ridiculous feathered hat who rode into the Allied Army's camp at night, set tents, men, and supplies on fire, and lopped off the heads of their commanders and stole them before stealing into the night like a bandit! Upon the Outlander's walls, Duran had recognized more than one familiar head, stabbed onto a pike.

Even with the deaths of so many brave nobles, the army should not have dissolved the way it did. The chain of command broke down, and order imploded. Entire companies of men turned on their officers and then deserted.

Fragmented as they were, Duran and other commanders took their men and left Alnus, before the enemy took their chance to counterattack and take advantage of the fragmented state of the Allied Army.

Fleeing the incoming carnage, Duran and his surviving men, 10,000 Elbans, and another three thousand from the scattered Allied Kingdoms, went to Italica to lick their wounds, guests of the newly titled Countess Formal, a young girl thrust into a leadership role long before she was prepared for the task.

Duran would reorganize his army, and then return to Elbe. Then he would find ways to get back at Molt.

At least, that was the plan before the mob of soldiers he left behind at Alnus also came to Italica... not to seek shelter, but to raid and pillage the lands of the Formal family.

This bandit army outnumbered his force, and the Italica City Guard three times over. Soon, they would surround the city, and cut off all chance of escape. The smart thing to do would be flee, while he still had a chance... but the honorable man in him refused to leave the Countess to a horrible fate.

If any of them were to survive this, they would need help, and soon.

 

[Skychan]

This does seem to be a fun variant. I'm looking forward to seeing how it goes.