A Pyre For Greed And Monsters - Magnus von Hohenzollern Interlude [Concurrent With Spikes, Horns, and Stone 18]
A Pyre For Greed And Ambition - Magnus von Hohenzollern Interlude
Concurrent With Spikes, Horns, and Stone 18
Concurrent With Spikes, Horns, and Stone 18
Smoke was pouring out of the Middle Mountains.
Or, in this case, one mountain in particular.
To be even more specific, it was the inner depths of the mountain known as Hohlraum. One of the most forbidding amongst the peaks that made up the range, it had been named in the ancient days of the tribes before Sigmar. Not every mountain gained a name, at least one that was widely known beyond those who lived their lives in the shadows of them. Even then, it was more often that the small hamlets or villages that struggled to exist in those darker and more savage times would simply refer to 'the mountain' for that which was nearest to them. But not all. Nordberg, the tallest. Flamespire Peak, characterized by the unique and mysterious coloration of its upper fourth, namely where the soil and rocks therein were of a reddish orange hue which looked like flames coming to life in those rare but notable times when the snows would melt away for a time during the summer. There were more, but few as ill-thought of as Hohlraum, at least in those ancient days. Before that, it became known and was named by the dwarfs as Karag Malokkruk, or the Malicious Disappointment of a Barren Mountain. As the story went, from those few dwarfs willing to even speak of the Middle Mountains, it was because it had absolutely no value whatsoever in its depths. There was no gold, no silver, no copper, no iron, no gemstones, not cinnabar or otherwise. It was quite simply just a large barren hunk of rock.
"I think that either the dwarfs lied to us, or lied to themselves," Magnus von Hohenzollern declared as he swiped his face clear of soot and sweat and surveyed their work.
"I would believe it more likely to be the latter," declared the Amber Magister Alric, his features largely hidden within the shadows of an elk-skull helm. "Those who knew the most lied to the others, perhaps. Knowing dwarfs and oaths, I'd bet that the liars went to their graves keeping the secret, to spare the rest of their kind the shame."
The final battles against the fungal monstrosity that had tried to swarm out of the eastern Middle Mountains had been grueling, there was no mistake about that. A fourth of the Army of the Range was dead, not just in getting to the unearthed cave system that had been broken open but then holding the line so that it could be burned out properly. Every single time that Magnus had watched as pitch and spirits were poured in and set alight, and every single time that the depths of Hohlraum had let out earsplitting shrieks from too many mouths made of fungal flesh, he had thought it the end. Then yet more nightmares had begun shaking the earth as they attempted to repel those who were slowly killing it. As they had pushed west across the mountains and valleys, the subsumed creatures of the so-called Ixfernicth had begun to change. The most recent ones, those greenskins and beastmen and unfortunate humans with the occasional dwarf mixed in were long gone by now. Or at least, those that were still visibly what they had once been were no longer being thrown against them. The longer a creature was infested, the less and less distinct they would become, the stringy white fungus and its disgusting hardening ichor starting to overtake whatever armor they wore in life while forming impossibly sharp and strong claws to replace the weapons they might have once wielded. Once those initial beings were gone, and the enemy had begun to run out of those animals who's instincts had not compelled them to run away, all that had been left were the skaven. After the fires had burned most of those corpses to death, or sheer physical trauma had done so, they had found evidence of what had once been the armor of stormvermin and the most hulking creatures who might once have been rat ogres.
It did not take a genius to realize just why these were the oldest of the creatures that the Ixfernicth had access to and those that it was forced to use the closer they got to its exit out into the open world – who had facilitated said escape in the first place.
By the time they had reached those caverns themselves, all of them boring out of a disgusting tunnel with thick ropey strands of grasping fungus as thick as a giant's fingers extruding in all directions, everyone knew just how dangerous the creatures were. To fight near them for too long was to allow their spores into the lungs, into the nose, into the mouth, and Magnus had already lost too many brave souls as the spores latched on and immediately began to consume them from within. Many had chosen to allow themselves to be killed before their brains could turn to white mush and powder, with only a few cowards keeping it to themselves until the first mushrooms began to poke out from behind vacant eyeballs and stalks began to unfurl out of their ears. Spears and pikes, archers and handgunners, these were what won against the Ix. Swordsmen and Greatswords could not keep them at bay at enough distance. Though in the end, one of their greatest advantages had been the wizards, for though Alric and those who followed him could not technically conjure fire, the winds of Ghur was effective enough in its own ways at turning the spores away from the good soldiers of Ostland when they were not destroying the larger Ix abominations instead.
Their other greatest advantage being the dragon, of course.
"Is this enough, truly?" Magnus found himself asking, turning towards the massive reptilian that lay on the earth next to them both.
Even before they had arrived, Hohlraum had been a sparsely vegetated place. There were almost no trees, only scrabbled shrubbery, as if the very earth had long ago been drained of its vitality. Magnus could understand why now. A secret that should have remained buried forever, until the skaven had evidently decided that there was something worth digging in this formerly most barren of mountains in the range. No birds or squirrels or deer or otherwise had been present when they arrived, but that was in accordance with local legend as well. That the mountain was truly so bereft that even the animals stood clear of it, for one reason or another, and with scarce prey there had been scarce predators. But now with the Ix trying to escape, the greenery of the entire area was gone. It was one of the most devastating destructions of nature that would have had the Cult of Taal and Cult of Rhya in an immense furor if they had not been called out of their sanctums by Magnus – or more accurately his wife acting in his stead back in Wulfenburg – and made to accompany them.
Now though, the patch that Scaldrithraxa rested upon was blackening even further than the rest of the scorched earth.
"The fires…must burn…for a very long time," the dragon wheezed out at them, the magnificent glow of magic around the creature waxing weakly and waning greatly with each hard-fought breath. "The roots…dug…deep…before it ran…out of sustenance…and fell into hibernation…"
Some would have seen only opportunity for glory and renown in the visage of a Doomfire Dragon on its side and looking close to death. At the moment, however, the elites of the Army of the Range were protecting it, and had standing orders to cut down anyone not authorized trying to approach. Scouts and lighter infantry were ranging farther out, just in case anyone or anything tried to take a potshot at their incredibly valuable ally. For it had been none other than the dragon that had made the final venture. Time after time, as the smoke faded from the latest burn, and the fighting was done from the latest wave, it had been Scaldrithraxa that had poured oceans of Aqshy-driven propagating fire to continue the work. It had been Scaldrithraxa who's gullet spewed forth entire walls of fire to repulse the charging Ix abominations trying to reach the vulnerable lines of the Army of the Range. It had been Scaldrithraxa that had guided them to the caverns, to the entrance, and been responsible for temporarily sealing it with flame so that Magnus could form up his own forces. Temporarily, because now that it was being threatened in its actual bastion, the Ix had begun to display even more frightening and disturbing powers, wielding the Winds of Magic in a primal and inhuman manner that had nearly proven their doom again and again were it not for the Amber Wizards dispelling that which the fungal hivemind attempted to bring forth.
"Very well," Magnus nodded, glancing over to where a great many weapons and sets of armor from those on the front lines were also currently being carefully set aflame.
It was a difficult thing, and would likely be costly besides. The metals were much hardier, and though the fungal tendrils had shown capable of boring through rock itself, metal was often simply connected to with the sticky mucous-like substance between layers of fungus meat and actual flesh. Unfortunately, leather and linen were not so immune. Metal was only one part of a set of armor, the underlayers were also necessary to make use of it all correctly – the underlayers which were now one and all being carefully disposed of. But it was necessary. Extremely necessary. Magnus had only needed to see a man screaming once as white Ix tendrils started latching onto his throat after hollowing out the inside of his leather bandolier to acknowledge that point. It was a good thing that they had stopped the Ix here, of course, but would that the skaven had never been so foolish as to unleash it in the first place.
"I still don't know what those bloody rats thought they were doing," Alric groused, tugging at the bone and horn trinkets woven into his filthy beard.
"Is it not…obvious…?" Scaldrithraxa huffed a small laugh with a sickly crackle in her throat, the sound like a forge bellows breaking apart, "Could you not…tell…from the greatest…of its…stolen bodies…from them?"
Magnus grimaced, and continued to wipe at his face, hoping to at least clean most of the soot off before he returned to Wulfenburg.
"I recognized some, vaguely," he muttered. "Rat ogres. Some of their Hellpit abominations. The four legged ones, perhaps their wolf rats. Like in Karak Ungor, but with other presumably custom creations," he shuddered, "I recognized none of those towards the end. Plus the tools, some of those that the infested skaven had that were fused into their bodies with the Ix slime? Moulder," he slammed a fist into his palm as he declared it. "It was all Clan Moulder. Their monster makers," he glanced at the dragon, which slowly shifted its enormous head in something that might have been a nod.
The movement of which carved a deep canyon into the burnt and charred soil.
"They sought to take it for themselves," Alric spat on the ground. "Arrogant enough to think they could control it after they woke it up. I would guess, then, oh mighty dragon, that those strange broken tablets were there for a reason?"
The dragon's lips peeled back to bare its teeth in something that was both grimace and smile.
"I've never seen the like before," Magnus confessed. "Never. Not even in the depths of Karak Ungor," he added, giving a pointed and expectant look to the wizard.
Alric huffed in turn, but Magnus didn't care. He had accepted the promise of later explanations at the time, but later was now as far as he was concerned. Enough people had died, and enough who lived would have nightmares for the rest of their lives.
"I am not surprised, Prince Hohenzollern," Alric intoned gravely. "For those stones are not of the Old World, for the most part – nor are they a mastered subject of the dwarfs."
Magnus narrowed his eyes.
"I would have unvarnished truth, now, magister," he growled. "No more of these deflections, half-truths, and outright denials."
The Amber Wizard growled back, but his was backed by the echo of a wolf coming out of his throat.
"They were obsinite, Prince. A material I have only ever seen two samples of, originating from Lustria and the Southlands respectively. A trophy showed off by the Gold College," he snarled again and tossed his head, gnashing his teeth. "A material used in weapons and other items by the cold-blooded masters of those places."
It felt like the world had briefly turned to air around Magnus, leaving him flailing, as his mind tried and failed a few times to fully grasp the truths lingering now in the air.
"Like my brother Arthur's sword? But it looked nothing like-,"
"We know nothing about the manufacturing and working of obsinite," Alric interrupted. "Your brother's sword and these stone blocks are entirely different, despite their origin being the same material. It is not unexpected that the appearance would differ so much."
That was an understatement. Arthur's Night's Razor was glossy and thin, appearing to the untrained eye as obsidian or some kind of painted black steel. The blocks they had found, more than two feet in depth and ten in height before being broken, were opaque and dull without any shine. As if they were drawing in all light. Furthermore, they had been very well buried, at least originally, based on the searches they had done, with considerable work done or pure chance removing enough soil and clay and rock layers to reveal them.
"As near as I could tell from the considerable magic still clinging to those shattered stones, they were binding and blinding both. To conceal and imprison," Alric snorted. "And of course, those bloody skaven decided to break them. Of course, some of the block fragments we found were older, much older…,"
Scaldrithraxa shifted again, drawing the eye of both men and many more in the immediate area besides.
"Of course…they were. Did you not...see the gold…on some of them? Skaven…do not care for…gold, not even for decoration…," it wheezed out before falling limply to the side again, eyelids flickering as she fought for consciousness after nearly extinguishing her own life just to burn out the last of the Ix from existence.
In this case, it was Magnus who understood it faster than Alric, the latter having been so swept up by his studies and nature as an Amber Wizard that such matters had drifted ever further from his mind and considerations.
"We did this, then," Magnus muttered, pinching at his nose. "Or greenskins did. Or Chaos cultists, a greedy necromancer…,"
"What?" Alric tilted his head.
"The oldest broken tablets had no gold on them, Magister," Magnus sighed heavily, then swore loudly in a few different languages which shocked few of those around him before he angrily grabbed one of his flasks and drained it entirely of his Bugman's Best. "Greedy…blind…fools! Why tell anyone where you found the gold that just won you your fortune down in the rest of the lands of the Empire? You pried it free, it's yours, and who cares what the stone the gold was attached to was for?!" he shouted to the sky. "Greenskins would only care for the shiny worth, and enjoy breaking anything. Chaos brings ruin to any and all things, and rewards greed just as much. Necromancers, hedge wizards, or warlocks might well break it to steal magic for themselves, send servants to shatter them, and use the gold to fund their endeavors amongst the unknowing," he ranted, stomping back and forth before grabbing a second flask and draining it as well.
He spun around only then, seeing the comprehension on Alric's face.
"Who knows how long anyone has been chipping away at the defenses of this prison, for any number of reasons," Magnus shook his head in absolute disgust.
Whatever the greater motivation might have been, absolute wanton greed was what had led to the first steps of this entire thing.
"And once enough was chipped away at, damaged," Alric mused, just as much disgust on his face. "The skaven became aware, to some extent or another. And, being themselves, decided to interfere and investigate themselves."
"On…the bright side…I get a good amount of pristine gold…," Scaldrithraxa chuckled deeply, then blinked a single eye towards them as they stared at her. "What? I…deserve it…do I not?"
Despite his growing fury at what had been done to lead up to the Ix being released back out into the world from its containment, Magnus couldn't help but let out a bit of a laugh.
"I…doubt anyone but the most stupid would demand that you not be given a just reward for your aid, mighty dragon," he said, even though he could easily see his wife trying to momentarily strangle him to let the sheer amount of the glinting stuff on their broken obsinite slabs be taken by another.
"And…you might as well…take…the obsinite yourself…," she continued, making Alric sputter a bit. "Your province…a paltry reward…after the lives…lost…but a reward…nonetheless…,"
"Is that a problem, Magister?" Magnus glanced at Alric. "You said that there was magic clinging to them, but that they were largely inert now. Not surprising given that they were repeatedly purposefully broken…,"
The Amber Wizard opened his mouth, tilted his head to the side, and then shrugged so hard that the bones and other fetishes tied to his hide and bone clothing rattled.
"To me? No. To the Brotherhood? No. I'll bet the Gold College would want a look, for certain," he said gruffly. "Hells, try and sell it back to the Lizardmen for all I care."
Scaldrithraxa laughed weakly.
"We can decide what to do with it elsewhere. For now, we keep the fires burning," Magnus declared. "A detachment of the Army of the Range will remain here, as will most of your Brotherhood from Ostland, Magister," Magnus said, pausing until Alric simply nodded in comfortable assent. "I must return to Wulfenburg. We are beginning to get messages from around the Empire, now, mostly scattered reports, but there are beastmen being sighted in large numbers for the first time in many years. Even Count Stephan is being forced to return his forces to his province save for a small force remaining on the Ark, the same with Lady Dawnstone."
Something was happening out there, in the lands below the Middle Mountains.
Magnus could feel it, feel it in his bones.
Smoke was pouring into the sky above the Middle Mountains, and he was weary and exhausted besides.
But more work remained to be done, and until his father returned – his father would return – it was up to Magnus to hold Ostland together.
There was much left to do.
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