This story contains intense depictions of graphic violence and sexual content. You have been warned.

Of Atonement And Salvation: The End Times

An Introduction

Written By S. J. Kandil

The struggle for survival appeared unending through the bewildered eyes of Thavan Vanamar. It was times like these in which he pondered upon his situation, a very precarious one indeed. The Skaven Packmaster before him shrieked a cacophonous symphony of hatred and curses as the human crumpled to the ground.

"Do you want me to use the whip? Yes-Yes!"

Phlegm and blood exited his gaping maw as stained yellow teeth chittered and clattered together. The packmaster raised his studded glass infused whip and cracked it into the ground. Thavan rose. His deteriorating arms shambled upward meekly. It was for naught. Soon after, he fell, chained to the pedestal once more.

The belligerent Skaven screamed while his black beady eyes watched his captive with malice. The whip cracked backwards, then drove towards his bare back. It met its target as Thavan screamed. The studs dug into the skin and ripped outward releasing a crimson flurry of blood and body fluids pooling around his delirious figure. He laid there on that prison floor, chained to the ground, unable to escape his torment.

It was moments like these that drove his mind elsewhere, away from the never-ending pain. To another world that was just as ravenous as his reality.

# # # #

Thavan had everything he needed and more. The inevitable promotion to captain and a squad of his own would paint a path to greatness...or so he believed. In truth, it was nothing more than a portent of doom. A route of that which led to damnation. Damnation stamped upon the day of Thavan's promotion in the year 2515.

He stood in front of a mirror in his home within a small town in the northern province of Ostland. His town known as Stäntrhein straddled the southeastern corner of the province. All of these lands were under the jurisdiction of the Empire.

Thavan had just finished placing his wide black brimmed hat on top of his head. A very common item worn by the majority of witch hunters, if not all of them. He was also adorned in a black cloak made of fine linens but also inlaid with magical properties. Should he be shot or stabbed in the back, the cloak would protect the brunt of the attack.

His buckled tunic ensured his military trousers would remain upright and not baggy. Upon his tunic were 4 imperial purity seals. A wax seal with the markings of the twin tailed comet held the sacred pieces of parchment to his chest. They dangled down and either detailed passages or phrases from their holy books. Or shed light on his awards. Such as his many victories over the vampires of Sylvania. Thavan was a well known vampire hunter in these parts.

If one noticed, his trouser leggings were tucked away inside his kneecap high steel toed boots. They served two purposes; one was to ensure no dirty water or other unwanted fluids got into his boots. And also, to stymie the spread of disease. Less visible skin was a boon to him. A thin layer of chainmail underneath his tunic rounded out his uniform.

One rather bizarre quality of Thavan's outfit rested within the confines of his color. Most around him wore uniforms of varying shades of brown to gray. He on the other hand was wearing all black. A very unique look to one who follows The Cult of Sigmar. Perhaps the church within the town intended to drive even more fear into those that were guilty?

Thavan observed his facial features. His short black hair was nearly concealed over his top hat. A thick but trimmed black beard hung a few inches from his face. His gray oval shaped eyes appeared resolute as they scanned every detail upon his countenance.

He ran his gloved hands over his round cheeks. Observing ones body for any sign of chaos manifestation was tantamount to a life of safety. On each morning that passed without the slightest inkling of chaos corruption, Thavan bowed his head, clasped his hands together and praised his patron God Sigmar. This was a ritual he performed everyday. Only a few knew of his secret. He hoped it was something he would take with him to the grave.

His second chance was granted to him. It was something he would not squander. A life of service to The Empire of Man would be his ticket to atonement, and saving those from what he suffered is all that mattered to him.

When Thavan concluded his observation of himself, he placed a few repeater pistols along his bandolier and a couple stakes. He then placed his falchion inside its sheath and grabbed a few potions and medicinal supplies, stuffing them into his many pockets.

As he exited his house he glanced skyward. The heavens were gloomy as dark gray and black clouds circled along the horizon. A storm is coming.

Along the cobblestone road Thavan walked. Every morning Thavan appreciated his stroll through the streets of Stäntrhein. The journey was always so calm and peaceful. It was a small city within the confines of the Empire. This was the place he called home. And it was his duty to protect those who lived within these walls.

It was still far to early in the morning for most of the inhabitants of the town. That fact held weight as Thavan witnessed only a carriage or two moving along the main road that the majority of the populace used in their daily lives. All was tranquil at this time of hour.

As Thavan approached the center of town he neared The Grand Cathedral of Sigmar. Its majestic Gothic spires rose onward several hundred feet into the sky. Beneath the spires at the front of the structure was a massive ornately detailed stained glass window depicting the twin tailed comet. Supporting this titanic building that dwarfed everything around it were flying buttresses jutting out like arms holding up the foundation to our salvation.

Leading up the stairwell were two massive twenty foot tall doors made of lacquered cherry wood. They stood open as a few patrolmen walked out of the cathedral. They passed on by Thavan, avoiding eye contact.

As Thavan entered the cathedral he paused to admire the interior. Row upon row of pews lined the church leading down to the altar. Above the altar carved into the building was the circular apse. A detailed painting of Sigmar standing proud over a battlefield was etched into the apse. Below that were the windows around the apse shining light into the interior. Along either side of the interior were large hand made iron crosses with skulls detailed on their centers hanging on the walls. The attention to detail was evident on each little cut and engraving. It was immaculate.

A handful of church clergy were preparing for the morning ceremony. Witch hunters and soldiers moved in between the pews, heading toward their destinations. All were filled with purpose as they worked methodically for a future untouched by chaos.

Thavan lollygagged long enough. He pressed on to the far right corner of the building. There was a set of double doors in this walled off section. It was rather dull. Nothing was out of the ordinary. As Thavan entered, the bell at the top of the door rung. Turning to greet him was a familiar face.

Seated within a chair with papers in his hand was Thavan's ex teacher and mentor Darrik Goddenine. "Well look who it is, Thavan Vanamar. Or should I say Captain Vanamar?" Goddenine took a sip of coffee from his mug and placed a filed row of papers upon his desk.

"Now now." Said Thavan with raised hands in a defensive posture. "It would be wise to refrain from saying that to certain individuals. Or, perhaps everyone you see."

"Why not?" Countered Darrik. His eyes stared like piercing rays of light through Thavan.

"Because, were it not for you I would have never survived long enough to become anything. Your teachings were the basis upon which I learned everything. And through all that, many have grown to despise my accomplishments. Some would see fit that I were eliminated from the equation."

"Indeed." Said Goddenine grimly. "But it was you who executed each mission flawlessly. That is more than I can say about some of these men employed under us. And as for what you stated, I dare one of these fools to ever lay a finger on you. They may speak of ill things behind closed doors but they are cowards. They would never do something to jeopardize those who follow this holy order."

Thavan ignored his words. "One can never be to certain. There are those within this empire who wish to see me fall. The promotion to captain only seals that deal. And should they see any opportunity for me to have an 'accident,' well, you know the rest."

Goddenine put his papers within the desk and took another swig of the near boiling fluids. "Are you so filled with fear that you are letting it get the best of you? These worms should not concern you. Whether they conspire or not. Those within the empire know where your allegiance lies."

Thavan acknowledged him and thanked the man. They both shook hands as Goddenine stood. Darrik Goddenine was a tall man, standing roughly six feet and four inches. He towered over most before him. He had medium length graying hair combed over along the side. A growing bald spot rested near the top. His features were lined with a multitude of scars and wrinkles. Spending countless years as a witch hunter ensured his life was filled with strife.

Were it not for the injury he sustained several years ago he would not be working in this church. He preferred being out in the field. There was a severe gimp to his right foot with each step he took. He would surely be more of a hindrance to his men than an aid. A fact he grimly accepted.

Goddenine yawned. "Now then, let's get down to business. Here is your key to the lock box. Due to the secretive nature of this assignment and the lack of info granted to me when they dispensed the contracts, it is presumed that whatever you are about to embark on is classified information on a need to know basis. Whatever you are granted, I would be leery of who I share that paperwork too."

Thavan felt a lump in his throat as he watched the key dangle from Goddenine's hand. From the chain it moved rhythmically back and forth. He gripped it as they both nodded to one another.

Thavan left the office behind and entered the following room. Hundreds of steel lock-boxes lined the hall down multiple isles. His key was engraved with the twin comet and the number 214 etched into its base.

He walked down the usual route he took toward the lock box each morning. Today felt different though. Darrik Goddenine's words did not ease him. Upon finding 214 he glanced around the hall as his heart started racing. Nobody was within sight of him. It was all so eerily quiet.

What is going on with me? He pondered. Why the sudden fear? Was it because I knew this would be my first mission commanding others? Fear was an annoying nuisance that he would put to bed now.

As the key slid into the lock he turned it halfway. The tumblers fell into place as they clicked. He turned the small handle and opened the box. Sitting inside was a lone letter sealed by a wax stamp depicting an iron cross with crossed hammers and a skull in between both.

Thavan pulled the letter from the box and extracted a short blade from its sheath upon his chest. He cut the seal in one slice and sheathed his weapon. He retrieved the letter and began diligently reading the contents within.

Dear Vanamar

We regret to inform you that your first mission as Witch Hunter Captain will not be within the confines of Stäntrhein. What we are about to disclose to you is for your eyes only. We cannot begin to stress to you how important this is.

North of this city lies a mining town called Tovven. You may have heard of it. We have been hearing strange reports coming from this town as of late. There are claims that humans have gone missing within these mines. Those who have been found were no longer recognizable. They were nothing more than chewed apart scraps of bone with drippings of sinew and muscle. Some of the individuals within the town claim it is the rat-men.

Do you understand how dangerous this is? If our soldiers cannot protect our people within our own borders, then what use are we? The council leaders of Tovven will be dealt with accordingly. But that matter is for another time.

This is where you come in Thavan. It is your duty as a witch hunter to dispel such heresy. Rat men? Preposterous. They are mad if that is what they believe. There is no such thing as that. So, glean whatever information you may from the inhabitants of that town, then find whatever is harming them and remove its presence. You may use whatever means are necessary to cleanse that mine.

You will be accompanied by two other witch hunter captains along with their squadrons of troops. If you did not see before then perhaps now you realize the importance of this matter?

We leave it to you

The Inner Circle

Thavan appeared visually shocked as he read over its contents. His hands were coated with sweat. The flesh upon his face paled. The rapid beat of his heart only heightened the sensation he was feeling.

The Inner Circle were the leaders of this church he currently resided within. He didn't need them to express the importance of this mission. They oversaw everything that pertained to this city. Whatever was going on within Tovven was bad news for everyone.

The Inner Circle placed great importance over what lingered within those caverns below. The fact that two other captains would accompany him, only strengthened his beliefs.

As Thavan returned to Goddenine's room, his friendly demeanor instantly extinguished the moment he laid eyes upon Thavan. "Di...did something happen Vanamar?"

Thavan tried to regain his composure as he took in a deep breath within his lungs. "All is well. I just have a matter I must attend to before I depart. I'll see you later Darrik."

Leaving him no chance to reply, Darrik watched Thavan leave the room at a brisk pace. That was unlike him.

# # # #

Thavan eyed his repeater pistol, observing its rather immaculate detail. From the silver encrusted trigger and guard, to the hand-carved seal of the Cult of Sigmar emblem emblazoned upon its side. Everything was crafted with precision and concern. The black shiny finish glistened in the daylight sun. All was taken into account with the creation of this fine weapon.

Thavan was driven from his thoughts as another witch hunter captain gripped his shoulder, then pointed beyond. The mine was within their view. Nobody stood in its vicinity. A handful of hastily erected signs were placed strategically around the mine. All had the words 'closed until further notice' scrawled on them.

Thavan placed his firearm through his holster. He signaled his men to continue onward. They moved along the grassy ground until it gave way to dirt and mud. Then that too surrendered to rocks and stone. It all seemed so eerily peaceful walking out here with the stars warm rays touching the back of Thavan's neck.

But as his mind journeyed toward the interrogations yesterday, shortly after they entered the town, his mind was filled with wonder. Every individual he questioned who had delved into the mine was stricken with an intense fear so great that he was bewildered by their actions and features. Their faces were genuinely terrified. All one needed to do was stare through their manic filled eyes to see what was going on. It was like a mirror, reflecting all the horror back at him.

These same results applied to his fellow captains interrogations. They insinuated and joked of heresy. That perhaps the peasants were losing their minds? But Thavan knew better than to humor them as he tasted rising bile in the back of his throat. Something didn't sit with him through all of this. The more and more he tried to part the veil of suspicion, he was left with more questions than answers. Superstition and fear were dangerous. It left him open to outside forces. But he also thought it would be wise to hearken the warnings of those peasants. For what they saw changed their lives forevermore.

As Thavan descended into the mouth of the cave, he knew there was no turning back. Daylight retreated as they passed into the darkness. The cave gradually went lower at a relatively slow pace. Some mining equipment was left where it stood, or the occasional pickax thrown by the wayside. Other than these few oddities and the sound of water dripping from above, it was rather normal but awfully quiet.

This continued for a few hours until the pathway became far more treacherous. It wound down into spiraling walkways carved through the earth. A few of the soldiers even tripped and slid, nearly causing a massive pileup that would surely end in somebodies death. Everybody were utilizing torches or lanterns now. This was the only means of illumination.

The cavernous maze of walls and stairwells were even more hazardous as time went on. It is like those who dug this were losing their minds the further in they went. Thavan was disturbed by this thought as he brushed it aside. It took them the better part of the day to finally reach the bottom. Thavan's face was coated in perspiration. His men were exhausted as they removed their helmets and sat to gather their strength.

One of Thavan's fellow captains strode toward him. A fowl scowl made it clear what was to be said. Hadran scoffed, "What is it with these soldiers? They think simply because we have found level ground they can rest?"

Thavan was prepared for this. "They are also wearing double the amount of armor compared to us. Give them a break. Have you seen your men recently?"

Hadran turned to see what he meant. Sure enough, his men were seated with Thavan's, enjoying a much needed rest.

"I know we are both new to this game, but they will follow. You and I have a lifetime of service to prove them that much." Thavan said through gritted teeth.

Hadran ruminated over his words. "Well, when you put it like that, I can't argue. I'll stand watch with Matthias. What are you going to do?"

Thavan cocked his head to the side and looked beyond their line of sight into the vast blackness. "I thought I heard something. It sounded of running water. We can fill our canteens if that's the case. Cold fresh water would be a nice treat for everyone. Don't worry yourself. I won't wander off too far."

Hadran nodded as he retrieved his own canteen and took a swig. "Are you sure you're fine on your own? By Sigmar it is rather ominous down here. Going alone doesn't sound safe."

Thavan turned to him and grinned mischievously. "Do I sense fear, Hadran?"

Hadran gripped his rapier and pressed it further within its sheath. It jingled against his armor and firearms. "Now hold it right there Vanamar. I have read that very same letter that you read as well. You must at the very least acknowledge something is ill with this whole situation. The rat men are a myth, nothing more. But if this is chaos, or beastmen, then we need more soldiers."

Thavan popped his knuckles. "Even I am weary of what may be lurking down here. The deeper we traversed this mine the tunnels were becoming increasingly hostile. And, to be honest, rather bizarre. Still, we cannot leave empty handed. Once we find proof we can make a decision from there. I will return shortly. Be mindful brother."

Thavan departed with his pistol in one hand and a torch in another. Hadran returned to the men. No matter what Thavan said, he could not simply sit by and think this was a simple procedure.

There was a faint odor in the air, one in which Thavan sniffed almost immediately. He couldn't make heads or tails of what it was though as he walked away from his men.

The fire burning from the torch brightened all around him. All he saw were rocks and the occasional chunk of ore. As he drifted even further from the group, the sound of running water grew louder and louder until he happened upon a stream. The water moved at a brisk pace as it rippled along the pebbles sticking above the water line. It looked so fresh and rejuvenating. Thavan's room temperature water in his pouch would not be able to compare to this.

Thavan smiled as he pulled his near empty flask of water from his pouch on his side. He got down on his knees and placed the flask in the stream. It was filled to the brim as he pulled it from the source. When the cool, invigorating fluids touched his dry lips, the sensation was a welcome reprieve. He swallowed the life-giving liquid and felt at peace.

A couple seconds passed by when Thavan noticed a strange sound further down the stream. It did not sound like the distinct tune of flowing water. To his ears it had a metallic ring. It was oft putting. Perhaps some of the mining equipment had fallen into the stream? Or something was lodged into the rock?

As Thavan walked further down the stream, his feet crunched rocks with each step. The bright light of fire lit everything in front of him. A cool breeze blew across the nape of his neck. Down here away from the rays of the sun, the weather was cool year round.

Once he got to the end, Thavan took another sip of that delicious water. When his eyes grazed across the scenery before him, he stopped dead in his tracks, spitting the fluids onto the rocky ground.

"Hadran, get over here now!" His scream was one filled of horror as the torch shone like a beacon, revealing the grisly scene for all. The echo of his voice reverberated through the cavern. Within moments everyone was running to his aid.

In front of Thavan Vanamar was a macabre scene of inhuman proportions. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this unholy nightmarish union of undeath. Piled up along the stream in the form of a makeshift damn were an innumerable amount of bones and half eaten bloated corpses. The stench of decay became far more prevalent as he neared the horrific scene. Some of the bodies were lined along the shore. The holes in their armor were filled with maggots slithering inside a bounty of bluish tinged putrid flesh.

Thavan appeared visually nauseated as he saw the stream led further into a pit filled with pieces of flesh, blood, and bone in a small underground lake. There had to be hundreds filled within that watery grave. Some of their bones were gnawed clean. Others still had the muscle tissue sloughing from split open rib-cages. Particulates of their bodies and fluids mingled with the water.

"I was dead wrong on my assumption. This is the work of something far worse than I could have ever imagined." Thavan said through breathless lips.

Thavan dumped the contents of water as the other soldiers and Hadran followed in tow. "What is the matter Vanamar?" Yelled Hadran.

The man was visibly gasping for air as he neared him. His forehead shimmered with sweat as he bent over and breathed deeply for air in his lungs. The other men stopped and watched on in horror at the spectacle before them. Even Hadran silenced as he took wind of what was happening.

The other captain known as Matthias Burcken, a seasoned veteran in the arena of death, stood stoically and looked on. He had seen his share of nightmares in the world. The sight before him was no different than a casual conversation. He had sanctioned countless number of executions and witch hunts throughout his days. All ended in a great conflagration of flame.

Matthias had seen many 'loved ones' killed or eaten by monsters that roam their planet. To his eyes these witch hunter captains were grunts compared to what he had seen. His hands and world for that matter were stained in blood. This was but another obstacle in the game of life.

"We serve no purpose whining about the dead. By Sigmar's grace we will find this heretical group of animals and slaughter them to the last one. This is how we honor the fallen. Get moving, come on. We have a job to do." Matthias' voice was gruff and entirely devoid of compassion. His focus was the mission at hand and nothing else.

The men stood in formation. Behind their eyes there was a looming fear just below the surface. Thavan rallied his men to press onward. What were they getting into he pondered?

The men followed Thavan and the other captains until they arrived at a massive wall of rock. At this point of their journey it dead ended. There was no other pathway forward. Everyone was silent. They merely watched.

Thavan was unperturbed by this new predicament. He felt there was something not quite right about this gargantuan wall of rock. It was uncanny. Was he the only one picking up on this?

Some voiced their opinions of doubling back and trying an alternate route, but Thavan knew better. He was sensing a source that was amiss. He would take advantage of the situation if the option presented itself.

For several minutes they walked around the rock wall until Thavan blurted, "It's not real!"

Everyone turned to him. All looking at the man as if he were insane. "Explain." Said Matthias.

"This is an illusion. It is meant to trick us. If you believe it is real then it will surely be real. I am about to prove it wrong. I can sense the magic flowing in this area. It was what I picked up on. Watch."

Thavan charged forward, running in a beeline right for the wall. If his calculations were correct, the wall would scatter. But if they were wrong... Well, he would wake up with one of the worst concussions in his life.

Thavan passed the threshold of no return. He pressed on. His faith by his side. He launched himself right into the rock. At the moment of impact the rock wall gave way. Its formation altered and rippled, like gelatin. Once Thavan passed through, the entire wall pulsed and reacted unnaturally. This carried on for several seconds until it shattered like glass and dispersed from reality.

Several hundred feet of rock disappeared instantaneously. What lurked on the other side was not what anybody expected. Thavan stood in the middle of this new revelation. Roughly 200 or more feet beyond him were a set of two gargantuan doors carved into the rock. Even as Thavan looked upward, the light source only glowed for so far until there was nothing but blackness.

The other men walked to Thavan. Some of their faces seemed disturbed by what he understood. Had the rumors been true? Others like Matthias, were hiding behind a stonewall of nothingness. It was nigh impossible to read someone like him.

For a handful of tense minutes nobody said a word. Perhaps it was fear, or maybe apprehension? The answer was uncertain. Thavan broke the silence. "Do you see the architecture of those walls? That design is not of dwarfen artificers. Can anybody tell me what we are looking at?"

Nothing but silence came from the surrounding soldiers. Thavan's question fell on deaf ears.

Matthias walked past Thavan and made his commandment known. "Open these doors. We will find the answer we seek now."

Thavan felt dead weight hold him back. His stomach was constricting against him as he approached the man. "Look, Matthias this is not something we should take lightly. A magical barrier and walls crafted from an unknown race is not a good sign. Behind those walls we may encounter legions of enemies in this cavern. Our job is to protect these townspeople. But how will we do that if we wind up dead? It is in our best interest to report back to the city and wait for more orders."

Matthias turned to Thavan, eyeing him. "What outfit are you wearing?"

Thavan appeared visually puzzled by his question. "I don't follow."

"What does that uniform embody, Vanamar?" His voice was filled with agitation.

"It is a witch hunters uniform. I do not see the correlation to what you are getting at."

"Exactly." He said. "Why don't you start wearing it with pride for once in your pathetic life? You sound like those cowardly peasants. We have a job to do. I will finish it with or without you."

He walked past Thavan but not without ramming his shoulder into the man. He muttered under his breath, "Some witch hunter you are. Who the hell do they recruit now a days? Especially someone like you?"

"What was that?" Said Thavan as he holstered his pistol and clenched his fist. "If you have a problem with me and or my rank, then why don't you speak loud and clear for all to hear?"

All of the men remained silent as they watched this scene unfold.

"Are you raising your tone of voice with me? The others may acknowledge you as their ally, but all I see before me is a heretic fit for burning."

Thavan walked toward him until they were face to face. "I have given my life, no, my very soul to the Church of Sigmar. Every single breath that exhaled through my lungs was for this church. You only know what you choose to discern. The whole picture is there for anyone to see. But you've decided to live in fear. I would gladly die for Sigmar. I know where my loyalty lies."

Matthias nodded then looked directly into Thavan's eyes. "Good! Soon I will be rid of your presence permanently!"

Thavan gripped the man by his throat. He choked for air. He was just about to wind up for a punch, but fate had something else in store.

Both men stopped short of bloodshed as their eyes were forced to look upon the gates. They were groaning to life as heavy layers of dust fell from above. The mechanism working the gates screeched violently as the doors were slowly but surely forced open. Whatever lurked behind there had heard their argument.

Suddenly, a new noise assaulted their eardrums. The deep thrumming tone of a massive bell sounded high above the gates. As the doors parted further, Thavan gripped his head. The ringing sound pierced his skull, sending a mind numbing headache through his brain. The deep, resonating tune echoed like a gong each time the bell struck.

Thavan looked skyward and saw the titanic bell perched atop a tower several hundred meters above them. A tall individual clad in grey robes stood with one hand on a staff while the other held a rope. With each pull the bell rung louder.

Horns protruded from the top of its furry head in spiral patterns. Its eyes glowed a menacing putrid green. It was staring directly at Thavan. Its orbs were filled with malice and hatred for the human filth.

Surrounding the tower were massive bowls immolated in green flame, lighting the bell and that inhuman thing with its sickly hue. They crackled against a backdrop of blackness.

When the gates were completely open is when Thavan caught wind of its minions below. Hundreds, no thousands of glowing black and red eyes illuminated the darkness. They stood in formation. Waiting for the order to strike.

Upon the thirteenth toll of the bell is when the hooded one stopped. Bright green lights brightened the darkness before them, revealing the true sight of the horrors that awaited them.

A verminous horde of rats appeared. They stood upright just like their human counterparts. They were armed with weapons and shields. The creatures were stricken with a multitude of plagues and diseases. Some visible, others buried beneath the skin. Some of the rat men scratched at patches of fur covered with flees. While others dug at blood-boils atop scabbed crusty skin. Beneath the boils swam parasitical creatures of unknown origins.

The horned one screeched a horrific wail. Its gaping maw spat saliva as it roared to its followers. This sent its minions into a frenzy for human flesh. Even as Thavan pulled his firearm from its holster and rallied his men to his side, he knew this is where he would die.

The first round he fired belched smoke and powder as the explosion erupted and launched a ball of lead into the shoulder blade of his first target. The round fractured its bone and blew out the back of his opponent. Its right arm hung by strands of flesh as the skaven collapsed from blood loss and shock. The others trampled over their brother, crushing him beneath the feet of hundreds of bloodthirsty predators.

The second target got off easier than the first one. The following bullet flew through the top of his muzzle, breaking teeth and ripping through gums until it tore out through the back of his head. The troops behind him were showered in blood and gore. The body twitched and withered in grotesque positions as it fell to the ground below. Its hairless tail beat violently against the rocky earth until it suddenly halted. The stilled corpse dumped pints of crimson fluid onto the battlefield.

"Hold!" Bellowed Thavan as his men panicked. The sight of the encroaching horde was enough to scare anyone. They readied their halberds and swords, obeying his command.

Thavan fired every round from his auto musket until it clicked. He had no spare rounds to load. The weapon was now a needless encumbrance. He threw the firearm with extra force. The weapon hit the closest Skaven, breaking its jaw upon impact. Thavan unholstered two more pistols while his fellow witch hunters dropped scores of vermin until all of them were running out of ammunition.

There was no time to load more balls and black powder. As the nearest skaven was only a few meters from Thavan, the fight was about to get close.

The ratman screamed as he scampered forth and locked blades with Thavan. Their eyes stared into one another while saliva ran down its muzzle. Thavan screamed right back at him with bloodshot eyes. More blades clinked and clattered together as every man at the front of the line was drawn into mortal combat.

Thavan drew his foot back and kicked with all his might into his adversaries kneecap. That in turn severed the link between their blades and allowed him a counterattack. His hand forced the blade upward. With one flick of the wrist it slashed across the lining of his neck. Its dead eyes stared blankly as its head flung backwards. The sudden force tore the flesh from its head. The decapitated limb fell from its body as it lay crushed beneath the corpse.

The next one behind him was smaller and stunted in size, wearing nothing but tattered rags covering his genitals. It was armed with a very rusty sword, one that should have been put to rest ages ago. Thavan sidestepped his pitiful attempt at attacking and impaled the rat bastard upon his sword. With his left foot he braced it against the dying skaven's body and kicked off. He freed his sword as the corpse fell backward into the rising pile of bodies.

Thavan breathed deeply, sucking in large quantities of much needed oxygen. A moment of respite was granted to him as he wiped sweat from his brow. He'd been fighting for nearly an hour. The enemy forces showed no sign of relent. Exhaustion plagued his tiring figure.

But this moment would come to bite him. A spear man leaped over the mound and drove his weapon into Thavan's shoulder. The pointed end pushed several inches into his flesh. Blood oozed from the wound while Thavan growled between gritted teeth.

From Thavan's rear holster he retrieved a small single shot musket, took aim and fired, hitting the skaven spear man squarely in the throat. The grip on his weapon faded as he fell down the mound and landed on his back.

Thavan gripped the spear and tugged hard, removing the blade from his shoulder. He grunted from the pain but maintained his composure while a battle-medic rushed to his aid. He dropped the weapon and turned his attention to his enemy.

The skaven choked and gurgled on blood-filled lungs. It thrashed about until it saw Thavan walk toward it. Its eyes filled with fear as he watched it with no empathy. There was nothing behind his features but hatred. He placed his boot over its throat. It clawed at his foot as he applied increasing levels of pressure. Within a matter of moments its thrashing stopped as his advances ended with the crackling of vertebrae. Its windpipe was crushed. The skaven's arms fell back and hung loosely around the growing pool of blood from its throat. Another one was dead.

Thavan's ally applied a salve to the wound, to stymie the flow of crimson. Just as he finished his application, another skaven made its assault over the mound. It cleaved his head off with one swipe. A copious amount of blood burst from the orifice, covering Thavan's face in the hot fluids. He was blind. Thavan tried to move backwards but his senses were numbed.

His men came to his aid, covering him and pulling him to the rear. One of the soldiers wiped Thavan's face, clearing his field of vision.

Standing in front of him was Hadran, covered in rat blood and shredded armor."We must sound the retreat Thavan, before it is too late!"

Thavan shrugged. "Can't you see? It's already too late. They're faster than us and outnumber us. Our men are battered, exhausted, and wounded. This is our grave. Stand and fight until..."

Thavan was drawn from his sentence as he noticed a loud humming sound coming from behind the corpses. In an instant they rose and launched into his fellow soldiers, crushing and killing many in its magical wake. Standing in the middle of the opening were two individuals. The horned one in grey robes, wielding a staff of deadly magic and his second in command. He was a burly warlord. His pitch black fur was cleaner than the front-line troops. He was adorned with black platemail and a large serrated sword and shield. His armor glistened with sparkling detail. He was unlike the others Thavan had fought.

With the barrier now destroyed, scores of rats descended upon them. Those who fell had their eyes plucked from their screaming faces. The rats gorged on them. The balls popped like exploding cherries sending eye jelly running down their muzzles. Others had their guts split open. The rats ate their intestines like noodles. The sight of those pinkish colored organs slithering out from their chests while the whimpering wails of his comrades droned on sent him over the edge. The agony haunted him. He needed it to stop.

He was encircled, forced to watch as Hadran and Matthias were cut down. He saw the horror in Hadran's face as they slit his throat and devoured his writhing body. Thavan screamed in a blood-crazed rage and fought on till he was the last one standing.

On all sides they watched him, laughing and snickering at his bleeding figure. The press for the final kill never came. Seconds turned into minutes while Thavan watched for the waiting embrace of death.

The horned one and the warlord appeared from the countless number of Skaven. A crooked smile poked from his bloodstained teeth. The horned one nodded to the black furred one. He approached Thavan with his weapon sheathed.

Thavan swung his sword in vengeance for his allies. The warlord scoffed and caught his wrist in mid swing, breaking it with his steely grasp. Thavan groaned and fell to his knees while the horned rat approached.

"Foolish man-things. You are a determined lot I will give you that. It is such a shame-waste that your kind are such a nuisance to kill. After all, you do make delicious meals." Said the horned one as it grinned maliciously.

"Yes." growled the warlord as he licked his muzzle coated in blood. "They make fine meals. Better than those fat dwarfs."

The horned one grinned darkly into Thavan's eyes. "Be thankful man-thing. You have been blessed by the sight of the Followers of The Great Horned Rat. It will be the last thing you will ever see."

He nodded to the warlord. The skaven retrieved his sword from its scabbard. He readied to skewer Thavan. Just as he started to impale the man is when something so bizarre happened it shocked the skaven and forced him to pause.

Thavan began twitching and contorting. He clenched his fist so tightly that blood ran down his fingertips. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as his voice grumbled with this darkening resonance. He twitched and flailed on his knees. This in turn forced the horned one to stare in awe. He raised his hand to stop his warlord from finishing the deed.

The veins in Vanamar's neck blackened all the way to his cheeks. It appeared that something had poisoned him from within. Some of those in attendance watched with fear. They sensed something far worse than what their leaders felt.

The moment Thavan's fate was about to be sealed is when his eyes emerged from their prison. The natural gray color of his orbs existed no more. Staring back into the second in commands face were onyx black gems for eyes. Their entirely unnatural color was sickening to look at. Even the skaven were taken back by their sight. The muscles in Thavan's neck clenched tightly. He wretched and gagged, forcing something upward.

The warlord had seen enough. He prepared to end this bizarre charade. He raised his sword, ready to strike down this madman's life once and for all. His hesitation was his undoing. A thick reddish fluid with black specks expelled from the humans retching maw. The fluids struck the left side of the skavens face.

He instantly exhaled a violent scream as the liquids singed fur, and melted the side of his helmet. His left eye bubbled and discharged fluids as it oozed from his skull. He thrashed at his face, shrieking a high pitched wail of unholy agony as his flesh began sloughing away. The liquids ate through skin and muscle, ripping down to the bone.

All the while Thavan remained silent, merely watching his assailant die a grisly death while smiling eerily. His face was so strange that it almost felt uncanny, or inhuman, warped into this unnatural smile that left everyone watching him feel a cold chill trace down their spines.

Even the fingers that touched the fluid were devoured, eaten away until the pearly white color of bone appeared. Those too broke off and crumbled to the ground. The skaven fell backward onto the earth. It wheezed one final gasp for air and died right there on the spot.

The reddish fluid chewed through until it hit the cranial cavity, devouring part of its brain. As the reddish fluid dissolved, the blockade it was forming gave way. A stew-like mass of brain matter poured from the side of his skull, like congealed fat liquefying on a steak. Its tongue hung from its open mouth as its dead face twitched one final time and stilled in its macabre exit from this world.

The horned one laughed hideously and began rapidly kicking his dead allies corpse. "Fool! You lost to an unarmed trickster. It is a good thing you died. I quite enjoy weeding out the weak."

He regarded Thavan, noticing his eyes had turned back to their natural gray. Then, his mind focused elsewhere. "Skabby! Skabby, where are you my boy?"

Out from the horde appeared a skaven equipped with better clothing than the rest of slaves and clanrats. He spoke meekly and in reverence to his master, "I...I'm right here milord."

The master grinned. "Strip this fool of his armor. He wasn't worth it in the slightest. Perhaps you will be?"

The horned one walked to Thavan and gripped him by the throat. "And as for you, you will live to see another day. What an honor it will be for you to see our grand Under-Empire. Although, by the time we are finished with you, you may regret ever casting that spell. Take him to the pits. This is where your new life begins my pet."

After nearly a year and a half of silence I have returned. Some of you may be shocked by my choice of story, since this is not the sequel to It Followed Me Home. I think I owe it to many of you as to why I chose this.

First and foremost, I have been playing an unhealthy amount of Total War Warhammer 2 and Vermintide 2 over the past year. I fell in love with the Warhammer world and then my brother suggested I write a story within the world. I agreed. And for the past 4 months I have been working diligently toward this. I have peeled over the Wikipedia pages to understand more of the common things within the Warhammer world. But understand that I am not a master of this topic. I have created this story as a love letter to my adoration of Warhammer. If something appears wrong or falls out of lore, feel free to message me directly and tell me. Any lore that I may have missed but is offered by one of my readers is a boon. I will say this as a word of caution though; this story will not follow the canon of The End Times. Nothing more will be said on this topic.

I have decided that any stories I write from now on will be a monster girl (Be it vampire, yautja, lamia, skaven, etc.) and male human romances. This is the style that most intrigues me concerning fanfics.

So what about It Followed Me Home? Believe me when I say I am most interested in going back to that world someday. I have even sat down and started jotting some story ideas for it. Will it come to pass? I hope so. Perhaps sooner than later ;)

Welcome back my readers. I look forward to hearing all of your reviews and comments. This has been one hell of a journey. We have a lot to discuss in the coming days. Thanks, and have a pleasant day or night.