Beyond the Light
Entry posted by Kako
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_ Cleophus…
His name sounded like thunder, but hushed and deep like a distant rumble of an incoming storm over the horizon. As his consciousness sought any kind of coherence, he remembered pain. Excruciating pain. Razor-edged metal coming down like a violent storm, each drop like a blade lacerating his flesh to the bones. And from each wound, rays of light found their way out, so many that even Gods would have to steer their eyes from.
He remembered the light spreading out across realities in all directions, crossing dimensions and ethereal gateways, traveling far beyond reason and understanding. One could only imagine how vast eternity could be, but in an instant he felt every corner of this unfathomable place as he could touch them all with the tip of his fingers. He sensed only Aether around him. Nothing seemed to describe where he was, yet nothing described it so well. And for this was a place where time was no longer, he couldn't tell if it all happened in a split of a second or if it took eons to begin.
This new place offered an endlessness of possibilities. He only had to choose and fate would be manifested. But one stood out from all as inevitable. He remembered no resistance while being drawn from the stasis he was in. And like a river that becomes a waterfall, all energy spread out in this expanse slowly converged and fell through a dark chasm on reality.
He could feel this energy force intertwining with his own and remembered experiencing lifetimes of different emotions, as if hundreds of thousands shared time and space with him. But as much diverse these feelings felt, they were taken over by the same dreadful and agonizing sensation as they were all drained into nothingness.
_ Cleophus…
This time he heard his name as a striking sound waved through silence, making every suspended particle oscillate. This inviting pulse echoed from the opposite side of oblivion, shaking the core of the expanse and everything in it. He hesitated for a new possibility presented itself, bringing with it a proposal of glorious life and honorable fate. Each pulse that followed reminded him of embedded atributes that once made him whole. Devotion. Duty. Sacrifice. He ceased moving. All of a sudden, a booming pulse, stronger than any other before, dissipated all doubt that remained as he finally joined the others following the rhythm of this holy parade.
As they marched across the Aether, he felt a sudden pull preventing him to continue. The river must run its course. Whatever was the force that came from that void, it was resolute to not let anyone escape. He could sense others trying to resist, but many surrendered and were shredded into pieces. As he felt his essence beginning to shatter, he remembered words, sacred words. He dared to whisper one and immediately the brightest light flashed all around him. The pull ceased for a brief moment while the divine rhythm intensified as he recited word after word, thunder and lightning keeping them all safe as they moved again towards salvation.
Eternity gave way to urgency as the chasm turned into a colossal vortex giving a new boost to that ominous force, dragging inside not only the vital energy but the expanse itself. All reality was now crumbling and large pieces of this dreamlike landscape were sucked into oblivion. The pulse then hastened as if it was possible to avert this catastrophe In the middle of this chaos he felt twisted, distorted. Nevertheless he kept chanting along with the divine drumming, trying to help the only thing he could recognize inside this madness.
But then, darkness overwhelmed it all.
His voice gave up as the last word came out as a gasp. Then his mind surrendered to unwilling thoughts - "Who am I to deny nature? Everything must pass. Life is brief and Death… Death is certain". But as his spirit was about to do the same, a final clang stroke him so hard that it became impossible for him not to yield to the will of the true God-King…
_ SIGMAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!! FORGIVE MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!
He woke up in a somber room. Four monolithic columns were spread out in front of a massive closed door. Their capitals adorned with dragons fighting monsters on landscapes of ages untold. Their dark blue marbles were covered by thin golden veins in a wavelike pattern that reflected Sigendil's light that was coming in from a partially opened window next to the bed. It had handles in form of hammers and frames embellished with celestial motifs. aHe felt the cold breeze coming from it as it touched his skin and noticed he was not wearing his armor nor his Mortis Helm. It was an awkward feeling not wearing it, for these many years his helm became part of him and what he represented. He then felt uncomfortable, like he didn't belong, and despite the luxury of the room and comfort of the bed, all he desired was to return to the mountains.
A knock on the door and his name was called again. "Come in", said the priest.
“Cleophus. Glad to see you again, my friend". He knew this voice. It was earnest and severe as one of the most disciplinarian Lord-Castellants should be in these dark days. But it was also serene in a way that could turn foes into friends and calm the most enraged of the hearts. "Titus. Where are we? What happened?", asked Cleophus.
"We are back in Azyrheim", said Lord Titus, "And you were… reforged."
The word struck Cleophus like the sharpest blade. He took a deep breath and reached his mind for memories, anything lost would be a sign that part of his soul was missing. "I can't remember what happened! Titus, I can't…"
"Calm down. It'll come to you. Pray for Sigmar all-mighty, for he'll protect and preserve". The Castellant has seen it happen before with other brothers in arms. He came closer to Cleophus, bringing a small satchel and a wineskin filled with a dark brandy wine brought by the Duardins of Barak-Th'uum. "Drink it", said Titus while opening the window. The Castellant could see the Sigendil star perfectly aligned with the Golden Palace of Sigmaron that towered over the city, a breathtaking sight for all of those who were not part of a barbarian host of Astral Templars. "I miss the mountains too, my friend"..
Cleophus took a sip of the brandy wine. It tasted good and strong. Then came a long and steady gulp. He let the drink flow and cover every inch of his tongue before swallowing, looking for answers on that bitter sweat drink. He raised his hand, placing it ponderously over his bald head, then proceeded to slowly move it from forehead to nape and back again, reciting in whispers each mystic word tattooed on it. With the tip of his fingers he could feel the bumps of an unrefined twin-tailed comet tattoo that went from his right temple to the back of his ear. He missed his Mortis helm more than ever.
A spark of an image came to his mind.
A strange symmetric mark carved in a dark purple skin chest. But it was not a scar like any other, it was evil in its form and concept, a distinct shape that he knew so well. Khorne. The image became clearer and he could now fell a pungent stench that made his arm hair raise. He could see a wide muscled torso, then long arms with protuberant bones and hands that carry long and dangerous claws that could tear a man apart. Cleophus' hand swept the newly formed sweat from his head making it drip on the floor. The sound of each drop was unusually loud. Like steps, heavy steps. Every second that passed made them louder. And faster. Khorne. This imaginary beast started to advance in such pace, impossible to any creature that size. And it was coming right at him. He froze, unable to move... "SIGMAAAAAAR!!!!”
As the enemy advanced into the Stormcast positions, all Liberators locked shields. There were still no Judicators, as their paint hasn't dried yet, but even so Lord-Castellant Titus knew there was no point in moving forward. The land was barren and covered by gray sand, a vast desert with no vegetation in sight. They could only see a small tower placed right on the center of the battlefield. He prepared a defensive formation with fifteen Liberators divided into three units. Bound to his master, Nestor was by Lord Titus' side, checking for any sign of threat around them, physical or ethereal. The Stormcast Eternal officer knew there was not enough men. He needed more points to achieve the unachievable.
Like a comet coming down from the heavens, help came from another Realm. Crossing through a mystical gate that linked both tables, a Lord-Celestant from the Hallowed Knights arrived swiftly riding his Dracoth to join the Astral Templars. "Lord Titus, I see you have quite an assignment here today", said the newly arrived champion. "Yes, indeed", replied the Astral Templar grateful to have a skilled ally on his side. “Lead us to victory, Lord-Celestant!" The Castellant learned the ways of proper manners when a fellow Stormcast outside the barbarian Astral Templars was present and knew all about hierarchy, even though his wild nature was bound to his soul like the trophy bones were chained to his belt. Furthermore, this would be his first game ever.
“I'm sure you are capable of this task, Lord-Castellant", shouted the Hallowed Knight patting his dracoth's head. "But I'll assist you with anything you need. For now, let me cover the left flank for you!" He rode his dracoth and found a place amongst the Liberators near a big fissure on the ground, with a slab of rusty metal over it like a bridge. A dark crimson liquid flowed at the bottom, it resembled blood but more viscous like thick oil, with bubbles popping every now and then liberating the most nauseating odor.
Meanwhile, Cleophus rose from the ground and found himself between two units of Liberators. He felt the weight of his helm and touched it with his fingers. He noticed he was wearing his old gauntlets. "How am I in full armour?”, he wondered. His gauntlets had the bones of an Necromancer attached to them, an old friend turned into foe during the time of malign prophecies. He looked around and wondered if this was a dream. Or perhaps a memory. Was he in Azyr or on a battlefield in a unknown Realm? "I can smell the stench of the enemy", he thought. “But memories do not smell. And if I'm here, how can I remember the room…"
His thought was interrupted as the first clash came at the left flank, a unit of Bloodreavers came charging, eager to eat the flesh of those who stood in their way. The mounted Hallowed Knight motivated the Astral Templar infantry to hold the line as the enraged enemy threw their bodies recklessly against their shields. A mad laughter came from behind the throng and a warrior climbed on their backs and threw himself over the Stormcast line. Right before reaching the ground, the Bloodreaver was caught mid air by the jaws of the Dracoth and was savagely mauled to his death, torn apart limb by limb. The Lord-Celestant proceeded to attack, finding his way through the Liberators until reaching the enemy line. He took the life of each adversary on his path and raising his hammer he shouted "For Sigmar”, raising the morale as the Liberators around him cheered enthusiastically while holding the assault.
At the right flank the enemy general advanced, followed by two strong units of Blood Warriors. Lord Titus knew this could be their weak point. 'Fall back 5 inches! Make an elbow with the other unit!". The Liberators knew what to do and followed his instructions precisely. He knew that if he kept his distance he could first finish the left threat and move all formation to the right before the Lord of Khorne and his men arrived. "All I needed was one unit of well trained archers" and wished The Hand had more time to spend on the Painting Hall.
Every plan looks good on paper and the Liberators performed the formation retreat perfectly. But at the center, horror came as a Khorgorath was unleashed upon them, managing to find a breach between both shield walls. The creature came charging, unstoppable as a Thundertusk stampede. The center unit had just been held in place by part of the Bloodreavers horde, unable to close the gap. But before this beast could bring carnage into the Stormcast lines, Lord-Relictor Cleophus decided it was enough.
Blocking the passage of the Khorgorath all by himself, Lord Cleophus held his reliquary staff as the creature charged at him. A crushing blow left the priest with only a wound left, but even so close to death he fought back and stood his ground. "You will not… take my head… foul beast…". Cleophus closed his eyes, the next Hero Phase couldn't come any faster.
The enemy general reached the right flank quickly. The thirst for blood made the Khorne Hand speed him up, inconsequently charging into the Stormcast shield wall. But this haste move was not secured by his bodyguards, since both units failed miserably their charge rolls. The mighty Lord of Khorne was held in his place by Liberators, and as much damage he could make, he would suffer twice his share. "Lay low the tyraaaaaant!", shouted the Liberator-Prime to his men as they brought down their warhammers over the Champion of Chaos, making his bones break with a deafening sound.
Lord Cleophus saw an opportunity that he could not miss. Knowing this sacrifice could take him out of the table he held his relic staff tightly and abjuring his healing prayer, the priest brought down a powerful Lightning Storm, taking the life out of Khorne's commander. "Sigmar…" Still holding his staff, the Lord-Relictor got on one knee feeling every muscle and bone ache. Sensing movement next to him, he remembered the Khorgorath. Dice were rolled…
There was no strength in his arms to defend himself. All he could do was pray. In an instant all would be over. “Was this the way I...?” A powerful BOOM was heard. He was still alive! The Khorgorath fell after a massive blow of a bright silver Grandhammer. Liberator-Prime Alexus Maximus hit the beast right on the jaw, smashing it into pieces. The strike pushed the creature away from the priest and its gigantic body almost fell on top of other Liberators, who cheered their champion as they formed another shield wall closer to the right flank. Alexus reached for the priest's arm and helped him to get up. Cleophus noticed the Liberator-Prime was still carrying Azyrian prayer beads around his forearm. It was a gift he gave Alexus as he was promoted to Prime. Though his entire body ached, he smiled.
He heard a scream coming from behind the shield wall, an enraged Blood Stoker was charging furiously towards the Alexus' unit after his beast was defeated. Vengeance foamed out of his mouth. With a single command, Alexus' Liberators responded by locking shields and preparing their warhammers. Meanwhile, the right flank was ready to engage one of the Blood Warriors units, but the other was out of reach, still advancing in the priest position. He raised himself and proceeded to chant a new prayer. The fight continued in the left flank. The Hallowed Knight and his beast were wrecking the enemy lines along with the Liberators. Many enemy units fled during battleshock, but the fight was far from over. It was time to consider moving the formation to help the other flank, but they were still far from reaching the center, let alone Lord Cleophus. Watchful as ever, Lord Titus pointed his Warding Lantern at his friend, who now faced a whole unit of Blood Warriors. Alone.
The brutes engulfed him. Lord Cleophus was exhausted after the Lightning Prayer and still had only a wound left. But again, for the sake of victory and to protect his men, he decided to bring another Lightning Storm into Khorne's men. As they burned from inside, they made their last attack on him, a despicable skill only permitted by a mischievous Khorne warscroll. But the God-King protects those who serve him well and Cleophus miraculously managed to defend himself again and again. As the final blow hits the priest, a lucky save roll result of six healed one of his wound. “Bless you, Titus”, he murmured. But he knew in his heart it was still not enough.
As the fight went on, Lord Titus shouted orders still pointing the lantern's celestial light to the Lord-Relictor. The enemy was enraged and insistently kept beating the priest. There was a tough decision to be made now. The Astral Templar was surrounded by Blood Warriors and if the Liberators came to help, the Khorne men would definitely unleash their final blows on him. But there was no other way and the Relictor knew it. “So be it”. As predicted, each felled enemy directed the final attacks at Lord Cleophus. The priest defended blow after blow and by Sigmar All-Mighty he rolled four sixes on the dice! None around the battlefield could believe this miracle! Blessed are the dice thrown by the hand of Sigmar, blessed is the one who fights unrestrained for His will!
But to every miracle that blooms, a treacherous tragedy looms.
Healed again, the Astral Templar priest kept his ground ferociously. His Relic Hammer circled around him, blazing lightnings from heavens and taking the lives of all who dared face him. But as much as he fought back, there were too many foes to defeat. A strike on his arm made his weapon fell. Another one on his back made his legs tremble and many of the sacred scrolls hanging from his armor were cut in half - ”Cleophus!”
He kept swinging his reliquary, hitting the enemies and trying to keep them away from him. “Cleophus, get out of there!” Another blow on his shoulder and he could not hold his staff anymore. There were too many battle axes coming down on him like a furious storm, his sigmarite armor barely holding out the attacks. “Cleophus, get up!” All he could see were legs coming back and forth, unable to recognize friend or foe. This war dance made the dust rise from the ground making him cough. Another strike hit him hard on the neck, his Mortis Helm was thrown many feets away. A dark sweet liquid was expelled from his throat as he coughed, collapsing into the ground in midst of an explosion of light.
_ “Cleophus”…
He heard his name once again, closer and soft.
_ “Cleophus, rise up.”
The priest was in the room again. He got up and sat on the bed, wet from his own vomit. “Crazy fool, what did you give me to drink?”, he said cleaning his mouth with his forearm, still dizzy from whatever happened to him. The Castellant reached for the wineskin on the ground and drank some of it. “Good, isn't it?” The priest stared at him. “Your new body is not used to this strong wine... yet. And I needed you... unguarded."
_ “What is this foul smell?” asked Cleophus.
_ "It's a piece of the Khorgorath's tooth. I took it after the battle.”
_ "So it really happened. I really died…"
_ "Yes. And brought back. As Sigmar whilst it. I thought this souvenir would speed up your memory." replied the Castellant - "Memories do not smell… but a smell can bring back memories.", thought the priest.
_ "You can add it to your trophies", said the Castellant.
_ "Give it to Alexus", Cleophus replied. "He deserves it more than I do”.
The Castellant put the tooth back on the satchel and took another sip of the brandy wine. "They are calling you… The Stalwart".
Cleophus didn't know what to say. Part of him was relieved to be alive again, but the fact that he was reforged still affected him in a way he couldn't explain. He remembered stories about the Excelsis knights during the Solstice, he saw the change in the eyes and hearts of many warriors reforged. Again, he felt uneasy.
"You are still Cleophus, my friend". The Castellant voice comforted him. Lord Titus was holding the Mortis Helm facing the priest, who reluctantly reached for it. Holding it with both hands, he got up and crossed the room until he reached the window. He looked at the golden city and wondered how many more times he would be back in that room before his emotions got lost forever after many reforgings. He faced his helm again and slowly put it on. He felt whole.
After a brief moment Titus put a hand on his shoulder. "We are all waiting for you, brother. It is time to head back to the mountains”.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hello. My name is Kako and if you reached this far, somehow my text was interesting enough. So… thank you! This is my first post at the Ghurian Chronicles, a tale-report of my Astral Templars.
But wtf is a tale-report?
Well, remember that miraculous save roll that kept your hero alive after your opponent's attack? Or that time you were losing but managed to turn the game to a win on the last tournament at your local store? And then you tried to tell your friends on your AoS whatsapp group and it looked… meh? So, I decided to turn my (sometimes) boring battle-reports into short stories!!! I think it would be a cool thing to make them more epic, specially if you read them with Jonathan Keeble's voice!
LAY LOW THE TYRANTS!!!
This short story is very special because, as it is mentioned, it was really the first time I played a game of Age of Sigmar! A actually played once before, a quick skirmish, but this was the first time I've actually played against an opponent with my army. Well... part of it. I was lacking my Judicators because I hadn't finish their bases… I know… I'm a slow painter. A veeeeery slow painter.
To complete the 1K points I needed for the games my friend Paulo, who was playing in the other table with his Hallowed Knights, lent me his Lord-Celestant on Dracoth... Hey, relax. Everything was under control. He had a Stardrake on his table... Even though I was completely lost with the rules, this was one of my favorite games ever, mainly because of Lord Cleophus' “return to life” bit, due to the Castellant's Warding Lantern ability (Bless you, Titus!). This was really something unbelievable and the reason that inspired me to write this story.
When I wrote its first draft and posted it on my instagram (@astraltemplars), at the end I said that Lord Cleophus needed a surname that fitted his actions during the game and one of my followers suggested some, including the epithet “the Stalwart”. I loved it so much and decided to make it canon in this final version of the story - thanks @winningbacon!!!
Lord-Relictor Cleophus and the Yan Campanella's Korgorath
I really hope that you enjoyed and I'm looking forward to your feedback! If you feel that something was off, know that English is not my first language so… be gentle! Many more tale-reports and short stories will come and I already have another one almost done, a tale about a Judicator-Prime facing… nah… better not to give any spoiler!
See you next time!
K
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