KrrNiGit

Dropping off makes sense with the big tonal jump between the earliest book and later ones. And it is very easy for things to feel more like a slog with such a big series. Best to drop things than soldier on, this isn’t fine art it’s just silly fun. I think if you’re enjoying the current AoS Gotrek books going back and reading the Golden Age books would be good fun if you want more Gotrek action.

Gotrek and Felix Reading guide Have you read/listened to the amazing adventures of Gotrek in the Mortal Realms and wanted to know more? Have the nerds down at the hobby store been shaming your lack of Old World street cred? Have you got a lot of free time and no one to play with? Then have I got the book series for you! The Gotrek and Felix series is the preeminent Old World fiction that Games Workshop have ever produced. With 17 novels and considerably more short stories there is a lot to go through. So to help those of you who are curious here is a primer to help you through their adventures. To break things down I have split the series into several ages, focussing on different styles, authors and thematic elements. PROTO AGE The first age is Gotrek’s proto-period. This age contains William King’s first short stories of Gotrek and Felix and are helpfully collected into the Trollslayer novel. These stories are proper Old Hammer stories. They are very grim and come from a period where the mythos of the Warhammer world had not yet been set in stone. These stories feel like a WHRP or D&D adventure. They are interesting, but distinct from the rest of the books both in theme and tone. Gotrek is not a super-dwarf icon, but rather just another ordinary dwarf surviving by the skin of his few remaining teeth. These books explore dwarfs in the Old World and explore what makes that different from other fantasy setting of the time. They are a mix of thoughtful exploration into the interesting contradiction of being a Trollslayer whilst also feeling like a fanfic of someone’s roleplaying sessions. These stories are a mix of creepy horror and gritty, serious action movies; like the original Die Hard or Lethal Weapon movie. They are good, but don’t really add to the characterisation of Gotrek presented through the later ages of fiction. I enjoyed reading them immensely but you could skip them without missing much. Well worth the read for the nerd cred and completionist. There are also some excellent readings of these short stories in The Oldhammer Fiction podcast. Lewis Kernow really makes the stories come to life and I highly recommend them. GOLDEN AGE With the release of Skavenslayer, William King really begins the Gotrek and Felix story as we know it. Gotrek and Felix become the iconic duo, exploring the Old World’s darkest corners with the humour and charm of Warhammer’s original odd couple. From the grim oddness of the original short stories, Gotrek and Felix enter the now settled world of Warhammer’s family friendly red era. Other key characters are introduced into the Gotrek and Felix story as the novels of this period go on. Not only are notable allies are introduced but one of Warhammer’s most iconic antagonists; Thanquol. These stories contain many meaningful moments and plenty of excitement as they explore the breadth of the Warhammer world. King is able (for the most part) to maintain the stakes, keeping Gotrek from becoming an unharmable killing machine while ramping up the excitement as the stories go. If this period was a movie, it’d be a fun 90s action movie, like Die Hard with a Vengeance. There are gritty and violent elements with engaging characters (even if they aren’t all that deep), but there is also increasing amounts of fun and silly moments. King’s skills as a writer help make these fun romps, with enjoyable characterisations. It is this run that settles Gotrek and Felix as the key Warhammer characters from the Old World. If you are going to read any Gotrek and Felix novels, these are the ones to go with. SILVER AGE The line between the Golden Age and Silver Age of Gotrek and Felix was difficult for me to define. I went with the change of author from William King to Nathan Long with Orcslayer. You could go move this demarcation earlier to include Giantslayer with the last of King novels blending into Long’s both stylistically and with the move of focus away from King’s original wider cast to a more singular focus on Gotrek. This move along with the increasing ridiculousness of the scale of the conflicts presented characterises this group of novels. Gotrek stops surviving by the skin of his teeth and starts to become an unstoppable killing machine slash force of nature slash demigod. As such the obstacles Gotrek faces also need to ramp out in ridiculousness to try and keep pace. The only thing keeping Gotrek from jumping the shark completely here is the skill of Nathan Long’s writing. He manages to keep the feel and fun of the Golden Age going just that bit longer though that shine starts to wear thin towards the end. While fun this period doesn’t really add anything into the Gotrek mythos that couldn’t be skipped. Read these if you enjoyed your way through the Golden Age and still want more hijinks. For a media reference this period is more the very silly Lethal Weapon 4, Rush Hour or He-man Masters of the Universe than the serious, gritty action movies of earlier periods. It is light and fun, if a little more shallow. MEH AGE Following Nathan Long’s Silver Age of novels, Anthony Reynolds and David Guymer have a go at writing for the series. This I feel is the ‘meh’ age. While I have enjoyed other things both Reynolds and Guymer have written these stories were a struggle to grind through. They are largely forgettable. You could easily replace Gotrek and Felix in these stories with any generic fantasy hero and nothing in them would change. They don’t add anything new to the mythos and they don’t feel like the earlier stories or follow the established pattern. Tellingly these stories are the only Gotrek and Felix novels to drop the ‘slayer’ suffix. Don’t bother with these ones... I have been collecting the Gotrek and Felix Omnibuses and this is the only one I haven’t bothered with (even though my collection goes from the fourth to the sixth omnibus now). THE FINAL AGE With the Final age Gotrek and Felix return to form and return to the ‘slayer’ suffix. These two stories, written by David Guymer, bring the story of Gotrek and Felix to a close (as Games Workshop blows up the Old World around them). These stories bring the focus back on the original family of characters established by William King in the golden age, bringing their stories to emotionally satisfying conclusions. Fittingly along with the wider themes of the End Times, these stories return to the grim feeling of the early novels. The world is ending and these stories show our heroes in the peril of an unescapable cataclysm. These provide the bridge between Gotrek and Felix in the Old World and Gotrek’s re-emergence into the Mortal Realms. They are equal parts gritty reboot and return to form for a classic series. They are essential reading for fans. Reading Guide If you want to read the minimum amount but still get the whole story I would recommend reading from Skavenslayer to Vampireslayer and then jumping ahead and read Kinslayer and Slayer. This will give you the key arcs of the main cast and their conclusions. It also picks out the best-written stories in the series in my opinion. If you want more Gotrek and Felix go on high adventures type stories and don’t mind some of the over the top silliness then read the Silver Age books. You’ll have a good time. If after reading all of that and you still love Gotrek and Felix, then you can go back and read the short stories collected in Trollslayer. Having a look into the prototypes of the slayer and heroic archetypes in the Warhammer world is fascinating enough to make up for its rough edges. Finally if you’ve done all that and are a bored ****** you can read the ‘meh’ era stories... or literally do anything else. If I went to reread these myself I would start with Skavenslayer and keep going in order until I started to get sick of Gotrek then jump ahead and read the final two novels (Kinslayer and Slayer) and call it a day.

Yeah, that’s fair enough. I might have some actual narrative play content to share at some point soon too

The Soot of Salzburg Celeste woke long after the light of Hysh had begun to shine. Her head hurt, everything ached but she was unmarked. Her forced Aqua Ghyranis bath the night before had healed her wounds as it had tried to drown her, she thought to herself smiling. Then she thought of Thorpe and the smile fell from her face. Standing up uneasily, she saw the long rifle Maximillian had given her, now bent out of shape. Using it as a crutch she hobbled back to the town square not sure of what carnage waited for her. Celeste found the square in ruins. A solitary handgunner half getting up at her approach, before collapsing down again when they saw that it was her. Puddles of precious Aqua Ghryranis making mud of the dirt of last night’s battle. Moss and clovers were already beginning to grow in the life enriched puddles. The vat itself that had once dominated the square was completely destroyed. The only reminders of it were the bits of brass scattered across the square. In the middle of the square the giant bones of the chaos beast lay bare of their mutated flesh, washed clean by Thorpe’s plan B. Nestled in the middle of them lay a man in black plate armour that was quickly rusting away to nothing. His features oddly human in the early light of Hysh. Instinctively Celeste pointed her long rifle at the figure before laughing to herself. The weapon was in no condition to fire and she knew if she tried she’d be the one dead. She hobbled back to the ruin of the vat leaving the figure where he lay. Reaching the ruin of the vat Celeste collapsed, exhausted. In the rubble she saw something blue and gold. Moving some rubble out of the way she uncovered her guards cap. It was covered in the grime of last night’s fighting but remarkably still intact. The stubby feather coated black in the soot of Salzburg. Celeste picked her cap, and without bothering to wipe the grime off, she put it on proudly. Epilogue She had tried looking for Toumas in the aftermath, but had found no sign of him. Giving up she returned to the square to watch Anh’S’eall. Celeste had barely moved staring at the figure of Anh’S’eall, ever alert for any sign of treachery. For his part Anh’S’eall had barely moved sitting naked in the drying mud. It was late in the day when the townsfolk returned to Salzburg. They were flanked by six golden clad Stormcast Eternals, each a head taller than the average human. They were resplendent in their armour despite each of them showing the dents and scrapes of recent fighting. One of the giant golden clad warriors stopped in front of Celeste and bowed. ‘Herrin Marksmen,’ the Stormcast’s voice rumbled, ‘you need to come with me to Hammerhal and explain all of this.’ Celeste was confused, she was no Marksmen. Then she remembered the soot blackened feather in her cap. Looking up at the stormcast’s sigmarite faceplate with new resolve, Celeste pointed to Anh’S’eall, ‘bring him too.’

Best laid plans The day passed with desperate industry. All folk worked as best they could without complaint. The gate had been repaired and all roads bar the main street to the square had been barred with debris. Thorpe had partially demolished the buildings of the square turning them into improvised walls. It would be more than sufficient to hold foot troops and cavalry in the square. He had even set explosives to blow the houses by the opening to the square blocking them in for good. As Hysh was setting all had been prepared as best it could. In all the busyness, Celeste had twice tried to break off and find Toumas. Both times Maximillian had found her and tasked her with another job before she could. On her third attempt she bumped into Thorpe and Maximillian arguing. ‘I led the defence last night, the chaos scum will expect me to lead the defence tonight,’ Maximillian said. ‘I will lead the halberdiers, and once they’re through I will lead the withdrawal to the square. Then I will close the door on them. I still know how to set off a charge.’ Thorpe grumbled his response clearly unhappy with being sidelined again, ‘Fine, I will hold the square. Celeste and I will set ourselves on the vat. Once you have deemed to grace us with your presence, make your way there Marksmen Maximillian.’ Thorpe bowed sarcastically, ‘now I beg thee pardon to leave, I have a few extra surprises to prepare for our guests. Just in case we need a little something extra before the night is over.’ * * * As evening fell, Maximillian approached Celeste holding a large velvet bag. ‘Do a final run around to the gunners in their spots. Bring them their dinner, make sure they’re ready. And take this,’ handing her the large velvet bag. Celeste opened it, pulling out an exquisitely made rifle with a glass scope. The makers mark was an exquisite badge with a white cross emblazoned on a red field and bordered with rich green. It was Maximillian’s long rifle. She looked up to thank him, but he had already left for the gate. After her final round, Celeste took up a position atop the vat with Thorpe and waited. * * * The haze of the previous evening only grew as the early watches of the night dragged on. Clouding out the little light Ulgu offered as it rose in the sky. Lightning struck the nearby hills, once and then twice, but no rain came. The uncomfortable heat felt smothering under the hazy blanket of clouds and Celeste’s nerves frayed more and more in the waiting. She jumped constantly at any noise or perceived movement out of the corner of her eye. Thorpe in contrast sat relaxed on a small barrel attached to a length of pale rope, smoking his pipe. She nervously adjusted the sights on the long rifle, then the height of her rifle rest, before returning to the sight again. Thorpe tutted, and Celeste ignored him as she had done the previous half a dozen times. ‘They’ll come when they think we’ve worn ourselves out with worrying,’ Thorpe said. It was now Celeste’s turn to tut before returning to the long rifle. * * * The light of Ulgu peaked through the clouds, by its trajectory Celeste placed it as well past midnight before the first distant cracks of gunfire sounded. Three quick cracks, followed by a pause and then three more. Maximillian was using his repeater handgun with great efficiency Celeste thought. It wouldn’t be long now. Celeste heard a feint scrabble on roof tiles. It wasn’t coming from the direction of the gate but behind her. She spun around. She thought she saw a shape, roughly the size of a human, but with a bird like head and feathers but by the time she had brought her rifle up and looked down the scope she there was nothing there. She turned to rouse Thorpe, but he was already standing weapon raised peering out into the dark. ‘Next time you think you see something, shoot first and worry about your scope later,’ Thorpe whispered, ‘it’s better to be a living fool than a dead one.’ They heard an odd cawing, like someone mimicking a crow from across the square, then a scream and then gunfire. All around them, scattered on the roof tops more of the bird like shapes ran. Jumping nimbly from building to building the shapes moved gracefully, hunting the roof tops for prey. Celeste fired her rifle on instinct and swore she saw one of the shapes drop from the roofline. Celeste screamed at the top of her lungs, ‘watch the roofs, there’s enemies on the roofs.’ Thorpe grabbed her arm, ‘run to the gunners stationed by the entrance to the square. Make sure they cover the path in. We need the Chaos filth in the square. Go, do it.’ Celeste nodded and ran. * * * Scrambling through back alleys, and through people’s abandoned houses Celeste picked her way to gunner’s nest overseeing the entrance to the square. She burst into the room to find the gunners both dead, slashed to pieces. Standing over them was in the dim light of the room was what appeared to be a bird demon with cruelly curved talons dripping in blood. Celeste fired on instinct, the shoot going wide and embedding itself in the window frame behind it. As her eyes adjusted to the light of the room Celeste realised that it was not a demon but instead a human wearing a bird skull and decorated with feathers, a cruelly curved blade still clutched in its hands. Celeste’s hands reloaded the rifle on autopilot. Then the room was filled with light and sound as Celeste fired her long rifle from the hip and the fiendish bird was gone. The only sign it left was a few grimy feathers floating slowly to the floor. Celeste ran to the window overlooking the entrance, on the street below a human shape lay awkwardly with a fist sized hole in its chest. Roused from the gruesome scene by the clash of steel on steel Celeste looked down the street seeing Maximillian and a pair of town guards being sorely pressed by a dozen chaos warriors. They wouldn’t make it. Then one of the guards gurgled, ‘the ****** got Gunter, but I was too tough for ‘em.’ Spitting up blood as they tried to sit up. Celeste still recognised Heidi under all the blood. ‘I can keep firing, you just need to prop me up, Celeste.’ Celeste struggled to prop Heidi in a window overlooking the street. Celeste busted out the next window along with the butt of her rifle. Leaning out she took a second to aim before squeezing the trigger. A chaos warrior fell as a two inch hole appeared in their helmet. Celeste hurriedly reloaded and fired again, this time only winging the next chaos warrior but still buying Maximillian a few precious steps towards the square. Maximillian was just below her window when she heard the sound of hoof beats. Even with her rifle an armoured chaos knight would easily run down Maximillian before he could make it the last 15 feet to the square. Panicking she looked around the room for something she could use. She grabbed Gunter’s handgun off the floor and filled the barrel with blackpowder, she ripped her tunic and shoved a fistful of the material into the barrel blocking it up. Filling the pan with a little more powder Celeste lit it and threw it out the window into the street. She hoped this would work. She hoped that chaos horses hated explosions as much as regular horses did, as much as she did. She heard the fizz of powder igniting followed by the gun bouncing off the cobbles below. Then when she had just about given up on her improvisation it exploded. Louder than a gunshot and definitely smokier. The chaos horses whinnied and lost the rhythm of their gallop. She saw Maximillian duck out of the cloud of smoke and hobble towards the entrance to the gate. He was closely followed by the silhouette of Anh’S’eall mounted upon his chaos warhorse. Celeste cried a warning. Maximillian turned towards her just as Anh’S’eall’s warhorse crashed into him. There was a sick wet crunching noise as he was flung with some force into the side of the entrance way. Maximillian slumped awkwardly down. Ignoring the broken Marksmen, Anh’S’eall beckoned his warriors onward into the square. ‘The prize is here, listeners to the eight voices, take it, it’s yours!’ Anh’S’eall said pointing his ensorcelled blade towards the vat. He and his warriors cantered casually into the square. Confidence in their victory clearly seen by the change in their demeanour. Celeste stood staring at the broken body of Maximillian. She couldn’t believe he was dead and he wasn’t. Slowly he began to crawl, pain etched on his face, one arm hanging limply from his torso. He painfully made his way towards the barrel of powder set into the entrance to seal the square. Upon reaching it, he held his pistol against the fuse and pulled the trigger. * * * The force of the explosion knocked Celeste from the window and back into the house. She bounced backwards, tumbling to the floor, pinned down by a great weight. She struggled to untangle herself, pushing the body of Heidi off her as she stood. This time she knew she was dead, an eight inch length of piping had pierced her head. Struggling to her feet she focussed on making it back to Thorpe and her duty to escape the terrible scene she had just witnessed. The sounds of confusion and gunfire rang out as she scrambled back through the buildings to the vat. It was good that some of the gunners had survived and were making the chaos warriors pay, she thought with grim satisfaction. As she mounted the vat, she saw Thorpe standing proudly laughing down at the chaos warriors. She noticed that his armour was dented and scratched in several places but he seemed unbothered. In the square below there was a thick cloud of dirt and debris that had been tossed up by Maximillian’s explosion. She could only see the silhouettes of four chaos knights and dozen or so warriors on foot through the obscuring haze. They were obviously confused, turning, unsure of their surroundings, uncoordinated in its aftermath. She could see flashes from half of the gun nests they’d set up. The handgunners continued to pour fire onto the chaos warriors below. Slowly they began to pull them down one after the other. The gunner’s fire was also uncoordinated, but at least they were safe in their vantage points. After a while the dust from the explosion died down to a three foot blanket of haze covering the square. Even obscured by the dust it was clear that the chaos warriors were were angry. Anh’S’eall still rode, working hard to re-establish some control over his warriors again. The plan was working, Celeste thought, it would soon be over. Thorpe next to her raised his double-barrelled grudge-raker to his shoulder, aiming at the closest knight and fired. A high pitched pop went off as he pulled the triggered, leaving behind a small trail of white smoke that soon dissipated in the night air. The chaos knight next to Anh’S’eall fell from his horse, leaving it riderless. Anh’S’eall moved to the now riderless horse and pulled out an ornate horn from its saddle. The crude runes carved into the horn hurt Celeste’s eyes as she looked at it. Anh’S’eall put it to his lips and blew. Celeste ducked down and covered her ears at the sound. The shrill call seemed to cut through her like a knife, piercing her mind and causing her to cry out in pain. The square fell silent and the gunfire stopped. Then Anh’S’eall laughed. It was without warmth or mirth. It was the turn of the defenders to stand confused with what was about to happen. Then in response to the horn a monstrous bellow sounded in the distance. Then there were heavy footfalls, pounding on the cobbles of the town. Moving between the outlines of the rooftops, Celeste could see a monstrous shape. Seconds later it burst into the square throwing bricks and debris everywhere. It stood on four legs the size of tree trunks, with its shoulder at the height of the roofline. It had several stumpy mutated arms, each ending with vicious looking claws. It raised its horned head and bellowed again, eight small eyes glinting red in the dim light. Anh’S’eall pointed at the nearest gun nest and said ‘kill.’ The great beast leap with surprising speed at the building, tearing it apart easily. The occupant’s screams were cut short as the beast ripped them apart noisily. This carnage shocked the defenders out of their confusion. All started firing at the great beast. Enraged the corrupted animal went from building to building laying waste to each in turn. Nothing was even slowing the thing down. Thorpe shouldered his grudge-raker with a sigh. ‘So it comes to this then. Celeste come over her and help me with this,’ Thorpe said pointing to the barrel at the far edge of the vat’s top. ‘What is it,’ she asked. ‘This barrel is what we’ve both been working for this past year. This is my greatest invention. My contribution to the good of the realms.’ Celeste looked at him confused. ‘It’s blackpowder made with hauntwood and has a twisted hauntwood fuse. It even burns under water, in fact being submerged seems to multiply the effect of the charge. Strange stuff. I wish I had more time with it, I was only starting to get to know it.’ Thorpe’s chest puffed up a little, obviously proud of his work. ‘Oh and take this,’ he said, holding out a small cog marked with a duardin rune towards her. ‘That token is your entry into the cogsmith’s guild, marked with the rune of Grungi it is. Let them know what we achieved together.’ Celeste came to stand beside Thorpe at the vat’s edge. ‘I know you will do me proud girl, I know you will and... Sorry about this,’ Thorpe said, placing both hands upon Celeste’s back he pushed her off the top of the vat. Celeste hit the roof of a nearby townhouse. She rolled down the steep sloping roof before thudding hard into the ground below, knocking the wind out of her. Dazed she struggled to her feet. She heard Thorpe’s deep voice cursing in the hard duarden tongue. Then there was the familiar fizz of a lit fuse, then nothing. Celeste heard the muffled mocking laughter of Anh’S’eall from the other side of the barricade. She took a step and stumbled. She had to get back to fight. Then there was a muffled boom. The vat groaned. It’s brass fittings bending outward for a second before it gave all at once. A great rush of Aqua Ghyranis poured out of the vat in all directions. The wave caught Celeste up, washing her down the street far away from the square. Celeste banged her head in the process and everything went black.

What they came for Only once Hysh was fully above the horizon did Maximillian feel safe enough to let the remaining guards break their formation. Walking over to the nearest wounded town guard who was slumped against the ruin of the gate, Maximillian tried to get their attention but there was no response. Blood had stained the sleeve of their shirt and he parted it to see the wound beneath. The cut itself was superficial, it would’ve hurt but wouldn’t be enough to kill on its own. Maximillian had seen hardened soldiers fight on with such a wound for hours if caused by a mundane weapon. Unfortunately for the poor guard chaos rune swords had caused these. The wounds would be infused by unholy chaos energy, quickly becoming necrotic and were almost always fatal. This man was dead. Maximillian sighed and collapsed down next to him, utterly spent. It was still early when Thorpe and the burgermeister arrived at the town gate, Thorpe confidently stomping down the centre of the street with the burgermeister cautiously walking up a few steps behind him. They arrived to see the guards sitting exhausted in twos or threes by the gate. They sat where they had fought the night before. Silent. None dared raise their heads dreading to see what had become of their friends who hadn’t been as lucky. Seeing the pair approach Maximillian struggled to stand and headed towards them. Reaching them a short distance from the gate he ushering them into an empty house nearby. Celeste, seeing Maximillian get up and go into the empty house forced herself to her feet and followed. * * * As Celeste entered the house Thorpe was in the middle of a belligerent tirade, the burgermeister trying to hold him back from Maximillian. Maximillian said nothing, waiting for Thorpe to bluster himself out. ‘Last night we held the gate against a small Chaos warband,’ Maximillian said once Thorpe had finished. ‘Barely a handful of warriors and a couple score of mutants and they almost had us. We cannot hold off that number again if they come back tonight.’ ‘Of course you struggled, you sent off your stoutest warrior,’ Thorpe exclaimed. ‘I sent our stoutest warrior to defend the heart of our town,’ Maximillian retorted dryly, ‘to be our last line of defence.’ The burgermeister piped in, ‘so if they come back and we can’t hold the gate another night, what do we do?’ ‘If they come back, we die,’ Maximillian said bluntly. Maximillian’s response lay heavy in the small room, leaving the three leaders in silence. Thorpe was the first to break the silence, ‘then I’d better get to fixing the gate and setting some surprises for them. Let us extract a bloody toll before we go to meet our ancestors.’ ‘Why did they come?’ Celeste interrupted suddenly, ‘what do they want?’ This stunned the trio. Celeste continued, ‘he said he’d come for our life water.’ Celeste paused seeing the confusion on their faces, ‘I had thought that just meant he wanted our blood and to kill us, but maybe he actually wants our life-water.’ Celeste paused again and still seeing no recognition in their eyes, ‘our literal life water, our Aqua Ghyranis.’ The truth of what Celeste had said slowly sunk in to them filling them with hope. If there was something the enemy wanted, then there was something more they could do. This relit the fire behind Maximillian’s eyes, rekindled with a vicious hope, ‘let’s set a trap.’ * * * The unlikely four set themselves to planning for the next assault. They worked together to plan for an outcome that none of them truly considered a possibility and something that was clearly out of Celeste’s depth. ‘So what have we got in our arsenal?’ Thorpe asked. ‘We have maybe half a dozen halberdiers left, not enough to stand up to Chaos warriors or hold the gate for more than a few minutes. Not enough left to be anything but slaughtered,’ Maximillian said dejectedly. ‘He asked what we had, not what we’ve lost,’ Celeste pointed out. ‘We have,’ Maximillian retorted, ‘the best handgunners in the realm, freshly blooded with enough shot and powder left to make a gargant blush. But they cannot stand up to a charge of Chaos knights and the walls are too short to offer them protection for long enough to make use of our supplies.’ ‘So we know they’re after the Aqua Ghyranis, and we know that we need to keep out of their reach...’ Thorpe muttered to himself as he stroked his beard. ‘The vat is the tallest building in town,’ Celeste added, ‘can we shoot down on them from that?’ ‘Aye, we could. We have strength enough to draw them into the square, and I can set the gunners around it to create a killing field. Station some on the roof tops around it and some on the vat. If we can keep them there we can kill them,’ Maximillian replied, ‘but how do we keep them there?’ Thorpe piped up at this. ‘Over last night we began to barricade the square, give me some strong backs and I can make it a trap they won’t escape from.’ ‘Alright,’ Thorpe said, ‘sounds like a plan. Maxi go prepare the guards. Fix the gate the best you can. Can’t make it too easy for the spikies or they might not take the bait. I’ll go and lay our trap and make sure there is no way out of that square.’ Maximillian turned to Celeste, ‘go around to all the tallest windows looking down onto the square. Take the gunners with you and set them up in pairs. Make sure they have plenty of shot and powder. No point leaving anything for tomorrow.’ With that both Thorpe and Maximillian turned to go. ‘B-b-but what about the townsfolk,’ the burgermeister stuttered. Not pausing Thorpe replied, ‘send any volunteers who want to fight to Maxi at the gate. The rest work for me today. Then once evening falls, take them to the hills. Salzburg will be a place of blood tonight.’ As Celeste followed Maximillian out of the building he paused, grabbing her gently ‘why’d you follow me in here?’ ‘You said to stay within eye shot,’ was her honest reply. ‘Ha. I’ll make a soldier out of you yet.’

The gate As Celeste arrived at the last pair of watchmen, she heard the distant crack of handguns. The battle had begun. Delivering Maximillian’s orders as quickly as she could, Celeste then took off back towards the gate reinvigorated by adrenaline and fear. The acrid stink of black powder smoke met Celeste as she arrived back at the gate. Outside the wall, humanoid shapes capered about with a murderous intent. At best they could be described as only roughly humanoid. Some had three arms or an extra head, some were covered in spikes or had a tentacle instead of another limb, and some were far, far worse. Celeste thanked Sigmar that the thick smoke of blackpowder use obscured their details. These figures seemed to ignore all but the most significant wounds, often taking three or more shots before they fell to the ground, gurgling out their remaining lifeblood. The mutants swiped at anyone who got too close to the edge of the wall, forcing the gunners to take a step back. Once they figured out that the gunners were mostly out of reach they began throwing stones and other improvised weapons as they capered. Seeing Maximillian standing atop the gate, Celeste headed towards him hands over her ears. He was staring out beyond the wall, ignoring the hollering hoard just below his feet. Following his gaze Celeste saw the unmistakable silhouette of Anh’S’eall. ‘Is that it,’ Maximillian seemed to say to himself. As if his words were some sort of signal, six figures emerged from the fog. Each a head taller than any man Celeste had seen and all covered in the same black spiked plate as Anh’S’eall. Each carried a shield bearing a sneering demonic face in their off hand and between them they carried a batter ram, ending in a demonic face, burning with an inner fire. ‘Take them down! Stop them getting to the gate,’ Maximillian hollered louder than Celeste had ever heard him. Handgun shots ricocheted off the chaos warriors and they stomped on towards the gate unconcerned. The rate of fire begun to slow as the chaos warriors reached the gate. Maximillian grabbed Celeste and shook her until she removed her hands from her ears. ‘They need more powder and shot. Keep them firing,’ with that Maximillian thrust Celeste toward the stores and away from the fighting. ‘Go!’ he yelled shocking Celeste into motion. As Celeste grabbed the extra shot and powder she heard the terrible crunch as the battering ram hit the gate. Looking over her shoulder she saw splinters already flying from it. It would not last long. Celeste ran along the wall, handing out ammunition as she went. As she did the rate of fire increased and begun to weigh on the chaos warriors at the gate. She turned to see one of the chaos warriors slump to one knee before slowly toppling over. The remaining five continued to ram the gate without missing a beat. Celeste went to the next hand gunner along the wall, reaching into her pack for a fresh charge of powder as she did so. When she looked up to hand it to them, they were gone. Looking beyond the wall she saw them laying on the street below, a large stone protruding from their head, a pool of blood slowly spreading around them. Celeste closed her eyes to blink away the tears. * * * There was a loud crunch from the ram. They were almost through. At that Maximillian called the handgunners from the wall, forming them up in a semi-circle behind the square of halberdiers. Now that the guns had stopped firing an eerie silence descended upon the gate only broken by the rhythmic crunch of the ram. Celeste saw the battering ram’s head poke through creating a breach in the gate. The red flame licked the wooden boards, melting them, causing the wood to run like liquid. ‘One more’ll do it. Hold damn you,’ the halberdier sergeant yelled to his squad. The sergeant was right. With the next blow of the ram the door flew open sending a splash of melted gate at the front rank of halberdiers. Three fell screaming and writhing. With inhuman speed the chaos warriors were into the halberdiers. Silently slashing with cruel, murderous blades. It was bloody carnage and sheer violence of it took the halberdier square back a step and then another. One of the handgunners raised their musket to shoot. Maximillian slapped it down. ‘Hold damn you. You shoot when I tell you and not before. Let them do their job.’ The melee between the halberdiers and the chaos warriors was brutal. The chaos blades rent through the halberdiers as if they weren’t there, separating limb from limb, opening torsos and causing bloody ruin. The halberdiers for their part did their best to work together, using the longer reach of their weapons to pummel the chaos warriors in unison. In that first few brutal minutes of melee combat the halberdiers managed to bring down two more chaos warriors but had lost many more of their number in return. If this continued much longer there would be none left. The remaining chaos warriors began to make a wedge separating the halberdier block, slowly pushing it apart. ‘Aim,’ Maximillian commanded raising his hand. The handgunners shouldered their guns taking careful aim. ‘Fire.’ His hand rushed down as a deafening volley was unleashed. Another chaos warrior fell, but so did a few more halberdiers. ‘Charge,’ Maximillian yelled as he threw himself towards the remaining chaos warriors not looking back to see if anyone followed. The handgunners looked at each other for a second and then followed behind Maximillian with a yell. The fighting was a brutal mash of bodies in the compact space of the gate. After long bloody minutes the guards had pushed the last remaining chaos warrior out of the gate and into the field beyond. ‘Hold here, we are the gate!’ Maximillian yelled, forming the mix of halberdiers and handgunners into a rough formation. Out of the haze the mutated shapes cackled and capered. When they got too close the guards would strike out towards it with halberd or gun butt. They held their ground there until the light of Hysh began to pierce through the fog and the mutants withdrew. Looking down the road, the silhouette of Anh’S’eall could not be seen. His banner still stood proud in the ebbing smoke, the eight-pointed icon alight with a blood red inner flame. ‘This is not over,’ Maximillian wheezed exhausted and hoarse.

This is the second part of my Celeste YA AoS fanfic. Enjoy! C&C welcome A festival to remember Maximillian had his apprentice handgunners practice their rounds relentlessly and they had almost begun to look like real guards. Celeste had spent those days fetching things and getting pushed around by everyone. She learnt many new ways to navigate the town, which was something she hadn’t thought possible having grown up there her entire life. Maximillian had told them all that they would be on duty during the festival dashing their hopes of joining in the festivities. The guards were devastated but eventually gave their begrudging acceptance. Celeste stayed quiet, thinking to herself that as the runner they wouldn’t miss her if she snuck out for a little bit and joined in, just for a dance or two, if she could find the right partner. Celeste did her best to hide her smile. * * * As the day of the festival dawned the entire town was excited as a hot breeze whipped down the laneways and streets. A brownish green haze had settled across the horizon. Waking early Celeste went down stairs ready for a day running around and trying to avoid Maximillian. ‘Oh you’re up,’ her mother said looking up as Celeste made her way down the stairs. Celeste was lost in her own thoughts, ignoring her. She was too excited and ran straight outside oblivious to the world around her. Taking two steps out of her door, she felt something soft squish under foot. Pausing she bent down and picked up a small pale blue flower that was now somewhat squished. By midmorning the ordinarily sleepy Salzburg was abuzz with activity. Everyone was preparing themselves for the festival. Talk and laughter filled the air. As midday rolled around the convoy hadn’t arrived, while they were usually here by now but Celeste told herself not to worry, it was hot and maybe the convoy had taken it easy so were running a little late. Then it was mid-afternoon and still no convoy. The earlier joyous noises had quietened, replaced by a strained tension of anticipation. Then it was evening and still no convoy. Maximillian was more agitated than usual, something wasn’t right to his mind. So he kept all his gunners at their posts, occupying himself by giving little surprise inspections to ensure their watchfulness. He had also gotten the halberdiers to shut the town gate and post themselves in the barracks so they were ready if they he needed them. Celeste had tried to find an excuse to pop into the barracks but Maximillian kept a tight grip on her time. As the light of Hysh settled below the horizon the convoy still hadn’t come. The frustration of unmet expectations weighed heavy on the townsfolk as they tried to settle themselves for a restless night of sleep. The unseasonable heat had not dissipated during the evening only adding to their restlessness. Meanwhile Maximillian had gathered the town guard, Celeste thought to dismiss them. ‘It is our duty to protect Salzburg and its store of Aqua Ghyranis until the convoy arrives,’ Maximillian began. ‘Never in our town’s history has our proud company failed in this duty. We have watched and protected our town. We have done our duty to our god-king and our people. We will not fail now!’ The guards groaned as Maximillian continued to outline his plan. They were not going home. Maximillian split the guard into watches and patrols, commanding those off watch to rest in the barracks and remain ready. Celeste began to slink off to the barracks, as the runner she was not part of any watch. ‘Celeste, get over here,’ Maximillian called to her. ‘You stay with me,’ Maximillian said. ‘The runner’s job isn’t just to fetch and carry but to relay their commander’s orders. Once we are spread out, you are my only way of coordinating this rabble, and the only way for them to communicate back to me. So you stay in my eyeshot or Sigmar help me, girl, Sigmar help me.’ How could this night get any worse, Celeste thought to herself. * * * The realm of Ulgu had risen bathing Salzburg in a greyish light, sapping the town of its colour. The first watch was ending and the second watch was heading out to replace them. The warm breeze of the day had stilled leaving a stuffy feeling in the air. Getting increasingly restless as the night wore on and wanting some fresh air Celeste went out on the pretence of helping the guards hand over the watch. Standing atop the city gate, she saw a single horsemen approached the gate, only stopping once they were past the tree line. The rider sat tall and proud in the saddle, silhouetted by the light of Ulgu. They held a metal banner pole, three times the height of a man and topped with a crude metal ring divided by eight spikes. The rider banged the pole against the cobbles of the road, eight times. The sound rang out filling the silence of the night, chilling Celeste to the bone. Walking their horse forward, the rider slowly came into focus out of the haze. The rider was covered head to toe in blackened plate armour. It was adorned with cruel spikes and vicious looking blades. Every flat surface was covered crude runes that shifted and hurt Celeste’s eyes when she tried to focus on them. The plate clung to the rider’s body like a second skin. It moved fluidly as if it was a part of the rider themselves, unlike the rigid plates she’d sheen the halberdiers practice with. The rider adjusted their posture as their horse stomped with impatience. Rider and steed moved with a barely leashed violence which reminded Celeste of a great predator, like some sort of great dracoline stalking through the night. Stopping well within shot range. The rider cleared their throat and begun to speak. Even without raising their voice, it carried clearly to the guards who now stood by the gate. ‘Good people,’ the rider purred in their strange accent, ‘I am Ahn’S’eall, and I speak for the eight voices.’ The rider paused as if expecting some sort of recognition, but Celeste and the town guard had none. ‘I am he who comes in the night, the scourge of Verdia, the destruction of the Dreadwood, the herald of the eight woes.’ He paused again, clearly frustrated by the lack of response from the guards. Breaking the silence the halberdier’s sergeant called out, ‘well, that’s all an’ good but what da ya want?’ Infuriated by the sergeant’s nonchalant reply, Ahn’S’eall spat back, ‘I have come for your water of life! You will not deny me.’ A shot rang out, interrupting Ahn’S’eall, ricocheting off the chaos knight’s armour with a loud ping. ‘You will not live to regret that,’ Anh’S’eall spat. Thrusting his banner into the earth he turned and cantered into the woods. The banner swayed there menacingly emanating an unnatural red light. After a long few moments, a relieved chuckle rose from the guards around. This chuckle was answered by the beating of not too distant drums and the call of a horn. ‘Quickly girl,’ the sergeant said grasping Celeste’s arm, ‘rouse Maximillian.’ * * * ‘Maximillian,’ Celeste called as she burst into the barracks almost running straight into him. Barely a foot in front of her he stood, well dressed and equipped, ready for whatever the night might bring. ‘I hear them girl,’ he said as he pushed past her and out into the night, heading towards the gate. ‘To me guardsmen, to me,’ Maximillian yelled above the drums. Quickly he was surrounded by the halberdiers and the handgunners who were resting in the barracks and those within earshot around the gate. ‘We’re under attack, it’s time to earn your coin. We hold them at the gate. If they get through us, there will be nothing left by morning. Then when the convoy finds the ruins of Salzburg, they will deem us to have been the lucky ones, gifted with a swift death in battle instead of the long torment of chaos. So we will hold.’ He paused and the gathered guards mumbled their accent. ‘Sergeant, from a square behind the gate. When the gate is breached, your men will be the gate. If you fall, we all fall, understood?’ The sergeant saluted and left to organise his troops. ‘Gunners, you are to hold the wall. If they get over the wall, it doesn’t matter how many gates we hold, we will be lost! Wait until you have a clear shot. Don’t waste your powder. Once you’re out you’ll be down there with the halberdiers. Get to it!’ The gunners gave a quick ‘yes sir,’ and broke off to get into position. ‘And don’t forget your hand weapons, the butt of your gun will only get you so far,’ Maximillian called after them shaking his sabre to emphasise his point. As quickly as they had arrived they left leaving Celeste and Maximillian alone in the yard. Maximillian turned to her opening his mouth to speak but his eyes focused on something over her shoulder. Celeste turned to see what he was looking at. Thorpe stood there in his battle armour. Hair and beard as neat as the day Celeste first met him. Above his head was a small furnace, wheezing with steam as he moved. ‘Time to kill these chaos filth,’ Thorpe said lifting his unusual double barrelled rifle enthusiastically. ‘Yes,’ Maximillian said placing a hand on Thorpe’s shoulder, ‘but first I need you to ring the warning bell in the town square. Raise the alarm and gather the folk together. Once they’re all in the square, barricade it as only a duardin can. Once we’re breached we will fall back to the square and hold them there. Protect the people, protect the vat, protect Salzburg.’ Thorpe didn’t meet Maximillian’s eyes but stomped off towards the town square anyway. Once Thorpe had left Maximillian finally turned to Celeste. ‘Celeste, quickly make a circuit of the walls, tell the watchmen out there to remain at their posts. We have no way of knowing when or where they’ll come at us from. Tell them that they are our eyes, make sure they stay open, then hurry back here. Go!’ With that he pushed Celeste towards the wall. She did not need any further encouragement and ran off in a sprint. As she ran the circuit of the walls, she heard the alarm bells begin to ring. Salzburg was fighting for its life. She hoped her family would make it to the square. She hoped that they would be alright. Blinking back the tears, she ran.

I will have to look into it, thanks for the advice @NinthMusketeer

4. A true guard Over the following weeks, Celeste hardly saw Thorpe and when she did he was muttering to himself. Ever since they had brought back the stringy hauntwood Thorpe had been obsessed. She had also not seen Toumas, not even the short hellos and glimpses she had gotten used to, though she did look out for him. This left her spending more time in Maximillian’s company. The increasing heat had not helped Maximillian’s mood either. His antagonism seemed to get steadily worse, making Celeste almost look back fondly on some of their initial interactions. Waiting for Maximillain to arrive with today’s torments Celeste stood next to some of her fellow gunners, Gunther and Heidi. While she was tolerated by her fellows, she was still an outsider amongst them due to all the time she had spent away with Thorpe. She did not begrudge the resentment they had for her as she was spared the worst of Maximillian’s attentions. ‘I hears the convoy is late,’ Gunter loudly whispered to Heidi. ‘Trouble in the woods,’ Heidi responded, ‘my pa says that the woods are more dangerous then ever. He said they’ve been having lots of close calls gather the Aqua Ghyranis.’ Quietening her voice as she noticed Celeste nearby she continued, ‘says the beasts have become vicious and even the sylvaneth have left.’ ‘They’re not the only ones who’ve left us,’ Gunter replied, ‘when was the last time you’ve seen a travelling merchant pass by? I’ve been wanting to buy a ribbon for Pip for when I ask her to the midsummer dance.’ ‘Ooo, Pip,’ Heidi teased. Celeste feeling embarrassed overhearing this personal conversation moved to her place at the end of the line. It was five bells before Maximillian showed up. It was unlike him to be late. In fact this may have been the first time Celeste could think of that she had arrived before he did. * * * Celeste busied herself while waiting by cleaning her handgun. Noting some burnt powder in the barrel, she pulled her hankerchief from her trousers. Stuffing it down with two fingers, Celeste worked it back and forth to dislodge it. Maximillian blustered up to where the trainee handgunners had gathered. Stopping dead when he saw Celeste. ‘What in the realm of Shyish do you think you’re doing?!’ His face was a bright shade of red Celeste had never seen it. ‘You’ll clog the barrel cleaning it was a rag like that! That better not be charged with powder or you’ve made yourself a bomb. You’ll bloody kill yourself acting like that!’ ‘Use a wire brush you idiot!’ He finished throwing a small brush at her, hitting her square in the face. Maximillain took a few breaths to try and compose himself. ‘Guess what my little ones,’ he continued sarcastically, ‘you will all be on guard duty for the midsummer festival.’ The company groaned. ‘It is tradition for the trainees to show their dedication and growing professionalism by taking on their first watches during the midsummer festival. In the coming weeks before the festival I shall teach all you will need to know to keep our lovely town safe. By the end of this week, you shall walk like a real guard, talk like a real guard and act like a real guard.’ ‘What has all this shooting training been for then,’ one of the other trainees said exasperated. Maximillian rounded on the trainee like a predator who has just found a helpless morsel, ‘I, in my infinite generosity, have been teaching you how to use your tools safely. We don’t want you accidentally blowing off your own thumbs, or worse yet mine.’ Maximillian paused for laughter and when none came he continued, ‘now I will teach you how use those tools to be a guard.’ Maximillian forced the trainees to walk back and forth across the training yard, instructing them how to carry their guns, which side they should stow their spare powder and shot and how to call out to each other. After several hours of marching back and forth in the uncomfortable heat, Maximillian must have thought their progress acceptable enough. Turning to face the group Maximillian yelled, ‘grab your gear and follow me!’ He walked them all around the town wall, pointing out good firing positions, cursing the constant growth and the laziness of the halberdiers for not clearing it well enough or far enough. Whenever one of the trainees held their weapon incorrectly, or slouched, Maximillian would pause his instructions and berate them. The heat had not dampened his temper. Upon completing a full rotation of the town, Maximillian gathered his trainees together forcing them to stand in the upright posture he had shown them and split them up into watches. Each watch was to work together to complete the overlapping circuits that he said would keep the town safe. When he got to the end of the line where Celeste had taken her usual position he stopped. ‘You there, girl,’ Maximillian said pointing to Celeste, purposefully forgetting her name, making her feel small. ‘Since you are the worst shot you will be responsible for fetching the powder and shot for the gunners in their positions.’ The other recruits snickered at this obvious slight. ‘You should be used to running errands with all that chasing about that dwarf has got you doing,’ Maximillian snickered at his own joke. Celeste reddened with anger at Maximillian, struggling to hold it in check. She nodded slightly to him. Maximillian took this as a victory and continued to yell out his instructions to the squad of handgunners. ‘Breaks over slackers,’ Maximillian yelled, ‘back to marching the wall.’ * * * Maximillian pushed his trainees back into a marching column and started another loop of the town. As the day went on, Celeste fell further and further behind the group. The group was clearly happy to ignore her, and as the day went on she was more and more happy to ignore them. By mid afternoon they had returned to the section of the wall near the barracks. Celeste took this opportunity to duck out and visit Thorpe. She hadn’t seen him in a week and part of her worried about him, a larger part just wanted to leave Maximillian and the others. Entering into the cool dark of the cogsmith’s workshop Celeste was stunned. While it had always been full of things before there was always an order to things. Now it looked as if there had been some sort of tornado loose. Samples were strewn across the room, the workbench was covered almost a foot deep with all sorts of odds and ends. In the middle of it all sat Thorpe, head in his hands. His usually tightly managed hair and beard was wild surrounded his head like a frizzy mane. Looking up at her Thorpe croaked, ‘this this this... hauntwood... you said it’d work... you said... you...’ ‘I just told you what I knew of it,’ Celeste responded shocked at the accusation in his tone. ‘We’ve always used it to twist the ropes for the Aqua Ghyranis barrels. If doesn’t rot like regular ropes. I’ve seen it, everybody knows that.’ ‘You’ve tricked me, wasted my time and my mind on your lies,’ Thorpe said, ‘you were just a scared little girl saying whatever it took to escape her situation. You’re not fit to be a cogsmith, we follow Grungni! We don’t deal in lies.’ Thorpe rose as he spoke, spitting the words at her with what little saliva he had left. ‘You don’t know, you can’t know, sitting hiding away in your dark corner,’ Celeste screamed as she ran from the room. Slamming the door behind her, Celeste did not stopping until she was back in her room in the attic of her parent’s cottage. Alone once again, Thorpe slumped back down, head into his hands. ‘Twisted bloody rope,’ he muttered.

3. Spring to summer From then on Celeste split her time between helping Thorpe and training with Maximillian. She and Thorpe would spend hours collecting samples, processing them and analysing them before storing them away in his workshop. She admired his drive to learn as much as possible but still didn’t understand what he meant by “trying to know” the heart of things. That said, she much preferred the time spent with Thorpe to her time training with Maximillian. Maximillian was definitely annoyed with that but couldn’t say anything to either Celeste or Thorpe. Without Thorpe and his black powder their handguns were little more than clubs and Thorpe, Maximillian and even Celeste knew it. This unspoken knowledge helped build her confidence and she was able to ignore Maximillian a little better and her aim improved accordingly. She hardly saw Toumas still, despite both being in the town guard. When she did though her words caught in her throat. She tried to push him out of her mind, but every now and then the thought of him would pop in unbidden. Thinking of him would bring a fresh flush to her cheeks. This was the pattern of Celeste’s life as early spring, with its crisp mornings and clear days was replaced by a hot, sticky summer. Clear spring skies replaced with a constant summer haze. The heat had the town on edge, and nobody more so than the town guard. Celeste thought that even the wildlife seemed on edge. * * * One morning as Celeste was walking to the training yard she noted how full the Aqua Ghyranis vats in the town square was getting. The midsummer festival was fast approaching. It was the time where the caravan from Hammerhall came to Salzburg to collect their stores of Aqua Ghyranis bringing with them a huge armoured convoy, troops and their camp followers to town. It was a high point of the year and a great celebration. Everyone looked forward to it. Celeste liked to mentally marked where the Aqua Ghyranis was up to and every day as it inched closer to full, closer to collection and therefore closer to the festival. Walking into the training yard a messenger bumped past Celeste. She smiled to herself remembering the day where she and Toumas had bumped into one another and how embarrassed she’d been then. Not thinking anything more about it Celeste entered the gunshop. Thorpe was there, turning a letter in his hand, hiding it hastily when Celeste entered. ‘Oh, you’re here,’ Thorpe muttered, his mind clearly on the letter more than on her. ‘We need to get some of that stringy hauntwood you were blathering on about,’ he stated slightly more gruffly than normal. ‘I know it’s been hard to find, the woodsmen must’ve cleared out a lot of the local copses to help store all the Aqua Ghyranis, did you see the vat? I’ve never seen it so full,’ Celeste replied. ‘Aqua Ghyranis?’ Thorpe said sardonically, ‘pah, just get me my sample girl or what good are ya.’ Thorpe’s rebuttal stung Celeste more than she was willing to admit, ‘there’s one place they probably wouldn’t have harvested, it’s a bit of a trek and you couldn’t have gotten their carts up there.’ ‘You go and get me a sample then,’ Thorpe replied at her unusually snappily. ‘I’ve more important things to do than chase more mystery trees with you.’ A sudden thought came to her. ‘It’s going to take me all day and I might need some help...’ she trailed off. ‘Just grab some idiot then and get out of my beard,’ and that was all the excuse Celeste needed. Heading straight out towards the town gate, Celeste waved at Maximillian as she passed, ignoring his barely concealed annoyance. Once outside the town wall she paused and listened for the sound of wood cutting. It was time to get herself some help. Walking towards the sound of the town guards clearing the trees from the wall, Celeste stopped short and watched them for a moment. Seeing Toumas, she took a deep breath and readied herself. She puffed out her chest, stood up straight, fixed her cap and put on her best airs of importance. She went straight up to the old sergeant who was directing the guards work from the shade. ‘Sergeant,’ Celeste said trying to project a level of command in her voice she did not feel, ‘the cogsmith needs one of your men to support his work.’ Barely pausing to spot Toumas from the crowd who had stopped their labours to see what the commotion was about. ‘That one will do.’ Bemused more than anything the sergeant replied, ‘well if the old cogsmith demands it, we obeys,’ proffering a sarcastic bow. Celeste ignored the sarcasm in it. ‘Good. Well come along then boy,’ and before the sergeant or anyone else could say anything more Celeste walked off into the woods and confidently as she could muster. It was a few minutes before she stopped and looked to see if Toumas had followed. She breathed a sigh of relief. He had followed. * * * Turning away from him once again she said, ‘we are heading to that small glen we found with the stringy hauntwood sapplings where we... where you... you know...’ Her voice trailed off and her face reddened. ‘Where what?’ Toumas replied trying to sound gruff. Celeste turned and looked daggers at him. ‘Where I picked you a little flower,’ Toumas said shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘Yes,’ Celeste said quietly, ‘it was the colour of my eyes.’ * * * Their journey continued on the same way with Celeste trying to break the silent tension and Toumas barely responding if at all. It hadn’t been this difficult last time they had talked, she thought. After an hour or so of painful silence they came at least upon the little glen from their shared childhood adventures, and there at the darkest corner was a collecting of tall, sinewy branches. Pale white with ****** ever few feet, it was stingy hauntwood. ‘Well, there it is, let me at it,’ Toumas said brashly, gripping his axe. ‘Wait,’ Celeste called, but Toumas ignored her and swung at the tree. As his axe hit the branch, it seemed to absorb the force, bending at the ****** like a multiple jointed snake. Toumas swung again and again, each time to little or no effect. After a few minutes he was breathing hard and glistening with his exertion. ‘Stop, stop,’ Celeste said, grabbing Toumas’ arm, ‘don’t you remember anything from our lessons. To harvest hauntwood you need to cut it at the knuckles.’ She took a small knife from her belt and put a neat slice around a ****** of hauntwood, cleanly severing the bark. Bending the branch down, she beckoned to Toumas, ‘now use you axe.’ Toumas’ next blow nearly severed the branch completely. The power of it shocked Celeste as it reverberated up her arms as she held the branch down. Working together they quickly had a neat bundle of hauntswood ready to go. With their work done they sat together on the soft grass of the glen. Leaning back and resting on their arms, their hands were no more than a few inches apart. Each time their eyes met, Celeste smiled involuntarily and looked away. She swore his eyes were smiling back. After what felt like too short a time to Celeste, Toumas sprung to his feet, ‘we’d better head back.’ Celeste started to complain and ask for a few more minutes but there was something about the look on his face that brokered no further discussion. * * * By the time they returned to Salzburg it was almost dark. ‘Thanks for all your help today Toumas,’ Celeste said smiling and looking at her feet, ‘it was nice to get out of the town with you.’ Toumas mumbled softly in reply. ‘There you are girl,’ Thorpe exclaimed as her shot forward to meet the pair. ‘Where have you been, it’s almost nightfall. You never know what’s about those blasted woods at night?’ ‘Look here, we’ve got the hauntwood,’ Celeste said proudly. Turning to show what Toumas had been carrying to the duardin. When she turned, Toumas was gone and on the ground was the neat bundle of white wood. Thorpe, his anger forgotten, pushed past the stunned Celeste and began to closely examine the stringy hauntwood. ‘This might actually do,’ Thorpe said almost to himself, ‘course I’ll need to dry and powder it first. Water repellent powder. I’ll be known from Shyish to Azyr. The most famous duardin since Bugmansson. Then even those fools at the guild couldn’t hold back my masters rank.’ Thorpe trailed off enthralled in the small stack of lumber before him. Celeste recovering from the shock of Toumas’ sudden disappearance took a step back. She had learned to leave Thorpe when we was in such a state, and she was tired. It had been a long and confusing day. As she turned to go she saw it, a small flower. It was pale blue with upturned petals. Thorpe had absentmindedly knocked it from atop the bunch of logs as he busily looked them over. Picking it up, Celeste smiled to herself and practically floated all the way home.

That’s ok, I definitely wasn’t qualified to write it 😁 I really appreciate your response anyway, it’s much nicer than the silence.

Tough Training It had been a rough day. Maximillian had spent it at her shoulder, yelling constantly. She fumbled with her handgun, struggling with the simple action. All her shots all went wide. It was terrible, and if anything Maximillian only got louder as the day went on. She was covered in the grime of repeated black powder use, her ears rang from the sound and the yelling. It was too much for her. Celeste’s nerve frayed. She needed to get out. Blurting out an excuse about her gun being jammed, she fled to the gunsmith’s shop not waiting for a response. Slamming the door behind her, she slumped down into the cool, dark quiet of the gunsmith’s shop. The overwhelming noise of the firing of her fellow gunners was muffled and was replaced by her racing heart. She breathed in haggardly. ‘Calm down,’ she screamed internally to herself, ‘breathe,’ she tried to command herself. Repeating her mantra over and over until she could get her heart and breathing back under control. As she listened to the thump of her heart, she swore she could hear the steady chop chop chop of the guards beyond the wall cutting wood. The image of Toumas sweating with the effort of his work came unbidden to her mind. She shook her head to clear the image from her mind. ‘What was happening to her,’ she wondered. ‘Who’s that?’ a gravelly voice croaked. Celeste looked up at a broad duardin face. In the dark of the shop, his broad features caught the few beams of light looking like a craggy outcrop. Glinting from his broad head was a set of a dozen lenses of various sizes and styles. The juxtaposition caught Celeste by surprise and she let out a single laugh before catching herself. ‘I’m Celeste,’ she blurted out, ‘an apprentice hand gunner.’ Celeste lifted her handgun towards the duardin cogsmith, as evidence of her claim. ‘Fine work,’ the duardin said. ‘Is there something wrong with it?’ Before Celeste could reply, the duardin jumped off his high stool disappearing from view behind his workbench. Then upbruptly he was in front of Celeste, carefully examining the gun as he flicked through his various lens. Snatching the weapon from Celeste’s hands he turned it over, checking the mechanisms intensely. ‘Good work, good work,’ he said, ‘though that frizzen is a little lose and the hammer could do with some adjusting.’ With that the duardin reached into his tool belt, rooting around for something specific. As he did so the door burst open and Maximillian entered with a shout, ‘there you are girl!’ Before Maximillian could get another word out the duardin was upon him, thrusting the handgun into his waist. ‘What are you doing to my guns!’ The duardin gruffed. ‘Look at this,’ thrusting the gun again into Maximillian’s gut. ‘The frizzen’s loose, the hammer is out of alignment, you are as likely to blow your own head up as anything else, keeping these in good order is my responsibility, what am I to tell the guild, mistreating good iron like that.’ On and on, the duardin went, not letting Maximillian get a word in edgewise and always pushing him roughly to the door. Then Maximillian was gone, the door shut and darkness returned. ‘Now where were we,’ the duardin said, looking once again to the weapon in his meaty hands. Returning to his work bench the duardin hrmphed as he pulled himself up onto his stool, cranking a lever slowly opening a panel in the roof, flooding the workbench with light. He sat hunched over the handgun, fussing intently and murmuring to himself. Now Celeste could see him properly. He had thick light brown hair, pulled back tightly into a pony tail. His craggy features weren’t that lined with age, Celeste thought he almost looked young for a duardin. His beard was tightly braided and tucked neatly into his work apron. His hands were broader than a mans, but worked with a meticulous speed and a dexterity belying their size. All his proportions were off, he was only maybe as tall as Celeste’s waist, but he was broader by far. He was stocky but not fat. Solidly built, like a statue carved from stone. ‘I’m Celeste,’ Celeste squeaked rising to stand and offering the duardin her hand. The duardin stopped, looking up from his work at her. He quickly flicked through a number of lens until Celeste was in focus. ‘I’m Thorpe, journeyman cogsmith, member in good standing of the Hammerhal gunsmith’s guild’ the duardin said before returning to his work. Celeste stood there in shock for a second at his abruptness. She did not want to go back outside to Maximillian and his yelling so she stood there. After a while she began to notice the little details around the gun shop. It was a small space, dominated by the workbench in the middle of the room. Off to one side was a small forge and metal working anvil. Various flasks, tubes and containers were strewn about. Against one wall was a series of glass boxes filled with various materials, roots, tree barks, powders of all colours, quicksilver and even more exotic fair. Celeste wandered over and began looking over them. ‘Are you an alchemist?’ she asked. ‘Alchemist? Pah! I told you I’m a cogsmith! I search the realms uncovering the secrets behind them, I seek to know how Grungni’s great machine ticks.’ Thorpe exclaimed. Gesturing towards the samples around the room Thorpe continued; ‘I search, I examine, I discover, I learn and understand. I take all things down to their smallest parts and I truly know them. Once I know them, I then use them to build something new,’ thrusting the handgun towards her as if to emphasise his point. ‘Oh,’ Celeste trailed off, embarrassed, her eyes returning to study the wall. Then there was a click, a fizz followed by a BANG. Thorpe had triggered the handgun. ‘The black powder that fires this weapon, I make from the tools Grungni has set around us.’ He said hopping down and moving towards the wall of samples. ‘Fire sand from Aqhsy, silver salts from Chamon and a little something from closer to home to give it something to burn,’ he said pointing to a damp ground powder. ‘Charred wormwood?’ Celeste asked. ‘Wormwood... yes actually. You’ve a keen eye little one.’ Thorpe said clearly astonished in her response. ‘Why wormwood?’ Celeste asked without thinking, ‘it’s so dense and wet, I would think it wouldn’t burn well.’ ‘Well what would you suggest,’ Thorpe asked slightly taken aback. ‘Oh, there’s ground Bitterspurt mushrooms, but they’re hard to come by in decent quantities this time of year. How about growing strangle vines? Though they are hard to cut and transport with their poisonous barbs. Stringy haunt wood? It’s light, compacts easily and burns bright and quickly and without much smoke? It repels water too.’ ‘Right.’ Thorpe exclaimed as he practically leapt off his stool. ‘Time to take me to this haunt wood.’ Thorpe grabbed Celeste’s hand practically dragging her outside with him. Celeste was astonished at his iron grip, it was like being held in a vice. Not painful but immovable and inescapable. Dazzled by the light Celeste followed along behind him like a lost puppy. Pausing at the gates from the training yard Thorpe stopped, barely looking back and boomed in his deep duardin voice, ‘I need this one Maxi, I return her when I’m done.’ With that Thorpe and Celeste left. Celeste did not look back.

The brisk morning air stung against Celeste’s blushing skin. Her shoes clacked against the cobbles as she worked her way hurriedly through the sleepy town of Salzburg. Celeste had spent all her life in the little town. Surrounded by the wilds of Ghyran, life was abundant everywhere; bright green moss grew between the cobbles, wild flowers poked their way through cracks in the walls and bird song was ever present in her ears. Others may have called it idyllic, but for Celeste it was boring. Salzburg sat atop a small hill surrounded by green forest. The forests hid the town, making it appear almost by magic as you walked down the northern road. Home to several hundred people, all migrants from Sigmar’s realm of Heazens; Azyr it was in the wilderness of Ghryan by the assent of the realm’s goddess Allarielle. Salzburg was tolerated more than accepted if the guards’ scuttlebutt was to be believed. Allarielle favoured her children, the Sylvaneth, beings of tree and spirit that fostered life in all its growing abundance and defended it with the ferocity of a mother dracoline over the mostly human migrants. The Azyrites were accepted in part due to Sigmar and his Stormcast’s role in liberating the realm from the corrupting touch of Nurgle. As part of this alliance, the City of Hammerhall was founded. It was in Hammerhall’s orbit that the tiny town lay. Several days journey it provided the city with rare lumber and Aqua Ghyranis harvested from the pools and streams in the deep woods around the town. Aqua Ghyranis was both currency and life for the people of Ghyran. It was the lifeblood of the realm, containing the magical essence of life within it. There was no better salve or balm available in all the realms and it was highly sought after. In the centre of Salzburg loomed the great vat. A squat tower and tallest building in the small village. This was where the Aqua Ghyranis was stored before being collected at midsummer and shipped out to Hammerhall and from there to the realms. The “tower” was more of a brass barrel, disproportionally large compared to the sleepy town. At this hour the tower cast a shadow across the square making Celeste shiver as she crossed it. The bell tower chimed again, abruptly rousing Celeste from her day dreams. ‘Damn,’ she said under her breath, Celeste was late. - - - She redoubled her efforts and sped towards the guardhouse with its attached training yard. Bursting through the gate as the third bell chimed she had made it... just. The guardhouse was set against the small ring wall that surrounded the town. The house was a long and low building with a heavy thatched roof. A dirt yard separated the guardhouse from the town demarking the training ground set aside for the guards to practice their profession. The town wall was barely taller than a man, and was dwarfed by the trees surrounding the village. Every day the halberdiers would march out and clear the forest to clear the firing lines for the hand gunners and every night the trees would grow back. This was the struggle of living in the realm of life. More a store and mess room than a guard house it had always seemed adequate enough for the sleepy village Celeste had always thought. Celeste, paused in the entrance to catch her breath. Then before she knew it she was knocked to the dirt by a heavy weight. Grasping out her hands found the hard muscle and thick arms pinning her to the ground. The skin was bared in preparation for a hard day’s work. It took her a split second to realise that she had run into another guard on their way to clear the growth surrounding the town. Celeste began to apologise looking up at her fellow guard. Looking down at her was Toumas, with his piercing green eyes. She and Toumas had been friends growing up though he was a year older than her. They had spent countless hours wandering the glades surrounding Salzburg together lost in their own thoughts and the beauty of the realm. Celeste’s apology stammered in her throat. Toumas untangled himself from Celeste and stood up, offering a hand in aid. Celeste froze and she felt the heat spread across her face and before she could string her apology together he was gone. It was the barely comprehensible cursing of Maximillian shocked her out of her state. Hurriedly she picked herself up and joined the line of other trainee handgunners. Standing in her spot at the end of the line, Celeste wanted to bury herself and hide from her embarrassment. She didn’t know what had come over her. Toumas had changed much in the year he had been part of the guard. The physically demanding nature of his job had hardened his arms and broadened his back and a small patch of dark curly hair had sprouted in the centre of his chest. His brown wavy curls had been cropped short as per the regiment’s regulations though he couldn’t grow a moustache yet as was the fashion of his regiment, his piercing gaze remained. Then Maximillian was directly in front of her screaming into her face. She could smell the fried Hornhecht fish he had for breakfast and see small chunks of it in the spittle that flew from his mouth. She reddened further, redoubling her efforts to shrink into herself. Maximillian was a rotund little man. Well past his middle age, wrinkles and grey hairs ran riot through the shock of black a top his head. Old scars accentuated the roughness of his character along with the coarse stubble on his chins. His uniform, while matching to Celeste’s was faded with age. There were signs of patches and repairs if you looked carefully. Each done with an attention to detail making them blend into the whole. He also wore a hat in a similar style to Celeste’s, though instead of the white feather of an apprentice he wore the long black feather of a master. When it caught the light just right, the feather appeared almost luminous and alive with lustre. Maximillian had been the master marksman and part of the town guard as long as Celeste could remember and he had always been a ******. Celeste froze. She tried to force herself to speak. She was only able to force out a small squeak, her eyes firmly fixed upon the ground at her feet. Long seconds passed as Celeste felt her temperature rising. Then Maximillian thrust her hat into Celeste’s face. It had fallen off when she collided with Toumas and she hadn’t realised it. It was going to be a rough day, Celeste thought. Maximillian was going to make sure of that.

The Painty Men podcast did a bit wondering why there was no warhammer YA fiction. It got stuck in my head so I wrote an intro chapter for Celeste. Happy for peoples thoughts and feedback. CELESTE Waking in Salzburg The light of Hysh peeked over the horizon, outlining the peaked roofs of the sleepy village of Salzburg. The coolness of a new spring hung about the town like a cloak. Salzburg was nestled deep in Ghyran; the Realm of Life. It was a quiet place now. A long time had passed since Chaos was banished and Allarielle was reinstalled as the undisputed ruler of the realm. From the outside you would say it was an idyllic existence. As light peeked in through the window and Celeste rose sleepily, pushing herself up from the crumpled sheets on her bed. She slept in the attic of her family’s small cottage. Seeing her reflection in the old mirror, Celeste sighed. The soot from the previous days training still clung to the corners of her face. She hadn’t had the energy to clean it the night before. Even that grime didn’t hide her straw coloured hair and sharp Azyrite features. Her parents had come to Ghryan and Salzburg shortly after Sigmar’s Stormcast Eternals had freed the realm. She set about pulling her hair into a rough bun, not wanting more cruel comments from her marksmen instructor, Maximillian. Maximillian was a vicious little man, and thinking of him this early in her day would only ruin it so she did her best to put him out of her mind. Growing up she always thought she would apprentice as an alchemist or a teacher, not a guard. She loved to wander the glades around the town when she could, picking through the wide variety of plants available. Exploring fallen logs for rare herbs, or under stones for mushrooms. The small, quiet places fascinated her and she loved to spend long hours wandering bare footed in the fresh grass or laying by streams and brooks, listening to the bird song and other sounds of life surrounding her. If she wasn’t wandering outside in the wilds, she was in her small room reading. Books were piled haphazardly around her. Books on a wide variety of topics as her eclectic interests dictated. She had an intent interest in things that captured her attention, it was just the rest of the things that she couldn’t hold on to. Those seemed to slip from her mind as quickly as they were introduced to her. Avoiding the low beams of her attic bedroom from memory, she crossed the room to the basin of water to wake herself and to try and wash the remaining soot from her face. It had taken her some sixteen years but she had finally mastered waking without banging her head into the beams, she thought to herself proudly. Growing up she had gained a reputation for clumsiness, often wearing the evidence in welts and bruises. It still surprised her that the town guard had taken her on for an apprentice hand gunner. Her parents thought that a recipe for disaster and she thought her trainer agreed. The town’s bell tower chimed and Celeste was already running late. Running down the stairs from her room, she pulled on her hose and puffed doublet as she went. Heading straight for the door pushing on it to leave. It was her third day as part of the town’s guard and she can’t be late. ‘Forgetting something,’ her mother asked from the table. Celeste stopped in the doorway, turning to face the floppy hat her mother was proffering towards her. It was new, puffed and coloured in the style of her regiment with a small stubby white feather tucked into the brim. The cap she loved, bright blue and gold, made from soft felt and satin. The feather, the sign of her rank as apprentice, she did not love. Blushing at her forgetfulness, she snatched up the offered hat and turned to leave once again. She surely would have received another verbal thrashing from Maximillian if she had forgotten her cap. ‘Love you,’ her mother called out. Celeste paused in the doorway for a split second, mumbling her reply and then burst out into the morning air.