Thread: They Who Thirst (Dr. Nibbles & SomethingEsoteric)

Brilliant beams of light warmed my face, fingers, tiny as they were raking through the buds of barley stalks I never could have reached without my father, or who I assume looking back on it now was. He would lift me to his shoulders laughing with mirth as I giggled in return taking handfuls of the dried grain, grinding them between my palms and throwing them up in the air around us to be caught in the wind like so many little glimmers of confetti and rice, imagining we were the guests of honor of some grand illustrious ball for the heroine, for me, every lord and lady of the land in attendance. She had such high hopes then, now she had faith. I did not know it at the time of course, just a babe barely from her mothers breast but that brilliance, warming our faces and growing our stocks tall and proud toward the sky, that was Sigmars grace smiling back at us for our piety. Hilde could remember quite clearly, smiling at the young boy as she spoke though just as clearly she recalled just how tired shed been, how down trodden her frame must have appeared. Her heart, faith and mind had been willing but her body weak. She was sure the boy saw it too sure the boy knew just how warn thin the Paladin must have been after an ordeal like that theyd been through. Not unlike your city, our township was thrown into darkness by the machinations of chaos. It was not a dragon, nor a murder of bandits, worse still the TagothUr no, plague ravished our lands like Nurgle his self did touch every man woman and child. Our wells became feted, our crops withered down to darkened husks not even the mongrels dared to eat. Many ventured to new pastures, others stood for their homesteads, bundled around the hearth waiting for black clouds to pass. My family all contracted the blight, skin wrought with boils and legions most foul. just when things were at their darkest, and we thought things could not possibly become any more dire than they had the light returned. Shed given a long hitched sigh, lacking the proper zeal or condition to motivate whomever had the presence of mind to listen though her presence alone seemed to have been a boon on their sorry states, whoever was not too battered or broken by the TagothUrs attack and the beasts that followed to consume the carrion left behind. With a deep breath, shed steeled herself and raised her face to the sky pensively, then back to the boy. Men wrapped in bright cloth with kind faces and brass idols hanging from their necks and reliefs the same on their brilliant steely armour, they marched into our township, the canopy of darkness above pierced, men and women of The Empire, Warior priests with healing hands they cured the diseased, purified our wells, blessed our crops so that they once again could grow tall and free- What the boy had interjected would stop her in her tracks, a brief falter and a bur in her heart Well thats great for you but what about us? Look around you! What is the point? What can one woman do for us? he was far too grown for his far too few years on this plane, once bright face tarnished with smeared soot and blood. Hilde had shook her head, brows furrowing, shed probably not been so welcoming of the men and women that had saved her and attempted to save her family, shed probably been lost and scared and wanting retribution far before recovery. The point is, young man, shed said, reaching into the tunic she wore atop a shirt of metal scales I have come, and with me, I bring Sigmars grace unto you, The Empires word is bond. from which she pulled a small roll of paper, took one of the boys hands in her own and placed the roll inside, a tract, closing his small fingers around it. The point, is not what one woman can do for your people, but what Sigmar, and The Empire can do for us all. Sigmar could do much, Sigmar could do all. Sigmar empowered to those who pledged faith in piety she was sure and while it had not been the first day atop a great escarpment, in a priory to her lord, Hilde had accepted her fate, her destiny, a path of pilgrimage in his name. Shed spent her youth and early teenage years, high above the lands of squalor and sin, only a vicarious member of the world. The world Hilde lived within, cobblestone, old linen, stained glass and dusty yellowed pages, thick leather and iron bound books, scrolls so ravaged by time simpler men would fear unrolling them should they disintegrate between daft fingers. Shed learnt much of her deity and his followers, of the Empire, much of heroes and villains, of Ghal-Maraz and Kurgan Iron Beard, shed learned the love a man of the cloth could hold not only for scripture but for wine, women and song, for honey, barley, freshly washed and dried linens and modestly made though indulgently enjoyed perfumed soaps and crackling fires all within reason and restraint of course, but indulged in no less. Beyond this lavish of sorts however, she had also learned just how how stagnant such a world could become. She enjoyed helping people, or the idea of, she felt proud of their cause, proud they could help those who did not know how to help themselves she wanted more, pined for more, for a more active role, for the results of her service directly before her, Hilde wanted to do her part! she wanted the same glory, the same sacrifice, she wanted to taste the heat of battle and feel the supreme gift to live and die by honour, by service to Sigmar and The Empire. Tales and litanies sung by heralds filled her with a want for adventure, a want for her name and her deeds to spill off the lips and from the hearts of men and women an ambitious want, hubris no less, but where her mind could be foolish her heart and soul not entirely pure, her faith if tested not true as she would implicitly believe. Or so, Cruven had told her her mentor, the man whod promised her he would ascend and train her from a scribes assistant to squire and in time, much time, like he a Paladin of Sigmar. Were one to ask, Hilde may not have been able to accurately give a measure of time that had passed since that day, since she left the sterile safety of her leather bound world, she could not say how many cold nights shed spent in bedrolls where was fire not given to bright the surroundings or warm her pallid skin, were one to ask she would not say just how much at times she missed those walls she once felt a prison, nor would she tell of the solace in what few memories of her life before blight struck the planes of her first home, her birthplace, she could not tell of how many faces shed seen smeared with soot, how many farmsteads shed seen burnt to the ground, the groans of agony and septic stench of death. She could, however, tell of the day when she no longer felt the harsh bite of elements, cold of winter or sweltering heat, tell of the day her blade struck true and javelins soared unwavering, tell of the day she learned how to heal both wounds of the spirit and body, she could tell when she was no longer Hilde the Squire and when Cruven had deemed her Hilde the Paladin. Cruven would not live long passed that day, would not live to see her doing as he would have her do, as the brilliance shed felt as a child decided she must. He had felt the wrath of a TagothUr battle-axe and not survived to tell of the tale, the very same wrath that had left a trail of scorched earth, blood and sorrow shed followed since that dark day forever cauterized into the forefront of her mind. Duty decided she could never quite face them as shed vowed that day, she was always just behind, only ever seeing the destruction they left, healing what men and children she could, women rare left behind save the old and withered, giving her blessings, handing out tracts of Sigmar and slaying those who would take advantage of the shattered townships. today however, she was close, closer than shed ever been, close enough to feel their howls and celebrations in blood and rape resonating across the plane, making the dust at her heels dance and quiver frightfully as if the whole country side were a skin pulled tight over their drums of war and deep inside, she did too quiver with the dust. It had been a sheer stroke of luck and one that staunched her deepest doubts each and every time the tapestry of her tales unfurled just a little further and the band of TagothUr slipped out of her reach she did not possess the strength to fight them really she was like a mongrel chasing a chariot shed never know what to do with it if she caught up! Standing atop an escarpment with a winding road leading toward the city theyd sacked barely a suns trek away she closed her eyes and hung her head in prayer, was this her deitys path for her? Was she to triumph beyond all odds or die in sacrifice to inspire more to take up arms? Sigmars will does not lead where his fervor cannot raze Hilde, never forget that. an old mans words echoed through her mind she hadnt much choice now. Steeling herself yet again she ringed hands, the leather palms of her chain and metal-scale gauntlets rubbing together to produce a sound only strained dry leather could. It had been far too long shed waited for this day, far too long to turn back now. My good blade carves the casques of men, my tough lance thrusteth sure, my strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure the auburn haired woman whispered before continuing with even pace toward certain death.