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Fiction Blood for the Blood God

Discussion in 'Fluff and Stories' started by Killer Angel, Jun 14, 2017.

  1. Killer Angel
    Slann

    Killer Angel Prophet of the Stars Staff Member

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    Blood for the Blood God

    The massive axe opened a large hole through the ranks of the Skinks, then Grinnorarcen closed in and delivered another swing, taking down more opponents.

    Of all Sigmar’s armies, Seraphon were one of the most unsatisfying enemy… every kill produces just a flash of painful light, and the corpse disappears. No skulls for the Skull Throne, no blood for the Blood God, no screams for fear or mercy, just ranks upon ranks of puppets, sent into battle by their lazy Frog-Master, hidden behind some rock.

    A worthless foe, that spoils the fun of battling and killing.

    The red Daemon roared with fury and the champion of the next regiment took the challenge. It didn’t last the blink of an eye. How was it possible that there was not a single worthy opponent?
    He was full with frustration… “STOP SUMMONING FRAIL GHOSTS! I WANT TO FIGHT!!!”
    In this conditions, Grinnorarcen was not able to be fully embraced by the blind fury of the sheer battle, so he took a moment to see how the fight was going.
    His army was advancing as expected, crushing all resistance, except…

    On the right wing, something had halted the run of the Bloodcrushers.

    Grinnorarcen focused on the distant fight and he saw a large unit of Knights on small dinosaurs, armed with blazing spears, that just cut in two the front line, halting the Juggernauts’ momentum and turning them into prey for the falchions of the following two-legged crocodiles.
    They were led by a Saurus, mounted on a Carnosaur, bearing the insignia of some constellation… so the Frog must have sent some memory of a past hero, to act as leader of this army. With some luck, that general could be one of the rare, ancient Sauri still alive.

    Grinnorarcen growled with satisfaction. Ghost or living flesh, at least there would have been one good fight.
    The Daemon turned to the mechanical work of cutting down chaffs upon chaffs… the task was so unexciting that he decided to keep an eye on the enemy on his right. But the charge had raised a large cloud of dust, that even his enhanced sight could not pierce.
    And when the dust cleared, it wasn’t there.
    How was that possible? The right wing was the only place where the combat was going bad for the follower of Khorne. The Saurus commander should have been there, to support the fight and enjoy the massacre.

    Grinnorarcen was still looking for his foe, when a cry of alarm called his attention… something was happening on the left wing. Grinnorarcen recognized the banner, and the gore splattered Carnosaur.
    Fast as the wind, their general must have moved behind the frontline, followed by the cold ones, and now they were turning the combat on the other side of the battlefield. As land sharks, the Knights were slipping between the blocks of the Bloodletters, taking the toll with their lances, too fast to be chased by the demonic infantries… and the standards of the Saurus Guards, were now approaching the disrupted ranks.

    Grinnorarcen grinned. “you are a smart guy, aren’t you? You stopped our wings, so only our center will advance, and your army will close upon us as a pincer. The problem is: are you sure this morsel isn’t too hard to swallow?”.

    The bulky Daemon now was confident that his enemy would have come for him, so he continued his personal one-way fight; the massive muscles were covered by sweat, mixed with sand… the blood of the enemies normally would have washed away his body, triggering the Fury, but against Seraphon it was not possible; Grinnorarcen could not rage, and so he studied the approaching Saurus Hero that was now afoot.

    In combat, Grinnoraren was pure fury, and every one of his blows carried an excessive amount of sheer power. Grinnorarcen’s style was not the killing, but the onslaught.

    The Saurus was elegance incarnate.

    He was armed with a sort of war-mace, surmounted by a skull… an enemy attacks, the Saurus feints, the mace comes down. An enemy attacks, the Saurus parries, the mace comes down. And so on.
    Each time with a different manoveur, each time with the minimal effort to cut down the opponent. No one was able to stop him, it was like watching a deadly dance, a disciplined warhound between sheep.

    To see his enemy approaching, covered by blood and swirling a weapon made by a grinning skull, was definitely a strange sight for Grinnorarcen. “it should be the opposite. This is wrong, and I will stop it right now.

    With a crack of the whip and a mighty roar, Grinnorarcen announced the challenge, and the lesser Daemons created a circle, to watch the fight of the two Champions.
    Both were slowly advancing, with the Saurus being cautious, knowing the large Daemon would have gained the first strike, thanks to its superior reach.

    And Grinnorarcen knew what he was going to do. Against that kind of opponent, a tactic that never failed him, was to sweep the field with the whip, forcing the opponent to be entangled by the lash, or jump to avoid it… meeting the battleaxe midair, with no chance to dodge.
    And so he did when the Saurus rushed forward.
    As planned, the fool jumped to avoid the whip… but he deliberately left the tail down. The coiled tail slowed down the jump, and the axe swung just above the curled up target, missing it by few inches.
    Grinnorarcen was caught off guard, and the mace came down.

    Time almost froze… as in slow motion, an amazed Grinnorarcen contemplated the skull upon the mace, aiming for his head. The syllables of the spell that would have diverted the blow were rolling upon the Daemon’s tongue.
    The skull of the mace was nearer, its eyes fixed upon him.
    The urge to cast the defensive spell was almost overwhelming.
    Time flew again. The mace crushed into Grinnorarcen’s head, felling the Daemon to the ground.

    Grinnorarcen’s brain was bleeding. The Daemon looked at the opponent, standing in front of him.
    “In more than a thousand years of battle against Sigmarites, you were the first… you truly please Khorne. Wipe my army, take skulls for the Throne, blood for the Blood God. May this day be a magnificent offering.”

    The mace landed the final blow.
    The Oldblood looked at the dead Daemon with contempt. “Old Ones be praised”.


    Man Vs Self / Inner Conflict

    Well, that’s the main point of the story. Usually Daemons of Khorne are pretty much streamlined, with no characterization other than “rhaarrrghkillkillkill”.
    I’ve tried to imagine a different angle. What kind of inner conflict could ever have a greater Daemon, voted to onslaught and massacre?
    Well, what could happen when you realize that you are not doing the job “good”, and you see that your enemy is doing it better?
    When Khorne is pleased by wanton massacre and wants BLOOD to calm its insatiable thirst, will it matter who’s the one doing it?
    The story tells what could happen, when your urge to kill and slay the enemy, conflicts with the desire to please your God.
    Obviously, I needed to set the story in Age of Sigmar setting, when lizardmen are now Seraphon, summoned beings made from the starlight, so they leave no blood or bones when they die.


    Cold Blooded Honor

    In my mind it’s probably a lesser theme in the story, but it’s still there (but, as testified by other comments, you can see it in numerous ways).
    The "honor" of the Daemon and its last desire, was to please his God, putting his life behind the “wellness” of Khorne.
    But the cold blooded homor applies even more to the Oldblood (be it a ghost and even more if it's a still living saurus). In AoS, the Old Ones are no more, but he shows that he remains faithful to his memories of the Old World: he doesn’t care about Sigmar, neither about the great Order Allegiance. He’s still the champion of the Old Gods, because that’s how it must be.



    I'm always happy when thedarkfourth likes one of my stories. :)
    Yeah, I was tempted to expand the lizard character... but imo the story was centered about the daemon; or i go for the double route, giving almost the same depth to both the antagonists, or i focus on one, and the daemon's pov was what interested me. I feared that another phrase dedicated to the feelings of the Oldblood, would have been "out of place", because it would have diverted the last part of the story from the climax, that was Grinnorarcen's sacrifice.


    This is a perfect example of what I was talking about.
    I thought the story was more "inner conflict" than "cold blooded honor", and here we have Scalenex with a totally different impression.
    Well, a story with just one way to be seen, it's not an interesting story... ;)


    Three reviews, and three readers that found a sympathetic connection with a Greater Daemon of Khorne (!), which was basically the real challenge i decided to confront myself with.
    Mission accomplished, I'd say... :)
     
  2. Scalenex
    Slann

    Scalenex Keeper of the Indexes Staff Member

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    Well I voted for your piece (and the "The Knife" and "Heartbeats"). Anyway, you did well. You threaded the line between alienness and relateability and managed to hit on Man Versus Self well, then closed with Coldblooded honor.

    Mission accomplished indeed
     
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