The Dark Destroyers
By Jon Garrad
The two mountain trappers leered in a most grotesque
fashion. They had cornered a pretty Elven girl, dressed in close - fitting
black, with a crossbow over one shoulder and a slender scabbard hanging at her
side. Heinrich grinned as he held her arms behind her back while Dieter’s
vile, beery breath steamed out over the poor unfortunate. As his lips moved ever
closer to hers the tavern door was opened with extreme force and Dieter saw his
friend’s face turn a somewhat unpleasant shade of green. The next thing he
knew, he had been whirled around by an incredibly strong arm and was looking
into the impassive visage of a horned helmet. The helmet’s eyes glowed a dull
red and the sound of a demented laugh echoed from between the two spikes on
either side of the wearer’s mouth guard.
“The
first one of you two to hurt the Elf dies instantly. Then I’ll kill the other
one, just for luck.” The Chaos Warrior’s rasping voice was quiet for such an
imposing man, but held an air of barely controlled anger.
“Err
– listen, friend, me an’ Heinrich here didn’t mean any harm, um, sir?”
gibbered Dieter, his voice tailing off into silence at the end. “We was only
foolin’”
“I
dare say you were. What’s up with your friend? Seems to me he’s a mite
ill.”
“W-w-with
all due respect, sir, that’s ‘cos he’s scared out of his mind, sir”
“Ahh…
I see. Two to one seemed like fair odds against Khe’rai here-” he nodded
towards the Elven girl who was watching the proceedings with a smile appearing
on her fine ascetic face. “And yet as soon as I turn up, axe thirsting for
blood, you go all soft. GET OUT! I’ll not waste my effort on scum like you.”
Without waiting for any further encouragement, the two
trappers scurried for the door, only to find it slammed into their faces. An
oddly mismatched pair strolled into the smoke of the Old Dragon’s Tooth Inn.
The first one, marching toward the door with an air of stolid determination was
a Dwarf – four feet high, black-bearded and carrying a large hammer bedecked
with runes. The second was human, clad in a long and somewhat tattered black
robe with all manner of curious amulets, skulls and pouches hanging from his
belt, and leaning on a staff of some scorched black wood.
“Ah,
Arkhan, I see you found the inn!” said the human.
“As
usual, ‘e gets all the fun before me” the Dwarf added in tones of granite.
“And
who are your fine friends here, who I must admit seem in a mighty big hurry to
get out, hmm?” the man added, glowering at Dieter and Heinrich over the top of
his spectacles.
“These
two lads” rasped Arkhan, Champion of Khorne and leader of that renowned
reverse adventuring group, the Dark Destroyers, “These two lads here were
trying to take advantage of a certain young lady of our acquaintance.” He
stepped aside to reveal Khe’rai, who was by now trying not to laugh.
“So
they were after a bit of Elf, eh? Can’t say I blame them. You’ve been
keeping her to yourself all these years – UNF!” The Necromancer, Klaus von
Gerhardt, was cut off in mid-sentence by a steely Dwarfish fist.
“Enough
talkin’. Let’s get ‘em!”
As the other three Destroyers moved into action, Khe’rai
started doing something rather odd. She began to slam her head into the bar,
rhythmically thumping the back of it with a clenched fist. Three hours they’d
been back in civilisation, and already the others were ruining it…
At this point, I believe the reader may require a little information. All over the Old World, various groups of mercenary types who spend half their lives crusading in some stinking dungeon, ridding the world of evil, pursue their lucrative trade. The integral balance of the world, therefore, calls for the existence of a group of warriors who will, like every other, rise to fight in the final battle. Only this particular group, due to the need for balance, would be on the other side. They were the Dark Destroyers, a team of four hard-bitten mercenaries whose destiny it was to join the dungeoneering trade from the other side’s point of view. No dungeon complex was safe from them, no defence could protect against them – they were chosen to fight back for the cause of Chaos.
Arkhan, the Chaos Warrior. Chosen by his gods to do battle in their name, the bitter and twisted one had once commanded a full army of Chaos Marauders, until they were wiped out by a bunch of Wood Elves and their Bretonnian allies at the Battle of the Withered Heath.
Gorath, the Chaos Dwarf. Banished from his clan after an unfortunate incident in which the drunken Gorath had smashed a hole in the pens of Gorgoth, allowing many Goblin slaves to escape. Since then, this diminutive warrior had wandered the Old World, squabbling and boozing, seeking for something to give shape to his life.
Klaus, the not-quite-necromancer, had been kicked out of the College of Magic for attempting daemon-summoning and/or summoning of the restless dead (not that the Imperial Courts cared which). Evading the witch hunters sent after him, the wily wizard had encountered the Destroyers in Carroburg and had joined up for the sheer hell of it. Besides, Arkhan’s mighty chopper was the only thing saving him from being incinerated by the Witch Hunters.
Khe’rai was the odd one out. A beautiful Dark Elven warrior, swift, graceful, agile, a crackshot crossbowwoman – and left behind in the Empire after the abortive Battle of Big Wotcer, in which her unit and their Orc allies had been ambushed by a band of Empire scouts and shot to hell.. She hung around with the Destroyers, quite basically because she liked a bit of roughness in her life – and anyway, they were great company. Right – now on with the story…
When the sounds of
fighting had ceased (a process taking just over thirty seconds), old Karl the
barman peered out from his hiding place behind the bar.. Dieter lay in a heap on
the floor, mumbling something like the fnotlin’ fondlin’ bafturds, while
Heinrich was stretched over the door, totally unconscious and bleeding around
the nasal area. Meanwhile, the Dark Destroyers were clustered round one of the
tables, reading something off a tattered parchment. Klaus’ head emerged
briefly to bellow
“Oi!
Karl! What about some food for your most loyal customers!”
His comment was followed
by a statement in the gravely Dwarfish voice of Gorath.
“And
BEER! Lots of it, as well. I’m as parched as a Goblin’s nadgers.”
“I’ll
take your word for that,” Khe’rai murmured, before raising her voice again
to ask; “So what’s all this about a job, Klaus?”
“Well,
I’ve found this pinned up in the town square. It’s a note from some chap
called Jurgen Muntz…”
“Jurgen
Muntz?!?” Gorath exclaimed in tones of utter amazement. “Jurgen Muntz? I’d
rather ‘ave me feet cut off than work for Muntz. That stinkin’ bandit never
pays up on time, an’ ‘e never gets anyone a straight fight. All that bloke
ever robs is ole women an’ Gobbos.” The Chaos Dwarf finished by slamming his
fist into the table, creating a large dent in the woodwork.
“That’s
as may be, but did you see the clause? PAYMENT IN ADVANCE! Do you realise, this
means the end of all our money problems.”
“AHEM!”
Arkhan’s massive cough shattered the already fraught nerves of Karl the
barman, who had been walking up behind him carrying a tray, on which were three
pint mugs and two wine glasses. “What the hell does he actually want us to
do?”
“It’s pretty simple
really. He wants us to join his mercenary caravan. They’re going north looking
for a few Kislevite villages to burn and they want some decent warriors to help
them out.”
“Burning
villages! Burning damned villages! I need to fight! If I don’t get to fight
I’ll kill him!”
Khe’rai,
meanwhile, had leant over behind Arkhan. As his temper rapidly expanded, ready
for the ensuing explosion, she did something to the Chaos Warrior. That
something, whatever it had been, forced Arkhan to sit down verrrrry carefully.
The Chaos Warrior looked up.
“Fine,
fine, I’m in. Just so long as she comes too,” he said, reaching around
behind his back and dislodging the crossbow bolt Khe’rai had stabbed him with.
“Why
not?” Khe’rai said with a smile. “I take it we don’t have to walk.”
“Oh
deary deary me no, they wouldn’t make us walk, now would they?” said Klaus.
“We deserve better than that. We, madam, are getting bed, board and
carriage.”
“If
it means we don’t ‘ave to walk all the way to the flippin’ Troll Country,
I’m in. Just so long as I gets paid at the end of it. I’ve been conned by
Muntz before…” And by the time Gorath’s rant had finished, the others had
been and gone, leaving the Dwarf to fit the bill.
“Come
back, you snotlin’ fondlers! COME BACK!” the Chaos Dwarf bellowed as he ran
out of the door, stunning Karl with a well-hurled handful of gold coins.
The Dark Destroyers were
back.
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