NOVEL NEXT 64
Back in Laurelorn, the forest floor slowly turns into marshes. Filled with putrid, slopping, rotting mixture of all what was plants and animals. Dense fog filled with unbearable stench obscure visions and other senses. Kal led his army of other bestigors and razorgor riders numbered 1500 across the marsh. Their target is a small Eonir town near the eastern outskirt of Laurelorn that was once used as a trading hub between them and Nordland. They are to occupy it whether it has fallen to the Nurgle hands or not. While Dorn and those left at the main camp erect a makeshift fort, this already walled town will help in containing Nurgle from expanding eastward. As for the reason they go there through Laurelon and not circle from the outside is to test their endurance within the forest toxic atmosphere and also to see what threats lie ahead. Another is to not risk being seen by Nordland and add even more factions to the mix.
The waist high marsh they trod was apparently once a lake. Though no doubt the marsh has hugely expanded in size compared to the lake. Then there’s the faint roar and gurgling sound at the back. Immediately Kal roars his command for defensive positions as a Plaguebearer springs from below the marsh water. Its one eye pierced by his spear, killed and swiftly disappeared. Only for four more jumps from the water and target him. Another cleaved by the swing of his spear, one manages to grab his left arm and pulls down only to be thrown away from Kal’s sheer strength after his ascension. The other two Plaguebearers resort to pulling the razorgor he rides down. For the Razorgor that needs to lift its head up so that its head is not submerged, thrashed around in panic which led it to be dragged down the marsh.
Jumping from his razorgor, Kal strikes at another Plaguebearer with his spear and kills it instantly. While Kal’s soulforged artifact allows him to easily kill the Nurgle daemons, the rest of the herd are not as they struggle to kill even one in this unfavorable terrain. The fog obscures his vision as Kal helps those around him. He tries to roar to command his herd but the constant sound from the bells carried by the Plaguebearers disrupt his own roar.
The golden beastmen too are hard pressed by the Plaguebearers. Many are pulled down by the Plaguebearers as they try to drown them. Their axes fail to deal a proper wound to the already rotting and bloated Nurgle daemons. The battle between them reduced to grappling and clawing and biting. A Plaguebearer has its head bitten off, spurting much noxious blood to the beastmen, another beastmen drowned, while Kal moves to save as many as he can. By the time the Plaguebearers' assault ends and they leave the marsh, more than a third of his war army is gone. Kal knew the risk of ambush, he had arranged his 1500 beastmen in a quite dense formation to reduce the distance between ambush points and still a third was gone. Much more than he anticipated. Then he continues forward to the destination, the plan must succeed.
—
Back in Sanctuary, both Valariels sat across from each other. The Daemon explains the best she can to the elf.
“So this is all just a game?”
“Yes.” answered the daemon
“With dice rolling to determine all the outcome?”
“In a sense.”
Both then stay silent for a while as the elf thinks.
“You said dice are rolled when someone is born. Do you-”
“No, I did not roll any dice in your creation and make you myself.” I said truthfully to her as I did not roll anything on her creation
“Then, about Tyrion being my father.”
“That was the circumstance on how I made you. Your mother, make plenty of dealings until she comes to me to make sure she is pregnant with you.” I said part of the backstory I created for her.
“Does this mean everyone else is?”
“No, only a select few. It's complicated, and now that I am here, I don’t know for sure.”
Then Valariel began to think again. The implication that her entire life before I possess her body is just a game.
“Then-then, that time. With the- the minotaur and that boy?”
“Yes.” The first session where her entire life went downhill. The human boy that supposed to be her guide is brutally crushed in front of her and the minotaur rape her for a long time.
“I need to be alone.” I immediately stood as soon as she said that. The fact that the daemon she decided to trust might have used her in the past for entertainment is no doubt hard to process. Then I look at the three circular windows that connect to the effigies the halflings make.
“If you want to come outside again. I can arrange something.” I said before leaving the sanctuary. Returning to my body, I immediately set out to monitor the progression against Nurgle.
—
Back in Nordland. Just at the east side of Laurelorn, are having their own trouble. Their coastline under the constant threat of Norscan raiders have made them hardy people and equally ferocious warriors. This however does not help them prepare against the sudden increase in the intrusion of unbound daemons. This of course is due to the increase of magic in the world.
“Where the fuck did all these daemons come from!? This is not northern Kislev!” a huge cavalrymen loudly complained.
“Shut yer trap! You don’t wanna bit-” Their captain warns before he himself bit his tongue. The dozen men under his command laughs before being cut short by the shrieks of Bloodletters. These thirteen men are sent by the Elector Count of Nordland, Wesner Nike, to ask Middenland for reinforcement. While their coastal cities have high walls and are well protected, everything in between the capital and the coastal cities are at risk. They spur their horses to run as fast as they can. But Nordland horses are not bred for speed but endurance to trek the heavily snowy and cold province.
Four Bloodletters, slowly but surely catching up to them. Four cavalrymen slowed their horses to at least make some time for the rest. The bloodletters finally catch up to the rearguard. As the bloodletters swing their daemonic swords, a bright light flares. Turning the snowy white world whiter and banishing the daemons. The cavalrymen stopped in front of a Hierophant/Light wizard’s horse. The blinding glow gradually subsides, revealing a young girl, no older than 15. Wearing the traditional white robes, although all colors have been washed clean from her, with her hair, eyes, and skin pure white like porcelain.
