Stories are told across the entire world. Myths of legend and tales of heroism, this however is not one of those tales. It's another kind of story, the kind that make children quiver in the night. Most stories of this kind have some hidden meaning, some purpose to develop and reinforce lessons. Lessions that are to be learned as we move from children to adults. But sometimes, just sometimes they are real as flesh and bone...
The nervous Nobel raced for his house, he was panting uncontrollably, and his steed was doing the same. He looked to his two guards, they galloped just behind him. "What was it?" he thought. He had seen something, it was fast and deadly. He brought his eyes to the road in front of him, branches of trees blocked his vision. Suddenly a horse’s scream made him look back; now only one mounted guard was following. “We’re close!" the Nobel yelled as he recognized a small pond that was just outside his estate. "Ahhhhh." The yell heeded no response. He turned his head back again, and saw that he now traveled alone. He saw the gate to his keep, and screamed for the horse to run faster as he pounded on the back of its neck with his clenched fists. He blew past the gates quickly dismounting and jolting for the door. The whole time screaming "It's out there, It's coming for me!". Three gate guards quickly closed the gates and barred them with heavy logs. The Nobel made his way inside and ran up stairs to his master quarters. He grabbed his family’s sword and hid behind his bed. For a few moments he heard nothing except for the rapid beat of his hert. Then a loud noise was heard coming from outside. The man was thinking of all the horrible possibilities it could be. What could be after him? Some massive chaos creature? Or a horde of daemons? A vampire? The man’s head began to pound as his heart rate excelled and adrenaline took over.When he heards another noise, this time a thud from downstairs. He noticed from the light protruding under the door that something was just outside the bedroom. He clenched his sword tighter and whispered a quick prayer to Sigmar. The door swung open, a haunting silhouette of a slender figure standing around five foot five was in the doorway. The man stumbled over himself coming out of hiding. His look was of surprise as he looked up, he expected some massive chaos warrior and what he was seeing could have been a mere child or a girl. The figure came closer, and the man came to his feet quickly taking an attack posture.
The Nobel asked “ What are y egggah..?”
Before he could finish his sentence the figure was standing beside him holding a curved dagger that was stuck in the man’s gut. His hands reached out and grabbed the figures head and ripped of a black cloth mask just before he fell to the ground. It was women’s face, he recognized her. She was a foreign cathaian prostitute that he had hired for a political gathering a few days ago. He tried to speak but couldn’t, only a mumble as blood spilled forth from his mouth and ran down his face.
The Nobel laid dying as soft soothing voice came to his ear.
“Do not fight death… you will pass quickly…. I'am actually jealous of your path.”
The man’s eyes widened, his final thoughts indescribable. He pushed out a few last words.
“ Sigmar save me.”
The soft voice came again taunting the man.
“No… Not quite, you will only be meeting my god in the underworld.”
As the life left the man’s body she performed a quick ritual called “Deaths Stare” to pay homage to the keeper of the death realm. Then as a personal mark like a calling card she cut out the victims tongue and placed an Oriental coin in his mouth.
Fluff sounds interesting though.