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princevolker2788 · 6 years

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(Vermintide Fanfic Chapter 1) Life for Life, Death for Death, Love for Love

@xavirne

Hello everyone, this is my first post in over a year, and I apologize for that. I'm pleased to say that I just recently graduated from college.

Besides that though, I've had this story running around in my head for a few months.

If it wasn't obvious, I've fallen into the Warhammer hole, specifically concerning the Sisters of Battle in Warhammer 40K and the Wood Elves in Warhammer Fantasy, or as its known now: Warhammer: Age of Sigmar.

A little terminology for the uninitiated:

Slaanesh is the deamon lord of gluttony, excess, and pleasure in the world of Warhammer Fantasy. His primary desire is to consume as many elven souls as possible. Which is pretty much guaranteed unless an elf dies near a magical gem known as a waystone.

Upon death, an elf’s soul will enter the gem and act as a barrier against deamon intrusion into their cities.

This story focuses around two characters in the video game Warhammer: Vermintide II: that of the Human Mercenary Markus Kruber and the Wood Elf Waystalker Kerillian. I hope you all enjoy my little indulgent fic about my two favorite rat slayers bonding... and maybe something more.

Kerillian tapped her fingers against the wood of her bow in anticipation. Lorner had promised a horde of ratmen en route to a convoy of food supplies. The problem was that they’d been waiting for an hour in torrential rain that would make the citizens of Stromdorf gawp, and the ratmen hadn’t arrived.

“Can barely feel my toes…” muttered Kruber.

“Then maybe you should have brought better boots,” snapped Kerillian.

Though she would never admit it, she could feel the cold seep into her bones, along with the lack of feeling spreading to her fingertips.

“No need to be snippy, elf.”

She rolled her eyes and inspected a single arrow, wouldn’t do to miss a kill due to sub par equipment.

“Stop complaining, food comes to the quickest!”

The elf snapped her fingers and pointed to the edge of the trail. Kruber, Saltzpyre and Bardin nodded as they prepped their weapons. She prayed this wouldn’t take long, a good fire and a long nap would be much appreciated at this point.

Kerillian drew the string to her cheek and steadied her breath. Wouldn’t be long now, their foul stench wafted through the air like a globadiers poisons.

A furry muzzle poked its way into view and she released. She smirked under her mask as it struck home and pinned another rat to a tree trunk.

With this complete she unslung the glaive from her shoulder and leapt off the fallen tree she’d been balancing on, arching the blade high in the sky as she brought it down on a stormvermin’s skull with a satisfying chunk. Surprised squeaks and yelps filled the air as her compatriots followed suit, Kruber and Bardin swept the front ranks with crushing blows, while Kerillian and Saltzpyre tore through the center ranks, slipping under the arms of the lesser vermin with brutal efficiency.

She heard a familiar hiss and a pop as a blaze of warpfire tore the left flank of the Skaven apart. The elf dove behind a nearby tree, wincing as one of the warp infused bullets scraped her side.

“Gunners targeting me!” She shouted.

“Got our own problems wutelgi!”

Kerillian swore under her breath as her cover was bisected by a stormvermin great sword. They were learning, adapting to their particular method of fighting. Well, she didn’t become a waystalker to be taken out by a simple grunt.

The elf spun around the trunk and brought the glaive into the ratman’s side. As it reeled, she took a single step back and cleaved its head from its shoulders. Foul brackish blood splattered against the forest floor. Satisfied, Kerillian dove into the underbrush as the ratling gunner adjusted its fire. Thankfully its reactions were slower than the mayflies or she’d have been torn apart long ago.

Skaven bodies littered the ground around her, making it much easier for her to creep up on the unsuspecting beast. It kept firing at her last known position, ignoring her compatriots with a fervor she hadn’t expected.

Does it hate me I wonder?

The thing barely had time to contemplate its next move before she dug her blade deep into its spine. It let out a shriek of fury as it swung around, tearing the polearm from her grasp. Kerillian growled as she drew two arrows back and let them fly. Only one struck its intended target, but it was enough to make the rat beast pause.

“Burn in hell!”

Just as she drew a third arrow to finish the job, a spear impacted the ground by her feet, forcing her to step aside as a veritable wave of Skaven swarmed up the hill on her right.

“Pull back!” Shouted Bardin, “Its not worth the trouble!”

Kerillian scoffed as she made her way to the rest of the group, firing at any rat that got too close for comfort.

As the vermin fell, so too did she into her familiar battle trance, like in Ubersreik when it had just been the five of them in the streets, each member of their little group working in tandem.

But they had failed, and now the Reikland burned.

“No more,” she muttered.

She let one more arrow loose and scuttled up the rock outcropping they had agreed on as their final stand. Kruber’s gauntleted hand clasped her wrist and tugged, giving her enough momentum to flip onto the rockface and resume firing. He took up position behind her, swinging out at the horde that roiled and fumed with fury beneath them.

“Still cold mayfly?”

“No, pissed off more like.”

Kerillian snorted and spun around to cut down an Eshin assassin before it could leap onto the mercenary.

“Keep your eyes open.”

Kruber grunted as he drove his Zweihander deep into the neck of a stormvermin stupid enough to expose itself. Bardin let out a triumphant shout of glee as the rats started to break, each looking to the other for support as Saltzpyre’s flintlocks blew the brains out of their last squad leader.

She cast her gaze over the retreating force and spotted the rat gunner, lumbering away with the glaive still embedded in its side. She drew back her bow with a confident chuckle.

“Got you now…”

The arrow flew in an arc, descending on the hapless gunner in perfect silence. The rain still fell in sheets, but the satisfaction of a day’s work complete gave the waystalker enough energy to make her way through the dead, collecting as many arrows as she could on the way to her fallen weapon.

The rest of her compatriots were about ten meters behind her, save for Kruber, the man seemed to be watching over her, more so than when they were in Ubersreik. She was content to let him, after being captured by the enemy she welcomed someone by her side. Even if that person was a Lumberfoot.

Rainwater hissed as it impacted with the glowing metal of the ratling gun, creating a small cloud of condensation that hung in the air. As she inspected her kill, a grim sense of satisfaction came over her. There was nothing quite like taking down worthy prey from such a distance.

“You got what you needed?”

Kruber hovered behind her, no doubt curious as she yanked the glaive free. She marveled at the blade’s resilience, any human made weapon would have chipped at such abuse, but not this.

“Oh yes.”

She hefted the pole arm on her shoulder and nodded towards their allies, still making their way across the battlefield.

“Not bad mercenary, another decade and we might make a proper soldier of you.”

Kruber shook his head as he hefted his own blade.

“I don’t think I’m getting any better, much less younger.”

“Oh I dunno, your form seems to have improved significantly since Ubersreik. Or else I’m misremembering. Which could be true…”

Her dreams had quieted as of late, but when they came, they wracked her with visions of terror, elven souls consumed by The Prince of Pleasure, Slaanesh, grown fat in his gluttony. Skaven multiplying unchecked, spreading their foul corruption with the chaos warriors of the north. She’d wake in a cold sweat, silent tears streaming down her face as she struggled to reign in her terrified breaths.

She thanked Lileath that no one seemed disturbed by her thrashing, but there were days she wished someone would ask about it, just so she could have an excuse. But then again, what would it sound like to the likes of Kruber, Bardin, or Saltzpyre? The ravings of a lunatic?

Sienna was the only possible option, but the woman seemed subdued as of late, consumed in her devotion to Sigmar. Even Saltzpyre remarked on her reverence of their god with an almost respectful tone.

So she fought and fought, praying that exhaustion would be enough to hold back the nightmares, to little success.

Kruber quirked a brow at her silence. She met his gaze, nodding to the Witch Hunter as her approached.

“I’m going to check on the convoy, they should be arriving soon. Make sure we don’t have any unwanted guests hiding in the underbrush.”

Kerillian said nothing, leveling a scowl at the man as Kruber made his way down the path and onto the road.

“You presume much mayfly.”

“And you’ve yet to earn my trust.”

The elf scoffed.

“I would think the months spent in Ubersreik would be enough.”

She didn’t give him time to respond as she followed Kruber’s path, lightly stepping around the corpses while he merely stepped on them.

“He’s trying his best I think,” he said as she finished her approach.

“To what end? Being less of a pompous ass?”

Kruber chuckled.

“I think he’s trying to make it work. He’s not so bad ya know.”

“When he’s not insulting my people, he can be tolerable,” she admitted, though with the taste of bile in the back of her throat.

“Well you do make it enticing from time to time, the way the bridge of your nose crinkles when you’re angry can be quite amusing if I’m honest.”

She scowled.

“See? Like that.”

Kerillian shouldered her blade and drew her bow, looking in every direction except Kruber’s.

“What he does is of no concern of mine as long as he ducks when I tell him to.”

Kruber said nothing as he checked the nearby bodies for signs of life. A few had slid down the hill; most bearing broke arrow shafts embedded in their necks or chests.

“Well? Are we done here?”

“We will be if you’d let me have a decent look.”

She opened her mouth to snap at him and froze as she became aware of a titan sized figure staring at them just behind a cluster of trees.

“Kruber…” she whispered.

“Not now.”

Kerillian let her hand reach out for the sergeant’s shoulder. He tensed under her grip, but only for a fraction of a second.

“Markus, we have a shadow. No sudden moves. Run for the others when I say,” she hissed, attempting to look as casual as she could with a white knuckled grip on her companion’s shoulder.

“Where is it?”

She shook her head.

“It's not worth it mayfly, just go when I say.”

“I’m not leaving you behind.”

Kerillian bit back a groan. Most of the time the man’s loyalty was admirable in its own way, but now it was bordering on infuriating.

“I’ll be right behind you ya idiot!” she snarled, “Just go!”

With this, she drew a single trueflight arrow from her quiver, one of three she’d managed to scavenge.

But the figure was no longer there.

“I don’t see it!”

Kruber was only halfway up the hill.

“Keep moving!”

A deafening roar split the air, forcing Kerillian’s gaze to her right as a mass of muscle tore through the trees, barreling for Kruber’s exposed position. She fired without thinking, striking the beast she recognized as a bile troll in the arm. She cupped her mouth one handed.

“Hey, over here!”

It didn’t turn from its prize. Kruber, to his credit, turned to face the beast, blade in hand. She switched to her glaive and charged, roaring at the top of her lungs. Arrows could do little with this thing’s reach.

The glaive dug into its shin cleanly, taking a good chunk out of its flesh. It’s arm swatted at her ineffectually, giving Kruber enough time to drive his sword into its chest.

Heavy bile gushed out of the wound, cutting through Kruber’s gauntlets at a sickening speed. He gritted his teeth, dragging the blade out and striking once more. Kerillian followed his lead, dancing behind the crouching troll to strike at the tendons connecting its feet to its legs.

She didn’t have time to duck as its hand clamped around her waist. It squeezed its prize, forcing the air from her lungs as it brought her up to its gurgling maw. Everything in her chest hurt, her lungs refused to bring in blessed air as bile made its way to the top of its throat.

“No you don’t!”

A familiar Zweihander struck the troll in its throat, not enough to pierce, but enough for it to loosen its grip.

She fell to the ground in a pained heap, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air as Kruber dragged her away. Damn him, she tried to explain, but no the man just wouldn’t listen.

Kerillian cast about for her glaive, finding it a good three meters behind the troll. She tried to stand, only to be forced to the ground by the mercenary.

“No, stay back, I’ve got this.”

“I had it! If you’d just—”

The beast roared again, charging Kruber at a frightening speed. She resigned herself and drew her bow, grateful that the wood still retained its shape.

Kruber halted the beast’s progress with a slice at its legs, where she had struck before. He stepped out of its grasp, drawing it away from her and closer to a nearby bridge. Now she understood.

Her fingers traced the ridged fletching of a hagbane arrow and drew it from the quiver. Just pulling it back was a trial in of itself; lances of fire ran up her sides. The foul beast had done more damage than she thought.

C’mon Kruber, just a bit more…

The Bile Troll took one lumbering step onto the bridge, and she let it loose.

Satisfaction took her as the beast stumbled, soon replaced with concern as it continued to move. The poison should have downed it in seconds!

Despite her body’s protests she rushed forward, scooping up her fallen glaive and driving it deep into the monster’s flesh. It groaned, swatting at her pathetically. So the poison had done its work, just slower than she anticipated.

“Kruber! Are you alright?”

The lack of a response drove her to strike again, this time at the back of its knee, which she took clean off. This time it couldn’t just shrug it off.

“Kruber!?”

She ran to the front, to find the mercenary struggling in the grip of the troll, armor being crushed like cheap metal. Kerillian didn’t need any further prompting, she hacked away at its fingers, each the width of her arm and twice as strong. Kruber struggling ceased midway through her work.

“No.”

She hacked at its ring finger.

“No!”

Its pinky.

“Not today!”

Finally she severed the thumb from the rest of it, releasing the mercenary in a heap. She dropped the glaive, shaky hands reaching for the healing draught she kept on her person.

His eyes looked to the sky, vacant, but with a small sliver of life.

“You aren’t gonna die on me here.”

The elf cupped his head and forced the glass in between his lips. She massaged his throat at a hurried pace, the quicker she was, the sooner she could berate him for his foolishness.

He coughed, shuddering in her arms as breathed deep.

“You bloody idiot…” she sat back with a relieved sigh.

“Did we win?”

She coughed out a laugh.

“Yeah we won mercenary, now lets—”

The beast’s remaining hand lashed out at lightning speed, striking both her and Kruber in the ribs and over the bridge. It soon followed, blotting out the meager light as all three tumbled into the raging rapids below.

The entire world turned on its head as she struck the bone chilling water. It took all her willpower to remain calm and focus on finding Kruber amidst the deluge. The troll’s corpse, at least she hoped it was a corpse, floated behind her, while Kruber’s limp form lay just ahead.

Kerillian kicked forward, ignoring the thumping pain in her side. She had to get the armor off him; otherwise she’d never get them both to land safety.

As her fingers found the clasps, a disturbing through hit her: what was keeping her from simply leaving him here? Why was she so dead set on sparing the life of a single mayfly when thousands died every day?

She didn’t have time to ponder this as the heavy chest plate fell to the bottom of the river. Now she had to get them both to the surface. The Waystalker wrapped her arms around his chest and kicked the bottom of the river. They made it about a meter off the silt before they started to sink. She kicked harder, praying it would be enough, only to find herself falling once again.

This is not how it ends! Not here!

Her lungs were starting to burn, her legs as well. Her question from before made itself known once more.

Why spare him?

Because I care.

Kruber stirred in her grasp, flailing his legs in tandem with hers. This time they rose swiftly, breaking the surface in seconds and gifting the two of them lovely air.

“The shore!” she screamed, “Find the shore!”

Whatever strength she had fled her then. It was all she could do to keep herself treading water as Kruber’s powerful arm brought them closer and closer to a sandbank.

The concept of being truly chilled to the bone hadn’t been adequately understood until they scrambled into a small outcropping out of the rain. Her ribs screamed in protest as she shivered, teeth chattering beyond her control.

Strong hands rubbed her arms, a familiar mustached face coming into view as she attempted to do the same. Her numb fingers clutched his gambeson tunic, attempting to impart some semblance of warmth into the soaked material.

“W-we need to strip down,” she whispered.

“What?”

He sounded embarrassed, and if he wasn’t as cold as her she was sure he’d be blushing. Nevertheless she forced her hand to cup the back of his neck.

“Body heat Lumberfoot, no fire, so body heat.”

Kruber still looked unconvinced, but nodded and turned his back as he started to remove his tunic. Kerillian turned to her own clothes, shaking fingers just managing to remove the tassels on her armor, but when it got to the series of knots on her tunic it became much more difficult.

“D-damn piece of—”

“Let me…”

She stilled. Kruber took up position in front of her and worked away at them with deft speed. Soon he had her shirt completely unfastened, all that remained was her breast wrapping. That she decided to keep, along with her cloak and facemask.

“No dawdling then…” she said, rubbing her arms and torso as quick as she could.

“Right.”

Neither of them moved.

“For Isha’s sake!”

She leaned into him, one hand rubbing at his shoulder while the other continued to massage her torso, careful to avoid her bruised ribs. Under normal circumstances she might have taken note of how toned his arms were, but no, not here, not now.

Kruber, to his credit, took to his task quick, rubbing her back as quickly as he dared, obviously scandalized by the whole thing. Humans could be so prudish. Even simple displays of affection were looked down upon. Among her people this would be considered an act of survival nothing more.

So why was she trying to hide the burning in her cheeks and praying to whatever gods that would listen he didn’t notice the accompanying redness on the tips of her ears?

In an attempt to remedy this, she buried her head into his shoulder. Though this only made it worse, for now she could hear his heartbeat. A steady thump-thump that reverberated through his chest in a comforting way.

She realized why she didn’t mind him keeping an eye on her, why the constant worrying after her health, or how her attitude wasn’t irritating, but endearing.

He felt safe.

Kerillian let out a shudder. Kruber brought her closer, which only highlighted the issue for her as her cheek brushed against his chest, now warm from their proximity. Well, his proximity, she didn’t know how much heat she was giving off.

As if to reassure her, he rubbed harder, transferring as much warmth as he could.

“K-Kruber.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Thank you.”

He stopped rubbing.

“For what?”

She shifted in his grasp.

“For staying by my side. I don’t know how long I would have last against that… thing.”

Kruber visibly relaxed.

“Ah, well, likewise. Thanks I mean, f-for saving my arse back there. Twice.”

“Thrice,” she corrected, eyes drooping.

When did she get so tired? All she wanted to do now was sleep, sleep for years if she could.

“Kerillian.”

Her eyelids fluttered open, had she fallen asleep?

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to sleep somewhere else? You’re not shivering, and I-I wanted to make sure you were—”

“Shh mayfly…” she slurred, “sleep now, talk later.”

Her ear fell against his chest once more, though this time without a sense of trepidation. Why forego warmth and safety when it was right here?

His grip tightened ever so slightly as he adjusted his position, this time to the sandy floor of their little cavern. She became vaguely aware of the sensation of a familiar cloak being draped over their shoulders.

“Sleep than…” he said, uncertainty still lacing his words.

“Sleep,” she commanded.

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of the man’s heart and breathing ease her into a pleasant rest. Or at least what she hoped would be a pleasant sleep. Goddess knew she needed it.

***

Cold enveloped her, a cold she felt beyond the icy rainwater numbing her fingers and bones. She struggled against it, trying to burrow into something warm. But when she opened her eyes all she saw was darkness, darkness her eyes couldn’t pierce.

Suddenly, there came a flash of light so vivid it forced her back, craving the darkness more than she previously had. With the light came the howling of a thousand voices crying out in terror, or madness, or whatever fever gripped them. The light seemed to reach out as one, clawing at her body with increasing intensity. She felt their fingers, could almost see them as they stretched forward to touch her.

Kerillian could do nothing as a single cold finger brushed against her arm, and a wave crashed over her.

Millions of voices were chanting in her ears, warning her of things to come, or of things that may come. Goddess she couldn’t tell through all the noise. She saw Athel Loren burning, then swallowed by the weave. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her Ulthuani cousins followed, then the dwarves, and even parts of the reikland. Her gods failed, the dwarven gods, all save for Sigmar.

They were all consumed. The world would fall to darkness, a plaything for the dark powers of foul Gods.

Just as the light began to overwhelm her, it vanished, leaving her in darkness once more.

Tears still streamed down her face, falling into the nothing around her. She clutched at her shuddering frame in a halfhearted attempt at warming her core. It didn’t help.

“Why?” She whispered. “Why would you forsake us?”

“Who?”

#Vermintide #Vermintide II #Warhammer: Vermintide II #Kerillian #Markus Kruber #Fanfic

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