Fear was clawing at him, like a hungry wolf clawed at the door. Marinus Brutus was the first to admit he was no hero. He enlisted in the Steelhelms because it was a nice extra pay at the end of the month and an excuse to get out of a shift out of the mines. He never expected to see battle. And yet here he was, on the silver fields miles away from the safe city walls of Deatholme. He shivered as a cold wind ran through him like a dagger, he wore a leather cuirass beneath his silver breastplate and still it did nothing for the cold. His purple cloak waved behind like the banner above his head. He saw the bronze dragon head roaring on a purple field, as if in defiance to all those who would dare oppose the great city. If it was meant to inspire courage, it failed its duty. At least in Marinus' case.
For the fifteenth time he wished he was back home, back in bed with his wife Nadja or Helga.
By Sigmar he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to Nadja that morning when he got dragged out from the street...
The ground shook beneath his feet like a rampaging gargant was raging beneath them.
"Finally." the veteran-sergeant spat on the floor. She was a hard woman, tall and pale like most of the other in the regiment with short silver hair, she could almost pass for human were it not for her pointy aelven ears. Her face had a dark beauty to it, hardened by war. Still, he would never attempt to bed her, he knew she was not the type to like his flowery words that seduced others so easily. Moira Valencia Dimetria was a half-aelf and a veteran of many wars. She led battles against the ratmen, nighthaunt and even the odd greenskin raid. She had fought it all and won. The same could not be said of her regiment which always seemed to suffer the harshest of casualties. The Poor Bastards, they were called. Always placed in the vanguard of any engagement.
She picked up her helmet that hung from the pommel of her blade that was embedded on the ground and placed it on her head." Was wondering when the duardin would do their job. Alright boys and girls, get ready. We got ratmen coming for us in three minutes, make your prayers to whomever quick, we got work to do." She gave a nod to the trumpeter who quickly blew out the ready tune. A tune that was picked up too the other regiments besides them.
"Oh shit, it's real now..." Tristan said. His friend breathed a long sigh, a long lanky fellow with sunken eyes. "No going back now. Why did you drag me into this?"
"We could use the pay." Marinius said.
"You use half of that pay to bribe me to lie to Nadja about where you go at night shifts. Does she even know you've enlisted?"
"No and you haven't stopped taking my bribes so don't act like you're a Sigmarite priest." he glared.
Tristan snorted and did not reply, letting the matter be. This was his first battle as well and it showed. He tried to control the shaking but failed. A few soldiers in their regiments likewise showed similar mannerisms.
"Ready arms!" Moira cried.
Marinus saw his own regiment ready their swords and shields, some muttering a prayer to Sigmar, others to Lauchon the Soulseeker while most stood ready with grim determination. Their regiment was quiet compared to their neighbours. The duardin were singing in their native tongue of khazalid, their armour completely silver save for their short purple cloaks and golden bands which hung in their beards. They all had massive warhammers which were nearly their size. Before them walked a younger-looking duardin with a copper-like beard. He wore armour like his compatriots save for the small banner that seemed to extend from his back which showed a similar symbol of the bronze dragon surrounded with khazalid text. He was speaking out loud, his visage hidden behind a horned helmet. Prince Hadgar Durnison, the youngest son of the Duardin King and the only member of the royal family willing to fight alongside their human and aelven allies.
Marinus managed to pick up a few words he learnt of Helga and other duardin women he bedded.
"Brothers of the deep! Children of rock and stone!" Prince Hadgar cried as he walked past his line. He began to thumb his chest with his free hand as his right held his own smaller warhammer over his shoulder.
"Uzkular! Uzkular!" the duardin warriors cried.
"Hammers in the dark! Breakers of earth!" He began to thumb his chest harder, a motion some of the duardin warriors began to enact as well.
"Uzkular! Uzkular!" they cried.
"The raki have come to die!" He turned to face his men; his thumbs became full of punches on his own plated chest." WHAT WILL BE THE LAST THING THEY HEAR?!"
"UZKULAR! UZKULAR! UZKULAR!" A sound of fury and steel answered their prince.
"Duardin..." Tristan next to Marinus shook his head." Always so loud..."
"You're telling me..." Marinus said, his mind going to Helga.
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It was early in the morning when he awoke next to her, his duardin lover. Or rather she woke him by giving him a shove. She was a boxom beauty, long bronze hair, breasts the size of water-melons that tasted like the sweetest of fruits and had the curviest of hips. Freckles were beneath her blue eyes that glistened like diamonds. She looked at him with need.
"My husband will be back in an hour from his shift; you need to shove off quick."
"Alright, alright..." Marinus yawned." Morning to you as well..." He stretched, unwilling to leave the warm bed not quite yet. It was bigger than his own bed back on the surface, as was the house. Joys of being a mining overseer in the Death Hole. The house was located on the top circle of the inhabited side of the pit, only one lift ride away from the surface.
"I'm not joking, Marinus. You got to go, now." Helga said." He will kill you if he finds you here."
"In a moment." Marinus said." First breakfast." Before Helga could reply he dove beneath the burgundy covers. Like a bone-kestrel who dove for prey, so too did Marinius lunge for between Helga's legs. The duardin woman sighed with pleasure as his tongue found her diamond and began to lick it. She moaned, placing her hands on the back of his head and pulled him closer, tugging at his black hair. His hands went to her hips and held on to them, a nice warmth in a realm surrounded by cold and death. She saw nothing but the vague shape of a head beneath her cover.
"Ah, yes...Valaya's teats yes!" Helga arched her back as he continued his ministrations, her chest heaving with the sudden onset of pleasure. She closed her eyes, her breath coming faster and faster. His right hand left her hip on that side and moved to her teat. There, his thumb began to knead her nipple. He squeezed gently, moved it around as he remained focused on her diamond. Her arrival came close now, like a rampaging cavalier charge. Her screaming echoed through the thankfully soundproof walls. For her size she sounded like a gargant or the Denthir that lived deep beneath the pit.
"Mari...i'm coming...i'm...COMING!" She cried as she reached her pleasure that ran down her body like hot lava. Like a volcano it exploded and washed her human's lover's beard and face with her juices. She sighed heavily, a happy smile on her face. Her lover rose up, the cover slid off his head and back, his erect manhood aimed at her entrance. Sweat covered both their bodies, a scent mix of warmth and sex hung in the air. He placed his hands on opposites sides of her head, careful not to stand on her frazzled coppery long hair.
"Grugni's hammer, I love that thing..." she smiled and nodded at Marinius. He did not wait long; he had a deadline after all. He plunged.
Helga gasped as her human lover entered her fully, his entrance aided by his previous ministrations. He would normally start slow and build up but he had no time for that. She had her pleasure, now was his. With each thud of flesh on flesh, Helga gasped and moaned. Each undulation a praise to one of the ancestor gods.
"Oh Grimnir, Oh Grugni, Oh Velaya! Yes Mari, YES!!!" she cried with each thrust. He kept thrusting inside her, grunting louder and louder as his own arrival was on the horizon. Her teats swing with each thrust, a mesmerizing sight that he had seen multiple times before but never could get enough of. Even his own wife's breasts couldn't hold his attention like Helga's could. He did not feel any guilt for the betrayal; it had been months since they shared a bed together like this in fear of harming the babe that grew inside of her. Utter nonsense of course but he would not pursue the issue, he did love Nadja enough not to argue with her. Instead Marinius would find his pleasures elsewhere, be it with a human or aelf or in this case, a duardin housewife whose husband did not spend enough time with. When the babe was born and Nadja was willing to sleep with him again, he could stop pretending to go on night shifts and sleep with his overseer's wife.
The bed creaked beneath them with each thud, a constant banging on the wall. Her cries filled the house's walls again.
With a last grunt he lunged one last time and unleashed his essence inside her. Ropes of his seed filled her womb in several spurts. He gave a few more thrusts to make sure he was fully emptied before he rolled off his lover.
"Praise Sigmar..." he panted." That was good."
"Aye..." she placed her arm over her forehead, her chest heaved." You...came in me again. If I have a wee one and he knows it's not his..."
"It's fine..." Marinius said." Worse come, I'll do the right thing..."
As far as she knew, Marinus had no spouse. She never asked, he wouldn't tell. The moment his child was born he'd be the dotting husband and Helga would be cast aside. She had more to lose than him. Until then, he'd enjoy her.
She turned to face him." You will?"
He smirked." Of course, I always rise to the occasion. They don't accept cowards in the Steelhelm regiment."
Helga laughed." My soldier hero..."
He pulled her on top of him and kissed her deeply, making use of the last thirty minutes. He'd taste her teats, ssuckle on them like a babe and when he's stuff again, let her ride him like a cavalier on a steed. There was time left and he'd use every single second of it.
Tristan would cover for him until then.
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The scruffy ratman lunged at him with a rusty blade. Marinius wailed as he smacked the blade thrust aside with his own and tried to stab at it. He could not run as he was but one body in a sea of bodies. The ground in front of the lines had exploded as hordes of ratmen climbed out of their tunnels to escape the horrors the duardin miners had unleashed to drive them out. The Deatholme forces lunged forward and began killing the ratmen en mass, but there were so many rats. Soo damn many. The Poor Bastards, as always, were the first in the fray along with Prince Hadgar's honour guard and the Silver Blades. Deatholme steel met the ratmen infestation. Battle cries filled the air as blood sprayed, and limbs and heads flew. The Poor Bastards fought in the legion formation, being relieved every minute and moved to the pack of the regiment or replaced if killed. Like Tristan who got a sword in his gut and got it pulled out with the blade now pointed at his face. It had been only his turn for ten seconds.
"Die-die, manthing! DIE-DIE!" the creature who killed Tristan cried.
