Doom: End Times (Doom X Warhammer Fantasy)

Deliverance of Evil

The Crone walked away to rid her eyes of that blighted prince. A detachment druchii took notice of her and made way for their queen. The woman gave them every bit of scorn and malice whilst they looked down to avoid locking eyes with her. The group departed after and resumed their duty whilst Hellebron made her towards an alley.

The narrow path had long since been unused and abandoned even before the siege. Rarely had it been populated with any sort of life save for scheming nobles, assassins, and vagrants; the latter of which Hellebron made sure was taken care of.

Now, though, the alley was vacant with two figures. The crone herself. And a khainite assassin.

The shadowy figure approached from the darkness. Hellebron was weary of the figure, placing a hand on the pommel of her sword.

"Halt." She called out. The assassin stopped immediately. The Crone relaxed slightly as she noticed the slight shudder and apprehension in his body language. He was no Shadowblade for sure. If it was, his posture would've been courteous and unflinching.

"Step forward." She commanded again. The assassin eased himself but cautiously moved forward; kneeling before the slender figure of the High Priestess.

"Mistress." He spoke.

"Rise, servant of Khaine. I will not have you wasting time prostrating yourself before me. What can you tell me of the rogue Shadowblade?"

"Nowhere, I'm afraid." Answered the assassin. "We have searched far and wide, my lady. It appears Shadowblade has escaped during the chaos. No trace of him is left in this city. He... might be out of our reach."

A low growl escaped from Hellebron's throat. A single drop of sweat rolled down the assassin's forehead, which thankfully was obscured by his hood. Still, the sound of displeasure was enough to raise his anxiety a bit.

"Damn fiend." She cursed to herself, looking back to the assassin. "You have served enough. Moving on, what can you tell me about this...'Doom Slayer' that the Asur have brought with them?"

The assassin looked nervously at the Crone, carefully choosing the words to not invoke her wrath. "If I may speak... freely. The man you speak of is... how shall I put it... a monster. A terrifying beast clad in iron. I have witnessed briefly his power against the invaders and those few moments were enough for my eyes. The fury of our witches was nothing compared to his might. He fights with weapons, not unlike the muskets those humans wield in the Old World. Yet they spew unlimited fire and hate upon the flesh of our enemies. It is as if our Lord had been given mortal form and used all of his power to batter down the forces of Chaos. I have even heard rumours amongst our kin that perhaps he is indeed Khaine himself."

Hellebron's eye twitched at the blasphemous statement. Her temper had been fuming like a tea kettle above a fire. The assassin bit his tongue and realized he might have spilled too much. The crone slowly raised a hand towards the hooded elf. The assassin preemptively anticipated his death before the hand landed towards his shoulders.

"You have... done well." She vaguely praised. "I have had enough news for this day."

The assassin felt relieved before Hellebron closed in towards his ear and whispered, "You will find the ones who are spreading ill of Khaine. Bring me their tongues and the ears of those who believe in them. All shall know better to speak such slander."

Hellebron let go after, pulling herself to see the shock in his eyes. The assassin's eyes spoke of fright and worry at the command.

"You can keep yours intact." She corrected. The assassin was relieved to hear and bowed to her, before hurrying into the shadows at her behest. Hellebron walked away from the alley. She thought of killing the messenger but he would do better to collect what was requested of her. Besides, an assassin was an invaluable asset to her regime. Hellebron made her way before the gates. The eyes of her many sisters and executioners laid her way. Fear and respect emanated from them, for Hellebron basked in that glory. Not Malekith. Nor that whore-mother of his. Morathi.