# Panda's competiton entry (WFB)



## Pandawithissues... (Dec 2, 2007)

Heinrich Kochmann wished he’d been braver. He wished more than anything he’d had more guts when the crunch time had come. But now, here he was, his sixteen-year-old knuckles a pale white colour from grasping his old halberd too tightly. Instead of standing up for himself, he’d been suckered in, no, coerced would be a more appropriate term, into signing up for the free company with his brothers and friends. He remembered the day far too well, his brother Johann in particular had cajoled him and needled him into going to the summer fair that fateful morning. He’d never been to a fair before, and the colours of the tents had shocked his eyes. The smell of hot, greasy pies filled his nostrils, and the harsh braying of the barkers had grated his ears. He had loved it. He and his brothers had wandered though the rows of pavilions, mocking the clowns, marvelling at the acrobats, sword swallowers’ and fire breathers, as well as having their fortunes told by warty-nosed old crones. He’d even laughed when Johann had bested the carnival strongman at wrestling in the centre ring in front of a crowd of hundreds. That was when it had all gone wrong.
The recruiter had stepped into the ring, shouted a fine speech about how much the Border Princes needed strong, fine upstanding young men to form the backbone against the orc menace and slapped Johann on the back. Flush from his victory, with the baying, hollering crowd at his back, Johann had signed up on the spot, and subsequently badgered Heinrich and Kurtz to do the same. The three of them had left the fair with Prince Schlefter’s penny in their hands, and a promise of adventure.
Reality had set in for Heinrich and Kurtz when they saw Johann spitted on the rude spear of an orc boarboy in their first skirmish. Three months later, and Kurtz had lost an eye to a crooked goblin arrow, and Heinrich walked with a limp. In his mind he could still hear Johann’s agonized shrieks of pain at night.
A sharp rap on Heinrich’s shoulder stirred him from his reverie.
“Not sleeping on watch are yer Kochmann?” growled a voice behind his right ear, wheezing breath hot on the nape of Heinrich’s neck.
“No sir!”
Heinrich relaxed a little, sergeant Vilquist was one of the few men in the company Heinrich liked and respected, and one of the only ones he trusted.
“Good, lad, I knew yer wouldn’t be.” 
Heinrich and his brother Kurtz had quickly established a reputation for standing firm at all costs, and being straight as a pair of elven arrows. Rumour in the company was that his elder brother was being pegged for promotion.
“We’ll probably meet this new raiding party in the next few days son” Vilquist sat down on a stump next to Heinrich “and we’ll need to be ready for ‘em, they’ve cut a bloody swathe through Duke Spauldest’s lands, much to our Prince’s hilarity” Vilquist pulled out his greatsword, four foot of blue steel, and started to sharpen it with a whetstone.
“Well, that’s no surprise” muttered Heinrich, and spat with a stream of invective questioning the mettle, training and ancestry of the troops of their Prince’s main rival.
“Normally I’d agree with yer lad” answered the sergeant, in a dangerously grim tone “but Spauldest had hired Vincenzet’s lads to give his some backbone. Yer remember ‘em son, big, Tilean bastards? Swords like mine? I can see by yer face that yer can. That’s a bad bunch of orcs if they can do fer ‘em” Vilquist coughed, hacked and spat out a pebble sized lump of black phlegm. “Proper bad bunch of orcs if they can do fer Vincenzet’s Razors”
Heinrich felt a shiver go down his spine, he’d seen some action in his few months in the free company, but those men had been mean, hungry and good with their greatswords. They had liked to boast that they were good enough with those swords to shave with them, and it hadn’t been far from the truth either.
“Between yer and me lad?” Vilquist lowered his voice.
“Aye sergeant” 
“I trust yer lad, more’n I trust the rest of these rapists, cutthroats and thieves. Don’t let this get out to the men or morale’ll drop faster than the knickers on a Tilean whore. One of the Razers was found, without a tongue, and with no fingers. Left as a warning fer us lad. When questioned about the raiders, he pissed hisself in fear. ‘Course this is all fireside rumour” Vilquist spat again “We’ll know more when yer brother and ‘is scouting party gets back eh?” Vilquist stood, clapped Heinrich on the back, and wandered away still sharpening his sword. “Fine lad that Kurtz” Heinrich heard him mutter as he shuffled off. He shivered involuntarily as he continued his watch, despite the warmth of the fire behind him.

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The column of men stretched for a way in front of Heinrich and the rest of the free company as they continued their march. He could see the regular halberdiers further up the line, as well as swordsmen, crossbowmen and the mercenary outriders hired by Prince Schlefter. Another levy of free company had the vanguard to the column, and immediately behind them marched the small company of handgunners, the Prince’s pride. Heinrich was beginning to worry about Kurtz. His scouts were three hours late to report and counting.

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Another 2 hours passed before they saw any sign of the scouting party, and even that was just a trail sign scratched onto a tree. Prince Schlefter’s little army was well on its way to where they had planned to make their stand against the raiding party. The march continued until they reached the ‘Ridge of Heroes’ as it was known. Heinrich coldly smirked at that, Vilquist’s nickname for it was ‘the ridge where heroes and cowards alike piss and shit their breeches until the orcs run away’. In his short period in the free company he’d already helped to defend this selfsame ridge twice, both times against orcs and their vile green kin. The ridge stretched from a steep scarp in the south east for about a third of a mile, terminating against a steep ravine. The ridge slope itself was a rise of about 10 feet or so, providing a natural bulwark for defence against invasion, and the Prince’s forces began sharpening and replacing the stakes damaged or missing since the last battle. The light was fading as a lone figure was seen on the horizon, staggering towards the battle line.

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A murmur ran through the free company as the outriders skidded to a halt a short distance away, and Heinrich, Vilquist, and a few others sprang to their feet. By the time they reached the riders, it was clear who the figure they had recovered was. Heinrich stared into the face of Erik Metzel, second in command of Kurtz’s scouts. Even from a quick glance, it was clear Metzel was a dead man; he was missing both arms, the only remnants were stumps cauterised with pitch. The mutilation had not been clean, the saw work was crude, and jagged remains of the humerus could be seen protruding from the stump of Erik’s left arm. Heinrich elbowed his way to the front of the crowd, the sergeant beside him.
“Erik! What happened? What of Kurtz?” cried Heinrich.
“Give ‘im some room lads!” bellowed Vilquist pushing a few of the muttering crowd back.
“Caught…raiding party…” coughed Metzel “Kurtz? I saw him fall, cut down like chaff…” Metzel coughed again, this time a stream of black arterial blood dribbled out the corner of his mouth and over his chin. Heinrich leaned closer as Erik tried to speak again: “Not…not…orcs…” The side of Heinrich’s face was covered in a thin spray of blood and spit, as Metzel drew his parting groan.

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Ever since the return of Metzel, the lines had been drawn up on the ridge, handgunners and crossbowmen in the centre, swordsmen to the left, the halberdiers on the right. The free company and outriders had been placed behind the main lines ready to fill any gaps that might appear. Heinrich could hear the sergeant cursing the early morning mist blocking the view of the missile troops, and reducing visibility to a few dozen feet at best. He gripped his halberd tightly, sullen and despondent over the death of Kurtz. Johann had been everything to the pair of them, and his death had forced the remaining brothers closer, creating a bond now cruelly severed. Heinrich felt fear, as he had many times before, particularly on the eves of his previous two battles, but this was the first time he felt truly alone, numb. He could hear the heavy undisciplined pounding of the enemy feet in the thick fog, as well as an occasional low grunting.
He barely registered sergeant Vilquist’s attempts to steady the ranks, as a brutal, guttural roar broke out from the mist, and the thunder of heavy feet caused the ground to tremble. Heinrich could sense the fear of those around him at the thought of the unknown, unseen enemy, and could smell the stench of urine and faeces as a few completely lost control of themselves in terror. Suddenly, out of the mist, immense figures appeared, almost twice the height of a man, and much, much bulkier, their size and reach rendering the ridge useless. Handguns cracked, and crossbows twanged, barely denting the ogres charge as their ragged line hit the drawn up ranks of Prince Schlefter’s forces like a ton of bricks, collapsing it instantly. Heinrich saw seasoned veterans turn and run from the horror and sheer fury of the assault. Through the mist and the acrid smoke from the handgun discharge he saw Vilquist stand like a rock against the tide, great sweeps of his greatsword cutting the arm off one ogre, and decapitating another; he saw Vilquist die, torn apart by a monstrous figure armed with a brutal club and a spiked gauntlet.
Heinrich swung his halberd at the first ogre to reach him, biting deep into its pectoral, but the ogre just smiled a grotesque toothy grin, grunted, and yanked the weapon out of his hands with one humongous fist. The last thing Heinrich remembered before he was knocked senseless was the absurdity of the ogre’s appearance. While most of it was rough, rusted and battered, time seemed to slow for Heinrich Kochmann as he gazed at, of all things, the ogre’s ridiculous trousers. Striped blue and cream, they seemed stupendously ridiculous for such a base creature….

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When Heinrich came to his senses, it was dark, and a pungent, sickly sweet aroma offended his nostrils, his entire body felt numb for some reason. Looking down through vision still blurry from the head injury he had sustained he couldn’t help but feel a horrible sense of foreboding, and he couldn’t shake the inexorable feeling something was fundamentally wrong. As his vision slowly cleared and the numbing sensation was replaced by a concentrated agony throughout his physical frame Heinrich realised why. He had no arms or legs, oh gods, oh Sigmar!
“Hur hur hur!” laughed the bestial, grossly fat form in front of him, before returning to its meal. Heinrich vaguely recognised one of his boots on the end of charred lump of meat and gristle in the ogre’s meaty paw, before, mercifully, he passed out again, this time for good.


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## Galahad (Dec 21, 2006)

Great job, Panda...nothing like a happy ending :grin:
Very dark and gritty, I like it quite a lot.

My only real suggestions are really technical.
1: make your dividers smaller (use center tags to keep them tidy looking) your long lines of dashes make my screen stretch out. Not a huge deal.
2: since you can't indent in a forum post, you should probably put an extra line break between paragraphs. Again, not a big deal, just makes it look a little tidier.

Aside from that though, it;s really good, well written and nasty.


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## delta13 (Feb 10, 2008)

hey galahd...no offence or disrespect but are you like the fourm geek?


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## Galahad (Dec 21, 2006)

Delta...we all play with little plastic space men...were *all* geeks. 

I was just making a technical suggestion that makes an otherwise fantastic story a little easier to read. Honestly, I couldn't think of any narrative suggestions or criticism, so I made the only recommendations I could. If he'd write a little crappier I wouldn't have to resort to technical advice :wink:


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## Pandawithissues... (Dec 2, 2007)

Heh, I guess you use fire fox gal, The lines of dashes are the right length for me. I may edit it when i get the time! Thanks for reading.


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## Galahad (Dec 21, 2006)

I don't think it's a browser issue, more of a screen resolution issue. My laptop only goes to 1024x768


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## delta13 (Feb 10, 2008)

hey galahad, i meant no offense and that is correct, we are all geeks in the end...i just noticed that on a few threads you seem to be the technical corrections guy so i thought maybe you were the sites..."tech priest"...lol because you seem to correct people alot, especially on stats or clerica type things...again no offense and i am not critisising you by any means...and the whole calling you a geek thing was simply a smart arse way of refering to you as our tech priest....lol


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