The Price of Devotion Part 2

It was devotion that had now brought Witch Hunter Klaus Richter to this rats nest. It was here he hoped to finally catch and exterminate the pest that for so long had eluded him. The Witch Hunter slowly walked his horse towards the shelter of the inn's stables, but after observing their derelict and ramshackle state, chose a safer option. Once dismounted he unfastened his sword and pistols from the saddle. He then proceeded to prime his pistols, pouring precisely the right amount of powder into each barrel, followed by a metal ball bearing. Fully loaded and primed he placed both pistols into the holsters positioned on his hips, followed by his sword after testing its keenness and edge with a few swipes. There would be no room for carelessness and after many years of experience it was a ritual perfected. Now fully armed, Klaus lead his horse to a post positioned beside the door to the inn in general. Here he fastened the horses reins and after whispering gentle words of comfort into its ear made his way resolutely towards the door of the building.

 He could feel the presence of his enemy, knowing that each step brought him closer and closer to his quarry and thus closer to justice. He drew his pistol as memories of his preys past crimes came to mind. He gripped the stock tighter as he thought of the long restless nights he had spent during the last five years of his life. Nights filled with screams, the endless, unforgiving cries of his foes victims. Howling as their horribly twisted and mutated bodies are burned at the stake, forms writhing in the flames as they cry out the name of the man who brought these terrible mutations upon their poor unfortunate earthly bodies and souls. The name of the man who has haunted Witch Hunter Klaus Richter's every move. Doktor Hans Kerdle. The very thought of that monster's name brought a sickening feeling to his stomach. But this feeling was fought down, for as he came closer to the door a sense of anticipation had taken its place and began to rise within him, giving him strength. Finally, within this derelict rogues haven Doktor Hans Kerdle would meet his end. He would pay for the necessary purification of his victims at the hands of the Witch Finder, for although they had not wished for the abnormalities that had been forced upon their bodies, it was his duty as a Witch Hunter to destroy them. His duty was to purify all traces of corruption and heresy no matter its origin. As it was all devotees of Sigmar, his God and Guardian of the Empire. Such was the price of devotion and as Witch Hunter Klaus Richter pushed open the door and entered its dimly lit, dank and stinking interior he thought of how Doktor Hans Kerdle would pay at the hands of that devotion.

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From the shadows...

What follows is the beginnings of a short story by myself, written for my leaving cert exam donkeys ago! It has however inspired a new project that a friend and I are now working on and that you will surely bear witness too over the next while. I hope you enjoy the read.

The Price of Devotion - Part One

The road to the small town of Langwald was quiet, there had been no travellers along it for many hours and now an undisturbed blanket of mist lay eerily across its surface. It was dark now and many people had taken shelter in the Black Candle Inn so as not to provoke attack from bandits, highwaymen or worse. The inn was situated around three-quarters way between Langwald and its neighbouring town of Enzesburg and like many buildings in the area was fortified in case of attack from the nearby forest. A grim and foreboding area, the inn reflected these aspects perfectly in its exterior structure and decoration. The stone archway had been made from dark rock, taken from the neighbouring mountain range and this served as the entrance into the inn's courtyard. It was shadowed by two immense stone gargoyles carved from the same rock, posed as such that they appeared to be ready to pounce on any unwary victim. The skill with which they had been sculpted was such that their realism had caused many a weary traveller to seek shelter elsewhere. It was for this same reason that the inn was now known as a haven for thieves, murderers, brigands and worse. These characters being the only ones brave, mad or desperate enough to risk a confrontation with the inn's dark and deceptive guardians.


A shadowy figure had now made his way to the entrance of the inn. He wore a long black cloak and a wide brimmed hat of the same colour. His mount was also black and at first glance the man would have appeared as an extension of the horse, while on closer inspection one would have seen that he was wearing brown leather boots. Once a fine pair of aristocratic style footwear, they had now been scuffed and cut by long years of travel and it was this worn quality that was shared by the rest of his apparel.
 Now making his way beneath the arch, the man looked up to observe the two gargoyles on either side of him. Where beforehand shadows had been hiding his face beneath his hat, they were now forced to flee from the light of the torches positioned below the leering sculptures. On previous circumstances this light would have illuminated the faces of lesser men, showing visages of fear and cowardice at the prospect of being ripped apart by the looming centurions. But this man was different; his features were rigid and grim, as stone-like as the statues themselves. His cold eyes reflected the flames of the torches below the gargoyles, almost challenging them to spring to life as he held the hilt of his sword while simultaneously grasping the hammer-shaped medallion hung from a silver chain around his neck. It was this medallion combined with his apparel that marked the man as a feared figure of authority. An infamous angel of justice. A man who has devoted the entirety of his life to the seeking out and destruction of the denizens of darkness. A Witch Hunter...

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