Andrew in the Warhammer World

By Zygmunt

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Andrew Sczcepanski lay motionless on his filthy bed.  There hadn’t been any liquor in the house in a week and man was he feeling it.  Noel, his brother had only laughed at him, though he was in the same condition.  Andrew was feeling too crappy to get up and steal from the Allsup’s nearby, so he simply groaned.  He groggily stuck his head under his pillow and tried to ignore the persistent pounding inside his temples.  Withdrawal is even worse than a hangover, he thought.  He suddenly realized that there was something hard inside of his pillow cover.  Andrew pulled it out to find it was a small bottle containing some clear liquid.  He pulled off the lid and drank its contents without a second thought…

 

Andrew was delighted, he hadn’t felt this good in a long time, and his bed…  He jumped up as he realized he was laying in a field of flowers.  “Dammit!” shouted Andrew with amazement.  He had tried many substances in his time, but never one like this.  He wondered where such high quality stuff had come from.  It seemed so real.  Andrew stumbled clumsily through the bright meadow and entered into the surrounding forest.  The sun was past its zenith but Andrew hadn’t been outside enough to remember the directions in which it rose and set.  He was truly enjoying himself for the first time since he had last thrown rocks at somebody’s car.  His dull, grinning face was spotted with numerous freckles and his eyes always glinted with perverse humor.  His greasy mop of brown hair hung down onto his face.  He wore baggy jeans and a faded hooded sweater with the drawstrings hanging sloppily in front.  A stern faced man in armor and an earth brown cloak appeared in front of him as if out of nowhere.  “Who the hell are you?” Andrew asked in his deep and raucously loud voice.

“How did scum like you get past the shoals?” the man asked in return.  Andrew then saw how his face was thin and his ears pointy.  “By getting stoned.”

“If that was so,” replied the man with a lofty air, “You would be quite dead indeed.  You do not look as if anyone has thrown rocks at you.”  Andrew fell on his back laughing until his pale face turned brick red.  “I gotta to show you the wonders of pot!” he shouted.  “Do you have any beer?”  The cold eyed man sniffed indignantly.  “We do not have such crude drinks on our isle.”

“You elves suck!”

“We do not ‘suck’ anything.” replied the soldier coldly.  “Now how did you arrive on Ulthuan and what are those garments that clothe you?”  Andrew completely ignored him and said, “I thought elves at least had magic mushrooms.”  The elf finally lost patience and called out, “Tyrias, show yourself.”  Another elf in chain mail and a conical helmet emerged soundlessly from the brush.  “I am Soris,” said the first, “What name do you call yourself, human fool?”

“I’m Andrew, so go rape each other!”  Before Andrew knew what was happening, two angry mailed hands were dragging him through the bushes.  “Let us take this fool to camp.” said Tyrias.

 

            After an hour of being forcefully marched by the two angry soldiers, Andrew was finally brought into a large clearing filled with the tents of an entire army.  Some stared arrogantly at the disheveled boy while others laughed at him haughtily.  An elf emerged from one of the tents in only chain mail, but Andrew could tell by the way he walked with a cork up his ass that he was someone important.  He approached the captive and said to Soris in a deep rich voice, “Where did you find this human child?”  Soris said “We found him wandering alone in the woods south of here, Lord Tyrion.  He refused to answer any questions concerning his origins.  He said that he was ‘Andrew’ and then gravely insulted us.  We immediately seized him and brought him here.  He shouted strange words until he was breathless.  This human is a most peculiar creature as you shall find for yourself, m’lord.”  Tyrion looked down at Andrew.  His sharp features were perfect and his blue eyes piercing.  He had long gold hair that flowed brilliantly past his shoulders.  “This human is most intriguing indeed,” he said.  “Of what material is this cloth?”  Andrew, who was scratched up and groaning replied “Your momma!”

“You never knew her.  I do not believe that involves your clothing.”  he said with lofty indignation.  “Just let me go, assholes!” shouted Andrew.  “Before I jack off!”

“I have had quite enough of this angry, unintelligible speech,” Tyrion said with a scowl.  “Remove his garments.”  Andrew struggled fiercely, but strong hands held him firmly.  “Lemme go you faggots!” he screeched.  A fist crashed into his temple and he was swallowed by blackness.

 

            Andrew awoke in a plain but clean tent and was wearing a brown robe.  His head was pounding as if he had a hangover.  Man was he tripping!  He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and walked outside.  A guard was waiting for him and he found himself being dragged by his robe to Tyrion’s tent.  Andrew was too dazed to fight back.  He was roughly shoved through the entrance.  Inside was a polished oak table that shined in the candlelight.  At its head was Tyrion, surrounded by a few of his top officers.  The elven general daintily sipped his fine wine.  “Sit,” commanded Tyrion.  Andrew grabbed a carved chair and complied reluctantly.  On the table were his clothes.  Tyrion looked at them briefly and then his gaze went to his human captive.  “Where did you acquire these?  Are they magical?”

     “Can I have some wine?” asked Andrew.

     “Answer me, foolish child!”

     “I got them from the store,” replied Andrew in his laziest voice.

     “What manner of human establishment sells such things?  Did you get them from wizards?”

     “They’re not magic, idiot!” exclaimed Andrew throwing his hands in the air.  Tyrion’s face went red with anger, but he let the insult pass.  “Then explain this,” he said in a condescending tone.  He held up what Andrew recognized as his lighter and lit it.  Tyrion displayed the tiny flame for all to see and then put it back on the table.  “Did these magical objects aid you in navigating the shoals?”

     “Hell no!  What are you talking about?” asked Andrew dully.

     “The shifting shoals that protect Ulthuan!”

     “Never went through ‘em,” said Andrew with a shrug.

     “You lie!  How can this be?” exclaimed the elven lord hotly.

     “I thought I was just stoned, but this is too real.”

     “What is this nonsense speech, child?  Are you an agent of the Chaos army?"

     “Kind of,” replied Andrew, “I used to have my own Chaos army.  I had the greater demons of Tzeentch and Nurgle, but I painted them pink and threw them in a ditch.  I stole them from this stupid fat guy’s store and I didn’t want them anyway.”  With every word, Tyrion and his officers grew more pale.

     “You are merely a child,” said the elven general incredulously.  “The chaos gods would not give the services of their greatest servants to a boy.  If you do truly serve Chaos, you must be hung at once.”

     “I was just kidding, you idiot!”  Andrew bellowed.  “Nothing I have is magical, so you can shut the hell up!”

     “You are a fool!”  Tyrion said sharply.  “I will have you executed if you persist with this insolence.”  Andrew laughed and his face flushed to a deep crimson beneath his freckles.  Tyrion gestured to his officers.  “Take this annoyance from my sight!  We will find out later how he arrived on our island.  Tomorrow’s battle requires preparation.”  The elven soldiers were closing in on Andrew and he took his last chance to make an impression.  He undid his robe and flashed the furious elven lord.  “Take this, hoe slut!” he yelled.  Andrew fell to the floor as he was backhanded in the face by an armored hand.  He was thrown roughly from the large tent.  The guard who had first brought him dragged him unceremoniously to the tent he had awaken in.  Andrew tried to leave again, but his tent was surrounded by guards.  He realized how important these idiots thought he was.  The elves thought he knew of a breach in Ulthuan’s magical defenses.  Andrew would have laughed his head off were there not soldiers within five feet of him.  He wiped away a trickle of blood that ran down his chin and then slept.

 

            Andrew woke up to the sound of battle.  Men and horses were screaming and steel clashed all around.  A huge blade cleaved through the tent’s wall, nearly cutting its occupant in half.  The cloth tumbled down and Andrew was for a moment trapped in darkness.  He kicked himself free and leapt up into a moonlit night.  The guards were hacked to pieces and there was fighting all around.  The slim and agile elven soldiers fought against the hulking silhouettes of Chaos warriors.  The elves were crudely torn asunder by the supernatural strength of their enemies.  Just as reinforcements arrived, the Chaos ambushers disappeared into the darkness.  Andrew fled aimlessly into the forest, wishing he had some cigarettes.

            After some time, he came upon a huge mansion that towered as high as the ancient trees.  It blended in with the forest and seemed to be the house of someone important.  Andrew walked up to the huge building and looked at his surroundings.  The forest was unbroken to the front steps themselves, but there were small fenced in gardens and little squat buildings that looked like elegant chicken coops wherever there was space.  The full moon sent bright beams through the boughs of ancient oaks and all was quiet.  The mansion itself was an earthy brown with vines creeping up the wall.  The corners of its walls were soft and the architecture was graceful.  At its front was a meticulously polished gate.  Andrew looked around for a way to get through it but soon gave up the idea.  He then tried the windows.  They were not designed to open.  Andrew cursed and went into the forest.  He soon returned with a big stick, laughing.  With an evil chuckle, he busted out a window and took pleasure as he saw the crystal shards cascade to the ground.  Andrew jumped into the house.

 

            Windows were everywhere, allowing moonlight to flow generously into the corridor.  The walls were inscribed with elven runes, some of which glowed softly.  Andrew tread cautiously in the shadows and looked around every corner before moving on.  He opened many of the doors and gaped at the luxurious bedchambers.  There were other rooms he didn’t know a name for.  Andrew then entered a courtyard that was behind the gate that he had stood in front of earlier.  A fountain made a quiet crystalline gurgle, the only sound.  On every side were white marble pillars that shone in the moonlight.  Andrew soon got bored of his serene surroundings and went through the skillfully carved door on the other side of the courtyard.  Inside was a tidy and well-equipped kitchen.  Pots and pans hung in neat rows, glinting softly.  Knives were in their wooden blocks.  The tables were flawless and absent of bloodstains.  The spit didn’t have a trace of grease.  Andrew opened the door to a pantry and after roughly rifling through it  produced two loaves of bread in cloth sacks.  Andrew ravenously tore through half a loaf and threw the rest aside onto the spotless floor, scattering crumbs.  Andrew wanted more.  He found raw salted meat and fresh vegetables, but took no interest.  Then he remembered the “chicken coops” outside.  He ran out of the kitchen with a bread bag and into the courtyard.  After a few minutes of struggling, he managed to remove the huge bolt in the front gate and push it open.  Panting from the effort, he strode down the wooden front steps and moved towards the nearest coop.  Andrew was barely able to squeeze through the tiny entrance and had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark.  There were seven geese blinking awake.  They sat placidly in their nests, taking hardly any notice of the intruder.  They had obviously never seen a predator before.  Andrew grabbed one fiercely by the neck and hurled it through the doorway.  He then grinned to himself.  The nest was filled with silvery eggs.  Andrew immediately began gathering them into his sack, but the goose had he had thrown out charged back in and started attacking him.  The other geese began to squawk angrily.  Andrew managed to bring his foot to bear in the cramped space and kicked his berserk attacker out of the coop once more.  He gathered eggs as quickly as he could, but the other six geese started defecating on him.  Andrew threw himself from the coop with his precious sack and landed on his face.  He got up and shouted, “If I had my lighter, I’d burn your fucking house down!”  To his surprise, he was answered by an enraged cacophony of squawks.  Andrew cursed to himself and went back to the mansion.  He cleaned himself of the birds’ whitewash in the fountain, clouding its clear water and went back to the kitchen.  Even though he was still hungry, Andrew decided not to eat the eggs.  They probably tasted like shit.  Foremost in his mind was Lord Tyrion with egg in his face.  Andrew noticed a pantry he hadn’t looked in and immediately rushed towards it, trampling the bread he had dropped earlier.  He threw the door open not to find bread, but a descending stairway.  At the bottom, there was no light and Andrew felt around blindly.  His hand encountered something made of glass and he immediately knew what it was.  “Hell yeaaah!” he shouted.  Andrew rushed triumphantly back into the kitchen with two wine bottles.  He popped the cork and chugged down the fine wine like cheap beer.  When both bottles were empty, they were cast into the courtyard fountain.  Andrew stumbled back down into the cellar and after a long while of loud thumps and the breaking of glass, he emerged with a large keg.

 

            When Andrew woke the next afternoon, he thought for a moment that he was back at home.  His head pounded so much, it felt like someone was beating him up.  He looked around and saw that he was in the kitchen, same as last night.  Perhaps he wasn’t tripping.  The pots lay strewn and dented on the floor.  The knives were stuck in the walls and food was lying all about.  Andrew had planned to steal some jewelry from the bedchambers, but all he had the sense to do was grab his bag of eggs and go into the forest.  After only walking a short distance, he retched violently and his bile sprayed thick and orange into the unspoiled foliage.  He stumbled weakly through the forest for a long while before he came once more to the field of the elven camp.

 

            The Chaos army and the elven army were mired in combat.  Neat lines of soldiers had long since dissolved to be replaced by a desperate random melee.  Thousands of snobby silver mailed elves were striving to hold ground against the countless Chaos forces.  Beastmen, minotaurs, and lesser demons threw themselves against the enemy.  Aha!  Andrew noticed that all the demons were servants of Slaanesh.  With another look, he saw the flailing form of the Keeper of Secrets, greater demon of Slaanesh ripping through the elven ranks.  Andrew sat, relaxed, and enjoyed the carnage.  Shredded bodies flew into the air, trailing blood.  Occasional units from both sides fled shrieking.  The air was thick with missiles.  Demons writhed and lashed about with supernatural strength and energy.  Elven skill and agility was pitted against the raw strength of the Chaos legions.  The elven foot soldiers were taking heavy losses, but bolt throwers tore gaping holes in ranks of beastmen and hundreds of massed archers deluged Chaos warriors.  The air crackled with sorcery as powerful wizards struggled for dominance.  At times, a unit would burst into white flames or be engulfed shadow.  Silver elven horsemen and iron Chaos Knights fought away from the main mass for control of the flanks.  Always at the center of the battle was the hulking Keeper of Secrets thrashing in a blur of destruction and razing its opponents with spells.  Suddenly the two armies disengaged and split apart, allowing Andrew to see the greater demon clearly.  Tyrion rode forth.  A challenge had been issued and accepted.

            Andrew ran quickly to get close to the action.  It was going to be fun to see the idiot Lord Tyrion get his balls ripped off.  Andrew’s smoke singed lungs tired quickly and he slowed to a jog and panted heavily.  He had to see this up close.  His face was beet red and beaded with sweat.  He had to make it.  Andrew was lean, but he ran heavy-footed and lopsided like a fat man.  He almost regretted his last pack of cigarettes.  Tyrion and the Greater Demon were across from each other ready to fight when Andrew reached the split between the two armies.  He plodded down the row and no one from either side took any interest in him.  Tyrion reared his horse and charged at the tense muscular bulk of the Keeper of Secrets with astonishing speed.  Sparks flared against the demon’s dark aura and grated against its solid hide as Tyrion attacked, but one sharp swipe penetrated into its flesh.  The resulting wound crackled and burned from the power of the elven lord’s sword.  The Keeper shrugged off the injury and knocked Tyrion from his saddle with his huge claw.  The elf general got to his feet just on time to defend himself from the demon’s onslaught.  Andrew slowed to a walk and sat down to enjoy himself.  The Keeper of Secrets knocked its opponent to the ground with another bone-crushing swing.  Tyrion sprung to his feet, drove back the demon, and called upon the power of his sword.  White energy flooded into the Keeper and it reeled with a gurgling shriek.  Andrew was deeply disappointed.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  This sucked ass.  He would have to change things.  He reached into his bag and pulled out an egg.  It was time Mr. noble, perfect Tyrion got egged.  Andrew Szczepanski wound up his arm and hurled his weapon.  Just then, the flame stopped and the greater demon lunged forward again.  The egg hit the Keeper directly in the eye and broke with a wet slap.  To Andrew’s horror, yolk began to steam and boil on the demon’s unholy skin.  A stunned Tyrion looked on as his opponent raked madly at its face.  The slimy yolk only slid in the gashes created by desperation.  With a final shrill cry that could be heard from miles away, the Keeper of Secret’s magical substance unraveled and its spirit was pulled in a gust of energy to the haven of the Chaos Realm.

 

  Andrew trembled with anger.  The Chaos forces began to retreat like frightened children, and with the battle finished, Tyrion fell to his knees.  Andrew saw that blood was seeping through the cracks the lord’s armor.  He was horribly injured; another assault would have slain him.  Almost!  In a fit of rage, Andrew began to pelt the elven lord with eggs.  “HOE SLUT!  HOE SLUT!” he shouted.  Angry elven troops rushed to grab him, but he managed one great final throw that splattered in Lord Tyrion’s face knocking his weary body backwards.  A pair of battered elven soldiers seized Andrew and would have slain him at once had not their general held up his hand.  Tyrion, on the ground, spluttered through clinging, dripping egg white and his teeth crunched on bits of eggshell as he tried to speak.  He finally managed to say, “However noxious your presence may be, we are in your debt, Andrew.  You have today saved the whole of the isle of Ulthuan.  I seldom tolerate villains that cast unsavory eggs wantonly about, but… Where did you get them?  They are powerful indeed against evil creatures”

“I got them from this big ass house, Hoe Slut.”

“Search his bag.”  Tyrion commanded his men.  Andrew could do nothing as his sack was plundered.  “Sir!” shouted an officer.  “These eggs are silver.  Only the most beauteous estate of the Everqueen herself harbors birds that produce such.”

Tyrion rose to his feet with renewed strength.  “So that is where you wandered on the night you fled us.  How did you obtain these eggs that we have here.”

“Uh, I kicked the crap out of one of those stupid geese.”  Andrew said lazily.  He told the truth because they wouldn’t do shit to him now.  “You kicked one of the sacred geese of Asuryan?!!!!” cried the officer in a high pitched wail.  “And then stole her eggs?!”

 “Kill him!” yelled the men.  Andrew cowered on the ground as swords were drawn.  “Wait!” shouted Tyrion.  We must send a scout to see what other mischief our prisoner has wreaked upon the Everqueen’s sacred residence.  We have yet to question this disgusting creature of his true motives.  Bring him to my brother, Teclis for questioning.  I shall retire to my tent.”

“HOE SLUT!!”  Andrew shouted as he was dragged away.

 

            Teclis was another narrow faced bastard with a very large wooden pole in his rectum.  He had black hair that was mostly hidden under his tall ridiculous hat and was pale and sallow.  He did not look like his brother, but he was no different.  The mage placed Andrew’s items on the table in his tent.  “Where did you get these magic items.  Did you steal them too?”

“I actually bought most of them.”

“What vendors deal in such wares?  Ridiculous!  Where did you purchase them?”

“Can I have some wine?”

“Absolutely not.”  Teclis sipped from his goblet.  “You will respond to my inquiry without further hesitation.”

“Fuck no!” shouted Andrew.  He got up out of his chair, lifted up the back of his brown robe and mooned Teclis.  The mage’s pale face went livid.  “Guards!” he screamed.  Andrew didn’t care what happened now.  He knew he would soon begin to go through withdrawal from his several habits.  And, the scout would return with an exact description of his deeds at the Everqueen’s house.  Andrew Szczepanski knew this was going to suck like a hoe slut…

 

 

Don’t forget to watch for the next exciting episode of Andrew in the Warhammer World.