Andrew in the Warhammer World
Episode 2

By Zygmunt

 

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    When Andrew Sczcepanski first arrived in the Warhammer World, the pain of alcohol withdrawal had been suddenly and pleasantly removed.  Now, all his neglected habits were taking their toll at once.  His needs were not being met.  He was dying.  Spasms of sweat and tears shook him more strongly with every day.  Andrew faintly remembered that he was now in a clean but bare prison cell but his pain dominated all of his senses.  It was more than pain.  It was a physical, mental, spiritual need.  How could people in this fucking world live without drugs.  As Andrew groaned he remembered how only his inadvertent good deed had saved his ass.  They would have executed him if he hadn’t slain the greater demon of Slaanesh.  The scout returned from the Everqueen’s mansion and tears of anger coursed down his pale face as he recounted Andrew’s callous acts of desecration.  Immediately afterwards, Teclis, Lord Tyrion’s brother publicly denounced him.  Instead of partying and drinking wine that night, Andrew had been thrown into his cell.  It was now impossible for him to know how long he had been there; at the moment he was only aware of the chill from the dungeon floor seeping into his left cheek.  He opened his eyes and shut them quickly as morning sunlight lanced through his pupils and slammed into his throbbing brain.  Andrew dragged himself to a shadowed corner of the room where he could suffer undisturbed.

 

A servant nimbly plucked Tyrion’s dishes from the table as he consulted with the royal physician.  The white robed Corius the Wise politely waited as the golden-haired elven lord delicately wiped his mouth with a silver silk napkin.  Tyrion took a last sip of wine and cleared his throat.  “The slayer of the greater demon has been gravely ill for some time now.  He eats almost nothing and may even perish before he recovers.  It would be a dishonor upon my household if even a barbarous creature such as he were to pass away under my charge.  We have tried all the usual remedies for ordinary sickness, but his condition is not quite like any of the familiar maladies.”

“What sort of evils does the sickness wreak upon him?”

“He is seized by vigorous fever and trembles with cold sweat.  He groans and rolls about as though lances pierced his heaving sides.  He cries out for certain comforts that we have no knowledge of.”

Corius squinted in thought before replying “It seems that I must examine this human to divine the cause of the ill.”

Andrew heard the door open for the first time since he had first been thrown into his prison.  He turned over to see an ancient, elf with snowy white hair falling about his equally white robes.  He carried a bulging leather pouch slung over his frail shoulder.  Andrew managed to prop his back up against the wall and stared at his visitor.  “I am Corius the Wise, royal physician.  I am here to help you with your sickness.”

“Y’mean you got some weed?”  Andrew whispered.  Even that made his head hurt.

“Any kind that could be useful in curing you whether it be crimsonweed, daffilweed, sorlweed, or halsomweed.  There are many types that could be of help.”

“Just weed.”

“I fail to wholly grasp your meaning, but I judge that a mixture of wyvernclaw root and Ilyrias pine sap infused with a pinch of dried egg yolk dust would be the best remedy.”

“Just give me some weed.”

Corius ignored Andrew and he pulled a chipped stone bowl and pestle from his sack along with bundles of dried roots and vials of plant stalks.  Andrew saw with disappointment that there were no narcotics he could identify among the physician’s belongings.  Corius knelt down upon the floor, shining brilliantly in the ray of sunlight as he ground the ingredients.  The earthy spice of the roots and the fragrance of the pinesap filled the cell as he worked.  Andrew closed his eyes and sank once again into his misery.

            He was brought to his senses again by Corius’ long delicate hands forcing his jaw open.  The pungent scent of the cure filled Andrew’s nostrils.

“Get away from me” he mumbled.  “I’m not eating that sh-“  A single spoonful of the substance completely immobilized his tongue with sticky pinesap strings.  While he gasped, more of the cure was ladled into his mouth.  Though Corius was a very old elf, Andrew was far too weak even to try spitting the stuff out.  “That is all that you will be given at this time.”  Said the physician.  He repacked his medicine bag and a guard opened the cell door so he could leave.

            Andrew was left with bitterness slowly seeping down his throat.  Its pungent vapor singed his nostrils.  He curled up on the floor and waited for the medicine to take its course. 

The slot at the bottom of the door opened and a steaming plate with a lightly cooked portion of venison and salad was deposited into the cell with a cup of water.  “Andrew, you must eat.  The medicine will allow your delicate stomach to tolerate nourishment.”  Corius’ footsteps faded down the hallway.  Andrew knew his body was in need of food, but lately, there had been more pressing needs.  He dragged himself to the food and nibbled on some of the deer meat and sipped at the water.  All his previous attempts at feeding himself had ended in vomiting.  The stuff he had just swallowed somehow forced his stomach to hold solid food.  Andrew ate without worry and he felt a little of his pain dissolve.  Starvation had not been helping him much.  In a short time he had taken in every last clinging string of meat and crunched through the salad.  He licked the juice from the plate and wiped his greasy chin on his sleeve.  Andrew sensed that the worst had been endured and that the recovery had just begun.

 

***

“My champion, I wish to see this villainous human who violated my dwelling and yet slew the evil one.”  Said the Everqueen to Tyrion. “Now that he is recovered, allow him to come to one feast.  We should give him a formal farewell before we send him back to the continent of the humans.”

Tyrion raised his bowed golden head and looked upon the woman to whom he had sworn his sword.  “You know not how uncouth this human is.  He could never behave properly at a royal feast.  He is not presentable before any inhabitant of the Isle of Ulthuan.  Great though his deed may have been, he is himself a monster fouler than you can imagine.  The Everqueen sighed, heaving her pale breasts within her green and silver gown.  She looked down upon Tyrion with her large green eyes.  “I am aware that he insulted you and threw eggs at you.  You have reason to carry grievance against him.  I have seen for myself the crude and hateful things he did within my home.  I wish to see this unfathomable human.”

“Then I will escort you to his quarters at once, where you may confer with him.”  The Everqueen pursed her full lips.  “Tyrion, he will attend the feast.”

The elven lord grew pale.  “Is there no way in which I can dissuade you?  You err greatly in your decision to allow his presence among elves.”

“I have decided.” Replied the Everqueen with a faint smile curving her lips.  From his kneeling position before the throne, Tyrion could not help but notice how the silken gown molded flawlessly about her legs.  Oh no! Tyrion could feel himself getting hard.  He had almost made it this time.  His own white and gold robes would not hide it for long.  “Very well my Queen.” He said quickly and then turned to leave.  Another close one.  If she ever caught him, she would no doubt dismiss him as champion and inform the Phoenix King.  Tyrion hurriedly flung open the ancient oaken double doors and stepped out quickly.  Oh no! He had forgotten about them!  The two guards at the door immediately saw the silly bulge just below his golden waist sash and clanked to the floor in hysterical laughter.  Tyrion flushed with embarrassment, cleared his throat and tried to appear casual with his hands over his crotch until it was safe to move on.

 

            Andrew couldn’t guess what was going to happen next.  Two soldiers had burst in while he was using the chamber pot and forced him into this gleaming golden robe.  He looked like a pimp right now if anyone ever did.  Though that wasn’t a bad thing, he didn’t like the expressionless guards that were “escorting” him.  Each of them had a rough grip on one of his arms.  Andrew had long since learned that they would ignore anything he said, but he decided he would talk anyway.  “Where the hell are you taking me?”  The guards did not even appear to hear him.  "Are you both retarded or something?" he asked in a slurred and moronic voice.  Just as he was about to cuss them out, he heard a growing sound of voices down the long marble hallway.  As they turned another corner, Andrew could see that he was being taken towards a large room.  As he passed the final archway, he entered suddenly into a world of sound and festivity.  The dome ceiling of a great dining hall arced high above.  Fluid, twisting pillars and supports wound their way upwards and near the top were huge windows letting great rays of the setting sun fall in shafts of orange and crimson.  The elven nobles were clothed in frosty hues of blue and white and their quiet conversations bubbled delicately.  Light, sophisticated music from harps and flutes added to the atmosphere of splendor.  Andrew attracted glances as he entered in his ostentatious golden robe, but he hardly cared because he saw that there was wine everywhere.   As the guards took him towards the table, he was surrounded by a crowd of haughty nobles who wished for a glimpse of the demon slayer.  Some of them seemed disapproving and others were amazed at the sight of him.  All were curious as they closed in around him, talking in their subdued, polite voices.  They parted slowly before the guards and after one final row of the nobles split apart, a section of the hall’s enormous oaken table came into view.  It was near to the center and the most distinguished of the guests sat there.  The guards pushed him into his chair, and to Andrew’s delight, departed.  He looked up and at once noticed the woman he knew must be the Everqueen sitting directly across from him.  Andrew goggled at her helplessly, even though he knew he had no chance with any elf chick, let alone her.  She had some nice boobs and he was glad that the lower half of his body was hidden under the table.  Then he noticed that the man to her right was definitely the king.  He was a black haired elf with a handsome chiseled face and resplendent red robes.  Andrew was pissed off.  Then he saw Tyrion the dumbfuck bastard to her left.  So, there was already some competition for her.  He tried to put her looks out of his mind but he focused on her pearly face set with round green eyes.  It pissed him off how her glowing amber hair was tied back in a chaste braid.  The Everqueen turned and began to speak with an old elven mage.  Andrew realized she might not talk with him until later and shrugged.  He wrenched his eyes from her and chugged down his goblet of wine.  He began to eat from his steaming silver platter of daintily prepared food until a servant absentmindedly refilled his goblet.  Andrew nearly shouted with triumph in his deep, raucous voice, but he quickly submerged his mouth in the cool rosy wine and poured it all down his throat in a potent rush that seared his stomach.  Tyrion had forgotten to give the servants instructions not to serve him wine.  The servant soon came again, this time serving a liquor that was a clear amethyst violet.  Andrew grabbed his goblet, smearing the newly misted edge and downed it aggressively.  It had been too long since he had felt the burning of sheer excess.  His head was spinning and the world slurred into blurred euphoria as servants continued to thoughtlessly supply him with the best vintage.  He was enjoying the chaos of it all when the dignified noble next to him addressed him.  “You drink the fine products of our cellars with disdain.  I rather think that you have taken too much of it as you are now nearly incapacitated.  I must reprimand you for your uncivil conduct at a formal banquet.  The servants will be notified of your carelessness.”

“I’m fuckin’ all right.  Shut up.”  Andrew drawled.  The noble was about to say more when Andrew reached over, grabbed his half full goblet, and threw the liquid down his throat.  The noble’s narrow face began to flush and his jaw tighten as his anger gathered.  Just then, Andrew realized that the Everqueen had turned her attention to him and was speaking to him in her lilting, silver accent.  “So, you are the one who wreaked destruction on my home and then saved the isle of Ulthuan.  We are unsure of what to make of you.”  Andrew was too wasted to make a coherent reply and he just stared at her dumbly.  She seemed to fill his vision as he concentrated on her.  He thought he could feel his heartbeat keeping pace with the rise and fall of her ivory breasts.  “I can see that you have already offended Lord Elyar.  How can a great hero be so uncouth?  Most of us agree that the isle of Ulthuan is not the land in which you should dwell and that you should be sent back to the human lands.  Do you concur?”

“Yunh.”  Andrew answered.

“Can you tell us what was the cause of your sickness or anything at all of your origins?  Did you have troubled beginnings?”

Andrew saw sympathy in her flawless face and was pissed off.  A servant came and refilled his goblet before the furious Lord Elyar could put a stop to it.  Andrew clasped the neck of the cup with both his shaking hands and brought it hurriedly up to his face.  Damn.  It was always hard to get the stuff into his mouth at this point.   He could sooner have poured the stuff down his asshole.  He felt some of the wine go down his throat as he tipped the goblet, but mostly he distantly felt icy runnels spattering across his face and golden robes.  The Everqueen’s eyes widened with shock as she finally realized what state the demon slayer was in.  And, at the same time, Andrew realized that he had taken one glass too many too quickly.  He might be able to hold it down a bit longer, but then he might not.

The Everqueen’s usually calm voice raised in urgency.  “Guards!  He has drunk himself into a stupor.  Remove him before any more damage is done.”  Andrew heard the tramping of boots echoing through his intoxicated mind.  They were going to take him away and throw him into a cell again instead of his new comfortable quarters.  He hauled himself onto the dining table and began to stumble across it towards the Everqueen in a clumsy effort to escape to the other side.  He attempted to run, but the sudden movement dealt the last blow to his delicate stomach.  There was a sound like water coming up a hollow hose and then a profusion of foul, fruity pink bile spraying furiously onto the most beautiful and sacred woman on the isle of Ulthuan.  The Everqueen screamed in silver despair as hot rejected fluids clung to her milky white shoulders and molded around her breasts.  Her stunned face was freckled with spots of vomit.  Andrew was filled with horror as he witnessed what he had done.  Her gown was ruined.  He was only faintly aware that the king and Tyrion had jumped out of their chairs and were beating the shit out of him.  When they were finished pounding him he felt the mailed hands of guards dragging his half-conscious form.  He slowly faded and finally blacked out as he was carried down the seemingly endless halls.

 

 

What happens to the Andrew next?  Find out in the next episode!