Andrew in the Warhammer World

Episode 3

By Zygmunt

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Andrew Szczepanski stepped aboard the boat from the silvery beach, his feet at last leaving the shores of Ulthuan. He was grateful to be leaving this place alive after the last incident. Once again, only the fact that he had inadvertently committed an act of heroism had saved him. The high elves had merely exiled him from their land “for all eternity.” Andrew smirked to himself at the thought of this. How certain they seemed that their little land of prissiness was anywhere where anyone wanted to be.

To his surprise, one of the elves, all bundled up in a cloak got on the ship along with him. An elven captain raised his hand in stern farewell and said only “He will guide you through the shifting shoals.” With that, the guards turned around and one by one disappeared into the mist that clung to that quiet beach. The cloaked elf stepped onto the shore once again and stared into the dampness. His shoulders were stooped and he seemed reluctant to leave. Then it got even worse. He knelt down and in a sickeningly sentimental gesture tenderly scooped up some soil from his homeland and began carefully pouring it into a little leather pouch. This was pissing Andrew off. “C’mon!” He shouted. “Hurry the fuck up!” The elf took his time filling the sack and Andrew could sense his companion didn’t like being shouted at. With an indignant humph, the elf climbed back onto the ship and began undoing the mooring lines. Wait, thought Andrew. What kind of elf ever ‘humphed.’ Then he noticed that even with thick layers of warm clothing it was clear that this dumbass was...broader than any elf he had ever seen.

The last lines came loose and the boat drifted off into the lapping waters. The shoreline seemed to disappear into the fog within moments and the elf stood forlornly on the deck. “Hey!” shouted Andrew, ruining the solemn moment. The elf, as if lost in thought did not give any response. “Hey! Who the hell are you?”

“I am Phorthus.” Replied a voice hollowed out by sadness. This was clear and to the point. Andrew sat back pondering what annoying thing he could say next. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

“I am only saying a final farewell to fair Ulthuan. Very soon we shall be entering the shoals.”

“If you didn’t want to leave your shitty island, why did you come with me?”

“I had no choice.” Sighed the elf.

“What do you mean ‘you had no choice?’” Asked Andrew, switching to a retarded voice as he quoted his companion.

“I too am exiled.”

“Cool. Did you kill someone?”

“Certainly not. I never did anything like that.”

“You didn’t even steal anything?”

“No!”

“Then you suck. You don’t deserve to be exiled from that craphole.” At this, Phorthus pulled down the hood of his cloak and turned to face Andrew. This elf’s face was chubby and red-cheeked, a normally jolly complexion that was marred by a great frown and eyes that were red from crying.

“They threw me out and told me never to come back, because....because......because I’m the only fat elf in our thousands of years of recorded history.” Phorthus threw his cloak off completely now, and he certainly did have a sizeable paunch. Andrew was not terribly impressed, though. He had seen way bigger lardasses at Wal-Mart all the time. Still, this was truly hilarious. He fell to the deck laughing until his face turned red. Phorthus’ frown deepened with every second and his face was becoming flushed. He could go belowdecks and cry alone down there, but he had been pushed to the limit today. He growled angrily and gave the boy who mocked him a good kick in the ribs. Andrew felt all the air knocked out of him and a good deal of pain. Now he was rolling about desperately trying to get his breath back. When he finally succeeded, Phorthus was in the cabin at the wheel. Andrew came in behind him gasping. Phorthus was again silent and stoic. “You hoe slut!” The conversation did not go any further. The light that seemingly radiated from the fog became dimmer and dimmer as the sun set on a horizon out of sight and still a surly silence prevailed. They both put together a simple meal for that evening and were eating across from eachother when Andrew asked. “Do we have any wine, beer, or hemp on board?”

“Absolutely not. There was no room in our hold for such luxuries. What is hemp?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “How do people live in this world?”

“It is impolite to simply ignore my question. I suggest you improve your conduct if we are to continue.”

“Listen to you! Has anyone in your thousands of years of history ever taken a shit?”

“Taken a what? I refuse to converse with you if you insist on talking in nonsense.”

“Look. It means to take a crap.”

“Do you speak some other language? What is ‘crap?’”

“It’s when you do this.” Andrew pulled down his pants, sat on the edge of the boat and took a quick and generous dump over the side. Phorthus had turned away as soon as he saw what the human boy was doing and was still scandalized and sputtering in disbelief.

“How can you live with ways that are so crude as yours?”

“Uhhh. There’s nowhere else to go. What’s your fancy ass way?”

“Well...there should be...” Phorthus ran below decks and came up again with even his rosy cheeks drained of color. “We don’t even have a lavender bowl on board. They truly have only the greatest contempt for us. How can they do this?” When he finished pacing about the deck yelling about his misfortune, Phorthus noticed that Andrew had a big grin on his face.

“Hey. When was the last time you took a crap?” At this, the elf’s face puckered up in desperation and it was obvious he was holding something back. Andrew burst out in raucous, cruel laughter again, but this time Phorthus was too preoccupied to hit him. “How are you going to do it, huh?”

“I do... not.. know !”

“Uh, you’re starting to sound even more constipated. Stop being a dickwad and just do it the ‘crude way.’ Oooooh, the crude way.”

“I... can... not .”

“Then go and shit your pants, then. I don’t care.”

“Does shit mean the same thing as crap .”

“ Yes, it does. ” Said Andrew in imitation of the desperate elf.

“Can you go down? ” Asked, Phorthus, pointing belowdecks.

“Yeah, whatever.” Andrew sat in the darkness of the hold for a several minutes where he giggled to himself as he imagined Phorthus face wide-eyed with relief. After he could come out again, the rest of the night was somewhat more relaxed. Phorthus seemed ashamed and embarrassed, but he was recovering from his ordeal quickly. Andrew decided this was the first person he had met so far for whom there was any hope.

Over the next few days, Andrew taught Phorthus about the customs of his people and since they were out on a boat in the middle of a misty sea, the elf had no choice but to listen. One day Phorthus burped loudly after lunch and then announced he was going to take ‘a piss’, which he then did immediately thereafter. “Ha, fishes!” He yelled. How’s it taste?” Andrew was amazed at his companion’s progress. It far exceeded his expectations, which had at first been non-existent. Phorthus paused in thought, though, after he did this and in a few moments he was his old self again. “What sort of filthy scoundrel am I becoming? I should always carry Ulthuan in my heart and never stray from the noble ways of my people.”

“Ooooh, so you’re gonna act like those fuckers who kicked you out.”

“I may have been exiled, but I am still a high elf.”

“Who cares about them? They don’t even want you. Why should you care about them if they hate you? They’re pieces of shit.”

“Pieces of shit.” Said Phorthus under his breath. “You’re right! Fuck them!” With this he turned and gave the finger with both hands in what he reckoned to be the direction from which they’d come. Phorthus calmed down and said solemnly “All my life, they treated me worse than most foreigners and here I was wanting to be like them. They’re not my people. I’ve always known it in a way, but now I cannot escape it.” He sighed and sat down.

Later that day, the boat emerged safely from the shifting shoals and the mists were a swirling white wall behind them. It was clear now that the journey had just begun. “Where are we going?” Asked Andrew.

“To the Old World.”

“Sure, sounds like it might not suck.”

Days passed and both boy and elf were growing bored. There was nothing they could destroy without compromising their survival and nothing they could steal because it all belonged to them. Phorthus degraded from his formerly polished self and became sloppy, greasy-haired, and sunburned. If there was an argument, Phorthus was older and bigger than Andrew, so he won most struggles easily. He was fat, but the extra weight was an advantage nonetheless. In fact, he somehow managed to keep on every single pound even though they were living mostly off of hardtack and stale bread. It seemed he would always be history’s only fat elf.

On one occasion they were fighting over which half of a piece of hardtack was the better when Phorthus abrubtly released Andrew from a headlock. “You are the best friend I’ve ever had.” He said, panting. Andrew was taken aback not so much by the suddeness of the comment, but by the experience of being stuck in the elf’s chubby arm pit. Neither of them had an extra change of clothing or any means of washing except for the ocean. Andrew wasn’t trying to be anyone’s friend here, but he decided he would go along with this. With this new condition, Phorthus might be more forgiving the next time he was given a flying elbow to the gut while sleeping. “Yeah.” Gasped Andrew. “Best friends.” They both shook hands and Andrew did his best to look earnest and serious. He of course did a terrible job, but his companion was in an emotional state.

Events continued in the congenial way they had before as they cut across the ocean. With things going so smoothly, it seemed like no time had passed at all to the day they sighted land. “Laaand!” Shouted Phorthus. He then climbed to the top of the mast for a better view. “Get down from there before you break it, dumbass.”

“Hey! You best hope I don’t come down there! Laaand!”

Within another hour they were bringing in the boat to land and when they reached the shore, Phorthus dumped out his bag with soil from Ulthuan and replaced it with beach sand from this new continent. They both felt strange without the sea moving beneath them and grew somewhat sick as they began to march inland. They hadn’t brought any hardtack with them because they had both readily agreed they’d rather starve or eat berries. They both stumbled clumsily down a forested path on their sea legs and did their best to hold their meager stomach contents steady. Soon, they had arrived at a small, but very well-fortified town. Around its high walls bustled a number of peasants tending their plots of land, and within, a towering keep was visible with a great flag atop it. A number of strong young men on horses were riding about with reckless abandon and stopping every once in awhile to disturb a lowly worker’s labor. Needing something to do, these youths saw at once a perfect diversion as Andrew and Phorthus came down the path. The two land-sick companions found their path barred by a myriad of stamping and shifting hooves. They both looked up and thereby gazed directly in to the face of the leader of these horsemen. He was big, strong, impossibly handsome, and with a head of long flowing blond hair. Andrew hated anyone like this. He was somewhat like Tyrion, but with considerably less finesse and a lot more sweat glands. This man would no doubt have them both trampled to bloody pulp if they looked at him wrong.

“Who are you to come to our township of Aquitanias?” He asked with an arrogant twist of his mouth, an expression which was surprisingly prissy and girlish on his manly features. “I am Thayvald de Champbelours, junior Captain of the knights errant of Aquitanias. Around here, Sir Ledril is at the top. And then there’s me, of course . What business have you two here?”

“Stop being an asshole and get out of the way.” Said Andrew in his dull and disrespectful tone.

“What do you speak of, fool? Why would an ass have a hole in it unless someone stabbed the miserable creature?” At this, all of Thayvald’s friends started laughing as though he had just told a joke. “It seems,” intoned the the junior Captain “More idiots enter into our town with every passing day.”

“You really are a dumbass if you don’t even know what an asshole is.” Andrew retorted. Before he took in another breath, Phorthus was at his shoulder begging him not to speak.

“Obviously,” said Thayvald with an annoyed roll of his eyes “It’s a hole in an ass.” Once again all the other knights errant laughed at their leader’s brilliant grasp of humor.

“Uhh, you’re thinking of the wrong hole. And everyone knows an ass is like your pimply ass.”

“Like a king’s fool, you provide great entertainment, but make little sense. All this talk of holes is useless. And, I don’t even have an ass.”

Andrew at this point turned red with laughter. He had realized that he had just met someone so stupid that he would be unable to find his own ass with both hands.

“Look at this poor wanderer.” Said Thayvald to his friends with a gesture of his hands towards Andrew. “He is so idiotic that he cannot but mock his very self. Let us leave him and his friend to their...” Thayvald acted for a few moments as though he was trying to remember something and then added. “Ah, yes. Their thoughts .” All of the knights errant were guffawing fit to fall out of their saddles and they rode off towards the town.

Phorthus nearly collapsed with relief. “We’re alive.” He said to himself in amazement.

“Do you know how lucky we were that they didn’t understand you? No you don’t.”

“I don’t care who they are. They’re dumb.”

“You were insulting Brettonian knights! They are honor bound to challenge anyone who insults them. They are among the more aggressive of humans.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course you knew, you’re from the human lands. I’ve never even been to this continent and I knew.”

“I don’t live here!”

“Of course you do. This is where humans live.”

“Oh, yeah. I have never fucking been to this place before.”

“Bullshit!” Coughed Phorthus into his hand. “You don’t look like you’re from Araby or even the Southlands. You come from here.”

“I am telling you that I don’t live here.”

“Then where do you live? Stop lying.”

“I’m from somewhere else.”

“I understand that’s what you have me believe. What do you mean! ”

“I dunno, you know, it’s this other world.”

“Oh, you come from another world. Why didn’t you just say so.”

At this point, the argument was over and the two companions continued on their way to the gates of Aquitanias.

 

Andrew Szczepanski had heard of Brettonia before he came to the Warhammer World. Knights in shining armor, supporting men-at-arms, and longbowmen came to mind, but he recalled little else than that this amounted to a boring goody-goody army he had never had anything to do with. Even he noted the uncanny resemblance to Arthurian legend and if he had seen a map of the Warhammer World, he might have noticed that Bretonnia was located where France would have been and that Ulthuan seemed disturbingly like all the Caribbean islands combined into one horseshoe shaped mass. However, both he and Phorthus were penniless, hungry, and walking around in a town about which they knew nothing. Most commoners did not look terribly better off than they were and were unwilling to give alms to anyone, especially to someone who was fat and still had the gall to beg. One old lady leading her last scrawny sheep to the market shook her fist angrily at Phorthus, hunched protectively within the tatters of her beaten cloak and tracked off with a weathered scowl. The only fortunate thing so far was that the elf’s hair had grown over his pointy ears, concealing his racial identity. The elves were famed snobs throughout this world and in parts of others. A beggar elf would not have been well recieved. Andrew, while quite scraggly looking couldn’t help but give his insincere grin as he reached out for charity. This just didn’t inspire the pity of passersby. With night falling, neither of them had any money, food, or a place to stay. Phorthus dragged Andrew out of sight whenever guards came by so they were not kicked out of town. “Let’s try to find some straw to lay down on until the morning.” Said Phorthus wearily. “Maybe they’ll ignore us until then.”

“Fuck that.” Replied Andrew. “We didn’t come to the Old World just to have everything suck major cock. We’re going to find some place better.”

Phorthus realized that Andrew was staring upward at the keep with its torch lit windows. “We can’t go in there without getting killed. Don’t you understand we’re just commoners here? We’re little better than animals to them. That’s what we were all told about people without rank in the human lands.”

“You’re an elf, right?”

“Uh, yeah. What’s your point?”

“I dunno, you could be like an elven ambassador .”

“That would be even more proposterous and unthinkable indeed...but very fun. They wouldn’t ever believe me in my current state. I would formerly have thought the very consideration of such an act to be detestable. But, my views are very much changed for the better.” Phorthus was in fact rubbing his hands in anticipation. “But...where am I to obtain my ambassodorial garb?”

“We can just steal some shit.”

“If we get caught, they’d probably hang us.”

“Why don’t we just walk in right now. They just have to see you’re an elf.”

Phorthus ended up using the crude thread holding closed a burlap sack of rotting garbage to tie his hair back and expose his pointy ears for all to see. They then marched right up to the front portcullis of the keep and Andrew knocked on the metal as if he were arriving at a friend’s house. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but then a voice from a window from above said. “You bang on our gate for admittance? Go away commoners.”

“We are not commoners!” retorted Phorthus. “How dare you suggest such a thing. I am the ambassador from Ulthuan and I demand to enter at once.”

“Well, don’t tap on the gate. The bell is right next to you.”

“My human assistant was perhaps a bit overzealous. Now let us in at once.”

The guard came down and inspected them with a torch and a scrutinizing, squint-eyed expression on his weathered face. Phorthus grinned his merry grin and held his pointed ears to show them off. The guard, after shifting around quickly for a few moments in indecision, had the portcullis raised from within, but it took a minute to do so. “Is it not impractical to raise that thing every time?” Inquired Phorthus.

“We leave nothing to chance in this castle. That is what we always do.”

“Are not the outer walls of this town sufficient for protection in times of peace?”

“No.” replied the guard. “Everything must always be locked. That is what we always do.” Just then, they came to a heavy wooden door and the guard stopped to undo a bunch of bolts and locks. When he was finally done Andrew burst out,

“Damn, it’s about time. What a loser.”

The guard may not have fully understood what had been said to him, but he clearly recognized the disdainful tone. His face somehow tightened up further into even more absurdly rigid expression. “That’s all the main doors. You both smell of refuse and look nothing like diplomats. If you aren’t what you say you are, my liege lord, Sir Ledril will deal with you. This way to main hall.”

 

What could possibly happen to Andrew next? The next episode will reveal yet more of this epic story! If at this point you still hunger for more of our friend’s adventures, perhaps you should question your maturity level.

 

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