[center][H1] No Good Deed [/H1][/center]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/Lee8Nqv.jpg[/img]


When Hannah Fischer had drunkenly boasted she would rather die than leave Altdorf, it had not occurred to her that those two options might be linked. It had been nearly two months since she had been swept up out of an Altdorf jail cell and forcibly enrolled in the defense of the Empire as a conscript soldier in Lord Barnard Wegindorf’s free company. She didn’t have an objection to people defending the Empire, she just felt, and strongly felt, that this was a job for other people. Also couldn’t they defend a nice part of the Empire. There must be nice parts other than the capital city she reasoned, but the long march had only showed her trackless woods and dirty peasants. Certainly Ostermark wasn’t worth defending, sickly looking, cold, as far from a decent drink as it was possible to imagine getting. It was a perfect place to be miserable in, and Hannah was rising to its level. Her feet hurt from the endless marching, her stomach hurt from the mush that dared to call itself food, and her skin itched from the cloud of dust they were forced to march through. How could there possibly be this much dirt in the air and still enough under her feet to chafe her in her boots.


All these things were, without doubt, terrible, unforgivable, and personal attacks against Hannah’s person, psyche, and dignity. It was also true that every single one of them paled compared to the Orcs.


Thousands of greenskins, every one of them looking like they had never been within shouting distance of a decent tailor, were drawn up on the floor of the shallow valley. Hannah tried not to look at them as much as she could. The beasts were forming themselves into rough squares, in a process that looked more like a riot than a military deployment. Goblins dodged and scampered between their larger kindred, mostly avoiding the sweeps of axes and balled fists of their comrades. Rickety looking war machines were being dragged into place by the smaller greenskins, and bright poisonously looking bouncing animals were being led forward slavering and straining on chains, their clawed feet churning up the earth. Not looking was only marginally helpful, as the howls and clashing of weapons could be heard from, Hannah guessed, the moon. 


“Courage men!” Little Lord Wegindorf called. The silk clad lord was riding behind the line, his hyperthyroid eyes bulging. He wore a suit of armor that had so much gold inlaid in it that Hannah doubted it would be much use in actual battle. His hair was perfectly quaffed and he wore a ridiculous sash of scarlet silk. He had emerged from his wagon exactly three times while the rest of them had been marching, preferring to stay with his wine and sweatmeats rather than dirty himself with the actual business of fighting. Hannah would have found this attitude completely understandable if she hadn’t been press ganged into this insane adventure for the purpose of burnishing Little Lord Wegindorf’s military credentials. Under other circumstances the flicker of fear in his eyes might have brought her a little satisfaction, but given she was one loud noise from pissing herself it was hard to savor the moment. The notional commander of their regiment rode on down the line. Half hearted cheers greeted him as he passed through the free company and into his pikemen. They were raised from his peasantry and had more practice at bootlicking than the scum he had rounded up in Altdorf to make up the numbers.


The Imperial line was shorter than the orc line, and much much thinner. It bent in an inverted C with strong points on several low hills. Hannah and her company were on one such hill drawn up behind a half collapsed stone wall. They were a motley crew, lacking uniforms or even a common weapon. Hannah had four pistols and a short sword that she had taken from the arms chest they had been presented with a few days out of Altdorf. Others held pikes, swords, axes, even the occasional musket, managing to look more like a gang of pirates than a military unit. They were up here on this hill because general Lutz Valhiem didn’t trust them to do anything other than cower behind a wall, a sentiment Hannah completely agreed with. 

Somewhere down the line a cannon boomed, the sound echoing off the other side of the valley in a soft sibilance. Hannah slid down and put her back to the wall, trying to bring her breathing under control. The howling of orcs grew louder as they jeered the imperial gunners. More guns began to fire as the Imperials began trying to find the range.


“Fuck this for a game of soldiers,” she muttered to herself.

[@POOHEAD189]