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Pflugzeit -7-2493

After taking the hammer, everything around me changed completely. The sensations of metal, the control over the metallic objects I had been manipulating to slaughter greenskins, vanished in an instant.

The warhammer I had lifted so effortlessly before now weighed as though it were made of tons, nearly tearing my arm out of its socket. I could barely hold it aloft for a few seconds before it slowly descended until it touched the ground.

"What the hell…?" I muttered, looking around. Everything was white—none of the gloomy caves of the dawi karak remained.

"That belongs to me," said a deep voice behind me, as a golden gauntlet settled on my shoulder.

I turned slowly. Before me stood a man far taller than myself, with a thick beard and resplendent armor. He took the hammer with absolute ease, as if it weighed nothing.

"Ah… shit…" I whispered, recognizing at once the similarity to the many statues I had seen in temples and cathedrals. I was standing before Sigmar Heldenhammer.

"So tell me, little liar… do you know how difficult it has been to summon your soul here?" said the god.

"N-no… no idea, my lord," I replied, trying to regain composure.

"I doubt I am your lord. You have never offered me a sincere prayer… I think the term common interests is more fitting, don't you agree?" Sigmar said, circling me slowly, swinging the hammer with ease.

"Yes… I think that would be far more accurate," I answered, forcing calm into my voice.

"Good, little liar. I know well that you have used my name for your politics. Normally, I would have sent a sign to some priest to uncover your trickery… but the more I watched you, the more I saw your intentions aimed at strengthening the Empire I left behind centuries ago. We share the same enemy. Even so, your unorthodox—dangerous—methods leave much to be desired," he said, stopping before me and leaning on the hammer.

"Indeed, we do share the same enemy. And I don't want my soul devoured by daemons, so I'd say we have quite a bit in common," I answered with a nervous smile, feeling his gaze judge me.

"What is your ultimate goal? Do you covet the Imperial Crown?" asked the first Emperor.

"What? Not in the slightest! I hate politics. The farther I stay from it, the better. All I want is peace, that the storm of Chaos never reaches me, gold in my pockets and nothing more to worry about. If to achieve that I have to beat daemons to death, I will," I said, slamming my fist into the palm of my other hand.

"Ha… interesting. Though you are a liar, you may be of use in ending the reign of the Ruinous Powers. As you know—and I do not know how you know this, truth be told—a great storm approaches. It will test the very foundations of all I built. But they will not be alone… I plan to bless one of the children of the Unberogen. When that happens, you must be there to protect him, to ensure he is nurtured and prepared for the great battle," said Sigmar, circling me like a predator.

"A demigod on our side… that would tilt the balance when the Everchosen comes. I'll make sure that when he is born, he is found immediately and placed in the hands of the best masters and warriors, so that divine fragment will be ready," I answered, calmer now.

"Good. Then we will collaborate. I shall overlook your abuses of invoking my name for your own gain," said Sigmar, spinning the hammer and offering it to me by the haft.

"Only one more thing, my lord…" I said, not taking it yet.

"Don't tell me you are going to bargain?" he said, frowning.

"I am a mage. Magic is my greatest strength. Even if I wield a powerful weapon, I still need to use my gift freely. If I could wield my magic in the Empire without persecution, I would finish with the internal threats sooner, reinforce the borders, and we could dedicate our resources to the true enemies. We might even subjugate Bretonnia, Tilea, and Estalia, bringing them under the aegis of the Empire and forcing them to contribute to the great war," I said with seriousness.

"I know perfectly well that you are a mage. And that you have practiced without restraint under the guidance of a lunatic who sought to mimic elven sorcery. But I have seen what you can do… and I must admit I am astonished. Probably the finest sorcerer of Chamon I have ever seen, or at least one who uses his gift in a different way. What is it you want of me?" asked the god.

"A dream for the Grand Theogonist. If he knows you granted me the gift of magic, we will avoid many problems," I demanded firmly.

"One more lie, little liar?" asked Sigmar, still holding the hammer.

"The last one, my lord," I answered without hesitation.

"Pfff… sometimes small sacrifices are necessary to achieve something greater. I will ensure the Grand Theogonist dreams of this conversation… omitting, of course, your many lies," said Sigmar, extending the hammer to me once more.

I reached out, clenched my fist around the legendary weapon, and felt the golden figure begin to fade into light.

"Beware of their traps," were his last words before vanishing before me.

All the white brilliance began to dissolve, and once more I found myself where I had been.

"Damn… my head," I muttered, pressing a hand to my temple as I tried to recover from the conversation.

"So, what in the hell just happened?" said a voice behind me.

When I turned, I saw Katarin. She was covered in blood and greenskin viscera, her face gaunt. Even my griffon was there, drenched in the fluids of the enemy, feathers matted from what had clearly been a massacre.

"An audience with the owner of the hammer… gods, my head hurts," I answered, gripping Ghal Maraz tightly in my hands and feeling the legendary weight of the relic. Around me, the mountain was a graveyard: corpses of orcs and goblins everywhere.

"What happened here?… I only remember a few of them," I said in confusion, staring at the carnage.

"Almost two days, you bastard!" Katarin shouted, her eyes burning with fury. "You stood still like a statue for almost two days! If it hadn't been for me dragging your griffon back down, we'd both be dead."

"Hey, hey… I didn't decide Sigmar felt like having a chat with me," I replied, trying to downplay the matter as I pushed myself to my feet. Hunger hit me like a hammer, gnawing at me as if I hadn't eaten in weeks.

"Fine… we can get out of here now," she said hoarsely, her eyes red with exhaustion, her magical sword still crackling with frozen energy.

"Let's go… I owe you one, Katarin," I admitted, as together we began to climb toward the surface of the dawi karak. My pounding headache made even the thought of using my magic unbearable, so the wisest course was to avoid as many greenskins as possible. But that soon proved impossible: the karak had overflowed with them.

The first in my path was a massive orc clad in rusted dwarf-forged armor. I swung the hammer in a single motion, and the impact obliterated not only the greenskin but also his armor, scattering entrails in every direction.

"Ah… now this is a weapon," I said with a savage grin as the runes of Ghal Maraz burned brightly across its surface. "If it weren't the ultimate symbol of Imperial prestige, I'd never return it."

The dawi runes blazed with every strike, casting their own searing light into the cavern's gloom.

I grabbed Katarin's hand and we pressed on toward the exit, forcing our way through the orc-infested tunnels. Even in the narrow passages, the hammer was divine judgment: one blow was enough to pulp orcs regardless of the scrap they wore. Even the rare ones who had scavenged fragments of runic armor in past raids were crushed as though they wore leather.

Breaking out of the karak, step by bloody step, we stumbled straight into the center of a massive greenskin camp. Thousands of orcs and goblins stared in silence, glaring from tents, palisades, and rocky ledges. The hush lasted only seconds—heavy, oppressive, like the calm before the storm.

"Get on the griffon and don't make any sudden moves," I ordered Katarin, walking slowly toward my mount. With one leap I was on its back, reaching down to haul her up beside me. Once we were settled, the griffon spread its wings and launched skyward just as the cacophony of orcish roars thundered behind us.

"Damn… there's so many," I muttered, glancing back at the sprawling camp stretching to the horizon.

"I don't know…" Katarin said, clinging to my armor. "Like I told you—you were motionless for nearly two days. In that time more and more poured in."

"Damn it… I would've been nothing but a trophy in this cesspit," I growled, baring my teeth as we climbed higher.

"Let's just get back to camp quickly. I don't want to know what happened to you… but I'm starving," Katarin sighed, her voice heavy with fatigue.

We flew in silence. Below us sprawled the wreckage of shattered greenskin camps: ashes, charred timbers, and abandoned corpses. I could make out columns of the Imperial army moving through clearings, confident the purge was still underway.

It wasn't long before we soared over the foundations of the new fortress rising in the pass. From there we descended slowly.

The moment my griffon touched earth, it loosed a hungry roar. Soldiers and men-at-arms rushed to surround us, some running toward me in relief.

"Thank Sigmar, we thought we had lost you, my lord," one of my men gasped. But it wasn't my disappearance that seized their eyes—it was the hammer in my hand.

"Bring a cow for my griffon, she's starving… and bring food for me and my betrothed. We are both famished," I ordered as I helped Katarin dismount.

The men hurried. A cow was led to my griffon, which pounced and tore it apart with a savage roar. We were handed simple rations—bread and roast meat—which I devoured greedily; nothing tastes so good as when you haven't eaten for days.

As I ate, I noticed movement on the horizon of the camp. A solemn procession of clergy approached swiftly, led by none other than the Grand Theogonist himself. His expression radiated fervor, and when his eyes fell upon the hammer in my hands, a jubilant smile split his face.

"Ha… ha… ha…" he laughed with exultation, raising his voice for all to hear. "The hammer of our Lord! Just as in my dream!" He stretched his hands toward me, pleading.

I hesitated for a moment before finally placing it into his grasp. The Grand Theogonist whispered prayers, and the blessing of Sigmar enveloped the weapon in a sacred glow.

"Yes… yes…" he whispered through tears. "The legendary hammer… returns once more to the Empire." Overcome with emotion, he fell to his knees before Ghal Maraz, gazing upon it as if it were Sigmar's very face wrought in steel.

His features shone with fervor and awe as he lifted one of his amulets toward me, seeking confirmation of what he already suspected.

I drew a deep breath and, for the first time in many years, let the magic flow freely. I offered no resistance; I did not hide it or suppress it. I merely channeled it through my old elven amulet, shaping it into a subtle aura around me.

At once, the amulets of every priest of Sigmar vibrated violently. One by one, they clutched their pendants, first staring at them and then fixing their eyes on me. The silence was absolute. All waited for the Grand Theogonist's judgment.

"You spoke… you spoke with our Lord," Yorri said, his voice trembling yet smiling still. "You were granted the highest privilege. He has given you a gift… as I can see… a gift of magic bestowed by Sigmar himself."

His gaze swept across the archlectors before returning to me. "The first mage in all Imperial history in whom the clergy can place full trust!" he proclaimed, his voice booming across the camp.

A murmur of astonishment rippled among the priests and soldiers. Many fell to their knees, others lifted their arms skyward. Soon, like a tide, every priest broke into prayer, chanting hymns of gratitude. The name of Sigmar thundered again and again.

Well… now it's my turn to deliver, since none of this came free.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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