Some fluff I wrote for my Witch Hunters. The first one will probably be on the official thingy for our campaign.
I kinda like it's humour, but I don't think I have captured the darkness of the setting enough. Oh well.
Criticism is welcome (mostly... :p)
Friedrich Zoller found himself in a peculiar position. While it is far from the first time he stared down a pistol at someone, it is a very rare that he is in the reverse situation. And both at the same time, well that is positively unique.
Friedrich looked up, so the brim of his hat no longer covered his blue eyes and uttered the full weight of what his brain could grasp at the moment.
“You are pointing a gun at me”.
The man with the shaven head did not flinch nor smile.
“You are correct, sir” he answered.
There was no real reply to that, so Friedrich wisely said nothing. He did his best to look dangerous, but found his attempts thwarted by the mere act of trying. The shaven-headed man on the other side seemed to do it naturally and Friedrich found himself strangely envious of the man.
Slightly before Friedrich had gathered the courage to try a scowl the door behind him opened (most likely a blessing) and a man with a crossbow slung over his shoulder entered the rickety house. With fluid movements betraying his experience, Friedrich took a quick step to the side, never leaving the Shaven-headed man with his first pistol; he pulled a second and put it in the face of the new entrant, cocking it in one swift motion.
The man stopped dead in his track with a surprisingly blank expression on his face.
“Reinhardt?” the man called softly to the Shaven-headed man, “This man is pointing a gun at me.”
A small smile entered the Shaven-headed man’s face, proving him at least not devoid of emotions, easing Friederich’s mood somewhat. If he can be humored, he can be beaten.
“You, uh, you’re Reinhardt Schwartz, correct?” he said to the Shaven-headed man, turning to the other one and continuing: “And you are Johann von Rimmer if His Holiness gave me the right name” an eternal moment passed, then another and a third. But after that one the man known as Reinhardt uncocked his pistol, prompting Friedrich to do the same with his guns (although never completely letting go of one, you never know with Witch Hunters, even when you are one yourself) and stood slightly more at ease.
“Yes, I am Reinhardt Schwartz, Witch Hunter and Templar of Sigmar. And that is indeed Johann the Noble, same vocation. Who, my good man, would you be?” The shaven-headed Reinhardt declared politely.
“I am here, uh, I was sent by, uhm, see, the Grand Theognist…” Friedrich tried to get the words out but they seemed to stick to the upper part of his mouth, like the unfermented bread he sometimes he had to rely on. He shook his head and started over.
“I am Friedrich Zoller, Witch Hunter, recently promoted to captain by His Holiness the Grand Theognist. I have a charter and a mission and you have no witches. I have come to ask you to join me in the City of the Damned to hunt those who would harm holy Sigmar and flay them, lash them and ultimately burn them. This task is too great for me by myself but together…” A smile bared itself on Freidrich Zollers lips, a smile like cats would smile if they could. “Together, we could immolate the heathens and heretics and their foul brethren as were they simply dry wood. Would you join me in this undertaking, Reinhardt Schwartz and Johann von Rimmer?”
Reinhardt turned his head to Johann, who was nodding vigorously.
“Well then,” The Shaven Man said, matter-of-factly, “Which way is Mordheim?”
“So, my good sir, would you kindly tell me what you just did, without lying, without insulting my dog and please sir, without telling me to… what was it
“To take your words and shove them in a hole of your own choosing, captain”
“Right. Do we need to burn your feet or will you tell me anyways willingly?”
“Yes suh, um, sorruh for those things” the brigand said, struggling to hold steady on the small piece of wood keeping him from falling and breaking his neck on the rope that was tightly knotted round his neck as well as a branch above him. “I jus’ thought that yousa seemed to be, uh, dangerous sorta’ folk and that mayhaps me and mah chums…” he would have made a nod towards the corpses if nodding was not the exact thing he was trying to prevent his head from doing “Coulde make us a good deed and stop, uh, brigands from taking money so we could, uh, give it back to tha poor. So see, wesa was really tryin’ ta pretect tha roads, suh!”
“I see. Johann?”
“Oh, absolutely sir, that’s something armed men in the woods do, walk up to dangerous men and saying they want their money to give it to the poor and the needy.”
“Yes, then you must be an honorable man indeed! But of course, there is one small problem…”
“A TINY problem” Johann added
“Very small, but indeed significant” Reinhardt chipped in
Friedrich quickly drew one of his pistols and gently put it between the brigands eyes, who only with utmost care remained on his small stool. He opened his mouth and with broken words said:
“You’re pointin’ a gun at me”
“Very astute.” Friedrich replied. “See, vigilantism is illegal as long as it is not the accursed people of chaos who are behind it. So, by the authority of the Grand Theognist himself and with the grace of Holy Sigmar I sentence you to death for unlawful brandishing of weapons and threatening Templars of the Order of Sigmar.
At this, the brigand could no longer stand still. He fell down, slowly, it seemed. With the eyes of the three witch hunters on him, he made his last jerks and the died.
“Reinhardt?” Friedrich called “Five rounds rapid, two in his head, two in his heart and one in his groin. For all we know he might have been unknowingly a pawn of the Chaos gods.”
Reinhardt gave the hint of a smile, pulled his handgun and replied
“I AM a Witch Hunter you know, I know the procedure”
As the shots echoed across the landscape Johann turned to his fellows.