Dînadan:
Here’s my entry for Scribes Contest III:
“Where is he?” asked Gibil-Nûzkû, stomping up the boarding ramp onto the deck of the Indomitable which had just docked at Uzkulak’s western quayside.
“Chained up below deck m’lord,” replied Captain Grazsh of the Red Host, tipping his hat in deference to the Sorcerer-Prophet. Uzkulak’s Prophet of the Flame nodded and followed him below. “We found 'im wandering the northern shores of the Sea of Chaos,” continued Grazsh as he led him, “Rambling incoherently about doom an’ gloom. All we’ve been able to figure out is he wandered north inta tha Wastes and stared inta tha polar gate an’ saw something that drove 'im mad.” He shook his head contemptuously, “Nutter’s been writing non-stop, scribbling 'is prophesies all over ‘is cell. Mah scribe has been copying them down jus’ incase tha’s summat useful in 'em.” He produced a scroll from his sleeve and handed it to the bemasked priest. "That there’s tha’ first scroll of thirty in ‘is prophesies, wit’ more ta come."
The priest handed the scroll to an attendant. "What has he prophesied?"
The captain shrugged and gestured at a scribe hunched at the door to a cell using a Goblin as a writing desk. The scribe glanced up and jabbed the steel quill into the goblin’s back to keep it safe. With a wheeze, he stood up and tipped his hat in respect.
“Death,” he wheezed, "The prophesy is Death. Death of the whole world."
Behind his mask, Gibil’s eyes flashed and he snorted with contempt. "Utter nonsense then. No Prophet in the history of our Empire has ever foreseen such a thing; why would this wretch?"
The scribe shrugged. “No Prophet has ever stared into the Well of the Gods and lived to tell what they’ve seen.” He scratched his beard and shrugged again. "Still, what he tells is absurd. There’s the usual stuff about the Everchosen and his hordes sweeping down and overrunning the Manlings to the west. But then there’s the ridiculous such as Malekith becoming the Phoenix King and the Ulthuan Elves accepting him or Grimgor overrunning the Great Bastion in Cathay. He claims Nagash will return and unite with the Manlings to fight the Everchosen and that the Old Ones’ spawn are fleeing the planet, as it is torn asunder, in ships to voyage the stars."
He glanced about and spat a gob of phlegm in disgust. “Most ridiculous of all is that he foretells the fall of Zharr-Naggrund itself! A horde of Ogres and Greenskins will besiege our capital and the mercenary Golgfag will push open the city gates; peppered by shot and bolt he will hold them open so the hordes may barrel in. Like the Black Orc rebellion the greenies will fight their way up each level of Mingol Zharr-Naggrund, but unlike then there will be no treachery that will lay them low. Grimgor himself, hand in hand with the Facebeater and the Green Prophet shall topple the Great Bronze Bull and cast down Hashut’s might.” He spat once more in disgust.
Gibil growled. "Such heresy cannot be tolerated. I will have him interrogated; even amidst the madness there may yet be an isle of sanity or two. After that…he will be given an execution befitting his dishonour; even the Infernal Guard are too good for him. His name will be struck from all annals and his family outcast. His scrolls will be kept and studied to see if we can glean anything useful and then locked away far from public eyes. In time the name Ma’at or the Clan Ord will only be remembered as a byword for lunacy."
The scribe and the captain chuckled, relishing in the downfall of their prisoner, but their mirth was soon interrupted.
“M’lords!” cried a sailor jogging down the corridor, “A message has just arrived.” Panting he handed it to Gibil who read it, frowning.
“It’s from Zharr-Naggrund,” he grunted. "Warpstone has been seen showering the Dark Lands from the sky; all Prophets are being called to a conclave to discuss this news."
Grazsh and the scribe glanced at each other curiously.
“So that part of the prophecy has come to pass,” mused the scribe with a frown.
Gibil crumpled the parchment and let it fall to the deck. “Gather the scrolls and prepare the heretic for transport; there may be more to this nonsense than we realise.”
