Barbaros, Southern Swamp, Monitor Village.
The third year since Hades arrived in the South.
.
Mortarion stood in the dilapidated old courtyard, holding up the man in front of him as he was about to kneel.
The man was hunched over, old and blind, one of his eyes was misty white and the other was full of tears.
Mortarion saw many things in that one eye, fear, uneasiness, gratitude all mixed together - the man was almost choking up.
“No kneeling.”
Mortarion said softly.
"You have been enslaved for too long. It is time for this situation to end."
He looked at the people in the yard who were hunched over and shivering, and raised his voice a little.
But even so, Mortarion's voice was like a gossamer in the breeze.
"I will show you a new path."
"Join us! If you don't have weapons, we will forge them for you. If you don't have armor, we will make it for you. Stand up, everyone!"
"There's no need to be afraid of witchcraft anymore!"
"Join us."
People listened to everything this stranger said in horror. He was so tall, big and thin, like the god of death fluttering in the wind.
His words seemed full of magic, and every sentence was full of inspiring power, but his tone was so gentle, like the nocturne his mother had sung at night.
But - most of the humans here have been completely overwhelmed by fear, they have been crushed, they have succumbed, and they are completely unable to think about anything more distant.
Even though the stranger's words were full of hope, the people here no longer had any memory of the distant future, of change, of leaving.
The man in the lead, his name was Reagan. He looked up cautiously at the stranger who was holding his hand.
Those amber eyes also looked at him seriously, looking at an ugly, tiny person who was completely occupied by fear.
"Thank you, sir, for your loyalty. But the fields here must be replanted."
He shrugged timidly, as if the mere refusal would be cruelly punished.
But no, nothing happened.
Those hands were still holding him gently, and there was no contempt or disgust in those eyes. He just looked at him seriously, and then looked at the group of villagers behind Reagan.
Then he let go.
"Okay, the choice has been made."
He nodded and put his hood back on.
Then he picked up the scythe, turned and left, disappearing into the mist.
Mortarion stood in the mist, watching the young man stumbling as he ran through the poisonous fog.
The farther away from the village, the more deadly the gas.
After he left, the young man left the village and followed the sickle mark that Mortarion had deliberately left.
Come on, show me your determination and your tenacity.
Motari was silent.
There was a slight tremor on the other side of the fog. Mortarion turned his head and took a glance, then returned to his original posture.
It’s him. It’s been a long time since we last met.
As Mortarion observed the young man, his thoughts drifted back to the past.
Now most of the strongholds in the north have been taken, except for the area near his adoptive father Nakre, all other northern lords have been killed.
The main stronghold in the north is stepping up production and consolidating territory, so he will have to wait a little longer about the attack from his adoptive father Nakre.
But the current progress of the Death Guard is far faster than Mortarion originally expected.
The key to rapid progress lies in the south.
Originally, Mortarion only sent out advance troops to protect the local people as much as possible and organize armed resistance.
But first Hades alone held off the attack of the southern lords, providing a basis for Typhon and his men to cooperate with other villages.
With the assistance of long-range heavy firepower, this Death Guard vanguard also successfully took the initiative to attack and occupied the lords' territories.
In the battle of the Death Guard, the mission to eliminate the lords in the south went unusually smoothly, and they didn't even need Mortarion's help.
This time, Mortarion came here just to inspect the Death Guard in the south and see if there was anything he could do.
But after listening to Typhon's report, he realized that Typhon was more competent than he thought. He led the Death Guard to successfully liberate most of the southern region.
And now, there are only the last two or three strongholds left.
Then there would be no Mortarion.
Mortarion would not directly ask Typhon to give up his leadership. He was not a tyrant like his adoptive father. He gave his subordinates enough space to allow them to grow on their own and win their own glory.
What's more, he is friends with Typhon.
So Mortarion continued to let Typhon lead the south, while he went to look for those small villages that were deliberately ignored because of the terrain.
Just like in the beginning, Mortarion killed the monsters that attacked the village and then entered these small villages to lobby.
Thinking of this, Mortarion frowned unconsciously.
Abandon these small villages on the edge and capture or integrate the larger human strongholds.
This is indeed an effective strategy, and Typhon is very smart.
But it shouldn't.
Every potential fighter should not be ignored.
So here comes Mortarion, wandering through the little villages—
—The young man in the mist knelt down. He struggled tremblingly in the mud, his limbs twitching, and he seemed to be trying to climb forward.
Strong child.
The young man never looked back once.
He never thought of retreating.
Mortarion thought as he strode forward quickly, pulling out a wool mask soaked in herbal wine.
He walked over and carefully lifted the young man from the dirty ground, while pressing the wool mask over the young man's mouth and nose, he looked at him, looked at a strong fighter.
"If you don't look back, you will continue to suffer like this in the future."
Mortarion said softly,
"This hurts, are you strong enough?"
The young man struggled to breathe, anger and unwillingness squeezed him, his breathing began to become rapid, rapid to the point of danger -
"Make me strong enough."
After squeezing out these words with great difficulty, the young man finally passed out and gave himself wholeheartedly to Mortarion. He certainly believed in this stranger who had just appeared in his life for less than two hours.
.
Mortarion picked up the young man with ease and returned along the same path they had come.
There's no need to worry about the young man, as long as he wears a mask that filters out the poison gas, the Barbarus will be fine soon.
Sometimes all the resilient people of Barbaros need is a little clean air.
The thick layers of white fog kept tugging at the corners of Mortarion's clothes, as if trying in vain to keep the god of death in place.
Mortarion ignored the mist and kept moving forward without hesitation.
But when he reached a depression where the mist was gradually disappearing, Mortarion stopped and looked in that direction -
A figure emerged from the dense fog in the distance.
It was his old friend, Hades.
I have created a Warhammer chat group. Welcome to discuss the plot, Warhammer combat power, etc. 287540541
This chapter is a reference to the short story "The Horus Heresy - Unity" by the Barbarus-born Death Guard Vorx.
Yes, that young man is Vox! (A very famous defender, but later he became a stinky can, sad.jpg)
(End of this chapter)