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Vegna Fouroux

Preparation

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The Preparation.

Zrazor clawed his way out of the rivers current which, weak as it was took its toll on his exhausted body. Starving, naked, utterly exposed to the elements but still alive. Zrazor flashed a savage grin. He felt lethal, not angry. He would be the raging waters to the Vanguard’s fires. But this would take time, the one thing he had in abundance.

He raced his mind, one way then another. Food, clothing and shelter were the most important necessities right now. His Ordo “back up buttplug” a beacon which sends a distress signal of any frumentarii operative in the field, had been removed upon discovery in Castle Snow Mew. Zrazor hissed at the memory.

…………………………….4 days later…………………………………….

Progress. Zrazor had quickly established himself as King of the Verklund Hinterlands. He ate what he liked, killed as he pleased, wore the warmest of materials and honestly did not want for any material basics. As I type Zrazor’s story it is truly remarkable upon reflection of how strange man is. One day he is cultivated, dignified, full of noble virtues, Honourable and peace loving, and in two weeks he can change; Become a feral beast a mighty avatar of Mother Nature herself. But on with the story.

It was time to expand his territory. He had driven the snakes out, made a shaky peace with the bears, and burned all the furries he had found to the stake. But the resources of his area were exhausted and he ventured into the deep jungle, ready to “snap any motherfucking Nazi animals” he growled in the parlance of the sector.

Hours in and he was making progress, chopping down thick shrubbery and generally establishing himself through a series of roars and body language. Perhaps I will erect a shrine to the imperator the last remaining civilised side of him thought, and he did.

Selecting a row of Oak trees Zrazor chiselled, hacked, grated and generally toiled for 40 days and 40 nights and produced one of the 7 Wonders of the Second World; The Triumphal Procession of Verklund. Starting out with a statue of Aeneas, it spans the deep jungle following with statues of Julius Caesar, His successor emperors such as Trajan and eventually the heir to this legacy Imperator Vesperia himself.

Just as he had finished the last detail of the Imperator model, Zrazor glanced around. His heightened senses knowing something was afoot. The rustle of a leaf, the breaking of a twig, the sound of prey fornicating, Zrazor knew all these distinct sounds of the jungle and more, but this…this sense was different…

“BOOM HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Zrazor jerked, it had been the loudest thing he had heard in what seemed like a lifetime of quiet.

“AWWWWHHHH YEEEEEEAAAAA.”

He looked up and a shadow of black descended upon him.

He woke up by a fire. “Shit, shit, shit how could I get captured..again? I’m fucking in for it this time, they’ll roast me alive and eat my balls!”

But surprisingly he was unbound. He rose up and turned around just to see his captor arriving into the jungle clearing with more firewood.

“SO AWAKE I SEE.”

The figure was humanoid, an in some kind of black armor, it looked old….but wait!... what was that symbol? The flaming star!?! This thing…man… was a Merczateer! Perhaps some deranged veteran? A rogue light ops who had finally lost it? Zrazor would never know… the figure dropped the firewood and sprinted off. “STAY MOIST SON, AND DON’T TELL ANYBODY YOU SAW ME HERE YO.” The faint purple glow of night vision googles betrayed his shadowy escape, but Zrazor never saw the Merczateer again…

What Zrazor did know was that he was ready. The legions of Vanguard would stand in the way of him and his revenge but his divine faith would hold him through. Ave Imperator.

To be continued.

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