To Wake the Huntress

Iota Dalling woke with a start, eyes wide as she tried to regain composure between fast shallow breaths. The same nightmare; trampled underfoot by brute and beast. The dreams were happening more and more frequently, with increasing levels of intensity. She wondered if this was what the Celestial Warbringers saw in their visions and portents. Though, she found them annoying rather than enlightening.
It was still and dark in her room, with just a faint orange glow of morning light pervading through the curtains of the window. It was likely chilly outside judging by the hue of the light, a thought she wanted to push away as the feel of thick furs felt comforting to her skin. The warmth and softness of it suited her much more compared to the relatively uncomfortable and unyielding sigmarite armour that caged her usually.
Iota shifted in the dark, but a pang of pain struck her head and neck harder than any combat blow. Am empty bottle rolled off her bed and clattered to the wooden floor of her room, but it might as well been an explosion in her head. 'Slow breaths, steady course,' she repeated the mantra in her head, trying in vain to ignore the headache she bore. Her eyes darted to her doorway and the dancing shadows beneath the door. Her shooting hand instinctively reached for the bolt pistol slung over the corner-post of her bed but she paused as the sound of footsteps came closer; the sound of sigmarite footsteps.
The gentle rapping at her chamber door sounded like deafening thunder in her ears and made her wince and shudder. She pulled the covers over her head, dreading the impending interaction. The heavy wooden door pushed open slowly with a creak as more bottles are pushed aside and toppled over, adding more to her ever growing migraine.
"Bon matin mademoiselle," a voice announced from the doorway, far more cheerful than should have been allowed in her room at this time of the day. Lasair pushed aside articles of clothing and picked up a half empty bottle from the ground as he took a few steps into Iota's room. She let out an audible groan and made no effort to hide her displeasure from the Lord Arcanum. He sniffed at the contents of the bottle, his nose wrinkling at the smell, "My apologies if I'm interupting your recovery from your latest misadventures, but I have some news from ze council you may be interested in."
She sat up slowly in her bed, curls of long pink hair hanging over her shoulders in disarray. "The council convened without me?" she asked through clenched teeth. He radiated with a warmth that filled the room and made it feel heavy like hot humidity. She wondered if all bright wizards had this aura about them, or if his was amplified being a Stormcast. Regardless, she disliked the presence he offered in the room; she preferred a dry heat.
"You were invited several times but you never responded so we assumed you were.... indisposed," he replied drily. "Not to worry, ze council would not send you to something unsuitable for yourself," he ignored her annoyance wholly and grinned unperturbed.
"And what it is this honorable quest I've been tasked?" her sarcastic words teemed with venom, but she was still interested nonetheless. Despite the fact that she loathed taking orders, she had been idle for too long and looked forward to a hunt.
"Beasts and monsters gather at ze Pommel coastline. Zey are corralled and tamed by a chaos warband and look to launch a destructive campaign across ze plains. Cities such as Meriano are at risk of being overrun by these forces and ze council feels that ze Pathfinders and yourself would be most suitable in dealing with zis threat," he announced almost ceremoniously with a slight flourish of his hands.
Iota frowned at the idea. Saving a dying city was not her idea of an exciting mission. The fact that they've not identified a monstrous threat also diminishes any chance that she would have a hunt to enjoy either. "The request is noted, Lord Arcanum, and I will take this into consideration," she announced as she slumped back into her furs, "you may leave now." She waved her hand dismissively.
Lasair took a quick drink of one of the bottles, the strength and bitter taste twisted his face as he held it down. "You know, you aren't going to find happiness at the bottom of ze bottle," he sputtered, eyeing the dark liquor with disgust. "I'm fairly sure zat Sigmar has made it so we cannot drink outselves to death. Perhaps it is time to cut back?"
"I could say the same for your smoking, Lasair," she retorted.
"Oui, you could, but at least my vices don't distract me from my duties," he smirked but recoiled as the bottle in his hand shattered, with a bolt sinking deep into the wall behind him with a heavy thud. Iota stared at him with burning intensity while the bolt pistol clicked as the next shot loaded. "Fine, I should best be leaving anyways," he sighed while turning away to discard the remains of the broken bottle. As he reached the doorway, he paused momentarily and mused "you mght be interested to know zat ze warband is lead by a chaos lord on a karkadrak; perhaps a chance for vengeance?"
The door closed behind him before she could reply, but her eyes sharpened with determination. Many might've thought she was driven by revenge on the one that bested her in combat, but something more important was on her mind. "Visions and portents they say," she muttered as the morning light grew stronger.
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Outside, Lasair moved through the halls of the pathfinder lodge quietly. He did not like the boisterous nature of many of the pathfinders and preferred to let them sleep their late night merriment away. The sun filtered through the many open windows and skylights, and the warmth of dawn felt comfortable to Lasair. However, a chilled wind brushed past him, sending an uncontrolled shiver down the spine of the fiery wizard. His eyes squinted towards where the shadows and light met, trying to catch a glimpse of the ephemeral intrusion.
"Must you always do zat?" he groaned a sense of relief. Between the lights, the knight zephyros Seras Shadowfax seemingly appeared from the shadow, her red eyes a stark contrast against her pale blue-tinged skin. Lasair had always thought her appearance dissettling and a disturbing reminder of what spending too much time in Ulgu can do to a person. "I imagine you heard our conversation?"
She nodded.
"Ze council sees it fit that she start leading again, she cannot drink her failures away," he said matter-of-factly. He hated seeing Iota wallowing like this, and pushed for her to be named as the executor, "losing a battle does not mean you absolve your responsibilities."
"In the last battle, her gryph charger was gravely wounded," Seras spoke, almost whisper quiet but with a voice that rasped like ice with each strained word, "she lost a lot of loyal pathfinders, people that have been with her from the start."
"We live in a state of constant warfare, losses are to be expected," Lasair averted his gaze, and pushed past Seras, "if you think zat will hold her back, then perhaps you are underestimating her abilities."
Her hand held onto his shoulder, a firm grip that stopped him from moving. Her crimson red eyes conveyed a sense of worry, searching for reassurance. He gently removed her grasp and continued on his way out leaving Seras in the shadows. "I don't have any reason to worry," he announced walking into the sunlight, "she has you to watch over her."