Of Battle, Wolves and Winter.

Game Master GM Drachenfels

A grim world of perilous adventure.


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The Great Enchanter

Excellent resolution! I'll get things rolling with some descriptions and responses to the Panzerfaust attack later today probably.


The Great Enchanter

A cheer rises among the ranks of the red shirted Warriors of Wolfenburg as the massive explosion tears a gaping wound in the horrific tunnel dwelling beast. With a final death shudder the creature slides from the under-bridge, splashing back into the lake from which it came.

VICTORY!

Well fought: +100 xp and +1 Fortune Points for the battle. At this point, all actions are Unfrozen. Feel free to Roleplay and add descriptions to the victory scene as we press forward into No Man's Land.


"Hey, hey! Three cheers for the Dwarves!" Aimes shouts. "Hip Hip Hooray!"

"Hip Hip Hooray!" the red shirted soldiers of Wolfenburg chant, responding to the mighty cheer.

A cluster of men gather around Krak and Boom, hoisting them on their shoulders in celebration.

"Captain, we killed it! Did ya see?!" Aimes bellows, leaping up and down in the knee deep waters. "We sent that overgrown sludge sucker back to hell!"

Now forlorn and forgotten, the bobbing head of Viktor looks on in sadness and grief.


Male Human

"Urg..." Njord moans, clambering out from under the fallen debris upon him. "Feel like hit by large bear...We win fight?"

HIP HIP HOORAY the surviving soldiers continue to shout!


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Snotball God

Lackey steps forward helping Njord to his feet, and into the dingy. Rest friend I push you from here, I'ts a small world you know. Keep movink day may ave erd the rukus ve need to be ready for whats ahead.Lackey tosses Viktor's head into the dingy talking to it as he does. Joo may still be of some use Viktor my friend.


Male Human

Njord clasps his hand on Lackey's shoulder, smiling grimly.

"I seem always get ass handed to me," Njord jokes, climbing into the dingy. "Still, we give good as we get, no?"

As Lackey tosses the head of Viktor between Njord's legs, the Norseman looks to his new friend and blinks.

"This one cut above the rest, ja?"

Lackey erupts in laughter. It's contagious. The celebrating parade of badly beaten soldiers march forward through the tunnel. If they only knew the horrors awaiting them, the celebration would be far more subdued.

I'd love to see some roleplay/descriptive updates from Pinvendor's avatars at this point. We're coming up on six ominous days of silence.


The Great Enchanter

Everyone else, feel free to toss in a few updates here or there before we get to the next phase of the action. Like I said before, I'm not looking for part 2 of The Odyssey or anything. Just a few lines go a long way to show interest in the story (see my post in the description thread). But if I get nothing then I'm not going to drive myself crazy updating. It's like I'm roleplaying with myself and my 200 avatar's sometime, heh!


The Trapmaster

Retro Post:

For a moment Lutke's vision seems obscured and he feels wildly off balance and dizzy. The hentaicle had just come off! Suddenly further distorting his view amongst the snapping beak, flailing hentaicles, and shouts of men, Lutke sees the eyes of the Chaos Champion Rekstahl. Lutke hears the mental voice of the demon man in his mind.

Rekstahl the Choice Giver wrote:
~ Trapmaster, EVADE! ~

Suddenly Lutke's vision clears perfectly. The darkness is irrelevant. The shadows and flickering light no longer hide anything. Lutke can see these things as if they are just shapes, colors, abstract concepts which happen to have been splashed upon the color of the world, and for the first time Lutke is has begun to be able to grasp their design and purpose. He sees how the objects connect to vision and how the muscles of the men around him are telegraphing what they will do long before they do it. Their movements almost easily predictable based on the simple physics and geometry of their impending motion. The same was true of the bog octopus which seemed to be curling up inside. Lutke could see the way the ripples of its rubbery flesh seemed to be constricting and drawing together. It was getting ready to unleash something!

Lutke was moving before he realized it. Maybe he had started to move when the image of Rekstahl had appeared. Lutke just wasn't sure. However it happened, the trapmaster attempted to evade.

Ag 40 + 20 Foresight bonus v. 1d100 ⇒ 67 = Failed

The hentaicle Lutke had removed was under the water and still moving! Wildly thrashing, it was curling and uncurling; the suckers grasping and releasing anything it touched. Unfortunately one of these was Lutke's leg. As the tall thin man leaped away, it curled around his leg preventing the dash to safety. Lutke let out a surprised yelp as his movement was suddenly arrested. The wave of burning inky bile splashed all over him.

T 39 v. 1d100 ⇒ 27 = Success

Lutke grits his teeth and manages to separate his mind from the pain. Damn that stupid hentaicle! And suddenly a new trap idea springs into Lutke's mind.


Male Human Captain

Retro Post

Lucas hears a gurgling coming from the hideous and dangerous creature that is tearing his small platoon apart. Lucas sees the creatures beak suddenly open wider than normal and something begins to erupt out of it.

Ag 34 v. 1d100 ⇒ 25 = Success

Lucas reacts immediately. He crouches down to make himself as small a target as possible and raises his shield to cover himself. His quick reflexes and soldierly instincts allows him to successfully protect his head and body. After the disgusting spray finishes, Lucas sweeps his shield through the water to help remove the probably corrosive bile. Standing, he points his mace at the dangerous animal.

"Form for Leonald's Wedge! The creature has spent its energy for the moment. Now is the time to attack!"

Command (Fel 50) v. 1d100 ⇒ 13 = Success

Oh my gosh. If only Lutke could roll like Lucas. It's like Lucas is blessed by a goddess or something. Lol! ;-P


Master Burner

Albrecht clears the muck from his eyes, as the shockwave rumbles through the tunnel.

"Good work Master Dwarves! I wouldn't have thought to be quite so reckless. And what was THAT!? Was like a spell contained in a tube! Haha thanks Sigmar the winds were good!"

He wipes his short blade clean on the fringes of his cloak and sheaths it.

"Perhaps we should get to moving. Incase of any structural damage, or warning the enemy may have received."


The Trapmaster

Lutke blinks as he is splattered with cooked rubbery flesh and watches the whole mess of wailing and flailing, forcibly penetrating hentaicles crashes back into the water.

Private Aimes leads a cheer as the octopus releases whatever soul it had to Rhya's embrace. Face and arms still burning uncomfortably from the irritating ink, Lutke absently begins to splash the dirty, bloody water on himself to wash off the ichor.

Hearing Albrecht, Lutke says, "I think I have to agree...after I collect some of this monster's ichor, of course!"


Male Human Captain

"Excellent thinking, Specialist Krak! It is obvious why Commander Nulner deemed the skills of Boom and yourself were of necessary import on this mission." Lucas nods to both Krak and Boom.

"Sergeant Kafka, take stock of the casualties and divide the supplies and gear amongst the survivors." Lucas takes a breath and sounds saddened. "We do not have time to properly bury the dead. In order to prevent our fallen comrades from returning as servants of Morrslieb, we will need to remove their heads and if possible burn their unfortunate bodies."

Turning to Albrecht, Lucas asks

Albrecht:
"Magister, are you to able provide a controlled incineration, or will we need to leave them headless and hope it is enough?

"Corporal Steinmann? Where are you?" Seeing the soldier salute haggardly, Lucas continues. "Take Private Aimes here and see to anyone with wounds that can be treated. If anyone is too wounded to continue, do what you can and we'll leave them here to mind the tunnel and return to Commander Nulner when they are recovered enough."

I am thinking Steinmann would be one of the platoon's medics.


male Dwarf

Sputtering Boom comes out of the water and wildly looks about just as the creatures makes its exit.

"Huh!" I ze rocket vent tdroo!" Ze penetration brass tip VORKED!! I thought it vud blow prematurely!"

A soaked Boom seems overjoyed


Male Dwarf

Spitting a wad of Dwarven snuff into the water, Krak lowers the bazooka and wipers his chin.

"Right slimy bastad, hope ya rot!"


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Before they know it the dwarves are swept up in the celebration.

Both protest to be put down and that "It were nutin"

But both dwarves are clearly pleased at the celebration


Master Burner

Albrecht thinks for a moment.

"Well, sir, I can't guarantee it won't weaken the structure any more. I think if we bury them and their heads separate we may get by. I would just hate to risk losing our exit strategy."


Male Human Captain

Lucas nods to the wizard sadly. "So be it."

"We must be about this business quickly. We do not have a moment to spare, and I fear this creature of the water has cost us dear."


The Trapmaster

Lutke approaches the submerged corpse of the large cephalopod. He examines the creature and determines the beak area and the hole in its center mass would be the best angle to to try and locate the source of the ichor and perhaps extract a gland or sac.

Corrupted Heal (Int 37)-15 for bloody and murky water = 22 v. 1d100 ⇒ 10 = Success

Oh Wise and Corrupt GM Drachenfels, what does Lutke obtain?


The Great Enchanter

LUCAS:

It does not take long for you to regain control of the situation.

This tunnel dwelling beast had been a very unfortunate roadblock in a mission designed for stealth. And while you're thankful for the handiwork of Specialist Krak, the sound from the Dwarvish Panzerfaust MUST have alerted the Chaos forces to your presence. You can only hope they remain blissfully unaware of the secret passage.

"Sergeant Kafka, take stock of the casualties and divide the supplies and gear amongst the survivors." You order, your voice an avatar of confidence.

Sergeant Kafka simply nods, moving from body to body, gathering up weapons and gear to re-kit the survivors. His face is a stone mask as he begins to strip the body of Viktor. They had been brothers. You flinch inwardly. This is the cost of command, to send men to their deaths. The weight is very heavy indeed.

"Corporal Steinmann? Where are you? Take Private Aimes here and see to anyone with wounds that can be treated."

Aimes, ever eager to gain your approval snaps to attention when he hears his name.

"Aye, Captain." Corporal Steinmann replies, gesturing to Private Aimes as he begins to inspect the wounded. "C'mon hero, we have work to do."

You take a moment and cast one final inspecting look about the tunnel and your men. All in all, the Wolfenburg Warriors are intact, but the losses inflicted are dire. What haunts you deeply is knowing that most, if not all, of the men before you will likely be dead before the mission is done.

You mutter a short prayer to Shallyah, lift your chin, and carry on with what needs to be done.


The Great Enchanter

ALBRECHT:

It is grim work in making sure the dead do not return to life, but somehow you have been put in charge of it. You think perhaps the Captain gives you too much credit. You are not a Necromancer after all and have never made a study of the black winds of magic. Still, you suppose you are the best suited for the job when it comes to matters of a supernatural nature.

You move from body to body, an able handed red shirted swordsman at your side. At your silent command, the man kneels into the water and does what needs be done.

TWHIICK! goes one head. TWAAACK! and off with another.

You turn your back on the grizzly work and inspect the damage to the tunnel behind you. The Norseman had been the projectile that had caused the partial collapse. It will take time to clear the rubble and you are no engineer. Even so, you can clearly see the integrity of the passage has been compromised badly. Perhaps this is for the clockwork minds of the Dwarves to handle should you return this way.

With a grunt, you steel your resolve and turn back to the bloody work at hand.

THUUUNK! and another dead man's head rolls free, splashing into the water.


The Great Enchanter

LUTKE:

No one pays you very much attention as you sulk and dig through the mire where the massive thing had been only moments before. You hear Captain Biedelmann shouting orders and bantering with Magister Albrecht. The other men are celebrating with the Dwarves, slapping armored hands on muscled shoulders. But your mind is set to the task of matters of import! Yes, there MUST be something here left behind.

You cock your head slightly as you lean down close to the waters. You could have sworn you had seen...movement. With infinite bravery (or perhaps stupidity) you reach your hand into the inky pool that had been the nest of the tentacled horror.

YOU FEEL A BITE!

Gasping, you retract your hand in shock. Small trickles of blood drip into the water, forming perfect concentric circles in the mire; wheels within wheels within wheels within...

And then, just like that, IT bobs to the surface. Small, tiny, elegant and perfect; a baby Bog Octopus! It's saucer eyes flit this way and that, it's beaked mouth opening and closing, working hastily to suckle the blood falling from your finger. Gently, a tiny tentacle wraps around your wrist.

The creature gurgles in pleasure.


FOR LUTKE'S EYES ONLY:
~ Ahh, the father meets the child. This was meant to be, you know. The others won't understand ~


Master Burner

"Aye, thank you Herr Roteshemd. Let's leave these bodies to the side here. Once this is all said and done we should come back for them, it would not do to leave soldiers of the Empire dead in these waters. They fought bravely for us."

Albrecht goes from body to body, sprinkling a bit of ash and charcoal into the ragged necks of the corpses. Pressing his thumb to the sides he says a quick incantation and burns his print into their flesh. It is a small barrier, but perhaps it'll be enough.

"Herr Biedelmann, when you are ready?"


Male Human Sergeant

Corporal Steinmann is an older man, a veteran, remarkably kind of heart and disposition for a soldier. War does not sit well with him and it never has. But it's all he's ever known and it's what he's good at. He's as capable in killing a man as he is in patching one up.

With a determined look, Corporal Steinmann moves from one wounded soldier to the next, ripping cloth and tending wounds as best as his craft will allow in the cold cramped conditions of the tunnel.

"Aye, lad. Hold still," he mutters, splinting a broken arm of a Red Shirt and wrapping it tight. "There, that'll hold ya till we get back to Wolfenburg."

"Hey, what can I do to help?" Aimes chimes in, his voice taking that shrill edge that means he's been chewing too much black root again.

"For starters," Corporal Steinmann replies, turning his gaze towards the young Private. "Keep the sharp end of your sword pointed at the enemy. You cost us a life today, soldier. Don't think the Captain didn't see it either."

"It was...an accident." Aimes gulps deeply, looking from side to side nervously.

"Even so, you're a soldier of Wolfenburg. Start acting like one." Steinmann concludes, pushing past Aimes as he moves to the next man in need.


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The Trapmaster

GM Drachenfels:
You know "octopi" is the plural of octopus! Are you saying there is more than one?

Lutke stares at the small octopus. Wheels turn and Lutke desperately prays to Ranald that a large bottle or waterproof sack would appear out of nowhere. Oh the things I could do with you little one! Lutke can't help but think keeping this young monster on hand to place in a completely abnormal and incongruous location in a magnificent dungeon somewhere would be brilliant. Who would expect a bog octopus in mountain temple security vault? Not mention keeping it for possible milking of its skin irritating ichor.

A piece of what was probably the arm of an unfortunate soldier to be killed by the bog octopus, floated up and bumped into Lutke's leg. Lutke recognized the bad tattoo of an ugly mohawked snotling, the letters G-R-A-N with the rest cut off (torn off) from where the bloody stump ended. Absently, Lutke retrieved the arm and hand and held it out to the small monster. It gurgled and its beak began to tear shreds of flesh off the hunk of meat. Lutke's mind raced. How would he ever be able to get this little critter out of here intact and keep it alive?


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The Trapmaster

The voice of Rekstahl chimes in Lutke's mind again. It frightened him. He felt a desire to try and go against the Champion's suggestive comment. But...but the chance! The little octopus would be just too perfect.

Lol, I wrote the last post without even knowing Rekstahl was going to weigh in. How terrifying it was almost perfectly in line with what Lutke was already thinking!


The Great Enchanter

LUTKE:

Fate is a funny thing. Frantically looking from side to side for something (anything) that might work, you see it!

A large corked clay jug; one of the Dwarves deadly brews! It floats past you on the water like a drunkards ship with no sails, bobbing up and down. The etched face of a Dwarf with X's for eyes grins back at you.

~ A fitting home for a child? ~

You leap into the air in shock! It's going to take sometime before you get used to that.

I fixed the Bog Octopi plural confusion. There is ONE Baby Octopus.


The Great Enchanter

KRAK/BOOM:

You are the men of the hour and the saviors of the day! The shouts and songs of appraisal leap all around as each of you are tossed into the air and caught again.

There is much rejoicing.

Finally, the stern commanding voice of Captain Biedelmann restores some gravity (and sanity) to the situation. As the men return to duty with a final salute or slap across your shoulders, you look to each other and grin broadly.

Today has been a very good day indeed. Now, where's that Dwarven brew you packed on the dingy?!


The Great Enchanter

Thank you for the fun roleplay and banter: +10 xp! See? It isn't hard. A couple posts here and there and magic starts to happen.


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The Great Enchanter

ALBRECHT:

INTO THE PAAAAAAAAST!

You did not trust the Farseer, but he himself was far too trusting. To leave you alone in his tower, not even to suspect you and your own intelligence. Certainly, that would be his undoing. You had nearly completed the ritual as ordered, along with your own special touches to ensure that any dark magic would trigger a fitting surprise, when you had felt the book.

here i lay. discover me. look upon me. be enlightened.

You found the tome in a hidden recess behind an old wooden shelf. Thinking back, you're certain the Stone had lead you to it. Wrapped in black Nipponese cloth, the cumbersome tome was a massive affair, yet somehow it seemed as light as brittle bone and as cool to the touch as a midnight soaked blade.

behold my secrets.

Pulling back the silk veil, you had been struck by the sheer beauty of the thing. What a work of art! The cover, front and back, was the shell of a long dead sand scarab, it's interlocking jaws wrapped around the outer folds of the book, acting as a clasp to keep the mysterious grimoire closed.

i am as water to the thirst of a dying man. drink of me.

CLACK! the great jaws of the tome snapped open without a single command, the chittering mandibles of the long dead scarab wriggled and writhed, nipping at the pages as you flipped the cover back, revealing...

i am the beginning and the end. know my mysteries.

You had felt a thousand things at once. This relic, this tome, was incredibly old. You could smell a thousand years of incense waft up to your nose, you could feel the grit of Arabian sand upon each page.

i am as eyes to the blind. look upon me.

The knowledge! The power! The sheer depth of history and glory! You realized in one sweeping moment that this was in fact one of the great texts of Nagash himself!

open your mind to me and toget--

YOU SLAM THE BOOK SHUT! Your eyes had grown wide with dread and horror and lust. How long had you stood there reading from the pages? It had felt as if days had passed, and yet it had still been dark outside. Perhaps just a moment then?

Tucking the ancient relic back into the folds of its silk covering, you had quickly hurried from the tower that night, your new found possession lovingly cradled in your arms.

and so it begins.

Embrace the horror. Necromancy it is. This should prove interesting.


AND BACK IN PRESENT TIMES, BENEATH THE BRIDGE OF WOLFENBURG...

Left alone to his down devices, Aimes angrily glares at the back of Corporal Steinmann as he pushes past. Reaching into his tunic pocket, Aimes pulls out a small piece of black root and gives it a good tug with his teeth. He begins to chew. Moments later he can feel a wash of courage and resolve pass over him. Artificial as it may be, black root always made the young Private feel better.

"Well, I'll show you who's a good soldier. You'll see." Aimes mutters, moving off to a corner of the tunnel where he begins to inspect his supplies. Had he lost it in the struggle? Was it-- "Ah, here it is!"

Packed into the bottom of his soldiers bag, surrounded by the mundane trappings of his profession, Aimes could see the small jade statuette peering up at him with its mischievous smile, perfectly carved and lovingly crafted. The sweet tang of lust and sweat and carnal pleasures hit the Private's privates all at once! Quickly, he closed the backpack and tied it shut.

It had been a gift from the Lady Gravin herself! Aimes had been a different man when he had first met her early this very year. He remembered himself being brave and bold and incorruptible, even having the confidence to resist her, at least for a time. But she had broke him of that. Aimes shudders, remembering things best left to the pages of some harlots journal, reaching for another piece of black root to sooth his nerves.

"It shall be done, m'lady." Aimes mutters to himself, rocking back and forth. "Your wish is my only desire..."


Master Burner

As Albrecht walks amongst the dead and moves their bodies to sit against the tunnel walls he feels the first vibration. Deep, as if coming from his own bones it shakes his leg outwards. he book. He puts it out of his mind. He will study it later, that is assured. A tome of Nagash! How he could not believe his luck! It was a lore of necromancy, something the powers that be seem to be letting loose rampant on the world once more. If the enemy has it, then the Empire would need it as well, whether they knew it or not.

Albrecht is powerful, he knows he has the potential for greatness. But maybe, maybe its not in the Bright Order. Necromancy is a Dark Lore, but it is not Chaos. He would not cross that line no matter the cost, he assured himself. Those ruinous beings have plenty on their side, Sigmar and the Empire needed him. Even if he had to support them in...less than holy ways.

Albrecht moves the bodies and in a flash he knows how to keep them from rising, the book seems to be feeding into his mind directly in quick bursts of enlightenment. He seals his thumbprint against the throats of the deceased he knows it will mark them, keeping any other possible necromancers at bay, binding them to his use. Not that he would raise these souls again. He dared not. But preventing them from coming back under someone else's control

He finishes his work and begins to shift his gear, ready to continue the trek into the very maw of the enemy when it strikes him.

1d100 ⇒ 40 vs WP

1d100 ⇒ 62 vs Perception!

The stone, it seems to be reacting to something in the area. Albrecht makes note and quickly glances about, looking for perhaps a vein of the stone in the walls, perhaps the bog octupus is imbued with it? Aimes is shifting his gear tucking something away Albrecht's eyes quiver as they pass him by, the dwarves are filling their mouths with good drink and Lackey is partaking, He sees Lutke fiddling with something in the water... No! Lutke cannot handle the substance! He mustn't! It will corrupt him surely! Mere men cannot posses it!

Lutke/GM Drachenfels:
Albrecht approaches you, sloshing through the water. He begins to whisper:"Lutke... What do you have there? I will not bring it to the attention of the rest of the men, for I know you to be a good man at heart, just be rid of it! If it is what I believe it to be... You must be rid of it! I know even now it clings in your hands, wrapping them gently in some sort of childish embrace of devotion, but it is not! It is dangerous and to the untrained mind can scorch the very soul out of you! You may think I am being melodramatic but believe me when I say I know the effect of such a thing! It will wrap its suctioned tendrils into your very skull and pull forth your will, twisting it to its own ends!"

Albrecht seems to think bog octupi are the very entity of Chaos' nightmares! He is surely confused, it is but a beast!


The Great Enchanter

ALBRECHT: Awesome (and unexpected) weekend update! Seems the book has you thinking. Excellent! +10 XP! The Den calls, but I'll respond once I return. Looking forward to seeing what you and Lutke do about the new baby. You two would make adorable parents!


BACK IN IMPERIAL HELD WOLFENBURG...

Sir Brechton could not believe the news was true, yet here he was marching through the darkness, preparing to deliver the bad tidings to Commander Nulner personally.

Deep in thought, Adrien Brechton had hardly paid any attention to his surroundings. Rounding the corner suddenly brought him into the officers district and in view of what appeared to be the Farseers tower. It was nothing now but a smoldering skeletal finger! Sparks and embers fell from the smoking wood frame, the gutted structure a ghost of its former self.

"By the Ladies blessing," Sir Brechton mutters. "What happened here?"

Pushing past the scurrying fire teams, the Bretonnian knight stands for a long moment, fist raised, preparing to knock upon the door of the Bloated Dragon...


"What do you mean, gone?!" Commander Nulner nearly choked. He could not believe the news he was hearing.

"Uh, yes sir. Gone. Right out from our very noses." Sir Brechton replied, his face a mask of regret and confusion. "My men never left their watch. One moment he was there, and the next..."

"And the next moment he simply vanished?" the Commander replied. "How is that even possible?"

"Sir, this is a question that vexes me greatly."

The silence that hung between the two men was nearly fatal. The enigmatic Champion of Tzeentch had been held under the providence of Commander Nulner himself, and now this Champion had apparently, on a whim, disappeared; whereabouts unknown.

Sir Brechton was the first to break the silence. "Perhaps if you had sent me more to work with other than a locksmith this may not have happened?"

The stare Commander Nulner gave the man was withering. Regardless, he let this slight insubordination slide, taking long moments to steady his rising anger before replying.

"I had it on high authority that the locksmith was, in fact, the right man for the job. But yes, it would seem he has failed. Regardless, this news will not sit well with the emissary of Sigmar, Brother Pieter. Nor will the Gravins pet Witch Finder find this very amusing."

"Well, perhaps some good news." Sir Brechton counters, trying to muster a smile. "Word has it that the Lady herself sent Harlen Vesh back to Nuln. Apparently he has fallen out of her favor..."

Commander Nulner raised his eyebrows at this, "That is interesting, and one might say it's never wise to invoke the Gravin's wrath. And yet, this is not our true concern. Sir Brechton, mobilize every man you can spare and find that Chaos Champion! He cannot be allowed to roam free if we can help it."

"Aye sir!" Sir Brechton responds curtly, snapping to attention before turning on his heel, marching from the Commanders private quarters.

Commander Nulner watched the man go. First the Farseers sudden death and now this. Things were unraveling rapidly. He could only pray to the Gods that Captain Biedelmann was able to carry out his mission to silence the Hellcannon.


FOR LUTKE'S EYES ONLY:
~ They'll never find me you know. Part of me lives within you now. Together we shall do wondrous things ~


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AND YET AGAIN, ELSEWHERE, TO THE ESTATE OF THE LADY GRAVIN. THE EYE OF THE RAVEN IS BUSY...

In times of war, it was always difficult to find good servants and worthy entertainment. Here, on the ass end of the frontier, The Lady Gravin Maria-Ulrike von Liebewitz of Ambosstein had to make due with what she had. Gathered with the rest of her meager host of lords and ladies, squires and sycophants, the Gravin sat on a raised dais to watch the evenings entertainment; she nearly choked on the word.

The capering jester her Master of Entertainment had hired from the city streets tumbled into the room foolishly. He was nothing more than a half leprous painted drunk. The Gravin was nearly of the mind to hang the man on the spot. That would certainly liven things up.

"And now, for your pleasure Lords and Ladies..." the jester began.

"This is not for their pleasure, it is for mine!" The Gravin responded coldly, "Idiot..." It pleased her to torment this man. Yes, this would make due for the moment.

"Uh, of course m'lady Gravin," the jester replied, bowing low. He nearly fell over. A great laugh ripped through the room. The man looked ashamed. "Ahem--And now, for your pleasure Gravin I--"

"You will use my full and proper title," the Gravin responded, raising an arched eyebrow. It was her tell. She was about to do something unpleasant.

"Uhhh, oh, yes..." the fool stammered. "The, uh, Lady Emanuelle Ulrike--"

"THAT IS NOT ME! THAT IS MY DEAR AUNT!" the Mistress of Ambosstein howled in mock rage. She was enjoying herself now.

The room was deadly quiet now. The Gravin continued, "Master-at-Arms?"

"Yes, m'lady?" the Master-at-Arms replied, stepping forward with a curt salute, a long halberd held high bore the banner of the Gravin's proud house.

"This...man disrespects me. He will either address me by my proper title or you will kill him where he stands. Do you understand?"

"Yes, m'lady!" the soldier replied quickly. He was far too used to this kind of order to even consider disobeying.

"And now," the Gravin purred, leveling her gaze upon the sweating jester in the center of the room. "Carry on! Start from the beginning."

Needless to say, the poor man did not make it past the first lengthy title. He was dead before he hit the floor. Men and women loudly applauded as a pool of blood spread like a red mirror on the marble flagstones. A pair of guards appeared from nowhere and swept the body away down through the servants quarters.

"Ahhhh, well! Some excitement at last?" the Gravin said magnanimously. This tickled the fancy of the crowd who began to laugh. "What's to be next? Ah, send in the minstrel!"

The next man to appear was thin and fail, nothing more than a ghost. His lank red hair hung like wet razor lines down an otherwise handsome face.

"M'lady Gravin Maria-Ulrike von Liebewitz of Ambosstein," the Master of Entertainment said with a smile and a bow. The man knew his mistresses title well and was wise enough to wield it properly. "May I present to you Caspar the Red, Bard of the Balustrade, Warrior of Wolfenburg and lover of the unloved!"

A general gasp of interest filled the room. Caspar did not so much as stir, his face a mask devoid of emotion or insight. In his hands he carried a freshly painted lute, one that Gretta herself had found in the ruins of an abandoned inn. It had been in bad shape, but a little red paint and some tender attention had done wonders. Caspar clutched the thing like his life depended on it.

"Where did you find this man?" the Gravin asked, sizing up Caspar as a panther ponders it's pray. "He is not much to look upon, yet somehow I find his features...interesting."

"Ah, he is a veteran of some many battles we think, Gravin. He was found at the Hospice of Shallyah under the care of a young initiate. And indeed, he is not much to look upon. But when he sings and plays--It is a thing to behold!"

"Well then," the Gravin smiled. "Let us hear a song then. Proceed..."

Caspar's slender fingers began to work over the frets of the lute then, moving slowly at first, carefully, as if he were caressing the face of some long forgotten lover. It was a somber song, an odd counterpoint that seemed strangely fitting to near manic (and deadly) joviality of the court. The Lady Gravin and her servants sat attentively, listening, watching, taking in the entire scene with peaked interest. To Caspar, who was in truth only half aware, they seemed like a flock of vultures dressed in the fine robes of lords and ladies.

For some time the song played on like this, riding the hills of its somber tempo up and down, until at last the song was nearly at an end. Tears began to fill the eyes of those who listened and watched. It was only then that Caspar began to sing, a strange stanza of lyrics that had been repeating in his head over and over and over--

"Soft comes the wizard, burning from orange to blue
Large comes the player, changing them through and through
Angry falls the cleric, stifling what's within
Dumb falls the singer, failing now to grin
Strength to dwarven cannons, folly to the drinks
Blinded to the danger, captain beware the lynx
Lackless runs the tinker, to be played the fool
Bloody fights the Fate, let Lord of Chaos rule!"

The song ended. Silence. The Lady Gravin Maria-Ulrike von Liebewitz of Ambosstein stood from her seat then, her long form fitting robes flowing behind her. She began to clap, slowly at first, the others in the room soon began to follow suit.

"Caspar the Red is it?" the Gravin said at last, her face filled with awe and wonder. "Well played, sir. Well played! Master-at-Arms?"

"M'lady?!" the soldier snapped to attention yet again.

"I think I'll keep this one. Make sure all his needs are met. I want him fed, bathed and dressed, in my livery mind you, awaiting me in my chambers as soon as you are done."

"Yes, m'lady!"

For the first time in a long while, Caspar blinks...


"Taken?! TAKEN?!" Gretta shrieked. There was no consoling her. Caspar, her love, was missing!

"Be at peace young one," Sister Emanuelle chided Gretta softly, placing her hand on the young initiates shoulder. "There was nothing for it. It was upon the Gravin's orders. A wretched woman, yes, but she wields considerable power."

"And so you let them just...TAKE HIM?!" Gretta shouted, rage flushing into her face like a red wave.

"If you would just take a moment and--"

Gretta stormed out of the hospice in tears, howling in anger and sadness. How had she let this happen?! How could she...

Sucking in her breath, Gretta lifts her chin suddenly, the tears stopping almost at once. With an act of defiance she begins to tear off her white cowl and habits, tossing them in the gutter at her feet.

"So that's how it is?" she muses coldly, her voice like the cutting edge of a poisoned blade. "We'll see about that. Hold strong, Caspar my love. I'm coming..."


The Great Enchanter

Ok, not to slap myself on the back here but I think the Gravin's update may be my finest work yet! I hereby award myself +200,000 xp! I kid, I kid. But I hope you all enjoy the story. I tried to pull in various elements and I think it worked well.

P.S - Did I mention the Gravin is MY FAVORITE NPC of all time? She's so wonderful and so very kind hearted too, oh wait--


...ummmm poor poor Aimes :(

GREAT job with all the NPCs Gabe! :)


The Great Enchanter

Thanks, Dagon! That being said, I've jumped off on a tangent and I'll need to get an update lined up that's more relevant to the immediate story. I'll have that posted soon.


The Great Enchanter

OUR STORY CONTINUES, BENEATH THE WOLFENBURG BRIDGE...

Together as a unit you march onward through the wet darkness of the under-tunnel, whispering your final respects to those men of the Empire who did not make it. Soon, the entire bloody scene is behind you, the outstretched passage ahead like an ominous throat leading deeper into the maw of some fearsome beast.

"Gods, what do you think we'll find waiting for us on the other side? Do you think they heard us?" Aimes mutters fearfully.

"Stow that chatter, Private." Corporal Steinmann replies, his old face a grim mask of worry. Too many men had died and he felt the weight of each one on his shoulders. "Stay focused and be ready."

The steady plodding march of booted feet continues on for some time, the slivers of your storm lanterns dancing this way and that. Slow but sure you get the feeling that you're on an incline, and sure enough, the waters at your knees begin to recede.

"Getting a bit cramped in here ain't it?" Herr Roteshemd curses, bending low. He'd always been a tall man and these conditions are cumbersome for him at best.

Casting slow glances about the darkness you can see that only the Dwarves appear unconcerned about the sudden change in situation. Soon enough, however, the tunnel seems to compensate and the roof rises up and away from you once again. The stone floor beneath you crunches under foot as you pass, covered with age old dust and dirt.

Ahead and to the right, glistening from the moisture in the passage, an old iron door suddenly springs up from the shadows! Beyond, No Man's Land...

"This is it," you hear Captain Beidelmann say. "Kill the lanters, weapons out. Be ready for anything on the other side. Get through the door fast. We're sitting ducks here."

3, 2, 1 - the door is flung open!


The Great Enchanter

I know I've described nothing of what lies beyond. That's part of the drama of the scene. Try to toss in a few updates if you can about what your character is thinking/feeling/doing as he rushes through the door into an unknown fate.

I get an almost Beaches of Normandy type of feel here, though let's hope the forces of Chaos aren't waiting with Skaven Gatling Guns. Let the story continue!


Master Burner

the book seemed to be filling Albrecht's mind more and more. His thoughts turning to the knowledge waiting for him in this most ancient of tomes. He just wishes for this war to be done with so that he might retire from it for a spell, and study further. If he can live through the day, he may get that chance. The door is up ahead. they've killed all the light, but he sees through the Aethyr... The door is bathed in turquoise and purple, shimmering violue, a color not possible in any realm, but still it existed. Tzeentch's Wind. Such is the nature of his power. Making impossibilities trivialities. This door, behind it is the change. Whether the men know it or not, past this threshold what they know will be changed in some way. Albrecht suspects only the very lucky will live to see such change.


Snotball God

Anticipating the other side of the tunnel and his friends, Lackey prepares for whats to come.I hate dis damned tunnel by da gods we need to hurry.


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Master Burner

Albrecht knows what he'd like to find behind that door. An open field, green with healthy grass and beautiful flowers. Sigmar Himself sitting with Ghal Maraz enjoying a pint with it's dwarven creators. Shallya dancing and telling them everything would be all right.

It wasn't likely.


The Great Enchanter

Hoping for some updates from Pinvendor and Dagon before I continue. Either way, I'll move the story forward later tonight.


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The Trapmaster

Lutke found he was only a little surprised by the wide mouth of the dwarven jug that came floating by. Leave it to dwarves to create a container that allowed greater consumption in a single gulp. The tiny bog octopus slipped right in after Lutke placed the remainder of the hand and arm inside with a generous dose of murky, bloody water as well.

"Lutke, you really shouldn't keep this creature," Albrecht said again.

Lutke tossed Albrecht an irritated glance. Momentarily, the "vision" came on him again. He could see the strange reddish-orange wisps that seemed to swirl around the wizard; some of it shooting off of him like sparks of off a fire. Lutke could see a strange greenish glow emanating from Albrecht's chest area adding it's own power to the wind of fire surrounding Albrecht. Occasionally though, Lutke saw a darker tendril colored a deep purple like a very bad bruise. It seemed drawn towards the large corpse of the bog octopus. Where it caressed the animal, Lutke swore he could see an energy trying to enter it, trying to move it. Then the "vision" faded, and only Albrecht was before him.

"I suppose there are things none of us should be keeping, magister," Lutke muttered hotly and reached out and poked Albrecht in the place where the stone was hidden in the mage's clothes.

Albrecht met Lutke's eyes and the two men stared at one another for a moment. It ended when Albrecht inclined his head acknowledging the secrets the men seemed to share. Lutke nodded and looked around. The jug's cork floated into view and Lutke picked it up and plugged the jug. Drawing his utility knife he poked a small hole in the cork to allow some air transfer, and then he stowed the jug amongst his other things.

"In any case, my dear wizard friend, I very much hope we both survive this. I do believe we can help each other out with our personal 'interests'." Lutke turned towards Albrecht once more. "After all, choices have been given us, Magister Albrecht."

Lutke moved past Albrecht as the rest of the platoon began to trudge down the tunnel. He hoped Albrecht wouldn't see his trembling. Choices have been given us, Albrecht. And those choices have already been made. By both of us. The triumphant laughter of Rekstahl followed him long into the dark.


The Great Enchanter

Very well written update, Lutke. I loved it! +20 xp! I really enjoy the synergy of your friendship with Albrecht. It'll be interesting to see how it all plays out in the story that is unfolding.


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"Now, you know why you can hear my voice, Allllbreeeecht. You have always been destined for the power in the book. You must read it, learn it. There are eight more for you to find. Eight more for you to absorb! And find his ring. Find his ring and even the vampire counts will belong to you!"

Albrecht feels a strange caress on his cheek like a lover's touch.

"Soon you will have the power to make me your own!"

An image appears before Albrecht's eyes. The hideous visage of the hag's wraithlike face fades and is replaced by something else. Something much fairer.

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