"Allllbreeeeecht, soon I, Gespana, will be all yours to command. I will be willing to do anythiiiiiing. The power to control me and other spirits lies in your book. Hurry and read it!"
"I long to be corporeal enough to touch....all those things which neeeeeeed touching. So much needs doing. We will have much triumph and success tooooogeeeeether."
The wide-mouthed dwarven jug Lackey thinks to himself. Mmmmmmmnmmm Bog Squiddy stew Lackey mutters quietly. Lutke will enjoy such a treat when next we get a campfire we will enjoy this delicasy. Lackey wrings his hands in anticipation. Moving past Lutke he taps gently on the keg giving the little man a knowing glance and a hearty grin, Soon trapper soon. He dances a little jig in the tunnel glancing back at the jug a second time then breaking into laughter.
Lutke places the jug back into his pack since Lackey rudely removed it, and scolds the big man while he jigs,
"This jug is not for you, Corporal." Lutke latches his pack protectively to prevent further intrusions.
He hears Captain Biedelmann calling everyone close together before what appears to be the exit to this horrible yet profitable tunnel.
Lucas calls all the men together before they ready themselves to open the door and attempt to secure a perimeter.
"Remember men. We cannot allow the enemy to learn of this tunnel's existence. If there is any person or thing on the other side of this door, we must eliminate them swiftly or we will have endangered everyone on the far side of the river."
Lucas takes a breath. "Men, kneel and join me in a prayer to the gods."
Lucas remains standing, helmet in hand, and prays to each of the Empire's gods and goddesses asking for their protection and guidance, strength in both mind and body, and direction for the souls of the departed and soon-to-be departed. Lucas seemed to linger on asking the goddess Shallyah for her warding hand against any disease or vileness. When finished, Lucas gestured all the men to rise and replace their helmets if necessary
"Now, we must move and move quickly. For Wolfenburg!"
Standing next to the Biedelmann waiting orders and moving his gaze wildly as if waiting for his counterpart, Baaareeedddyyyybaaa A pudgy balding man missing his front teeth and wearing the medallions of many Brettonian Knights Liverys steps up nearby and strokes the hind end of this goat as if waiting for orders.
During the prayer of Captain Lucas, Gespana begins to whisper the words to a spell in Albrecht's ear. Her words are a silky caress and seductive. Albrecht is amazed when she offers him her true name, one given to her by the Winds of Magic. One each wizard, demon, and other magical creature obtains deep within their soul the first time the reach into the aethyr. Knowing this name puts Gespana completely in thrall to Albrecht, and she offered it willingly. She's excited and hopeful. She wants Albrecht to use her, use her power and knowledge of magic.
The spell is simple yet complicated, and would allow Albrecht to cause Gespana to materialize for a brief time completely under his control...for whatever he needs her for. But it's missing one thing. One thing Gespana doesn't know. A phrase of power that makes it active. And a single ingredient which makes it form.
"You must find these things in the Book of Nagash. Soon I will be able to help you accomplish much. Give me leave, my lord to do what I must to bring you this power."
Krak and boom wait with rigid anticipation, weapons in hand.
The Panzerfaust ((is what the dwarves told you the tube which fires rockets was) is again wrapped in white fur and lying in the dingy.
The Dwarves are near the back of the group having to wait to have enough space to gather and lug the rest of their equipment.
....and to make sure the Octopus doesnt show up again....
As the door nudges open and you push through into the darkness beyond, your immediately struck by the impression that you've moved into what must be a very small underground room. You can hear the clack of your boots on the stone floor and the echo of your movements on the walls around you. The order is given and a single storm lantern is unveiled, casting a sliver of light around the chamber.
"We must be beneath one of the two towers that stand on either side of the Wolfenburg bridge." Herr Roteshemd muses. "This is the secret exit point, all right. Somewhere above us must be the hidden door that leads to the main floors of the tower."
The room is devoid of anything of value. Several barrels lay on their side, their long molded contents of grain spilled across the floor. In the center of the chamber, a rusted iron ladder leads directly up the the stone ceiling above. A secret panel in the roof then?
"Hey, where are they?! I'm ready, let's do this." Private Aimes chatters, his voice filled with nervous energy; too much black root again. "C'mon, Captain. Send me in! I ain't afraid of no--"
"Private Aimes," Corporal Steinmann raises his voice to a harsh whisper, "You're mouth is talking again. Look to that."
A bemused chuckle filters through the ranks as Aimes casts a deadly look at Steinmann. However, the young Private is wise enough not to protest.
The iron ladder looms before you, bolted to the low ceiling above. What lies beyond is anyone's guess, but someone is going to have to make the climb and risk opening the floor panel to whatever dangers await.
The remaining Wolfenburg Warriors huddle nearby, checking their kit and trappings, sharpening swords and adjusting their helmets. In hushed whispers they seem to be working on their combat formations.
A young man who looks identical to the others with his chain tunic, red jersey, and an Imperial sallet, strides forward.
"Captain, we're ready! Show us that Hellcannon and we'll bring hell."
The others behind him let out a hushed cheer in response, eager to be free from their cramped quarters and within range of their objective.
"Aye, sir!" another nameless soldier speaks up, holding his sharpened blade in one hand and his explosive iron pigskin cradled in the other. "There ain't nothin' the enemy can toss at us that can slow us down!"
Another general murmur of approval ripples through the red shirted gang of snotballer soldiers.
Corporal Lackey Gunterman, Team Captain, looks on with pride.
Lutke eyed the ladder and the stones above it suspiciously. He strained to hear anything which might indicate trying to leave this room wouldn't be foolhardy. Nervously he shifts his pack on his shoulder and steadies it so as not to disturb the bogbaby too much.
"Anyone want to volunteer to open the door and go up?" Lucas asked of his cohort. "We need at least three to climb the ladder as quick as possible and try to secure the room above."
After speaking, Lucas closed his eyes and concentrated on any noise which would give him an indication of the room above and its potential occupants.
Lucas hears nothing he can separate from the men's creaking armor and rasping sound of whetstones on blades.
LUTKE:
It's difficult to hear over the clink of armor and the hushed banter of the soldiers. Taking the risk, you take several hand over hand steps up the iron ladder and cock your head, pushing your ear to the cold flagstones above. From beyond you can faintly make out the sound of heavy snoring punctuated by the occasional deep cough. There's definitely something alive just beyond the hidden hatch, very likely Kurgan.
You quickly relay this information to Captain Biedelmann who nods his head knowingly, considering his options carefully.
"Anyone want to volunteer to open the door and go up?" Captain Biedelmann asks. "We need at least three to climb the ladder as quick as possible and try to secure the room above."
"Perhaps send best fighters?" Njord comments, drawing a wicked knife instead of his trademark great sword. "I volunteer go. Need two others. We kill those on other side quick."
"I'm handy with a short blade." Herr Roteshemd says. "You can count me in."
Captain Biedelmann scans the room for a final volunteer to lead the surge into the chamber above; a nervous silence meets his gaze.
LUCAS:
"Ehhh," Corporal Steinmann objects, "You're still pretty badly wounded from that bout with the sea monster, Norseman. I'm not sure you're the best choice."
Njord simply shrugs, testing his mobility by swinging his long dagger this way and that in sharp cutting motions. Though he conceals it well, you can see the motion brings unexpected pain to the barbarian.
"Captain, you can count on my sword. I'll get the job done." Steinmann presses, stepping forward, drawing his Imperial steel.
"Yea?" Aimes chirps up suddenly, "So who's gonna patch us up if you get yourself killed?"
A dire frown crosses the face of Corporal Steinmann then, turning his gaze back to Captain Biedelmann.
"Well, Captain. It's your call. Who's it to be?"
"I'll do it." Albrecht volunteers. He doesn't know why he should be the one to do so, but he does.
Perception
Lackey pushes the frail little wizard to the side, He said warriors not pasty little girl, hehe. Pulling a wickedly sharpend jagged blade made for close quarters. Lackey eyes Njord Ready brudder we vill taste blood soon Stepping past the other 2 men Lackey graps the ladder and quietly as possible moves up the ladder. Blade clenched in his teeth.
LACKEY:
And so it's decided. You push forward towards the ladder with Njord and Herr Roteshemd in your wake. Captain Biedelmann is blathering on again, issuing last minute commands. You hardly pay him any attention. Killing whatever resides beyond the portal is your only job now, and you have every intention on doing it well.
Nudging the foolhardy locksmith aside, you begin to climb the ladder hand over hand, your knife locked between your teeth. For a moment you press your shoulder on the flagstone above, and then suddenly and quietly you push. Beneath you, the wide eyed gazes of Njord and Herr Roteshemd look on cheerfully, anxious to spill the blood of the enemy.
As the stone paver gives way, you lift yourself up and scan the room only briefly, never stopping. There! A fire burns in the corner, forged from broken timbers of nearby buildings. The stink of the popping wood rises in the form of smoke to the ceiling and hovers there like a black cloud foreboding doom.
You're halfway in the room then, tucking, you roll from your prone position on the ladder into a half crouch, snarling like some caged beast. You drop the blade into your right hand and scan the darkness. Behind, you can hear the others scrambling up, making at least some attempt at stealth.
The room is infested with sleeping Kurgan, at least eight strong! They lay about the crowded ground floor of what must be a tower in various states of drunken foolishness, hands resting on weapons or across each other.
A flight of stones stairs can be seen here, leading upwards to the second story, and a single wooden doorway, half open, reveals a path to the cold outside streets of No Man's Land. From there you can hear the sounds of the Chaos armies, marshaling in the streets beyond.
Njord is the next to gain his footing as he scrambles into view, his well formed muscles glisten in the firelight. Herr Roteshemd makes considerable noise as his chain tunic sways and catches against the wood flooring. You grit your teeth, sucking in air slowly as you wait to see what the Kurgan will do.
Retro Post
Lutke waited nervously for the man called Sir Brechton outside of the Bloated Dragon trying to keep himself under the overhanging second floor. Rain was falling in large, heavy drops. He found himself both excited and afraid of the task he had been given. From a purely academic standpoint what a challenge this would be! Finding a way to bind someone who could escape standard restraints would test the limits of his knowledge of locks and other traps. Lutke tried not to think of the unspoken part of needing to 'question' the Champion of Tzeentch. Lutke had no illusions he would be required to 'assist' with finding a way to do this as well.
On the other hand, Lutke would be faced with being in close proximity to a fiend of Chaos, some type of mortal being who had given himself over to the Ruinous Powers and been blessed with their hideous touch. That was terrifying. Lutke found himself praying continuously to Ulric and Ranald, his two favored gods here in the far north of the Empire.
Lutke was brought out his reverie by the sudden sounds of two metallic heels striking together with a dulled ringing sound. A helmetless man with dirty blond hair slicked down by the falling water and a very unusually trimmed mustache and beard regarded Lutke's lanky form. He wore what appeared to be a mix of plate and chain for mobility and tabard with a detailed embroidery of a bouquet of flowers imposed over the top of a large golden goblet with a corona of light sewn around it. Lutke had never seen a Bretonnian knight before, but there was certainly no mistaking Sir Adrien Brechton for anything but. The falling rain plinked loudly on his pauldrons.
"You're the locksmith?" It came out with a touch of incredulity and a fair dose of annoyance.
Lutke swallowed and nodded. "I-I am a locks-"
"Follow me then, monsieur. And pray the Lady guards your soul."
Lutke, mouth still agape, watched startled as Sir Brechton strode away, metallic heels splashing muddy water. He was several steps ahead when Lutke regained his wits and hurried to keep up. He quickly gathered up his satchel and tool pouches and hurried after the knight doing his best to shield his equipment with his cloak from the rain.
Sir Brechton led Lutke to a two story building missing part of its roof that appeared to once have been a tavern. A broken sign bearing the name The Secret Games Tavern hung from one rusty chain and swung in the wind and rain. A small detachment of Wolfenburg militia was stationed at the building's entrances, ensuring that no one entered or left without clearance. The men looked miserable standing guard in the rain, but they remained watchful nonetheless. Sir Brechton lifted a hand in acknowledgement of the guards' salutes as he and Lutke approached one of the side doors closer to what had once been the stables but was now being used as barracks for one of the neighborhood patrols off-duty men. Lutke realized this indicated they were also there to be on hand in case something happened with the prisoner contained in the basement of this building.
Lutke followed the slightly older man inside and to what appeared to be a closet under the stairs ascending to the tavern's former puff-puff rooms. Two men were stationed on either side of the hall, one able to watch for those approaching the closet and the other to watch the closet itself. Lutke was somewhat confused until Sir Brechton opened the closet door and revealed the back panel of the closet had been removed. What might have once been a well opening was visible, but iron wrought stairs spiraled down and Lutke could see the flicker of lantern light. Without hesitation Sir Brechton descended the stairs and Lutke hurried to do the same.
The iron stairs were quite cramped and tall Lutke had to stoop slightly or continuously bump his head on the iron steps he had just descended. It went down for quite a while but eventually a similarly small opening allowed access into what was clearly a hidden basement. Stout and study wooden beams supported stone wall construction, and Lutke was certain a portion of it was actually the other side of a sewer wall. It was obvious the stone walled complex was much more extensive than the building above.
"Turns out The Secret Games Tavern did in fact have 'secret games'. Illegal betting on a variety of dangerous things appears to have gone on down here," Sir Brechton suddenly said into the quiet of the underground complex. "Don't wander from me or my men until you have become familiar with the layout. It seems to have been built like a maze. Probably so that if discovered, it would be difficult to catch all of the gamblers and staff."
Lutke barely heard him. Since descending the stairs, he had felt an ominous dread; a wordless feeling that had begun to seep into his skin and was trying to settle into his bones. It seemed to come from a single place in the basement, and somehow Lutke knew he could navigate directly to it. Somehow Lutke knew that this "dungeon's" maze was an open book to him. It was happening again. That feeling like the laws of physics and matter were falling into his hands to use and control and play with...
"Locksmith!" Lutke was roughly shaken by a hand and Sir Brechton's face swam into view. He was inches from Lutke's own. "Have you already given yourself over to madness, man?"
Lutke blinked several times. "Uh..um, I-I am fine. J-Just had a strange f-feeling."
Sir Brechton grunted. "yes, you'll just have to get used to that." then he added under his breath. "Not that you'll be able." Lutke wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that or not.
"Follow me, and you can get a look at it and we'll get started." The knight began to move away down the passage towards the next lighted area.
"Wait," Lutke blurted. "I need to do some things first." Sir Brechton turned with a frown.
"Uh..I need to interview your men; I need to know what kinds of things the..uh, Champion has escaped from and if anyone knows how he did it." Sir Brechton started to shake his head. "Please, Sir Brechton. I know it sounds useless to you, but trust me. This kind of data will be useful if I am to be able to devise a means to secure this creature. And more importantly..." Lutke took a breath, "if I am to help you find a way to properly question it."
Si Brechton regarded the locksmith, and Lutke noticed how red-rimmed the man's eyes were. Lutke could fix that. His hands twitched, and he wanted to get his tools out.
"Fine," the knight said in a flat tone. He turned on his heel and Lutke leaped to follow.
Over the next several hours, Lutke met the four men who kept a constant vigil on the Champion one-at-a-time. One of them was bemused by Lutke's questions, two were rather sullen, and one was downright hostile feeling like this was all quite a waste of their time. The first was a battle pilgrim who followed Sir Brechton in his questing, the two Sir Brechton's men-at-arms, and the last was Sir Brechton's ward, a young knight errant who was very haughty and obviously of noble blood.
Then Lutke requested to examine the various devices they had attempted to use to restrain the so-called Champion of Chaos. Lutke was astounded to see the various things from manacles and chains to ropes and weights. Belts, straps, rings, hooks, and even a loveself which was a coat used in asylums. Lutke measured them, weighed them, and worked any of their movable parts. He took extensive notes, and once, Sir Brechton had to call up a request for more ink and paper.
Lutke spent a long time staring at his notes and the data. It was all very contradictory....assuming the Champion followed any of the laws of nature as Lutke knew them. Frighteningly, Lutke found that some it it made sense in a way he didn't want to contemplate. A part of him knew how something could do these things...if certain adjustments were made. Lutke tried to force that from his head.
Finally, as Sir Brechton's patience was wearing thin, Lutke admitted to himself that the last bit of information couldn't be obtained until he met the Champion and had his chance to see what he was facing. All these measurements and data that shouldn't be possible...Lutke knew that it would make sense to him even though it shouldn't.
Sir Brechton tapped his foot impatiently, obviously tired and not feeling too much more indulgent. Lutke scraped the wooden chair from the table where he worked in the area outside where they kept the Champion. He stood and looked at the knight.
"May the gods preserve my mind, body, and soul." Lutke whispered. He wiped his sweaty and ink stained hands on his trousers. "I am ready."
For a moment Sir Brechton's face softened and fleeting expression of pity rushed across his features as he looked at the skinny man who looked at him with trepidation. Then it toughened again, as Sir Brechton steeled himself for the encounter to come. He nodded decisively once, and led Lutke to a door. Sir Brechton opened it and went through. Lutke paused in front of the room's entrance trying to steel his nerves. Then before he lost the ability to choose to do so, Lutke put one foot in front of the other and crossed the threshold of change.
failed instinctivly shushs Steinmann seeing his error quickly moves away from the fire place and prepares for war.
LACKEY:
You're halfway in the room then, tucking, you roll from your prone position on the ladder into a half crouch, snarling like some caged beast. CLAAAANG! Your foot crashes into a discarded helmet turned makeshift cooking pot. The ominous sound echoes throughout the tower as you grit your teeth, waving off Njord and Roteshemd.
vs 25 (PER -10%): FAIL!
Long moments pass as you wait for the worst. Thankfully, the sleeping Kurgan warriors only stir slightly, but do not awaken. With a nod you signal the others to continue their ascent.
Njord's Agility Check: vs 31: EPIC FAIL
Roteshemd's Agility Check: vs 35: PASS!
Sigmar's blighted ass! You realize it far too late:
Njord is halfway up the threshold, preparing to climb through, when the Kurgan leap up from their feigned slumber and strike! A geyser of blood suddenly sprays into the air, showering you from head to toe. You stumble backwards, swinging wildly.
Njord's head bounces across the floor and rolls to your feet, cleanly severed! Below, the body of the Norseman crashes into Herr Roteshemd, knocking him off the ladder. You hear shouts of alarm and dismay as the twitching body of Njord plummets downwards to the cobbles below.
The Kurgan somehow knew you were coming!
"Son of a whore!" Herr Roteshemd howls in dismay as Njord's headless body crashes into him, knocking him from the iron ladder and onto the flagstones below.
Blood sprays everywhere, pumping liters of red gore across the boots and sabatons of the gathered soldiers. Swords are drawn, orders are given, someone vomits. Chaos erupts as the trap is sprung!
"Oh, Gods!" Aimes cries, his face draining of color. "Oh--" Aimes loses his lunch, his face a white mask of abject horror.
Wishing his friend Ginger were with him, Lackey rips the Mallet from his back and begins to swing like a madman, his brother in arms dead at his feet he bellows dauði ok blóð "Death and Blood" he steps to the kurgan.
Attack vs 35 0 successes
Def vs 53 5 successes
Old Kurgan Stats:
1. Att vs 38 1 success
Def vs 40 1 success
2. Att vs 38 1 success
Def vs 40 1 success
Don't know how many I casn face at once so here are two. Looking grim for the snotball god.
Sure wish Ginger was here thinks Lackey, He could sure be of use in these cramped quarters.
Lucas struggles to control his dismay at seeing the Norseman's headless body fall back into the room. We've been discovered already! Commander Nulner's command that the enemy couldn't find out about the tunnel came back to Lucas with crystal clarity.
Chaos had erupted, as his men despaired at seeing the human giant fall lifeless and ineffectual in their midst; his lifeblood spraying all over them. Lucas could see the panic forming in their eyes.
"Secure that room! Your snotball leader and trainer is up there! Go! Go!"
The bedlam continues, the noise from the room above and the shouts of the men in the room with him seem to be taking all the focus off Lucas. Realizing it might take time to get things under control, time Lackey didn't have, Lucas bellows up the ladder.
"Gunterman! Get down here now! Return to the room below!"
To hell wit dat I vill not flee, My brudder died here so may I.
Stay below and cower fool,
Lackey begins his death chant working into a frenzy at his friends death.
Lo, there do I see my father. 'Lo, there do I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning. They do call to me. They bid me take my place among them. In the halls of Valhalla. Where the brave...May live...forever.
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GET TO THE CHOPPA!! Ulughulgh!
Had to be done.
Lutke's mouth drops open in shock as Njord's body falls from the opening onto the men below. The taste of blood enters his mouth and Lutke finds himself gagging and spitting, but the flavor of iron won't go away.
Aside from the instinctive reaction to the blood spray, Lutke can't seem to be able to move. He hears Captain Biedelmann's cry to assist, but Lutke hears him as if from very far away. Lutke sees the last of the blood dribbling from the stump of Njord's neck. For a moment, the "sight" comes on him again.
He sees a strange image of a glowing fog pouring out of Njord's body. Is that his soul? Lutke thinks wildly. Suddenly, a translucent beautiful dark haired woman appears from out of the side of Lutke's vision. A glowing nimbus seems to surround her. She is reaching for the wispy fog as if trying to grab it, but it seems to slip through her fingers. He hears her whisper as if in his own ear.
Alllllbreeeecht. That one would have been a great spirit for you to possess and control. It is a shame we were not prepared for his passing.
Without warning her gaze snaps to Lutke. Her eyes widen and an evil smile fills her face. Lutke blinks and she is immediately in front of him, mere inches from his face.
Hello, rabbit, I have been waiting for the day when you might see me again. After all, I have been with you so long! My killer, my murderer! She laughed, a peal of crystal. She reached out and touched his forehead. Her touch was cold but light like the touch of a snowflake falling from the northern sky. Yes, I owe you so much, my dear rabbit. A hungry and terrifying light shone in her eyes, and just as suddenly as she had appeared, she retreated. To Lutke she seemed to have been pulled back as if she had been straining against a tether and had ceased resisting. Lutke's eyes followed her quick movement unconsciously, no control of his actions.
Lutke was frozen with fear and couldn't believe this had happened. Despite her gorgeous appearance, Lutke recognized her. She's the ghost of the accursed hag that had almost killed him what seemed so long agao! She had "snapped back" amongst the crowd of panicking soldiers and Lutke hadn't been able to see where she had gone. But she had said Albrecht's name. And he had her stone...
Lutke shivered uncontrollably. Shame and doubt began to crowd his mind. The hag had come to represent everything he feared about magic and Chaos. Somehow knowing even after her death she would haunt Lutke seemed to strike a blow deeper than even his conversations with Rekstahl.
However, even now his strange new grasp on reality and the laws of the universe protected his fragile mind from breaking. He could use this somehow. The more he thought about this, the more sure he was of it. Yes, he would master his fear of this creature. Her rabbit she had called him. We'll see who's hunting who Lutke thought. After all, I won the first time, didn't I?
Somewhere, wherever it was, Rekstahl the Choice-Giver smiled.
LUCAS:
BEDLAM. That's the the best word to describe the unfolding of events around you. The world seems to slow as you cease speaking Reikspeil and began shouting commands in Battle Tongue, quick rapid orders that half of your soldiers obey and the other half seem to ignore.
Above, you can hear Lackey Gunterman chanting, apparently relishing in his death to come. Surrounded by Kurgan, you can hear him laying about himself with his mighty maul, slamming foes this way and that. It's only a matter of time until he too is tossed down the hole and into the room you find yourself, a bloody carcass for the grave.
And then, quite suddenly, it dawns on you. With razor sharp intensity it hits you like a brick:
'THEY KNOW WE'RE COMING? OUR MOVES ARE BEING TELEGRAPHED? WE HAVE A TRAITOR IN OUR MIDST!'
With a grunt of dismay you begin to ponder your options. The passage behind you is blocked, Njord saw to that when he was thrown into the rafters by the bog beast, causing a minor collapse. The only way is ahead and up. You can only hope the entire Chaos Horde is not aware of you. If that's the case, you're certainly doomed. If you can but overcome these Kurgan ambushers, there is perhaps still a chance.
You're eyes fall on the lifeless body of Njord and a knot of sickness rises in your stomach.
SSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT
"GET DOWN"
Turning, you see that Boom and Krak are wearing leather masks that have a snout ending in a metal canister. The masks are secured to their heads with leather straps and their eyes look widly from behind lenses fitted into the leather mask.
Boom tosses a smoking tube up through the ladder opening
vs BS.....not so much.
The canister hits the floor/ceiling and lands amoung the group pouring noxious fumes that instantly make your eyes water and your throat burn.
"BLEEDING SOD!" Krak yells as he grabs the canister and attempts to make things right.
-10 for the chaos.... Nope
Again the smoking toxic canister hits the top of the ladder only to bounce off of the cieling/roof and land amoung you.
Coughing, vomiting and cries of dismay immediately ensue.
"WHAT YA WAITIN FO!!!????? GET UP DA BLEEDIN LADDER!!!!"
Lucas realizes that the mission has been compromised, but with no retreat, there was no other way to keep their lives but fight there way forward.
"We have to get up that ladder, men!"
Just then a canister hits the stone ceiling close to the opening and falls down, filling the room with noxious fumes. Coughing and gagging, Lucas once again bellows.
"Move men, now!"
Not knowing what effect his words have had since he can barelly see his men in the smoke and the tears, Lucas tries to see if he can make it to the room above in order to assist Lackey and hopefully remove the threat of Kurgen warriors.
Unfortunately for the young officer, Lucas finds he is unable to move due to the spasms of nausea he is now experiencing.
LACKEY:
The first two Kurgan that rush you meet the business end of your mallet. One goes flying across the room, crashing into several other of his brethren, the other ducks wide and slams hard into your abdomen, digging his shoulder into your stomach. Together you topple against the far wall of the tower, catapulting over a crude alter you hadn't noticed before, smoldering with heavy incense.
You lay on the floor for a moment, your head throbbing from the impact, grappling feebly for your mallet which resides nearby. From below you can hear the alarmed shouts of your comrades, desperately trying to make sense of the unfolding chaos.
As you scan the room, the burning firelight casts wicked shadows that dance this way and that, illuminating strange symbols that draw your eye and claw at your soul.
The stunned Kurgan half laying on top of you rolls over, also trying to regain his footing. You can see that the man is painted like a Nipponese whore. The wildman is on his knees now, his eyes locked to yours. You see the barbarian lick his lips, his tongue and mouth filled with rusted razor wire; a self inflicted wound!
Oh, great. you think, hefting your mallet. Followers of Slannesh...
KRAK AND BOOM:
It's almost comical to watch the the two of you fumble and bounce around the stone chamber like pinballs, grasping at the the guttering iron canister as it sprays loads of toxic poison into the air.
"Move men, now!" someone shouts! " GET UP DA BLEEDIN LADDER!" Krak howls in frustration.
And then, just like that, everyone is running for the ladder in a blind panic. Men crash into each other, eyes filled with tears, lungs bursting from the hideous smoke.
Above, the howling Kurgan look on with glee, hefting garishly painted blades into the air, hacking at anyone who comes into range. Another body falls, splashing blood everywhere. You think it might be Helmut, a young Wolfenburg Warrior born in the distant village of Pfiefeldorf. The lad dies almost instantly.
"My eyes, they buuuuurn!" Aimes weeps, hollering like a wounded child. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This was--"
Aimes slams into the back of one of the Dwarves and topples over, the guttering iron canister spitting its deadly fumes into the air just a foot away.
"Gravin, help meeeee!"
LUCAS:
The trap is closing around you fast now and there's nothing you can do about it. Too many men in an enclosed space, fighting for air. Primal instincts to survive are driving your warriors now; you've seen this type of thing before.
It had happened in Altdorf during the Great Cathedral Fire of 2020. Men, both holy and not, had thrown themselves from impossible heights to the hard cobblestones below, all in the hopes of saving themselves from the flesh consuming flames. You see the same look of panic and horror in the faces of your men now.
Desperately you try to rally your troops and force an exit, but you're on your knees then, vomiting horribly as the green fumes pour into your lungs.
You see the air filtering out of the smoking death trap you find yourself in and into the tunnel from which you came. It dawns on you that while the tunnel had been blocked, there had been an opening in the wall itself, that place where the Bog Beast had forced it's way in. The drop lead directly into the cold Wulfen River, but that might be preferable to your fate here...
"Curse it, bloody fools!" Corporal Steinmann hollers in anger. "Listen to your Captain! Warriors of Wolfenburg, rally and heed the call of your officers!"
vs 35: EPIC SUCCESS!
"Sir, yes sir!" a score of voices choke at once, soldiers that are now only shadows in the smoke filled room.
"Captain, what are your orders?!" another man shouts.
"We can't get up that ladder, it's a deathtrap!" Herr Roteshemd yells through the cuff of his sleeve.
Another Wolfenburg Warrior crashes down the ladder, his head cloven in two. A wicked shout of laughter echoes from above.
"Captain, maybe back down the tunnel? We can lower the dingy into the river and use it as our escape!"
Unbeknownst to you all...
In the wake of the chaos and confusion, a small jade idol shifts this way and that in the tight confines of Private Aimes backpack. If one were to take the time to inspect the strange carved figure, they might see a razor sharp smile appear upon its carved face.
The cunning and savage Kurgan in the tower above, followers of Slannesh all, can feel the presence of the statue and had been expecting its arrival. The message from the Grave Lady had told them as much. It was an uncomfortable alliance, this brief union between two very different camps, but a union that nonetheless served the greater good of the deity they all revered, Shem the Great Subjugator.
Yes, you have each of you been betrayed, used as unwitting couriers to deliver a relic of unknown power. Both Lucas and Lutke have begun to suspect this, each arriving at their conclusion in very different ways.
Tis' a dark world.
Lutke's contemplation of the ghostly vision he had witnessed is abruptly ended when he is jostled roughly. Lutke becomes suddenly aware of the movement bodies and fearful shouting all around him. Suddenly a strong smell hits his nose and eyes and he reflexively coughs.
Lutke manages to not only keep his footing as the panicking soldiers coughed and fought to reach the ladder, but also managed to pull a work rag out of his pack to cover his nose and mouth. It was even damp. Had a small tentacle handed it to him? Lutke shook his head. No, that's ridiculous.
Moving away from the mad rush towards the ladder. Lutke finds himself next to Albrecht. The "sight" hadn't faded yet and he could see the spitting sparks of Bright Wind magic that surrounded the wizard. The hag's spirit was nowhere in sight, but Lutke wasn't concerned with that at the moment.
He was trying to see the source of the strange gas. Was it an attack of the Kurgens'?
The shifting bodies and screaming not to mention the thick smoke made it to hard to see the origin. If only a strong wind would come blow the smoke out of the room. Or if the smoke behaved more like wood smoke the heat would make it lift up and out of the opening in the ceiling. Lutke could only dream the Kurgen's would suffer that way.
"Albrecht!" Lutke reached out and pulled the mage close and shouted into his ear above the din of the soldiers. "Make heat! Heat the air, Albrecht. Make the smoke rise!"
Suddenly, Rekstahl's voice murmured to him.
High Lady? Who in the name of Ulric was that? Regardless, Lutke realized betrayed meant betrayed. In his heart, Lutke prayed Ulric and Ranald, the brother gods, would see that a nemesis, a righteous infliction of retribution manifested by an appropriate agent, came to this High Lady. Briefly the pretty face of Gretta filled his thoughts. Lutke shook his head to clear his mind. This was no time to be lustful!
"Albrecht! Did you hear me?"
vs Agil +10 for the gasmask and for jumping on the canister. Success.
"I'VE GOT IT, I'VE GOT IT!!!" A triumphant Boom's voice echoes hollowy from his leather mask as he hold up the spewing canister high above his head.
Running to the ladder:
-10 for the chaos. throws it
nope
Clink!
Hits the same spot and comes down into the hood of a warrior
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Albrecht was lost in thought, attempting to plot his own course out of this death trap. Njord's headless body falling down into the pit, the gases sifting about their feet. This is not how he wanted to go.
He hears Lutke call out, suggesting a magical solution. "This is gas! It is not a smoke...but truly I'd rather struggle against this than let death take me easily!" he shuts up thinking he shouldn't talk so much.
Thinking.... heating the air in here would roast them like an oven... No that won't work! What can he do!?! It was the best option. A quick burst of hot air might be enough to give them some breathing room. ugh, a pun. He hated himself sometimes.
In the confusion, Albrecht had no idea where the gas had come from, looking about he sees it now. A cannister! Those DAMNED DWARVES!
vs BS (Its sorta like throwing, but like soccer right?)