Bertradis's page

Sorry to hear about the computer. Take care

Bertradis watches the others as they deal with the far off giants, holding her battle sisters back from the pass.

Indeed

The Sigmaran sisters see to the weak, wounded, sick, and infirm while others are tasked to humanitarian causes as the faith is spread as dictated by the Cult of Sigmar and induction rights.

Bertradis shakes her head, "We'll see about the Prince. I suspect he is not so easily going to let all remember him as a Sigmaran practicioner. Not for long anyway."

"Before the Prince accepted us into his service we all lived terrible lives. The old men could not wield weapons to fight well anymore and hadn't died in combat so they were held in contempt and had a hard time feeding themselves. The young men and woman too small to be warriors and too weak willed to be mates were used as flesh slaves for the pleasure of the true warriors, a terrible fate, and the maimed were mocked and starved for not having the good graces to die with honor and instead linger on as broken warriors, unable to contribute." The old man explained.

"Sigmar saved us all from that, though we could not repay him with great service, ensuring that we where fed, clothed, received proper medicine and were protected from predators." The old man sighs.

"It was a dream come true while it lasted, but even with Sigmar's death he has secured for us these privileges." The old man sheds a tear.

"Who ever heard of Royalty dying so that the outcast and the despised may live good lives?"

"I have!" Bertradis answers the old man's call as she strides from her tent. "This Prince Sigmar you claim to be so noble a man that he sacrificed his life to allow his fellowship to survive is merely one, ONE, act that the true Sigmar Unberogen performed to ensure that many could lead fulfilling lives and hope for a better tomorrow. Twice now I've heard insults cast at the gods of the south. Sigmar Unberogen is the eternal patron of the Empire of Man, he was the singular effort in ending the conflict between twelve tribes that was sundering mankind, he drove back a nation of barbarians, he defeated the Lord of the Undead Nagash himself in single combat, and held the throne for 50 years known as the golden age of man, and still gave up his throne and his mortality to continue to ensure to anyone wishing to have freedom would do so... Sigmar Unberogen IS a god of the south."

"If your prince truly gave his life to spare yours, then he chose the to walk and live the path of Sigmar Unberogen, a southern god that you see fit worthy of insult and disgrace. You shame your princes memory with every blasphemy you spit about those WEAK... SOUTHERN... GODS." Bertradis ends with three sharp punctuated words to warn that they were not going to be tolerated.

"If you wish to do you prince's sacrifice any honor or want to hear more about the legend that is the true Sigmar Unberogen, I am more than willing to share the knowledge and way with any that have the wish to learn. I hope I am surprised to find any among you." Bertradis pauses and lets the moment sink in, before she turns to her tent.

Still back in the king's tent Bertradis sends for her battle sisters just as the smoke from the flames drifts over the camp. "Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm. Timing will be everything," she says to herself before passing out of the tent to return to her own. To anyone taking notice, Bertradis does not waver in her path. While many gaze at the flames of execution, Bertradis does not look even once. Passers by and the crowd part from her way and Bertradis simply receives her sisters as one by one they heed her call, solemn in their duty, purpose in their eyes until they disappear behind the flaps of Bertradis's tent.

Bertradis shakes her head, 'Like father, like son. There is no real honor in the royal blood of the north.'

Bertradis moves to sit and clean her shield and weapons eyeing the king suspiciously.

"I am more amenable to requests when called by name instead of a generalization; how easily you forget our last talk."

Bertradis will spare the man with a lay on hands, but she doesn't stray far. She is fully prepared to end his life mercifully should the interrogation go too far.

Bertradis looses her shield from the sucking wound in one of the dead assassins. "This is madness. We fumble at the machinations of a man that planned to kill his friend years ago! Questioning this man will only serve to give us the information he wants us to have. And yet, we are left with no recourse. We are already caught up in this scheme and now we must play our roles."

yep will negates, why is everyone full attacking and moving does everyone have pounce or something? You get one attack after moving unless its a 5' step.

I have a magic item that lets me move as a swift action once a day

The mercenaries move quickly and in a flurry of attacks one Assassin is dead and the other unconscious in a pool of his own blood.

Combat over, you won=)

King Hrothgar would never willing teleport away with Senna, his honor demands he face each challenge in life head on without fleeing. I forget can you teleport someone against their will?

Will negates for objects

You cannot teleport someone that is not willing. No save necessary

Bertradis stands there silently, quiet and easily overlooked it would seem as the symbol of Sigmar hangs from her neck and inscribed across her armor.

This king is a fool, why would he think I would want to help him after his admission of insult to Signmar. Bertradis opens her mouth to protest the king's wrong position and offending nature when the cloaked men move from the shadows.

Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Bertradis, moves to engage the men head on, with a quickness that doesn't suit her encumbering armor, and lays into them with a flurry of hammer smashes and shield bashes while not letting down her guard.

Bertradis wrote:

So is the prince's name a coincidence or is he just a not a god yet?

The Prince is not the Sigmar that founded the Empire, that occured some 2,500 years ago.

The why a Norse Prince is named after a southernling god has yet to be revealed.

Ah, very good then! I'm less at a loss now. Bertradis isn't capable of helping feed the army, so she's just standing around all stoic like for moral support right now.

As to having undead in our empires service... I suppose it is too late to undo that damage.

So is Bertradis the only one that finds having a ton of vampires running around a problem?

I must admit all the chaos religion, undead use, and a mortal Sigmar Prince kind of have me off balance seeing as Bertradis is a Sister of Sigmar. So is the prince's name a coinidence or is he just a not a god yet?

"Many deities would favor a smart follower and could not disagree with you on this matter. Of course, I would stand to defend anyone undeserving of aggression, the Prince is no exception, but I would not do it for the favor of someone with personal ambition or suspect agenda such as yourself." Bertradis says rather bluntly turning to look at the Prince.

Yuugasa wrote:

The Shaman chuckles. "I am no servant of the Prince's, and I certainly don't speak for him, in fact..." His hooded head turns to where the Prince sits, drinking and laughing. "He doesn't like or trust me...He did not send me and I have no power to broker deals in his name."

Senna has listened to the discussion with no sign of emotion or inclination. Now, she looks at the shaman with curiosity. "If he bears you no love and you, I would think, have little for him... why are you interested in saving his skin?"

"A question that mirrors my own thoughts Senna." Bertradis adds turning attention toward the discussion.

"A wrong question, followed by a wronger one, and I haven't the time to correct either with you. Bertradis is the name since you have forgotten it so readily by the way."

"Your custom is either stupid or ignorant to refer to a woman as wench, especially one so able" Bertradis says with a sideways look at Gale. "Oh that's right, the blood god. You said that already." Bertradis turns with a crooked and prodding smile.

Two Sigmaran nuns lead Bertradis forward as she looks confused, wanting to return to where they pulled her from. One of the nuns cups a hand to whisper a message to Bertradis while the other looks inconvenienced. After a moment and another gentle touch to the shoulder to persuade her, Bertradis speaks, "Bertradis."

The inconvenienced nun gives a firm push, and Bertragis lets out an annoyed sigh, "Fine! Matriarch Bertradis... don't forget we are not here as mercenaries. We are here in service to Simgar and the Empire, a deal is a deal, Hrothagar." The inconvenienced nun shakes her head in quiet disapproval.

A mercenary cries out in anguish, despair, and horror as he falls backward into the trampled mud of the earth, clutching the stump of his severed arm before the limb even fell back to the earth. An orc savage charging past at full speed, brutally swings his stone axe for the mercenary's head to finish his noise, but the stone weapon shatters inches from its destination on a shield as Sigmar's hammer collapses the orc's thick skull into a cavity of red paste and spraying a gory mist into the air. The savage orc's body in the split instance after the fatal blow to the brain, lunges forward at a woman still caught in the way of the orc's momentum.

The woman wears a black tunic covered by a black scapular and cowl, but wears a suit of plate armor juxtaposed with the simple black garb. The armor is covered in religious symbols and texts that were masterfully woven into a multi-layered faceted scripture that told the story of the woman that it protects. In one hand she wields a dark and rare metaled war hammer with the symbol of a twin tailed comet on both sides and on the other arm carries a shield with the Empire's coat of arms with the exception of a giant spike protruding from the center. She is eerily a sight to behold, possibly even a beauty, but her face carries with it the burden of many past battles and a determination to to see many more. She moves with grace, and power so confident it emboldens those around her.

Just as the orc's body lurches forward and what looks to be an inevitable fate to fall on the lithe Sigmarain nun, she spins out of its way and lifts the injured mercenary out of harms way setting him at the feet and care of another woman dressed in black. The nun turns back and wades into the orc tide, parting the green skin sea with a red rain from her hammer and shield flurry, a superfluity of Sigmarain nuns behind her.

Great and powerful foes surround us; unknown miscreants gnaw at us from within. We are threatened with total annihilation.

Checking in.