Warhammer Fantasy: The Old World [IC]

[Legital]

A few miles south of Wizna
Near the Dobryrion
“Last Stand Hill”

Once the vampire had finished his speech, Gregori stood quiet for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side as he stared at the vampire. However, much to his own surprise, he laughed. Though it was somewhat of a cold chuckle, it was nevertheless a laugh, something that was rare coming from a Morr devotee. "You don't find yourself in debt to the god of death himself without first suffering and paying a dear price." He said, his voice taking on a format of icy malice, though there was something else in his voice that seemed to hint that he did not mean hostility towards the other man himself. "My life was equally a twisted horror that saw me seeking Morr on more than one occasion. I lived amongst devils and filth, where the vile powers of chaos wished to damn my soul. But no!" He roared suddenly, "I would not allow that! For my soul belonged to Sigmar and Morr!" He continued, before pausing an allowing the sound of finishing battle to fill the air.

He then lowered his head, and sighed. Reaching up with one hand, he removed his helmet to show his face. Gaunt and sharp with a grim and pale look, Gregori looked somewhat similar to the vampire. On his face, though it was not immediately noticeable, there were the faint lines of age, or a man who had seen many throughout his life. Though the unmistakeable look of an aging man was present, it would appear he maintained much of his youth, through means unknown, that it was possible magic may have played a role.

"I'm older and far more powerful than I look, Herr Kruger." He said, fixing a hard gaze on the man, sizing him up. "I've yet to meet a vampire who claims unwillingness for immortality and his condition, along with claiming to be a faithful of Sigmar himself, blessed be him." Gregori fixed another hard stare, and looked up at one of his sorcerers. The black hooded sorcerer nodded ever so slightly, causing a slight ripple in his cloak.
Gregori spun his warhammer around in his hand, holding it so the head was facing backwards, behind him. Seemingly with a slight hesitation, he took a step forward and offered his armored hand. "As a warrior-priest of Morr and Grand Master of my Order, I can offer you release if Morr excepts your offer. That, however, will be determined by your actions, and I can not guarantee he will grant you his eye. I simply offer you the opportunity. That is, if I can trust you. Morr knows if I'm making a mistake, and if I am, than so be it."

---

In the town of Wizna

All Joquore could hear was his panting in his helmet, the trample of hooves, and the dull clanging of weapons as the knights finished up the beastmen. Though, as it so happened, fellow Empire troops were in the city as well, and as he charged past part of the village, he spotted troops and riders. He paid no heed to them at the moment, as he turned his attention forward just in time to see a beastman with a pike before him. Acting swiftly, he turned his horse to avoid impalement, though ended up offering himself instead.

The wooden pike impacted into his armored side with a sickening crunch and thud, piercing his breastplate and lifting him off of his mount. The pike broke under the weight, and a foot long sliver of the pike was imbedded into his side as he fell back onto the ground, knocking all of the air out of his lungs.
He heard a feral roar, and turned his helmeted head just in time to see several beastmen with renewed vigor running at him with clubs and old iron swords. Trying to grab his sword that had fallen beside him, he was instantly surrounded by the beastmen as he was savagely beaten. Clubs dented his armor as he desperately tried to protect his head and neck as hard clubs pounded him. The pike remains in his sides burned as he clenched, and he could not help but let out a cry of pain.

Just as he had thought more had finally called upon him, he heard yelling. Yelling of men with anger in their hearts, and looking through his slit visor with half closed eyes, he saw silver armored figures such as himself come to his help. Three dismounted knights, charging to take on at least eight beastmen, came to aid their brother. One was simply unarmed, and with an odd amount of agility, literally hopped onto one of the beastmen and began to pummel the creature with his armored gauntlets with a cry of rage. The two other knights were armed with longswords like many others of their order, and one swinging and the other stabbing, proceeded to instantly kill two beastmen.

One of the beastmen turned to swing a club at one of the knights, and found himself impaled through the chest by a gleaming sword. The knights continued to fight for their wounded brother as more beastmen made a last attempt to take down these knights as the other knights rode down the remainder around the town.

[The Huskar Social Union]

Wizna, edge of the Dobryrion, Kislev

Reinhardt watched as the Knights of Morr began their bloody work across the square. Caught between the encircling outrider and the armoured knights the beast men host had broken, in all directions the foul servants of the ruinous powers attempted to flee, their leaders no longer maintaining control, a few made a stand and attempted to kill as many of their enemies as they could before they went down. Regardless they did not last long, as they were cut down one by one by lance, sword and gun.

Reinhardt rode down one of the foul beasts with his horse and smiled as he heard its skull break under his horses hoofs. He turned to look across the blood soaked square and spotted one of the knights of Morr taken down by a pike to the chest, but miraculously the man had survived, a long jagged shard of the pike was embedded in the mans armour, and Reinhardt watched as beast men converged on the downed warrior and he knew he would not last long with out assistance. He spurred his horse and rode towards the beleaguered knight, he gestured for one of his fellow outriders to follow him and the two made their way over to assist the knight. As they arrived at the scene several of the Knights compatriots had arrived to fight by his side, they cut their way through the enemy in an attempt to reach their brother in arms, one even fought with his mailed fists alone, lacking any weapon. Reinhardt and his colleague opened fire on the beast men that were not engaged with the knights in order to avoid any friendly fire.

After downing several of the creatures the two men dismounted and rushed over to the wounded knight as the knight's brothers dispatched the last few of their foes. As he prepared to check the man's wound he heard a startled shout and looked up, one of the beasts had gotten loose from the unarmed knights grasp and was charging Reinhardt with a rusted axe. In an eye blink Reinhardt had pulled out his backup pistol and sent a shot straight through its horned head. It hit the ground in a broken heap right before the wounded knight, he let out a sigh of relief and looked down at the knight.

"At least i managed to save you my friend" He said before standing up and looking at the destruction around him. The last of the creatures were being run down by the other knights, a victory, but a hollow one, for the village had not been saved. He looked across the square at the burning houses, their occupants lay dead across the open alongside the hateful beasts who had committed these barbarous acts. The sky grew dark as smoke drifted into the air.

[Legital]

Wizna,
the Dobryrion, Kislev

Joquore, his eyes stained with tears of pain, tried to peer out of the slit visor on his helmet at the voice who had spoke to him. His breaths came in ragged gulps, his chest piece rising and falling with each pained gasp of air. He began to cough, and he felt blood dribbling down his chin, and he laid his head back down on the ground, trying not to move too much.

Around them, as the beastmen were all finally routing, the three knights came running back to their wounded brother and the man standing beside him. One of the knights said something to the another, and took off running towards his mount, to go get a healer or one of the sorcerers if they were free. The other two came to a stop by the downed knight, and started speaking to him, trying to remove his helmet. When they did, the face of a young, pale skinned man shown back, with blood staining his mouth and neck. Wild eyes look up between the two knights, and the other man. He tries to pull himself up with a weak hand, grasping at one of the knights kneeling over him, but the man firmly, yet lightly, makes him lay back down.

"We'll get you through this, Joquore." The bigger of the two knights (his gauntlets bloody from pummeling beastmen with his hands) said, his voice quite deep and accented. He sounded like he hailed from either the far north of the Empire, or the far south near the Dwarves. "Aye, don't worry lad. A stab to the tummy isn't bad. We'll get you healed up." The other knight said, glancing up at the one opposite of him, who met his gaze through his visor. The wound was bad. Really bad, actually. Only the magic of one of the healers or sorcerers could save him.

Then the larger knight looked up to the other man, and spoke up. "Who might you be, lad?" He asked, reaching up to remove his helmet. The man, previously concealed as it seems, sported a large beard with blue war paint stripes. His eyes were fierce and hard, but somewhat fatherly. His face was full, with two red cheeks. He almost looked like he had the face of a dwarf and the body of a man.

[Nyte]

A few miles south of Wizna
Near the Dobryrion
“Last Stand Hill”

For some time Friedrich stared at the knight’s extended hand in silence, seemingly expecting some kind of trap. After several more moments with no sign of any such trap however, Friedrich lowered his hammer with a grunt and stepped forward, taking the knights offered hand with one of his own. “While I may be many things knight, a liar is not one of them. Besides, immortality is not nearly the gift that people seem to think it is; of that, I can assure you” Friedrich said.

“And besides” Friedrich continued. “I’m sure the both of us share a similar purpose for being in this tortured place, even if our reasons for such differ greatly.”

Friedrich released the knight’s hand and holstered his hammer. Looking down the road in the direction of Wizna, Friedrich chuckled darkly. “Sigmar willing, we’ll both get what we came here for knight. Now, perhaps we should be off; from the sound of it, the fighting seems to have died down and I think we both have better things to do than stand out here in the dark.”

At that, Friedrich went back to his horse which had miraculously survived the fight with little lasting damage, and pulled himself up into the saddle. Turning back to face the knight and the two sorcerers Friedrich motioned in the direction of Wizna. “Well, shall we be going then?”

[The Huskar Social Union]

Wizna, edge of the Dobryrion, Kislev

Reinhardt turned to face the knight who had addressed him, towering over his brothers the knight looked like a raider from Norsca, his face was covered in blue war paint and he sported a large beard and a set of intimidating eyes. The man unnerved Reinhardt but he found his composure after a few seconds and answered him. "My name is Eric Reinhardt, captain of the Thirteenth Zwolen Outriders contingent, attached to lord General Maximilian Konig's host that has came north to take part in the campaign to destroy the remaining chaos forces that ravage the land of Kislev. My lord dispatched me and my men to track down and destroy this beast men force after we heard reports from locals at the town of Brzesc to the north that they were heading to this village. But we arrived too late, the monsters had already begun their looting and pillaging when we arrived"

He looked across the square once again, the rest of his force had begun to assemble in the center, a few of his riders had been wounded as he noted bandages and cuts across some of his men, and he noticed a few horses had no riders. He turned again to the Knight. "I thank you and your brothers in arms for their assistance in this matter, it ended far faster than it would have if it were just us. And i fear our casualties would have been far greater. Now if i may, who are you and what brings you here?"

[Gideus]

Extreme Northern Empire
Almost to Kislev
Near present day...

The Host trudged north. No longer having issues of water, it was now an issue of ensuring that they remained warm enough. Their magic would cover this field of danger for the most part, but they had needed to trade some of the worthless soft yellow metal - gold, the humans called it - to the Kislevites for furs to wear. Their initial appearance in the lands of humans - first in the land of the Border Princes - was one of extreme shock to the humans. Here, from the lands of the dead, was what they saw as a new form of Beastman. Making use of beasts that resembled dragons but that were clearly not, they were a terrible sight to behold marching across the lands they had claimed as their own. Paying no heed to the warring "princes" and "barons" around them, they only struck down that which attempted to strike them.

Further north, in the central Empire, near Talabheim, they had been confronted by a massive army of Imperial regulars. Refusing to be stopped, they had simply moved on. When shots were fired at them, the wards projected by the Engines of the Gods simply destroyed the pellets before they even reached the armored hides of the Host. Marching until they came to the river Talabec, they rested. They were confronted once more, and this time they had to speak to those present. Convincing the Witch Hunters and Warrior Priests that they were not minions of Chaos, they still had to barter passage, and what gold they had with them would not be enough. It was then that one of the members of the council of Skink Priests stepped forward and offered to Tek'tik that they enchant some of the equipment of these men. It would be faster and less brutal than any armed conflict; it would also be less harmful to their respective causes. Spending a fortnight camped on the river, the fourteen Skink Priests bent the magics of Life, the Heavens, Light, and the Beasts - as well as ancient incantations almost no other beings would understand - into the forms of enchantments. These enchantments were then forced into the bodies of the weapons presented to them and the armor freshly forged; this was a gift worth more than gold.

But now, in the cold of the north - after word had reached all those near their location that a somewhat benevolent force of "Lizards" was marching north - they were lost. It was clear to them that this was near the place they were meant to be; it was unclear exactly where they were meant to go.

As the night snow began to pick up, they began to send out their scouting parties. And then they found it. A force of the foul Beastmen attacking a village of humans. Mounting one of the Terradons and commanding the rest of the Terradon Riders to follow him, Tek'tik took off into the night. His eyes enhanced by magic, he scanned through the snow and to the ground for the village. Seeing it and the forces clashing there, he sent a signal to those on his wings and kicked the sides of his mount, sending it into a sharp spiral. The great reptile pulled up at the last minute, one of the corrupted beasts in its ferocious jaws and two in its vicious claws. Flying directly up in the air, they were dropped far enough to cause their intestines to splatter on the pavement around them. Looking groundward again, he saw that they had joined at the end of the fight. Sending the signal, most of the riders began circling outside of visibility for the archers and gunners on the ground. Descending to the ground with a few of his choice men, he dismounted and walked over to a dying man. The knights around him were clearly flabbergasted - and why shouldn't they be? A lizard riding a flying lizard had just flown from the heavens after killing three of the remaining Beastmen.

Drawing upon the Winds of Magic, Tek'tik looked unto the dying man - little more than a child, if he was not mistaken.

"Do not worry, warmblood. I am here to help." he stated, laying his hands around the wound. Clearly a fatal wound. However, he had arrived in time. Closing his eyes, a green light began emenating from his clawed hands, sinking into the flesh around the wound. The intestines began knitting themselves back together, the stomach sealed itself, and the muscles reformed. The skin began to close, leaving only a puckered scar. Opening his eyes and looking up, Tek'tik stood.

"I am Tek'tik, Diviner of War, envoy of Lord Mazdamundi." he stated in extremely stilted and accented Reikspiel. "And myself, along with my Host, are here to aid you."

[Legital]

Wizna,
the Dobryrion, Kislev

Gregori nodded to the vampire, holstering his own warhammer onto his back into it's small leather cradle strap. As Friedrich mounted his horse, Gregori had just called over his, a pale white stallion with light silver armor. As it seemed, white horses were the choice ride for many of the knights of Morr.

As soon as Gregori was on his horse, a mounted knight could be seen running towards them, galloping as fast as the horse could. Gregori eyed the knight as he came to a stop with a clank as his armor beat against itself, the horse neighing at the sudden pull on the reigns for the quick stop. The knight offered a quick short bow to Gregori from his place on his saddle, and looked towards the sorcerers. "Grand Master, we have a severely wounded man; It's Joquore. I urgently request Master Thall accompany me to see to the man at once." The knight said quickly.

Gregori had personally committed each Knight's name of his Order to memory, a process that was as much of a test of will as it was a personal creed fulfillment. Joquore, as he knew, was one of the younger knights.

"Lead on, Hector." Gregori said, knowing the man from his voice and posture. Gregori motioned at Friedrich, and followed after Hector, the two sorcerers trailing close behind.

---

The large bearded knight nodded at Reinhardt's words, glancing at the wounded knight before looking back at him. "Aye, glad we had you here as well. Anyways lad," He continued in his thick accent, "I'm Alroc. Just Alroc, me pa and ma never gave me another name." He explained, slamming his armored gauntlet to his chest in a proud gesture. "Knight Alroc, that's who I be." Then, gesturing at Joquore and the other knight tending to him, he spoke again. "We're Knights hailing from the Order of the Blackheart Raven's of Morr." He said, a touch of pride in his voice. "We've been traveling into upper Kislev in search of archenemy warbands to slay, along with necromancers and vampires. Our full Order rides with us these days." He said, motioning towards the burning village as Knights conversed amongst themselves and with some of the other Empire troops already in the village.

Suddenly, a knight from a ways away shouted something, and Alroc looked up just in time to see several odd creatures descend from the sky and near them. At first believing them to be small dragons, Alroc quickly dismissed that thought as he got a better look at them. But even as one of them touched down very close to them and began to walk towards them, Alroc had already raised his longsword, and the other knight who was tending to Joquore had produced a wicked looking dagger from his waist somewhere, and positioned himself to protect the dieing knight.

Alroc stepped forward into a ready stance just as the scaled creature began to speak.

"Do not worry, warmblood. I am here to help."

The creature said, approaching and laying his hands on Joquore. The two knights, somewhat confused, had stalled from attacking. Before one of them was about to make a stab at the creature, he noticed that Joquore's wounds were quickly healing, and in a matter of seconds the wound was closed up. The man had the power of healing, just as some of the Orders members had, along with the sorcerers. That was enough to stop the two able knights from attacking.

"I am Tek'tik, Diviner of War, envoy of Lord Mazdamundi." the thing said, "And myself, along with my Host, are here to aid you."

Just before Alroc could speak, the sound of galloping horses silenced him just as Gregori, Hector, the two sorcerers, and another individual arrived just to hear the creatures words.

"And I am Grand Master Gregori Hessen of the Order of the Blackheart Ravens, Knights of Morr." He said, eying the being. "I know your kind, but I must ask. What draws you here and whose banner do you march under?"

[The Huskar Social Union]

Wizna, edge of the Dobryrion, Kislev

Reinhardt had prepared to fire his weapon at this new creature, suspecting it was some new form of the chaos enemy, but he had held off from firing when he saw the wounds on the fallen knight being healed by the creature's physical contact. Lost for words at this magic he nearly dropped his gun in disbelief. He was even more lost when he heard this new arrival talk, it and its host had arrived to aide them in the war against the foul enemy in Kislev. Reinhardt prepared to speak when he heard the sound of horses approaching them. He turned and saw a heavily clad warrior atop a great charger approach them, this man must have been the Orders commander. He was flanked by two dark robed figures and a third figure, a man also wearing armour although not as impressive looking his armour and weapons still had quality look about them. He heard the lead figure address himself to the strange creature, obviously having heard it speak as they came towards them.

"And I am Grand Master Gregori Hessen of the Order of the Blackheart Ravens, Knights of Morr. I know your kind, but I must ask. What draws you here and whose banner do you march under?"

Reinhardt kept silent for the moment and waited for the creatures reply, he would identify himself to the grand master afterwards.

[Gideus]

"And I am Grand Master Gregori Hessen of the Order of the Blackheart Ravens, Knights of Morr. I know your kind, but I must ask. What draws you here and whose banner do you march under?"

Tek'tik was surprised. This human - clearly not one of their archivists or scholars - knew of his kind. Standing to his full height - while far shorter than that of a Saurus, still nearly as tall as a human - and he looked the man in the eyes. In one hand he held a staff of ancient make, carved from the woods of the oldest trees in Lustria. Adorned with feathers, gems, and precious metals, it was an artifact of great magical power. His left hand was still glowing with the energies that he had used to heal the dying man. His lizardlike countenance betrayed no human emotions; it was entirely alien to all but the few who knew of his kind. His colorful cloak of feathers shimmered in what little light there was.

"I am the... Commander of my Host. We march under my banner; that of the mighty Lord Mazdamundi." he stated, invoking the name of one of the most powerful spellcasters to ever live on this world; one of the Slann responsible for shaping the world into what it is today.

"And I march here, with my Host, to intervene on the night of... Hexensnatch. The night on which those which you know of as Morrslieb and Mannslieb will be in the sky together."

Hunching over again, he started scrawling a symbol out in the snow on the ground. It was that of a Chaos warhost; that of one that was rising in the extreme north.

"It has been foreseen that those of the Archenemy will strike out once more on that night. We are here to provide aid, and if none of you warmbloods shall stand in their way, to stand alone.