Warhammer: Come The Storm [IC/OPEN]

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

WARHAMMER: COME THE STORM

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IC Thread

OOC Thread

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"In Hochland, a man may love his Longrifle more than his wife."

Popular saying

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The great Twin-Tailed Comet, a portent tied to both Sigmar and the Empire, has been seen in the sky. To some, it is a sign of hope. To others, the harbinger of doom.
Lurking within the tangled depths of the vast forests are mutants, Beastmen and worse.

Mostly, they wait for the day when they shall pour out of the forests to burn the cities and claim The Empire for Chaos. According to various omens, that day is coming; the warpgates will again expand and the Gods will reward their chosen people with blood and the gifts of Chaos. So they wait in the forests, picking off those that wander too far from the roads but mostly fighting amongst themselves - for how else shall the strong prevail?

Dangerous as these bands are, they are not as great a threat as those Human servants of Chaos already in the towns and cities, plotting the downfall of The Empire and worshipping the Chaos Gods behind securely-locked doors. These are indistinguishable from the ordinary citizens of The Empire. Such are the Chaos cultists within The Empire, working to undermine it and paving the way for the ascension of their foul gods.

And so, in dark subterranean caverns and behind the magnificent facades of rich town houses, they hatch their foul plots.
Life in The Empire goes on as normal, the authorities satisfy themselves with the occasional trial, and with sanctioning the destruction of villages believed to be harbouring the agents of Chaos.

As the nobles of The Empire continue to indulge themselves in parties and other glittering social events, and the middle classes go blithely on their way seeking to enrich themselves and join the ranks of the nobility. At the bottom the common folk struggle to do the best they can, worshiping their gods and praying that the harvest will be good this year. But the times are changing, the number of unnatural births is growing each year, and the Dragon's Wood stirs..

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[The Blazing Aura]

"News of any caravans about?" Lanya asked as she slipped into a now-vacant seat at the bar. She was running low on money for the first time since she'd entered Bergsburg. Whilst not opposed to stealing to keep herself fed, watered and sheltered, she knew it was always a risky thing in smaller towns such as this.
"Aye," the barkeep replied, much to Lanya's surprise (no-one seemed to stop in this little town, or at least no-one with any use for mercenaries at any rate) "Group o' pilgrims 'eading over to Gruyden. Said they'd lost their last lot o' guards at the border with Middenland, 'pparently they want some more ta get the rest o' the way."
"Thanks" Lanya said, making a mental note to find out where this group was later, right now she planned to have a few drinks of the cheap ale the inn normally provided, as much as a thank you to the barkeep as any words she'd uttered. The two had entered some kind of weird friendship in the few months she'd been here, renting out one of his rooms as a base. Once the townspeople were over the fact she was no bandit or chaos worshiper (most of them had never encountered someone of Lanya's skin colour in their life, and were afraid of her for it), they'd just treated her as a permanent fixture in the bar, never really welcoming her or anything unless she was separating herself from some of the coin in her purse. Not that Lanya minded, she'd never really fitted in anywhere besides Copher before and she wasn't particularly trying now, it was just that alcohol always seemed to be the best way to make friends.

Paying for her last few drinks at the inn Lanya stumbled outside, she wasn't too drunk, just a bit tipsy was all. 'Still' she thought to herself 'might as well make myself look presentable.' Checking her armour was straight and (relatively) clean, and that her spear, bow and quiver were in place she set out to find these pilgrims the barkeep had mentioned, not that she could remember where they were going, to try and get her next payment.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

It was dark night when the carriage finally reached Hergig. On the coachbox sat the driver who was wielding a whip with which he had been striking the horses throughout the day. Next to him sat a guard wielding a halberd and a lantern to light the way. Both of them were dressed like a noblemans servants. At the gates of Hergig they were checked by the guards but some documents presented to them through the window of the carriage made them back of and let the carriage go through. From the gate they drove to one of the taverns reserved for a little more noble guests. There the driver stopped the carriage while the guard climbed down and opened the door of the carriage before standing at attention. And out of the carriae stepped a rather ugly human who was walking with a limp and seemed to have a slight humpback. With a nod he signaled the guard to close the door behind him and immediately the driver guided the horses with the carriage towards the stables through using his whip. While he did so, the ugly man and his companion entered the tavern and walked up to the counter. There the ugly man began speaking to the tavern owner to get a room for himself.

"Do you possibly have any rooms left? If yes then I`d like to rent one. My guard and the carriage driver don`t need one. Which reminds me that I will also rent a place in your stables to park my carriage in there."

At first the tavern owner only stared at him but then with quite some disgust in his voice and his face he answered with:

"We don`t give rooms to dirty mutants and chaos worshippers like you and if you ugly abomination won´t leave immediately I`ll call the the angry mob!"

The asnwer didn`t seem to unsettle the ugly man in the slightest. Instead he just made a motion towards the guard which immediately acted and hit the tavern owner with the shaft of his hellebard, causing the tavern keeper to fall down onto the ground while bleeding out of a minot wound on his head. The ugly man then just walked around the counter and kneeled down to the tavern owner. Grabbing the tavern owner`s chin and making him look at his face he hissed at him:

"You call me an abomination? A Mutant? Even a worshipper of Chaos? I have fought all of these during my life. And I have paid for it. Look at. That`s the price you pay when going to war against the enemies of the empire. And now give me a fucking room or I`ll slice your head off and burn it on a stake cause no one in the empire has the right to deny their protectors the right to have a place to sleep at."

The Tavern owner just stared at him with his eyes wide open in fear and tried to nod. He then slowly got up and handed the ugly man a key while stuttering in fear.

"Here...here. Go...go up the st...stairs in the back...and...and then...just turn...turn...right. It...it`s the...the 6. room. I hope that...that you`ll enjoy your stay Herr...Herr...Herr...?"

Already walking up the stairs the ugly man turned around one last time and said in a threatening tone:

"It`s Haegler. Dietrich Ekerhart Haegler to be correct. Remember this name barkeeper..."

Continuing to walk up the stairs with his guard following him he shouted one last time over his shoulder:

"You will receive your payment tomorrow!"

[Exelia]

The Butcher of Hochland

A lone, almost invisible man walked among the crowd in Bergsburg. Crowds were common in this part of the city, and nobody noticed the disappearance of someone homeless, or of someone too drunk from the tavern.

Not until someone wandered the forests, at least.

For years now people were afraid of wandering the forests, as an unknown, sadistic killer had plagued the hinterlands for years. The killings were slow, at first, hardly even attributable to a single person. It started with bodies appearing off the beaten path, with wounds clearly showing a violent demise. Nobody paid it much mind, as people died to wild animals, bandits, and treachery very often outside the city. Worrying only started as the bodies started increasing, and people from town started to disappear. Corpses were displayed in strange, terrifying poses, often horrifically mutilated with clear signs of torture. Traders, hunters, and guardsmen were afraid of leaving town for fear of discovering another one of the maniac's victims, or becoming one themselves.

Still, few had managed to discover the source. Few knew the true extent of the crimes. Few knew that a champion of Slaanesh preyed upon them, treating the populace as little more than playthings. Only some of the upper crust in society really suspected, and they were too enamored by possible recruitment into pleasure to truly be worried about it.

All this allowed Brigund Sigismund, once a lowly street urchin, to enact his twisted desires upon those unfortunate enough to come underneath his gaze. He wandered Bergsburg, as he had so many nights, looking for victims, or potential recruits. After all, the gifts of Slaanesh could only do so much, and the Dark Prince demanded his share of the loot.

Wandering through the streets was something Brigund loved doing. His hearing was sharper than a fox's, and he could hear every movement, every conversation, and every blade being unsheathed, as he walked through the city. The sensual feeling of being close to others was stimulating, although extremely tame by his standards.

Eventually, Brigund tired of searching, and grew restless. He needed satisfaction, and he needed it now, lest he lose control of himself. Ale would do the trick until he could find someone that would truly satiate his desires.

A lone tavern stood out to him, one he had yet to grace. Walking inside, he noticed it was remarkably unremarkable, with the sole exception being a dark-skinned woman finishing her drinks and grooming herself. An interesting upset to the monogamy of Hochland's life, a man like Brigund would never be able to resist interacting with her. She eventually finished, and left outside, oblivious to the man watching her.

As she groomed herself again outside, Brigund walked out, and slowly, non-threateningly approached her. She was a tough cookie for sure, and Brigund doubted violence would take place, at least tonight. He wanted to catalog her...for future visitations.

"So, what is a lady of your fine background doing around these parts? Hochland is not exactly the center of the Empire."

Brigund's voice was extremely smooth, and exceptionally gentle. Slaanesh's gifts had altered his voice to that nearly of a musical instrument, with every intonation bringing pleasure, or pain, to the ears of the beholder. For this woman, Brigund ensured that his voice would remain among the most beautiful she has likely heard.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

Last Son of Naughtwrain

From the roads heading east, a rain soaked and heavily loaded horse and rider slowly approached the gates of Bergsburg as the afternoon sun hid behind a thick layer of clouds. Both were weary from the days of long travel on the muddy roads between towns. Clad in a dull steel curiass and helmet subtly marked with the sigils of the imperial military, the guards let the faintly regal and obviously exhausted duo through the gates without any fuss. He rode through the main streets, still dripping wet with rainwater as the crowds parted in his wake.

Some men glared, some looked curiously, most didn't care and just got out of the way as he wearily trotted through Bergsburg, where he arranged to stay for several nights.

Hochland was an unfamiliar land, Bergsburg especially so. Artius was native to the neighboring province of Ostland, where he had been raised in the noble family of Naughtwrain. That had been put to an end many years ago by some damned cultist that had killed them to a man with an arcane ritual, and had forced the last of the name into a long and drawn out hunt. He had searched all throughout Ostland for wiser heads to decide his course, as his marital upbringing made him a highly skilled soldier, but a poor witch hunter. With the what little of the family money he could scrounge from the ransacked estate, Artius set out for Hochland, vowing to find vengeance for his slaughtered family and return with what was stolen. He had wandered as a furious ghost throughout Ostland, and now had drifted west, where rumors of some sadistic murderer had drawn him to Bergsburg. This had been quite a change of pace from the highly organized, quick moving life of the Emperial Army, where Artius spent several grueling years.

But some things never change. The exhaustion of a nearly forty five mile horse ride through the rain was wearing down both his and the equine's patience. Following the instructions, Artius arrived at seemingly unmarked building just as the last of the sun's filtered light began to dim and the crowds thinned to scattered groups of three or four. He approached around the side, and perhaps a bit rashly called at a passerby, whom appeared to be trying to speak to dark-skinned woman with a voice he could only classify as deeply annoying. A loud whistle got the mans' attention, as he horse reluctantly ambled to a halt about six paces away from the pair.

"Oi! You lad!" flicking his chin outwards for emphasis "This is the Blind Raven, is it not?"

[The Blazing Aura]

The Butcher of Hochland

A lone, almost invisible man walked among the crowd in Bergsburg. Crowds were common in this part of the city, and nobody noticed the disappearance of someone homeless, or of someone too drunk from the tavern.

Not until someone wandered the forests, at least.

For years now people were afraid of wandering the forests, as an unknown, sadistic killer had plagued the hinterlands for years. The killings were slow, at first, hardly even attributable to a single person. It started with bodies appearing off the beaten path, with wounds clearly showing a violent demise. Nobody paid it much mind, as people died to wild animals, bandits, and treachery very often outside the city. Worrying only started as the bodies started increasing, and people from town started to disappear. Corpses were displayed in strange, terrifying poses, often horrifically mutilated with clear signs of torture. Traders, hunters, and guardsmen were afraid of leaving town for fear of discovering another one of the maniac's victims, or becoming one themselves.

Still, few had managed to discover the source. Few knew the true extent of the crimes. Few knew that a champion of Slaanesh preyed upon them, treating the populace as little more than playthings. Only some of the upper crust in society really suspected, and they were too enamored by possible recruitment into pleasure to truly be worried about it.

All this allowed Brigund Sigismund, once a lowly street urchin, to enact his twisted desires upon those unfortunate enough to come underneath his gaze. He wandered Bergsburg, as he had so many nights, looking for victims, or potential recruits. After all, the gifts of Slaanesh could only do so much, and the Dark Prince demanded his share of the loot.

Wandering through the streets was something Brigund loved doing. His hearing was sharper than a fox's, and he could hear every movement, every conversation, and every blade being unsheathed, as he walked through the city. The sensual feeling of being close to others was stimulating, although extremely tame by his standards.

Eventually, Brigund tired of searching, and grew restless. He needed satisfaction, and he needed it now, lest he lose control of himself. Ale would do the trick until he could find someone that would truly satiate his desires.

A lone tavern stood out to him, one he had yet to grace. Walking inside, he noticed it was remarkably unremarkable, with the sole exception being a dark-skinned woman finishing her drinks and grooming herself. An interesting upset to the monogamy of Hochland's life, a man like Brigund would never be able to resist interacting with her. She eventually finished, and left outside, oblivious to the man watching her.

As she groomed herself again outside, Brigund walked out, and slowly, non-threateningly approached her. She was a tough cookie for sure, and Brigund doubted violence would take place, at least tonight. He wanted to catalog her...for future visitations.

"So, what is a lady of your fine background doing around these parts? Hochland is not exactly the center of the Empire."

Brigund's voice was extremely smooth, and exceptionally gentle. Slaanesh's gifts had altered his voice to that nearly of a musical instrument, with every intonation bringing pleasure, or pain, to the ears of the beholder. For this woman, Brigund ensured that his voice would remain among the most beautiful she has likely heard.

Lanya raised an eyebrow at the voice as it washed over her, it made her inside tingle and made her want to do some things that weren't appropriate for a woman to do on the streets of Copher, let alone the Empire. Still she kept a clear head, and turned to face the man who'd spoken to her. Unsurprisingly it was one of the men from the inn, she'd noticed him ogling her, as had many others throughout her stay in Bergsburg, and had ignored him, hoping that ogling was all he'd do, something which was obviously not the case.
"If you knew a thing about me you would see I am no lady." Lanya replied, whilst giving the man a once over. "My reasons here are simple, see the spear and bow on my back? Let them tell you what I do." She finished giving the man the once over and pretended to be thinking, she stood still for a couple of seconds, not long enough to let him formulate a reply before speaking again. "Besides, you're not my type, so either head back into the inn and try for a local girl or get back onto the streets, that trick with your voice is nice 'n all but it's not going to get you anything from me." With that she turned around and headed in the direction the barkeep had pointed her in to find her latest job.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Marius Wolff
Hergig, Hochland
The Empire

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Hergig was a town like many others within the Empire. Walls of wood to fend off the creatures that lurked in the shadows of the Drakwald surrounded the town's many buildings. Trade fueled the town, and it was this fuel that allowed it to grow to what it was nowadays. Smoke rose from many a chimney, and one could smell the typical smell associated with places inhabited by a large group of humans from quite some distance away.

As such, Marius Wolff was all too glad of the raised collar his uniform gave him, blocking out most of it. His horse slowly trudged through the mud that was apparently a road, approaching the town's eastern gate. Two guardsmen, clad in a faded green-red Hochland uniform, stood by the gate, spears raised as they checked anyone that sought to enter. Good. Marius thought to himself. His horse came to a halt, and the Witch Hunter patiently waited until those in front of him had all passed, most of them having had to hand over a small amount of coin, for whatever reason the town's mayor had declared this was necessary. He did not deign get off his horse when it was his turn. Instead, he looked towards both of the guardsmen individually, not saying a single word as he looked them straight in the eyes. "You... you may pass, sir." One of them told him quickly, somewhat frightened. His comrade looked to be even more scared of the Witch Hunter. Perhaps they have something to hide. He would have to look into that later.

The Witch Hunter made his way through town, until he arrived at what appeared to be the most classy, and expensive, inn. Marius brought his horse to the inn's stable, paying the stableboy a piece of copper before he entered the inn, getting no small amount of looks with varying amounts of worry. Lowering his collar, the Witch Hunter simply walked over towards the counter, and spoke for the first time since he had entered Hergig. "Innkeeper," he began, "your finest room." The innkeeper put down the cup he had been cleaning, and looked towards the Witch Hunter with a surprising amount of courage considering the reactions he had provoked in the rest of the town. A faithful man has nothing to fear. "I'm afraid it's already taken, milord. Another room, perhaps?" Marius tilted his head slightly, looking into the man's eyes directly. "You think nothing short but the best will do for an appointed servant of Sigmar?" The innkeeper began to look a bit more worried already. "I-I, like I said, my lord, the best room has already been taken by a couple of noble descent, milord, they won't be leaving town for a couple of days yet!" The Witch Hunter did not budge. "You would place one wealthy by virtue of birth above those that cleanse this world of Sigmar's enemies, sir? Are you a faithful man?" The man began getting ever more fearful, as was his right. "There's... there's my own room! Here, take the key! It's all the way upstairs!" The innkeep threw the key to a room towards the Witch Hunter, whom caught it mid air. "Excellent. I expect you to bring me the finest breakfast and dinner upstairs. Knock before you enter."

Marius made his way upstairs, finding his way to the innkeep's room. Well, his room, now. The chamber was a luxurious one indeed, and the establishment's owner clearly had spared no expense on his own quarters. He put down his bag. It would do nicely. The Witch Hunter took off his coat, hat, and armor, and lay his weapons on the bed before he sat down at a desk with several of the books he had taken with him. Evil was afoot in the area. He would destroy it.

[Ardavia]

Elicia Eisenstern

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"Johann, grab that candlestick. It looks like gold, should be valuable. Helmut, are you done with the books yet?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, we must hurry. It's getting dark in a few hours, and I'm not too eager on our chances in the forest at night, let alone inside an undead-infested ruin."

With that, Elicia hefted her own bag, weighed down by old books, and looked at her small band of mercenaries, all of them laden with similar leather bags, some jingling with the sound of metal, and wearing simple leather armour with odd bits of rusty maille and mismatched pieces of steel plate armour, and wielding simple spears and warhammers.

This particular castle hadn't been too productive. The architecture was interesting, granted, and she'd be very interested in having a closer look at the stonework and building methods used (especially seeing as to how complete it all was despite its age and the time it had stood abandoned), but the place was positively swarming with undead and most of the worthwhile loot had either been ravaged by the passing of time or just wasn't there anymore.

Rolling her shoulders to ease up the stiffness in them, she turned toward the exit and started walking, hearing armour and loaded bags clank and clink as her guards followed, leather boots trampling over rotten floorboards. As she reached the end of the wide corridor, she froze and held a hand up.

Behind her, a clapping noise was heard, and she turned around slowly, afraid of what she'd find. Her guards did the same, and tensed up, hefting their weapons, as they saw what was making the noise.

At the end of the corridor, just outside a door they'd looked at earlier but ignored (owing to its state of being locked) was a man in fine clothing. Unusually pale, and smiling a very ominous smile, he seemed completely unarmed, but Elicia knew what he was. She may not have seen a live one before, but there were enough references in the books she'd found to recognize his... ah, condition.

"Vampire," she hissed quietly. His smile grew.

"So the looter is well-read, is she? Surprising, to a degree. Tell me, girl, you are a mage, are you not? The Lore of Fire, unless I'm mistaken. You have that stench of ash and cinder about you... Imagine that, I come home to my temporary lodgings and find it has been broken into. Mere mortals, little better than rats, intruding, even stealing my property!"

By the end of his short rant, the vampire's voice had risen at least an octave into an enraged screech, his pleasant smile gone in favour of a bestial mask of rage.

"Enough with these pleasantries."

Before Elicia manged to even twitch, the vampire was among them, and Johann's head was torn off his body in a spray of bright arterial blood.


By the time she managed to start drawing at the power she'd been born with, Helmut followed him into the afterlife, his spine torn out and discarded contemptuously.


As her arms started to light up with wavy fire-like patterns shining a deep orange, Wolfried had been nailed to a wall through the gut by Johann's spear.


Elicia drew in breath in preparation for spewing fire while Gotthard died, his throat torn open by the vampire's sharp teeth and his lifeblood spilling over the floor as he vainly tried to stem the bleeding with fumbling hands.


And then she was in the air, choking for air with a pale and unnaturally strong hand around her throat as sparks and little more flew from her mouth and her legs kicked underneath her, deprived of the ground they'd previously stood on. The vampire leered up at her.

"Interesting... Yes. You have earned a temporary reprieve from death."



Elicia barely registered his sentence as the world went black.

[Exelia]

Lanya raised an eyebrow at the voice as it washed over her, it made her inside tingle and made her want to do some things that weren't appropriate for a woman to do on the streets of Copher, let alone the Empire. Still she kept a clear head, and turned to face the man who'd spoken to her. Unsurprisingly it was one of the men from the inn, she'd noticed him ogling her, as had many others throughout her stay in Bergsburg, and had ignored him, hoping that ogling was all he'd do, something which was obviously not the case.
"If you knew a thing about me you would see I am no lady." Lanya replied, whilst giving the man a once over. "My reasons here are simple, see the spear and bow on my back? Let them tell you what I do." She finished giving the man the once over and pretended to be thinking, she stood still for a couple of seconds, not long enough to let him formulate a reply before speaking again. "Besides, you're not my type, so either head back into the inn and try for a local girl or get back onto the streets, that trick with your voice is nice 'n all but it's not going to get you anything from me." With that she turned around and headed in the direction the barkeep had pointed her in to find her latest job.

Brigund enjoyed a fight, both verbally and in reality, and this woman had proven herself strong enough to completely resist his early attempts at seduction. Nonetheless, she decided to leave, and Brigund decided it would be a poor idea to pursue. While he could take her, in his mind, doing so in the city was a remarkably poor idea, and would no doubt lead to his own injury, something he would like to do for the time being.

"Very well, huntress. I would merely suggest you be careful in these parts, especially outside the city. There are....certain elements, out there, that can lead to the demise of an unwary foreigner quite quickly. I bid you farewell, and I hope we see each other again."

As the woman left, Brgiund waited to watch her hips swaying, until his gaze was interrupted by a stranger.

Last Son of Naughtwrain

From the roads heading east, a rain soaked and heavily loaded horse and rider slowly approached the gates of Bergsburg as the afternoon sun hid behind a thick layer of clouds. Both were weary from the days of long travel on the muddy roads between towns. Clad in a dull steel curiass and helmet subtly marked with the sigils of the imperial military, the guards let the faintly regal and obviously exhausted duo through the gates without any fuss. He rode through the main streets, still dripping wet with rainwater as the crowds parted in his wake.

Some men glared, some looked curiously, most didn't care and just got out of the way as he wearily trotted through Bergsburg, where he arranged to stay for several nights.

Hochland was an unfamiliar land, Bergsburg especially so. Artius was native to the neighboring province of Ostland, where he had been raised in the noble family of Naughtwrain. That had been put to an end many years ago by some damned cultist that had killed them to a man with an arcane ritual, and had forced the last of the name into a long and drawn out hunt. He had searched all throughout Ostland for wiser heads to decide his course, as his marital upbringing made him a highly skilled soldier, but a poor witch hunter. With the what little of the family money he could scrounge from the ransacked estate, Artius set out for Hochland, vowing to find vengeance for his slaughtered family and return with what was stolen. He had wandered as a furious ghost throughout Ostland, and now had drifted west, where rumors of some sadistic murderer had drawn him to Bergsburg. This had been quite a change of pace from the highly organized, quick moving life of the Emperial Army, where Artius spent several grueling years.

But some things never change. The exhaustion of a nearly forty five mile horse ride through the rain was wearing down both his and the equine's patience. Following the instructions, Artius arrived at seemingly unmarked building just as the last of the sun's filtered light began to dim and the crowds thinned to scattered groups of three or four. He approached around the side, and perhaps a bit rashly called at a passerby, whom appeared to be trying to speak to dark-skinned woman with a voice he could only classify as deeply annoying. A loud whistle got the mans' attention, as he horse reluctantly ambled to a halt about six paces away from the pair.

"Oi! You lad!" flicking his chin outwards for emphasis "This is the Blind Raven, is it not?"

A man, of no doubt noble descent, clad in heavy armor, had annoyed Brigund by interrupting his obsession and addictive stare.

"Yes, sir. This is the Black Raven, at least, that is what the sign says. I was about to go in myself, as certain someone had distracted me from actually ordering anything. If you wish, we could go in and drink together, and have a nice chat. You seem foreign to this land - perhaps I could enlighten you on the peculiarities of the townsfolk."

Brigund smiled an inviting smile, but he doubted it would work on a soldier with any experience. No amount of sweet-talk would convince a man with roper convictions and a strong willpower.

[Bhikkustan]

Albrecht sat at the back of the roof, drinking down a pint of cheap tilean rotgut. The liquor had a disgusting acrid taste, but it kept you warm inside. Besides, it was all he could afford on his measly soldiers pension. The innkeeper was a good man, and he gave Albrecht lower rates on a room, but it was still hard to get by. Nothing a good battle couldn't fix. Too bad he no longer fought for the Hochland forest watch. He saw two clean-shaven young soldiers sitting across from the fire. One was bragging about how he had shot a beastman from the walls, and his peers were giving him their complete attention. From the way he told bit, he might as well have killed a chaos god itself. He looked over towards them, before sitting nearby. He called out, "ach, good work. The more you kill the less we need to kill tommorrow." The soldier smiled, and Albrecht settled down, before telling a tale of his own, "But have you ever fought the undead?" He could see in the terror of their eyes that they hadn't. "Terrible things. I fought with a witch hunter once, at the battle of Helstone Fell. We charged in, our blades blessed by the local priest. It did nothing. Our blades found no purchase on their ethereal forms, and only the witch hunter's enchanted blade and a wizards spells could harm them. The solid dead are another matter. They are easy to slay, but their blades cut with the chill of the grave. We nearly broke, but sigmar delivered us. I caught sight of the evil necromancer that led them, and cut him down with this blade here," he said, brandishing the blade to add effect, "and they just crumpled to the ground. I still praise sigmar every day that I survived that battle."

He finished his story, before taking another swig from his frothing mug of ale. The soldiers looked at him with admiration. He smiled. What he wouldn't give for another battle like that. At that moment he saw a cloaked figure walk into the inn and demand a room. He smiled. It was a witch hunter. "Perfect timing," he muttered, before returning to his drink.

[The Unhallowed City]

The Hunter stood and stared. Before her sat vast cluster of woodland and wildlife that many were content to refer to simply as "the forest". The dirt was ground beneath a heel as her body turned, regarding the stout two-room cottage. The veritable minefield of hunting traps was usually enough to dissuade any wayward beasts from attempting to breach the perimeter, but more had to be done. She worked quickly.

Doors, front and back, were barred. Loose floorboards were uprooted and valuables were hidden in a tidy crawlspace beneath. The windows were covered, the fires were doused, the traps were triple-checked, and the old tree half-bent over her home was kindly asked if it would mind staying upright a few years longer. As always, it did not seem keen on responding. She briefly lamented her inability to carry spares of everything. Spare arrows, even, though perhaps that just meant carrying more ammo.

Mrrrow.

The Hunter looked from the extra pair of boots in her hands to the curious voice that had forced itself onto the tracks, effectively forcing her train of thought to come to a screeching halt. "Oh." She extended an accommodating hand to scratch the cat's head, deriving some satisfaction from the following purrs. "I suppose I should have informed you." Accusation in the form of an unwavering gaze drew out elaboration, though slowly, "I'll be out- Yes, out. Elsewhere. You will be perfectly fine. Just to town, I mean. No! I won't be long."

Satisfied, the feline withdrew, and the Hunter rose from her crouched position to recollect herself. Where was I? Her masked gaze drifted to a traveling pack. Ah. Spare boots.

[Ardavia]

Elicia gasped as consciousness returned, drawing deep breaths, hacking and coughing.

The memory of the events just before she lost consciousness returned to her, and she was wide awake.

Only now, she noticed that she was lying on a fine bed, wearing unfamiliar clothes. Expensive ones, even. Silks and fine cloth, an elaborate dress. Old too, she recognized the design from centuries old paintings she'd seen.

Someone had undressed her, she realized, and dressed her up like a doll. And with that realization came indignant anger and hate for her captor.

The sleeves of the dress began to smolder as her arms lit up with that wavy pattern, rage overtaking her conscious mind as elaborate fantasies of burning that murderous undead scum began appearing in her mind.


Then a voice intruded on her precious fantasies. A very familiar voice.


"Ah, ah, ah. You may wish to not do that."


Whirling on the source in a blur of silk, Elicia froze. Only now had she noticed the insistent prickling at her throat, and a brief glance down confirmed it to be a collar. Fine leather, with metallic rivets, and apparently enchanted to react to magic, going by the spikes she could feel poking at her skin that receded as her magic did.


She had been collared. Leashed like a dog. The rage rose to the surface again, but this time it was controlled, focused, cold. Sheer loathing for the vampire filled her as the smug bastard wandered up to her, taking her chin in his hand and forcing her head up to look at him.

The undead smiled, and then spoke.

"Once upon a time, I would have turned you and set you free, little mage, and watched what you would have gotten up to given the gift of eternal life. But I cannot currently risk that, amusing as it would surely be. You see, there are rumours of Witch Hunters, fanatics of Sigmar, in the area, and I would rather not risk anything lead them to me. Unfortunately, this means I can neither hunt as I normally would, nor can I let you leave. So you shall serve as my current food source.

"Feel honoured to serve your betters."

Releasing Elicia's chin, the monster sauntered off, uncaring of her burning glare piercing into his back.

"Feel free to wander the castle, but I must warn you, the collar will not take nicely to attempts to leave."



As soon as he was out of sight, she sagged in despair.

How was she supposed to get out of this? Her only weapon was denied to her, she was undoubtedly miles from civilization at the least, and her captor had just told her what fate awaited her. She'd be drained dry before he let her go.

Damn it.

Damn it all.

It was supposed to be a quiet run, just investigate the castle, grab whatever looked interesting, and go back home.


Now she was stuck here as a snack for a vampire, her store was languishing without her (more importantly, all the books she still had left to read and study), and her mercenaries were dead. It would be pure hell to hire more of them when the last group had disappeared without a trace.

[Remnants of Exilvania]

After Dietrich had taken a look at his room and thoroughfully searched it for hidden doors and other ways to spy him in this room he put a small bag that he had been carrying with him down near a desk before leaving his room. The guard had been waiting before the door all the time and DIetrich now just looked at him and barked:

"Stay here! Guard this room! Don`t let anyone except for me enter! I`ll go get a drink..."

And with this he limped back down into the taverns taproom. While coming down the stairs he could see and hear a very peculiar looking man. When he heard words like "appointed servant of Sigmar" he immediately froze and stayed out of sight. Overhearing the rest of the conversation he took note of the innkeeper giving the man his own room. The man then came towards the stairs and Dooetrich managed just in time to hide in the shadows. Once the man had passed he limped down to the counter while looking worriedly over his shoulder if the man would come back. Once he reached the counter he asked the already nervous innkeeper:

"Who was that? Is it someone from the emperors family or who to deserve such treatment?"

When the innkeeper heard this his face paled and he began to hecticly look all around the room before hissing his answer to Dietrich:

That was a witch hunter! One of SIgmar`s great servants! They cleanse the world of all evil and corruption! Surely you as a veteran of the armies of our mighty empire must have heard of these men and even fought with them?"

When DIetrich heard that he let out a grim laugh before responding:

"Hehehehe! I`m glad I never had to fight alongside them. People fighting with them usually tend to never return again. And sometimes they`re a bit overenthusiastic. I once knew a great imperial captian. He was from Middenland. A wonderful man. Leading the charge against the Chaos hordes ransacking settlements and just being an example for every soldier. Then he dared to just take a single piece of the armour of one of his fallen enemies from the ground to take a look at it and think about what was going on in these madmens head. Ironically he soon didn`t have a head to think with anymore cause a nearby witch hunter blew it off and declared him as tainted by chaos. We were very cautious with the bodies afterwards and made shure not to touch them when we prepared them to be burned. But that doesn`t really matter. Please give me a portion of your cheapest beer. I`ll wait for it in the corner over there."

During Dietrich`s story the innkeeper had paled even more so that he was almost looking dead now and his fingers were shaking badly when he filled the jug with the ordered beer. He then brought it over to Dietrich and quickly sneaked back behind his counter like a rat fearing the cat. Dietrich had made himself comfortable in the dark corner and surveyed the whole room while occasionally taking a sip from his beer. Whenever he took one his lips formed a small smirk as he always drowned in nostalgic memories of the past where he had always sat in taverns and drunk cheap beer. Good old times in those taverns but now he had been chosen to do dirty work again.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

As the woman left, Brgiund waited to watch her hips swaying, until his gaze was interrupted by a stranger.

Last Son of Naughtwrain

A loud whistle got the mans' attention, as he horse reluctantly ambled to a halt about six paces away from the pair.

"Oi! You lad!" flicking his chin outwards for emphasis "This is the Blind Raven, is it not?"

A man, of no doubt noble descent, clad in heavy armor, had annoyed Brigund by interrupting his obsession and addictive stare.

"Yes, sir. This is the Black Raven, at least, that is what the sign says. I was about to go in myself, as certain someone had distracted me from actually ordering anything. If you wish, we could go in and drink together, and have a nice chat. You seem foreign to this land - perhaps I could enlighten you on the peculiarities of the townsfolk."

Brigund smiled an inviting smile, but he doubted it would work on a soldier with any experience. No amount of sweet-talk would convince a man with roper convictions and a strong willpower.

You'd have gone in if you weren't staring at her ars-

Beer. Beer had been on Artius's mind for the past few hours. His thoughts had been reveling at the thought of hot, crusty breads and soft, ripened cheeses and succulent fruits all with a hearty bowl of hot sausage and mushroom stew with a few stines of warm ale for hours, these thoughts taunting him as a harsh reminder to double check how much food you're bringing on a cross country trek. He looked at this seemingly generous fellow through the exhausted thousand yard stare of a man with much to do and a fraction of a damn to do it with.

The fellow adopted an alien and slightly worrying imitation of a friendly smile. It reminded him of many things, a obnoxiusly cheerful grot for instance, but an old expression kept coming back to him as the gentleman below smiled. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. Some deep, animal instinct was triggered, like the way a dogs can smell evil as they say. But by this point, he would've accepted some beer and local pointers from a damned bloodletter.

"Aye, " Artius agreed as a look of cautious worry crept into his face " insofar as you'll quit smiling like that."

He tried to pass it off as a cordial request, but it was more of an order.

"I'll be in after I get my horse stowed away and my stuff moved."

And, he retaliated with his own friendly smile and a gesture of two fingers as he slowly sauntered off towards the stables.

"I'm having two beers, if you wouldn't mind. Don't worry, I can cover for the both of us."

[Rygondria]

Rustil rode his horse on a rough road, the sound of his armor clanking together echoed through the woods along with the noise of his horses hoofs on the stones of the road. Rain poured on his armor and dripped off the scabbard of his sword.," Hmm it is best i find a place to stay for the night,It is not safe to wander these woods at night,especially with rumors of beastmen wandering around,yet again this may be an opportunity to finally finish this silly quest of repentance and return home to my birthright". He then halted his horse when he saw what appeared to be a gor who appeared to be separated from his herd. Rusti seeing an opportunity for not only slaying a beastman but possibly a step forward to ending his quest.He pulled out his lance and shouted," For the Lady"!and began to charge the gor. The Gor only had time to turn around before the lance broke through his skin,shattered his rib cage and impaled his heart. The lance would then proceed to split in half,the top half being impaled in the gor while the bottom half was held in rustis hand.," Waste of a good lance", Rusti said before riding offf

After an hour of traveling rusti arrived in the town of Heedenhof,the townsfolk where surprised to see that there was a bretonnian knight in there town,Even in hochland as a whole. A man with a longrifle on his back would approach rusti and say," Little far from Bretonnia aren't ya"? Rusti looked at the man and said," I am on a quest of great importance,Do you have a tavern"? The man nodded and pointed toward a building named the Drunken Huntsman and said," I recommend you try the fried Venision it is a Delicacy here in Hochland,it will be more that enough to satisy your hunger". Rusti nodded and said," Thank you peasant". He then hitched his horse and walked into the tavern where he proceeded to take of his helmet and place on the table as he downed a flagon of ale.

[Exelia]

You'd have gone in if you weren't staring at her ars-

Beer. Beer had been on Artius's mind for the past few hours. His thoughts had been reveling at the thought of hot, crusty breads and soft, ripened cheeses and succulent fruits all with a hearty bowl of hot sausage and mushroom stew with a few stines of warm ale for hours, these thoughts taunting him as a harsh reminder to double check how much food you're bringing on a cross country trek. He looked at this seemingly generous fellow through the exhausted thousand yard stare of a man with much to do and a fraction of a damn to do it with.

The fellow adopted an alien and slightly worrying imitation of a friendly smile. It reminded him of many things, a obnoxiusly cheerful grot for instance, but an old expression kept coming back to him as the gentleman below smiled. Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly. Some deep, animal instinct was triggered, like the way a dogs can smell evil as they say. But by this point, he would've accepted some beer and local pointers from a damned bloodletter.

"Aye, " Artius agreed as a look of cautious worry crept into his face " insofar as you'll quit smiling like that."

He tried to pass it off as a cordial request, but it was more of an order.

"I'll be in after I get my horse stowed away and my stuff moved."

And, he retaliated with his own friendly smile and a gesture of two fingers as he slowly sauntered off towards the stables.

"I'm having two beers, if you wouldn't mind. Don't worry, I can cover for the both of us."

"Sure thing, my friend. Sorry fr the smile - us Hochlanders receive a lot of foreigners from other parts of the Empire, and sometimes our hospitality comes across as quite insincere. I'll make sure to order your drinks."

Brigund walked back into the tavern, allowing the soldier to finish preparing his horse and supplies. He walked up to the bartender to order the drinks.

"Yes, I'd like to order three beers. Two for my friend, and I'll have one myself."

"Comin right up."

It didn't take very long for the beers to be ready, since all they had to be was poured. Brigund took them to a table where they he could be clearly be seen by the soldier once he walked in.

Seeing as how he did not walk in still, Brigund spiked all three drinks with a special drug, that causes hallucinations within 2 hours. Brigund himself was immune to it, after significant usage had nulled him, and a sit was tasteless, he never bothered with it. However, it would be fun to see what would happen to others, and he insured that the solider couldn't claim that Brigund was the one who spiked his drink, as Brigund's own drink was spiked.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"Sure thing, my friend. Sorry fr the smile - us Hochlanders receive a lot of foreigners from other parts of the Empire, and sometimes our hospitality comes across as quite insincere. I'll make sure to order your drinks."

Brigund walked back into the tavern, allowing the soldier to finish preparing his horse and supplies. He walked up to the bartender to order the drinks.

"Yes, I'd like to order three beers. Two for my friend, and I'll have one myself."

"Comin right up."

It didn't take very long for the beers to be ready, since all they had to be was poured. Brigund took them to a table where they he could be clearly be seen by the soldier once he walked in.

Seeing as how he did not walk in still, Brigund spiked all three drinks with a special drug, that causes hallucinations within 2 hours. Brigund himself was immune to it, after significant usage had nulled him, and a sit was tasteless, he never bothered with it. However, it would be fun to see what would happen to others, and he insured that the solider couldn't claim that Brigund was the one who spiked his drink, as Brigund's own drink was spiked.

Artius had returned to the Blind Raven promptly, carrying several large and heavy rucksacks and saddlebags, and more obviously, what seemed to be a small armory. Most apparent was his massive two handed sword, currently slung over his back, the wavy flameberge blade of which was longer than some men were tall. A well decorated Hochland long rifle was carried on his left, just above a battle scarred wide-blade raiper on his hip. An enormous steel kite shield, the size of a large dwarven solider, was suspended over a large leather bag. The sound of clanking steel echoed as he moved, belying the presence of yet more armor in one of the bags.

Artius's gear was extrodinairly heavy for one man, yet even when fatigued he shifted the loads as though he were carrying bags full of feathers rather than tempered steel and thick bound tomes. He quickly spoke with the innkeeper and relocated to his room, upstairs. Artius soon came back down sans armor, comfy blue cloak and straw blonde hair still damp and two handed sword over slung over his back.

He sat across from the generous Hochlander, dropping onto his seat with a relived sigh. Artius took one of the beers and taking a long, deep draught, he asked the native something.

"So, you said something about local peculiarities?"

[Exelia]

Artius had returned to the Blind Raven promptly, carrying several large and heavy rucksacks and saddlebags, and more obviously, what seemed to be a small armory. Most apparent was his massive two handed sword, currently slung over his back, the wavy flameberge blade of which was longer than some men were tall. A well decorated Hochland long rifle was carried on his left, just above a battle scarred wide-blade raiper on his hip. An enormous steel kite shield, the size of a large dwarven solider, was suspended over a large leather bag. The sound of clanking steel echoed as he moved, belying the presence of yet more armor in one of the bags.

Artius's gear was extrodinairly heavy for one man, yet even when fatigued he shifted the loads as though he were carrying bags full of feathers rather than tempered steel and thick bound tomes. He quickly spoke with the innkeeper and relocated to his room, upstairs. Artius soon came back down sans armor, comfy blue cloak and straw blonde hair still damp and two handed sword over slung over his back.

He sat across from the generous Hochlander, dropping onto his seat with a relived sigh. Artius took one of the beers and taking a long, deep draught, he asked the native something.

"So, you said something about local peculiarities?"

"Yes, those peculiarities. Stay around here long enough and you'll hear about them, they're the talk of the town. Some sick freak, or freaks, has been abducting people from the town, as well as passerby, in the nearby forest. Patrolmen, traders, and hunters keep finding the mutilated corpses of their victims."

Brigund took a long drink from his beer.

"Nobody knows who is doing it, and more importantly, nobody knows why. Could be Chaos, could be vampires, could be something else. We certainly haven't expected this kind of barbarity so deep within the Empire. Now, Beastmen, that's something we're used to, but I don't think any Beastman is smart enough to remain undetected for this long. Wherever their hiding, their hiding well."

In order to further dilute the blame when the hallucinations inevitably hit the soldier, Brigund needed to start playing up the affects. A large, strong, stout man would take a while before hallucinations kicked in. Brigund, a smaller, more sleek man would naturally get hit by the affects earlier, so he needed to play that up.

"Oh...I don't feel too well. I don't remember the beer having this affect on me before. Hey, barkeep! Is this your usual serving? No other tavern in town makes me feel this....strange. I don't know, maybe I just don't know how to keep down my liquor!"

[The Blazing Aura]

Old Forest Road, past Garssen
Lanya looked around nervously at the trees as she 'escorted' the pilgrims towards Gruyden. She'd never liked forests, and the comments made to her by the weird man back in Bergsburg didn't help in the slightest. Using her spear like it was a walking stick Lanya continued down the bumpy road, moving towards the front of the small convoy where the mercenary leader, and the man who would pay her her gold at the end, lead the way.
"Can we go any faster?" she asked, eyes flickering towards the tree line as if something was about to burst forth from it in an instant.
The mercenary leader laughed, he was a native Hochlander, carrying as most of his kin did, a rifle as his main weapon. "Normally it's the pilgrims who want to go faster. You scared darky?"
Lanya put up with the nickname, after all she was a lone Arabian in the Empire, her dark skin did make her stand out. "You try living most of your life in a desert, then forests like this would scare you too." she replied, too nervous for the normal banter between mercenaries.
"Don't worry" the mercenary leader said, still laughing at Lanya "I'll protect you at night if you want."
Shaking her head Lanya made her way back to where she was meant to be, hands still gripping her spear, although this time maybe slightly tighter. She REALLY wanted to get out of the forest. Now.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

"Yes, those peculiarities. Stay around here long enough and you'll hear about them, they're the talk of the town. Some sick freak, or freaks, has been abducting people from the town, as well as passerby, in the nearby forest. Patrolmen, traders, and hunters keep finding the mutilated corpses of their victims."

Artius listened intently. This is what he wanted to hear, although he wasn't hearing much more than he already gathered from various Hochlanders in other cities. He made particular note of that word, mutilated, and immediately began to consider who, or what, would be causing this. There were a lot of options, which said more about the state of the Empire than it really should have. But it was somewhere to start. The journey of a thousand miles...

"Nobody knows who is doing it, and more importantly, nobody knows why. Could be Chaos, could be vampires, could be something else. We certainly haven't expected this kind of barbarity so deep within the Empire. Now, Beastmen, that's something we're used to, but I don't think any Beastman is smart enough to remain undetected for this long. Wherever their hiding, their hiding well."

Barbarity. Another clue. Implying humanity of the subject, as if they had thought about the matter. Interesting, but could just be a choice of words, nothing solid. He was beginning to get an idea of what-

"Oh...I don't feel too well. I don't remember the beer having this affect on me before. Hey, barkeep! Is this your usual serving? No other tavern in town makes me feel this....strange. I don't know, maybe I just don't know how to keep down my liquor!"

"Ha! Can't hold down a draught of beer?" he laughed at the idea this man, even being quite lithe of build, couldn't keep a mouthful of beer down. Whether or not his laughter at a seemingly serious matter would be well received was its own matter. But perhaps he had a point. Safe being better than sorry, Artius withdrew what appeared to be a dandelion leaf wrapped around a small tab of something, and swallowed it with visible discomfort. He began coughing, his lungs disapproving of the dusty payload of the leaves, and took another pull of the beer. Just as he set down the flagon, a young barmaid passed by, and he summoned her over.

If the Hochlander wanted to get anything in edgewise as to Artius' dinner plans, he was flat out ignored. A loaf of bread, some cabbages and vinegar, a small wheel of cheese and a piping hot bowl of pork and nettle stew, plenty for the two of them to split and still have a hearty meal. While they waited, Artius still had some questions for the native.

"Aye, those murders are why I've come all the way out here to Bergsburg. They seemed too out of place for somewhere this deep in Imperial territory. I have my ideas on who it could be, but I'd need to see one of the bodies for that to happen. I've fought every enemy of the Empire you can name above the Great Forest, Skaven, vampires, beastmen, Chaos warbands of every mark. Nurglite, Khornate, Slaanes- "

"Where are my manners! " he interrupted himself, speaking jovially " Forgetting to ask such a generous lad what I might call you by. So, you got a name, or do you do that differently here in Hochland too?"

[The Unhallowed City]

Old Forest Road, past Garssen

The Hunter's boot steps sent the small things scattering. That, and the instinctual terror that comes from seeing a being wading through your home whilst painted with the blood of other, apparently lesser predators, and the incessant chattering to herself. Traveling never got easier. Every time she garnered any experience in dealing with the wicked things that clung to the uncivilized places, new ways for them to hunt would take shape. Attempting to remain an alpha among alphas was a constant struggle.

For now, though, the struggle had receded. The Hunter breathed deep beneath their mask and waggled their fingers in discomfort. The nearly blade-like combination of bone and wood in one hand- The knife in the other hand- Both testaments to the soreness that ran through both arms. Tools comprised of the recently (or still) living were easy to come by, but working them to a point came at the cost of stamina and patience.

As the whispering match with herself began to rise in volume, it reached a musical, rapid-fire shift of tones that were remiss of the birds that had not yet been scared away. When they scattered, it faltered and died, withering in the Hunter's throat and allowing the sound of the pilgrims ahead to reach her ears.

Well, I have grown weary of cold meat.

From the perspective of the caravan, it would look as if some of the forest came alive and decided to stumble towards them. Steel dagger in one hand, bone and wood dagger in the other, equally organic mask concealing their visage, and a combination of leather and cloth concealing all other traces of flesh. Fresh and old coats of blood from numerous encounters on the way from home to town turned patches of their clothing varying shades of red and brown.

"I bring food, though uncooked."

In her experience, this generally gave her a 50/50 chance of being welcomed or being turned away. Liberal application of on-hand weaponry and vulgar language were often involved with both the latter.