Warhammer Fantasy: The Old World [IC]

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

The Old World


The Old World is a place filled with magic. From Ulthaun, the Realm of the High Elves, to the Empire, forged in blood by Sigmar. The High Elves are still troubled by their Dark Elf kin, the Dwarfs of the World's Edge Mountains are under constant siege by the vile Skaven and Greenskins, and at the Empire's border, ancient vampires and foul necromancers are gaining more and more power. The fair knights of Brettonia still uphold their alliance with the Wood Elves of Athel Loren, while in the souththe ancient Legions of the Tomb Kings rise from the sands, seeking revenge on those who dare to live, while they are crumbling bodies. And in Kislev, amidst the snow, lie the bodies of thousands of men, along the ruins of burned towns, following the invasion of Asavar Kul, Champion of Chaos, who led the men of the north, Daemons and Beastmen in a war against the entire world. And it is Chaos that may indeed be the biggest danger to the Empire - with Beastmen lurking in the forests, and cults dedicated to the Chaos Gods in every city. Though there are many more threats - Greenskins ravaging the lands, Skaven -who are a total mystery to humanity, a vile secret- emerging from their lairs, and many, many more evil that waits for the right moment to attack, and many uneasy alliances are broken. Once again, the Old World is being engulfed in war...

___________________________________________________________________________________

Ulrich Aesling looked towards the sea and his ships. Like always, the wind blew strong in the north. The sea battered against the ships. Valmir Aesling died fighting the Dwarves, and he was now one of the most powerful Aeslings, though he didn't care about that, really. He lived to kill, and to fulfill his Path to Glory. To reach immortality. To become a Daemon, and to participate in Khorne's Eternal Battle. Ships swarmed the sea, though they sadly were not all to be called his own. Another army had joined him.. A certain Khrugan. Not a follower of Khorne. Not an Aesling. A weakling.
Ulrich could just see the shore from the deck of his ship. They were sailing past Kislev. They were still far from his goal, the vast deserts in the south. Araby was rich, and the undead too, though those had no blood, meaning no true battle. Daemonhood was close though. He could feel it. Very close. His destiny was nearly fulfilled, and the world would once again be engulfed in war...

[The Huskar Social Union]

The Dobryrion, Kislev

Maximilian Konig had been to Kislev before, under the banner of Magnous the Pious, he had fought against the ruinous forces of chaos during the great war, that ended barely a year ago in a resounding but costly victory. Thousands had died on both sides, Kislev lay ravaged by the horror of war, towns and villages had been put to the torch and their occupants victim to all manner of atrocities at the hands of barbarians, cultists... and worse. The he had been a captain and commanded a few hundred men, now he was a general, commanding just under six thousand men. And once again he was in Kislev and under the banner of Magnous the Pious, now his emperor. He had been tasked by the Elector Count of Talabecland to assemble a host from the province and march north to aid in the campaign to eradicate the remaining Chaos war bands and raiders that lurked in the country side. Even with the foul leader dead they persisted in the goals to lay Kislev to waste, but he and the other commanders of the Empire would stop them.

He and his men were in pursuit of a small band of raiders that ran from battle once the larger host that they had been part of was destroyed just west of the city of Kislev, the capital. Caught between his force to the south and Kislivite cavalry to the north and the east they had broken quickly, and were now running across The Dobryrion. The Dobryrion, a vast expanse of plains and hills with no major population at all, near completely infertile and desolate, it would be the resting place of their prey. His column stretched behind him a good distance, squares of infantry, in the red and yellow uniforms of Talabecland flanked by Knights of the Broken Sword Order who had joined him near the border. The artillery came up the rear of the column with a detachment of Halberdiers as a guard against attack. And at the head of the column marched a ragtag band of fanatics and mad men, bruised, battered and wearing nothing but rags and clutching makeshift weapons and whips they were a group of thugs with no cohesion or sense of duty, but at the same time were merciless and ruthless on the field, laying waste to all who stood against them, and their leader inspired confidence he had rarely seen before. Herman Braun, devoted warrior priest of Sigmar led that group into battle and was one of the finest and courageous men he had ever met, never backing down and never tiring in battle.

Snow had begun to fall across the plains ahead of them, but it would not matter, his outriders had found their prey and reported back. They had lagged behind and were trying to hold up in a small run down farm stead to take shelter from the elements, and as they sat, broken, starving and praying to their foul gods for deliverance he would encircle them and crush them in the name of the Empire.

[Prusseusss]

Khurgas, daemon prince of Tzneetch, looked at the fleet around him. Several of these ships were his, all of them holding his men and supplies. Flexing his wings, he looked at the ship ahead of him. It was originally light brown, but it is now blood red. Its captain was a worshiper of khorne, a brute. He desperately wanted to free the fool of his sanity, but he had his uses in the great game for now. Changing his daemon sword into its staff form, he slammed it on the deck. Almost immediately, a large portal of chaotic energy opened up. Walking through it, he ended up on the aeslings ship, right beside him.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Ulrich didn't even look at the scoin of Tzeentch when he appeared next to him. A Daemon Prince. A magic user. Thus, a coward. Perhaps killing him would bring him great glory, but for now, he had his use. Finally, he looked to his side. Like any Daemon Prince, Khurgas was big, though he didn't look that mighty to Ulrich, considering he was a magic user. A real warrior wouldn't need to use magic.
'What is it that you do here, then?'

[Prusseusss]

Ulrich didn't even look at the scoin of Tzeentch when he appeared next to him. A Daemon Prince. A magic user. Thus, a coward. Perhaps killing him would bring him great glory, but for now, he had his use. Finally, he looked to his side. Like any Daemon Prince, Khurgas was big, though he didn't look that mighty to Ulrich, considering he was a magic user. A real warrior wouldn't need to use magic.
'What is it that you do here, then?'

Khurgas spoke in the northern tounge, and said " There is a town not far off. Are you willing to join me and my warhost in the raid ? " Far above the fleets, Khurgas's four headed chaos dragon flew. It was a large beast, one that Khurgas had raised from a hatchling.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

'Only if you land first. I have learned to not trust... your kind. No traps, or you won't be in this realm for much longer.'
He looked to the coast.
'How far off is it? If it is too far away you can go on your own. I have a bigger task to fulfill. The far south is rich, and they make up a good an honourable fight, unlike others.'

[Prusseusss]

'Only if you land first. I have learned to not trust... your kind. No traps, or you won't be in this realm for much longer.'
He looked to the coast.
'How far off is it? If it is too far away you can go on your own. I have a bigger task to fulfill. The far south is rich, and they make up a good an honourable fight, unlike others.'

" A few minutes from the coast at the most." said Khurgas, seeing the coast approach faster and faster. After a moment, he said " They most likely have at least a single priest, as well as a good size milita. Do you want the cultists of the blood god in the town ? " He asked this because he needed to divide the cultists up, mainly for arrow fodder.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

'All shall die.'
He made a single move with his hand, and a marauder began drumming. The signal was repeated across the fleet, ships started moving towards the coast, and Warriors began arming themselves, preparing for battle, and Glorious bloodshed. Soon, the entire fleet began moving towards the coast, and the pitifull village that lay on it, it's people just begging to be slaughtered, southern weaklings that they were.

[Prusseusss]

Khurgas nodded, and shot a ball of chaotic energy into the air. After a moment, his dragon roared and his fleet increased its speed. After a few more minutes, it made the shore, and thousands of warriors, along with beastmen, marauders, and dragon ogres stormed the coast. They all headed towards the town, while Khurgas flew above upon his dragon.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Hundreds upon thousands of Khornate warriors leaped from their ships, and sped towards the town, weapons drawn, uttering warcries, and praising the Blood God, all eager for battle. They were reckless in their pursuit of violence; it had been too long since they had a real fight, and they wanted one. Now.

[Prusseusss]

Soon, the mass of warriors met the town. They took the town by surprise, bloodshed happening quickly. Two warrior priests started engaging the mass, while Khurgas joined the fray, his dragon fighting with him. The dragon let a burst of eldritch energy out, and mutated several townsmen, making them attack their fellows.

[The Huskar Social Union]

The Dobryrion, Kislev

A few hours later the column had arrived at their target. The farm stead was surrounded on all sides by hills, giving the Talabecland Troops an advantage terrain wise. Konig observed the stead itself, two small hovels made out of stones and rocks and a collapsed barn directly across from them, around the barn there was evidence of wooden fences, the only reminder of the farming fields that surrounded the stead. Snow had fallen and the grass and soil was near completely covered, as were the hovels. He called forth one of his captains, a man by the name of Franz who was in charge of one of the swordsmen formations.

"Captain, take your men and move down to the stead, set your selves up around the hovels and draw the enemy out, then engage them from the flanks. Take some of the gunners from Mikhail's unit as support"
"Yes my lord, as you command" The captain headed down the hill Konig and his body guards had positioned themselves on to gather his men. The bulk of his force was behind but he had positions his outriders and some of his hand gunner troops around the other hills encase some of the enemy attempted to flee the battle, but he had instructed them to do so quietly so the enemy was not alerted. They had seen no signs of movement when they arrived but the outrider scouts left behind had informed him that the chaos raiders had taken up residence in the hovels in the center to avoid the snow and wind.

After a few moments the captain and his men moved down the hill towards the farm, they moved at a quick pace, the moved around the hovels and set themselves up in formations flanking the entrance ways. After a few moments the captain took out his horn and notified the raiders of their presence. They charged out in a ramshackle cohesion and were caught off guard by the Empire soldiers. The first dozen were gunned down by the hand gunners in an instant and as the rest stumbled out they were met by the cold steel of Empire blades at the hands of the swordsmen. After a brief but bloody struggle the enemy had been dispatched. Most were cut down quickly as they were understrength due to lack of sleep and food, a few of the more able attempted to run from the engagement or made a stand amidst the open ground. Both did not last long. After the battle had ended Franz reported back to Maximilian.

"All of the chaos warriors are dead my lord" The captain spoke as he cleaned his sword of blood. "They barely put up a fight but we did take some casualties, we lost five men to their swords, and another six wounded, but not too severe. The enemy force was also smaller than we believe sir. There was a total of fifty one, including bodies that were found in and around the hovels that had appeared to die due to severe fatigue and freezing. Some either died along the way or split off, and if they did i doubt they will last much longer"
"Very good captain, see to your men, we will be moving out soon, i do not wish for us to be bogged down here for too long, and deal with this place as well, it has been... tainted."
"Yes my lord"

After a few moments the force had reassembled and had begun to move out, the five swordsmen who had died were buried upon one of the hills and the corpses of the enemy were tossed into a pile in the remains of the barn along with their weapons and equipment and burned, and the hovels were cast down, they would leave no remnant of the enemy's presence here bar their defeat and damnation. They would journey further across the Dobryrion, but this time they would head to the south west in order to avoid the more severe snow falls, before heading north to the river Lynsk and the towns that lay near.

[Tetryx]

Tairos City-state:

Raven held her chin up with confidence as she surveyed a small town guarded by minions of chaos and massive walls, walls that seemed to large for a town that hosted only her army these walls were enhanced by magic. Right now her two brothers, Rai and Bane, were in the form of vampires like herself but because they weren't completely unsealed they were no where near as powerful as her. She had a hood over her head, a white hood attached to a beautiful, white, silk cloak that looked like those of Rai and Bane who were currently both on her left and right. Underneath that hood she had fangs, pale skin and crimson red eyes, underneath her sleeves she had claws and beautiful, soft skin that was pale as well. "With me." Raven said as she turned around, her silk cloak swooshing slightly as she did so. She motioned to two young male vampires that were in the shadows and they flanked her as she teleported herself and the twins while leaving her twin brothers here to watch the city.

Near the Empire's border

They appeared in a torn city that was littered with bodies of men, women and children and even some animals and a large variety of races. "Rise." Raven said as she began hovering into the air, palms out and head up. Her cloak had fallen off to reveal a girl with an open mouth and hundreds upon hundreds of insects coming out of it and going to the dead bodies which were now rising. "Rise in the name of undivided chaos!" Was the screech that echoed throughout the whole area. "Rise, rise, rise!" She was still hovering in the air, eyes glowing black until she fell back to the ground and panted slightly as she looked at the now moving bodies. "Rebuild your broken city."

[Nyte]

A few miles southeast of Wizna
Near the Dobryrion

Friedrich Kruger laughed as he killed another marauder with his two handed hammer. The meaty thwack the hammer made upon meeting flesh, and the resulting destruction it caused was one of the few things that he still enjoyed in his accursed life. Stepping over his most recent victim, he moved swiftly towards the four surviving marauders who somehow managed to maintain what little courage they had left after watching a dozen of their "friends" get cut down in a storm of violence and gore.

The four marauders attacked with a flurry of bladed weapons that likely would have dealt with any other one person. However, to Friedrich the marauders seemed to move in slow motion and their attacks were easily dodged as he went to work with his hammer once more. The first marauder took a hammer blow to the chest that pulverized bones and internal organs. The second marauder attempted to stab Friedrich in the side with a long, filth encrusted knife only for the still laughing vampire to catch his arm in a vice grip and snap it with a twist. The marauder opened his mouth to scream but was met with a hammerhead to the face that caved in most of his head in a welter of blood, bone, and brain matter. Dropping what was left of marauder two, Friedrich ducked under a wild swing from the third marauder and brought his hammer up in a vertical blow that caved in the third marauders pelvis and left him moaning and dying on the ground in a pool of his own blood and waste.

Met with this fresh wave of violence, the last marauder finally lost his nerve and fled in terror into the surrounding woods. Friedrich quickly gave chase; still laughing insanely as he watched the crazed mortal stumble about blindly in the dark. Deciding to make a game of the chase Friedrich persued the now thoroughly terrified marauder through the woods in a slowly shrinking circle until with a loud thump, the marauder collided face first with a tree and knocked himself out...

"Wake up."

Slap...

"I said wake up."

Slap...

The marauder jerked awake with a scream, and attempted to crawl away from the fang filled mouth barely an inch from his face. However, Friedrich had expected just such a thing and had taken precautions against it. Using several knives, Friedrich had nailed the marauders wrists and feet to a pair of fairly large trees and left him dangling about a foot from the ground.

Slap...

"Now that I have your attention" Friedrich rasped with a voice that was clearly suffering from a lack of use. "You and your little friends ruined my favorite outfit" Friedrich continued pointing vaguely at his gore stained clothes. "Seriously, this shit isn't going to come out no matter what I do to it."

Pulling out another knife, Friedrich continued "As such, I think it's only fair that you give me a replacement... Of course marauder hide isn't exactly in fashion buuuut, beggars can't be choosers and all that."

With that Friedrich got to work with the knife...

[Epraria]

In the tunnels of the skaven.

Adorg Tokash was now watching over his assembling horde of skaven rats. In total his army numbered 40,000 rats and would be a fearsome force for anyone who meet them. He didn't care that he would lose men in the thousands he wanted glory to himself and his clan. He would become a target of assassins of course but that wouldn't stoop him from gaining the favor of the moulder clan.

He was not going to disappoint them with a failure. He was suspecting this was a way for them to get ride of him and to achieve their goals though and that was a thought that bugged him. He would need a guard at all times to protect him. He would also try to keep his rats loyal to him only. A task that would be almost impossible to achieve due to the skaven nature. All while his plan was to commence and hopefully succeed to prove him right.

From his position he could also see 1 of the mighty abominations. Those creatures where fearsome and tough monsters and would prove to be a good part of his force he thought. He needed those types of heavy hitters when he otherwise had to rely on cheer numbers to win a battle against the manthings up above ground.

The plan was about to start.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

Ulrich roared, his chosen standing next to him, taking part in the bloodshed.
'Blood for the Blood God!'
Several men died.
'Skulls for the Skull throne!'
Blood and fire was everywhere. Men fighting, trying to protect their homes. Honourable men all. That was good, a more glorious battle, and honourable opponents pleased the Blood God more then slaughtering cowards. It was then that he saw someone run. A coward. If there was one thing Ulrich couldn't stand, it were cowards. A women and two children. Pathetic. He grabbed his axe. Kill for the sake of killing. He threw it. The crude metal plunged through the woman, leaving her children standing in shock. He roared, and started looking for a real opponent, though he wondered if those existed in this place. He didn't think so, but it was worth the try. Kill. More soldiers died. Not his, but those of the town. Weaklings all. Southeners. This was hardly worth doing. A poor town, with no worthy opponent? He was wasting his time. That had to be the plan of the Daemon. Damned pawns of Tzeentch.
'Let's get this over with! Kill them all! NOW!'
With renewed enthusiasm, the slaughtered continued.

[Gideus]

All appeared still, yet all was not still. Such was life in Lustria.

In the depths of Lustria, a mighty Thunder Lizard stirred. Such creatures rarely moved, even to eat. Such was the speed of their metabolism; they rarely had reason to eat. One year one of these creatures had destroyed a Temple City simply because it was in the way - not a malicious act; not a purposeful act. In the years after, such a beast would go on to trample many of the furred invaders, the Skaven, and to collapse over half of their tunnels.

Such was life in Lustria.

The Terradons and the Ripperdactyles swooped through the treetops, preying upon the arboreal creatures there. A few Skinks set out to catch such creatures. Such was their directive; such was their purpose in war. The undisputed masters of the steamy jungle skies, the Skink riders were lords of the air - only surpassed by such individuals such as the Slann whom devoted themselves to the sky and the Skink Priests assisting them.

Such was life in Lustria.

Lord Mazdamundi, such a powerful spellweaver that he could shift continents and cause volcanoes to erupt at a mere thought stirred in his slumber. Such was today that he had a job to do. Gazing along the magnificent treasures which bore the words of the Old Ones, he reached out with his mind towards the Slann in the Southlands. Such was a minor feat for one such as himself; such was a required task.

Such was life in Lustria.

As the word came out, the host that would follow Tek'tik, known as the Diviner of War, to that which he divined. Such was the focus of no less than three of the greatest magical minds upon this planet. Such was their power that creatures native to Lustria were simply transported to the Temple City in the Southlands. Such was their power that the host was assembled in less than a fortnight.

Such was life in the Southlands.



Tek'tik gazed across the yellowed plateau. Once a land of great wealth, this place - Khemri - was now haunted by the rattling of bones. Protected by holy magics and powerful artifacts, his Host had not encountered any sizable force of the once-mighty men known as the Tomb Kings of Nehekara. The Engines of the Gods constantly being empowered, any semblance of hostile creature was burnt away to dust on the wind. While small compared to the armies of the lesser races within the Old World, as they dubbed it, the land across the World Pond, the Host of Tek'tik was a powerful force, more than capable of wiping out one of its size while suffering little damage itself.

Great beasts of war trudged across the plains. Protected by magics unheard of within the empires of man, they would care not for the searing heat of Khemri or the moist chill of the Empire. Standing proud atop their mounts, the various leaders of the Host ensured that a strict regimental level of discipline was maintained. None would expect it of such a bestial and barbaric looking army, but they were in fact warriors of the strictest Order and their movement showed this.

Barking out orders, Tek'tik quickly called his host to a halt. They divided up the water they were to drink at this time. They lost very little water in this heat for they were used to it; regardless, they had marched for days. His assigned guards - a rarity, for they were Temple Guards - maintained order around him. They did not drink when the others did; if they did, his safety would be lesser. Halberds held high, their armor and scales of the utmost quality, they were some of - if not the most - disciplined and deadly elite troops in the world. As their fellow Saurus finished, they drank their water rations quickly, not wasting any time. The Host resumed its march towards the north. Their exact purpose only known amongst the council of fourteen Skink Priests, including Tek'tik, they were to reach the southernmost human kingdoms and empires within eleven days.

Any delays, however... Delays would be met with extreme prejudice.

Such is life as a Lizardman.

[The Huskar Social Union]

The Dobryrion, Kislev

The column marched across the western plains of the Dobryrion, now clear of the snow fall and the grass was no longer buried under a sea of frost and snow. Banners bearing the crowned red eagle of Talabecland upon a red and yellow field flew high in the air above rows of pole arms and armoured soldiers. Konig rode at the head of the column with his body guards, a contingent of great swords from the city of Talabheim and the knights of the Broken Sword. They had managed to avoid the snow further north and were closer to the borders of their homeland, the Empire, from here they would head to the north west towards the river lynsk and to the city of Erengard. They had also passed by several other contingents of Empire forces and a few Kislevite horse archers and lancer units. The few words he had wit the passing commanders showed clear evidence of the success of the campaigns forces in this area, several other remnant war bands had been chased down and destroyed in the Dobryrion, numbering several hundred additional casualties for the enemy, slowly they were bleeding them dry.

[Legital]

Kislev
In the Dobryrion area

Quiet voices carried on the wind as the rough column of Blackheart Ravans traveled on the cold dirt road as a light snow began to fall. For the past week, the Blackheart Ravens had traveled from lower Ostermark up into Kislev, stopping every so often at towns along the way to rest and resupply. On more than one occasion, they were asked to settle issues in regards to possible chaotic taint or to root out vampires and necromancers. And many times, their investigations came up positive. They had slain handfulls of vampires and necromancers on their travel north, along with countless cultists.

News was, they would be encountering more cultists and chaos warbands as they drove north into Kislev. They knew not at what extent and number they would be meeting these forces with, however, they would perform Morr's righteous duty regardless.
At the front of the strong column, Grand Master Grigori Blackheart Hessen sat on top of his pale white horse, which was lightly armored in steel, similar to that of his own armor. Beside him, his retinue kept close. Two unarmored sorcerers rode beside each other, clad in dark black robes which hooded their faces. Each knight owned a set of black robes, however the sorcerers wore them constantly. Armor interfered with their casting ability. But even without armor, the sorcerers were able to defend themselves from afar and near with countless magical spells.

Behind the two sorcerers was a somewhat short figure, bearing the colors of the Order of the Blackheart Ravens, along with a flag representing the Empire. The armored figure bearing the flags and pennants was young man, barely shaving yet. He had lost his parents to cultists, and he sought refugee with the Order. He was welcomed into the brotherhood of death with open arms, and he was made at home along with fellow Morr devotees, who would be his new family. The flag held by the figure , the one of the Order, consisted of a black raven, shrouding a bleeding heart with both of it's wings in a protective stance on a white background. As the wind picked up, the colors fluttered in the wind.

"It is an ill omen, I say." A figure beside the Grand Master said, his face not concealed by a helmet, which sat on his lap. His face was gruff, having seen a lifetime of hard work and fighting. He was fully bearded as well, and his long brown mane of hair matched his wild look. He was Gregori's compatriot and long time friend, working aside him as second of the Order. His name was Orlav Yulveck. A veteran of the Ostermark state army long ago, Orlav fought alongside Dwarves against the Ork hordes way down south for many years. It was when he returned home to find his village burned down and his wife and child missing, that he took up with the Blackheart Ravens. That was a very longtime ago, a time before many of the current Blackheart Ravens were even knights.

"Indeed." Grigori said after a moment, gazing around the forest they were passing through. "Voices of the long dead calling for help. It is a sad thing to witness." He continued, just as more moans and cries carried on the next gust of wind. "These lands are stained with blood. Many souls are upon Morrs shadowrealm, but there are those that are still trapped here. We shall free those souls, and enact rightful vengeance against any defilers we come across." The grand master said, and Orlav nodded his head. "Aye, that we will. I've heard that there are many state hosts here, fighting the chaotic warbands. It'll be good to lend them a hand." He answered back, receiving a nod from Grigori in turn.

The column continued through the forest.

[Nyte]

A few miles southeast of Wizna
Near the Dobryrion

Several hours later Friedrich was finally approaching the village of Wizna which was just barely visible in the distance through the woods. Having worked up a slight thirst due to his earlier fun, Friedrich increased the pace of his black charger; eager for a long drink and perhaps a bit of rest before continuing on northward towards the River Lynsk which he intended to follow all the way to the blasted city of Praag to the north-east.

Unfortunately for Friedrich, that's when the screaming began...

With a curse, Friedrich increased his pace even more and readied his hammer with a quick, mumbled prayer to Sigmar. Minutes later, Friedrich broke from the cover of the woods and charged into the now burning village of Wizna. With a hate filled roar Friedrich drove his charger into a pack of small, goat-like creatures that had been butchering several women and children in the street. Upon seeing Friedrich, the creatures bleated in terror and turned to flee; unfortunately for the beastmen it was far to late for fleeing, and Friedrich was among them launching vicious swings with his hammer as his charger reared up and caved one of the creatures heads in with it's iron-shod hooves. The three remaining beastmen died swiftly to hammer blows that pulverized their warped skulls with an unnatural ease.

Seeing several more beastmen fleeing towards the center of the village, Friedrich gave chase to the cowardly animals and managed to catch up just as they reached the center of the village.

"Die filth, die!" He rasped out as he once more went to work with his hammer. The first beastman was hit with such a devastating blow that it was actually catapulted several feet through the air with a spray of blood and gore that left it splattered, and nearly in pieces on the ground. The second beastman took the return stroke to the side of its head, snapping its neck and sending several teeth flying in an arc dozens of feet through the air. The third beastman attempted to club Friedrich while he was still busy dealing with the first two. Unfortunately for the beastman, Friedrich's charger had seen him coming and lashed out at the beastman with a strangely murderous glint in its eyes. The blow sent the beastman reeling directly into a sweeping blow from Friedrich's hammer that took it in the chest.

Looking for more targets, Friedrich saw at least three or four dozen more of the creatures charging in at him from several directions. Knowing that even with his vampiric strength and reflexes he wouldn't be able to kill all of these beastmen, Friedrich began to look for a way clear of this potential deathtrap... With a frown, friedrich noticed about a dozen dead villagers strewn about the center of the village. His frown growing even deeper, Friedrich exerted his will, and with a quick, mumbled incantation the dead villagers began to slowly get to their feet and shamble slowly towards the charging beastmen. Hoping that the zombies would prove to slow down the charging hoard of beastmen for at least a few moments, Friedrich turned his charger about and fled what was left of the village of Wizna as it burned around him, the sound of a charging hoard of beastmen baying for his blood in his ears.

Fleeing south along the road, Friedrich's escape was slowed even further by small groups of beastmen that charged in from the surrounding woods. Ignoring as many of these as possible, Friedrich relied on his chargers speed to simply go around as many of these groups as he could, only slowing down to engage them when there was no other choice. These slain beastmen would then be brought back as zombies to further delay the mob of baying, roaring monsters that was charging down the road and gaining ground by the minute.

Pushing for the last bit of speed from his now exhausted and wounded charger, Friedrich began to look for a spot to make what may just become his last stand. Ahead, a small rise in the road seemed to be a fitting place and upon reaching the top, Friedrich dismounted and turned to face his persuers with all the fury of a cornered animal. Roaring out a prayer to Sigmar, Friedrich met the first of the hoard head on...

[Legital]

Kislev, Dobryrion
A few miles southeast of Wizna
Blackheart Raven column

The roars and cries of beastmen were heard faintly at first from afar, and as the column of knights continued down the road, the roars became more defined. Gregori glanced at Orlav, one of his most trusted compatriots, and the bearded man nodded. Orlav grabbed his helmet from his lap, and placed it securely over his head, leaving a small visor slit to see through. He pulled up the armored cowl over his mouth and the back of his neck, and looked back at the Grand Master.

Gregori lifted his warhammer into the air, and spun his horse around to view the column of silver armored knights, all dressed the same in the Order's armor. The only thing that singled knights out were their weapons. Many had longswords, though there were plenty of warhammers and maces, along with crossbows. Every knight had a single thin lance, capable of piercing an armored breastplate at full gallop, though became useless after that or when dismounted.

"My fellow brothers." Gregori declared, his voice powerful yet solemn sounding. "Beastmen stalk these woods as we speak. We ride with Morr as we ride into battle. Weapons at the ready, and maintain vigilance. There may be fellow Imperials in harms way up ahead. Ride with me, brothers of Morr!" The Grand Master shouted, causing a throaty cheer to erupt from the knights. Spinning his horse around, Gregori, and the knights behind him, quickened their horses into a gallop as they raced towards a large rise in the road up ahead....

Gregori saw the figure on top of the hill first, and adjusted his horse to pass by him without hitting him. "We fight for Morr!" Gregori shouted as he parted from the middle of the road, as did the next knight, and the next, forming a split in the column as they came over the hill into the decent sized beastmen horde that was previously baring down onto the single figure with the warhammer, who had already engaged in combat.

The beastmen roared out and cried at the sight of the knights, some pushing forth to engage, weaker ones retreating into the woods or back towards the town. Yet as more knights came over the hill, many more began to turn away. Yet the ones who engaged were quickly killed, and the ones retreating were being run down by the armored knights.

Gregori circled his horse around towards the lone figure on the hill, swinging down and cracking a beastmen in the head, crushing his skull. Five more roared an incomprehensible challenge and charged him, and finding himself surrounded, he dismounted to provide himself with better mobility. The first beastman was met with a slam to the side by his warhammer, and the one behind it was slammed in the chest by the pointed stud on the top of the warhammer. A crude club crashed into his rear shoulder, clanging off his armor and Gregori growled as he swung about, cracking the beastman in the face with his armored gauntlet. The creature fell to the ground with a cry, and raising the warhammer above his head, he slammed it down.

A smaller beastman saw this, and turn to ran. Yet, the creature stumbled and tried desperately to get up as the tall armored figure stepped towards it and cracked his warhammer down on the beastmans back, breaking its spine.

More knights galloped down the road, riding down the now retreating horde. Gregori had lost sight of Orlav, though the man had more than likely led the charge, and had ended up at the village that was way off yonder down the road. The Grand Master turned towards the figure on the road, noticing the Orders two black robed and hooded sorcerers circling the figure on their pale white horses. Their faces were obscured, but one of them looked up and stared at Gregori, making a slight motion at the figure with his hand.

This motion Gregori knew well, one he had seen his sorcerers or other Knights make when they wished to quietly (though in this case it was obvious for the figure as he would see the motions) signify that they had found an abuser of Morr, namely a vampire of necromancer.

Gregori waved his hands at his sorcerers, who pulled away to the side of the road as he approached the unknown vampire.

"State your name and business, man." Gregori said with spite. "Tell me the name of the abuser of Morr I shall slay."

[The Huskar Social Union]

Edge of The Dobryrion, Kislev

His men had made good progress over the last few weeks, they had destroyed several enemy forces and ensured the safety of many small villages and farms, and now they were pressed to march north and secure the towns and villages along the Lynsk river as part of the campaign. But his men had grown tired and he decided not to tax them too much, for tired soldiers made poor soldiers and that would him, nor the empire much good. They had made base camp atop a hill near the town of Brzesc, just at the edge of the Dobryrion. This sprawling city of tents and banners would remain here for two days before its occupants continued north to further the empires goals.

When Konig and his force had arrived they were greeted by the townsfolk and given some additional supplies as a gift which was appreciated, but this gift also came with ill news. A pair of farmers had arrived early the same day and brought with them a tale of despair. A large force of beast men, one of the more dangerous and ruthless variations of the worshipers of chaos had been moving through the forest towards their home village of Wizna. Knowing full well what horrors these foul beast men could unleash upon innocent folk, he had dispatched captain Reinhardt and his outriders to pursue them and destroy them before they could lay waste to the village. But when the outriders arrived, they found the village engulfed with fire and smoke, and the murderous howls of the enemy.

---

Just north of the town of Wizna

Reinhardt looked upon the town with despair and hatred, the foe they had been sent after had managed to elude them and had already arrived at the village of Wizna to loot and slaughter. The village lay before him and his men, engulfed in smoke, burning to the ground as the monstrous hordes charged through its streets, killing all who stood in their way. This could not stand. He rallied his second in command to his side.

"Franz, take thirty men and move into the eastern side of the village, Sankt, take another 30 and take the western side, i will lead the rest down the center, push them into the center of the village and surround them, then we will drive them into the dirt like the monsters they are"
"Yes sir" The two replied and galloped off with their men down the slopes of the hill, he checked his gun one final time and moved forward with his men right behind him. Bellowing war cries they charged towards the village and could already see the first of their enemies along the roads leading inwards. He saw a gor, one of the larger forms of beast men charging after a fleeing militia soldier and sent a shot from his pistol right through its skull as he galloped past. He let out one final war cray as he rode into the streets with this men "For Taal, for Sigmar, and for the Empire!"

[Gideus]

Northern Khemri
Near the Marshes of Madness

They had marched for two days with no rest, seeing only the scars of ancient battles and the weathered bones of those fools who had attempted to make forays into the Lands of the Dead. Now, at a place where the wind was cool yet smelled of rot, they rested. Wards were cast, and they sent the Terradon riders on forays to the rivers to bring back massive casks of water. At a pace that no human army could maintain they had reached this place, but even their nearly limitless endurance and willpower had a place at which it must regenerate. Establishing a base camp built from the few pieces of easily transportable structures they had taken with them and from the howdahs on the backs of the mighty Stegadons, they would rest for an eight-hour period.

As the hours passed, sounds that would drive almost any mortal being - man, dwarf, or elf - to madness echoed across the desolate plains with the cooling winds from the north. Only their magical wards and minds hardened to the powers of Chaos and darkness kept these terrible powers from effecting them. However, all was not kept at bay by such things. For within the depths of the Marshes, man-beasts warped by the foul influence of the Great Enemy of Order resided. They had the scent of the Host of Tek'tik, and not knowing what the Host was - simply knowing it wasn't men-with-gunpowder or bones-that-walk, they marched.

Three Hours Later...

The Terradons had returned with their precious cargo. Enough water to slake the army's thirst for at least a week, they began partaking in both water and food. Nothing had happened - but then the howls were heard from the north. Tek'tik and his council of Priests looked up sharply. The army was roused. Coming to arms at less than a moment's notice, the Temple Guard assigned to him readied their polearms.

"Krik'tiik, tell your chiefs - take their skirmishers north. Find what this is, engage it at range. I'll see to it that the main force is ready to receive our guests."

The other Priest nodded his confirmation, running off into the crowd of Lizardmen. Saurus Warriors moved massive loads, putting the howdahs back on the Stegadons and stowing the transported structures. The Terradons and Ripperdactyles were roused, their bestial minds being stoked with the fires of the hunt.

Only half an hour later, the sounds of battle came back to the camp. The cries of dying beasts met their ears. The blowpipes of the Skink Skirmishers were deadly. Nothing to look at, their deadly payloads were exceedingly painful. Not one Skink would be touched as they fell back, shooting their blowpipes the entire time. And then the riders came.

Great flying beasts, those poor misbegotten children of Chaos stood no chance. Creatures they had never even thought existed swooped through their ranks, grabbing them and dropping them, depositing stones on them, and peppering them with both cuts and poisonous darts. By the time they reached the main Lizardmen force, baited the entire way, they were reduced to a mere three hundred. Enraged by now, they charged the ranks - only to be met by beasts even more ferocious than themselves.

The Carnosaurs marched. Their riders swinging their mighty axes and blades through the corrupted flesh of these "Beastmen," the Carnosaurs walked through the crowds. Their tails swung, their claws flensed, and their teeth gnashed. Not one stood before them. Not one had harmed a single Lizardman. Not one had posed the merest threat.

Moving on, the Host of Tek'tik simply advanced north at breakneck speed. This was not the time to dally around. The night on which the two moons would both be at their fullest approached fast; on this night they needed to be on the front in the north to prevent anything the minions of the Archenemy wished to do.

As the men of the Empire called it, Hexensnacht, was approaching fast. It would be a night of great danger, and a night of resurgence for the forces of Chaos.

It was, of course, their duty to stop this resurgence.

[Nyte]

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

Friedrich punted a snarling beastman into the path of the oncoming hoard while evading a blow from a second. His evasion took him right at another beastman that attempted a wild swing that skittered off of Friedrich’s armor. Snarling, Friedrich crushed the beastman’s chest with a blow from his gore-stained hammer and whipped around; using his body as a fulcrum, Friedrich slammed his hammer into the second beastman with enough force to launch the beast back down the hill as a mutilated mess.

In the distance, the sound of charging horses grew closer from the back side of the hill but Friedrich was too busy to turn about and see if the approaching riders were friend, or foe. Bracing himself in the middle of the road, Friedrich prepared to meet the approaching tide.

The first wave of beastmen were met by swift, brutal strikes of Friedrich’s hammer which sent them reeling about. Using their stunned or dying bodies as cover, Friedrich advanced a few steps forwards all while dancing around blows from his enemies and quickly dropped several more of the beastmen just as a large column of mounted knights came charging up over the hill and tore into the beasts.

As the knights made swift work of the remaining beastmen, Friedrich simply observed the scene; splitting his attention between the knights as they rode down the now fleeing beasts, and a pair of robed figures on pale white horses that had begun to circle around him. Friedrich recognized the robed figures as sorcerers of Morr, the god of death. Leaning casually on his warhammer, Friedrich simply waited; he would let them make the first move, and if they proved to be hostile he would deal with them accordingly.

Noticing one of the sorcerers make a hand signal at an approaching knight, Friedrich quickly turned his focus to the knight who motioned the sorcerers aside with a wave of his hand. So, this would be their leader then Friedrich thought. This should be interesting.

"State your name and business, man." The knight said with spite. "Tell me the name of the abuser of Morr I shall slay."

“Abuse…” Friedrich growled. “You know nothing of abuse mortal” Friedrich rasped. “You know nothing of what it is like to go to bed one night as a man, and wake up the next day as a monster… A monster like those that you’d spent your whole life fighting… And all for some twisted she-bitch’s idea of revenge after I destroyed her coven in Nuln. You know nothing of the ten years of torture I suffered at that she-bitch’s hands; or the decades of misery, distrust, and hatred that followed. Of course, you probably weren’t even a gleam in your father’s eye back then… Assuming he was even alive at the time.”

Friedrich adjusted his grip on his hammer; his former, casual pose swiftly changed into a far more combative, and ready stance as he continued. “As for whom I am… My name is Friedrich Kruger, former Warrior Priest of the cult of Sigmar, and un-willing vampire.”

Friedrich’s eyes narrowed as he continued. “And as for you ‘slaying’ me” Friedrich laughed; although there was little to no real humour in it. “Both men and beasts far more deadly than you have tried, and sadly, failed at such a task. Of course, if you truly think you are able, I will happily oblige you. Who knows” Friedrich chuckled darkly. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and put me out of my misery…”

With the last line, Friedrich extended his left hand and with a ‘come hither’ gesture directed at the knight, he waited…

[The Huskar Social Union]

Wizna, edge of the Dobryrion, Kislev

Reinhardt's outriders worked their way through the streets of the burning village, gunning and cutting down the foul beast men as they attempted to flee from this sudden surprise attack on their flanks. A few brave, or more bloody thirsty of the foul creatures dared to make a stand against the Empire's soldiers, but were either eviscerated by a sustained barrage of shots from the mounted soldiers or were trampled underneath the hooves of their steeds. Reinhardt rounded a street corner past a smithy consumed by flames, its occupants lay dead on the ground, butchered with out a fight. He and his column arrived at the center of the village, a large open space with several streets branching off into different parts of the village. This center was full of violence and carnage, the largest concentration of the enemy was here, massacring what remained of the villagers. Fueled with blood lust and the desire to kill they had not paid attention to their kind who were retreating into the square, or the columns of riders chasing after them. Reinhardt's men fanned out from the streets they had entered from, three large columns spread out and encircled the host in the open. They fired their guns at the host while riding at full speed, their shots tore into the servants of chaos, killing or maiming them, leaving them vulnerable to further attack.

"Dont let them move for a second, tear them apart in the emperors name!" Reinhardt called out as he shot another of the beasts in the torso, they would end this here and bring justice to the fallen. As he prepared to take aim and fire at another of the beasts he heard a war horn sounding out across the air, piercing through the commotion and chaos that ensued all around him. The horn sounded again, louder and closer but this time it was accompanied by a chorus of war cries and shouts. He stopped his horse and turned round to look in the direction of this new commotion.

Charging down the Street directly at him was a fearsome column of heavily armoured and armed Knights, banners bearing the sigil of the Empire and that of a Black Raven upon a bleeding heart flew high in the air in the midst of the column. They rode down a handful of beast men that had been running before them and charged past Reinhardt and his men, and straight into the mass of the beast men horde. Too worried about trying to keep their composure against the outriders they were not prepared to take on the armoured mailed fist of the Knights, no suitable formations were in order to meet this new force and they were decimated as the knights broke straight into their ranks and began to slaughter them by the dozen. Reinhardt caught a glimpse of one of the Knights as he rode past, he could tell now from their banner and that of the sigils upon their armour that these knights were members of one of the orders dedicated to the service of Morr, the god of death.