In Warhammer Fantasy as my ERP Character
Author: Valarion
123
Back in Middenheim. Chill is in the air in the morning after the winter solstice and even two days after many are still cleaning up the remnants of the festivities. The people however are already jumpy from the sudden earthquake and the terrible roar that followed yesterday. Many are already taking it as a bad omen or that a dragon has awoken in the middle mountains. The latter is quickly shut down as the middle mountains are east of Middenheim while the roar came from the west. Though it did lighten the mood a little as the crowd made fun of the half drunk gossip at one of the local tavern last night.
Though all anxiety and anticipation returns in full as the morning crowd sees a scout riding a frothing horse gallops directly into the direction of the Middenpalaz. The already jumpy crowd immediately began gossiping again before a loud shout from an Ulric priest declaring that difficult time is to come, that the last winter solstice might be the people's last reprieve. The Middenheimers that listened to this, of course, thought it was ridiculous because it is usually the priests of Sigmar that spread the usual doom and gloom. Even one of the priests of Sigmar who shadows this particular Ulric priest doesn’t have his usual quick retort and opting to return to his superior to consult on the matter.
As for the scout, his countenance is haggard, not sleeping at all as he rides the entire day west and immediately returns to report while his horse keels over at the palace’s stables. Some servants attended the scout as he hastily made his way into the Elector Count’s council. Drinks in tankard that he downed instantly, some rag to wipe most of his sweat, and some brush that he swatted in surprise when one of the servants attempted to comb his unkempt beard and moustache. He arrived at the ornate door to the palace’s main hall, a pair of Knight Panther stood guard beside the doorway. The two knights open the doorway at the same time, allowing the scout to waltz in as Graf Boris along with his council and captains stands beside a massive table overlooking the massive map of the empire. On Boris' left is Veran Thugenheim, senior commander of the Order of Knight Panther and Boris' closest friend.
“Well son, let’s hear it.” Commanded Veran as the scout stopped a respectful distance away.
“At first I thought it was a sinkhole sir. But it looks like there’s a huge cave down the hole. Like-uh, like it's been excavated. Could be just a cave system but I did not linger too long to find out.”
“And why is that?”
“I thought I saw some ratmen sir.”
Immediately sounds of derision and that it is ridiculous comes and just as immediately silenced by a stare from Boris.
“Whatever it is that you saw, is it a threat? Should we send men to the west?” This time, Boris is the one who asks.
“I think we shouldn’t send men my lord, we are already committing men to Norland as reinforcements. It will take too much time to raise another army.” One of the attending captain disapprove
“Besides, not many use the Great North Road in winter. Sending a token of men to discourage the use of the road should be enough. If we send men and it turns out with nothing, it will take too much time for them to march north.” Another captain said
“Is that all? You didn’t check properly because you thought you saw ratmen?” captain Veran asks the scout again.
“Well, I-uh… yes.” The scout stammers, clearly uncomfortable by the attention.
“Then-”
“Actually sir, the last few days have been snowing right?”
“Yes, what about it?”
“Surrounding the hole sir, there’s no snow at all. Some parts of the swamp were even still fully wet when I arrived. Like it's not even winter there.” To this, the attending captain's attention is more serious than the ratmen.
“How far are these unfrozen lands stretches from the hole?”
The scout's eyes move around, trying to remember the odd scenery. Rubbing his fingers behind his back and now realizes that they are sweaty.
“A couple dozen yards give or take sir. Maybe more.”
“I see. Good job son, dismissed.”
The scout is glad to be finally dismissed. And now the council is silent once more. Ruminating on what has been revealed. Rumors of ratmen are almost always unreliable. But a huge swathe of land seemingly unfrozen in winter? It could mean many things. To witches, daemons, and hell maybe even a dragon. One thing is clear however.
“I still think we can’t send men west, my lord.” But his words have changed from shouldn’t to can’t.
“If we took a squad out of each company, we would get around sixty men.” another captain added.
“Should that be not enough, I heard that the refugees have been causing trouble.”Another captain pointed out that the influx of refugees from the previous wave of sudden mutations have been causing trouble now due to the lack of jobs and that things have calmed down somewhat since then.
“Sending excess men with just few trained soldiers? I like it.”
“Is that sarcasm? It won't be worth the trouble. The peasants would sooner scatter should there really be a problem around.”
“Ridiculous, then who will toil the land should they scatter or even die come spring?”
Three other captains from noble backgrounds immediately took over the discussion. Which devolves into arguments on what to do as the rest of the captains join in. Whatever happens in the west, it is still better to be prepared. But as splitting the army to west and north is not an option, sending only sixty soldiers at most is a suicide against whatever it is and adding untrained peasants will not add much to the chance.
“Then how about we don’t need to send any men?” An old Ulric priest, the one that represents the Ar-Ulric within the council, suddenly interjects.
“I have been hearing some strange stories and rumors from Altdorf about a supposed civil beastmen with golden furs in Drakwald. Perhaps sending another scout is enough?” He continues which darkens Graf's countenance.
“Preposterous! Requesting assistance from beastmen!?” Shouted one of the captains and similar comments followed.
“Suppose I heard that is true. The last caravan from Cathay certainly attest to this.” A calming voice that is out of place comes from behind Boris. An Eonir elf in what appears to be a courtier outfit appears. His name is Allavandrel Fanmaris who serves as Boris’ Master of the Hunt .
“Have you been spying on us elf?” One captain accuses, his hand on his hilt.
Allavandrel just shrugs at the accusation. It also leaves distaste in his mouth to even say what he said but he has confirmed that it is indeed his queen that requests her agents to prop up these golden beastmen and he does as requested. Of course, his shrug exacerbates the arguments even more. Even the captain that almost pulls his sword only stays when another points out the elf’s role in Graf Boris court which not many know as Boris is not exactly a prolific hunter. Whether it is the elf place to even voice out his opinion now is a different matter however.
“I have heard enough.” Boris' words immediately silenced the hall.
“Take a squad from each company. Round up some of the troublemakers and recruit some more from the refugees. I will also send Captain Bertrand. The gaggle of wizards under his command should be more equipped if there is some malign sorcery at work. Additionally he should have had experience in dealing with these golden furred beastmen, I will trust his judgement in that matter for now until I return from the north.”
Boris then looks around to his council and his captains.
“As there are no further words, you have your orders. Dismissed.”
—
A very loud sniffs sounded. Irking rich patrons of the Red Moon who dine their fancy meals. The Red Moon is one of the most popular cabaret bars in Middenheim though in the afternoon, they also serve as a restaurant for wealthy patrons. Many are staring daggers at the witch hunter and the massive barbaric man that only wears pants and a wolf skin and clearly smells like an alcoholic that never bathes. The only reason they did not throw a fit is because the man beside the witch hunter is almost twice the size of a normal man.
“Can you stop doing that?” Kostner asks.
“Depends. Can you witch hunters do your work properly?” Ulric said as he went to the bar.
“TWO BARRELS OF YOUR BEST ALCOHOL!” Ulric shouts as he slams a pouch of golden crowns in front of the bartender.
“Um… sir, we don’t sell entire barrels.” The bartender meekly answers, looking left and right to other bartenders that quietly ignore him.
“Is that so? Then all the alcohol on that entire wall.” Ulric then points at the entire wine racks behind the entire bar. There should be more than a hundred of the best vintages, wines, and all manner of high quality alcohol stored just on those racks.
“Can I consult with my manager first?”
“Yeah sure.” Ulric then leans down. “Don’t keep me waiting.” Then he flashes a toothy grin that sends the bartender running.
“So what is it this time?” Kostner opens his notebook.
“Smell like a bitch in here.”
“Another one of those. Nice.” Kostner said sarcastically. This made the second female vampire present in Middenheim.
As for why he and Ulric are here. They are shopping for alcohol. Ulric and Taal alone have downed everything he has stored and apparently the gods said that another one is coming soon and they can’t do without a proper drink. As for where Ulric gets his money, his main temple is here. Of course along the way, Ulric kept picking up things that even the witch hunters missed with his nose.
“Well if it isn’t Kostner. Long time no see.” Came a familiar voice that Kostner recognized.
“Faris, though people like you never liked these places.” Kostner greets Faris with some degree of familiarity.
“Never does. But my father has some sizable investment in this establishment and my sister is friends with the proprietress. Still try to have me inherit the business too” Faris, still in his witch hunter uniform went behind the bar and pick the pouch of golden crowns
“Two barrels right? I can’t give you the one we have from Bretonnia. Those are for exclusive members.” He addresses Ulric without fear, taking a half a dozen golden crowns from the pouch and returning it.
“So you are a witch hunter too boy? What made you not inherit the business? Seems safer for your ilk.” Both Kostner and Faris catch the slightly hostile undertone from Ulric.
Faris takes another look at Kostner and then to Ulric before realizing that the huge man doesn’t work for the witch hunter.
“Was never one of my aspirations.” Faris answers
“Family problem? Someone that needs to be constantly indoors?” If there is any reaction to this provocation, Faris did not show it.
“That is none of your business. Now then, if there’s nothing else I will ask you to leave.” Faris politely asks.
Ulric shows a crooked smile before taking each of the prepared barrels in each arm.
“I apologize for that, he is… difficult to work with.”
“I can relate.”
Then Kostner gives a polite bow and leaves after Ulric. Faris immediately went to the back and took the hidden stairs down.
—
“What was that about?” Kostner asks Ulric
“How long have you known that Faris fellow?” Ulric ask back
“He is a witch hunter a decade my senior. His track record is impeccable. Why?”
“He has that stench of those working with vampires.” Ulric then saw a crowd gathering near some notification board and went there.
“But that’s impossible. He has hunted plenty of heretical and chaos cults, even a vampire.” Kostner follows Ulric who waddles through the crowd which he notices are mostly the refugees that came a month ago.
The crowds asking what the notice said and asking who can read, to read it out loud for the rest.
“Would you look at that?” Ulric said with a grin and Kostner read the notice on the board
It is a recruitment notice for two hundred men, exclusively offered for the refugees. But what caught his attention is the included mention of working with many wizards and the name of the commanding officers. Captain Bertrand and Witch Hunter Faris.
“That looks fun. Tell the rest I’m joining.”
Though all anxiety and anticipation returns in full as the morning crowd sees a scout riding a frothing horse gallops directly into the direction of the Middenpalaz. The already jumpy crowd immediately began gossiping again before a loud shout from an Ulric priest declaring that difficult time is to come, that the last winter solstice might be the people's last reprieve. The Middenheimers that listened to this, of course, thought it was ridiculous because it is usually the priests of Sigmar that spread the usual doom and gloom. Even one of the priests of Sigmar who shadows this particular Ulric priest doesn’t have his usual quick retort and opting to return to his superior to consult on the matter.
As for the scout, his countenance is haggard, not sleeping at all as he rides the entire day west and immediately returns to report while his horse keels over at the palace’s stables. Some servants attended the scout as he hastily made his way into the Elector Count’s council. Drinks in tankard that he downed instantly, some rag to wipe most of his sweat, and some brush that he swatted in surprise when one of the servants attempted to comb his unkempt beard and moustache. He arrived at the ornate door to the palace’s main hall, a pair of Knight Panther stood guard beside the doorway. The two knights open the doorway at the same time, allowing the scout to waltz in as Graf Boris along with his council and captains stands beside a massive table overlooking the massive map of the empire. On Boris' left is Veran Thugenheim, senior commander of the Order of Knight Panther and Boris' closest friend.
“Well son, let’s hear it.” Commanded Veran as the scout stopped a respectful distance away.
“At first I thought it was a sinkhole sir. But it looks like there’s a huge cave down the hole. Like-uh, like it's been excavated. Could be just a cave system but I did not linger too long to find out.”
“And why is that?”
“I thought I saw some ratmen sir.”
Immediately sounds of derision and that it is ridiculous comes and just as immediately silenced by a stare from Boris.
“Whatever it is that you saw, is it a threat? Should we send men to the west?” This time, Boris is the one who asks.
“I think we shouldn’t send men my lord, we are already committing men to Norland as reinforcements. It will take too much time to raise another army.” One of the attending captain disapprove
“Besides, not many use the Great North Road in winter. Sending a token of men to discourage the use of the road should be enough. If we send men and it turns out with nothing, it will take too much time for them to march north.” Another captain said
“Is that all? You didn’t check properly because you thought you saw ratmen?” captain Veran asks the scout again.
“Well, I-uh… yes.” The scout stammers, clearly uncomfortable by the attention.
“Then-”
“Actually sir, the last few days have been snowing right?”
“Yes, what about it?”
“Surrounding the hole sir, there’s no snow at all. Some parts of the swamp were even still fully wet when I arrived. Like it's not even winter there.” To this, the attending captain's attention is more serious than the ratmen.
“How far are these unfrozen lands stretches from the hole?”
The scout's eyes move around, trying to remember the odd scenery. Rubbing his fingers behind his back and now realizes that they are sweaty.
“A couple dozen yards give or take sir. Maybe more.”
“I see. Good job son, dismissed.”
The scout is glad to be finally dismissed. And now the council is silent once more. Ruminating on what has been revealed. Rumors of ratmen are almost always unreliable. But a huge swathe of land seemingly unfrozen in winter? It could mean many things. To witches, daemons, and hell maybe even a dragon. One thing is clear however.
“I still think we can’t send men west, my lord.” But his words have changed from shouldn’t to can’t.
“If we took a squad out of each company, we would get around sixty men.” another captain added.
“Should that be not enough, I heard that the refugees have been causing trouble.”Another captain pointed out that the influx of refugees from the previous wave of sudden mutations have been causing trouble now due to the lack of jobs and that things have calmed down somewhat since then.
“Sending excess men with just few trained soldiers? I like it.”
“Is that sarcasm? It won't be worth the trouble. The peasants would sooner scatter should there really be a problem around.”
“Ridiculous, then who will toil the land should they scatter or even die come spring?”
Three other captains from noble backgrounds immediately took over the discussion. Which devolves into arguments on what to do as the rest of the captains join in. Whatever happens in the west, it is still better to be prepared. But as splitting the army to west and north is not an option, sending only sixty soldiers at most is a suicide against whatever it is and adding untrained peasants will not add much to the chance.
“Then how about we don’t need to send any men?” An old Ulric priest, the one that represents the Ar-Ulric within the council, suddenly interjects.
“I have been hearing some strange stories and rumors from Altdorf about a supposed civil beastmen with golden furs in Drakwald. Perhaps sending another scout is enough?” He continues which darkens Graf's countenance.
“Preposterous! Requesting assistance from beastmen!?” Shouted one of the captains and similar comments followed.
“Suppose I heard that is true. The last caravan from Cathay certainly attest to this.” A calming voice that is out of place comes from behind Boris. An Eonir elf in what appears to be a courtier outfit appears. His name is Allavandrel Fanmaris who serves as Boris’ Master of the Hunt .
“Have you been spying on us elf?” One captain accuses, his hand on his hilt.
Allavandrel just shrugs at the accusation. It also leaves distaste in his mouth to even say what he said but he has confirmed that it is indeed his queen that requests her agents to prop up these golden beastmen and he does as requested. Of course, his shrug exacerbates the arguments even more. Even the captain that almost pulls his sword only stays when another points out the elf’s role in Graf Boris court which not many know as Boris is not exactly a prolific hunter. Whether it is the elf place to even voice out his opinion now is a different matter however.
“I have heard enough.” Boris' words immediately silenced the hall.
“Take a squad from each company. Round up some of the troublemakers and recruit some more from the refugees. I will also send Captain Bertrand. The gaggle of wizards under his command should be more equipped if there is some malign sorcery at work. Additionally he should have had experience in dealing with these golden furred beastmen, I will trust his judgement in that matter for now until I return from the north.”
Boris then looks around to his council and his captains.
“As there are no further words, you have your orders. Dismissed.”
—
A very loud sniffs sounded. Irking rich patrons of the Red Moon who dine their fancy meals. The Red Moon is one of the most popular cabaret bars in Middenheim though in the afternoon, they also serve as a restaurant for wealthy patrons. Many are staring daggers at the witch hunter and the massive barbaric man that only wears pants and a wolf skin and clearly smells like an alcoholic that never bathes. The only reason they did not throw a fit is because the man beside the witch hunter is almost twice the size of a normal man.
“Can you stop doing that?” Kostner asks.
“Depends. Can you witch hunters do your work properly?” Ulric said as he went to the bar.
“TWO BARRELS OF YOUR BEST ALCOHOL!” Ulric shouts as he slams a pouch of golden crowns in front of the bartender.
“Um… sir, we don’t sell entire barrels.” The bartender meekly answers, looking left and right to other bartenders that quietly ignore him.
“Is that so? Then all the alcohol on that entire wall.” Ulric then points at the entire wine racks behind the entire bar. There should be more than a hundred of the best vintages, wines, and all manner of high quality alcohol stored just on those racks.
“Can I consult with my manager first?”
“Yeah sure.” Ulric then leans down. “Don’t keep me waiting.” Then he flashes a toothy grin that sends the bartender running.
“So what is it this time?” Kostner opens his notebook.
“Smell like a bitch in here.”
“Another one of those. Nice.” Kostner said sarcastically. This made the second female vampire present in Middenheim.
As for why he and Ulric are here. They are shopping for alcohol. Ulric and Taal alone have downed everything he has stored and apparently the gods said that another one is coming soon and they can’t do without a proper drink. As for where Ulric gets his money, his main temple is here. Of course along the way, Ulric kept picking up things that even the witch hunters missed with his nose.
“Well if it isn’t Kostner. Long time no see.” Came a familiar voice that Kostner recognized.
“Faris, though people like you never liked these places.” Kostner greets Faris with some degree of familiarity.
“Never does. But my father has some sizable investment in this establishment and my sister is friends with the proprietress. Still try to have me inherit the business too” Faris, still in his witch hunter uniform went behind the bar and pick the pouch of golden crowns
“Two barrels right? I can’t give you the one we have from Bretonnia. Those are for exclusive members.” He addresses Ulric without fear, taking a half a dozen golden crowns from the pouch and returning it.
“So you are a witch hunter too boy? What made you not inherit the business? Seems safer for your ilk.” Both Kostner and Faris catch the slightly hostile undertone from Ulric.
Faris takes another look at Kostner and then to Ulric before realizing that the huge man doesn’t work for the witch hunter.
“Was never one of my aspirations.” Faris answers
“Family problem? Someone that needs to be constantly indoors?” If there is any reaction to this provocation, Faris did not show it.
“That is none of your business. Now then, if there’s nothing else I will ask you to leave.” Faris politely asks.
Ulric shows a crooked smile before taking each of the prepared barrels in each arm.
“I apologize for that, he is… difficult to work with.”
“I can relate.”
Then Kostner gives a polite bow and leaves after Ulric. Faris immediately went to the back and took the hidden stairs down.
—
“What was that about?” Kostner asks Ulric
“How long have you known that Faris fellow?” Ulric ask back
“He is a witch hunter a decade my senior. His track record is impeccable. Why?”
“He has that stench of those working with vampires.” Ulric then saw a crowd gathering near some notification board and went there.
“But that’s impossible. He has hunted plenty of heretical and chaos cults, even a vampire.” Kostner follows Ulric who waddles through the crowd which he notices are mostly the refugees that came a month ago.
The crowds asking what the notice said and asking who can read, to read it out loud for the rest.
“Would you look at that?” Ulric said with a grin and Kostner read the notice on the board
It is a recruitment notice for two hundred men, exclusively offered for the refugees. But what caught his attention is the included mention of working with many wizards and the name of the commanding officers. Captain Bertrand and Witch Hunter Faris.
“That looks fun. Tell the rest I’m joining.”