Dungeons and Warhammers (updated March 17th)

[NiTessine]

Here. Chapter Four, second installment. I'm trying to fall into an installment per week rhythm, posting on the weekends. We'll see how long I can keep that up...
But, anyway... Here it is! Have at it!
------------------------------------------------------------------

The following day dawned bleak and grey, fog hanging over the cold sea like a soft blanket. Frederich had decided to start the day early, and was sharing a large bottle of Bugman's ale with a few of the deck guards. Franz was also outside, bare-headed and –footed, letting the cold sea wind whip against his face. He reminded the others of flagellants. Fisibbei and Kase were down in the dining hall, breaking their fast. Khaelas was asleep.

The elf and the halfling were enjoying a light meal of fish, the only edible thing on board that wasn't crawling with worms. Suddenly, a bell started to sound. It was a loud, frantic clanging. After going on for five seconds, it was cut short. They both knew what this meant. It was the ship's alarm bell. And there was no time to run to the cabin and get weapons.

Fisibbei, thinking it was most likely a pirate attack, smashed his chair against the floor, and picked up a leg. As he ran towards the deck, he grasped his root and chanted words of Druidic. A bold green light settled over his makeshift weapon, which grew heavier and sturdier in his hand. No longer was it a chair leg, but a hard cudgel.

Kase followed after the halfling, running swiftly. As the two spellcasters ascended the stairs to the deck, they were greeted with a scene of carnage. Dead and dying sailors littered the deck, losing the battle against the invaders. The attackers were no ordinary pirates, but strange, blue-skinned goblins, wielding crooked spears, tipped with sharp bone. Snarling, they were butchering the helpless sailors.

Among the bloodshed, two beacons of hope arose. Frederich had littered the deck with sea goblin corpses, making his way for their leader. He was wielding a spear of a slain warrior, evidently stabbed to death with a broken bottle. Franz was keeping a doorway to the lower decks clear, staving off his blue-skinned attackers with a broken spear shaft, wrested from the hands of a defeated enemy.

However, where Frederich was cutting a swath of death across the ranks of the troglagobs, as the water-dwelling goblins were called, the priest was in dire trouble. He was encircled by the creatures, and for every one he slew, two another rose up to take its place. The dead lay around him in numbers, yet they came on, prodding and thrusting with their crooked spears. Again and again they plunged their bone blades in Franz's flesh, and the bleeding priest slumped down.

The goblins were upon him like vultures at a carcass, tearing him apart, taking his items, and making for the sea. And then, Fisibbei was there. He crushed the skull of one troglagob with his cudgel, then smashed it into another's face. He slew four of the sea goblins before they even realized he was there. And when they did, they ran. The druid's furious attack drove the scavengers from the fallen priest, leaving many of their number dead or incapacitated. But, as Fisibbei came to his comrade, he saw that he was too late.

For they had taken Franz Hoffman's head.

* * *

An hour later they were sitting in the dining hall. Eight sailors had fallen, in addition to Franz. Most bodies had been taken overboard by the goblins. The troglagobs had suffered greater casualties. Frederich, in his mad dash to get to their leader, had struck down seven of their number, even though their chieftain and shaman had both gotten away.

Even more worrying were the news of Captain Versenkung's disappearance, brought by the first mate, a Lothern elf named Ranland. He'd gone missing during the night, along with one of the ship's three lifeboats. The conclusion was obvious, but his motives remained unclear. The possibility of him hiding – or being hidden – somewhere on the ship was also brought up.

Thus, into the cargo holds they descended, them being a logical place for a man to hide. The cabins were few and had been quickly checked, leaving only the damp darkness where merchandise was stored. Fisibbei cast a few spells of detection, grasping the knobbly root that was his holy symbol, and chanting in Druidic. When he was finished, he stumbled and fell.

"Magic! Immensely powerful!" he shouted as he clambered up from the floor. The halfling was pale in the light of their lanterns. "Downwards. It is deep… Must be below the waterline!"

The four adventurers ran down the stairs, the ever darker and damper holds, deep in the bowels of the ship. They reached the bottom level. It was spooky, down there. The wood groaned and creaked, every now and then, and they were all too aware of the ocean pressing in on them, cold and lethal.

After a moment's concentration, Fisibbei pointed at a crate at the far side of the hold, almost hidden by the shadows. The box was made of flimsy wood, and painted with the text "VON HEDON". Nervously, sweating even in the coolness of the cargo hold, Frederich grasped the box's lid, and pulled. Nails bent and wood shattered as it came off. They all crowded around to look at what lay within.

And that which lay within looked back at them.

 

[Ruined]

Ouch! Brutal battle, with the end of Franz. So I wonder, is the thing in the crate something dangerous, or perhaps is it the player's new PC? Inquiring minds want to know.

 

[NiTessine]

Ouch! Brutal battle, with the end of Franz. So I wonder, is the thing in the crate something dangerous, or perhaps is it the player's new PC? Inquiring minds want to know.

Well, Franz's player isn't going to make a new character... We parted less than amiably, and a number of death threats were made. Our playing styles were notably different, and though we continue to play Warhammer together, I doubt he'll be showing up in this campaign again.

 

[NiTessine]

Here, the fifth chapter, first installment! And right on time, too! Be warned, though... The story takes a darker turn as the powers of Chaos start to manifest. Reading is not recommended for anyone, especially minors, pregnant women, or others with impressionable minds or weak stomachs.

Chapter 5 - Like Rats from a Sinking Ship

It was a painting. A painting of a boy, facing the viewer. Next to the boy, there was a doll of a girl, her empty eyesockets staring at nothingness. The boy's expression was frightening. It was a cold, calculating stare, thoroughly unfit for such a youthful face. Behind the boy and his doll, there was a window, and behind the window was blackness, out of which dozens of small, disembodied hands reached out to them.

The adventurers all took an involuntary step backwards, shaken by the sudden sight. After a tense, silent moment, they had all regained their wits and calmed their nerves. Fisibbei was the first one to speak.
"That painting… it radiates unspeakable evil, and powerful magic."
"I can feel it, too, even though I have cast no spells to detect such," replied Khaelas.

For a short while, they discussed their next course of action, speaking in hushed tones, and trying to avoid looking at the painting, all the while keeping an eye on it. For all they knew, it could start moving.

In the end, they decided to hide the box in another part of the cargo hold. None of them wanted to take the vile portrait to their cabin. With his eyes averted, Frederich carried the large crate into the deepest, shadowy recesses of the room. They did not even attempt to destroy it. Anything that powerful was most likely indestructible by any mundane means, and probably capable of defending itself. The evil painting was left in the darkness, as the heroes made their way back to the upper decks, still pale and nervous of what they had seen.

When they ascended the final steps from the hold, they were met with a woman's keening wail. Quick examination revealed its source as Lady Siegfrida von Hedon, crumpled in front of an open doorway to the cabin they knew was occupied by her children, Lisette and young Peter. Fearing the worst, the four adventurers quickened their steps to a run.

What was in the room was terrible enough to make even Frederich retch. The walls, the floor, and the bedsheets were covered in blood. White feathers from the torn pillows and eiderdowns were spread about the room, in stark contrast to the bright red liquid. In the carnage, they could see bits and pieces of something that may once have been human.

* * *

The remains had belonged to young Peter, only four years old. Lisette was still alive, fortunately. Lady Siegfrieda was still paralysed by her discovery, and the adventurers were severely shaken, overcome by feelings of guilt, for they had failed to unveil the assassin in time. Lord Henrik von Hedon had not come forth to speak with them, apparently being content with an accusing glare. It was enough, and they all knew it.

* * *

That night, none of them slept well. All four were plagued by horrible nightmares of daemons and undead. Terrible winged fiends hunted them, and rotting cadavers rose from their graves to grasp at their ankles.

It was early morning when they started awake in their beds, all at the same time. The ship was still silent. Frederich was wandering towards the poop deck, when he stumbled upon one of the guards in the corridor. Literally. The man's throat had been cut, and he was lying in a pool of his own blood.

Hissing a curse, the massive warrior sprinted back to the cabins, and alerted the others. Kase's first reaction was to shout:
"The painting!"

A scant few minutes later, they were all in full armour, running to the cargo hold. When they arrived, their fears were confirmed. The crate was empty, the painting was gone.

Their search soon took them to the upper deck, to see whether any more lifeboats had disappeared. There, they were quite surprised to see the entire von Hedon family packed into the three lifeboats, beginning to lower them into the water. Father Ulrich was also there, as was Canio, the Tilean jester, and a halfling who was presumably their cook. Khaelas spotted a cloth-covered rectangle that he suspected was the missing painting.

When he saw the adventurers approaching, Henrik von Hedon stepped from the boat. The man was tall and thin, and his features were sharply defined, angular. In the hazy light of the early morning, they looked even sharper, caricatured, as if drawn with a ruler. He was dressed in olive green, with a cloak of the blackest silk. No hat or helm adorned his head, the pate crowned only by his hair, raven black and arrow straight. The nobleman looked at them coldly.

"Turn back," he called. "Do not attempt to interfere, and you might yet live."
"You murdered the guards and the crew, didn't you? It was you, all along!" cried out Fisibbei.
"Yes, as was necessary. Now, go back to your cabins, lest you suffer their fate."
"You know we will not do that. Fight or surrender, those are your options," Frederich shouted, raising his axe in challenge.

"Very well, if that is your wish," the nobleman replied, drawing forth a long rapier. Its sharp blade glinted in the morning sun with a malevolent light, promising death. "Who will be the first one, then?" he asked calmly, as the three lifeboats descended to the ocean behind him.

Not uttering a word, Kase drew forth his longsword, hefting it high, and charged Henrik. The thin man's hand flashed into the folds of his cloak, and there was a loud noise, a crack of thunder. As Kase Galanodel slumped down on the deck, bleeding from a wound that pierced his heart, they all saw the weapon. It was a duelling pistol, a finely-crafted firearm from the workshops of Nuln. It was an item of tremendous destructive power and accuracy, as they had seen.

But they all also knew that loading it was a long and complicated affair. Cold fire burning in his eyes, Frederich took a step towards the nobleman, who holstered his gun, smirking.

At that moment, Khaelas also fell to the deck with a cry of pain. As they turned to look, they saw his thigh had been pierced by two crude javelins. The wounds seeped blood, and the incapacitating pain made the elven sorcerer lose his consciousness.

The javelins had been thrown by a pair of troglagobs that stood, with several of their friends, behind them. Their leaders were the same as in the previous attack, a bone-armoured brute, and a smaller, black-clad one. Another troglagob raised a spear for the throw, but was taken down by a long, blue-fletched arrow that suddenly sprouted from his throat.

"Nobody does this to my ship and lives!" came the cry from the shadows in the ship's foredeck. There stood Ranland, the elven former first mate, current captain of the ship, with a longbow in his hand. He quickly shot another arrow, taking one of the troglagobs in the shoulder, causing it to drop its weapon and cry out in pain. Frederich quickly swung his axe, cleaving the wounded sea goblin's head in twain.

Fisibbei turned to face the nobleman as Ranland and Frederich dealt with the goblins. He hefted his sickle, measuring it against the nobleman's greater reach. He was preparing to strike the first blow, when something, a flash of black shadow, with hint of a tail, fell from the rigging to the deck and darted towards von Hedon. The nobleman's hand flashed again to his cloak, bringing up a second duelling pistol, and again the sharp sound of gunshot sounded over the placid sea. All this happened so fast the halfling druid could not keep up, marvelling at the speed of his opponent.

The shot missed the shadowy shape by a hair, and it was upon him. It was a skaven, black cloak billowing behind him, and a hairless, scaly tail flicking back and forth in excitement as the ratman stabbed Henrik von Hedon in the stomach with his long, wavy-bladed dagger, faintly glowing with a green haze. Black blood gushed forth from the gaping wound in his abdomen, and he collapsed, dark froth already specking his lips as the potent venoms of the skaven took action.

The black-furred ratman stabbed the prone noble again and again, until his silken cloak was but mere shreds, and his oily black blood, tainted by the power of Chaos, was thick on the deck. Then, satisfied with his work, it turned its bestial face towards Fisibbei, red eyes burning with hatred. And the halfling knew fear.

Yet, he steeled himself. Dropping his sickle, he willed into being a sword spun from flame, a weapon of fire given form. Thus armed with magic, he struck at the skaven. Their weapons clanged and struck sparks, and the duel had begun.

Steel soaked in warpstone struck off solid fire, as the assassin and the druid circled each other, striking out at the opponent, only to be blocked or deflected. The flaming sword's heat singed the skaven's fur, and the unholy magic of the sword made Fisibbei's hairs bristle as the two struck, parried, and struck again in their dance. Their instincts took over, shutting off the outside world.

And thus, neither of them noticed the death from behind.

 

[Jon Potter]

Very, very well written.

I particularly enjoyed the description of von Hedon.

And of course, the skaven.

You keep writing and I'll keep reading.

 

[NiTessine]

Kase's death, by the way, was a result of his player being kicked out of the group because he never showed up. He was replaced by another player next session.

 

[madriel]

That was fantastic. Your writing is getting better and better, NiTessine. You captured the creepiness of von Hedon and the Skaven perfectly.

 

[NiTessine]

Here it is, the last part of Chapter 5. Sorry about the short length and the long delay. Had this evil thingy called school invade my life, and then I spent four days in Hungary. But now, I'm back home, the school stuff's been taken care of, and I can concentrate on important stuff, like keeping my readers happy. Have at it!

---------------------------------------------------

Frederich's axe came down, sweeping the skaven's head clean from its hunched shoulders. The body slumped to the deck. The fight was over.

Dead troglagobs were laying in heaps where Ranland and Frederich had slain them. Khaelas was quietly whimpering in pain. The skaven and the nobleman lay in a tangle, their blood mixing into a pool that ran in rivulets over the side, to the sea. Kase lay still, his sightless eyes looking at the sky, where dark clouds had gathered. It began to rain.

And as they thought things just couldn't get any worse, they did. They smelled smoke. A thick, grey column wafted upwards from belowdecks, carrying with it the certain knowledge that Das Minnow had just made her last journey. With the amount of smoke, they could not even go down to check how widespread the fire was, let alone attempt to put it out.
"My ship! They burned my ship, the savages!" Ranland could be heard muttering.

During the battle, the morning fog had lifted, unveiling the city of Marienburg only a mile away. That mile was of cold sea. Its deceptively placid surface was broken in three places near the ship by the triangular dorsal fins of sharks. Unbeknownst to the heroes, they were the pets and mounts of the late troglagobs. In the end, that knowledge wouldn't have done them much good.

However, they hadn't come that far just to die on a burning ship. Frederich, being from Nuln, knew enough of firearms to load and fire one, and managed to injure one of the great sea beasts with a lucky shot from von Hedon's handgun. The effect was far more than they'd expected, however. The two other creatures immediately rushed towards their friend, and soon the water was as blood, as the three creatures fought each other in a feeding frenzy, tearing great chunks off their sides and reducing fins to ribbons.

In the end, only one remained, injured. Frederich put it out of its misery with another shot.

* * *

The swim was a long and hard one. As flames engulfed Kase's body and the ship, along with most of their gear, the adventurers let their fates to the hands of Manannan. Frederich and Ranland were both adept swimmers, but Fisibbei and Khaelas both nearly drowned before they finally pulled themselves on the stones of the Marienburg harbour. There they laid for many long minutes like so many dead fish, regaining their breath and their strength.

Then, they rose, still dripping water. Their muscles aching from the long swim, shivering from the icy water, the four made their way to the closest inn with hot baths, and paid them for a week.

 

[Kosh]

*Applause*

Excellent...

 

[NiTessine]

Again, I must apologize for the long wait. I had an exams week at school, and so on. Well, you've all heard that before. On the good side, this update is considerably longer than the previous one.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6 – Shadows in the Night

It took two days of rest before any of them could even think of trying to find out where the von Hedons were headed. The cold water and injuries suffered in the battle had not been a healthy combination, even after the sharks had been killed.

The elf Ranland melded into the group quite smoothly. He had lost his ship and all of his worldly possessions, and wanted to avenge the Chaos-worshipping nobles, and with Franz gone, nobody even questioned him joining the party. And they had all seen his skill with the bow.

Once they judged themselves to be in sufficiently good condition to do so, they started thinking up a plan. The von Hedons must have had arrived in Marienburg, they reasoned. They were in three small boats, and the Marienburg harbour was the only place where they could some to land in the region. The shoreline was mostly jagged rocks and sheer cliffs for a dozen miles in each direction.

The first step was to gain new equipment. They had had to leave most of their weapons and all of their armour in the burning ship. They'd only retained their gold and the magical sword they'd taken from Viseslav in Sarbas.

Soon they had bought what they needed. All were decked out in brand new armour, and carried sharp steel at their belts. Frederich had paid a veritable fortune for a full set of half-plate, reasoning that after spending several years in Kislev, living in the ways of the land, he should do the same in Empire. Fisibbei commissioned a carpenter to make him a wooden breastplate, hoping that someday he might be able to transmute it into ironwood.

Thus armed and armoured, they began asking questions. Frederich, after buying a few rounds for the dock guards, found out that the von Hedons had indeed come ashore that day. That verified, it was time for Ranland and Khaelas to step in. Posing as a wealthy merchant from Lothern, Ranland went through every high-quality inn and tavern of Marienburg, claiming the von Hedons to have cheated him in a trading venture. His played the part of the suave and debonair merchant noble convincingly, and, in the Red Lion Inn, after a moment's chat with the butler, he found they had signed in the same day the ship had burned, and left the following day, leaving no clue of their eventual destination.

Not to be deterred, the high elf next headed to the caravan yards, where the merchant companies assembled their weekly, slow-moving caravans for their dangerous journeys to Nuln, Altdorf, and Parravon. There was strength in numbers, and those numbers were great indeed. Noble entourages and merchant wagons alike formed into massive, long, and well-guarded formations. With the mercenaries, hired guards, and the occasional adventuring band, they had enough manpower to stand against anything short of a full-scale orcish waaagh.

After dropping a few discreet gold crowns in all the right places, Ranland gained access to the normally confidential records of those who travelled with the caravans. The names of merchants and their companies, along with references to other documents listing their employees, were listed on the yellowish papers. Bocher the butcher, Ulrich the baker, Marya the chandler, Fritz Shickelgrüber the scribe, Johann the Knife…

A few minutes later, after dropping a few more crowns to the record keeper as thanks for his time and insurance for his silence, Ranland left with a smug smirk on his face.
"Really," he muttered as he walked towards their inn, the Three Spoons. "You'd think Chaos cultists in the Empire were a little more skilled at hiding their trails…"

* * *

The von Hedons' destination and means of travel now known, the four adventurers began planning how to catch up with them. The next caravan would not be leaving in another five days, and in any case, it would travel too slow for their liking. They would have to brave the Wasteland and the Reikwald Forest alone on their way to Nuln, the city named by the papers as the destination of all the von Hedon wagons.

Their funds were starting to run low, when they had all bought (and in Ranland's case, stolen) steeds. Fisibbei had to ride on the same horse with Khaelas, as the small ponies ridden by halflings would have been too slow for their journey. They set out at dawn of the fourth day of their stay in Marienburg, trotting at a brisk pace along the dusty road.

Their first day on the road went uneventfully, and they managed to cover a good distance, bringing them within sight of the Grey Mountains, the great natural barrier that separated the Empire from Bretonnia. The night went peacefully, with Khaelas and Ranland doing the watch.

On the noon of the second day, the road had snaked to the foothills of the mountains, the horses suddenly grew restless, and Fisibbei had to dismount, lest he be painfully thrown off. The reason for the steeds' unease soon became apparent, as they spotted the silhouette of a mountain lion, outlined against the sky on a hilltop. This gave the druid an idea. Digging a few strips of beef jerky from his pack, he sneaked closer to the great cat. The lion noticed him, and, curious about this strange little creature that did not fear him, began to pad closer. Smiling reassuringly, Fisibbei offered it the strips of beef.

In their saddles, the others tensed, certain that the animal would bite the halfling's arm off. Contrary to their expectations, however, this did not happen. The lion ate the offered food, licked the druid's hand a bit, and then examined the smiling halfling very closely. Then, it yawned and sat next to its new friend.