Ostland Interlude
- Location
- United Kingdom
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Ostland Interlude
It began quietly at first. Rumors and gossip of little consequence spread through the province.
There were tales of beasts and lions other such curious things, but in truth, this was not unusual given the presence of the Forest of Shadows. Many a Beastherd had come from that benighted place and as such, the Order of the Silver Hammer did not bestir itself overmuch.
Reports arrived at the desks of the Witch Hunters, but they were swiftly buried by greater concerns. The Vampire Wars still raged, and necromancers, vampires, and all manner of other horrors had been coming up from the south in years past, occupying the time of the Templars far more seriously.
Nevertheless, eventually the reports reached the right people. A provincial official sent a letter to a regional lord, a tax collector cited unusual events and persons unknown about in Ostland, or a knight bachelor readying for war had to change direction and turn to this strange new foe.
And what a strange foe it was!
Beastmen were relatively predictable, indeed the effects of Chaos, and more recently, the Von Carsteins, were well known by now by most learned people in the Empire, yet still the reports came.
Golden men had arrived from the sky, riding a comet down out of the clouds one night!
They were lions, and could tear a mob of Greenskins apart with only their claws and teeth!
No, they were men truly, yet of such a size as to be unbelievable, and with a martial skill to match it.
There was one, no a hundred of them, golden banners bearing a lion or a star device flying proudly!
No, in fact they were simply several capable and wealthy captains come up from the south, Sollanders, and nothing to be concerned with…
And on it went.
All these reports began to be poured over by the Templars of Wolfenburg, and the more learned of their Order studied the papers carefully. From what they could discern, three very large, very skilled men, had appeared at some point in the past few years, emerging in a remote region of the province, and had proceeded to root out several encampments of various evils that had been previously unknown. The reports further stated that they led a force of a little under a thousand soldiers, like them bearing lion-star sigils.
While the Empire's and the Order's information networks were certainly not the finest, especially in the borders or in regions like Ostland, this was still an unusual event, and it bore investigation. Enquires were sent and responses received, queries were raised in the Temple-Houses of each province, asking whether anyone knew of puissant men bearing such banners.
None could be found.
The Order looked further afield. Certainly a man might have been missed and acquired martial skill in some other land and journeyed to the Empire for reasons of his own, but three such men seemed unusual. One theory posited that the men were Cathayans who'd made the journey along the trade routes through World's Edge Mountains. It was unlikely, but not impossible, but Wolfenburg's scholars concentrated on more plausible explanations, going over older reports of the battles of the Vampire Wars. Certainly any such powerful and skilful warrior must have found employment in such conflict? It had touched most of the Empire after all.
But no, once again, even when questioning veterans and lords, none could recall such individuals.
Frustration grew within the Order and eventually the Lord Lector of Wolfenburg decided to set out with his guards to investigate the matter himself.
The journey was rapid, the party chosen for speed as much as valour, and the assaults of mutants and Beastmen along the road were swiftly despatched. From Wolfenburg they rode, through Kurst, Levudaldorf, Vandengart, and finally to Grenzburg on the border of Kislev itself.
It was a quiet town, cold and unfriendly, half the population either Ungols or Gospodar, the other half the men of Ostland, who generally scorned Sigmar.
Nevertheless, the Lector was received with honour by the Mayor, and the two dined together.
"I know of who you seek." the Mayor reported, "They are to the south, they have been doing something to the barrows of the ancient kings in the hills, though I know not what. They stay close enough to the border that they could flee into Kislev if they needed to."
And while the Lector had wide ranging authority, he could not order Ostlanders to violate the borders of that nation. "I do not mean to fight them." the Lector replied, "Why do you suggest such?"
The Mayor did not splutter or cry aloud, merely raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the kvas before him, "They refuse all orders, lawful or otherwise. Baron Kurlman was killed riding against them, and all his force, they insulted him, or so it's said."
The Lector frowned, "News of this did not come to Wolfenburg! The Baron was killed by Greenskins!"
Had the Lions somehow subverted their communications?
The Lector thought for a moment. Kurlman was a boorish fellow, or was, the Lector supposed, but he had several hundred horsemen and a good thousand infantry to call on, him being one of the marcher lords of Ostland and the guardians of the eastern border. Certainly Kurlman wouldn't have tolerated any free company of the size the Lions commanded, he would have tried to bring them to heel…
In the morning they rode out again. South they went, through Brizban and into the Selonian Hills.
They rode with swords drawn and pistols out, reins held at the ready. The Lector carried his hammer at the ready and all the party kept alert as they travelled.
Yet, no attack came.
The Selonian Hills weren't the Forest of Shadows, the Black Pit, or any other notably lair of evil, but evils were certainly known there. It was a border region and various creatures came in from Kislev which the Boyars had no desire to contest, but equally the Empire had no particular interest in overly securing the region. It lay on no major trade routes, no significant industry or important locations were located there and goblins especially were well known in the hills, frequently raiding towns and villages around, sometimes even making rafts and travelling over the Talabec into the southern regions.
But despite all this, despite the long history of threats in the area, the Lector saw nothing. No animals save crows and corpsefeeders, no goblins, Beastmen or anything else of that sort, just silence and stillness as the party wove its way through the hills.
And then suddenly, the scent of smoke, the sound of civilisation.
An army camp appear before them suddenly as they came around a hill.
The first thing that struck the Lector, his long years of warfare and experience directing his eyes as needed, was the organisation and discipline of the site. The camp was laid out in a rough square, following the terrain in places and going over it in others, with a palisade wall and an ankle-breaking ditch before the palisade. Wooden huts were within the wall, also laid out neatly in squares, while smoke billowed from a smithy at one end.
"Have you seen it's like, Sir Kaslain?" The Lector asked his companion, "Or you Eben?"
"I have not, my lord." replied Kaslain.
It worried the Lector, the knight was a veteran of the Vampire Wars, he had fought at the Battle of Four Armies outside Middenheim in 2100, and he saw Eben shaking his head as well.
While the men of the Empire certainly had adopted such formations in the past, the Lector knew no such camp had been seen in at least a century. As the Age of Three Emperors went on without conclusion, the armies of the Empire grew further and further from the standards they'd previously held. Knights, not infantry, most frequently were the deciding factor in warfare, and it was rare to see State Troops so disciplined in their organisation.
That was assuming these were State Troops at all, the Lector thought. For all he knew they could have fallen from the sky along with the Lionmen themselves!
"Who's paying them all?" Eben asked.
That was a good point actually… Supposedly there were a thousand men below and from the size of the camp the Lector could believe that, but unlike knights who owed a certain number of days service to their lords, professional soldiers fought for pay. Had someone smuggled a company of mercenaries to the Selonian Hills? To what purpose? Any such company would certainly have found employment in the Empire's armies during the current crisis, indeed, the Lector had only a few days prior seen a letter from the Count of Stirland asking to buy the contracts of any mercenary bands employed in other provinces.
The Lector set his hammer back on its ring at his belt and pointed, "Look there, we are discovered, let us go down to meet them."
Indeed, trumpets had sounded and the camp spurred to life as the party descended the hill, splashing through a small brook, icy water flicking up from their horses' hooves, the Lector flinching slightly when a drop landed on his neck.
They approached, and the gates of the encampment opened to admit them, a man in priestly robes waiting within.
The man was slight, he had the shaven head of a Sigmarite, but bore no weapon, so he was certainly not a Warrior Priest or a Templar.
"And who are you?" the Lector barked out as soon as his party gained the threshold. It had been discussed on the way but it did not seem likely that they would be killed out of hand, and the Lector therefore decided to adopt a more aggressive stance.
The words clearly had their intended effect and the priest looked surprised before collecting himself. He made the sign of the hammer and bowed, "Lord Lector, noble knights," he addressed the party, "You are expected, and I have been commanded to convey you to the Astartes."
"And who are they?"
"Our masters."
The Lector exaggerated a sneer, "You have no master but Sigmar. But coward though you may be, take us where you will."
It was a short journey to the centre of the camp but the Lector used the time well, raking the priest vigorously to get all the information he could as soon as possible, and learning that the priest had come with the Baron's army, only to be captured, and subsequently released. He spoke in glowing terms of the 'Astartes', and the Lector parsed the stories with the scepticism of his Order.
"There's no music here." Sir Kaslain said, directing his mount closer to the Lector's, "Nor women. It's unnatural for an army."
The Lector nodded, he had noticed it too.
At last they came to a large square before a wooden hall. It was rude in the extreme, without decoration save for a crude carving of an eagle above the door, but the Lector's eyes were drawn to three men who stood outside.
The first and most obvious thing was that they were enormous, seven of eight feet at least.
The second was their massiveness, not only were they tall, but they were broad too, immensely muscled and built in the manner of adherents of the Blood God, their necks, arms, and calves bulging. Even their faces were enormous, their jaws strong and their brows clear. It was like looking at a man the size of an ogre, beautiful yet horrifying to see such familiar shapes, indeed, such handsome faces, spread over such a large canvas.
The third thing was their garb, which was unusual also. The height and the size had been one thing, but each wore yellow cloth of great workmanship and richness. Indeed, when the Lector looked more closely he saw it shone. Could it be cloth-of-gold? It shone in the sunlight, surcoats, actually a sort of short robe, ending in wide sleeves at their elbows and in skirt above their knees. Their feet were bare, and they wore no armour whatsoever.
Their weapons were appropriately sized, once more unnatural in their size, and terrible in their potency. The centre man, the leader certainly, bore a sword the size of one of the Black Guard's greatswords, yet he wore it on his hip as if to wield it in a single hand. The second carried a bow, and on his back was a quiver of arrows large enough to be spears in a normal man's hand, while the third bore a dagger the size of a sword on his hip, and a staff of some black material, obsidian perhaps, topped with an ornament of jade, once again an eagle.
Though the Lector was a battle-hardened man, having combatted the evils of the Empire for decades, to be before these men was to be before the altar of Sigmar in the Cathedral of Nuln, or to be under the gaze of a griffon or dragon. It was terrible indeed, and as he looked into the eyes of the Astartes he could see how they'd imposed such discipline on the men of the camp.
"I am the Lector of Wolfenburg." the same announced, "And I have come to find out who you are and what purpose you have in this province."
The Astartes smiled.
"We are the Celestial Lions, and we have come to rule you."
Ostland Interlude
It began quietly at first. Rumors and gossip of little consequence spread through the province.
There were tales of beasts and lions other such curious things, but in truth, this was not unusual given the presence of the Forest of Shadows. Many a Beastherd had come from that benighted place and as such, the Order of the Silver Hammer did not bestir itself overmuch.
Reports arrived at the desks of the Witch Hunters, but they were swiftly buried by greater concerns. The Vampire Wars still raged, and necromancers, vampires, and all manner of other horrors had been coming up from the south in years past, occupying the time of the Templars far more seriously.
Nevertheless, eventually the reports reached the right people. A provincial official sent a letter to a regional lord, a tax collector cited unusual events and persons unknown about in Ostland, or a knight bachelor readying for war had to change direction and turn to this strange new foe.
And what a strange foe it was!
Beastmen were relatively predictable, indeed the effects of Chaos, and more recently, the Von Carsteins, were well known by now by most learned people in the Empire, yet still the reports came.
Golden men had arrived from the sky, riding a comet down out of the clouds one night!
They were lions, and could tear a mob of Greenskins apart with only their claws and teeth!
No, they were men truly, yet of such a size as to be unbelievable, and with a martial skill to match it.
There was one, no a hundred of them, golden banners bearing a lion or a star device flying proudly!
No, in fact they were simply several capable and wealthy captains come up from the south, Sollanders, and nothing to be concerned with…
And on it went.
All these reports began to be poured over by the Templars of Wolfenburg, and the more learned of their Order studied the papers carefully. From what they could discern, three very large, very skilled men, had appeared at some point in the past few years, emerging in a remote region of the province, and had proceeded to root out several encampments of various evils that had been previously unknown. The reports further stated that they led a force of a little under a thousand soldiers, like them bearing lion-star sigils.
While the Empire's and the Order's information networks were certainly not the finest, especially in the borders or in regions like Ostland, this was still an unusual event, and it bore investigation. Enquires were sent and responses received, queries were raised in the Temple-Houses of each province, asking whether anyone knew of puissant men bearing such banners.
None could be found.
The Order looked further afield. Certainly a man might have been missed and acquired martial skill in some other land and journeyed to the Empire for reasons of his own, but three such men seemed unusual. One theory posited that the men were Cathayans who'd made the journey along the trade routes through World's Edge Mountains. It was unlikely, but not impossible, but Wolfenburg's scholars concentrated on more plausible explanations, going over older reports of the battles of the Vampire Wars. Certainly any such powerful and skilful warrior must have found employment in such conflict? It had touched most of the Empire after all.
But no, once again, even when questioning veterans and lords, none could recall such individuals.
Frustration grew within the Order and eventually the Lord Lector of Wolfenburg decided to set out with his guards to investigate the matter himself.
The journey was rapid, the party chosen for speed as much as valour, and the assaults of mutants and Beastmen along the road were swiftly despatched. From Wolfenburg they rode, through Kurst, Levudaldorf, Vandengart, and finally to Grenzburg on the border of Kislev itself.
It was a quiet town, cold and unfriendly, half the population either Ungols or Gospodar, the other half the men of Ostland, who generally scorned Sigmar.
Nevertheless, the Lector was received with honour by the Mayor, and the two dined together.
"I know of who you seek." the Mayor reported, "They are to the south, they have been doing something to the barrows of the ancient kings in the hills, though I know not what. They stay close enough to the border that they could flee into Kislev if they needed to."
And while the Lector had wide ranging authority, he could not order Ostlanders to violate the borders of that nation. "I do not mean to fight them." the Lector replied, "Why do you suggest such?"
The Mayor did not splutter or cry aloud, merely raised his eyebrows and took a sip of the kvas before him, "They refuse all orders, lawful or otherwise. Baron Kurlman was killed riding against them, and all his force, they insulted him, or so it's said."
The Lector frowned, "News of this did not come to Wolfenburg! The Baron was killed by Greenskins!"
Had the Lions somehow subverted their communications?
The Lector thought for a moment. Kurlman was a boorish fellow, or was, the Lector supposed, but he had several hundred horsemen and a good thousand infantry to call on, him being one of the marcher lords of Ostland and the guardians of the eastern border. Certainly Kurlman wouldn't have tolerated any free company of the size the Lions commanded, he would have tried to bring them to heel…
In the morning they rode out again. South they went, through Brizban and into the Selonian Hills.
They rode with swords drawn and pistols out, reins held at the ready. The Lector carried his hammer at the ready and all the party kept alert as they travelled.
Yet, no attack came.
The Selonian Hills weren't the Forest of Shadows, the Black Pit, or any other notably lair of evil, but evils were certainly known there. It was a border region and various creatures came in from Kislev which the Boyars had no desire to contest, but equally the Empire had no particular interest in overly securing the region. It lay on no major trade routes, no significant industry or important locations were located there and goblins especially were well known in the hills, frequently raiding towns and villages around, sometimes even making rafts and travelling over the Talabec into the southern regions.
But despite all this, despite the long history of threats in the area, the Lector saw nothing. No animals save crows and corpsefeeders, no goblins, Beastmen or anything else of that sort, just silence and stillness as the party wove its way through the hills.
And then suddenly, the scent of smoke, the sound of civilisation.
An army camp appear before them suddenly as they came around a hill.
The first thing that struck the Lector, his long years of warfare and experience directing his eyes as needed, was the organisation and discipline of the site. The camp was laid out in a rough square, following the terrain in places and going over it in others, with a palisade wall and an ankle-breaking ditch before the palisade. Wooden huts were within the wall, also laid out neatly in squares, while smoke billowed from a smithy at one end.
"Have you seen it's like, Sir Kaslain?" The Lector asked his companion, "Or you Eben?"
"I have not, my lord." replied Kaslain.
It worried the Lector, the knight was a veteran of the Vampire Wars, he had fought at the Battle of Four Armies outside Middenheim in 2100, and he saw Eben shaking his head as well.
While the men of the Empire certainly had adopted such formations in the past, the Lector knew no such camp had been seen in at least a century. As the Age of Three Emperors went on without conclusion, the armies of the Empire grew further and further from the standards they'd previously held. Knights, not infantry, most frequently were the deciding factor in warfare, and it was rare to see State Troops so disciplined in their organisation.
That was assuming these were State Troops at all, the Lector thought. For all he knew they could have fallen from the sky along with the Lionmen themselves!
"Who's paying them all?" Eben asked.
That was a good point actually… Supposedly there were a thousand men below and from the size of the camp the Lector could believe that, but unlike knights who owed a certain number of days service to their lords, professional soldiers fought for pay. Had someone smuggled a company of mercenaries to the Selonian Hills? To what purpose? Any such company would certainly have found employment in the Empire's armies during the current crisis, indeed, the Lector had only a few days prior seen a letter from the Count of Stirland asking to buy the contracts of any mercenary bands employed in other provinces.
The Lector set his hammer back on its ring at his belt and pointed, "Look there, we are discovered, let us go down to meet them."
Indeed, trumpets had sounded and the camp spurred to life as the party descended the hill, splashing through a small brook, icy water flicking up from their horses' hooves, the Lector flinching slightly when a drop landed on his neck.
They approached, and the gates of the encampment opened to admit them, a man in priestly robes waiting within.
The man was slight, he had the shaven head of a Sigmarite, but bore no weapon, so he was certainly not a Warrior Priest or a Templar.
"And who are you?" the Lector barked out as soon as his party gained the threshold. It had been discussed on the way but it did not seem likely that they would be killed out of hand, and the Lector therefore decided to adopt a more aggressive stance.
The words clearly had their intended effect and the priest looked surprised before collecting himself. He made the sign of the hammer and bowed, "Lord Lector, noble knights," he addressed the party, "You are expected, and I have been commanded to convey you to the Astartes."
"And who are they?"
"Our masters."
The Lector exaggerated a sneer, "You have no master but Sigmar. But coward though you may be, take us where you will."
It was a short journey to the centre of the camp but the Lector used the time well, raking the priest vigorously to get all the information he could as soon as possible, and learning that the priest had come with the Baron's army, only to be captured, and subsequently released. He spoke in glowing terms of the 'Astartes', and the Lector parsed the stories with the scepticism of his Order.
"There's no music here." Sir Kaslain said, directing his mount closer to the Lector's, "Nor women. It's unnatural for an army."
The Lector nodded, he had noticed it too.
At last they came to a large square before a wooden hall. It was rude in the extreme, without decoration save for a crude carving of an eagle above the door, but the Lector's eyes were drawn to three men who stood outside.
The first and most obvious thing was that they were enormous, seven of eight feet at least.
The second was their massiveness, not only were they tall, but they were broad too, immensely muscled and built in the manner of adherents of the Blood God, their necks, arms, and calves bulging. Even their faces were enormous, their jaws strong and their brows clear. It was like looking at a man the size of an ogre, beautiful yet horrifying to see such familiar shapes, indeed, such handsome faces, spread over such a large canvas.
The third thing was their garb, which was unusual also. The height and the size had been one thing, but each wore yellow cloth of great workmanship and richness. Indeed, when the Lector looked more closely he saw it shone. Could it be cloth-of-gold? It shone in the sunlight, surcoats, actually a sort of short robe, ending in wide sleeves at their elbows and in skirt above their knees. Their feet were bare, and they wore no armour whatsoever.
Their weapons were appropriately sized, once more unnatural in their size, and terrible in their potency. The centre man, the leader certainly, bore a sword the size of one of the Black Guard's greatswords, yet he wore it on his hip as if to wield it in a single hand. The second carried a bow, and on his back was a quiver of arrows large enough to be spears in a normal man's hand, while the third bore a dagger the size of a sword on his hip, and a staff of some black material, obsidian perhaps, topped with an ornament of jade, once again an eagle.
Though the Lector was a battle-hardened man, having combatted the evils of the Empire for decades, to be before these men was to be before the altar of Sigmar in the Cathedral of Nuln, or to be under the gaze of a griffon or dragon. It was terrible indeed, and as he looked into the eyes of the Astartes he could see how they'd imposed such discipline on the men of the camp.
"I am the Lector of Wolfenburg." the same announced, "And I have come to find out who you are and what purpose you have in this province."
The Astartes smiled.
"We are the Celestial Lions, and we have come to rule you."
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