The Blood Runs Cold (Warhammer Fantasy Vampire Pirate Quest)

You squared your jaw and let your hand tightly grasp the book at your hip. This was a sign for sure, and it'd be disrespectful to ignore it. "We're heading to the walls," You told your companions determinedly. They exchanged unsure looks, but nodded and followed in your wake. Their weapons were out and ready to fight, but the soldiers fleeing from the walls seemed very unwilling to do so in comparison. Many of them even decided to try their luck and dive into side alleys, anything to avoid your approach.

But even if they had dared stand in your way, it wouldn't matter. You'd still cut through either way.

You reached and climbed the stairs to the walls just in time for a familiar figure to appear on top of the stacked zombies. Flammel looked like a cat that had gotten some fine cream, giving a little dainty hop that certainly contrasted with the groaning zombies that had lifted her up. "Oh yes, I will accept praise and adoration for my genius now!" She declared and held out a hand almost daintily. "Please, give this cute prodigy the due she is deserved!"

"As soon as we drive off the Bretonnians, perhaps," Medb suggested and pointed to the approaching knights forming up. "I don't think your zombies are quite a match for armored elite cavalry."

"That," Flammel swiveled around and glared hatefully at the interruption to her vengeance, "is a bothersome disruption to my experiment. Bah! I'll turn them into feed, and give that to their steeds!"

"We're a bit far north for that," Pierre commented with a shrug. "Heard those Carcassonne folk do it with Orc-flesh, only because they have too much of it. But if they were here, we'd be even more trouble because they're damn good fighters. These Knights of the Realm instead look like they've been getting a little too comfortable." There was clear disdain in his voice that indicated what he thought about these fellow knights, which you supposed helped him justify any action against them. Maybe it'd even be a charity to whip them back into shape.

You shook your head and refocused on the situation at hand. There was a brief moment of hesitation, then you took out the coded prayer book to Verena and showed it to the scowling necromancer. "We might have a way to see them off." You quickly explained the idea of giving her hordes the ability to wield gunpowder and Flammel's expression morphed from annoyed anger to cautious curiosity.

She had a few words to say once you were done explaining the gist of it all. "What in the world? Zombies with fine motor skills, really?" Flammel snapped her fingers and one of the shambling undead came over to her side, where she showed off the very stiff and non-responsive fingers. "What you're talking about isn't just a matter of giving it more Dhar, gods know I've tried. You're talking about something that is positively alien."

(Live Study: 51 +17 (Learning) +5 (Magesight Observations) +15 (Cute Genius) -10 (Lustria Ignorance) = 78)

"That's the thing- it's nothing made by a human. We've been going about it in that paradigm, but what is actually needed is a total shift," You argued back with a shake of the book. "We have to think not like humans, but like those found across the Great Ocean in Lustria, those ancients who made the Lizardsmen."

"Across the endless sea?!" She mumbled before eventually snatching the book from your hands and opening it to skim it through. "A prayer book, like you mentioned, written to a deity of law and order. Knowledge, contained and locked within a tome...could she be related to Daora?"

(The Scales: 71)
(Religious Connection: 57 +17 (Learning) +5 (The Scales) = 79)

Your eyes widened when one of your aunt's old lessons surfaced, namely one talking about the connection between the old gods and the new pantheon. "She is, or at least it's been speculated to be. The two share many traits, and the Cult of Verena surfaced around the time the Cult of Daora was realized defunct," You recalled with a bite of the thumb. "It's in fact one of the first lessons in self-reflection that followers of Verena are taught- to recognize the evolution of the past to the present self."

"Admiral. Hurry-quick," Thankit urged from where he warily eyed the approaching Bretonnians.

"Hush, giant rat. We're unraveling a mystery of the world," Flammel muttered and you noticed her tongue stick out of her lips in deep thought. "Daora, Daora, Daora. Her followers liked to encode their tomes with a cipher that I've seen. I think, looking through this, it's possible. No, it's almost certainly it, but I'm still confused."

You hissed but heeded your Helmsman's warning. "Show me," You ordered and she obliged, sliding over to you and showing you the pages she had gone over. Your eyes scanned the words while she decoded the passages to unravel a new riddle. "Zahri's really making me work for this, but he knows damn well that this is dangerous knowledge in the wrong hands." Your eyes flicked over now to the zombie controller suspiciously, wondering if perhaps this definitely was one of those cases.

All Flammel did was smile and tilt her head in a way that probably was supposed to be alluring rather than childish. You rolled your eyes and decided to just let your future self clean up that mess. "It's a series of shorthand observations about various sea monsters parts, perhaps those he hunted with Captain Rebecca. But there are too many entries, some of these must be fake."

"The fakes are what likely have the answer, but what is the meaning?" She questioned with a furrowed brow. "What's the significance behind the heart of an undead whale? Don't tell me that we'll need one of those, it'll be far too long to get one-"

"It's the Winds!" Medb interrupted excitedly, slamming into your side to screen the pages. "Admiral, he's talking about the Winds associated behind each animal part. Which means that there, buried in there, are what colors to tug at to restructure zombies!"

"A formula, but one I don't know," You admitted with a growl. "I can't imagine this is compatible with what I know to raise Wights."

"Ah, but you so happen to know a genius who does know how to call the undead!" Flammel cackled and held up her hand. At once, half the zombies on the walls stiffened, then fell down when she abruptly cut them off from her power. The other stumbled into a basic holding position that would try to protect the spellcasters while they worked. "I will raise them again, but you will need to restructure the spell when it passes from me. I don't recognize enough of the code to do it myself. But surely you can do so?"

"I can but," You coughed, slightly embarrassed. "My magic isn't that great. I might mess up."

"Then allow me to help." Medb insisted and you turned to her, a protest on your lips. "Admiral, it's just a bit of Dhar. If Gwenhyr could channel just a bit of it at times, I should be fine. That's why I was confident about you feeding from me."

You studied her determined eyes before giving a nod. "Then let's do it. Thankit, Pierre, watch out for us." The two nodded and you closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Flammel, do it."


She wove the spell almost so nonchalantly and effortlessly, not even flinching when an errant spark leapt close to her face. The Dhar surged and pushed out from her fingers, forming invisible strings that shot out to the nearest bodies. Yet before they made contact, you acted.


The blackened mass that passed for your soul yawned and all that dark magic was sucked towards you to shape and rebind. You tugged harshly, gritting your teeth as you ripped apart the well-tested spellwork and shoved in your new observations. What was once just pure darkness found itself suddenly being shoveled in elements of many different winds, each of them giving new tints to the Dhar that was almost like a darkened kaleidoscope. It was a formula that would normally overload the spell and cause it to fall apart, or even detonate catastrophically according to common teachings across all the disciplines of magic.

Yet that was where Medb came in, her potential power as a Spellweaver coming through. She gently wove a strand to wrap it all together in a combined package, a near-blinding and dazzling combination of colors that could possibly be her people's form of Qhaysh. You watched her do it with your Sight in awe, a part of you wondering if perhaps Dhar could replicate the effect. Her contribution melded with the unstable spell and forced it to remain together, an alien construct that could not- should not- work. It was a blasphemy that was akin to holding the barrel of a pistol to the Warp and yelling for it to work or else.

So deprived of all options, it did.

The winds warped and twisted, churning about to form the so radically different structure you had saw onboard Red Buccaneer. Only now did you release your grip on the spell and allow it to flow forth, watching it leap and surge into the corpses strew about. They twitched and stood up, showing at first no sign of any difference between that of their comrades.

Then Thankit casually tossed one of them a discarded rifle and they caught it, fingers wrapping fully around the barrel.

Flammel watched in amazement when one by one, her zombies sluggishly picked up firearms and checked them for rounds. Her eyes widened when one of them was empty and not only did the walking corpse recognize it, but also begin to reload with a found kit. "I don't believe it," She sputtered, staring at her hand. "I...I'm still feeding them Dhar and I can feel like I can stop their motion at any time. But they're using weapons I've never touched before, let alone know how to use!"

You gave a weak grin, slightly drained from the effort but already recovering. "Maybe it had to do with something about our interference. We do happen to be two enthusiasts of black powder. Maybe even three, Verena knows she's insane to be two in one."

"Handguns for everybody!" Medb cackled, holding up two rifles to hand towards some zombies. "Arm the mob! We'll give them shoes next!"

"See what I mean?" You tiredly said and grunted when you used a bit of the growing ambient energies to reinvigorate yourself. "Much better. Now then, let's see who will win now- a cavalry charge against a wall of guns. I trust you'll enjoy being on the opposite side this time."

Flammel could only laugh darkly, just in time for a loud horn to sound out to herald the moment the Bretonnian knights began their advance.

(Armored Charge: 95 +20 (Bretonnia) -10 (Golden Goose) = 105)
(Zombie Volley: 71 +20 (High Ground) +15 (Armed Mob) = 106)

In spite of Pierre's comments and expectations, there still was a good reason why Bretonnia had at least stood through the ages in spite of corruption and avarice within its noble defenders. They were still, at the end of the day, elite and armored warriors on mighty warhorses. Most of all, not a single one of them was without their own experience at combat firsthand, their traditions demanding that Knight Errants seek out their own glory first before ascending to become landholders.

While you had been talking and counseling with Flammel on matters of religion and magic, the knights had used the time well to make their own preparations. From your position on the walls, you could see them gather and form what looked like a triangle, something that was confirmed by your Troop Officer a moment later. "So at least they know the flying wedge to charge with," He commented with a reluctant approving nod. "But any Bretonnian at least worth their wine could do that. Now comes how well they actually cut through."

The charge finally collided with the shambling masses of remaining zombies at the base of the walls and you winced at the way bodies were sent flying. The feeling only got worst with every single rank that was penetrated through, the risen serfs trampled underfoot or pierced through by steed and rider alike. "Shockingly well, it turns out," You hissed and looked to Flammel. "But when they slow, I encourage you to order a volley."

The necromancer who had looked ready to leap down and began attacking the knights was jolted from her temper and blinked. "Volley?"

"Tell them to all fire at once," Medb explained while leaning over to get a better look. "Get ready. They're beginning to lose momentum."

"They'll likely look to wheel about and get out to perform another charge," Pierre warned. "Catch them in the moment they decide to withdraw. Quickly now, or you'll lose more."

Flammel looked between your subordinates with a sour expression at being told what to do, but obliged. She raised her hand and focused, the gesture mirrored by her new complement of gunpowder zombies all raising their weapons and resting them against the battlements. Perhaps it was their simultaneous movement that drew the attention of the knights below or perhaps it was their charge finally bleeding out, but it was at that moment that the Bretonnians finally pulled at the reins to try and come about to withdraw.

It was too late. "Fire!" Medb cried out and Flammel dropped her hand. You felt the wind cry when an entire wall filled with zombies gunners pulled at triggers with dexterity beyond what they normally should have, an alien and strange enchantment that would have undead masters across the world cry out in want and greed. It was knowledge from shores far from here, wrought by hands inhuman, and employed by forces most dark.

The Bretonnians would likely certainly claim so when their leading knights in the charge suddenly fell from their saddles, perforated by dozens of holes. Some of their steeds followed shortly after, letting out bestial screams from the lead bullets now wedged in them. Warrior and warhorse, if they survived, were not for long when the remaining zombies around the base of the walls took advantage of their wounded opponents and descended upon them.

Those further back in the charge were able to escape most of the volley and regroup, milling about in shock and confusion briefly at the sudden loss of their vanguard. Maybe it was even some of their leaders, with any luck. That would hopefully have them reconsidering what was clearly a situation out of their scope.

(Bretonnian Morale: 75 +15 (Sworn Protectors) +5 (Charge Instincts) -6 (Volley) = 89)

Apparently not, given the way several were waving lances about and pointing back at the settlement. "They're just going to keep attacking until either we or they are dead," You realized with a groan. "Even if it's hopeless, they'll carry out their oaths to the very end."

"At least they have the nobility to die like a knight," Pierre told and turned away, not even giving a second look back to them while he stared at something else. "Though, Admiral, we might have a problem."

"What?"

(Rolling the Path…)

"Defenders rally-regroup," Thankit summarized for your benefit. "Likely attack-assault to take back their walls. Attack-assault from both sides," He grimly pointed out and you cursed. The walls, which had been an advantageous position, was now encircled from without and within. How vexing...but it was also an opportunity for this to arrive at the finale.

"Their leaders are likely the ones behind regrouping the routed," You slowly enunciated and saw Medb's head snap over to lock on you. "They are also still jumpy and afraid, regardless of whatever was used to coax them back into line. Which means that potentially, all we need to do is apply pressure to drive them off."

"Pressure that we can do by killing the leaders," Your Quartermaster growled, checking her pistols. "I'm with you, Admiral. Let's do it."

"Much as I am confident our merry band are talented individuals all, we'd be badly outnumbered," Pierre warned, surprisingly the voice of reason now. "We need at least others to draw the soldiers away from their leaders so that we can strike. Lady Flammel, could you spare us some?"

Already she was shaking her head. "Looking at the way these stupid tin cans are fighting, I need every single body under my control to hold them off," She admitted with a sore growl. "I can't possibly raise anymore, not without risking the Perils. A genius does have limits if she doesn't want to ruin her perfect body!"

You recalled that there was indeed usually a limit to how much Dhar one could spare to feed their minions, at least without risking catastrophe. It looked like Flammel had reached her limit, and was definitely unwilling to push any further under these conditions. Though you did want to point out that if you lost without those numbers, then she would definitely be cornered here on the walls between the Imperials and Bretonnians. If only there was another person around who could raise zombies!

A moment and realization later, you wanted to hurl yourself off the walls in embarrassment. You settled for just slamming your hand into your face, and could almost hear an echo of it in your head from where Verena was surely exasperated with your willful ignorance. With a shake of the head, you waved off the curious looks from your officers and closed your eyes in focus. While it had been quite recent, you did need to focus to try and recall how to replicate your efforts.


Carolina has gained Channeling experience.


(???: 68 +12 (Intrigue) +16 (Medb) = 96)

The soldiers were spooked badly, he knew. First, it was the undead that shambled forth from their graves to claw at their walls, a ghastly force that seemingly never ended. But the wall's defenders had guns, training, and plenty of ammo. They also had a cannon tower that could easily obliterate entire ranks of the zombies, destroying them so thoroughly that whoever their wicked master was could not reanimate from. That had given them a nice shot of morale, along with the news that a messenger pigeon had been sent out. Surely soon, the Bretonnian landlords would come and help purge them of this wicked evil.

Then the cannon tower exploded and everything went wrong. While many blamed it on the wicked chance for gunpowder to backfire, a few even going so far as to say the Gods were punishing them, the settlement's lord had a different idea. Some of the survivors had mentioned a small incursion of a team emerging from the sewers and fighting before disappearing into the town's streets. This was shortly before the towers had mysteriously detonated. There clearly was perhaps some foul play going on from an unknown group of skilled individuals, perhaps even adventurers.

So he wasn't surprised when the rallied formation of defenders entered an open square, only to find four individuals seemingly relaxing about the center. Immediately, the order was given and the nervous but disciplined troops fanned out, readying rifles and taking aim at the nonchalant group. The way they looked uncaring at the way they were surrounded sent a chill down his spine and he glanced towards the others for advice.

The priest was the first to speak, his voice deep like the depths he worshiped. "They are heretics, my lord. Without a doubt. I would encourage tying them up, and casting them to the sea to let Manaan take their souls. He shall appreciate them so and bless our efforts."

"You going to waste good labor like that, umgi?" The Dawi barked angrily, hefting what looked like a blunderbuss. "They destroyed my tower, and that's a strike against me! I'll work them to the bone first to settle the grudge before you do with them what may!"

While the two bickered, the eyes of the town lord slid over to the one individual who had remained silent all the while, the elderly woman tightly gripping a flaming staff with a far-away look with blank eyes that saw nothing. Yet she spoke frightening words that seemed to actually reflect the situation. "They are dangerous. They are determined. They are...familiar."

"I should very well hope so," Medb called out with a growl. In a single smooth motion, she palmed a pistol and aimed it straight at the revealed leaders. "I recognize you two from that day. So I hope you realize that this bullet's been a long time coming for your trespass against the realm of the Wood Elves."

The wizard simply stared while the lord snarled and stepped up, drawing a longsword with one hand and hefting a shield in the other. "You're insane. I've not the slightest idea of whatever you're talking about, but you're with those monsters. So that's enough for me!" He slammed blade against shield to create a loud crash. "I will protect my home, my family, my people against the darkness that trespasses on this sacred ground! Are you with me?!"

This was directed to the soldiers who raised a hand and shouted in solidarity, the other notably keeping the rifles pointed at the intruders. You glanced to Medb, whose arm was now shaking from anger. "You dare claim innocence? That you are in the right?" She whispered, sparks of energy leaping from her trembling body. "When you kill and loot our woods, it's just but when we come to you, it's self-defense? You bastard!"

"Mad! The wutelgi is mad!" The Dawi cackled gleefully and readied. "I've no qualms about killing her then!"

"Assuming she will even live after the first volly," The Priest growled and gestured. "End this face, my lord. Fire."

"You're right, let's end this," You casually declared and snapped your fingers. "Fire away."

(Pirate Ambush: 2 +20 (Total Surprise) = 22)
(Hold the Line: 92 -10 (Unsettled Fear) = 82)

From around the square, hidden in the buildings, shots rang out at the shocked defenders. This was followed by several loud crashes when your risen undead stormed forward, swinging bayonets attached to their rifles. The living let out shouts of surprise and horror, their aim well and truly spoiled when they beheld the walking corpses of their fellow soldiers.

But they regrouped swiftly, almost heroically so. The Priest of Mann drew a cutlass to cut apart some of them while the Dawi's blunderbuss bellowed to send a group flying. The lord fought grimly, hesitating at some times to strike at his own reanimated people but his magical aide had no qualm. She burned them all to ash without hesitation, only stopping to wheeze when the smoke seemingly overcame her at times. It appeared she didn't have the best constitution at her age. Their combined actions were enough though rallying the defenders into holding their ground while they fought grimly against their former comrades.

You clucked your tongue, disappointed. It looked like your first batch of zombies weren't enough, but that was fine. They were keeping the soldiers occupied for a time, leaving a brief moment to perhaps get stuck in. Your own side had their weapons ready and looked ready to leap in, just waiting for your word on what to prioritize.

Issue out assignments and orders for this fight.
-[ ] [Assignment] The Imperial Lord
--[X] Medb. She seems to harbor special hatred for this one, and will focus all her efforts into dueling him. Maybe striking him down would break the morale once and for all.
--[ ] Officer
-[ ] [Assignment] The Engineer Dawi
--[ ] Officer
-[ ] [Assignment] The Fire Wizard
--[ ] Officer
-[ ] Assignment] The Priest of Mann
--[ ] Officer
-[ ] Assignment] The Living Soldiers (Optional)
--[ ] Officer

- Carolina finally actually doing magic, and all it took was a cute tutor. What does that say about her?
- Damn, that ambush roll after all that set up. So it means that the zombies will likely be only able to hold the solders off briefly before they are struck down, depending on how the dice go. If any of your characters finish their fight, they'll focus on keeping the soldiers off the rest. Alternatively, you could focus down the soldiers first but risk their characters double teaming against one of yours. Tis your choice.