Exactly are the title suggests. A cheeky space mammal decides to screw with an intensifying American election campaign. Hilarity and universal disruption ensues.
A Campaign Warpath: A Warhammer Fantasy 2016 Election Story
- Thread starter BBadolato
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Part 1: Libertarian Autocrats
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
There's a disclaimer at the end so, please read that before you post.
May 31st, 2016
Orlando, Florida
'Breathing? Why am I breathing?' A lone figure awoke with a gasp, heavily breathing as if they had not breathed in years.
'What is this place?' The figure looked around and saw a room with a wide black reflective surface in front of them, and another reflective surface, and what appears to be a bunch of dressers.
The figure looked and realized there on some form of bed, but that, and what looked to be portholes but with glass in front of them along with some strange furnishings in front of them. However, what the figure could not stop staring at was their light colored skin They never had white skin, only tan skin.
'I live, but this is not my body. What in Ptra's name is going on here?' Before the figure could continue any further they saw a piece of parchment that appeared to shine upon touching it, a flurry of memories that were not their own flooded their mind.
'Who is Gary Johnson, and why is he running for Presidency if likes this vertical chariot called a bicycle? The person's thoughts soon turned towards that parchment, no paper they were and now realized they could read.
Congratulations, Participant
You have been chosen to inhabit this body and take over this person's role for the presidential election of a nation called The United States of America in a world called Earth. However, as a consequence, the person whose body you now inhabit is also in your body as well. You have been given knowledge of your new self, political positions, and how this new world works, and vice versa.
Best Wishes,
Anatoly the Alien Space Bat.
'I Settra, King of Kings of Khemri will not be forced by some flying mammal into a foolish political contest without getting my revenge.' Settra thought as anger became visible across his "new" face. 'At least when I was dead I was still a King.'
Settra had taken the time to engage in preparing himself for the public, apparently, these people had something called plumbing that allowed them to have water on command. Even with what Settra understood this world's technology seemed almost magical if lacking in appearance for Settra's taste.
Settra had gotten himself dressed when he had heard a knock on the door. Upon opening the door he saw it was his Vice Presidential running mate William or Bill Weld.
"Gary, it's nice to see you, do things feel strange to you after we won the nomination?" Bill asked.
"Strange how?" Settra grew suspicious, if this person was not who they were saying as well.
"Like you could remember a world filled with demons, monsters, and undead vampires that supposedly originated in a place similar to Ancient Egypt."
'Ancient Egypt?' Settra thought about his newfound memories. Ancient Egypt seemed far too close to Khemri for his liking, Kings seeking immortality, living in a desert. Apparently this world did have not real monsters only men. Then again from this world's history, the only thing separating their petty tyrants from Nagash was no magic.
"Lets us say we did, who do you remember yourself as." Settra decided to play along.
"Karl Franz von Holswig-Schliestein, Prince of Reikland and Emperor of the Sigmarite Empire. Yourself?" Bill said with strangely authoritative manner.
"Settra the Imperishable, King of Khemi. Although I could say more titles, it would not be worthwhile. Do you know my "friend" Anatoly by any chance?"
Bill Weld, or rather Karl Franz's eyes widen in realization. Settra took this be confirmation, that this 'Emperor' came from his world as well.
"Why us, and why for an election? Dealing with the Elector Counts is wearying enough, and there's only nine of them." This person who claimed to be Franz sighed deeply.
"You are familiar with this foolishness?" Settra asked incredulously that a monarch would have to negotiate and barter with his subjects like some glorified merchant.
"Yes, in order to become Emperor I had to be elected among eleven electors. If this is anything like back home we have a lot of promises, intrigue, and debating to deal with."
A revolting thought had hit Settra. He and this 'Emperor' Karl Franz, they were apart of the Libertarian Party and had to support its values. Settra supposed that this was some cruel jest of irony by the gods, A great and mighty king forced to support freedom for all.
"The politics of this world appears to be something else, we are in a fringe political party, but we are the formal first party that is decided in starting our campaign the rest have primaries to get through. It looks like our opposition will be an old guard politician with her running mate providing some difference, a newcomer with unusual if at times base style, and someone meant to appeal their donors, and the last two they seem well-meaning but like us are fringe."
"Lovely." Settra deadpanned.
"I hope you have some ideas to help us, Your Majesty?" Karl asked not hiding his annoyance at Settra's tone.
"Us?" Settra only glared at other man. "I am to lead this country and you are to follow in my much reduced but still impressive greatness." Settra declared.
"Of course, so if this universe's theory of evolution is true, then you are somehow the missing link between man and elf." Settra gave the Emperor a smug look.
"Heh, I am much greater than any man or elf. So when should we start this insipid competition?"
"As soon as we can get used to at least a fraction of this strange, yet familiar world." Settra gave a nod in agreement as both men set out for the task in front of them.
2502 IC [1]
Khemri, Nehekara
The figure of Settra the Imperishable stirred from a temporary period of inactivity, although it was not Settra the Imperishable, but Gary Johnson.
What is this? Why do I feel so light and? Gary did not continue their thought as they looked at their hands, or rather their bones.
"What the Hell?" Gary's new voice seemed deep. "How is any of this possible." Gary said astonished as he looked himself over, as he moved his mummified limbs. However, he noticed something shining and picked it up, as strange memories began to enter his mind.
"Why am I this Settra the Imperishable? Does this mean, he's in my body?" Gary said out loud before a realization hit him.
'Well, I never really thought I had a chance to win anyway, as long he doesn't eat any gluten or kill anybody, or get me arrested for God or Ptra knows what.' [2]
More images began to enter Gary's mind as he tried to grasp more of this unwelcome situation, to say the least.
'What kind of world is this? Magic is real, along with demons, and vampires, gods and I'm in the body of some tyrannical scumbag, who sacrificed two of his kids to become immortal. Said scumbag got his immortality, because of an even greater monster, whose lackey is still alive and, well, dead and kicking. All in what looks like Ancient Egypt, if everyone was dead." All the while an annoyed look was on what remained of Settra's, now Johnson's new face.
'Well, what am I going to do? This place is ruled by Kings who cannot die so changing things too much is out of the question, and I have no clue to reverse this.' Gary thought he looked at his now mummified form.'
Eventually, Gary left the great pyramid he was in, and he looked out in awe. It was one thing to remember something it was another thing to go see it.
"This is amazing, it's almost like stepping back in time." Gary turned around to look back on the Pyramid, "I've scaled the seven summits but the view alone must be amazing." The look of wonder Johnson had soon became one of despair as he turned to see skeleton workers attending to long faded monuments "But this was a civilization once, and now it's some cruel imitation." An unusual resolve found itself building up in Gary. "I could do this Settra one better, and finally, defeat this Arkhan the Black. That requires facing down everyone and their dead mother, literally for that to work. It cannot be the worst thing, well worse than being an undying corpse." The new and reluctant monarch let out a sigh. "But is it really right to go play conqueror amongst the dead?" [3]
Johnson returned to sit on his new throne to think of all now theoretical headaches he would probably have to go through.
2502 IC
Altdorf, The Sigmarite Empire
Karl Franz sat upon his throne in the Imperial capital of Altdorf, or Rather William 'Bill' Weld.
'I still have no idea why I'm even here, yet I find myself playing Emperor and it really doesn't seem too bad, for the time anyway. I do not have full authority and am accountable to the people, and these Elector-Counts, who elected 'me' based on integrity and some pretty decent politicking. So I guess I do not have to worry about things going south on my end. Outside of Reikland'
Bill soon frowned as he realized what he would have to face.
'It would be nice if this world didn't have giant rat people we can't talk about, orcs and goblins that just want to kill us, evil Vikings, evil cultists, and Vampires straight out of Hammer Horror that can raise the dead. Well, I am at least young enough to actually fight these things.'
"What can I actually do? Maybe I can sure up tighter relations with Bretonnia and Kislev. That could be a great idea, it isn't much but is a start."
Bill decided he would find a quill, some ink, and an ambassador after he got settled in.
[1] IC is Imperial Coronation or the coronation of Sigmar. It's the standard dating used in the Empire.
[2] Gary Johnson has Celullac disease, so cannot eat gluten.
[3] The Seven Summits are the highest mountains of each continent, Denali in North America, Aconcagua in South America, Vinson Massif in Antarctica, Mount Elbrus in Europe, Mt Kilimanjaro in Africa, Mt Everest in Asia, and Puncak Jaya in New Guinea.
So I've decided to take a crack at rewriting something I've written on AH.com. The first point of business is trying to put things in chronological order this time around, the second merging each pair into one chapter. Mind you working with the Libertarians I always felt was my weakest part of the older versions of this story.
Disclaimer: This timeline was the end result of a humorous joke, that I then had the insane idea to both expand on and then play straight less than a month after the 2016 election. I am not trying to bring real world politics or flame wars of any type into this thread, as stupid as this hope might be so please respect that. I am aiming for some political changes in-universe for both worlds, and obligatory trans-universal angst. While there may some jokes at some candidates' expense, I do plan on treating them as human beings, even if some of them are not going to be completely human for a while, so I'm not writing real world people to solely take the piss out of them.
May 31st, 2016
Orlando, Florida
'Breathing? Why am I breathing?' A lone figure awoke with a gasp, heavily breathing as if they had not breathed in years.
'What is this place?' The figure looked around and saw a room with a wide black reflective surface in front of them, and another reflective surface, and what appears to be a bunch of dressers.
The figure looked and realized there on some form of bed, but that, and what looked to be portholes but with glass in front of them along with some strange furnishings in front of them. However, what the figure could not stop staring at was their light colored skin They never had white skin, only tan skin.
'I live, but this is not my body. What in Ptra's name is going on here?' Before the figure could continue any further they saw a piece of parchment that appeared to shine upon touching it, a flurry of memories that were not their own flooded their mind.
'Who is Gary Johnson, and why is he running for Presidency if likes this vertical chariot called a bicycle? The person's thoughts soon turned towards that parchment, no paper they were and now realized they could read.
Congratulations, Participant
You have been chosen to inhabit this body and take over this person's role for the presidential election of a nation called The United States of America in a world called Earth. However, as a consequence, the person whose body you now inhabit is also in your body as well. You have been given knowledge of your new self, political positions, and how this new world works, and vice versa.
Best Wishes,
Anatoly the Alien Space Bat.
'I Settra, King of Kings of Khemri will not be forced by some flying mammal into a foolish political contest without getting my revenge.' Settra thought as anger became visible across his "new" face. 'At least when I was dead I was still a King.'
Settra had taken the time to engage in preparing himself for the public, apparently, these people had something called plumbing that allowed them to have water on command. Even with what Settra understood this world's technology seemed almost magical if lacking in appearance for Settra's taste.
Settra had gotten himself dressed when he had heard a knock on the door. Upon opening the door he saw it was his Vice Presidential running mate William or Bill Weld.
"Gary, it's nice to see you, do things feel strange to you after we won the nomination?" Bill asked.
"Strange how?" Settra grew suspicious, if this person was not who they were saying as well.
"Like you could remember a world filled with demons, monsters, and undead vampires that supposedly originated in a place similar to Ancient Egypt."
'Ancient Egypt?' Settra thought about his newfound memories. Ancient Egypt seemed far too close to Khemri for his liking, Kings seeking immortality, living in a desert. Apparently this world did have not real monsters only men. Then again from this world's history, the only thing separating their petty tyrants from Nagash was no magic.
"Lets us say we did, who do you remember yourself as." Settra decided to play along.
"Karl Franz von Holswig-Schliestein, Prince of Reikland and Emperor of the Sigmarite Empire. Yourself?" Bill said with strangely authoritative manner.
"Settra the Imperishable, King of Khemi. Although I could say more titles, it would not be worthwhile. Do you know my "friend" Anatoly by any chance?"
Bill Weld, or rather Karl Franz's eyes widen in realization. Settra took this be confirmation, that this 'Emperor' came from his world as well.
"Why us, and why for an election? Dealing with the Elector Counts is wearying enough, and there's only nine of them." This person who claimed to be Franz sighed deeply.
"You are familiar with this foolishness?" Settra asked incredulously that a monarch would have to negotiate and barter with his subjects like some glorified merchant.
"Yes, in order to become Emperor I had to be elected among eleven electors. If this is anything like back home we have a lot of promises, intrigue, and debating to deal with."
A revolting thought had hit Settra. He and this 'Emperor' Karl Franz, they were apart of the Libertarian Party and had to support its values. Settra supposed that this was some cruel jest of irony by the gods, A great and mighty king forced to support freedom for all.
"The politics of this world appears to be something else, we are in a fringe political party, but we are the formal first party that is decided in starting our campaign the rest have primaries to get through. It looks like our opposition will be an old guard politician with her running mate providing some difference, a newcomer with unusual if at times base style, and someone meant to appeal their donors, and the last two they seem well-meaning but like us are fringe."
"Lovely." Settra deadpanned.
"I hope you have some ideas to help us, Your Majesty?" Karl asked not hiding his annoyance at Settra's tone.
"Us?" Settra only glared at other man. "I am to lead this country and you are to follow in my much reduced but still impressive greatness." Settra declared.
"Of course, so if this universe's theory of evolution is true, then you are somehow the missing link between man and elf." Settra gave the Emperor a smug look.
"Heh, I am much greater than any man or elf. So when should we start this insipid competition?"
"As soon as we can get used to at least a fraction of this strange, yet familiar world." Settra gave a nod in agreement as both men set out for the task in front of them.
2502 IC [1]
Khemri, Nehekara
The figure of Settra the Imperishable stirred from a temporary period of inactivity, although it was not Settra the Imperishable, but Gary Johnson.
What is this? Why do I feel so light and? Gary did not continue their thought as they looked at their hands, or rather their bones.
"What the Hell?" Gary's new voice seemed deep. "How is any of this possible." Gary said astonished as he looked himself over, as he moved his mummified limbs. However, he noticed something shining and picked it up, as strange memories began to enter his mind.
"Why am I this Settra the Imperishable? Does this mean, he's in my body?" Gary said out loud before a realization hit him.
'Well, I never really thought I had a chance to win anyway, as long he doesn't eat any gluten or kill anybody, or get me arrested for God or Ptra knows what.' [2]
More images began to enter Gary's mind as he tried to grasp more of this unwelcome situation, to say the least.
'What kind of world is this? Magic is real, along with demons, and vampires, gods and I'm in the body of some tyrannical scumbag, who sacrificed two of his kids to become immortal. Said scumbag got his immortality, because of an even greater monster, whose lackey is still alive and, well, dead and kicking. All in what looks like Ancient Egypt, if everyone was dead." All the while an annoyed look was on what remained of Settra's, now Johnson's new face.
'Well, what am I going to do? This place is ruled by Kings who cannot die so changing things too much is out of the question, and I have no clue to reverse this.' Gary thought he looked at his now mummified form.'
Eventually, Gary left the great pyramid he was in, and he looked out in awe. It was one thing to remember something it was another thing to go see it.
"This is amazing, it's almost like stepping back in time." Gary turned around to look back on the Pyramid, "I've scaled the seven summits but the view alone must be amazing." The look of wonder Johnson had soon became one of despair as he turned to see skeleton workers attending to long faded monuments "But this was a civilization once, and now it's some cruel imitation." An unusual resolve found itself building up in Gary. "I could do this Settra one better, and finally, defeat this Arkhan the Black. That requires facing down everyone and their dead mother, literally for that to work. It cannot be the worst thing, well worse than being an undying corpse." The new and reluctant monarch let out a sigh. "But is it really right to go play conqueror amongst the dead?" [3]
Johnson returned to sit on his new throne to think of all now theoretical headaches he would probably have to go through.
2502 IC
Altdorf, The Sigmarite Empire
Karl Franz sat upon his throne in the Imperial capital of Altdorf, or Rather William 'Bill' Weld.
'I still have no idea why I'm even here, yet I find myself playing Emperor and it really doesn't seem too bad, for the time anyway. I do not have full authority and am accountable to the people, and these Elector-Counts, who elected 'me' based on integrity and some pretty decent politicking. So I guess I do not have to worry about things going south on my end. Outside of Reikland'
Bill soon frowned as he realized what he would have to face.
'It would be nice if this world didn't have giant rat people we can't talk about, orcs and goblins that just want to kill us, evil Vikings, evil cultists, and Vampires straight out of Hammer Horror that can raise the dead. Well, I am at least young enough to actually fight these things.'
"What can I actually do? Maybe I can sure up tighter relations with Bretonnia and Kislev. That could be a great idea, it isn't much but is a start."
Bill decided he would find a quill, some ink, and an ambassador after he got settled in.
[1] IC is Imperial Coronation or the coronation of Sigmar. It's the standard dating used in the Empire.
[2] Gary Johnson has Celullac disease, so cannot eat gluten.
[3] The Seven Summits are the highest mountains of each continent, Denali in North America, Aconcagua in South America, Vinson Massif in Antarctica, Mount Elbrus in Europe, Mt Kilimanjaro in Africa, Mt Everest in Asia, and Puncak Jaya in New Guinea.
So I've decided to take a crack at rewriting something I've written on AH.com. The first point of business is trying to put things in chronological order this time around, the second merging each pair into one chapter. Mind you working with the Libertarians I always felt was my weakest part of the older versions of this story.
Disclaimer: This timeline was the end result of a humorous joke, that I then had the insane idea to both expand on and then play straight less than a month after the 2016 election. I am not trying to bring real world politics or flame wars of any type into this thread, as stupid as this hope might be so please respect that. I am aiming for some political changes in-universe for both worlds, and obligatory trans-universal angst. While there may some jokes at some candidates' expense, I do plan on treating them as human beings, even if some of them are not going to be completely human for a while, so I'm not writing real world people to solely take the piss out of them.
Part 2: Pawns Are Moved
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
2502 IC
Nexus of the Black Pyramid,
'Why have the Masters brought me here and what is this pathetic creature in front of me?' The first figure The figure in front of them wore a tattered uniform that seemed vaguely military and broken spectacles on his face and seemed human. They smelled of something close to Skaven produced toxins, and like a charred corpse. Speaking of corpses the speaker looked emaciated and had hollow sunken eyes. They themselves wore a robe and hat adorned with bones and flayed skin,
However, before either figure could talk. They found a rush of memories that seemed unfamiliar to them. One figure saw a world that was almost like their own but looked like it had some Skaven and Dwarfen elements, gas weapons, electric powers, advanced firearms, and flying machines, but not magic. However, it was the only thing worth showing wonder about. All of these other memories were dull, throwing up at the sight of executions they themselves ordered, organized mass murder with no necromancy to make it worthwhile, and some nonsense about proving their race is superior, and their own death.
The other figure saw visions of death and unholy power. They saw corpses rise from their graves at this figure's command, people killed for no real reason but that they needed more fresh material for their armies. Giant Ratmen who wield contraptions that use green fire, that did not look too dissimilar from weapons used in the war, this person bought their human slaves so he could kill them. Then there was a place that seemed like France, but this clearly was not the world they knew. They felt the loss of sanity, and worst they felt the Dark Ones
"Wonderful I'm stuck with an idiot with the same first name as I." The figure wearing the had said aloud in a raspy gravelly voice glaring at one standing. "So Mr. Himmler was it? I know this might be a lot to understand but we are in the realm of Chaos, or at least somewhere close to that abominable fool of a Necromancer, though I do not know why yet . If you know me, then allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Lichemaster Heinrich Kemmler."
"I am wondering why I am stuck with some monster, in some twisted hellscape, which only is a little better than hell itself? You are nothing more than some cruel fiend who sold their own soul for power!" Himmler said.
"A fiend, moi?" Kemmler said feigning offense, before bursting out into laughter before his face turned serious. "You are nothing more than a deluded lunatic, and I was driven to madness left to wander the Grey Mountains once. You claimed to be apart of a superior race, yet all I saw was nothing but mass murder and killing, these Aryans must be no better than brutish Greenskins or Beastmen for they prove their 'superiority' the same way, bloodshed. However what I hate about you most, is that you could not even stomach the butchery you implimented in person daring to hide behind morality and paperwork."
"Your bickering is tiresome, and it was not why you were brought here." A booming brass lunged voice interrupted the two men as they turned to see four figures in front of them.
The first figure looked to be a man with the head of a jackal with blood red fur, it was giving them a look of disdain . The second was strange to make sense of they looked neither entirely male or female appearing to wear a robe that left one side of their chest exposed, that appeared to look masculine while the covered part appeared feminine. The figure appeared to have the skin of a snake, but their face had cat-like features, and even scaled ears, and was giving them a curious look. The third figure appeared to have skin that looked like black chitin, and the eyes of a snake, but the head of a bird with silver feathers. The last figure took on the form of a man with a vulture's head, but they had appeared rotten and diseased, and as far as Kemmler could see curiously unhappy. [1]
Kemmler immediately bowed, and realized he was the only one bowing.
"Bow you fool. You should know who these are and if you do not, they are the Chaos Gods." Kemmler whispered harshly, only for Himmler to join him.
"You are not needed here, hurry up and meet with the miserable 'king' who dwells there." The voice came from the vulture-headed to the seeming surprise of the other three. Their voice sounded sick and full of bile, but in a harsh and guttural tone, and they gestured towards an ominous black colored pyramid.
"You must really hate this place." The androgynous figure said with immense amusement in their voice.
"DO NOT GOAD ME!" The vulture-headed man shouted in a tone, that caused the Jackal-headed figure to smile an almost feral smile. "I despise the Undead, I only agreed to aid Kemmler because the three of you insisted. That arrogant fool in that abominable black crypt got this other soul that will also inhabit Kemmler's body."
"What!?" Both figures said in surprise.
"SILENCE!" The vulture-headed figure screamed both me immediately ceased their protests. "You, stranger go where you are supposed to go, I tire of this place, and I have existed before the concept of time itself." The god said towards Himmler Once you meet with that accused 'King' both of you will be brought back to the material world. So hurry up, I detest this place." Himmler quickly took off towards the black colored pyramid, leaving Kemmler alone with the four figures.
"Why have I been summoned here my masters?"
The Chitin skinned figure spoke first. "For some reason reality between our universe and another has been torn. Before you ask, there are other universes some with deities comparable or even greater than us, as loathe as we are to admit. Our specific plans for the End Times have been 'altered', but you are to seek out the vampire Mannfred von Carstein and guide him into bringing back Nagash, the conflict between Nagash's followers and discord it will sow against the forces of Order, can allow us to win. Succeed and will be rewarded with power for we have roots in another universe, with all of the knowledge, earthly desires, and chance for hands on experimentation you desire. [2]
"I understand, but why is he here?" Kemmler said gesturing to man briskly moving toward the Black Pyramid.
"All I have to do is find the King that lives in this giant black ominous pyramid, so I can share a body with a complete monster. I suppose it beats being in Hell, or something close to it. I don't even know how long it's been since my death." Himmler said aloud, trying to not question the seeming insanity of it all.
Heinrich had made his way towards the Black Pyramid observing that the statues seemed vaguely Egyptian, but with more skulls then he could remember. He stopped with a look of horror as he saw the sight in front him in front of the Black Pyramid stood legions of skeletal warriors bearing arms and armor.
"His Majesty lies within." came a raspy voice as dry as the desert.
"What- what are you?" Himmler said to surprising figure of a mummified corpse with one glowing eye of blue fire.
"Clearly I am not alive in the most conventional sense of the word. Hmph, if you must have an answer I am Nerutep, a Liche Priest of Nehekara. What 'His Majesty' would want with someone like you, only the Gods would know." [2]
Himmler quickly moved toward the entrance of the pyramid to find this king, and hope this nightmare would end. Having made his way inside the structure he soon found a man sitting on a throne. The man had bronze colored skin, and was adorned in golden armor that revealed parts of his arms and legs, despite being a king, this man wore nothing on his head but a stern expression with eyes that seemed to stare into the soul. [3]
"Your Majesty."
"So you are the one who has been sent to me. What is your name?"
"Heinrich Himmler, from Germany." The king gave Himmler a dirty look as if he were offended, as Himmler only smiled weakly in response.
"Your name sounds similar to those accursed primitives of the far north, and a particularly insolent Necromancer. You appear to be an ordinary man. No matter, you are to ensure a promising servant performs their role well. There exists a Vampire named Mannfred von Carstein, arrogant, assured of their own power, and willing to do everything to achieve it. He reminds me of myself, but naturally unable to obtain the same amount of power as I. You must make sure he succeeds in reviving me." The king said in a tone that conveyed a mix of certainty and disinterest.
"But why choose me?"
"You presume I would choose someone who looks like a destitute beggar? I did not. I was only told two things. The first that I would get a particularly black soul to do my bidding, and the second that what ever has brought you here, has brought in others and will bring in more. Who they are, or who they enter I do not know. However I do not intend to leave my resurrection to mere chance."
"I do not even know who you are." Himmler remarked.
Only a few seconds passed as Himmler quickly began to regret those words. The King had stood up glaring, as an unholy glow enveloped his body. Instead of a human wearing armor there was a skeleton as big as a small house wearing purple and black robes, and tall headdress adorned with skulls.
"I am Nagash, Son of Khetep, First and Greatest of all Necromancers, King of Kings of Nehekhara, and eventually the Ruler of the World you are to be sent to. Know this outsider, I can offer some inkling of power. Serve me well and I can offer you eternal life in a body that does not age, but do not let that insipid fool Kemmler, derail the plan. Fail me and I shall vow to make whatever you suffered seem merciful in comparison".
Before Himmler could say anything in response, everything turned white.
2502 IC
Somewhere in Bretonnia
Heinrich Kemmler awoke in the last place he remembered, an inn in an isolated Bretonnian village, whose inhabitants he had just slaughtered.
"Was any of that real?" Kemmler said aloud.
'It must be.' Kemmler's eyes widened in response as he heard a familiar voice in his head.
"Wonderful, I have a fool like you as a traveling companion." Kemmler said irritated.
"Talking to yourself, Old Man you should go back to sleep." Kemmler quickly turned around to see a figure he had the displeasure of seeing several times. The figure wore purple robes with the typical skull motifs of Nehekhara a fake beard and headdress befitting of a king. The figure had eyes of blue balefire, with blacked rotting teeth.
"Ah Arkhan the Black, Nagash's favorite lap dog. Were you stopping by to play Innkeeper? If so I'd like a bowl of Pot-au-feu, and a bottle of Couronne Port please." Kemmler remarked with a tone of false politeness.
"I was sent by my master to find you, he and the Chaos Gods agreed that you would be chosen as a vessel." Arkhan said his face clearly gleeful at Kemmler's suffering.
"Couldn't they have chosen anyone else instead this simpering bore?" Heinrich complained as Arkhan only returned an interested look.
"May I speak with them?"
"Absolutely, No- You fool what are you doing!" Kemmler quickly shouted as he broke out into spasms.
"Uh Your Majesty?" Himmler said giving a nervous tone to Kemmler' gravelly voice, as he had just taken control.
A smile formed across Arkhan's desiccated face.
"Aren't you forgetting to bow?" Arkhan asked, trying to hold back a chuckle.
'Don't you dare, you miserable bastard!' Kemmler mentally shouted, only for Himmler to bow anyway, as the Liche King allowed himself to laugh.
"I trust you know of our mission?" Arkhan asked only for Kemmler's body to violently jerk and twitch.
"My Masters, know what you are trying to do, reviving that relic of a discarded age serves their plans, unfortunately."
"Lovely, I assume you will head out to coax that prideful Von Carstein whelp from Sylvania?" Arkhan questioned.
"In due time, first I must resurrect two of those kids and perhaps a hound I slaughtered, I wish to torment my new friend for daring to bow to you, and Nagash. Also, I was serious about that drink I'm going to need it." Kemmler practically hissed.
So I'm reusing a concept I used in the previous version of this story, except with a little bit more relevant backstory, and introducing some relevant players for this little story much earlier on. Before you ask this idea was long before TNO was a thing, and also hope no one minds an unusually pissed off Nurgle. I'm going to get back to more familiar territory for the next chapters. Don't be afraid to leave me any feedback, or suggestions. I'm posting this so soon, but I will aim for more timely updates, especially since at some point I'm going to work on updates that aren't simple edits.
[1] Considering that for the sake of this story the Chaos Gods and Nagash have loosely aligned goals I wanted them to show up close to where Nagash's spirit dwells, and take on more Nehekaran inspired visages.
Khorne takes on elements of Djaf, the Nehekaran God of Death and War. Slaanesh takes on parts on Asap Nehekharan goddess of Beauty, Magic, and Vengeance intermixed with Basth Nehekharan goddess of Love, Cats, and Grace. Tzeentch is a mix of Skoth God of Thieves, Scorpions, and Poisoners, Qu'aph god of Subtlety and Snakes, and Tahoth, the Scholar God. Nurgle takes on Ualatp the Scavenger God's vulture motifs since Khorne has Djaf. Fittingly enough, there were enough figures in the Nehekaran Pantheon to make the Chaos Gods seem similar enough to their Identities in the Norscan pantheon, The Hound, Serpent, Raven, and Crow respectively.
[2] Liche Priests are powerful members of the Nehekaran Mortuary Cult, who managed to obtain a form of immortality, as their souls are bound to their bodies that should long since decayed.
[3] I took inspiration from the two or so images of Nagash when he was alive from Mike Lee's Nagash series, to aim for something close to it. I'm really fascinated by the concept for some reason.
Nexus of the Black Pyramid,
'Why have the Masters brought me here and what is this pathetic creature in front of me?' The first figure The figure in front of them wore a tattered uniform that seemed vaguely military and broken spectacles on his face and seemed human. They smelled of something close to Skaven produced toxins, and like a charred corpse. Speaking of corpses the speaker looked emaciated and had hollow sunken eyes. They themselves wore a robe and hat adorned with bones and flayed skin,
However, before either figure could talk. They found a rush of memories that seemed unfamiliar to them. One figure saw a world that was almost like their own but looked like it had some Skaven and Dwarfen elements, gas weapons, electric powers, advanced firearms, and flying machines, but not magic. However, it was the only thing worth showing wonder about. All of these other memories were dull, throwing up at the sight of executions they themselves ordered, organized mass murder with no necromancy to make it worthwhile, and some nonsense about proving their race is superior, and their own death.
The other figure saw visions of death and unholy power. They saw corpses rise from their graves at this figure's command, people killed for no real reason but that they needed more fresh material for their armies. Giant Ratmen who wield contraptions that use green fire, that did not look too dissimilar from weapons used in the war, this person bought their human slaves so he could kill them. Then there was a place that seemed like France, but this clearly was not the world they knew. They felt the loss of sanity, and worst they felt the Dark Ones
"Wonderful I'm stuck with an idiot with the same first name as I." The figure wearing the had said aloud in a raspy gravelly voice glaring at one standing. "So Mr. Himmler was it? I know this might be a lot to understand but we are in the realm of Chaos, or at least somewhere close to that abominable fool of a Necromancer, though I do not know why yet . If you know me, then allow me to formally introduce myself, I am Lichemaster Heinrich Kemmler."
"I am wondering why I am stuck with some monster, in some twisted hellscape, which only is a little better than hell itself? You are nothing more than some cruel fiend who sold their own soul for power!" Himmler said.
"A fiend, moi?" Kemmler said feigning offense, before bursting out into laughter before his face turned serious. "You are nothing more than a deluded lunatic, and I was driven to madness left to wander the Grey Mountains once. You claimed to be apart of a superior race, yet all I saw was nothing but mass murder and killing, these Aryans must be no better than brutish Greenskins or Beastmen for they prove their 'superiority' the same way, bloodshed. However what I hate about you most, is that you could not even stomach the butchery you implimented in person daring to hide behind morality and paperwork."
"Your bickering is tiresome, and it was not why you were brought here." A booming brass lunged voice interrupted the two men as they turned to see four figures in front of them.
The first figure looked to be a man with the head of a jackal with blood red fur, it was giving them a look of disdain . The second was strange to make sense of they looked neither entirely male or female appearing to wear a robe that left one side of their chest exposed, that appeared to look masculine while the covered part appeared feminine. The figure appeared to have the skin of a snake, but their face had cat-like features, and even scaled ears, and was giving them a curious look. The third figure appeared to have skin that looked like black chitin, and the eyes of a snake, but the head of a bird with silver feathers. The last figure took on the form of a man with a vulture's head, but they had appeared rotten and diseased, and as far as Kemmler could see curiously unhappy. [1]
Kemmler immediately bowed, and realized he was the only one bowing.
"Bow you fool. You should know who these are and if you do not, they are the Chaos Gods." Kemmler whispered harshly, only for Himmler to join him.
"You are not needed here, hurry up and meet with the miserable 'king' who dwells there." The voice came from the vulture-headed to the seeming surprise of the other three. Their voice sounded sick and full of bile, but in a harsh and guttural tone, and they gestured towards an ominous black colored pyramid.
"You must really hate this place." The androgynous figure said with immense amusement in their voice.
"DO NOT GOAD ME!" The vulture-headed man shouted in a tone, that caused the Jackal-headed figure to smile an almost feral smile. "I despise the Undead, I only agreed to aid Kemmler because the three of you insisted. That arrogant fool in that abominable black crypt got this other soul that will also inhabit Kemmler's body."
"What!?" Both figures said in surprise.
"SILENCE!" The vulture-headed figure screamed both me immediately ceased their protests. "You, stranger go where you are supposed to go, I tire of this place, and I have existed before the concept of time itself." The god said towards Himmler Once you meet with that accused 'King' both of you will be brought back to the material world. So hurry up, I detest this place." Himmler quickly took off towards the black colored pyramid, leaving Kemmler alone with the four figures.
"Why have I been summoned here my masters?"
The Chitin skinned figure spoke first. "For some reason reality between our universe and another has been torn. Before you ask, there are other universes some with deities comparable or even greater than us, as loathe as we are to admit. Our specific plans for the End Times have been 'altered', but you are to seek out the vampire Mannfred von Carstein and guide him into bringing back Nagash, the conflict between Nagash's followers and discord it will sow against the forces of Order, can allow us to win. Succeed and will be rewarded with power for we have roots in another universe, with all of the knowledge, earthly desires, and chance for hands on experimentation you desire. [2]
"I understand, but why is he here?" Kemmler said gesturing to man briskly moving toward the Black Pyramid.
"All I have to do is find the King that lives in this giant black ominous pyramid, so I can share a body with a complete monster. I suppose it beats being in Hell, or something close to it. I don't even know how long it's been since my death." Himmler said aloud, trying to not question the seeming insanity of it all.
Heinrich had made his way towards the Black Pyramid observing that the statues seemed vaguely Egyptian, but with more skulls then he could remember. He stopped with a look of horror as he saw the sight in front him in front of the Black Pyramid stood legions of skeletal warriors bearing arms and armor.
"His Majesty lies within." came a raspy voice as dry as the desert.
"What- what are you?" Himmler said to surprising figure of a mummified corpse with one glowing eye of blue fire.
"Clearly I am not alive in the most conventional sense of the word. Hmph, if you must have an answer I am Nerutep, a Liche Priest of Nehekara. What 'His Majesty' would want with someone like you, only the Gods would know." [2]
Himmler quickly moved toward the entrance of the pyramid to find this king, and hope this nightmare would end. Having made his way inside the structure he soon found a man sitting on a throne. The man had bronze colored skin, and was adorned in golden armor that revealed parts of his arms and legs, despite being a king, this man wore nothing on his head but a stern expression with eyes that seemed to stare into the soul. [3]
"Your Majesty."
"So you are the one who has been sent to me. What is your name?"
"Heinrich Himmler, from Germany." The king gave Himmler a dirty look as if he were offended, as Himmler only smiled weakly in response.
"Your name sounds similar to those accursed primitives of the far north, and a particularly insolent Necromancer. You appear to be an ordinary man. No matter, you are to ensure a promising servant performs their role well. There exists a Vampire named Mannfred von Carstein, arrogant, assured of their own power, and willing to do everything to achieve it. He reminds me of myself, but naturally unable to obtain the same amount of power as I. You must make sure he succeeds in reviving me." The king said in a tone that conveyed a mix of certainty and disinterest.
"But why choose me?"
"You presume I would choose someone who looks like a destitute beggar? I did not. I was only told two things. The first that I would get a particularly black soul to do my bidding, and the second that what ever has brought you here, has brought in others and will bring in more. Who they are, or who they enter I do not know. However I do not intend to leave my resurrection to mere chance."
"I do not even know who you are." Himmler remarked.
Only a few seconds passed as Himmler quickly began to regret those words. The King had stood up glaring, as an unholy glow enveloped his body. Instead of a human wearing armor there was a skeleton as big as a small house wearing purple and black robes, and tall headdress adorned with skulls.
"I am Nagash, Son of Khetep, First and Greatest of all Necromancers, King of Kings of Nehekhara, and eventually the Ruler of the World you are to be sent to. Know this outsider, I can offer some inkling of power. Serve me well and I can offer you eternal life in a body that does not age, but do not let that insipid fool Kemmler, derail the plan. Fail me and I shall vow to make whatever you suffered seem merciful in comparison".
Before Himmler could say anything in response, everything turned white.
2502 IC
Somewhere in Bretonnia
Heinrich Kemmler awoke in the last place he remembered, an inn in an isolated Bretonnian village, whose inhabitants he had just slaughtered.
"Was any of that real?" Kemmler said aloud.
'It must be.' Kemmler's eyes widened in response as he heard a familiar voice in his head.
"Wonderful, I have a fool like you as a traveling companion." Kemmler said irritated.
"Talking to yourself, Old Man you should go back to sleep." Kemmler quickly turned around to see a figure he had the displeasure of seeing several times. The figure wore purple robes with the typical skull motifs of Nehekhara a fake beard and headdress befitting of a king. The figure had eyes of blue balefire, with blacked rotting teeth.
"Ah Arkhan the Black, Nagash's favorite lap dog. Were you stopping by to play Innkeeper? If so I'd like a bowl of Pot-au-feu, and a bottle of Couronne Port please." Kemmler remarked with a tone of false politeness.
"I was sent by my master to find you, he and the Chaos Gods agreed that you would be chosen as a vessel." Arkhan said his face clearly gleeful at Kemmler's suffering.
"Couldn't they have chosen anyone else instead this simpering bore?" Heinrich complained as Arkhan only returned an interested look.
"May I speak with them?"
"Absolutely, No- You fool what are you doing!" Kemmler quickly shouted as he broke out into spasms.
"Uh Your Majesty?" Himmler said giving a nervous tone to Kemmler' gravelly voice, as he had just taken control.
A smile formed across Arkhan's desiccated face.
"Aren't you forgetting to bow?" Arkhan asked, trying to hold back a chuckle.
'Don't you dare, you miserable bastard!' Kemmler mentally shouted, only for Himmler to bow anyway, as the Liche King allowed himself to laugh.
"I trust you know of our mission?" Arkhan asked only for Kemmler's body to violently jerk and twitch.
"My Masters, know what you are trying to do, reviving that relic of a discarded age serves their plans, unfortunately."
"Lovely, I assume you will head out to coax that prideful Von Carstein whelp from Sylvania?" Arkhan questioned.
"In due time, first I must resurrect two of those kids and perhaps a hound I slaughtered, I wish to torment my new friend for daring to bow to you, and Nagash. Also, I was serious about that drink I'm going to need it." Kemmler practically hissed.
So I'm reusing a concept I used in the previous version of this story, except with a little bit more relevant backstory, and introducing some relevant players for this little story much earlier on. Before you ask this idea was long before TNO was a thing, and also hope no one minds an unusually pissed off Nurgle. I'm going to get back to more familiar territory for the next chapters. Don't be afraid to leave me any feedback, or suggestions. I'm posting this so soon, but I will aim for more timely updates, especially since at some point I'm going to work on updates that aren't simple edits.
[1] Considering that for the sake of this story the Chaos Gods and Nagash have loosely aligned goals I wanted them to show up close to where Nagash's spirit dwells, and take on more Nehekaran inspired visages.
Khorne takes on elements of Djaf, the Nehekaran God of Death and War. Slaanesh takes on parts on Asap Nehekharan goddess of Beauty, Magic, and Vengeance intermixed with Basth Nehekharan goddess of Love, Cats, and Grace. Tzeentch is a mix of Skoth God of Thieves, Scorpions, and Poisoners, Qu'aph god of Subtlety and Snakes, and Tahoth, the Scholar God. Nurgle takes on Ualatp the Scavenger God's vulture motifs since Khorne has Djaf. Fittingly enough, there were enough figures in the Nehekaran Pantheon to make the Chaos Gods seem similar enough to their Identities in the Norscan pantheon, The Hound, Serpent, Raven, and Crow respectively.
[2] Liche Priests are powerful members of the Nehekaran Mortuary Cult, who managed to obtain a form of immortality, as their souls are bound to their bodies that should long since decayed.
[3] I took inspiration from the two or so images of Nagash when he was alive from Mike Lee's Nagash series, to aim for something close to it. I'm really fascinated by the concept for some reason.
Part 3: Unholy Alliances
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
July 22nd, 2016
Cleveland, Ohio
Thorgrim Grudgebearer, High King of the Dwarves had just woken up ready to take up the coming days struggles.
he felt strange, his body felt bigger, he got up off this strange bed, sitting a getting a look at his surroundings he saw things that looked fancy, for an umgi. [1]
A feeling of dread began to creep into Thorgrim. What if we were somehow an umgi? He looked and felt a slight sense of relief. His hands weren't all that bigger, but then got off the bed which seemed high and his body much more rotund than usual. Fearing the worse he took a good look in the mirror and screamed in shock.
The umgi's skin was pale, but Thorgrim's horror could only grow as he looked at his face.
'By the Ancestor Gods I'm beardless! Did some elgi and a gor go have a child on this man's head and call it hair?' Thorgrim thought as he felt what was apparently his new head of hair.
After coming to terms or at least trying to, Thorgrim had seen what appeared to be a glowing piece of paper.
Congratulations, Participant
You have been chosen to inhabit this body and take over this person's role for the presidential election of a nation called The United States of America in a world called Earth. However, as a consequence, the person whose body you now inhabit are also in your body as well. You should also see a glowing stone that should give you knowledge of your new self, political positions, and how this new world works.
Best Wishes,
Anatoly the Alien Space Bat.
'Damn this Space Bat,' Thorgrim. 'If I ever get back home this wrong will be avenged.' Thorgrim was stirred out of his thoughts of vengeance by a knock at the door, thinking quickly he grabbed the stone and tried to find suitable clothing to wear.
"Mr. Trump, we have a bit of a situation here." It came from what was some kind of messenger or servant.
Barely having the time to adjust to the flood of memories, he only manages a few words. "I'll be right there." said Thorgrim.
"Sir, Mr. Pence is acting crazy, he just woke up speaking in a weird language, speaking oddly in English, and hiding from the sun." said the aide, a man in what Thorgrim now recognized as a suit and sunglasses.
"I think we've won so much it's made Mike crazy, I'll go talk to him." Thorgrim reassured the man, while still getting used to this person's speaking habits. After making his way towards Pence's suite Thorgrim knocked on the door.
"Come on in." came a voice that seemed to be trying hard to be convincing.
When Thorgrim entered the room, he saw what was his choice for this Umgi office of Vice-President standing in the shade, but he also couldn't help but notice a similar glow that had come from that paper left by that bat. Maybe this Mike Pence was someone else too? Thorgrim was willing to test out an idea.
"Hey Mike, have you ever had this feeling that you're not you, but you have been put here by some kind of strange power, by like some kind of bat? Awful Anatoly I want to call him," Thorgrim said trying to satisfy his suspicions, but not reveal who he is.
Thorgrim thought he saw his 'running mate's' eyes shift into something cold and fierce "No Donald, what on Earth would ever make you think that? Mike Pence responded, taking a step back away from him.
'Damn it all here goes nothing.' Thorgrim hoped to test out a theory. "You mean you never thought you were an awful ugmi?" asked Thorgrim. Upon hearing that last word Pence's eyes had become cold, narrow and any warmth that could be seen in the man's face quickly evaporated.
"You look to be this Donald Trump, but thou art someone else, you are a stunted dwarf judging by your use of Khazalid." replied Pence, or at least somebody more sinister in his body.
"Aye, that's High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer of Clan Durazklad to you, whoever you are." retorted an angry Thorgrim.
A surprisingly dark laugh had erupted from the man from the man, "I am Mannfred von Carstein. Count of Sylvania, your Majesty." said Mannfred mockingly bowing towards Thorgrim.
"So, I must work with a Zangunaz, to become president of this America? Thorgrim said with a look of surprise and then annoyance.
"Very well, I suppose I'll have to make the most of this awful situation as well, Dwarf." said Mannfred with a tone of resentment in his voice.
"I believe we must gain the votes of all of the people or a majority to win the election and gain votes of these electors. Thorgrim remarked "I have no idea why but I feel like we've transported to a world filled with wazzocks?"
"Since this wretched land seems in some ways like the Empire, from what information I am going over, you would not be far off. Enough gullible sheep vote for us and we shall rule these United States of America. Mannfred said, giving his best explanation of the situation they now shared but he too had something else he could find interesting.
'Vampire's exist in this world as well, even if it is only in fiction. It is curious, I wonder what more I can find?'
2502 IC
Castle Drakenhof
In the highest part of Castle Drakenhof, a lone figure sat on his knees. 'I touched that stone and read that letter, it said I was some undead monster, a vampire to be exact. I can't be a monster can I? Where did this all go wrong? Maybe if I just pray, God will give me an answer, surely this is some bad dream.' The figure clasped his hands in prayer but began to feel intense pain. [2]
"I am forsaken, from my family, from humanity, and from God himself." The figure said with a mix of sadness and bitterness.
He was at least until tonight Michael Pence, now he was this Mannfred von Carstein, Count of Sylvania, and True Emperor of Mankind.
'If I didn't know better I figured I would be saying my w's as v's, but Dracula did not go around raising the dead, leading armies or know some pretty fiendish magic on top of that.' Pence tried to interject some humor into a situation that was dark in more ways than he could imagine, the only alternative was to hope he could cry until the sun came up.
Pence had taken a look at the various tomes of dark of dark magic that lay organized before him. 'Maybe all isn't lost. I can't believe I'm saying this, perhaps I don't need God's guidance to still be moral, at least here anyway. I just need to unite this Empire, perhaps humanity itself and destroy these servants of these Ruinous Powers.' Pence desperately thought trying to reassure himself about his current predicament before a grim realization hit him.
"That monster is near my family!" shouted Pence, who then frantically looked at that letter again, before sighing.
So this Mannfred is in my body, with someone else in Donald's body, and the both of them are going to have to deal with the presidential election campaign. While me and presumably everyone else running, is stuck in this figuratively, and in my case literally godforsaken world? surmising his situation only one word came off Michael's tongue "GODDAMNIT!"
'At least my family won't be someone else's meal, but then who is going to be mine?' Pence wondered about his insidious new hunger.
Michael's thoughts of hunger soon turned towards a different kind of hunger, power. his red eyes grew wild and an almost feral smile crossed his lips. 'This creature placed me into this hell filled with nothing but war and death, but with the black and unholy powers I have, I'll show I can. Bring order and progress will come to this wretched backwater and then the world.' [3]
The Dark magic that suffused through his new body made Michael feel almost invincible From the depths of Sylvania, the undead legions of the Von Carstein's would march again.
Karaz-a-Karak
2502 IC
Thorgrim Grudgebearer sat at the foot of his bed deep in thought, at least physically. 'Jesus Christ, what the hell happened this isn't the Hilton Garden Inn?' Even if I must admit it looks nice. Thorgrim or more aptly Donald John Trump thought of their new surroundings.
It was a modest room with furniture made from finely crafted wood
As Trump looked around he noticed a glowing piece of paper he felt compelled to touch. New memories and a new language had soon entered his mind.
'I'm a Dwarf?! Well they call themselves Dawi, what kind of place is this?' Trump wondered while trying to take stock of his new surroundings.
'It's my home, well his home. It looks pretty damn good.' Trump paused for a brief moment 'Aw Crap. My campaign is utterly fucked isn't it. This guy is too damn honest, and I wanted to run that new station afterward anyway; it was a goldmine of an idea.' [4]
"I take it you're awake, umgi." A deep irritated voice responded, but Trump wondered why did it call him human?
Trump ignored his newfound knowledge, and looked to the source of a voice and saw a resplendent figure in the doorway. It was a Dwarf, no Dawi in magnificent armor with shining scales, and a wild mane of hair that contrasted with a well kept but long beard.
Trump moved closer before he recognized who this was.
"You're The White Dwarf, Grombrindal!" The White Dwarf nodded.
"At least that stone has given you some sense. Do you at least know whose body you're inhabiting and what your duty is?"
Trump thought over the new information. 'I'm a king, not Elvis, not M.J, or even Benny Goodman, but an honest to God, er Gods High King.'
"I'm in the body of High King of the Dawi Thorgrim Grudgebearer, and I have vowed to avenge as many grudges that exist in the Great Book of Grudges and restore the Karaz Ankor." These people sure have a temper.
"It's passable." Grombrindal remarked unimpressed "I'm here to make sure you don't screw things up. So no Oath Breaking, no beard shaving, or unsavory things like not drinking."
"But drinking killed my brother." Trump's thoughts had turned briefly to sadder times.
Grombrindal's scowl slightly softened. "Hmph perhaps, but you're not an umgi anymore, you can handle the stuff. Now come on and follow me, this is a different sort of business then you're used to running."
"How do you know that?"
"I've been given some info on your world, whatever deities you have there are passive. All you need to know is I know your an unbraki wazzock, and the last thing I need is for you to go dishonor or shame a person far greater than you. So you're following my lead, got that?"
"Yes Revered Ancestor." Trump replied as the White Dwarf had left the room.
'If these legends were anything to go by, this man, er dwarf, was no one to take lightly. Dammit, how did I end up having to help restore some underground kingdom, under threat by green monsters and giant rats. Fucking giant rats with guns, and gas' Trump let out a weary sigh.
"I made it in New York, surely I can make it here?" It was a question Trump was admittedly unsure he could answer, as he prepared to first meet with the council of guilds at Karaz-a-Karak.
[1] The Dwarfs in Warhammer Fantasy have a working con-lang called Khazalid. I'll put the terms at the end so as to not make too many notes, but do expect it to pop up.
[2] Warhammer Vampires are weak to faith in general even including anything like the ruinous powers of Chaos.
[3] Appearance wise I might mix and match for some characters with Total Warhammer being my first point reference if possible, but in this case Mannfred like other vampires in that game has red eyes.
[4] I'm going with the idea that Donald Trump did not run for president for the sake of winning but to launch a T.V network.
Khazalid terms: Umgi: Human, Elgi: Elf, Gor: Beast, or Beastman, Zangunaz: Blood-drinker, Vampire, Wazzock someone who is gullible, Unbaraki an Oathbreaker.
I've been kind of semi-hesitant to continue with this my own laziness aside, just because I fear that a fair deal of this might have aged badly or am I 'wrong' to try not to make a work that takes the piss Especially when my first go at this, this was my first chapter and largely inspired from the joke of Donald Trump being vengeful and loving gold or gold plated things almost like a Warhammer Dawi.
Cleveland, Ohio
Thorgrim Grudgebearer, High King of the Dwarves had just woken up ready to take up the coming days struggles.
he felt strange, his body felt bigger, he got up off this strange bed, sitting a getting a look at his surroundings he saw things that looked fancy, for an umgi. [1]
A feeling of dread began to creep into Thorgrim. What if we were somehow an umgi? He looked and felt a slight sense of relief. His hands weren't all that bigger, but then got off the bed which seemed high and his body much more rotund than usual. Fearing the worse he took a good look in the mirror and screamed in shock.
The umgi's skin was pale, but Thorgrim's horror could only grow as he looked at his face.
'By the Ancestor Gods I'm beardless! Did some elgi and a gor go have a child on this man's head and call it hair?' Thorgrim thought as he felt what was apparently his new head of hair.
After coming to terms or at least trying to, Thorgrim had seen what appeared to be a glowing piece of paper.
Congratulations, Participant
You have been chosen to inhabit this body and take over this person's role for the presidential election of a nation called The United States of America in a world called Earth. However, as a consequence, the person whose body you now inhabit are also in your body as well. You should also see a glowing stone that should give you knowledge of your new self, political positions, and how this new world works.
Best Wishes,
Anatoly the Alien Space Bat.
'Damn this Space Bat,' Thorgrim. 'If I ever get back home this wrong will be avenged.' Thorgrim was stirred out of his thoughts of vengeance by a knock at the door, thinking quickly he grabbed the stone and tried to find suitable clothing to wear.
"Mr. Trump, we have a bit of a situation here." It came from what was some kind of messenger or servant.
Barely having the time to adjust to the flood of memories, he only manages a few words. "I'll be right there." said Thorgrim.
"Sir, Mr. Pence is acting crazy, he just woke up speaking in a weird language, speaking oddly in English, and hiding from the sun." said the aide, a man in what Thorgrim now recognized as a suit and sunglasses.
"I think we've won so much it's made Mike crazy, I'll go talk to him." Thorgrim reassured the man, while still getting used to this person's speaking habits. After making his way towards Pence's suite Thorgrim knocked on the door.
"Come on in." came a voice that seemed to be trying hard to be convincing.
When Thorgrim entered the room, he saw what was his choice for this Umgi office of Vice-President standing in the shade, but he also couldn't help but notice a similar glow that had come from that paper left by that bat. Maybe this Mike Pence was someone else too? Thorgrim was willing to test out an idea.
"Hey Mike, have you ever had this feeling that you're not you, but you have been put here by some kind of strange power, by like some kind of bat? Awful Anatoly I want to call him," Thorgrim said trying to satisfy his suspicions, but not reveal who he is.
Thorgrim thought he saw his 'running mate's' eyes shift into something cold and fierce "No Donald, what on Earth would ever make you think that? Mike Pence responded, taking a step back away from him.
'Damn it all here goes nothing.' Thorgrim hoped to test out a theory. "You mean you never thought you were an awful ugmi?" asked Thorgrim. Upon hearing that last word Pence's eyes had become cold, narrow and any warmth that could be seen in the man's face quickly evaporated.
"You look to be this Donald Trump, but thou art someone else, you are a stunted dwarf judging by your use of Khazalid." replied Pence, or at least somebody more sinister in his body.
"Aye, that's High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer of Clan Durazklad to you, whoever you are." retorted an angry Thorgrim.
A surprisingly dark laugh had erupted from the man from the man, "I am Mannfred von Carstein. Count of Sylvania, your Majesty." said Mannfred mockingly bowing towards Thorgrim.
"So, I must work with a Zangunaz, to become president of this America? Thorgrim said with a look of surprise and then annoyance.
"Very well, I suppose I'll have to make the most of this awful situation as well, Dwarf." said Mannfred with a tone of resentment in his voice.
"I believe we must gain the votes of all of the people or a majority to win the election and gain votes of these electors. Thorgrim remarked "I have no idea why but I feel like we've transported to a world filled with wazzocks?"
"Since this wretched land seems in some ways like the Empire, from what information I am going over, you would not be far off. Enough gullible sheep vote for us and we shall rule these United States of America. Mannfred said, giving his best explanation of the situation they now shared but he too had something else he could find interesting.
'Vampire's exist in this world as well, even if it is only in fiction. It is curious, I wonder what more I can find?'
2502 IC
Castle Drakenhof
In the highest part of Castle Drakenhof, a lone figure sat on his knees. 'I touched that stone and read that letter, it said I was some undead monster, a vampire to be exact. I can't be a monster can I? Where did this all go wrong? Maybe if I just pray, God will give me an answer, surely this is some bad dream.' The figure clasped his hands in prayer but began to feel intense pain. [2]
"I am forsaken, from my family, from humanity, and from God himself." The figure said with a mix of sadness and bitterness.
He was at least until tonight Michael Pence, now he was this Mannfred von Carstein, Count of Sylvania, and True Emperor of Mankind.
'If I didn't know better I figured I would be saying my w's as v's, but Dracula did not go around raising the dead, leading armies or know some pretty fiendish magic on top of that.' Pence tried to interject some humor into a situation that was dark in more ways than he could imagine, the only alternative was to hope he could cry until the sun came up.
Pence had taken a look at the various tomes of dark of dark magic that lay organized before him. 'Maybe all isn't lost. I can't believe I'm saying this, perhaps I don't need God's guidance to still be moral, at least here anyway. I just need to unite this Empire, perhaps humanity itself and destroy these servants of these Ruinous Powers.' Pence desperately thought trying to reassure himself about his current predicament before a grim realization hit him.
"That monster is near my family!" shouted Pence, who then frantically looked at that letter again, before sighing.
So this Mannfred is in my body, with someone else in Donald's body, and the both of them are going to have to deal with the presidential election campaign. While me and presumably everyone else running, is stuck in this figuratively, and in my case literally godforsaken world? surmising his situation only one word came off Michael's tongue "GODDAMNIT!"
'At least my family won't be someone else's meal, but then who is going to be mine?' Pence wondered about his insidious new hunger.
Michael's thoughts of hunger soon turned towards a different kind of hunger, power. his red eyes grew wild and an almost feral smile crossed his lips. 'This creature placed me into this hell filled with nothing but war and death, but with the black and unholy powers I have, I'll show I can. Bring order and progress will come to this wretched backwater and then the world.' [3]
The Dark magic that suffused through his new body made Michael feel almost invincible From the depths of Sylvania, the undead legions of the Von Carstein's would march again.
Karaz-a-Karak
2502 IC
Thorgrim Grudgebearer sat at the foot of his bed deep in thought, at least physically. 'Jesus Christ, what the hell happened this isn't the Hilton Garden Inn?' Even if I must admit it looks nice. Thorgrim or more aptly Donald John Trump thought of their new surroundings.
It was a modest room with furniture made from finely crafted wood
As Trump looked around he noticed a glowing piece of paper he felt compelled to touch. New memories and a new language had soon entered his mind.
'I'm a Dwarf?! Well they call themselves Dawi, what kind of place is this?' Trump wondered while trying to take stock of his new surroundings.
'It's my home, well his home. It looks pretty damn good.' Trump paused for a brief moment 'Aw Crap. My campaign is utterly fucked isn't it. This guy is too damn honest, and I wanted to run that new station afterward anyway; it was a goldmine of an idea.' [4]
"I take it you're awake, umgi." A deep irritated voice responded, but Trump wondered why did it call him human?
Trump ignored his newfound knowledge, and looked to the source of a voice and saw a resplendent figure in the doorway. It was a Dwarf, no Dawi in magnificent armor with shining scales, and a wild mane of hair that contrasted with a well kept but long beard.
Trump moved closer before he recognized who this was.
"You're The White Dwarf, Grombrindal!" The White Dwarf nodded.
"At least that stone has given you some sense. Do you at least know whose body you're inhabiting and what your duty is?"
Trump thought over the new information. 'I'm a king, not Elvis, not M.J, or even Benny Goodman, but an honest to God, er Gods High King.'
"I'm in the body of High King of the Dawi Thorgrim Grudgebearer, and I have vowed to avenge as many grudges that exist in the Great Book of Grudges and restore the Karaz Ankor." These people sure have a temper.
"It's passable." Grombrindal remarked unimpressed "I'm here to make sure you don't screw things up. So no Oath Breaking, no beard shaving, or unsavory things like not drinking."
"But drinking killed my brother." Trump's thoughts had turned briefly to sadder times.
Grombrindal's scowl slightly softened. "Hmph perhaps, but you're not an umgi anymore, you can handle the stuff. Now come on and follow me, this is a different sort of business then you're used to running."
"How do you know that?"
"I've been given some info on your world, whatever deities you have there are passive. All you need to know is I know your an unbraki wazzock, and the last thing I need is for you to go dishonor or shame a person far greater than you. So you're following my lead, got that?"
"Yes Revered Ancestor." Trump replied as the White Dwarf had left the room.
'If these legends were anything to go by, this man, er dwarf, was no one to take lightly. Dammit, how did I end up having to help restore some underground kingdom, under threat by green monsters and giant rats. Fucking giant rats with guns, and gas' Trump let out a weary sigh.
"I made it in New York, surely I can make it here?" It was a question Trump was admittedly unsure he could answer, as he prepared to first meet with the council of guilds at Karaz-a-Karak.
[1] The Dwarfs in Warhammer Fantasy have a working con-lang called Khazalid. I'll put the terms at the end so as to not make too many notes, but do expect it to pop up.
[2] Warhammer Vampires are weak to faith in general even including anything like the ruinous powers of Chaos.
[3] Appearance wise I might mix and match for some characters with Total Warhammer being my first point reference if possible, but in this case Mannfred like other vampires in that game has red eyes.
[4] I'm going with the idea that Donald Trump did not run for president for the sake of winning but to launch a T.V network.
Khazalid terms: Umgi: Human, Elgi: Elf, Gor: Beast, or Beastman, Zangunaz: Blood-drinker, Vampire, Wazzock someone who is gullible, Unbaraki an Oathbreaker.
I've been kind of semi-hesitant to continue with this my own laziness aside, just because I fear that a fair deal of this might have aged badly or am I 'wrong' to try not to make a work that takes the piss Especially when my first go at this, this was my first chapter and largely inspired from the joke of Donald Trump being vengeful and loving gold or gold plated things almost like a Warhammer Dawi.
Part 4: Broken Expectations, Broken Veils
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
July 23rd, 2016
New York City, New York
"Ugh, this Umgi's mind sickens me," Thorgrim had recently looked through the memories of his new body, after a quick flight to 'his' home.
"How horrifying can that man's mind be, Your Majesty. Surely he is just some extravagant merchant, like any other deluded fool from Marienburg who believes his wealth affords him true power?" Mannfred was mockingly curious as to how awful his reluctant ally's vessel could possibly be.
"Nai, Zangunaz, his more intimate life is too loose and shameful, and the fact that honesty seems almost alien to him. Why, is there more to that man then boring looks?" Thorgrim said, hoping he could find something to take joy from in this situation.
"I could care less about this man's false, dead god, the land of Indiana, and this amusement of motor chariot racing. The fact that our vessels are reviling aside, how are we to manage this campaign?" Mannfred's displeasure brought a small smile to Thorgrim's new face.
"Hmph, well going through all of these memories I see we are promoting a platform of America First, so trade protectionism, more localized industry, and restrictions on people entering the country. For that entering the country bit, we Dwarves seldom see families move from dwarfhold to dwarfhold without a major crisis, or new opportunities arise, so how often do Umgi move about?
"This is not a question with a simple answer. A city or town in the Empire, Kislev or the Southern lands of Estalia and Tilea could see a family move if they have the money, if they farm as peasants they are usually tied down to the land of their liege lord. We do not appear to be in such a feudal society, and travel appears to be much faster than back home," Mannfred replied before stopping to think. "Magic and Chaos do not appear to exist, so there does not appear too many 'serious' reasons for mass migrations that we know of, but migration appears to be checked by government officials. What about the more conservative aspects of this platform?" Mannfred had continued on. [1]
"I'm not sure what to make of it. We Dawi do have our disputes but we are all still Dawi."
"Even those lost to Chaos?" Mannfred asked with a tone of mock innocence, knowing all too well it would rile the stunted king.
"They are abominations that deserve to be destroyed! I am sure most reasonable Umgi would view the same of your kind. But enough of this, are Umgi politics always this petty?"
"Yes in both name and scale. When I was still mortal, my family the von Tempelhof's had dedicated themselves to exerting influence in the West of Sylvania all so they could be content with ruling the backwater that was my home. When my true father, Vlad invaded the Empire it was too busy fighting amongst itself, only once I had begun my invasion did they finally unite to put me down." Mannfred remarked with disdain "This world is no different, we would have our 'dear' supporters believe that somehow as a superpower they are besieged by people almost described as Strigany in a world without magic, and that yet being a lynchpin of this world's strangely interconnected system, they are also somehow being cheated. Although he might have a point with industry, a broken clock and-." [2]
"A broken clock is an Umgi failing! Yes you have lowly merchants in our society, but they are still considered a part of our society and not left to rot, whereas you umgi let your poor become criminals." Thorgrim interjected. "Am I supposed to believe you actually care about some of these divisions." Thorgrim saw Mannfred give a look of disgust.
"Yes, Undead or not I consider myself a man of the Empire, I hate Bretonnians, and I do not care for the arrogance of a civilization still pining for its long past glory days like the Nehekharans. Although I must admit I could care less about that here, all of these people are alien and nothing more than cattle to go feed off of." [3]
"How wonderfully egalitarian of you." Thorgrim remarked flatly. "So, how do you think we should frame this platform of America First?"
"Emphasize a more inclusive approach, and if you truly are this radical figure, why stick with their standard issues on faith and society?"
"What if I reveal some of 'my past'?"
"And ruin this man's sterling reputation?" Thorgrim and Mannfred shared a small chuckle. Before a look of contemplation appeared on Count's new face. "It might anger many of our backers. Assuming we want to win to this election."
"Why 'Count' are you scared because you will never be elected Emperor of the Empire, I've won mine against some of the most renowned figures of my generation." Mannfred saw a look of smugness on 'Thorgrim's' face.
"Bah, I need not care about the mewling of petty Elector Counts. However we are limited to more mundane means so if we are to radically change our messaging we have to make sure it draws enough sheep to go vote."
"Noted." Thorgrim heard this stomach moan. "I wonder what Umgi slop passes for food in this land?"
"It seems I shall wonder too, I have not had to eat or drink in centuries."
Both figures decided to put their planning on hold to go eat.
What Mannfred did not reveal was a growing sense of unease with this new world. Vampires exist in this world too, but as merely concepts, stories to entertain and scare, yet why do they seem familiar, far too familiar?
Several hours later Mannfred had taken using this device called a computer, at first what was amusing and surprising was now frightening.
Why are they so familiar? Pathetic fictional creatures that act as seductive parasites to uncouth animalistic brutes, and aristocrats in old castles occasionally baring the title of Count. There must be more to this, what I do not know yet, however, the Dwarf does not need to know for now. [4]
Mannfred paused, and started to breathe heavily. 'Von Carstein! No it cannot be!' Mannfred continued to read and find things that shocked him. He knew his father turned him before he met Isabella, but he never knew he was Nehekaran or that he even aided Sigmar against Nagash, but that he and Isabella would be brought back by the End Times. Mannfred felt himself slipping from this world back to his own. Reading on he found his own entry. It had nothing on his time before he was turned. Mannfred could only audibly gasp. [5]
'I help bring about both the resurrection of Nagash, and the destruction of the world! I had thought Nagash only a mere legend in terms of power, I was seriously mistaken.'
Before Mannfred could think further, he found himself back in Castle Drakenhof, but memories of the man's stay in his body returned. Before Mannfred got the chance to revel in their despair he found himself thrust back into his body with, a splitting headache and something he had not experienced in centuries nausea. After an unpleasant trip to the toilet, Mannfred found himself breathing heavily.
A single thought ran through Mannfred's mind.
'I have to tell the Dwarf, Whatever these End Times are supposed to be, it cannot turn out like this?'
Skavenblight
2502 IC
In a rare sight, all of the one-hundred and sixty nine Grey Seers of the Under Empire had convened. They stood chanting noisome praises to the Great Horned Rat in front of the Black Pillar. Apparently each Grey Seer received a vision from the Horned One, to meet at his great temple in Skavenblight. The sickly green warpstone colored runes on the pillar glowed bright and the Grey Seer's found themselves in front of the towering form of the Horned Rat. [6]
"Oh Great Horned One, why have we been summoned-gathered?" Seerlord of the Priesthood Kritislik meekly squeaked as every Grey Seer prostrated themselves.
"THE BALENCE OF POWER HAS BEEN SHIFTED, AND THE GREAT ASCENDENCY LAY IMPERIELD!" The horned god bellowed "SKRITNITCH STEP FORWARD! YOU ARE TO BE MY EMISSARY! GATHER WHAT FORCES AND INFORMATION YOU CAN, WHEN YOU ARE READY I SHALL SEND ANOTHER MESSAGE!"
A single Grey Seer stepped forward wearing Grey colored Stormvermin armor over his robes.
"EXTEND YOUR LEFT PAW." Skritnitch extended his left paw only for it to be struck and scarred by warp lightning. The resulting scar was in the shape in a triangle "IF THIS RAT IS SLAIN BY YOUR PLOTING YOU SHALL ALL SUFFER, FOR I HAVE TASKED THEM WITH A GREAT CAUSE!" The Horned Rat looked down upon the lone Seer "SKRITNITCH HEAD TO THE CITY OF PILLARS FIRST!" [7]
The room had returned to normal, but Skritnitch found himself stared at by one-hundred and sixty eight pairs of eyes.
[1] Each society of humans are radically different. The Empire practices Feudalism, but has several impressive cities and an urban middle class. Bretonnia is for the most part purely feudal. Tilea and Estalia, Basically Warhammer Italy and Spain also seem to be a mix of cities and rural lands. Kislev is Basically Warhammer Eastern Europe, with cities farmlands, and tribes.
[2] Mannfred isn't given much in the way of backstory, so I have a headcannon that he comes from Tempelhof, with later events to reference the Vampire Wars. Strigany are basically Warhammer Roma with a connection to ancient Vampire Kingdom of Styrgos, and the Stirgoi.
[3] Going off his speeches in Total War Warhammer Mannfred seems to very much an Imperial who does not care much for Bretonnians, which I've expanded to most other humans.
[4] Warhammer vampires do come in a mix of varieties that have some basis in either folklore or pop culture. The Von Carsteins, your typical gothic horror noble vampire, Lahmians the seductive creature, ala Carmilla or some more recent takes on vampires. Strigoi, as the original folklore of monstrous creatures. Necrarchs similar to Orlok from Nosferatu, but with a strong magical theme. The Blood Dragons are the odd ones out, but serve as more warrior oriented vampires. Those are the main five there are two others, the Jade Vampires of Cathay, and Mhatmasi, vampires of Araby.
[5] Apparently, Mannfred was turned into a Vampire by Vlad before he met Isabella, but never really knew Vlad's origins. At least as the of End Times Vlad von Carstein was known as Vashanesh who at least some time before 1520 before Sigmar founded the Empire of Man, became a vampire. Also Vlad might been a descendent of the Third Dynasty of Nehekara, and some form of relation to Nagash.
[6] Grey Seer's serve as high priesthood of orthodox Skaven Society, I say orthodox because technically Clan Pestlens are heretics seeing their interpretation of the Horned Rat as a god strictly of disease, and they would wipe the other Skaven out if they could. Grey Seers are noted for having horns similar to the Horned Rat, and the Greater Demons of the Horned Rat as well. Due to thirteen being a scared number there are thirteen groups of thirteen Grey Seers.
[7] The City of Pillars is the Skaven name for what is Karak Eight Peaks, a contested Dwarfhold. Also I have the Horned Rat not use jitter-speak which is usually saying to words for emphasis some the same word or not, for example summoned-gathered. Although jitter-speak has been very inconsistent across Skaven appearances, with many Skaven speaking normal sentences as well.
So along with a few touch ups to where I want to see this particular campaign go, I've wanted to introduce the Skaven into this plot with a bit more fanfare like Nagash and Chaos. They will play an important role for what I've long planned as this story's endgame. Although I have brought self awareness of them being 'fictional' into the mix much earlier.
New York City, New York
"Ugh, this Umgi's mind sickens me," Thorgrim had recently looked through the memories of his new body, after a quick flight to 'his' home.
"How horrifying can that man's mind be, Your Majesty. Surely he is just some extravagant merchant, like any other deluded fool from Marienburg who believes his wealth affords him true power?" Mannfred was mockingly curious as to how awful his reluctant ally's vessel could possibly be.
"Nai, Zangunaz, his more intimate life is too loose and shameful, and the fact that honesty seems almost alien to him. Why, is there more to that man then boring looks?" Thorgrim said, hoping he could find something to take joy from in this situation.
"I could care less about this man's false, dead god, the land of Indiana, and this amusement of motor chariot racing. The fact that our vessels are reviling aside, how are we to manage this campaign?" Mannfred's displeasure brought a small smile to Thorgrim's new face.
"Hmph, well going through all of these memories I see we are promoting a platform of America First, so trade protectionism, more localized industry, and restrictions on people entering the country. For that entering the country bit, we Dwarves seldom see families move from dwarfhold to dwarfhold without a major crisis, or new opportunities arise, so how often do Umgi move about?
"This is not a question with a simple answer. A city or town in the Empire, Kislev or the Southern lands of Estalia and Tilea could see a family move if they have the money, if they farm as peasants they are usually tied down to the land of their liege lord. We do not appear to be in such a feudal society, and travel appears to be much faster than back home," Mannfred replied before stopping to think. "Magic and Chaos do not appear to exist, so there does not appear too many 'serious' reasons for mass migrations that we know of, but migration appears to be checked by government officials. What about the more conservative aspects of this platform?" Mannfred had continued on. [1]
"I'm not sure what to make of it. We Dawi do have our disputes but we are all still Dawi."
"Even those lost to Chaos?" Mannfred asked with a tone of mock innocence, knowing all too well it would rile the stunted king.
"They are abominations that deserve to be destroyed! I am sure most reasonable Umgi would view the same of your kind. But enough of this, are Umgi politics always this petty?"
"Yes in both name and scale. When I was still mortal, my family the von Tempelhof's had dedicated themselves to exerting influence in the West of Sylvania all so they could be content with ruling the backwater that was my home. When my true father, Vlad invaded the Empire it was too busy fighting amongst itself, only once I had begun my invasion did they finally unite to put me down." Mannfred remarked with disdain "This world is no different, we would have our 'dear' supporters believe that somehow as a superpower they are besieged by people almost described as Strigany in a world without magic, and that yet being a lynchpin of this world's strangely interconnected system, they are also somehow being cheated. Although he might have a point with industry, a broken clock and-." [2]
"A broken clock is an Umgi failing! Yes you have lowly merchants in our society, but they are still considered a part of our society and not left to rot, whereas you umgi let your poor become criminals." Thorgrim interjected. "Am I supposed to believe you actually care about some of these divisions." Thorgrim saw Mannfred give a look of disgust.
"Yes, Undead or not I consider myself a man of the Empire, I hate Bretonnians, and I do not care for the arrogance of a civilization still pining for its long past glory days like the Nehekharans. Although I must admit I could care less about that here, all of these people are alien and nothing more than cattle to go feed off of." [3]
"How wonderfully egalitarian of you." Thorgrim remarked flatly. "So, how do you think we should frame this platform of America First?"
"Emphasize a more inclusive approach, and if you truly are this radical figure, why stick with their standard issues on faith and society?"
"What if I reveal some of 'my past'?"
"And ruin this man's sterling reputation?" Thorgrim and Mannfred shared a small chuckle. Before a look of contemplation appeared on Count's new face. "It might anger many of our backers. Assuming we want to win to this election."
"Why 'Count' are you scared because you will never be elected Emperor of the Empire, I've won mine against some of the most renowned figures of my generation." Mannfred saw a look of smugness on 'Thorgrim's' face.
"Bah, I need not care about the mewling of petty Elector Counts. However we are limited to more mundane means so if we are to radically change our messaging we have to make sure it draws enough sheep to go vote."
"Noted." Thorgrim heard this stomach moan. "I wonder what Umgi slop passes for food in this land?"
"It seems I shall wonder too, I have not had to eat or drink in centuries."
Both figures decided to put their planning on hold to go eat.
What Mannfred did not reveal was a growing sense of unease with this new world. Vampires exist in this world too, but as merely concepts, stories to entertain and scare, yet why do they seem familiar, far too familiar?
Several hours later Mannfred had taken using this device called a computer, at first what was amusing and surprising was now frightening.
Why are they so familiar? Pathetic fictional creatures that act as seductive parasites to uncouth animalistic brutes, and aristocrats in old castles occasionally baring the title of Count. There must be more to this, what I do not know yet, however, the Dwarf does not need to know for now. [4]
Mannfred paused, and started to breathe heavily. 'Von Carstein! No it cannot be!' Mannfred continued to read and find things that shocked him. He knew his father turned him before he met Isabella, but he never knew he was Nehekaran or that he even aided Sigmar against Nagash, but that he and Isabella would be brought back by the End Times. Mannfred felt himself slipping from this world back to his own. Reading on he found his own entry. It had nothing on his time before he was turned. Mannfred could only audibly gasp. [5]
'I help bring about both the resurrection of Nagash, and the destruction of the world! I had thought Nagash only a mere legend in terms of power, I was seriously mistaken.'
Before Mannfred could think further, he found himself back in Castle Drakenhof, but memories of the man's stay in his body returned. Before Mannfred got the chance to revel in their despair he found himself thrust back into his body with, a splitting headache and something he had not experienced in centuries nausea. After an unpleasant trip to the toilet, Mannfred found himself breathing heavily.
A single thought ran through Mannfred's mind.
'I have to tell the Dwarf, Whatever these End Times are supposed to be, it cannot turn out like this?'
Skavenblight
2502 IC
In a rare sight, all of the one-hundred and sixty nine Grey Seers of the Under Empire had convened. They stood chanting noisome praises to the Great Horned Rat in front of the Black Pillar. Apparently each Grey Seer received a vision from the Horned One, to meet at his great temple in Skavenblight. The sickly green warpstone colored runes on the pillar glowed bright and the Grey Seer's found themselves in front of the towering form of the Horned Rat. [6]
"Oh Great Horned One, why have we been summoned-gathered?" Seerlord of the Priesthood Kritislik meekly squeaked as every Grey Seer prostrated themselves.
"THE BALENCE OF POWER HAS BEEN SHIFTED, AND THE GREAT ASCENDENCY LAY IMPERIELD!" The horned god bellowed "SKRITNITCH STEP FORWARD! YOU ARE TO BE MY EMISSARY! GATHER WHAT FORCES AND INFORMATION YOU CAN, WHEN YOU ARE READY I SHALL SEND ANOTHER MESSAGE!"
A single Grey Seer stepped forward wearing Grey colored Stormvermin armor over his robes.
"EXTEND YOUR LEFT PAW." Skritnitch extended his left paw only for it to be struck and scarred by warp lightning. The resulting scar was in the shape in a triangle "IF THIS RAT IS SLAIN BY YOUR PLOTING YOU SHALL ALL SUFFER, FOR I HAVE TASKED THEM WITH A GREAT CAUSE!" The Horned Rat looked down upon the lone Seer "SKRITNITCH HEAD TO THE CITY OF PILLARS FIRST!" [7]
The room had returned to normal, but Skritnitch found himself stared at by one-hundred and sixty eight pairs of eyes.
[1] Each society of humans are radically different. The Empire practices Feudalism, but has several impressive cities and an urban middle class. Bretonnia is for the most part purely feudal. Tilea and Estalia, Basically Warhammer Italy and Spain also seem to be a mix of cities and rural lands. Kislev is Basically Warhammer Eastern Europe, with cities farmlands, and tribes.
[2] Mannfred isn't given much in the way of backstory, so I have a headcannon that he comes from Tempelhof, with later events to reference the Vampire Wars. Strigany are basically Warhammer Roma with a connection to ancient Vampire Kingdom of Styrgos, and the Stirgoi.
[3] Going off his speeches in Total War Warhammer Mannfred seems to very much an Imperial who does not care much for Bretonnians, which I've expanded to most other humans.
[4] Warhammer vampires do come in a mix of varieties that have some basis in either folklore or pop culture. The Von Carsteins, your typical gothic horror noble vampire, Lahmians the seductive creature, ala Carmilla or some more recent takes on vampires. Strigoi, as the original folklore of monstrous creatures. Necrarchs similar to Orlok from Nosferatu, but with a strong magical theme. The Blood Dragons are the odd ones out, but serve as more warrior oriented vampires. Those are the main five there are two others, the Jade Vampires of Cathay, and Mhatmasi, vampires of Araby.
[5] Apparently, Mannfred was turned into a Vampire by Vlad before he met Isabella, but never really knew Vlad's origins. At least as the of End Times Vlad von Carstein was known as Vashanesh who at least some time before 1520 before Sigmar founded the Empire of Man, became a vampire. Also Vlad might been a descendent of the Third Dynasty of Nehekara, and some form of relation to Nagash.
[6] Grey Seer's serve as high priesthood of orthodox Skaven Society, I say orthodox because technically Clan Pestlens are heretics seeing their interpretation of the Horned Rat as a god strictly of disease, and they would wipe the other Skaven out if they could. Grey Seers are noted for having horns similar to the Horned Rat, and the Greater Demons of the Horned Rat as well. Due to thirteen being a scared number there are thirteen groups of thirteen Grey Seers.
[7] The City of Pillars is the Skaven name for what is Karak Eight Peaks, a contested Dwarfhold. Also I have the Horned Rat not use jitter-speak which is usually saying to words for emphasis some the same word or not, for example summoned-gathered. Although jitter-speak has been very inconsistent across Skaven appearances, with many Skaven speaking normal sentences as well.
So along with a few touch ups to where I want to see this particular campaign go, I've wanted to introduce the Skaven into this plot with a bit more fanfare like Nagash and Chaos. They will play an important role for what I've long planned as this story's endgame. Although I have brought self awareness of them being 'fictional' into the mix much earlier.
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
''I've been kind of semi-hesitant to continue with this my own laziness aside, just because I fear that a fair deal of this might have aged badly or am I 'wrong' to try not to make a work that takes the piss Especially when my first go at this, this was my first chapter and largely inspired from the joke of Donald Trump being vengeful and loving gold or gold plated things almost like a Warhammer Dawi.''
Nah mate, even if it goes poorly its an opportunity to learn I say, plus mike pence as a crusading vampire is golden.
EDIT: I also am pleasantly amused by your story continuing the Horned Rats trend of mainly intervening to tell his follower not to be stupid about a particular thing.
Nah mate, even if it goes poorly its an opportunity to learn I say, plus mike pence as a crusading vampire is golden.
EDIT: I also am pleasantly amused by your story continuing the Horned Rats trend of mainly intervening to tell his follower not to be stupid about a particular thing.
Last edited:
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
Thanks, I have three other pairs to go bring in and had plans for at least two other transplants at one point, but only one of them slightly impacted the story but by not really being a part of it. Mind this was more to make the Skaven side of the plot run smoother, and give a reason for why this Rat in particular is doing what he's doing.
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
You mean like Thanquol goes on a paid vacation in cathay or something?
Part 5:Seers on the Streets of Skavenblight
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
More like in an old draft Thanquol would have been sent into Abu Bakr Al-Baghdadi's body, which would soon be killed an attack. Cue Thanqoul being in some kind of intermediate afterlife, which if I was willing to do more research would be Barzakh were he meets the Prophet Muhhammad, peace be upon him. Cue Thanqoul suffering religious and existential angst, while chatting with prophet with vaguely visible features. Although to be fair Al-Baghdadi would have been stuck as a Grey Seer, where the Horned Rat would inform him that for him, there is one God, and he is one of his prophets. And the Horned Rat is not a god of mercy or compassion. For even more cringe Archaon the Everchosen would have swapped places with Pope Francis, although if it makes you feel better I am Roman Catholic, if kind of lapsed.
Although in an older draft I do pick and choose some bits of the End Times to go use, because some parts I think are interesting to go use, if not in the same way they were used. But in this case multi-dimensional shenanigans have thrown the best laid plans of Horned Rats, Dead Men, and the Dark Gods out of whack.
Skavenblight
2502 IC
The long silence of Grey Seer Conclave was soon broken.
"Hah, the Great Horned One must really hate-despise you." A Grey Seer wearing grey robes from Cathay, and a Cathayan pibian remarked. Skritnitch's whiskers twitched in irritation, for he knew that rat's voice too well. [1]
"Skadich! You dare make light of the Great Horned One's commands!" Seerlord Kritsnik was outraged.
"No Seerlord." Skadich remarked bowing his head. "However I must wonder-question what kind of 'blessed' quest-task would entail seeing Gnadwell's pet pup Queek." Many voices in the chamber shrieked and hissed, at the mention of the name.
"Whatever it is only the Horned Rat knows, and only a fool would tempt his wrath." The Seerlord addressed the crowd but soon turned a glare toward Skritnitch. "I know of your reputation, 'pragmatic, and perhaps even 'merciful' Skritnitch." Kritsnik spat. "Do not let this mission-task cloud-delude your brain. You are to take what measures you deem necessary, but do not overreach." The Seerlord had warned.
"I understand Seerlord." Skritnitch kneeled and turned to leave only to be confronted by many familiar faces Rasknitt, Thanqol, Vulscreek, Kranskritt, Farquan, Skrittar, Razzle, and Thratquee among the one hundred and sixty-eight. Many stared at him with rage, some confusion but only one stood with a mischievous smile on their face, and started to approach him causing the rat to deeply sigh. Skritnitch never knew why he seemed to end up in the company of the Under-Empire's Grey Seer ambassador to Cathay, more than he'd like to. [2]
"Ha ha ha, going to the City of Pillars Skritnitch? I wonder-guess who you will anger more, Queek or Razzel? Come with me to go eat-visit at Tseng's in the Eshin district." Skadich remarked as both rats walked towards the assembly of palanquins.
"Why so you can get me to try-drink that nasty Cathay-drink, how did it go Hongjew?" Skritnitch's last words made jovial skaven's whiskers twitch.
"It's Haungjiu, you're too stuck up and self-important-arrogant, and deny-ignore the good stuff from the Things that dwell above." Skadich said with a huff. "We are the chosen of the Great Horned One, we should get our deserved share in many things, food, drink, breeders, slave-things and warpstone yes-yes. Yet the things also have some value most Skaven cannot appreciate-understand. Besides it's worth it to have an enemy-friend for someone even as favored by the Great Horned One like you-you." [3]
"I might need a favor-bargain from you."
"Which is why we should go eat."
Both rats mounted themselves on their palanquins, waiting for other Grey Seers to leave. Walking down a causeway in Skavenblight were two palanquins that could not be any more different. One was simple and made of wood, with iron reinforcing it, with the only decoration of note being a simple triangle, and held aloft by stormvermin decorated in typical grey armor. The other was ornately carved from a material that Skritnitch only knew as Chu, and carried by stormvermin wearing armor inspired by Cathay. [4]
The Palanquins stopped in front of a location with a shop that was more than a collection of hastily assembled planks. It looked more like a man-thing tavern, and Skritnitch had seen a few considering he preferred trying to manage the many fronts of the Under-Empire, then the tiresome politicking of the Council of Thirteen. The sign in front of the store read Tseng's Cathayan Chowhouse, which both rats entered, after motioning their guards to go leave.
The establishment looked clean by Skaven standards. It's patrons were a mix of stormvermin, deathrunners, warlock engineers, and the occasional plague monk. All of whom bowed before them as the two Grey Seers entered the building. Skadich had walked towards one of the skavenslaves, who nearly soiled themselves then and there
"Oh Great and powerful Grey Seers, we are." Before the slave could finish, the usually Jovial Grey Seer gave a look so harsh the slave began to squirt fear musk.
"Cease-stop." Skadich barked harshly. "Me and my enemy-friend need to have custom fortune cookies, take us to the back."
"Right away, mighty ones, follow me-me."
Both rats found themselves in a kitchen where a few rats with the aptitude for cooking were forced to work with a slightly dirty man-thing working as a sort of overseer. Yet they did not look like any of the men Skritnitch encountered. The man turned toward Skadich and shouted something in a language he could not make out, only for Skadich to reply in the same language.
"Write-inscribe your message on that slip of paper, and I shall read it when we get our food."
"Is that safe-secure?" Skritnitch was not entirely privy to what might be the secrets of the Eshin.
"Only if you write in Seer script so no one can read-snoop, save another Grey Seer. Don't mind-worry, it was something I picked up from Cathay during my time there. But it is not real-accurate Cathyan-thing food, just a thing for some outsider-foreigners, Anyway what do you want to eat-consume?" [5]
"What would you recommend-suggest?"
"Hm living dangerous-reckless are we? You're not afraid I would poison you-you?" Skadich smirked.
"Assuming the food alone does not-not?" Skadich's scowled gave armored Grey Seer a rare smile. "No-no, you enjoy making me suffer through your food and dice games enough to kill me otherwise."
"Hmph." Skadich had left to go order, leaving the armored grey seer to go look at the rest of the establishment. Skritnitch felt strange seeing the architecture of the things from above making it down below. It also seemed strange to see Skaven just sitting down and eating, it seems he had been away from civilization for far too long.
Skadich had come back with two plates of food. It was a mixture of what looked like Tilean pasta, some assorted chunks of meat, and some poorly farmed vegetables. Skritnitch noticed the other grey seer broke the unfamiliar looking food and read what was inside.
"So you need-desire someone who can fight but not draw attention like a large army. I know one such rat, I employ-keep a few Eshin Triads on retainer within my stormvermin guard. As a gift or more accurately or an amusement-joke, I want to call in a favor with Clan Rictus, but you have to promise to describe the look-stare on Queek's face when you bring a unit of Rictus Stormvermin into the City of Pillars." [6]
"Your generosity knows no boundary-limits, truly." Skritnitch remarked flatly.
"While we are here, do you want to play dogmeat?" Skritnitch only looked on in confusion "it is a card game like some of those played between stormvermin under the Empire or Bretonnia. I learned-acquired it from an enemy-friend, Prince Zhang of Zhongchang." [7]
"No-no. I just want to be on my way. How will I get Kratch to even send me aid, and where is this rat of yours." [8]
"Take this token, there should be a barracks-warren for Rictus troops in Skavenblight." Skadich said, handing a token with five triangles on it. "As for the rat." Skadich simply thumped his tail loudly three times. At this signal, a single black furred stormvermin staggered over to the table reeking of booze, that Skritnitch nearly recoiled at the smell.
"What in the all the nine circles of Hell Pit is this, some rat that thinks it is a Dwarf-thing? What am I supposed to do, use-apply his vomit as some form of escape tactic? A real-authentic second Deathmaster, you got here." [8]
Skadich only sighed before turning towards the disoriented rat. "Master Triad Swiftpaw please kill the targets sitting in the booth." The Grey Seer pointed pointed his paw towards a Warlock Engineer, Plague Priest, and two Stormvermin captains.
Without saying a word, Swiftpaw shaved down the ends of two chopsticks, and threw them. Skritnitch looked on, as one pierced the throat of the Plague Priest, while the other went through the one remaining eye of the Warlock Engineer. The Stormvermin captains quickly drew their swords, but Swiftpaw was already closing in on them, seemingly dancing by their clumsy strikes.
Rolling under one of the captain's strikes, Swiftpaw disarmed the captain before kicking him away. Picking up with the sword with his tail and backflipping, Swiftpaw proceeded to duel the other captain, quickly overwhelming him with a series of strikes before cutting off an arm and then his head. Swiftpaw tossed the sword aside to rush the remaining captain who bared his claws, only to be struck in the knee by a kick from Swiftpaw. Grabbing an arm with his tail, Swiftpaw moved in to rip the captain's throat out with his left paw, leaving the rat to choke on his own blood while he drunkenly bowed to all present, with a few nervous claps and cheers breaking out.
A brown-furred rat quickly moved to oversee the aftermath. "Hm, throw the captains, and the engineer to the skavenslaves, and burn the priest."
"How generous of you-you, Krask." Skadich remarked sarcastically to the brown rat who nearly paled.
"Oh, Mighty-great lord, the customer's do not get to eat-feast twice unless they pay, and the food occasionally mutates the slaves I can sell-trade for later." Skaditch only chuckled and proceeded to talk to his fellow Grey Seer.
"I am mistaken-wrong it seems that rat is good for something after all." Skritnitch's praise fell flat as he turned in confusion as he saw the other rat simply began drinking another drink.
"The Eshin have their methods, you have capable-effective claws at your disposal." Skadich remarked with smug look on his face.
"Indeed. I would like-desire to leave. One can hope-believe having to see the Headtaker would be the worst part of this trip." Skadich gave a curt nod as Skritnitch left along with Swiftpaw.
Both rats were heading towards Skritnitch's palanquin. "Before we go-leave, I must visit the local Rictus barracks-nest." Skritnitch had remarked off-handedly.
"I will practice my drawling skills to get the look of the Headtaker's snout, when we see-surprise him. Oh Great One." The black-furred rat remarked in a half reverent tone that the Grey Seer dismissed.
"Assuming, you can even do anything else than drink and fight, strange-bizarre one." Skritnitch's ears where only met by drunken laughter.
An hour had passed and out from one of the caves of the Under-Empire a four units of Stormvermin bearing the symbol of Clan Rictus surrounding Skritnitch's palanquin had began their march toward the City of Pillar's as the Horned Rat had dictated.
[1] Cathay is an old name for China, and is the *clever* name of Warhammer's until now barely mentioned and barely used China analogue. A Pibian is type of Chinese headgear for nobles, I believe for princes.
[2] This is a who's who of notable Grey Seers. Thanqol requires little elaboration, but gained fame through Gotrek and Felix. Rasknitt and Vukscreek come from Vermintide, and Total Warhammer 2, the rest are minor Grey Seer's. Razzel however is a Grey Seer who has the dubious privilege of being stationed at the City of Pillars. Thratquee's hedonism, and acceptance of the just having the 'Thing's goods over ruling them was part of my inspiration for Skaditch. The Skaven I believe are tolerated in Cathay proper at least in the older lore, but Clan Eshin does advise one of the Dragon Emperor's rivals the Monkey King. Mind you this was imagined before the new Cathay lore dropped.
[3] I have a sort of headcannon that Clan Eshin are Xenophilic, well for Skaven. Not just in their martial arts, but that one Eshin Poisoner remarked that Goblins had potential, especially considering Goblins propensity for sneak attacks. Huangjiu is a type of Chinese wine. Basically this is if is not clear already, this is a Grey Seer, who went slightly native.
[4] Another name for Bamboo.
[5] A reference to the fact, Fortune Cookies are not genuinely Chinese food, despite only coming with Chinese food in America.
[6] Eshin Triads are Clan Eshin Stormvermin
[7] Dogmeat is a slang for Pai Gow, a gambling game of cards in this case, but also Chinese Dominoes, which themselves might have been a precursor to Western Dominoes.
[8] Hell Pit the base of Clan Moulder, like the typical version of Hell from the Divine Comedy by Dante is comprised of nine circles.
This is a bit different from introducing another two other candidates, I found myself engrossed with exploring the personal relationship of two Grey Seers, and I guess a slice of Skaven 'civilian' society since I wanted to give my Grey Seer OC, a little bit more of the spotlight. Not to mention I've had bigger plans for Skritnitch for a long while, and his as well as Swiftpaw's introduction in an earlier draft was rather sudden. Also I hope Skaven Enemy-Friendship that leans slightly towards friendship is not blasphemous.
16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
By the way, I think you did the Skaven justice I always hate it when some writers present them as a unified horde when they had two civil wars and were probably on the brink of a third during the end times given most of the council only wanted to move the moon and pretty much just Skryre and their vassals wanted to explode it, etc etc.
They've always been varied culturally and it's mostly been fear of the GHR keeping them from going off and forming dozens of dozens of states rather than a true unity among them.
The new Cathay lore still includes the monkey king, he's just not in the game yet. So I'd actually be shocked if Skavendom isn't given a new place in TWW3 immortal empires, afterall the trailer showed they are bringing the Skaven back in a major way, the first notable thing being allowing for alliences with nurglites, probably inspired by vermintide and AOS.
So I wouldn't sweat it.
Queek is a more interesting character in my eyes compared to Thanquol who probably has only survived so long because GHR finds his failures which inevitably cause much destruction to be amusing.
They've always been varied culturally and it's mostly been fear of the GHR keeping them from going off and forming dozens of dozens of states rather than a true unity among them.
The new Cathay lore still includes the monkey king, he's just not in the game yet. So I'd actually be shocked if Skavendom isn't given a new place in TWW3 immortal empires, afterall the trailer showed they are bringing the Skaven back in a major way, the first notable thing being allowing for alliences with nurglites, probably inspired by vermintide and AOS.
So I wouldn't sweat it.
Queek is a more interesting character in my eyes compared to Thanquol who probably has only survived so long because GHR finds his failures which inevitably cause much destruction to be amusing.
Part 6: The Crooked and the Chosen of Khaine
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
Apologies but I hope my use of Greenskin speak isn't too bad.
July 28th, 2016
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
'W'ere em I? Dis ain't me frone room in Eight Peaks. Ah zog, Dere's light everywhere! Wait, I'm not all burnt, and my skin looks like a humie's.' The figure realized that this body was not their own. 'Okay, I needz to stay calm, Dis ain't me body and dis looks like fancy humie stuff, so I'm a humie now, luvly. Oi, wats dis glowin fing.' The figure grabbed the glowing item and images flooded into their mind, but it only took them seconds to regain their composure.
So I'm in da body of dis Hillahry Klinton humie to run and be dis Prezident ov da United Statz. Dis Klinton gurl'in seemz clevah enuff ta rule Eight Peaks in me place, but whatz dis fam'ly ov hers? Wait ta minute, Boarz and Wolvez rut ta make more ov demselvez, so do tha humies. Hillary Clinton's face made a sickened expression upon the realization.
'At least Gobbla's in good hands. I best get explorin an find dis Kaine fella, whooz me runnin mate. Perhaps dis Space Bat git hates me so much he sent dat git Grimgor ta be me running mate, all choppin and smashin, but no taste for cunnin planz.'
Hillary began to walk towards what was known as the lobby, trying not to stand out too much in scanning the faces of everyone there, but one stood out glaring at her. It was her running mate Tim Kaine who seemed to walk over in a way that seemed proud, like on them pansy elfs.
"Ah Hillary how are you?" asked a figure that Hillary knew to be Tim Kaine, at least for now.
Hillary stood for a few seconds before finding the words "Hi Tim, how are you?" 'Reikspiel, English whatevah. Stupid hoomies ave too many languages.
"Fine, in fact, I feel like a new person, how about you?" Kaine asked in return, making Skarnik suspicious.
"I do too, in fact in a dream, I swore I was something called a Night Goblin, who went by the name Skarsnik, The Warlord of Karak Eight Peaks. It sounds insane right?" Hillary laughed nervously at the end. 'So den "Kaine" who are ya?'
'So that is who 'she' really is. This insipid bat paired me up with a greenskin?' Kaine's eyes had widened before turning to a look of understanding. At least if the reports and that alleged biography are true then at least this "Warlord" is intelligent for his misbegotten kind.' [1]
"If that is true, then I am Malekith, the true heir of Aenarion, and the Witch King of Naggaroth."
Both figures walked toward the end of unused row seats while they started talking on the way.
"So youz me runnin mate? Heh heh, a dark elf pansy beatz havin dat git Grimgor, he'd just go n kill da otherz." Skarsnik's voice was quiet, twisting the woman's face into a sinister smile, and dropping any pretense of using this English.
"Would you not just poison them, and me, Greenskin wretch?" Malekith said, ignoring Skarsnik's insult, while The Night Goblin gave his question thought as they finally sat down.
Skarsnik smiled in response. "Yeah, but deres not enuf time in da world ta do dat. So howz we gonna win dis elecshun?" Skarsnik asked.
"This Clinton woman is apparently seen as not trustworthy by some people, as fitting as it is for you, that is a problem for us"
"Oi datz a point in this Girlun's favah. So what do we gotta do to be more trust, trusts, trustwurfy?" Skarsnik said struggling with that last word.
"That is not an easy question, this 'mass media' likes to stir up all sorts of insanity that people are willing to believe. Supposedly you are an evil woman, referred to by one of your opponents as crooked," Malekith explained
"Crooked eh, I likez dis girlun more an more. Ya fink I shud turn dat into somethin good?" Skarsnik suggested.
"That could help you appear more relatable, but we do have a need for policies. If you are to succeed this 'President Obama' but will we continue everything he has done to the letter or make some changes?"
"Hm, we needz to take a look at doze one at a time." A thought soon came to Skarsnik "Say, if youz da king of dem nasty pansies, why aren't ya acting all igh and mighty?"
"I could care less about this contest to care about taking orders from a greenskin. Since you seem to be smart, or what passes for smart among your filth, this campaign will not be as disastrous as it could be." The Elf king's disinterest
"I fink you gotz a point, you dark pansy gits are sneaky, maybe not like us gobbos or dose ratties, but at least I knowz you got sum cunnin planz ta use. So what we'z doin about dis platform, we dont needz ta stand on anyfing do we?" Skarsnik was anxious to understand more about this confusing world.
"Literally no, but supposedly we have to look out for the disadvantaged and the weak. This is apparently what passes for leadership in this land, politics in this nation is all scheming and no bloodshed." Malekith gave a look of disgust that Skarsnik shared.
"Dats a real shame even those ratties like a good knife in da back. Dis girlun I can respect dat she had ta claw her way from da bottom." Skarsnik approved of his host, she in some ways reminded him of his younger days as a runt. "Say, howz dat Kane Humie?"
"I don't particularly care about this man, but he could be worse," Malektith outwardly had a tone of indifference, but inside was different. 'This man has a wife and 3 children, a life I never had the chance to experience, not being in pain or almost driven insane will take some getting used to. Am I going to hate every moment of this abominable contest?' "Do we have a goal going forward?"
"I gotz it, I knows what we can use to be, uh whats da word, rahlatable? We keep appeelin to deez lowah clazzez, and we campain in ev'ry place der iz. Dez humies sure are daft."
"That seems sound, if disgusting. Then we must also worry about dissidents within this Democratic Party. we have to negotiate and convince them to support us as well."
"Hm I like a gud challenge, but itz a shame we can't kill deez gits, but I nevah used wordz to win me battles." Skarsnik was disappointed but was curious to try.
"Indeed, although I would much rather see the fear drain color drain out of their bodies before slaying them, at least we only have three months of this foolish contest."
IC 2521
Karak Eight Peaks (Greenskin Controlled Area) [2]
"How did it come to this, I went to sleep ready to metaphorically fight against traditional old men. Now I wake up ready to actually fight against traditional old men with beards, and giant rats. All because I've swapped places with a person with the tendencies those conspiracy theorists wish I had." Hillary Clinton, could barely comprehend where she ended up.
"Knowing my luck he'll actually have someone murdered, then again jail could be a nice escape from it all if I am going insane. At least the fact he has a pet means I can at least hope everyone won't be killed. Gobbla seems cute, for a bouncing ball of teeth." The ex-senator ranted to no one in particular.
"Oh Mork I knowz, I'm yur chosen gobbo, but cant ya chooz someone else fur a change?" Hillary said, trying to get the hang of her new language.
The fire that was lit in Skarsnik's chambers went out. Hillary looked confused only for the fire to take the shape of what Hillary knew to be an Orc before the fire changed into an actual orc! The orc wore a variety of paints on his body but his face had white face paint.
"So ya fink your right funny don't cha girlun?" The Orc had what appeared to be a small smile on his face or at least what passed for one on an Orc.
'Girlun? Why does he think I'm a woman? These Goblins don't have genders, or I'm least one of the 'Ladz' now.' "No, it'z just me and da ladz, if any stupid humie or stunty, girluns are here, I'll feed em to Gobbla, and if dey iz one of those giant ratties, the ladz and I ill have dinner for several dayz, rattie babies are quite tasty." She couldn't believe she went that far, hopefully, that would work.
"Heh dats brutal, I likez dat." The figure had said with approval before turning serious. "But I knowz who you are, and what you are, humie." Hillary froze. "Lyin to a god takes guts, if I weren't in a bettah mood, I'd eat yourz. I also knowz bout dat fiddla on dat roof, so watch what godz you talk bout ere, you nevah know whoz listenin. Anywayz you've been chosen cuz I figured you'd be da best fit, you gotz da smarts, you've managed to go from a runt to a boss in you're world. If your likez dat piss you call beer in yur world humie, ya bettah get used to bitters and fungus brew"
This revelation did more to terrify Hillary than make her mad at the assumption she was anything like this Skarsnik, how did people from other worlds know of this Earth? Did this mean God or some other gods existed?
"So who are you?" Hillary asked, finally working up the strength to ask a question but still unnerved.
"Mork, who else would I be? Now den I needz ta leave, I'd be sorry bout da mess with your shaman's but you brought dat on yourself."
Mork had transformed back into the fire and left.
Hillary heard footsteps racing towards the door, she picked up her proder, and moved towards the door.
"Uh Boss, we gotz a problem," It was a goblin boss Hillary knew to be Biggagit Facesplita, who had the derogatory nickname of Arsekissa due to his tendency to be eager to please.
"If dis is bad news I'll feed ya to Gobbla." Hillary threatened in the darkest voice she could muster in this body.
"Uh, no oh great and mighty Warlord of Eight Peaks, it's just all da shaman's started acting weird, some threw up, otherz let out crap, some just started dancin like mad." Biggagit said, hoping to not end up as Gobbla's next meal.
"Well, get some of da ladz, ta clean it up!" As for as Biggagit knew, the boss was just barked at him, who quickly ran to give out orders, he certainly wasn't going to suffer for this.
'Because life never wants to stop crapping on my parade, apparently in more ways than one. Well, I did call down a god, I hope the man upstairs understands. If I ever make it out of this and somehow end up as president I'm resolving to get two cabinets, one filled with the best and brightest of minds, the other with enough liquor to make Grant seem sober.'
2521
Naggarond, Naggaroth
'The pain, the pain. Sweet Jesus the pain.'
The figure had gotten up from their bed which was surrounded by wards. The moment they stepped out they were met with searing pain throughout their whole body and looked for a mirror, but upon finding one, their green eyes widened in shock.
"What the hell is all this, what the hell happened to my face, why am I even here."
The figure saw their own face, or rather their new face, it looked as if they were heavily burned, possibly even enough to be dead, but what stood more than their pointed ears was their bright green eyes. [3]
"What am I?"
"Is there something wrong, my son." The figure was a young scantily clad woman, apparently this person's mother, but their emphasis on the last word indicated suspicion.
Before they could answer her they saw a glowing object and touched it.
As memories came into their head, they began to grow angry. "You are a monster, I should kill you for what you've done." They finally had a name for "his" mother, Morathi. [4]
As Tim walked outside the wards his mind was plagued by visions of unspeakable horror, but before it could continue he saw Morathi push him back inside the wards
"You Fool! I knew you weren't my son, you seem far too soft and stupid to be him, so tell me who are you really?" Morathi had asked with fierce anger in her eyes.
"I should not be here, I am Tim Kaine from Virginia."
"How fitting of a last name, as you will partake in the bloody slaughter expected to keep your rule, I only back you because you inhabit my son's body. Make no mistake, if my son returning to his body or this world is not possible, I will destroy you. Now, you cannot walk outside those wards without your helmet, as for the rest of your body you're stuck in that armor. [5]
Tim had reached for his helmet and placed it on his head. 'I do not wish to be a monster, and somewhere deep down neither does this man, er elf. I can only hope he does not unleash his fury upon my family.' But he had to steel himself, the Black Court awaited him. Apparently politics was a game of literal life and death here.
[1] Skarsnik by Guy Haley, is framed in-universe as a biography written by Jeremiah von Bickenstadt.
[2] Karak Eight Peaks is a Dwarven Fortress that is controlled by three parties. Clan Anglund under Belegar Ironhammer seeks to reclaim the hold for his clan, they control only one of the Eight Peaks. Skarsnik and the Crooked Moon control three peaks, and lastly Clan Mors controls the remaining four.
[3] Malekith's armor is riveted to his body and for it to be removed it would kill him. I'm taking a bit of leeway and making it more literal: he cannot survive without his armor but nothing was ever said about his helmet. Also, I've probably wanted a mental image of Malekith without his helmet or mask, just for its own sake.
[4] Morathi is Malekith's mother and a powerful sorceress who is loyal to her son in her own way.
[5] I decided to make a compromise with the removable helmet. Malekith can take it off but like Darth Vader from Star Wars only within a certain area, like Vader's meditation chamber. While Malekith does not risk death, he does risk being driven insane by maddening visions without the Circlet of Iron that is forged into his helmet.
July 28th, 2016
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
'W'ere em I? Dis ain't me frone room in Eight Peaks. Ah zog, Dere's light everywhere! Wait, I'm not all burnt, and my skin looks like a humie's.' The figure realized that this body was not their own. 'Okay, I needz to stay calm, Dis ain't me body and dis looks like fancy humie stuff, so I'm a humie now, luvly. Oi, wats dis glowin fing.' The figure grabbed the glowing item and images flooded into their mind, but it only took them seconds to regain their composure.
So I'm in da body of dis Hillahry Klinton humie to run and be dis Prezident ov da United Statz. Dis Klinton gurl'in seemz clevah enuff ta rule Eight Peaks in me place, but whatz dis fam'ly ov hers? Wait ta minute, Boarz and Wolvez rut ta make more ov demselvez, so do tha humies. Hillary Clinton's face made a sickened expression upon the realization.
'At least Gobbla's in good hands. I best get explorin an find dis Kaine fella, whooz me runnin mate. Perhaps dis Space Bat git hates me so much he sent dat git Grimgor ta be me running mate, all choppin and smashin, but no taste for cunnin planz.'
Hillary began to walk towards what was known as the lobby, trying not to stand out too much in scanning the faces of everyone there, but one stood out glaring at her. It was her running mate Tim Kaine who seemed to walk over in a way that seemed proud, like on them pansy elfs.
"Ah Hillary how are you?" asked a figure that Hillary knew to be Tim Kaine, at least for now.
Hillary stood for a few seconds before finding the words "Hi Tim, how are you?" 'Reikspiel, English whatevah. Stupid hoomies ave too many languages.
"Fine, in fact, I feel like a new person, how about you?" Kaine asked in return, making Skarnik suspicious.
"I do too, in fact in a dream, I swore I was something called a Night Goblin, who went by the name Skarsnik, The Warlord of Karak Eight Peaks. It sounds insane right?" Hillary laughed nervously at the end. 'So den "Kaine" who are ya?'
'So that is who 'she' really is. This insipid bat paired me up with a greenskin?' Kaine's eyes had widened before turning to a look of understanding. At least if the reports and that alleged biography are true then at least this "Warlord" is intelligent for his misbegotten kind.' [1]
"If that is true, then I am Malekith, the true heir of Aenarion, and the Witch King of Naggaroth."
Both figures walked toward the end of unused row seats while they started talking on the way.
"So youz me runnin mate? Heh heh, a dark elf pansy beatz havin dat git Grimgor, he'd just go n kill da otherz." Skarsnik's voice was quiet, twisting the woman's face into a sinister smile, and dropping any pretense of using this English.
"Would you not just poison them, and me, Greenskin wretch?" Malekith said, ignoring Skarsnik's insult, while The Night Goblin gave his question thought as they finally sat down.
Skarsnik smiled in response. "Yeah, but deres not enuf time in da world ta do dat. So howz we gonna win dis elecshun?" Skarsnik asked.
"This Clinton woman is apparently seen as not trustworthy by some people, as fitting as it is for you, that is a problem for us"
"Oi datz a point in this Girlun's favah. So what do we gotta do to be more trust, trusts, trustwurfy?" Skarsnik said struggling with that last word.
"That is not an easy question, this 'mass media' likes to stir up all sorts of insanity that people are willing to believe. Supposedly you are an evil woman, referred to by one of your opponents as crooked," Malekith explained
"Crooked eh, I likez dis girlun more an more. Ya fink I shud turn dat into somethin good?" Skarsnik suggested.
"That could help you appear more relatable, but we do have a need for policies. If you are to succeed this 'President Obama' but will we continue everything he has done to the letter or make some changes?"
"Hm, we needz to take a look at doze one at a time." A thought soon came to Skarsnik "Say, if youz da king of dem nasty pansies, why aren't ya acting all igh and mighty?"
"I could care less about this contest to care about taking orders from a greenskin. Since you seem to be smart, or what passes for smart among your filth, this campaign will not be as disastrous as it could be." The Elf king's disinterest
"I fink you gotz a point, you dark pansy gits are sneaky, maybe not like us gobbos or dose ratties, but at least I knowz you got sum cunnin planz ta use. So what we'z doin about dis platform, we dont needz ta stand on anyfing do we?" Skarsnik was anxious to understand more about this confusing world.
"Literally no, but supposedly we have to look out for the disadvantaged and the weak. This is apparently what passes for leadership in this land, politics in this nation is all scheming and no bloodshed." Malekith gave a look of disgust that Skarsnik shared.
"Dats a real shame even those ratties like a good knife in da back. Dis girlun I can respect dat she had ta claw her way from da bottom." Skarsnik approved of his host, she in some ways reminded him of his younger days as a runt. "Say, howz dat Kane Humie?"
"I don't particularly care about this man, but he could be worse," Malektith outwardly had a tone of indifference, but inside was different. 'This man has a wife and 3 children, a life I never had the chance to experience, not being in pain or almost driven insane will take some getting used to. Am I going to hate every moment of this abominable contest?' "Do we have a goal going forward?"
"I gotz it, I knows what we can use to be, uh whats da word, rahlatable? We keep appeelin to deez lowah clazzez, and we campain in ev'ry place der iz. Dez humies sure are daft."
"That seems sound, if disgusting. Then we must also worry about dissidents within this Democratic Party. we have to negotiate and convince them to support us as well."
"Hm I like a gud challenge, but itz a shame we can't kill deez gits, but I nevah used wordz to win me battles." Skarsnik was disappointed but was curious to try.
"Indeed, although I would much rather see the fear drain color drain out of their bodies before slaying them, at least we only have three months of this foolish contest."
IC 2521
Karak Eight Peaks (Greenskin Controlled Area) [2]
"How did it come to this, I went to sleep ready to metaphorically fight against traditional old men. Now I wake up ready to actually fight against traditional old men with beards, and giant rats. All because I've swapped places with a person with the tendencies those conspiracy theorists wish I had." Hillary Clinton, could barely comprehend where she ended up.
"Knowing my luck he'll actually have someone murdered, then again jail could be a nice escape from it all if I am going insane. At least the fact he has a pet means I can at least hope everyone won't be killed. Gobbla seems cute, for a bouncing ball of teeth." The ex-senator ranted to no one in particular.
"Oh Mork I knowz, I'm yur chosen gobbo, but cant ya chooz someone else fur a change?" Hillary said, trying to get the hang of her new language.
The fire that was lit in Skarsnik's chambers went out. Hillary looked confused only for the fire to take the shape of what Hillary knew to be an Orc before the fire changed into an actual orc! The orc wore a variety of paints on his body but his face had white face paint.
"So ya fink your right funny don't cha girlun?" The Orc had what appeared to be a small smile on his face or at least what passed for one on an Orc.
'Girlun? Why does he think I'm a woman? These Goblins don't have genders, or I'm least one of the 'Ladz' now.' "No, it'z just me and da ladz, if any stupid humie or stunty, girluns are here, I'll feed em to Gobbla, and if dey iz one of those giant ratties, the ladz and I ill have dinner for several dayz, rattie babies are quite tasty." She couldn't believe she went that far, hopefully, that would work.
"Heh dats brutal, I likez dat." The figure had said with approval before turning serious. "But I knowz who you are, and what you are, humie." Hillary froze. "Lyin to a god takes guts, if I weren't in a bettah mood, I'd eat yourz. I also knowz bout dat fiddla on dat roof, so watch what godz you talk bout ere, you nevah know whoz listenin. Anywayz you've been chosen cuz I figured you'd be da best fit, you gotz da smarts, you've managed to go from a runt to a boss in you're world. If your likez dat piss you call beer in yur world humie, ya bettah get used to bitters and fungus brew"
This revelation did more to terrify Hillary than make her mad at the assumption she was anything like this Skarsnik, how did people from other worlds know of this Earth? Did this mean God or some other gods existed?
"So who are you?" Hillary asked, finally working up the strength to ask a question but still unnerved.
"Mork, who else would I be? Now den I needz ta leave, I'd be sorry bout da mess with your shaman's but you brought dat on yourself."
Mork had transformed back into the fire and left.
Hillary heard footsteps racing towards the door, she picked up her proder, and moved towards the door.
"Uh Boss, we gotz a problem," It was a goblin boss Hillary knew to be Biggagit Facesplita, who had the derogatory nickname of Arsekissa due to his tendency to be eager to please.
"If dis is bad news I'll feed ya to Gobbla." Hillary threatened in the darkest voice she could muster in this body.
"Uh, no oh great and mighty Warlord of Eight Peaks, it's just all da shaman's started acting weird, some threw up, otherz let out crap, some just started dancin like mad." Biggagit said, hoping to not end up as Gobbla's next meal.
"Well, get some of da ladz, ta clean it up!" As for as Biggagit knew, the boss was just barked at him, who quickly ran to give out orders, he certainly wasn't going to suffer for this.
'Because life never wants to stop crapping on my parade, apparently in more ways than one. Well, I did call down a god, I hope the man upstairs understands. If I ever make it out of this and somehow end up as president I'm resolving to get two cabinets, one filled with the best and brightest of minds, the other with enough liquor to make Grant seem sober.'
2521
Naggarond, Naggaroth
'The pain, the pain. Sweet Jesus the pain.'
The figure had gotten up from their bed which was surrounded by wards. The moment they stepped out they were met with searing pain throughout their whole body and looked for a mirror, but upon finding one, their green eyes widened in shock.
"What the hell is all this, what the hell happened to my face, why am I even here."
The figure saw their own face, or rather their new face, it looked as if they were heavily burned, possibly even enough to be dead, but what stood more than their pointed ears was their bright green eyes. [3]
"What am I?"
"Is there something wrong, my son." The figure was a young scantily clad woman, apparently this person's mother, but their emphasis on the last word indicated suspicion.
Before they could answer her they saw a glowing object and touched it.
As memories came into their head, they began to grow angry. "You are a monster, I should kill you for what you've done." They finally had a name for "his" mother, Morathi. [4]
As Tim walked outside the wards his mind was plagued by visions of unspeakable horror, but before it could continue he saw Morathi push him back inside the wards
"You Fool! I knew you weren't my son, you seem far too soft and stupid to be him, so tell me who are you really?" Morathi had asked with fierce anger in her eyes.
"I should not be here, I am Tim Kaine from Virginia."
"How fitting of a last name, as you will partake in the bloody slaughter expected to keep your rule, I only back you because you inhabit my son's body. Make no mistake, if my son returning to his body or this world is not possible, I will destroy you. Now, you cannot walk outside those wards without your helmet, as for the rest of your body you're stuck in that armor. [5]
Tim had reached for his helmet and placed it on his head. 'I do not wish to be a monster, and somewhere deep down neither does this man, er elf. I can only hope he does not unleash his fury upon my family.' But he had to steel himself, the Black Court awaited him. Apparently politics was a game of literal life and death here.
[1] Skarsnik by Guy Haley, is framed in-universe as a biography written by Jeremiah von Bickenstadt.
[2] Karak Eight Peaks is a Dwarven Fortress that is controlled by three parties. Clan Anglund under Belegar Ironhammer seeks to reclaim the hold for his clan, they control only one of the Eight Peaks. Skarsnik and the Crooked Moon control three peaks, and lastly Clan Mors controls the remaining four.
[3] Malekith's armor is riveted to his body and for it to be removed it would kill him. I'm taking a bit of leeway and making it more literal: he cannot survive without his armor but nothing was ever said about his helmet. Also, I've probably wanted a mental image of Malekith without his helmet or mask, just for its own sake.
[4] Morathi is Malekith's mother and a powerful sorceress who is loyal to her son in her own way.
[5] I decided to make a compromise with the removable helmet. Malekith can take it off but like Darth Vader from Star Wars only within a certain area, like Vader's meditation chamber. While Malekith does not risk death, he does risk being driven insane by maddening visions without the Circlet of Iron that is forged into his helmet.
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K von Carstein
Likes to go for a walk
- Location
- Belgium
- Pronouns
- He
Nice idea for a pic. I'll follow that with interest.
Part 7: Grave Realizations
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
CW: Suicide
IC 2521
Castle Drakenhof
It had taken several nights for Mike Pence to get used to his body. Feeding was only needed to vainly keep his looks, so he did not have to cross that line, at least not yet, but November would be months away and what would he do until then? Trying to make the most of this new land was difficult because the people were backward and superstitious.
However that could wait, word of a rather powerful necromancer was coming soon to pay a visit and asked to see him in particular, it was a necromancer by the name of Heinrich Kemmler.
"My Master, we have a guest." one of the local servants.
"Very well bring them in," Pence commanded.
The servant opened the door to let the guest in the door and Pence looked at the man. He could see Heinrich's facial features start to slowly change. Gone was the small beard of an older man into that of a younger man who was bald, but with an unkempt stubble. The man seemed to have sunken, bloodshot eyes, and his skin looked pale with his veins visible, while Heinrich looked at him in surprise.
"You are not Mannfred, I see you for who you really are." Heinrich had said in a deep voice that seemed strangely more German than other living people Mike had seen thus far. Heinrich's eyes widened and he doubled over. "NO! You damned fool, of all the times to take over, why now?" Again Mike was more confused than anything and wondered what that meant he did not recall this man having a split personality.
"You don't appear to be Heinrich either, I can see you for who you really are as well." This voice was somehow much different.
A weary smile crossed this man's exhausted and sleep-deprived face. "Heh, Can you? I'm a long-dead man who wishes there was such a thing as Hell, so many years rallying against Christianity and the thought of its damnation beats this wretched excuse of existence."
Hell, Christianity? Maybe we come from the same world, that must be why I can see him. "How do you know what those are?"
"I come from a land called Germany, I believe you have heard of it, I am Heinrich Himmler, who are you?"
No, no, you can't be. You are long dead! The war was decades ago, you killed yourself!" Pence could not believe what he was hearing. Even for this current situation.
"Believe me I wish it was permanent, yet here we are in the bodies of a Necromancer and a Vampire or do you deny that too?" Pence shook his head in response. "So you at least know who I am, but I ask again who are you?"
"I am Michael Richard Pence of the United States of America,"
Heinrich's demeanor began to change, and his eyes grew wider. "You're an American, oh the things I've seen." Heinrich began to calm down slightly before returning back to an almost tired state.
"Between the horrors that Kemmler commits, the images that these Chaos Gods put inside my head, and what I suffered, such as being attacked by zombies from the camps, that would be bad enough. However, these Gods have told that bastard Kemmler of my suffering. He killed 3 kids and named their reanimated corpses after my own children, then he danced and played games with them. He did that out of revenge,"
Pence could not believe he felt some degree of sympathy for the man, then again he supposed this was the closest he would get to Hell.
"Why are you telling me this?" Pence was curious if he was the Heinrich Himmler, why reveal himself like this? "If you can take control couldn't you just have killed yourself?" Pence could not believe what he was saying. Surely a few nights in this cursed existence couldn't have brought him this far to think such a sin was preferable.
"Do you honestly think I did not try? I slit my own throat the first chance I got. My own patron and the Chaos Gods did not like that. I've taken to drinking to get back at that bastard. Once you get past the constant trauma, it's actually not bad, heh I drank some of that Dwarven beer for saving some traders that came from this place called Karak Norn. It's strong enough to dull the pain, but not as nostalgic as that Bretonnian wine.
Himmler flashed a small smile that seemed out of place "Truth be told I don't care if you're American, hell I'm glad you are here." seeing the man's smile had started to make Pence uneasy. "Tell me something, Mr. Pence, was it? Does this world seem too familiar to you, those names that sound German or French, or even Italian and Spanish?
"Yes, it seems almost as crazy as magic being real." Pence continued to listen but was getting annoyed. Surely this man did not come to rant about his life story, well he wasn't alive anymore, so it would be his death story?"
"You don't know what it is like to wonder if your whole life is some kind of lie or even a fantasy, written as if some author was an uncaring god, and all your life is nothing more than a fabrication for something's amusement, especially since my sense of time has been thrown off. At least if you know if I am here then everything was real after all, at least I know I'm not mad." Himmler had started to calm down.
"I do not wish to be rude, but is there a point to you being here?"
"Very well. I have been brought here by Nagash himself, but Kemmler does not know that. Nagash spoke to me to obtain your assistance in resurrecting him, he knows a powerful Vampire would be replaced at least in spirit or mind if you will, at least for a short period of time.
Anger had crossed Pence's face ."The creator of this abominable magic knew this would happen to me?"
"No." Pence had started to calm down "Only that Mannfred would be out of his body. Your only other alternative would be to help Kemmler. He and the Dark Gods of Chaos are not to be trusted. But whatever you do, do not die, if you die here, you lose any chance of being able to return to your body. Himmler warned Pence in Kemmler's gravelly voice.
Pence at least knew that Nagash was the first Necromancer, but Mannfred believed that perhaps most of his power was just legends and myth. Yet here a long-dead man from his own world is here. Now he has to hope the immortal monster that's in his body does not die, or else he is stuck here.
"I have a request Mr. Pence, can you please tell me, what has happened since my death, is there even a Germany, did the Soviets have the last laugh?"
Before Pence could answer Himmler began to convulse and his features seemed to change back to Kemmler's.
"Argh, has that miserable fool done anything of importance, or does he just complain about what kind of a monster I am, and how sad his situation is? Kemmler's face twisted into a smile, and he began to laugh as if he had heard the funniest joke.
"That fool believes himself a member of a superior race and believed in the equally foolish superstitions of his gods. Striving for a false past to help create the future, the relics of the past are to be studied for why they are flawed, not to recreate those flaws."
Kemmler began to grow angry. "Bah, this miserable wretch and these Aryan people, they were no better than Nagash and his ilk. Relics of a dead age, that for all of their power real or imagined, they still feared losing it, as all things must change. If I am sifting through these memories correctly these Aryans and Nazis are dead and discredited aren't they?"
"Sadly no,"
"How sad, I could care less whether or not you think I am a monster, but I will tell you this. Nagash or his lackey Arkhan the Black cannot be trusted, to throw your lot in with them is to commit to an unchanging future, where the only constant is your enslavement to that waste of power who only wants the only will in existence on just one measly planet." [1]
Pence couldn't help but think. Damn it, what would this Mannfred do? So the thing I only care about is power and being the one true emperor of the Empire, working with Chaos looks to be out of the question, but Nagash is no different. I could use Nagash and his minions for power but betray them and the Chaos Gods that Kemmler has backed. After all, If *I* am to become Emperor, I'll need to defend my future subjects.
A Devious smile had crossed Pence's face. It seems neither Heinrich has full access to the other's consciousness or else Kemmler would be doing more than complaining about Himmler being soft. I can play them against one another.'
"Lichemaster, I have a proposition for you."
"Yes Count?" Pence suspected that was both mockery and suspicion but brushed it aside.
"While I do not wish to see Nagash's return either, perhaps there is something that can be gained from the power of his artifacts." Kemmler only smiled.
"You don't strike me as the power-hungry type," Kemmler was skeptical wasn't this supposed to be an ordinary man, perhaps he was going insane.
"I desire to rule more than this backwater land."
"Ha, baring the unwanted house guest in my mind, I think I might like the people of your world, no foolish superstitions to hold them back. There are no old glories to chase for the sake of power," Kemmler seemed to take an almost too gleeful tone. "There must be ways to find other worlds, and when I become immortal I shall visit them,"
"I'm sorry to tell you, there's plenty of old glories to go chase after in my world."
"Perhaps, but it does not seem as stagnant as in this world, even among the living. Either way, I will take my leave. I have a dog to go find." Kemmler was still cheerful about everything.
"Do I even wish to know what the hell is wrong with the both of you?" Pence secretly hoped they would just leave.
"Oh, it's simple. I enjoy tormenting this man, who believed himself to not be a monster in so many ways. It's honestly hilarious, seeing people trying to prove their race's superiority, through slaughter so they can proclaim their glories from the ash heaps and charnel pits, what a waste of their vaunted technology. Not to mention, all of those mass graves and no one to defile and raise them." Kemmler continued to smile chuckling while doing so. "Besides, he killed me."
Finally, something useful, perhaps I can sow more discord between the two. Pence simply shrugged "Strange Himmler said he killed himself, well again."
"That miserable worm dare claim my body as his own?!" Kemmler was furious. "It seems we cannot die, at not least just yet. My backers for lack of a better word have made sure of it, apparently whatever foolish creature that wants this simpering wretch around, has kept him here as well," Kemmler said, leaving before his mood considerably worsened.
'If I am going to kill both of them, I have to do it so they don't notice me, perhaps their masters won't forgive them for dying by accident or from an unfortunate meal.'
Pence had stopped, actually realizing what he was thinking.
'What in God's name am I thinking? I'm stuck in the body of a vampire and being forced to deceive and murder both a Nazi who has been dead for longer than I have been alive, who exists in the body of a possibly not as evil Necromancer. Surely no one else is in a situation this crazy?'
Pence had gone back to planning his schemes, even if this incident took some time to get over but first, something would have to be done about Sylvania itself, changes would have to be made.
July 31st, 2016
Indiana Governor's Residence, Indianapolis
Mannfred was sitting in front of a television watching a movie, about a man who looked like he came from the Southlands killing Vampires. Sitting next to him was one of this man's pets a beagle named Maverick. Mannfred had finished the movie, wondering if he would look good in a black coat and sunglasses.
'This has been the 6th or so 'movie', all it has given me are more standard stereotypes of vampires. I've seen Dracula from 1931, 1958, and Bram Stoker's Dracula, 30 Days of Night, Nosferatu, and now Blade. However, their appearance was unnerving. True they did not have much in the way of magical ability, but the fact one of the most famous vampires was named Vlad, who wore elegant clothing close to Sylvanian dress, from a land called Transylvania was unnerving. The others remind me of Lahimians and Strigoi, one supposes a film about a Necrach would be an exercise in boredom.'
'It is bad enough having to deal with this man's wife, who would call their own wife mother anyway? While, Having these pets reminds me of living oh so long ago, back when the world was much smaller and things much simpler. they could never replace Charon, his hawk, or Renfield his old hunting dog, who was not some feeble idiot.
It almost felt like another life, and the more Manfred thought about it, it felt almost insane.
Speaking of those who apparently love their mothers, it seems our competition will be Skarsnik, Malekith the Witch King of Naggarond, Settra, and Karl Franz, two relics of a long-dead age, the false emperor, and a greenskin. At least I can claim running in the superior party over Franz.
Regardless I'm here to do some more research, perhaps this internet can provide me with more answers. I've seen enough about vampirism in folklore, I wonder what amusing passes for "fictional" Vampires.'
Mannfred had passed many names that seemed familiar, before stopping at the letter I. It cannot be, it all cannot be a lie, can it? He saw Isabella von Carstein
Worry began to cross his face. He looked at K, then V, and finally M. He read this article on himself. It apparently did not have his life as Mannfred von Templehof, if that was even real. [2]
'So this is how it ends, I doom the world, to not become Nagash's slave and end up his slave anyway in some foolish new world. All so the mortal fools of this world can sell toys.' That last part had stuck with Mannfred.
'Worlds of unspeakable horrors created so these could sell plastic toys, books, games. Endless horrors and unspeakable tragedies, all made to make a profit. Perhaps one day I could find every version of Dracula even that one with that red coat and yellow glasses, trade secrets of Necromancy with the Giovanni or Cappadocians. After all, if I am real yet somehow fictional, it must stand to reason these other vampires and other creatures from fiction must exist as well. What could be more terrible?"
Mannfred's body began to tremble.
The Chaos Gods or the fact that for all their power, they too like the rest of my world and every wretched and cruel thing brought into it, was to entertain and sell goods before they killed it off? Civilizations, Gods, and an entire world burned to ash. My hands moved to accelerate the end of the world, so that the real gods may have new playthings till they discard them too.'
Mannfred had let out a laugh, the only option was to cry.
'God is real, and he is a Marienburg dilettante, looking for the next new trend in the arts. Vampires are called unholy, yet Neferata and her foolish brood of glorified wenches that look to recreate their glory instead of creating it anew, are perhaps closer to God than they realize.
Mannfred had stood in thought before a devious smile had crossed his lips.
Nagash's power is real, all too real, yet fake if this world was to be believed. However, I can avoid this fate, as much as I hate to admit it I cannot do it alone. The Dwarf, Franz, the Witchking, that Greenskin Warlord, they could all prove useful. First things first, Thorgrim would need to know about this, the Dwarf could appreciate my honesty, he need not know it is self-serving. I only hope this wretched man in control of my body knows what he is doing. These 'End Times' requires of me that I would be a fool.
[1] The closest thing Heinrich Kemmler has to an endgame is a desire for immortality, that doesn't require dying.
[2] I'm going with this as a kind of headcanon for Mannfred before becoming a Vampire, same with his hunting pets.
IC 2521
Castle Drakenhof
It had taken several nights for Mike Pence to get used to his body. Feeding was only needed to vainly keep his looks, so he did not have to cross that line, at least not yet, but November would be months away and what would he do until then? Trying to make the most of this new land was difficult because the people were backward and superstitious.
However that could wait, word of a rather powerful necromancer was coming soon to pay a visit and asked to see him in particular, it was a necromancer by the name of Heinrich Kemmler.
"My Master, we have a guest." one of the local servants.
"Very well bring them in," Pence commanded.
The servant opened the door to let the guest in the door and Pence looked at the man. He could see Heinrich's facial features start to slowly change. Gone was the small beard of an older man into that of a younger man who was bald, but with an unkempt stubble. The man seemed to have sunken, bloodshot eyes, and his skin looked pale with his veins visible, while Heinrich looked at him in surprise.
"You are not Mannfred, I see you for who you really are." Heinrich had said in a deep voice that seemed strangely more German than other living people Mike had seen thus far. Heinrich's eyes widened and he doubled over. "NO! You damned fool, of all the times to take over, why now?" Again Mike was more confused than anything and wondered what that meant he did not recall this man having a split personality.
"You don't appear to be Heinrich either, I can see you for who you really are as well." This voice was somehow much different.
A weary smile crossed this man's exhausted and sleep-deprived face. "Heh, Can you? I'm a long-dead man who wishes there was such a thing as Hell, so many years rallying against Christianity and the thought of its damnation beats this wretched excuse of existence."
Hell, Christianity? Maybe we come from the same world, that must be why I can see him. "How do you know what those are?"
"I come from a land called Germany, I believe you have heard of it, I am Heinrich Himmler, who are you?"
No, no, you can't be. You are long dead! The war was decades ago, you killed yourself!" Pence could not believe what he was hearing. Even for this current situation.
"Believe me I wish it was permanent, yet here we are in the bodies of a Necromancer and a Vampire or do you deny that too?" Pence shook his head in response. "So you at least know who I am, but I ask again who are you?"
"I am Michael Richard Pence of the United States of America,"
Heinrich's demeanor began to change, and his eyes grew wider. "You're an American, oh the things I've seen." Heinrich began to calm down slightly before returning back to an almost tired state.
"Between the horrors that Kemmler commits, the images that these Chaos Gods put inside my head, and what I suffered, such as being attacked by zombies from the camps, that would be bad enough. However, these Gods have told that bastard Kemmler of my suffering. He killed 3 kids and named their reanimated corpses after my own children, then he danced and played games with them. He did that out of revenge,"
Pence could not believe he felt some degree of sympathy for the man, then again he supposed this was the closest he would get to Hell.
"Why are you telling me this?" Pence was curious if he was the Heinrich Himmler, why reveal himself like this? "If you can take control couldn't you just have killed yourself?" Pence could not believe what he was saying. Surely a few nights in this cursed existence couldn't have brought him this far to think such a sin was preferable.
"Do you honestly think I did not try? I slit my own throat the first chance I got. My own patron and the Chaos Gods did not like that. I've taken to drinking to get back at that bastard. Once you get past the constant trauma, it's actually not bad, heh I drank some of that Dwarven beer for saving some traders that came from this place called Karak Norn. It's strong enough to dull the pain, but not as nostalgic as that Bretonnian wine.
Himmler flashed a small smile that seemed out of place "Truth be told I don't care if you're American, hell I'm glad you are here." seeing the man's smile had started to make Pence uneasy. "Tell me something, Mr. Pence, was it? Does this world seem too familiar to you, those names that sound German or French, or even Italian and Spanish?
"Yes, it seems almost as crazy as magic being real." Pence continued to listen but was getting annoyed. Surely this man did not come to rant about his life story, well he wasn't alive anymore, so it would be his death story?"
"You don't know what it is like to wonder if your whole life is some kind of lie or even a fantasy, written as if some author was an uncaring god, and all your life is nothing more than a fabrication for something's amusement, especially since my sense of time has been thrown off. At least if you know if I am here then everything was real after all, at least I know I'm not mad." Himmler had started to calm down.
"I do not wish to be rude, but is there a point to you being here?"
"Very well. I have been brought here by Nagash himself, but Kemmler does not know that. Nagash spoke to me to obtain your assistance in resurrecting him, he knows a powerful Vampire would be replaced at least in spirit or mind if you will, at least for a short period of time.
Anger had crossed Pence's face ."The creator of this abominable magic knew this would happen to me?"
"No." Pence had started to calm down "Only that Mannfred would be out of his body. Your only other alternative would be to help Kemmler. He and the Dark Gods of Chaos are not to be trusted. But whatever you do, do not die, if you die here, you lose any chance of being able to return to your body. Himmler warned Pence in Kemmler's gravelly voice.
Pence at least knew that Nagash was the first Necromancer, but Mannfred believed that perhaps most of his power was just legends and myth. Yet here a long-dead man from his own world is here. Now he has to hope the immortal monster that's in his body does not die, or else he is stuck here.
"I have a request Mr. Pence, can you please tell me, what has happened since my death, is there even a Germany, did the Soviets have the last laugh?"
Before Pence could answer Himmler began to convulse and his features seemed to change back to Kemmler's.
"Argh, has that miserable fool done anything of importance, or does he just complain about what kind of a monster I am, and how sad his situation is? Kemmler's face twisted into a smile, and he began to laugh as if he had heard the funniest joke.
"That fool believes himself a member of a superior race and believed in the equally foolish superstitions of his gods. Striving for a false past to help create the future, the relics of the past are to be studied for why they are flawed, not to recreate those flaws."
Kemmler began to grow angry. "Bah, this miserable wretch and these Aryan people, they were no better than Nagash and his ilk. Relics of a dead age, that for all of their power real or imagined, they still feared losing it, as all things must change. If I am sifting through these memories correctly these Aryans and Nazis are dead and discredited aren't they?"
"Sadly no,"
"How sad, I could care less whether or not you think I am a monster, but I will tell you this. Nagash or his lackey Arkhan the Black cannot be trusted, to throw your lot in with them is to commit to an unchanging future, where the only constant is your enslavement to that waste of power who only wants the only will in existence on just one measly planet." [1]
Pence couldn't help but think. Damn it, what would this Mannfred do? So the thing I only care about is power and being the one true emperor of the Empire, working with Chaos looks to be out of the question, but Nagash is no different. I could use Nagash and his minions for power but betray them and the Chaos Gods that Kemmler has backed. After all, If *I* am to become Emperor, I'll need to defend my future subjects.
A Devious smile had crossed Pence's face. It seems neither Heinrich has full access to the other's consciousness or else Kemmler would be doing more than complaining about Himmler being soft. I can play them against one another.'
"Lichemaster, I have a proposition for you."
"Yes Count?" Pence suspected that was both mockery and suspicion but brushed it aside.
"While I do not wish to see Nagash's return either, perhaps there is something that can be gained from the power of his artifacts." Kemmler only smiled.
"You don't strike me as the power-hungry type," Kemmler was skeptical wasn't this supposed to be an ordinary man, perhaps he was going insane.
"I desire to rule more than this backwater land."
"Ha, baring the unwanted house guest in my mind, I think I might like the people of your world, no foolish superstitions to hold them back. There are no old glories to chase for the sake of power," Kemmler seemed to take an almost too gleeful tone. "There must be ways to find other worlds, and when I become immortal I shall visit them,"
"I'm sorry to tell you, there's plenty of old glories to go chase after in my world."
"Perhaps, but it does not seem as stagnant as in this world, even among the living. Either way, I will take my leave. I have a dog to go find." Kemmler was still cheerful about everything.
"Do I even wish to know what the hell is wrong with the both of you?" Pence secretly hoped they would just leave.
"Oh, it's simple. I enjoy tormenting this man, who believed himself to not be a monster in so many ways. It's honestly hilarious, seeing people trying to prove their race's superiority, through slaughter so they can proclaim their glories from the ash heaps and charnel pits, what a waste of their vaunted technology. Not to mention, all of those mass graves and no one to defile and raise them." Kemmler continued to smile chuckling while doing so. "Besides, he killed me."
Finally, something useful, perhaps I can sow more discord between the two. Pence simply shrugged "Strange Himmler said he killed himself, well again."
"That miserable worm dare claim my body as his own?!" Kemmler was furious. "It seems we cannot die, at not least just yet. My backers for lack of a better word have made sure of it, apparently whatever foolish creature that wants this simpering wretch around, has kept him here as well," Kemmler said, leaving before his mood considerably worsened.
'If I am going to kill both of them, I have to do it so they don't notice me, perhaps their masters won't forgive them for dying by accident or from an unfortunate meal.'
Pence had stopped, actually realizing what he was thinking.
'What in God's name am I thinking? I'm stuck in the body of a vampire and being forced to deceive and murder both a Nazi who has been dead for longer than I have been alive, who exists in the body of a possibly not as evil Necromancer. Surely no one else is in a situation this crazy?'
Pence had gone back to planning his schemes, even if this incident took some time to get over but first, something would have to be done about Sylvania itself, changes would have to be made.
July 31st, 2016
Indiana Governor's Residence, Indianapolis
Mannfred was sitting in front of a television watching a movie, about a man who looked like he came from the Southlands killing Vampires. Sitting next to him was one of this man's pets a beagle named Maverick. Mannfred had finished the movie, wondering if he would look good in a black coat and sunglasses.
'This has been the 6th or so 'movie', all it has given me are more standard stereotypes of vampires. I've seen Dracula from 1931, 1958, and Bram Stoker's Dracula, 30 Days of Night, Nosferatu, and now Blade. However, their appearance was unnerving. True they did not have much in the way of magical ability, but the fact one of the most famous vampires was named Vlad, who wore elegant clothing close to Sylvanian dress, from a land called Transylvania was unnerving. The others remind me of Lahimians and Strigoi, one supposes a film about a Necrach would be an exercise in boredom.'
'It is bad enough having to deal with this man's wife, who would call their own wife mother anyway? While, Having these pets reminds me of living oh so long ago, back when the world was much smaller and things much simpler. they could never replace Charon, his hawk, or Renfield his old hunting dog, who was not some feeble idiot.
It almost felt like another life, and the more Manfred thought about it, it felt almost insane.
Speaking of those who apparently love their mothers, it seems our competition will be Skarsnik, Malekith the Witch King of Naggarond, Settra, and Karl Franz, two relics of a long-dead age, the false emperor, and a greenskin. At least I can claim running in the superior party over Franz.
Regardless I'm here to do some more research, perhaps this internet can provide me with more answers. I've seen enough about vampirism in folklore, I wonder what amusing passes for "fictional" Vampires.'
Mannfred had passed many names that seemed familiar, before stopping at the letter I. It cannot be, it all cannot be a lie, can it? He saw Isabella von Carstein
Worry began to cross his face. He looked at K, then V, and finally M. He read this article on himself. It apparently did not have his life as Mannfred von Templehof, if that was even real. [2]
'So this is how it ends, I doom the world, to not become Nagash's slave and end up his slave anyway in some foolish new world. All so the mortal fools of this world can sell toys.' That last part had stuck with Mannfred.
'Worlds of unspeakable horrors created so these could sell plastic toys, books, games. Endless horrors and unspeakable tragedies, all made to make a profit. Perhaps one day I could find every version of Dracula even that one with that red coat and yellow glasses, trade secrets of Necromancy with the Giovanni or Cappadocians. After all, if I am real yet somehow fictional, it must stand to reason these other vampires and other creatures from fiction must exist as well. What could be more terrible?"
Mannfred's body began to tremble.
The Chaos Gods or the fact that for all their power, they too like the rest of my world and every wretched and cruel thing brought into it, was to entertain and sell goods before they killed it off? Civilizations, Gods, and an entire world burned to ash. My hands moved to accelerate the end of the world, so that the real gods may have new playthings till they discard them too.'
Mannfred had let out a laugh, the only option was to cry.
'God is real, and he is a Marienburg dilettante, looking for the next new trend in the arts. Vampires are called unholy, yet Neferata and her foolish brood of glorified wenches that look to recreate their glory instead of creating it anew, are perhaps closer to God than they realize.
Mannfred had stood in thought before a devious smile had crossed his lips.
Nagash's power is real, all too real, yet fake if this world was to be believed. However, I can avoid this fate, as much as I hate to admit it I cannot do it alone. The Dwarf, Franz, the Witchking, that Greenskin Warlord, they could all prove useful. First things first, Thorgrim would need to know about this, the Dwarf could appreciate my honesty, he need not know it is self-serving. I only hope this wretched man in control of my body knows what he is doing. These 'End Times' requires of me that I would be a fool.
[1] The closest thing Heinrich Kemmler has to an endgame is a desire for immortality, that doesn't require dying.
[2] I'm going with this as a kind of headcanon for Mannfred before becoming a Vampire, same with his hunting pets.
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Part 8: Black Plans, Kaiser Weld, and the Geld Prince
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
IC 2521
10 Miles Outside Numas, Nehekara
Nehekara. A land where warfare was as incessant as its undead inhabitants. Another conflict had brewed between Khemri and the city of Numas. Settra the Imperishable had begun another series of wars to bring Nehekara under his rule or so they thought.
'This is strange, to find myself leading an undead army straight of out Ancient Egypt. Being Undead has taken some getting used to, but these movements seem almost unreal, it all feels like second nature. thought Gary Johnson as he surveyed the army in front of him.
All of this, for a chance to take out this Arkhan the Black, if this Settra is as great as he claims surely taking down one nasty weed should not be a problem. The dead cannot be free if Arkhan just gets a chance to enslave them again, using a tyrant to create freedom or at least taking a step in the right direction seems poetic enough.
A skeletal horseman approached the Legions of the Imperishable.
"Lord of Lords, the many Kings of Numas, wish an audience with you."
"Then why do they not send one of their own, instead of a lowly servant?" Johnson was confident Settra spoke like this, maybe he should have shown more outrage.
Johnson had arrived in Numas, with a small cohort of guards. Even if they do "kill" me, I can always come back, it happened when *I* fought against those guys who looked like Vikings. Johnson reassured himself, as he made his way to the court of Numas. Johnson had seen what looked like decomposed kings and princes in front of food they could not eat, however, when they noticed him they raised their goblets to toast him, before drinking no matter how futile it would be. The figure seated at the head of the table was Phar of Numas [1]
"My King welcome." Phar said with a bow, what brings you to our city?"
"I wish to strike up an alliance, while I could crush you myself there is no point in fighting when we have greater threats, imagine it with the power of all Nehekara, we can drive that cancerous slave of Nagash, Arkhan the Black, out of this world forever." Johnson had said before taking a seat
"And what about afterward?" Phar asked knowing Settra's immense pride could see a war if Numas had the audacity to resist him.
"Only the Gods may know." Johnson's answer was unusually cryptic, offering his decayed hand.
"It is an alliance for the good of Nehekara." Phar said shaking Settra's hand.
Settra had left Numas, while Phar's son Prince Dramkhir moved towards his side. [2]
"Father are we to simply bow our heads, so Settra can rule us as he has for the last several millennia?" the prince whispered.
"Only the gods may know, but if we are fortunate my son, Settra may meet his end as well."
"Can we truly trust that Liche Priest?"
Another desiccated figure soon stepped from beside them.
"Me?"
"Yes, you were the one, who advised us to accept the offer."
"Yes. Settra seeks to stop Arkhan the Black. It is the will of the Gods."
"Was it their will to let Settra rule us, Nerutep?" Dhramkir shouted.
"Enough! We shall burn this priest to ash if his advice turns out to ruin us, but for now, let him scurry back to whoever sent him." Nerutep had only bowed and left the city to walk out into the sandy desert.
Out in the wastes, a sandstorm suddenly appeared and surrounded the priest, as soon it appeared it dissipated and there appeared a woman in the dress of a Nehekaran Queen.
"Oh Your Majesty, I'm relieved you have returned." The Queen's familiar brown eyes were filled with joy.
"Do you ever tire of appearing like that?"
"As one of the things you desire most? No. Would you rather I turn into your brother instead?"
If Nerutep could glare he would, but the woman only smiled, before her form was consumed by purple fires. Instead, there was a creature with light violet skin, purple eyes, and covered in scars, with two scars on the edge of its mouth that gave them the appearance of a smile.
"Oh, that hatred gives me immense pleasure it was what attracted my master and me to you." The demon's face had a joyful expression and in their bright purple eyes.
"Ah yes, The Reveler of Rapturous Retribution, you promised me vengeance before my body expired in that tomb. I spent what felt like centuries in the realm of your master, seeing every deprivation my 'dear' brother inflicted on my family, my people, and even the very land itself. Only to return to this corpse and leave our father's pyramid. Now I must serve that juesh smoker's plans." [3]
"Ah, the story of a fallen king driven to unholy vengeance."
"I don't care, who this pleases, Kh'orus, Sekh'netch, Nor'gal, or Son'nesh. I am Thutep, son of Khetep, and King of Nehekara. I will have my vengeance [4]
'The Demonette's face became serious.
"Only if my Lord desires it, what you wish has great longing behind it, but it nothing to their Desires."
"We shall see."
A plume of purple smoke surrounded the demon and they disappeared leaving Thutep alone.
IC 2521
Altdorf, Reikland Province, The Empire
"So you mean to tell me that you are someone called William Weld and have switched bodies with Karl Franz, and he's now running for President in a land called America on a completely different world?" Teclis could look at this man he somehow managed to see before him.
Emperor Karl Franz was in a private audience with High Loremaster Teclis. Or at least it should have been that simple [5]
"Basically."
"If only you did not sound completely insane. At least I cannot sense any Chaos corruption from you. For all the wisdom of Hoeth, please tell me you have a grasp of your responsibilities?" Teclis asked, hoping for an answer that at least meant he would not have to play advisor to him.
"Yes I am to defend this land from all threats be it Vampires, Beastmen, Greenskins, and the forces of Chaos, I hope at least for just a few months,"
"What makes you say a few months, Mr. Weld?" Tecils gave no hint of emotion except the raising of an eyebrow.
"Please call me Bill. Well, this magic bat said Karl would be in my body until the presidential election. I have only been here for about two months, that election will not happen for another 100 days." Bill's words gave Teclis some measure of visible relief.
"If your theory is correct can you please try not to make a mess of things, Bill? The last thing this world needs is for one of its greatest bulwarks, to fall to confusion and ruin. I am too busy to be able to stay any longer if it is not dealing with other obligations, it is dealing with those Princes of Caledor, back at the court of Lothern,"
'Who are they?"
"Oh, right sorry about that. Imagine the most snobbish arrogant people you know, and give them a few hundred years,"
"I can think of several people I could not stand for just a few hours, God forbid a few centuries."
"I would mix more wine with my potions if they weren't so rare, but I digress. I must leave soon. How many other candidates are in these elections of yours?"
"There is my running mate and at least six other people, but I did not get here until after our convention, and I have no idea where they might be. So we are all not going to be here at the same time."
"Lovely, I'm going to need volunteers, to stay and watch the courts not just here, but of Kislev, Brettonia, and the states in Estalia and Tilea, after I need to leave, and it might not even be worthwhile," A look of horror had crossed Tecils's face "Gods forbid this, but what if the Phoenix King has been replaced as well?"
"Maybe the people who are replaced are not the people who you think it could be."
"Then Loec, has a sick sense of humor."
Teclis had left the room. 'Well if there are a few positive things about this experience, I'll at least have some new material for a book. Another political book but with a "fictional" twist it looks like. I guess it's time to see how Nordland is doing, there is not much to do but keep everything running as it is.'
IC 2521
Karaz-a-Karak
Donald Trump had sat over a series of plans, all detailing new blueprints presented by some members of the Engineer's Guild.
'If we don't have the manpower, well dwarfpower, why not make new inventions? Tanks would be nice, large beautiful tanks with plenty of firepower. I guess I would have to see if the Engineer's Guild can if it's not the guilds it's these longbeards, going on and kvetching about everything. I guess I could make a royal proclamation for engineering new weapons.'
Trump was interrupted by his guards announcing a petition. Trump recognized him Kargil Swifttongs, a young Dwarf of 68 years, he liked his idea of creating what appeared to be a bazooka.
"My King, it is an honor, I humbly ask that you at least send my design to the Engineer's Guild, they believe I am too young and may dismiss me out of hand." The dwarf's request made Trump smirk on the inside, as this "young dwarf" was only 2 years younger than him give or take. [6]
It's a good way to bring this up, it is my right as king to do so, it might be able to grease the wheels. Speaking of which would they love that armored car idea or would they have to test that for God, er Ancestor Gods knows how long.
"Very well, I will see that this impressive invention's schematics are sent to the guild with the utmost importance."
Trump would spend several more hours preparing a speech for an upcoming banquet for a wedding. "This speech doesn't seem too bad, but if I need to fight I better put up or shut up." Trump said aloud to himself.
"I do not understand why you asked for all of these inventions. I'd almost call this Umgi nonsense if it was not for the King wanting more 'innovation'." Grombrindal said that last word with disgust.
"Back in my world we got things that even put these Thunderbarges to shame, my father lived in a time when traveling by air was uncommon on these small tiny wooden craft, now I live in a time where these massive metal jets can take people over the world in a day or two."
"Now it sounds like Thagorakki nonsense, but at least you are starting to drink."
"I still hate it." Grombrindal'
"You're not an Umgi anymore."
"But I won't be like this forever, and that's all that matters." Donald whispered.
2521 IC
The Great Ocean
A fleet of longships was in the middle of making their way westward. The longships prows all bore a serpent as befitting their patron deity. The host of Sigvald the Magnificant was given a most unusual undertaking, Slaanesh had sent their favored son to raid and plunder Naggaroth.
"Raiding Svartalfheim. This will be a most interesting experience. These Svartalfs believe themselves to be cruel and debauched, but we shall prove them to be as weak and soft as any other southern creature. When we leave these shores, what few wretches that are left, will speak of me with fear and envy, at the horrors that shall be inflicted on them." [7]
Sigvald's host had let out cheers for the rewards were sure to be great, if not in loot than in debauchery. The fires of war would come to the frozen shores of Naggaroth.
[1] Phar of Numas, not to be confused with Phar of Mahrak Settra's eternal rival
[2] Dramkhir is one Phar of Numas's sons, his fifth son to be exact.
[3] Thutep's 'survival' in a one-off story is an invention of Total War Warhammer II. I like the idea somewhat that I have a headcanon for it. Basically, Desiring revenge against his brother Nagash, Thutep is given the secrets and means to preserve himself before he dies.
Come Nagash raising the dead and dooming Nehekara to undeath. Thutep, now the Lich Priest Nerutep is out about serving at the directives of Slannesh for long-promised vengeance.
Juesh is a Nehekaran narcotic, Arkhan the Black smoked it frequently, which was the initial reason why he was called 'the Black.'
[4] The Nehekaran Pronunciation of the four Chaos Gods Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, Slannesh respectively.
[5] Teclis, twin brother of Tyrion, Archmage of Ulthuan, and what have you, established the Empire's Colleges of Magic. So I figure it would make sense to keep him here.
[6] Dwarfs tend to live for at least a few centuries, at ages 30-69 Dwarfs are generally seen as Young Clan members, becoming Elder Clan members are 70.
[7] In one Wulfrik the Wander novel. Ulthuan was called Alfheim, I feel calling Naggarond
Svartalfheim would make sense here, and by extension Dark Elves, are Svartalfs.
10 Miles Outside Numas, Nehekara
Nehekara. A land where warfare was as incessant as its undead inhabitants. Another conflict had brewed between Khemri and the city of Numas. Settra the Imperishable had begun another series of wars to bring Nehekara under his rule or so they thought.
'This is strange, to find myself leading an undead army straight of out Ancient Egypt. Being Undead has taken some getting used to, but these movements seem almost unreal, it all feels like second nature. thought Gary Johnson as he surveyed the army in front of him.
All of this, for a chance to take out this Arkhan the Black, if this Settra is as great as he claims surely taking down one nasty weed should not be a problem. The dead cannot be free if Arkhan just gets a chance to enslave them again, using a tyrant to create freedom or at least taking a step in the right direction seems poetic enough.
A skeletal horseman approached the Legions of the Imperishable.
"Lord of Lords, the many Kings of Numas, wish an audience with you."
"Then why do they not send one of their own, instead of a lowly servant?" Johnson was confident Settra spoke like this, maybe he should have shown more outrage.
Johnson had arrived in Numas, with a small cohort of guards. Even if they do "kill" me, I can always come back, it happened when *I* fought against those guys who looked like Vikings. Johnson reassured himself, as he made his way to the court of Numas. Johnson had seen what looked like decomposed kings and princes in front of food they could not eat, however, when they noticed him they raised their goblets to toast him, before drinking no matter how futile it would be. The figure seated at the head of the table was Phar of Numas [1]
"My King welcome." Phar said with a bow, what brings you to our city?"
"I wish to strike up an alliance, while I could crush you myself there is no point in fighting when we have greater threats, imagine it with the power of all Nehekara, we can drive that cancerous slave of Nagash, Arkhan the Black, out of this world forever." Johnson had said before taking a seat
"And what about afterward?" Phar asked knowing Settra's immense pride could see a war if Numas had the audacity to resist him.
"Only the Gods may know." Johnson's answer was unusually cryptic, offering his decayed hand.
"It is an alliance for the good of Nehekara." Phar said shaking Settra's hand.
Settra had left Numas, while Phar's son Prince Dramkhir moved towards his side. [2]
"Father are we to simply bow our heads, so Settra can rule us as he has for the last several millennia?" the prince whispered.
"Only the gods may know, but if we are fortunate my son, Settra may meet his end as well."
"Can we truly trust that Liche Priest?"
Another desiccated figure soon stepped from beside them.
"Me?"
"Yes, you were the one, who advised us to accept the offer."
"Yes. Settra seeks to stop Arkhan the Black. It is the will of the Gods."
"Was it their will to let Settra rule us, Nerutep?" Dhramkir shouted.
"Enough! We shall burn this priest to ash if his advice turns out to ruin us, but for now, let him scurry back to whoever sent him." Nerutep had only bowed and left the city to walk out into the sandy desert.
Out in the wastes, a sandstorm suddenly appeared and surrounded the priest, as soon it appeared it dissipated and there appeared a woman in the dress of a Nehekaran Queen.
"Oh Your Majesty, I'm relieved you have returned." The Queen's familiar brown eyes were filled with joy.
"Do you ever tire of appearing like that?"
"As one of the things you desire most? No. Would you rather I turn into your brother instead?"
If Nerutep could glare he would, but the woman only smiled, before her form was consumed by purple fires. Instead, there was a creature with light violet skin, purple eyes, and covered in scars, with two scars on the edge of its mouth that gave them the appearance of a smile.
"Oh, that hatred gives me immense pleasure it was what attracted my master and me to you." The demon's face had a joyful expression and in their bright purple eyes.
"Ah yes, The Reveler of Rapturous Retribution, you promised me vengeance before my body expired in that tomb. I spent what felt like centuries in the realm of your master, seeing every deprivation my 'dear' brother inflicted on my family, my people, and even the very land itself. Only to return to this corpse and leave our father's pyramid. Now I must serve that juesh smoker's plans." [3]
"Ah, the story of a fallen king driven to unholy vengeance."
"I don't care, who this pleases, Kh'orus, Sekh'netch, Nor'gal, or Son'nesh. I am Thutep, son of Khetep, and King of Nehekara. I will have my vengeance [4]
'The Demonette's face became serious.
"Only if my Lord desires it, what you wish has great longing behind it, but it nothing to their Desires."
"We shall see."
A plume of purple smoke surrounded the demon and they disappeared leaving Thutep alone.
IC 2521
Altdorf, Reikland Province, The Empire
"So you mean to tell me that you are someone called William Weld and have switched bodies with Karl Franz, and he's now running for President in a land called America on a completely different world?" Teclis could look at this man he somehow managed to see before him.
Emperor Karl Franz was in a private audience with High Loremaster Teclis. Or at least it should have been that simple [5]
"Basically."
"If only you did not sound completely insane. At least I cannot sense any Chaos corruption from you. For all the wisdom of Hoeth, please tell me you have a grasp of your responsibilities?" Teclis asked, hoping for an answer that at least meant he would not have to play advisor to him.
"Yes I am to defend this land from all threats be it Vampires, Beastmen, Greenskins, and the forces of Chaos, I hope at least for just a few months,"
"What makes you say a few months, Mr. Weld?" Tecils gave no hint of emotion except the raising of an eyebrow.
"Please call me Bill. Well, this magic bat said Karl would be in my body until the presidential election. I have only been here for about two months, that election will not happen for another 100 days." Bill's words gave Teclis some measure of visible relief.
"If your theory is correct can you please try not to make a mess of things, Bill? The last thing this world needs is for one of its greatest bulwarks, to fall to confusion and ruin. I am too busy to be able to stay any longer if it is not dealing with other obligations, it is dealing with those Princes of Caledor, back at the court of Lothern,"
'Who are they?"
"Oh, right sorry about that. Imagine the most snobbish arrogant people you know, and give them a few hundred years,"
"I can think of several people I could not stand for just a few hours, God forbid a few centuries."
"I would mix more wine with my potions if they weren't so rare, but I digress. I must leave soon. How many other candidates are in these elections of yours?"
"There is my running mate and at least six other people, but I did not get here until after our convention, and I have no idea where they might be. So we are all not going to be here at the same time."
"Lovely, I'm going to need volunteers, to stay and watch the courts not just here, but of Kislev, Brettonia, and the states in Estalia and Tilea, after I need to leave, and it might not even be worthwhile," A look of horror had crossed Tecils's face "Gods forbid this, but what if the Phoenix King has been replaced as well?"
"Maybe the people who are replaced are not the people who you think it could be."
"Then Loec, has a sick sense of humor."
Teclis had left the room. 'Well if there are a few positive things about this experience, I'll at least have some new material for a book. Another political book but with a "fictional" twist it looks like. I guess it's time to see how Nordland is doing, there is not much to do but keep everything running as it is.'
IC 2521
Karaz-a-Karak
Donald Trump had sat over a series of plans, all detailing new blueprints presented by some members of the Engineer's Guild.
'If we don't have the manpower, well dwarfpower, why not make new inventions? Tanks would be nice, large beautiful tanks with plenty of firepower. I guess I would have to see if the Engineer's Guild can if it's not the guilds it's these longbeards, going on and kvetching about everything. I guess I could make a royal proclamation for engineering new weapons.'
Trump was interrupted by his guards announcing a petition. Trump recognized him Kargil Swifttongs, a young Dwarf of 68 years, he liked his idea of creating what appeared to be a bazooka.
"My King, it is an honor, I humbly ask that you at least send my design to the Engineer's Guild, they believe I am too young and may dismiss me out of hand." The dwarf's request made Trump smirk on the inside, as this "young dwarf" was only 2 years younger than him give or take. [6]
It's a good way to bring this up, it is my right as king to do so, it might be able to grease the wheels. Speaking of which would they love that armored car idea or would they have to test that for God, er Ancestor Gods knows how long.
"Very well, I will see that this impressive invention's schematics are sent to the guild with the utmost importance."
Trump would spend several more hours preparing a speech for an upcoming banquet for a wedding. "This speech doesn't seem too bad, but if I need to fight I better put up or shut up." Trump said aloud to himself.
"I do not understand why you asked for all of these inventions. I'd almost call this Umgi nonsense if it was not for the King wanting more 'innovation'." Grombrindal said that last word with disgust.
"Back in my world we got things that even put these Thunderbarges to shame, my father lived in a time when traveling by air was uncommon on these small tiny wooden craft, now I live in a time where these massive metal jets can take people over the world in a day or two."
"Now it sounds like Thagorakki nonsense, but at least you are starting to drink."
"I still hate it." Grombrindal'
"You're not an Umgi anymore."
"But I won't be like this forever, and that's all that matters." Donald whispered.
2521 IC
The Great Ocean
A fleet of longships was in the middle of making their way westward. The longships prows all bore a serpent as befitting their patron deity. The host of Sigvald the Magnificant was given a most unusual undertaking, Slaanesh had sent their favored son to raid and plunder Naggaroth.
"Raiding Svartalfheim. This will be a most interesting experience. These Svartalfs believe themselves to be cruel and debauched, but we shall prove them to be as weak and soft as any other southern creature. When we leave these shores, what few wretches that are left, will speak of me with fear and envy, at the horrors that shall be inflicted on them." [7]
Sigvald's host had let out cheers for the rewards were sure to be great, if not in loot than in debauchery. The fires of war would come to the frozen shores of Naggaroth.
[1] Phar of Numas, not to be confused with Phar of Mahrak Settra's eternal rival
[2] Dramkhir is one Phar of Numas's sons, his fifth son to be exact.
[3] Thutep's 'survival' in a one-off story is an invention of Total War Warhammer II. I like the idea somewhat that I have a headcanon for it. Basically, Desiring revenge against his brother Nagash, Thutep is given the secrets and means to preserve himself before he dies.
Come Nagash raising the dead and dooming Nehekara to undeath. Thutep, now the Lich Priest Nerutep is out about serving at the directives of Slannesh for long-promised vengeance.
Juesh is a Nehekaran narcotic, Arkhan the Black smoked it frequently, which was the initial reason why he was called 'the Black.'
[4] The Nehekaran Pronunciation of the four Chaos Gods Khorne, Tzeentch, Nurgle, Slannesh respectively.
[5] Teclis, twin brother of Tyrion, Archmage of Ulthuan, and what have you, established the Empire's Colleges of Magic. So I figure it would make sense to keep him here.
[6] Dwarfs tend to live for at least a few centuries, at ages 30-69 Dwarfs are generally seen as Young Clan members, becoming Elder Clan members are 70.
[7] In one Wulfrik the Wander novel. Ulthuan was called Alfheim, I feel calling Naggarond
Svartalfheim would make sense here, and by extension Dark Elves, are Svartalfs.
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16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Excellent as always, loving Trump as a dwarf king and Jhonson as an undead lord, but Sigvald deciding to actually try and move some lines on the map is a cherry on top metaphorically of course...don't give him any debautched ideas about fruit please.
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
Since this is based on an older work Sigvald is going to be a part of a minor plotline, but I also think that Slannesh gets pigeonholed too much as just a Chaos God of desire and it just being the sexual kind of desire. This is why I wanted to work in Thutep, even if that might be stepping on Khorne's toes. I kind of like Sigvald as brutal, but still a Norscan at heart, so I'm not going to write him as your dime-a-dozen Slanneshi follower in it for only sex.
Part 9: Campaign Adjustments
BBadolato
Experiencer of Bij
- Location
- The Netherworld
August 1st, 2016
Columbus, Ohio
"Kruk, Mannfred, I'll talk to you later. If this is some Zagunazi trick, if and when we get back, I'll turn you to ashes and keep them in a chamber pot, and send it to that wattock Skarsnik." Thorgim had screamed into the phone in private, before heading back inside the meeting room.
'Wazzock, does he really mean to tell me our world is not real, and the he has knowledge has dire implications, other than this election?'
"So where were we?" 'Trump' was in a meeting with Paul Ryan and Reince Priebus.
"We are concerned about your stances, and some of the things you've admitted to. Extramarital relationships, crude remarks, criticizing Russia what has prompted this all of a sudden? I mean how do you expect voters to embrace you?" These questions were asked by Paul Ryan, not that Thogrim really cared for the politics in this land. [1]
"Are we not conservatives, if Christianity is one of the cornerstones of our nation, shouldn't we find it in our hearts admit our sins, and seek forgiveness." It took everything Thorgrim had to not lose his cool. He found such a concept absurd, all trespasses must be repaid, yet here he was among Umgi. All his 'wife' could do was glare at him not for the infidelities but making it public, if anything he believed the umgi deserved it.
"What about your comments on immigration," This time the question had come from Priebus. "I don't know if I like this, for lack of a better word, flip-flopping?"
Thorgrim sighed trying not to lose his patience. "Again, I've recently found the importance of the traditions that made this country great and can make it great again, is it really so much to understand?"
"No, but you seem like a completely different person, are you okay?"
"Reince, Paul, I've never been better." The High King hoped he could keep this vile facade going.
"If you say so, hopefully, we can salvage this campaign. Any more of this and we are doing to be losing more donors." Paul was at least willing to buy Thorgrim's story even if he wasn't happy about it.
Both men left the room leaving Thorgrim alone.
"Of all the Unbaraki wazzocks I get it is this man, it's bad enough my newfound drinking is suspicious. Another day another damned rally, while Skarsnik is apparently going on the offensive sometimes even making jests." The High king had let his true feeling out not that he was alone. Exasperated, he thought back to the prior conversation he had with Mannfred.
"Dwarf I have grave news." It was rare to hear the Zangunaz speak in at tone that wasn't indifferent, annoyance, arrogance, or mockery.
"That had better not be a pun, I have heard enough out attempts of humor out of that green bastard."
"In this world we do not exist at as real people, we are apart of something called Warhammer Fantasy Battle, the End Times are soon, and I am supposed to cause them. I think we can avert them if we get more information," The blood-drinker kept a serious tone.
'Damned Zangunaz, dammed Umgi if I find out how far this nonsense goes I might just go crazy. Then again, a Zangunaz and I are in different bodies running to be President of the United States so I may have already have done so, I need a drink, one that is not Umgi pisswater, to get through this day.'
August 1st, 2016
Omaha, Nebraska
Skarsnik had just finished another campaign rally.
'At least dat Forgrim git, iz doing me a favah with all dose dirty seekretz he'z leakin. Still, 'ow can a humie not be seen as a humie? First I'ze too Kold, den I'ze too emoshunal, dese humies in dis world might as well be loonies. At least sum of dem like what I doing on dis kampain, but itz all so borin. Talk about promises ere, talk about promises dere, or talk wiv da other humies on me kampain team. Ol Maly is busy in da south, and dis Bill, oh Mork dis Bill.'
As Skarsnik had understood humie relationships as two people agreeing to be co-bosses of this thing called a family, which was like any greenskin tribe, if the tribe rutted with each other, and had kids. That part felt would always feel vile, what puzzled Skarsnik was is if this Bill humie had other girlun bosses, why didn't Hillary just kill him? Why have all these mixed signals? Skarsnik hoped he ignored them, but these humies were too soft for his liking, why care about others, when it's every lad for themselves. But dis Bill git, why did what he do hurt.
'Stupid humie girlun, why not just kill da git? He back-stabbed ya, and ya support 'im?'
Skarsnik was interrupted by "his" fone going off. If it was one thing Skarsnik liked, aside from some of the humie food, it was these new inventions that seemed almost magical. Skasnik looked at the number it was Malekith, well 'Tim Kaine'.
"What do ya want?" The displaced Warlord of the Eight Peaks was getting antsy, touring like was somestupid humie circus preformer was.
"Advice, apparently the Dwarf's running mate, that vampire wants to meet with me in private. He did not bother to say why, but I doubt the parasite wants to harm me." Malekith's tone always seemed to be either slight anger or indifference to Skarsnik not that it mattered.
"I knows it 'ight be stupid to say dis considerin who we are, but look afta yerself. I don't kare for da bloodsukas myself, but he might be friendz wiv dat stunty." Skarsnik warned.
"I do not fear either of them, be it in these bodies or our original ones."
August 1st, 2016
Richmond, Virginia
Malekith had gotten off the phone with Skarsnik.
'At least the Greenskin is proving useful with this campaign.'
Malekith did not tell Skarsnik, about the real reason for the Vampire's meeting, to explain the "real" world. Malekith had already found out, the humans of this world created or at least imagined their world as a way to sell what amounted to toys.
Denied his throne when it is rightfully his, only to gain it and lose it, thanks to the foolish machinations of this vampire. Malekith would play along, but if that vampire intends to do anything that would cause these "future" events to happen, he would personally burn down that rotting Castle he calls home the second they came back. The Witch King stopped moving, his fists had balled up as he was consumed with rage, it was the sure sign of another emotional outburst.
'What was it all for? These people made our world, the Old Ones, and the Chaos Gods. Did anyone ever really have free will? Mot-Morathi talked about trying to fall in love with my father, could she have ever succeeded? Was father always doomed to take up the Sword of Khaine? was I always meant to go into the fire? Was I meant to destroy my friendship with Snorri? Was Allisara supposed to die?' [2]
It was another thing Malekith came to hate in his very brief time here. Without being subjected to near-constant pain, other more unwanted emotions were coming to the surface. Emotions that weren't explosive rage or smoldering anger feelings like regret and even hours-long bouts of ennui.
"No, this rumination is useless. I can't change the past, maybe some of those things were my fault, or it was this damned Games Workshop 'causing' it to happen. Whatever comes I will make my own fate."
"Honey." It was his wife. No, she was dead, this woman was not. They certainly didn't meet talking something as insipid as 'prisoners rights' the only thing prisoners should have rights to, is to die in the service of the strong. Malekith wanted to continue, but then he remembered when he met Allisara. He could still remember how her hair stood out even in place like Tor Alessi. Another place destroyed by his machinations.[2]
"Are you okay?" He turned around to face her, there were so many memories, at least more than he could ever remember of this 'Anne' then what he shared for Allisara. Her Blue eyes and brown hair, were nothing to compared to the brown eyes and auburn hair that was just some distant memory.
"Yes." It was a lie, even just these few days were getting to him. All these emotions he had the luxury to feel, so many bitter reminders of what he has endured millennia without having.
"Are you sure, this campaign has been picking up recently, you and Hillary aren't leaving anything to chance."
"We wont, not this time."
[1] So in going off the End Times, I'm working the plot Malekith was meant to be Phoenix King had he stayed in the Flame of Asuryan, or at least 'worthy' enough than meant to be because it's a contentious decision to say the least. However, while this does not mean I'm going to play this idea to the hilt as was done in the End Times.
[2] Allisara was Malekith's wife introduced in 8th edition, continuing the trend of Malekith having some oddly similar elements of Darth Vader/Anakin in his characterization. (Yes I know he's a fallen hero archetype in some interpretations of the lore.) Although I think Malekith getting burned, might just barely predate Revenge of the Sith.
Columbus, Ohio
"Kruk, Mannfred, I'll talk to you later. If this is some Zagunazi trick, if and when we get back, I'll turn you to ashes and keep them in a chamber pot, and send it to that wattock Skarsnik." Thorgim had screamed into the phone in private, before heading back inside the meeting room.
'Wazzock, does he really mean to tell me our world is not real, and the he has knowledge has dire implications, other than this election?'
"So where were we?" 'Trump' was in a meeting with Paul Ryan and Reince Priebus.
"We are concerned about your stances, and some of the things you've admitted to. Extramarital relationships, crude remarks, criticizing Russia what has prompted this all of a sudden? I mean how do you expect voters to embrace you?" These questions were asked by Paul Ryan, not that Thogrim really cared for the politics in this land. [1]
"Are we not conservatives, if Christianity is one of the cornerstones of our nation, shouldn't we find it in our hearts admit our sins, and seek forgiveness." It took everything Thorgrim had to not lose his cool. He found such a concept absurd, all trespasses must be repaid, yet here he was among Umgi. All his 'wife' could do was glare at him not for the infidelities but making it public, if anything he believed the umgi deserved it.
"What about your comments on immigration," This time the question had come from Priebus. "I don't know if I like this, for lack of a better word, flip-flopping?"
Thorgrim sighed trying not to lose his patience. "Again, I've recently found the importance of the traditions that made this country great and can make it great again, is it really so much to understand?"
"No, but you seem like a completely different person, are you okay?"
"Reince, Paul, I've never been better." The High King hoped he could keep this vile facade going.
"If you say so, hopefully, we can salvage this campaign. Any more of this and we are doing to be losing more donors." Paul was at least willing to buy Thorgrim's story even if he wasn't happy about it.
Both men left the room leaving Thorgrim alone.
"Of all the Unbaraki wazzocks I get it is this man, it's bad enough my newfound drinking is suspicious. Another day another damned rally, while Skarsnik is apparently going on the offensive sometimes even making jests." The High king had let his true feeling out not that he was alone. Exasperated, he thought back to the prior conversation he had with Mannfred.
"Dwarf I have grave news." It was rare to hear the Zangunaz speak in at tone that wasn't indifferent, annoyance, arrogance, or mockery.
"That had better not be a pun, I have heard enough out attempts of humor out of that green bastard."
"In this world we do not exist at as real people, we are apart of something called Warhammer Fantasy Battle, the End Times are soon, and I am supposed to cause them. I think we can avert them if we get more information," The blood-drinker kept a serious tone.
'Damned Zangunaz, dammed Umgi if I find out how far this nonsense goes I might just go crazy. Then again, a Zangunaz and I are in different bodies running to be President of the United States so I may have already have done so, I need a drink, one that is not Umgi pisswater, to get through this day.'
August 1st, 2016
Omaha, Nebraska
Skarsnik had just finished another campaign rally.
'At least dat Forgrim git, iz doing me a favah with all dose dirty seekretz he'z leakin. Still, 'ow can a humie not be seen as a humie? First I'ze too Kold, den I'ze too emoshunal, dese humies in dis world might as well be loonies. At least sum of dem like what I doing on dis kampain, but itz all so borin. Talk about promises ere, talk about promises dere, or talk wiv da other humies on me kampain team. Ol Maly is busy in da south, and dis Bill, oh Mork dis Bill.'
As Skarsnik had understood humie relationships as two people agreeing to be co-bosses of this thing called a family, which was like any greenskin tribe, if the tribe rutted with each other, and had kids. That part felt would always feel vile, what puzzled Skarsnik was is if this Bill humie had other girlun bosses, why didn't Hillary just kill him? Why have all these mixed signals? Skarsnik hoped he ignored them, but these humies were too soft for his liking, why care about others, when it's every lad for themselves. But dis Bill git, why did what he do hurt.
'Stupid humie girlun, why not just kill da git? He back-stabbed ya, and ya support 'im?'
Skarsnik was interrupted by "his" fone going off. If it was one thing Skarsnik liked, aside from some of the humie food, it was these new inventions that seemed almost magical. Skasnik looked at the number it was Malekith, well 'Tim Kaine'.
"What do ya want?" The displaced Warlord of the Eight Peaks was getting antsy, touring like was somestupid humie circus preformer was.
"Advice, apparently the Dwarf's running mate, that vampire wants to meet with me in private. He did not bother to say why, but I doubt the parasite wants to harm me." Malekith's tone always seemed to be either slight anger or indifference to Skarsnik not that it mattered.
"I knows it 'ight be stupid to say dis considerin who we are, but look afta yerself. I don't kare for da bloodsukas myself, but he might be friendz wiv dat stunty." Skarsnik warned.
"I do not fear either of them, be it in these bodies or our original ones."
August 1st, 2016
Richmond, Virginia
Malekith had gotten off the phone with Skarsnik.
'At least the Greenskin is proving useful with this campaign.'
Malekith did not tell Skarsnik, about the real reason for the Vampire's meeting, to explain the "real" world. Malekith had already found out, the humans of this world created or at least imagined their world as a way to sell what amounted to toys.
Denied his throne when it is rightfully his, only to gain it and lose it, thanks to the foolish machinations of this vampire. Malekith would play along, but if that vampire intends to do anything that would cause these "future" events to happen, he would personally burn down that rotting Castle he calls home the second they came back. The Witch King stopped moving, his fists had balled up as he was consumed with rage, it was the sure sign of another emotional outburst.
'What was it all for? These people made our world, the Old Ones, and the Chaos Gods. Did anyone ever really have free will? Mot-Morathi talked about trying to fall in love with my father, could she have ever succeeded? Was father always doomed to take up the Sword of Khaine? was I always meant to go into the fire? Was I meant to destroy my friendship with Snorri? Was Allisara supposed to die?' [2]
It was another thing Malekith came to hate in his very brief time here. Without being subjected to near-constant pain, other more unwanted emotions were coming to the surface. Emotions that weren't explosive rage or smoldering anger feelings like regret and even hours-long bouts of ennui.
"No, this rumination is useless. I can't change the past, maybe some of those things were my fault, or it was this damned Games Workshop 'causing' it to happen. Whatever comes I will make my own fate."
"Honey." It was his wife. No, she was dead, this woman was not. They certainly didn't meet talking something as insipid as 'prisoners rights' the only thing prisoners should have rights to, is to die in the service of the strong. Malekith wanted to continue, but then he remembered when he met Allisara. He could still remember how her hair stood out even in place like Tor Alessi. Another place destroyed by his machinations.[2]
"Are you okay?" He turned around to face her, there were so many memories, at least more than he could ever remember of this 'Anne' then what he shared for Allisara. Her Blue eyes and brown hair, were nothing to compared to the brown eyes and auburn hair that was just some distant memory.
"Yes." It was a lie, even just these few days were getting to him. All these emotions he had the luxury to feel, so many bitter reminders of what he has endured millennia without having.
"Are you sure, this campaign has been picking up recently, you and Hillary aren't leaving anything to chance."
"We wont, not this time."
[1] So in going off the End Times, I'm working the plot Malekith was meant to be Phoenix King had he stayed in the Flame of Asuryan, or at least 'worthy' enough than meant to be because it's a contentious decision to say the least. However, while this does not mean I'm going to play this idea to the hilt as was done in the End Times.
[2] Allisara was Malekith's wife introduced in 8th edition, continuing the trend of Malekith having some oddly similar elements of Darth Vader/Anakin in his characterization. (Yes I know he's a fallen hero archetype in some interpretations of the lore.) Although I think Malekith getting burned, might just barely predate Revenge of the Sith.
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16 characters
Sick and tired of being Sick and Tired
- Location
- Alta California
- Pronouns
- They/Them
''dese humies in dis world might as well be loonies''
Oh no Skarsnik has figured us all out!
Oh no Skarsnik has figured us all out!