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Heirs of Sigmar (Warhammer Fantasy)

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THE PROUDSHAPERS OF ALTDORF
@Maugan Ra @TenfoldShields​

The tale of how the Proudshapers came to live in Altdorf is a tragic one, and not one their especially keen on sharing. A sordid tale with Grudges centuries long, family, fighting, and the bloody end of a rivalry that felt like it has been with the Dawi for as long as they drew breath.

It is told that the final, bloody end to the Proudshaper-Grimbrewer rivalry, which existed in the first place due to an argument long ago about which clan made the better beer, it was when the two found the other, much to their mutual shock, anger, and disgust, trying to resettle the same minor abandoned hold.

This lead to a months long standoff, where old Grudges were brought to bear, and new ones written down. Insults were traded and many times it seemed as if Dawi would strike Dawi, but tensions never reached that point. That was until Atragg Proudshaper had enough, and while his father and the other elders debated what to do he rallied a portion of the clan, those young and with something to prove, and set out towards the Grimbrewers camp.

What happened next still shames the Proudshapers to this day.

Slaughter is all Gromgrund and the rest of the clan could call it, for Atragg and his band had killed almost every living soul in the Grimbrewers camp, ending the centuries long rivalry in a bloody and horror inducing display. Atrgg himself was proud of his actions, for had he not done what any good any proud Dawi would have done? Had he not struck hundreds of Grudges from the book?

Atraggs father disagreed, he had struck Grudges from the book yes, but the way he had done it was dishonorable, for with all the enemies arrayed against them Dawi should not kill Dawi. The argument lasted months and for the second time in as many months it seemed as if Dawi would kill Dawi, and father and son would take up arms against another. Such was the vitriol of their arguments, and the stubborn nature of Gromgrund and hotheadedness of Atragg.

But Gromgrunds other children, Utrek and Sebri, managed to bring the argument to an end, and bringing the question as to what to do now, for Gromgrund would not allow the Proudshapers to settle into a hold that they had sullied with the blood of other Dawi. As they deliberated one of the Proudbringers long estranged kin, one Albert Proudshaper, had contacted them through his Correspondence with Utrek. He invited the clan to come live with them in Altdorf, to find penance for their actions in helping the manlings of Sigmars Empire. The idea was preposterous to many, especially Atragg, who felt if they truly had done any wrong(as he still didn't believe he did wrong) then why would though go help manlings instead of other Dawi?

But for Gromgrund, who increasingly felt that if the Proudshapers could kill fellow Dawi, then they did not deserve to live among them, and seeking some way to alleviate the shame and guilt, found promise in the idea. He decided that the Proudshapers would head to Altdorf, to seek penance by helping manlings. Atragg protested, and split off from the clan of those who felt the same. Heading forth to seek a new home in another Karak.

Those that remained, those whom either had a peculiar liking to the manlings that was always present in most Proudshapers, or those who were oathbound to follow Gromgrund no matter where he lead them. Left for Altdorf and with land Albert bought and permission from its rulers and oaths of loyalty sworn to them, settled inside the city, claiming a piece of it for their own.

That was a 100 years ago.

Today Unrek rules over the Proudshapers, whom are known as excellent craftsmen, and it is said that if it exist the Proudshapers have likely made a better version, or invented it all together. Unrek himself is old, his father having passed in battle against Manfred and his brother refusing to 'live in that filthy manling city' inheriting the position of clan head, or as it is coming to be known in the manling term, Lord. Unrek has always had a liking to manlings since his youth, and is seen often dressed in a curious mix of manling and dawi attire. And is the one dawi of the merchants and nobles of Altdorf, or indeed Reikland, have interacted with most. Finding Unrek to be a jolly fellow for a dwarf, and actually somewhat agreeable. He himself is interested in the politics of Reikland, seeing it as his duty to pay attention to going ons of various lords in order to fulfill his oath of loyalty to the Grand Prince, and so that the Proudshapers have a way to shape Reikland more to their liking.

The Proudshapers today are a curious lot, as with more children are born surrounded by manling influence and the Proudshapers natural liking to manlings have evolved the clan into a state like that of any human noble family, though with a Dawi twist. They are a strange mix of manling and Dawi, acting often like humans to a degree that some people start to think them taller and more polite halflings, that is, until someone manages to upset them. Then the usual scrambling to make sure the dwarves don't write it down in their book of grudges happens. Thought that does not happen often, and it seems to be happening less. As more dawi are born in Altdorf, and more 'imperial dwarves' of Altdorf flock to the Proudshapers. Finding a comfortable safety net among the large clan. Alongside the influence of manlings are changing the way the Proudshapers do things.

The Proudshapers get their money through their superior crafting ability. Selling trinkets and the like to the commoners, while assisting various noblemen-for a fee, of course- in things like sculptors, furniture, buildings, weapons, armor, ect.

Though with the declaration of war between Reikland and Middenland, their services might be focused on the Grand Princes war effort. And depending on how they are asked to serve, tools might be put down and set aside, and the Proudshapers might march as a Throng to battle for the second time in a century.
 
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Expanded Capital tables
  • Threadmarks
    • Never Too Much Gold
    Expanded Capital Rules

    We are now in turn three, and one of the area of rules that most people have found a little oblique is how much capital is worth. Since the precise amount of coins each point represents is deliberately abstract, I am instead going to expand the examples given for each possible level of expenditure and expand the scale to a higher end (since 9+ capital representing 'more money than sense' when it took 10 to recruit an army is clearly not ideal).

    So, with that said, some ideas for what you could buy...

    State Troops

    1-5 Capital - Add a small detachment of supporting troops to an existing army (a light artillery battery, a cohort of battle priests, a unit of ogre linebreakers). Provide superior equipment, training or apparel to the officer corps. Incentivize performance in a battle with the offer of a reward purse for meritorious deeds.

    6-10 Capital - Change and/or improve the equipment of an entire army (half-plate armour for all your infantry, upgrading all your archers and crossbowmen to blackpowder), provide army-scale support units like Shallyan priestesses or a guaranteed plot of land for every veteran.

    10-15 Capital - Found an entirely new army of regular state troops. Grant a massive army-wide upgrade to all troops (all infantry get dwarf-forged half plate) or apply a trait upgrade in the form of a unique unit (a massive flagship, a steam tank, whatever new superweapons those lunatics at Nuln have come up with.)

    15-20 Capital - Found a new army of troops with superior equipment and training. Add multiple specialised detachments to an existing army and provide the officers with combined-arms training. Offer knighthood and associated land and title to veterans who perform best in a given army.

    21+ Capital - Every man a knight, in equipment if not title (warning: may incur displeasure from actual knights)

    Mercenaries
    There are always men and women and others willing to sell violence for coin, just as there are always lords of the Old World willing to employ them. The cost of a mercenary unit is determined by two factors - scale and quality.
    • Scale: You can hire a detachment, an army or a host of mercenaries.
      • A detachment cannot fight on its own, but adds something useful to an existing or allied formation. Hiring a force of Kislevite Hussars to give your state army some light cavalry and scouting support would be a good example.
      • An army operates on the same scale as a state army, and will generally have a similar mix of unit types within it. A Tilean pike formation supported by crossbowmen and outriders would be an example.
      • A host is a truly mighty force on the scale of multiple armies, and are very rare to actually be up for sale. Hiring an entire tribe of Ogres and all their attendant livestock and servants would be an example.
    • Quality: This roughly represents a mix of troop experience, equipment and willingness to actually do what you tell them.
      • Poor quality mercenaries are lightly armed, poorly trained, especially self-interested or some combination thereof. Most Free Companies in the Empire operate at this level, as would a Norscan raiding force, as they are good fighters but entirely unwilling to engage 'hard' targets in stand-up battle.
      • Veteran troops are well trained, equipped and motivated, and are generally the point at which 'mercenary' starts being an actual respectable profession. Tilean pike-and-crossbow companies would be an excellent example.
      • Elite troops are generally on par with the 'named' Dogs of War, and bring something truly special to the field. Norscan were-bears, Mengil Manhide's Manflayers and Asarnil the Dragonlord fall into this category.
    1-5 Capital - Hire a detachment of veteran troops or an army of poor mercenaries for one campaign

    6-10 Capital - Hire an army of veteran troops, a host of poor troops, or an elite detachment for one campaign

    11 - 15 Capital - Hire a host of veteran troops or an army of elite troops for one campaign.

    16 - 20 Capital - Obtain the services of a unique hero-level character for one battle.

    21+ Capital - Convince a unique hero-level character to fight for an entire campaign or else bring in outside help from their homeland.

    Empire - Generally speaking the native mercenaries of your homeland tend to be Free Companies, loosely organised bands of cut-throats and thieves that are usually employed by merchants and other non-state actors. They are decent skirmishers and have the advantage of knowing the language and terrain, which makes them useful for local campaigns.

    Tilea - The most famous home of mercenaries in the Old World, the city-states of Tilea tend to field companies of heavily-armoured pikemen backed up by units of wickedly accurate crossbowmen. Some have begun experimenting with the inclusion of blackpowder weapons in their ranged cohorts.

    Estalia - Eternal rival of Tilea, this hot southern realm is a place of great culture, learning and bloodshed. Estalian mercenaries are some of the finest light cavalry in the world, charging in and out with heavy sabres and wheeling in perfect formation across broken terrain. Many of them are the famed Diestros that have mastered a duelling form which blends marksmanship with rapier-fighting.

    Kislev - Kislevite armies are renowned for their cavalry. Every town and village in Kislev can muster a force of cavalry to its defence, whether mobile horse archers or the famed shock cavalry of the Winged Lancers, and Kislevite mercenaries are consequently always mounted. The most famous are the Gryphon Legion, who decorate their banners with the feathers of monsters each man has personally slain.

    Norsca - The proud men of the north are always willing to spill blood for coin, though finding which tribes are reliable mercenaries and which are lawless pirates is a challenge in its own right. On the land their forces never go above poor quality, but Norsca is the only source of mercenary fleets and can offer virtually any scale or quality desired.

    Dawi - The Dwarves have a great love of gold, and fighting for pay is an acceptable means of obtaining it. Dawi mercenaries are never poor quality, and they have the finest heavy infantry you will ever find. Obtaining a Dwarf hero unit will generally require some particularly worthy cause or terrible foe.

    Ogres - The majority of the Ogre Kingdoms lie half a world away, but there are several tribes that have taken up residence in the Grey Mountains and other areas of similarly rugged terrain. They take payment in food as well as gold, and there is nothing in this world that can withstand an Ogre tribe at full charge.

    Other sources will be added as they are contacted through diplomacy.

    Infrastructure and Construction

    Everyone loves a big old building, right? A few people also love roads, walls and even the odd canal. Most of these can be thought of more as status symbols, as the actual economic effects are unlikely to be easily represented given the abstract nature of the system. Also I will set swamp demons on you if you bring the weird GoT canal obsession in here.

    1-5 Capital - Individual buildings located within a settlement or just outside it. A zoo, a new school, a temple of reasonable size, that sort of thing. A manned fort stationed somewhere strategically important.

    6-10 Capital - Major networks or sprawling complexes within a given settlement; a university campus, the Altdorf Menagerie, a mighty cathedral to one of the gods. Improved roads connecting a handful of settlements, a string of forts and other defences necessary to secure them. Improving the walls and other defences of a town or city.

    11-15 Capital - A luxurious palace or an actual castle worth the name. Base cost for new roads and improvements across much of a state (the real difficulty is getting the territory secured first). A major dockyard capable of actually building warships, or a foundry capable of creating guns and cannon (warning, Nuln really likes having a monopoly).

    16-20 Capital - A true citadel, something that can reliably be expected to hold off multiple hostile armies. Grand infrastructure projects such as sewers that won't get infested by rat-shaped beastmen or the reclamation of viable land from the swamps of Westerland.

    21+ Capital - The same as above, but specifically bigger and better than whatever that fellow across the border has.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • The Bursar of Nuln - Gerald Van Heer (Self-professed Merchant Lord of Wissenland)
    ​

    Gerald Van Heer stands (or perhaps wobbles, depending on how harshly he might be gesticulating) as a pillar of flesh and power alike. Born the inheritor of a minor mercantile dynasty lingering upon the riverside of Wissenland, his ambitions and aspirations can be simplified to a a very fine point -- the accumulation of wealth in all its forms. Were he born with an arcane talent, he would certainly have been driven along the path of a mighty archmage. Born a mortal, his hunger for wealth was only matched by his hunger for food. He was not one to adorn his entourage with women as some did, but rather to inlay another ruby upon his ring-bedecked fingers, or to set a new diamond within his vault. As the numbers upon his ledgers grew with his bulk, he set himself upon larger and larger treasures. No longer content with a farming village, he set himself upon the untamed woodlands. Then, upon a nearby town, carving a rapid path to the very heart of Nuln as the wealth of the Empire poured within and the steel to sustain it poured back out in equal measures.

    He is ever poised to try and shape the flow of those raging rivers. Conniving and cajoling, he formed his own faction of merchants and indebted aristocrats to fashion a hammer that smashed apart the rulership of Nuln. Installing himself not as the city's ruler, to which he pledges faithful loyalty to his Count, but as the true master of the myriad merchants and innovative minds that allow it to operate. Situated within the office of Bursar, every swirl of his quill turns the gears that keep the city in perpetual motion, treating the prosperity of the city as an extension of his own.
     
    Maugan Ra said:
    They're working night and day, and the workers say they're feeding them some strange black liquid that means you don't need to sleep.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    So help me, did the Alchemists manage to introduce coffee to the Old World and then immediately destroy its reputation? This upsets me more than all the, y'know, ill-advised tinkering with gods best left forgotten and damaging the pacts of Men with Dawi.
     
    Sicriu Altetya Peshkaruz, Caravan-Princess of the Strigany

    The Strigany have wandered the Old World since before Sigmar was born, eternal refugees from the Ghoul Kingdom of Mourkain. Each caravan, be it a small family of albino peddlers or a great land-fleet of painted wagons, claims descent from a noble line of deathless princes. The children of the Strigany are taught time-worn dances, learn lore held in no book, and practice the hook-blade, crossbow, and spear, for they are inheritors of ancient arts. Yet to the people of the Empire they are known as little more than brigands and circus-folk, shiftless merchants and scandalous mystics. When a Reiklander disavows a woman as unsuitable for marriage, he will say "I'll pay a Strigan to dance, but she'll not sit at my table". At best, the caravans of the Strigany are regarded as convenient entertainment and mercenaries. At worst, they are foreign criminals and vampire-worshipping witches.

    That is about to change. The balance of the Empire shifts like a listing vessel, and one princess of the Strigany has seen her chance. Sicriu Altetya Peshkaruz is young and beautiful, neither traditional traits in a Strigany leader, but has won respect for her vision, her lineage, and her mystical prowess. It was Sicriu who held together the great caravan-fleet as her adppted father withered from fleiderbeit, proud eyes marked by the colour of Shyish, and Sicriu who grew its number twice-over as the world rocked between wars and witch-hunts. Now, she has set a course to see her people established once more as members of the Empire.

    There will be resistance from without and within, she knows, but her people have survived history. They can survive this. With time and wisdom, the Strigany will carve out as a place as true citizens, another partner-tribe in the Land of the Hammer. Who knows? One day they may see a Strigan take the seat of Emperor. Or even... Empress?
     
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    Karena Mikkel, Adherent of Ulric
    ​

    Defend your honor. Always stand true, and never back down from a challenge. Such are the tenants of Ulric, god of war and winter. Such are the tenants Karena Mikkel has lived for her entire life.

    Born to a poor family of huntsmen, Karena lost her father to a brutal winter and her mother to a starving bear. Thus did she come to valuable lessons. The world is not kind, and all life is a struggle to survive. It is no surprise, then, that she found herself drawn to Ulric's cult at a young age. There she learned the axe and the sword, the spear and the shield. She came to adulthood bathed in the blood of a wolf she killed with her own hands, and wears its fur across her shoulders to this day.

    Now past her fortieth year, Karena is just as hale and hearty as she ever was. Some believe her to be especially blessed within Ulric's sight for her continued vitality, but she has dismissed such claims. Ulric has already given every man and woman what they need in order to overcome and survive. Further intervention is not only unnecessary, but also presumptuous to assume.

    Karena has spent most of her life in the field waging war against the many enemies of Ulric and mankind. It is only in battle that one can prove oneself worthy in Ulric's sight, and so she has spent decades setting her axe against orcs, beastmen, and even worse monsters. The Empire's recent troubles have found her taking a greater role in shaping events, and while she is not comfortable with this she does not begrudge it. All are called upon to serve Ulric and the rest of the gods in their own ways, and if this is hers then she will not shirk her duty.

    She only hopes she will be enough.
     
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    Expanded Knightly Orders
  • Threadmarks


    • Knightly Orders

    Near-exclusively drawn from the ranks of the nobility, the Knightly Orders of the Empire are one of its proudest institutions, the crushing fist that strikes against mankind's foes wherever they rear their ugly heads. While their battlefield prowess is legendary, and their feats of heroism well known, in this disunited age it is often their political power that most concerns the Lords who rule over the divided land.

    By long tradition, Knightly Orders are self-governing institutions funded and supported by one of two sources; Templar Orders are supplied by the priests and laity of a particular faith, while Secular Orders owe their support to the local nobility from which they often draw their recruits. Neither has formal authority over their associated knights, but rare is the Grandmaster that would utterly shun the request of a benefactor.

    Mechanics

    Just as standard factions have Armies and Fleets, Knightly Orders have Chapters, each representing roughly a hundred knights and all associated squires, outriders and support staff. Chapters do not have the normal division of experience or quality - any collection of knights is by definition a unit of veteran troops equipped and trained to the best possible standards. However, most Knightly Orders maintain one particular Chapter as its 'Inner Circle', which consists entirely of proven heroes and is consequently better than the rest.

    How a given Chapter measures up to a standard Army in fighting power is hard to quantify, but they can be taken as being roughly on par before tactics and equipment are taken into account; a chapter able to leverage its immense momentum and striking power can rout an army from the field quite easily, while an army that digs in with spears and handguns could arguably see off an assault with minimal casualties.

    Each Knightly Order will also have at least one Chapterhouse, a facility somewhere between a temple, fortress and barracks where their knights can rest and train between active deployments. While based at a Chapterhouse, a Chapter of knights has no upkeep, but can only undertake operations within the same general geographic vicinity; generally within the same province, or along the border regions of an adjacent one. If a Chapter wishes to operate further afield, it must pay a steep cost - 10 capital per chapter per turn.

    Note that as knightly orders do not generate capital by default, this funding must typically come from another player.

    Establishing a new Chapterhouse will generally carry a baseline cost of 15 capital and 10 influence. This is a one-off investment representing the land grants, contracts and establishment of all appropriate support personnel.

    Replenishment

    An organisation consisting almost entirely of young members of the nobility cannot easily replace its losses - prestige, far more than mere coin or material incentive, is the primary means by which a Knightly Order recruits new members and replaces its losses.

    Chapters can be injured and damaged in much the same way as armies can. However, rather than simply repairing over time, it costs 5 influence per chapter per turn to restore them a level of 'health' - from Decimated to Bloodied to Reduced to Full Strength.

    If you wish to raise new Chapters, this can be done so via the expenditure of 15 influence per Chapter. Note that this can also be paid by other powers on your behalf, as local nobles and rulers encourage their subjects to take oaths with your orders.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • "This town ain't big enough for the two of us."

    The woman who said the words was slight, flame-red hair cascading down her back. She wasn't armored, eschewing the plate of the knights for a leather vest and a cloth tunic. Two pistols, wheellocks of dwarvish built, rested lightly in holsters that slung low on her hips, her hands waiting for the twitch of movement from her opponent, across the small town's street.

    "Little 'umie, thinkin' she can do sumthin bout it? Wit Gormar gone, dat means I am da big Warboss!"

    "Oui, that you are." Her eyes narrowed under the brow of her wide rimmed hat, as the Orc, his blunderbuss in hand, waited for that twitch of movement, same as her. "But I? I'm Adeliza Louvrain. The Red Trigger of Paravonn. I crossed Athel Loren on foot, I put a bullet in the Red Duke, and I broke bread with a Prince of Nehekhara. I fought back to back with the Tzar of Kislev, and routed the chaotic hosts of the Border Kingdoms alone! Even Herdkiller feared to cross me! And you think that—"

    "RAARG—"

    BLAM! BLAM!

    The Orc collapsed, a round hole in his gun hand and between his eyes.

    "The day it's an Orc that gets the better of me, I might as well hang up my spurs."

    A group of retainers hurried up, dragging away the dead Orc. Another woman sidled up to Adeliza, taking and slowly loading her pistols.

    "How much of any of that was true?"

    "Oh, the boasting? None of it. All total, complete lies. But the orcs, and the Sollanders, they don't know that."

    CHARACTER: Adeliza Louvrain
    TITLES: "The Red Trigger of Paravonn," Empress of the Border Kingdoms (deposed,) High Priestess of the New Border Kingdom (deposed), Grand High Queen of the Reformed Border Kingdoms (deposed), First Citizen of the Border Republic (deposed), Elector Countess of South Nordland (deposed), Royarch of East Brettonia (deposed), Pharaoh of North Khemri (deposed), Princess of West Cathay (also deposed) and Baronet of Pfieldorf.

    Adeliza, born of the noble family of Louvrain, in Brettonia's Duchy of Paravonn, lived a sheltered childhood, growing up a princess, more or less, and treated as such by her family's retainers. When she was sixteen, and set to be married off to another young noble, she ran off with a, ah, close female friend of hers, taking a horse and a sword and making their way east, towards the Empire. It turned out, however, that the Empire was a lot less hospitable then the stories said for a pair of young women, and with their coin running low, the two had to find some way to make a living. Neither were interested in the convent, nor the bluer methods available, but there was a mercenary company leaving Nuln. The mercenary captains laughed when she asked to have a chance to join, and prove herself, but offered her a pistol and a target anyway.

    To the surprise of the mercenaries, Adeliza was very, very good with those pistols.

    For the next decade, Adeliza and her paramour, Mathilde d'Paravonn, fought with the mercenary Company of the Standard, first for and against the princelings and adventurers of the Border Princes, and then after the death, years later, of the captain who once inducted her, as their leader. The Company set up, ruled, lost, conquered, ruled again, and lost again, dozens of little kingdoms, going from living in opulent luxury to eating leather at scarcely a moment's notice. But, for all its hardship, it was still a life of adventure, and that Brettonian trait of romantic notions of adventure had never quite left her. Fond of inventing deeds, titles, and quests she'd accomplished, she'd only truly earned one title – the Red Trigger of Paravonn, for her deadeye accuracy with a gun.

    Hearing tale of warfare breaking out in the Empire, again, Adeliza led the Company of the Standard north, towards the Empire, arriving just in time to take the coin of the Sollanders to aid them against Waagh!Gormar. Promptly losing, she turned around and offered her spurs to 'Count' Gormar, helping him keep his new Sollander subjects in line, using her troops as an intermediary between the peasants and the Orcs, and preventing any foolish Sollanders from launching a doomed uprising. When the Imperial coalition, oathblades gleaming, marched south, she once again turned her coat, and fought with the Imperials against her once-overlord.

    With Gormar dead, Adeliza rushed the Company of the Standard to the only partially intact town of Pfeildorf, killing one of the orc underbosses trying to rally the Waagh, and crowning herself – after 'finding' some 'documents' about her purported Sollandish origins – the new Baronet of Pfeildorf. And having an army, guns, and a propensity for using them, the Sollanders didn't dare say no.
     
    @comradepitrovsky - I'll have to veto this application.

    For one, I have refused all previous applications to play a mercenary group in the game so far, largely on the basis that they don't have nearly enough of a stake in the whole mess surrounding the reunification for it to hang together very well. A Bretonnian born woman with a history of abandoning previous domains has even less investment than most.

    Secondly... it takes more than some fake documents and a mercenary troop to declare yourself ruler of Solland, because the very first thing any noble worth the name is going to do is research your heritage and ask questions... which is where the whole 'worked for Gormar' thing crops up.
     




    "I live life without fear, and face death without remorse, for the Garden awaits. When He comes for me, He shalt find me smiling, content that I died well."
    ​
    Exile. Bandit. Mercenary. A noble in name only. These are the words that chased Wilhelm through his early years. Once, the Kellner family had been a proud and noble line, warriors who had long guarded Black Fire Pass against the greenskins and other horrors of the night. But times change, and fortunes rise and fall. As the wars of the Age of Three Emperors raged, the Kellner family became just another casualty of the internecine warfare and petty disputes that the Empire had long known. Wilhelm's birthright was a stolen estate and a burned household His kin were corpses or prisoners or refugees, scattered to the nine winds. His inheritance? A sword, and little more.

    But he had a sword, and the will to use it. Oaths for vengeance were sworn and, inevitably, forgotten as an empty belly and an emptier coin purse became more important. Concepts of chivalry and honor taught to him by his family were cast aside as he took up the way of so many itinerant nobles: The way of a petty robber knight and he proved to have no small skill. In time he came into the company of mercenaries, and then to the command of mercenaries, growing in talent and fame, but all the coin he earned in those early and ugly days couldn't fill the hole in his heart. Fleeting moments of glory and the triumph after a hard-fought victory were the only true satisfaction he knew. All else was a dull haze.

    Wilhelm Von Kellner should've died in Talabecland. As he is wont to tell those few he is willing to share his life history with, he certainly deserved it.

    The Order of the Black Rose were knights without peer. Over the years they shifted from liege to liege, but always they had served with distinction. First had been the Princes of Stirland, than the Empress Ottilia, and so trusted were they that they had served as a personal bodyguard of one hundred knights for these mighty lords. At that time, it was one hundred alone, recruiting only the most talented of warriors. And they had proven their worth in countless battles, even playing a key role in the first conflict of the Age of Three Emperors in the Battle of the Talabec where at the Empress' side they shattered Stirland's army, with only the Knights of Sigmar's Blood able to even slow them down. Though they had grown since those days and broadened their recruitment, they still had an eye for quality, and one particular above all. A dedication to the God of Death, and a fearless willingness to meet His embrace.

    When they intervened in a dispute between rival lords, the mercenary army Wilhelm was a part of offered little resistance. Wilhelm however, with his company fled or dying, outnumbered twenty to one and given the offer to surrender as one of the few knights on the field, dug in his heels, raised his blade and refused. Indeed, he challenged the apparent leader of the black-clad knights he faced, who to his surprise, actually agreed. He was fortunate indeed not to perish from the wounds he suffered, for the knight he had challenged was none other than Grandmaster Leopoldine Von Meyer, who brought him low with her blackened hammer though not easily. Some say he actually managed to bring her to yield, only to pass out from his wounds immediately thereafter.

    Whether true or not, he spent many weeks on the verge of death, dreaming fitful dreams. He dreamed of a garden, of ravens, and above all else, of a black rose. Some called it a miracle when he survived, and even more did so when within a few months he was fit to ride once more. He rode to the Chapter House of the Order of the Black Rose, and there he was met by Leopoldine once more. She listened to his story, his confessions, and welcomed him into the Order of the Black Rose.

    Wilhelm von Kellner should've died in Talabecland, but he had been given a second chance at life, and a second chance at a meaningful death. He rose in the ranks, relearning the ways of honor and chivalry upon the field, and giving himself to Morr with every battle. Sometimes they faced against the horrors of the undead or Chaos alongside the Black Guard or other Templars of Morr, but the Order of the Black Rose, for all its religious devotion, was ultimately a secular order. So again, and again Wilhelm rode to battle for the Order's lieges. He would face bandits, beastmen, armies of mercenaries and rebel lord and each in turn he would best. Each he faced with a newfound joy in his heart, and each victory offered something more than coin could ever offer. Honor was its own reward.

    His years as a mercenary captain had given him an eye for politicking and logistics, which proved him well as he rose in the ranks to command. He led the defense of sieges, guarded relief columns, and handled finances and proper supply of fortifications. Over the years, he even managed to press his claim on the small fief in Averland he had long given up as lost to his family. When Leopoldine finally retired from her long service, there was little question it would be Wilhelm who would be her successor.

    Grandmaster. Knight. Hero. A master of Chapterhouses and a lord with land to call his home. These are the words by which Wilhelm meets every new day, determined to treat each one as though it may be his last.
     

    Chancellor Bechtram von Muncklestein
    Chancellor of the Imperial College of Engineering

    ​
    Leonardo da Miragliano was undoubtedly the greatest inventor the Old World ever saw. From leaning, gravity defying towers to glass prisms that disrupted magic to the irreproducible to this day steam tanks , every one of his ingenious inventions was ahead of his time and many are still today, nearly 200 years after his death. But the greatest legacy that Leonardo da Miragliano left behind was the Imperial College of Engineers. The institution that he founded (and then destroyed the original campus of in a fatal accident while pioneering heavier-than-air flight) remains the most prestigious institution of engineers and master engineers in the Empire. The Gunnery School of Nuln's creations may oft be more reliable, and reproducible but it is the College of Engineer that blazes the way with masterworks that prove the concepts that lesser engineers innovate of off.
    It takes a unique set of skills to be Chancellor of the fractious Imperial College of Engineering that Leonardo built
    A powerful set of lungs (for bellowing students into submission)
    A cunning mind (for understanding what inventions will and won't explode)
    Reflexes (for getting out of the room before the invention explodes)
    and persuasiveness (for getting endowments out of people)
    For the last twenty years Bechtram von Muncklestein has used these skills to keep the machinery of the college moving smoothly. Under his tenure there have been no major incidents of failed experiments damaging the buildings, student attrition has been kept at acceptable levels and adequate funding has been consistently secured. But it would not be the College of Engineering if it was satisfied with 'sufficient' Von Muncklestein has ambitions,expensive ambitions that involve grandiose projects and breathtaking innovations of machinery. Let the Imperial College of Gunnery concern itself with what is "practical' 'reliable' and 'sane'. The masterworks that Von Muncklestein will create will show the whole empire, no the whole Old World, where the real center of learning is.
     
    Cavalier said:
    This game has just been one sucker-punch after another, and am beginning to feel like I was never welcome in the first place.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    No, if you weren't welcome I would have just turned down your application. I don't do the whole 'make them feel unwelcome so they leave without me needing to kick people out' thing that I've seen happen elsewhere.

    If you're not having fun then yeah that's an issue and I can't say "stay on anyway" in good conscience, but if there's something that could be done to make the game more enjoyable for you then we can work on doing that.
     
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