I offer again gratitude for your hospitality. I also repeat my hopes for our future in the enrichment of your province, as with all this Empire.
The disaster that has struck to the East is an affront to the Old Faith and Young Gods, an echo of ravaged Mordheim. Though my people bring me rumours of witch covens, plague-rat mutants, and shipments of unhallowed warpstone, the only certainty for now is the suffering of our new countryfolk.
I therefore ask your permission to bear Talabecland's colours and letters of passage onto the borders of the stricken Moot, there to bear supplies and holy folk to its guardians, and to bear back such refugees as have been sanctioned by the priests and hunters in attendance. The name of my people is oft-ill-regarded, yet I hope that with your endorsement, and the sponsorship of the sacred Cults, this endeavour will make our intentions clear to all.
Yours in sincerity
Princess Sicriu Altetya Pescaruz
Ears across the Empire are pricked with sorrow at news of the judgement that has fallen upon your neighbours. Your response, swift and decisive, is a tragic necessity, for the righteousness of Stirland's folk is well-known. To harbour the guilty would be to put your people at risk, and to harbour the innocent would be to put them at risk.
Yet you must surely consider the possible consequences of such a reprisal, both for the business of securing the lost Moot, and for the souls of Stirland. My folk are well-versed in the extremes to which homeless wandering may drive a soul. With the backing of the Cults of Taal and Rhya, and the Half-folk enclaves of the Westlands, I have accepted a commission to bear the displaced folk of the Moot's border to safety, Halfling and Human alike.
I therefore ask your permission to enter Stirland's borders, there to bear supplies and holy folk, and to co-operate with the priests, questors and guards arrayed against the Moot's corruption. Thereby I mean to relieve the pressure of your ravaged neighbour against your doors. The name of my people is oft-ill-regarded, and these are times when suspicion and hysteria wax full, yet I hope that together, and with news of our coming spread ahead, we may brighten the coming tomorrow.
I have received your letters of invitation with surprise and gratitude. Sylvania has oft been unkind to my people, not least for the enmity of its ancient dark-starred rulers. I would be only too pleased to begin mending such histories, now that we are together conjoined in the House of the Hammer. Though unkind rumour far overstates our relationship with such dark matters, I believe we may be able to assist in understanding the ailments of your newfound land.
The Cult of Morr is a bastion between dead and living, and as you doubtlessly know by the now, the Moot is most certainly dead. Your works to honour those passed are sung in dirges across the Empire, so I have no doubt that the heralds of Morr will soon be making passage to the Moot. I have already been commissioned to bring supplies and evacuation to the people of that border; I invite your acolytes to join our caravans for swiftness and safety.
All that I ask is the weight of your holy word in favour of this caravan-expedition. My people are oft-maligned as graverobbers and blasphemers over sad misunderstandings, a reputation that may impede our relief of the Moot's living victims. I hope to overturn this unfounded repute with good works and faith, yet the vouchsafe of one so respected for his stoic separation from mere politics would be invaluable in this endeavour, and help stem the tide of untimely dead.
Salzenmund at the dawn of the year was a city that was gripped by winter. Thick snow-drifts impeded travel, and the River Salz was choked with ice flows from its headwaters in the Silver Hills, which lent the burgeoning city a certain air during these months. The inns and taverns of the city were quiet this time of year, with only a trickle of travelers braving the road from Erengrad to Middenheim. Now though, the Baroness of Nordland was entertaining guests this time of year, a trio of black-clad riders coming from the south.
Of the three, Jana primarily cared about their leader, a lean-cut man with thinning hair cut through with grey. His weapons and the scars that marred his face marked him as a sellsword, and the blackened steel plates under his cloak was a badge for his success as his chosen trade. Jana did not meet him as a lord might a mercenary though.
She met him as one might an old friend, which is of course why she had sought him out in the first place.
"Well! If it isn't little Jana!" The man said when he entered Jana's solar, "Last time I saw you, you couldn't have been much taller than my knees, and now look at you."
"Uncle Friedrich!" Jana smiled and pulled the man into a hug, "Look at me? Look at you, you old bastard! If I had waited any longer, you'd have shown up looking whiter than the snow outside."
"Now now, you've always thought I was old" Friedrich laughed, "I'll admit, when I first heard through the grape-vine that someone up North was looking for me, I couldn't have imagined it'd be Heinrich's girl. Look at you though, moving up in the world."
"Come on, take a seat you old coot, you must be tired from the ride up" Jana motioned to one of the seats in the solar, lit by the flickering fire that kept her warm whilst she did her duties in these long winter months, "But yes, a lot has changed these past few years"
"I prefer to be called experienced, it sounds better to potential employers" said Friedrich, but still he groaned slightly as he lowered himself into the chair, the man certainly had not let himself go to seed, but there was only so much a man could do to fend off time, "Not that we've had many of those lately, these last few years, all everyone wants for their contracts is those godsdamned tileans or kislevites. No one appreciates proper imperial steel these days. It's good to see you though, Jana, even if you were too damn circumspect for a Nordlander in calling me up here."
"I'll admit part of it was just to see an old friend of Da's again, but I have business to talk with you concerning your Banners" Jana passed Friedrich a rolled sheet of parchment, "I have a contract, and I figured I'd offer to a friend of the family first."
"Aye, 's what I thought, 'bout time fortune smiled upon me and mine" Friedrich laughed again, and tucked the piece of parchment into one of his pockets, "Figured that even after he's dead that old bastard would still be watching out for me, did he ever tell you about the time he saved me from a Norscan raiding party?"
"It may have come up once or twice" Jana smiled
"Well, your old man couldn't spin a story for pigshit, so while I'm here I might as well clear the air. Firstly, it started with me saving him-"
To the Custode del Portale Sieghard Eberl @Dadarian
Though the Crusade to reclaim the legacy of the Menogoths and the erasure of the beast Gormar has been successful, it is my deepest regret to say that a great many perished at greenskin hands. I intend to inter all of these heroes at the Garden of Morr at Pfeildorf, and I would be most honoured if you could attend their final passing into the Kindly Realm as these great men and women deserve. Let the Gods remember them for who they were, as holy warriors defending the Empire of Sigmar from its most vile and contemptuous of foes.
By the Grace of Morr, His Imperial & Princely Highness Friedrich von Schwarzburg, Grand Count of the Grand County of Wissenland and Grand Prince of the Grand Principality of Solland, Chieftain of the Merogens, Count of Nuln, Armourer of the Empire and South-Warden, Defender of the Rivers Soll and Echoes, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
With winter's chill putting an end to ongoing hostilities and bringing all parties involved to the negotiating table, the early months of 2203 IC were marked by a seemingly endless flurry of ambassadors, delegations and covert operatives moving back and forth between the various neighbouring states. Each had their mission to complete, or another's undertaking to foil, and by the time the spring heat melted the snows dozens were already dead or hopelessly ruined by the vicious clash of intrigue. Still, their lives made fertile soil in which new life could blossom.
The Pact of Seasons, named after a particularly clever ambassador's inspired wordplay, was among the first of the new alliances to be announced that year, with formal - if hastily written - copies of the announcement being carried on the tide to every Count, Prince and Lord in Sigmar's Empire and beyond. At its heart was a diplomatic marriage, to take effect after an appropriate period of courting and final negotiation, between Leopold Heinz of Middenland and Alexandra Elfride Feuerbach of Talabecland. By wedding the heir of Middenland to the youngest daughter of Talabecland's Countess, the two provinces would display their bonds of blood and honour to the world.
Dynastic marriages have been the bedrock of international relations for centuries, especially between powers close enough in stature and military might to be considered some kind of peer. It was therefore no surprise to anyone involved when the marriage was arranged to serve as a capstone to a binding treaty of mutual defence between the two provinces, Middenland swearing to defend Talabecland from outside aggressors with all military, financial and political might it could command, and Talabecland promising the same in equally comprehensive terms. What was perhaps surprising was the way that the agreement was framed.
With the full blessing and cooperation of the Cults of Ulric, Taal and Rhya - as signed and witnessed by the closest thing each of those faiths had to a highest authority - the treaty was portrayed as being as much a spiritual matter as a political one. The oldest of the gods, come together to bless a union of the provinces where their faith held the greatest sway. Who, then, could claim opposition to such a union?
Naturally, there was to be a wedding, a full and formal celebration to be conducted once both parties were of age - two years, by most reckonings, though the legal agreements sanctified by the marriage were put into place almost immediately. Quite aside from the matter of decency, all agreed that the extra margin of time would give them time to properly implement the more in-depth and complicated segments of the treaty before they were called upon to take the strain of international relations. The formation of a Diet was perhaps the most significant, drawn from the high nobility of each province and given authority over all matters of a legal dispute between the two, but the draft of economic pacts, trade agreements and other associated loans and subsidies would be a major undertaking as well.
None but the gods could truly know what the future might hold, but at the very least these two provinces were sworn to face it together.
IMPERIAL CHRYSOBULL DECLARING THE SIGNING OF A PACT AT PFEILDORF CONCERNING THE ELECTION OF HIS IMPERIAL & PRINCELY HIGHNESS FRIEDRICH VON SCHWARZBURG TO THE MOST SIGMARITE THRONE OF THE EMPIRE IN ENTIRETY AND TO HIM THE PLEDGING OF THE SWORDS OF THE COUNTS ELECTORAL OF THE REIKLAND, THE WESTERLAND AND AVERLAND AND THE NATURE OF TRADE UPON THE IMPERIAL RIVERS WHICH LIE SUBJECT TO HIS IMPERIAL & PRINCELY HIGHNESS
We, the Imperial & Princely Highness Friedrich do hereby promulgate:
that We lay our claim to take the elected Throne of Sigmar's Empire with the Consent Freely Given of the following: His Serene Highness Luccinanto Yjsbraant van Hoogmans-Palutano, His August & Imperial Majesty Konstantin I Rannulf Engel, His Serene Highness Francis Ludwig von Ellinsbach,
that We, the Imperial & Princely Highness Friedrich in Consent Freely Given with the Holy Counts Electoral of Sigmar's Empire promulgate and participate in the annual holding of Four Weeks of Imperial Diet, the Location of which shall be chosen in Freely Given Consent by the Holy Counts Electoral and Emperor in Union the Prior Year's Diet,
that any Assault upon a Holy Electoral Signature to this Statute at Pfeildorf or Holy Electoral Signatures to subsequent Statutes shall be considered a Villain and a Scoundrel attacking not only Our Holy Electoral Signature but the Signatures of the Pfeildorf Statute in Union & Confederation and that any Declaration of War shall be made in Consent with the Holy Counts Electoral Signature to the Statute at Pfeildorf such that the Pact at Pfeildorf shall be considered Indivisible in War as well as Peace,
that the Imperial Rivers the Reik, the River of Echoes, the Soll and their Tributaries shall be Free from Tolls against the Legitimate & Haendrykian Business of Merchants subject to another Holy Electoral Signature to this Statute at Pfeildorf or Holy Electoral Signature to subsequent such Statutes and that the Most Villainous Act of Privateering shall be a Declaration of War upon all Good Men & Women of this Statute at Pfeildorf,
that the Internal Import and Export of the Produce of Fields, Cattle, Animals for Eating, Wool, Silverware & Jewelry, the Metallic Harvest of the Quarry, Machinery & Firearms shall not be Taxed by more than the Rate agreed upon at the Imperial Diet in Consent Freely Given by the Holy Counts Electoral
Sealed and Signed in the Grace of Sigmar Heldenhammer and the Grace of Blessed Myrmidia and the Grace of Manann Lord of the Sea by,
His Serene Highness Luccinanto Yjsbraant van Hoogmans-Palutano, Elector Count of the Westerland, Chieftain of the Jutones, Baron of Marienburg, Imperial Protector of the Sea of Claws in its Entirety, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
His August and Imperial Majesty Konstantin I Rannulf Engel, Grand Prince of the Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Chieftain of the Unberogen, Overlord-Admiral of the River Reik, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
His Serene Highness Francis Ludwig von Ellinsbach, by the Grace of Sigmar, the Grand Count of Averland, Landgrave of Heideck, Count of Streissen, Chieftain of the Brigundians, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
His Imperial & Princely Highness Friedrich von Schwarzburg, Grand Count of the Grand County of Wissenland and Grand Prince of the Grand Principality of Solland, Chieftain of the Merogens, Count of Nuln, Armourer of the Empire and South-Warden, Defender of the Rivers Soll and Echoes, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
To the Grand Count of Averland Francis Ludwig von Ellinbach (@ChineseDrone),
the Grand Baroness of Hochland Theophaneia Ysmay Gloriana Hochen (@Mina),
the Grand Baroness of Norland Jana von Moltke (@Crilltic),
the Chancellor of the League of Ostermark Frederick von Schaffernorscht (@Bandeirante),
the Grand Princess of Ostland Astrid von Wolfenburg (@EarthScorpion),
the Electorate-Lords and Ladies of Stirland (@Maugan Ra),
the Grand Duchess of Talabecland Brigette II (@Scia),
the Baron of Marienburg Luccinanto Yjsbraant van Hoogmans-Palutano (@ManusDomini),
the Grand Count of Wissenland Friedrich von Schwarzburg (@SirLagginton),
the Most Holy Grand Theogonist Wenzel Kraft of the Cult of Sigmar (@Dovahsith),
the Wounded Wolf Ar-Ulric Adolf von Jager of the Cult of Ulric (@Alectai)
and the Widow-Regent Elizabeth Todbringer of Middenheim and Middenland (@Deadly Snark),
WHEREFORE, the intrusions of the Grand Duchies upon the River Reik have been curbed in their entirety and the sovereign waters of Our Father returned to the care of we, his eternal trustees;
WHEREFORE, the Free City of Carroburg and the environs of the Drakwald have been returned to the safekeeping of the Southern wardens and the lands therein made safe for Reikish people;
WHEREFORE, the grievous offenses given against the Grand Principality of the Reikland have been redressed with blood, treasure, and the final defeat of the terrible Regent Konrad von Schlid at the hands of our valiant Prince:
WE THUS DECLARE THE WAR CONCLUDED
AND A STATE OF PEACE BETWEEN US
These, the terms extended to the Regent Elizabeth Todbringer have been found acceptable to both parties:
FIRSTLY, the settlements of Scheinfeld, Nupstedt, Eslohe, the River Baren in its entirety and the headwaters outside Grossfurre, the city of Grossfurre to Carroburg and the River Reik, and all within its bounds along the coast will be ceded immediately to the dominion of the new Drakwald Duchy and the administration of Duke von Bildenhof, vassal-lord of Grand Prince Konstantin Ranulf Engel I.
SECONDLY, the rights of the Grand Duchies to the Mirror Moors beyond the Western banks of the River Baren and the shores of its Lake, and all attendant settlements, will not be abrogated or infringed.
THIRDLY, the Grand Principality of the Reikland, in its magnanimity and munificence, will allow the contingent return of the Grand Duchies merchants to the waters their lord once defiled.
FOURTHLY, not more than one year from this day will the Holy Electors of Reikland and Middenland convene to commence negotiations for the Runeblade Legbiter.
FIFTHLY, for a period of no less than three years from this day the Grand Principality of Reikland will wage no war against the Grand Duchies of Middenland and Middenheim and no war will be waged against them in turn.
So say we all.
Sealed and Signed in the Grace of Sigmar Heldenhammer by His August and Imperial Majesty, the Elector-Count of the Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Chieftain of the Unberogen, Overlord-Admiral of the River Reik and the Fleet, Supreme Marshall of the Army, the Grand Prince Konstantin Rannulf Engel I and the Assembled Lords and Ladies of the Reiklander Diet in the Year 2203 following the Coronation of Our Lord Sigmar, the First Emperor.
To the esteemed (@Revlid):
Caravan-Princess Sicriu Altetya Peshkaruz
Mistress of Wagons and Wheels
Heir to the Kingdom Betwixt Black Gulf and Maddened Marsh
Princess of the Strigany in the Imperial States
Honoured Princess of the Wagon-Folk, your aid in my people's hour of need warms my heart like a winter fire, and brings hope renewed like the first ray of dawn. Long have our peoples endured the hardships of this world together, and long shall we endure in future so long as friendship binds us. Kindness and good deed shall ever be rewarded with further good deed, as the wheel of the world turns.
It is with eager arms that I will accept every lost son and daughter of the Moot whom you can ferry over fen and briar to Taalahim-on-river, or to any port on the Stir where your caravans may reach. I will dispatch a fleet of the grain ships of House Underhill and the swift river sloops of Marienburg to embrace them and bring them to new hearth and home. Many of our people may have a future, thanks to your kindness.
It is my promise on the names of the Gods that so long as there is a Moot inhabited by the People somewhere on the Earth, your folk shall never want for hearth or help within our borders. If there ever is a time in future when it is within my power to do you a kindness, no matter the cost, you will not find House Underhill wanting. In the meantime, it is my hope that these renewed bonds of friendship may lead to trade and prosperity renewed, and may new paths opened for both our peoples.
Thank you.
Yours truly,
Bowman Brandywine
Master of House Underhill
Prince of the Hill-Folk
Article:
To the esteemed (@Cavalier, @Winged Knight ):
Archduke Horst III of the noble line of Wolfbach
Protector of the Meissig
Steward of the Peers of the County of Stirland in Diet Assembled
under authority as vested by Her Highness Elector-Countess Elianna
Honoured Archduke, in Marienburg we read of your recent proclamation with interest and concern. As House Underhill stands as protector of halflings in all the Imperial States, you will of course understand why.
Word has reached us that you are an honest man given to plain-speaking, so that we hope you will appreciate it if we are plain in our representations to you. We do not gainsay your proclamation, as there seems to be wisdom in ensuring the halflings of Stirland are far away before they are murdered in their homes, warehouses and pie-shops, or thrown to the dogs for the entertainment of the many fine Peers of Stirland. Nor do we gainsay your right to protect the territory of Stirland however you see fit as ordained by Sigmar. Far be it from any to deny the noble estates of Stirland in Diet Assembled their ancient rights.
However, just as you have an ancient duty to defend the noble estates of Stirland, so too does House Underhill now undertake a similarly ancient task to see the safety of the halfling people, especially as it has been much reduced in the last year, by the actions of foul witches who invaded our ancestral lands without our knowledge or consent. Halflings fell fighting alongside Templars of Sigmar on that black eve, and you may write to the Grand Theogonist himself to confirm it.
We hope that you will do everything in your power to ensure that the depature of the halfling people from Stirland takes place peacefully. House Underhill, its friends, and the Order of the White Wolf will be collaborating to ensure that the refugees are protected on their long journey to Taalahim-on-river and the ports of the Stir. If you could render them all possible reasonable assistance, then House Underhill will consider you and your children forever in its debt. We appeal to your mercy, and to your piety as an honest son of Sigmar.
Yours truly,
Bowman Brandywine
Master of House Underhill
Chief of the Haffengilde in all the Imperial States
Prince of the Moot-In-Exile
From the Desk of the Duke of Drakwald, Henryk von Bildhofen
To the Denizens of the Empire
Have you recently lost your home to the depradations of war? Are you a victim of oppression with no place else to go? Have you recently accidentally condemned your entire race to a slow extinction due to meddling with forces beyond your ken?
If you are, good news! Due to the boundless generosity displayed by the Duke of Drakwald, the Drakwald is now opening it's arms to the downtrodden, the oppressed, and the dispossessed of the Empire! Yes, that's right, if you have nowhere else to go and therefore no ability to say no to the first offer that comes your way, the Drakwald is now open to you!
If living in haunted moors and mutant infested woods sounds like a better option than your current circumstances, come on down to Carroburg where the friendly Drakwalders will set you up with a parcel of prime, unsettled land and help you to reestablish yourself in one of the fastest growing duchies in the Empire. Be ready to marvel at the virgin, untouched forest that stretches on as far as the eye can see. Open your heart to your new, draconic neighbours and their tax dodging mothers. Get out your pitchforks and prepare to kill your other neighbours, those mutant abominations, those twisted horrors wrought in the image of man by fell powers.
Faction: The Duchy of Drakwald Faction Head: Henryk von Bildhofen, the Duke of Drakwald Faction Heir: Johann von Bildhofen, son of Magnus von Bildhofen
Family Tree:
The Late Duke of Carroburg, {Gottfried von Bildhofen, Called Gottfried the Decrepit} - Born 2102 and Died 2199 IC of a Broken Heart
Married Seven Times to Reputable Ladies from the Drakwald, Middenland, Nordland, Hochland, and Reikland
His First Wife, {Matilda Gottschall} - Born 2111 and Died 2129 IC in Childbirth
By the grace of Grand Baroness Theophaneia Ysmay Gloriana Hochen, Baroness of Hergig, Chieftain of the Cherusen, Marshal of the Talabec Reach, and Defender of the Shrines
For their valiant service in Sigmar's name, the following men and women of Hochland are pardoned of all crimes for which they had been found guilty, those being trespasses against the lands, estates, and privileges of the Grand Baroness in chief, with sundry minor failures of morality that do not align themselves with the Forces of Evil or temporal seditions and treasons. They hunted well, they served honorably, and they brought honor and inspiration to all of Hochland.
Dieterich of Garssen
Esther
Fasolt of Esk
Gregor of Bergendorf
Helembertus of Tussenhof
Henrich Thrice-hung
Henrich of Esk
Kethe of Gerzen
Margaritha Rabbit-killer
Riggo Barrelbottom
Sigmaris Fingersmith
Steffan the Skinny
They shall be granted lands and arms in accordance with the terms set upon the commencement of their noble adventure in to the benighted and war-torn territory of Middenland. Let their names be proclaimed as the Twelve that Hunted, the finders and protectors of drachenkind, heroes of Hochland.
For her leadership, strength, and courage in the service of the Grand Baroness the Lady Adalwolfa, Baroness of Esk, shall be made Markgraf of the Middle Mountains. She is charged with the raising of an army for the protection of those residing within the bounds of Hochland's territory and frontier in that selfsame region, be they human or dawi, native or traveler. Any who seek to do harm, tremble.
By Sigmar's hammer, for the glory of Ulric, and with the strength, fidelity and mercy of Taal, Rhya, and Shallya, let this proclamation be blessed in the two thousand two hundred and third year since the ascent of Our Lord Sigmar Heldenhammer.
To Huburt von Ussingern , Grand-Master of the Order of the Fiery Heart
I bid you greetings and my heartfelt thanks for your efforts in the war against the Greenskin Hordes. The heroism of the Fiery Heart can only be found among the greatest of Sigmar's servants and many lives were spared in no small part due to your Order's presence.
Which brings me to my point. It is time to come home. Though I do not doubt the Fiery Heart is needed more than ever as evil stalks the land, it is unfitting that your Chapterhouse within the Temple remains empty, with not even a single knight to guard this most holy of places. If it be that you feel the Order's presence need be maintained beyond the original duties sworn upon your initiation, then surely the Cult can provide what is required? After all, it is written that every good soul with weapon in hand is a victory against Evil.
In truth, I know not how this divide might have occurred, but if it can be mended, it is my duty to see what can be done. After all, is it not our duty as Servants of Him to see us strong and united against a host of monsters that lurk in the dark? And to see us divided can only be considered to the benefit of the enemies of all Mankind.
Letters-patent with the seal of the Country of Stirland will be provided to each prearranged caravan. These letters-patent are to be presented to the magistrates of Stirland and will reiterate that all officials and nobles are to cooperate with you in the removal of the Halflings. As they have been taken into custody and concentrated in the proper towns of the County their safety, and yours, will be guaranteed by the Elector-Countess and Diet.
The removal of the Halfling population from Stirland has been coordinated with Marienburg and their agents, the Strigany caravans answering to Lady Sicriu Pescaruz. It is the will of the Elector-Countess and of the Diet of Noble Estates that their expulsion proceed peacefully and uneventfully. As such I have ordered to be dispatched letters-patent to the Strigany caravans and will extend similar sealed orders to the Knights of the Winter Wolves and to such agents of the haffengilde as will participate.
Holy Mother of Ravens and Sister Superior of the Children of Gretchen Quinella Magus @Maugan Ra
A soul comes to you seeking guidance of Pater Morte.
This land will be mine, in time. When my father walks with the Pater. This vile land, with its swamps and its curses and all its souls. All its twisted and wretched souls and their vile forms and features. Loathsome things worthy only of steel and flame.
That is how many would have me rule. Many who say they speak for Pater Morte. As a scourge and slayer of the altered and abhorrent. To break bread with the ugly, with the man hunters and the man killers, this is a sin, it is a desolation. Slay, slay, and slay again.
I say they lie. I say they lie and they hide their lies in the teeth of the Pater. I say Pater Morte is not the god of Altdorf, "Your limbs are crooked, I will break you with my hammer!" Pater Morte is not the god of Middenheim, "Your skin is marred and pocked, I will tear your throat with my teeth!" Pater Morte looks from His throne and He sees the heart. He sees as we are, not as others see us. And He folds us in the hem of his cloak, "Peace, my child. You will not suffer. You will not starve. You will rest and I will guard you."
I have stood in the great hall of Drakenhopf and I have seen she who ruled there, graven in stone and caught in paints. I have seen lips Myrmidia Herself would be proud to kiss, beauty that made knights and priests hew one another apart for the privilege of feeding her their blood. I have seen the abomination of desolation who severed this land from Pater Morte for all that her face was fair. I have seen.
And those who lie to me, you who tell me that those who are foul of feature are hated by the Pater, that we must drive them away from Him, those who do the Abomination's work and spill themselves before her fair features, as they walk her path I tell them share her fate, I say you begone from me, let your spirit walk upon the Earth till sun and moon alike torment you, till your soul begs for the grave's rest and the grave vomits you up.
That is what I say. But who am I?
I am a soldier. I deal in steel and blood, not prayer and miracle. In stratagem, not prophecy. Who am I to speak for Pater Morte?
The Pater is Lord of the Dead, not the Living, this I know. But from His throne He sees all that will be, and he speaks to His faithful to guide them. And that they may share that guidance with those who beseech them.
As I beseech you. Tell me, Sister. Guide me. Tell me if I have pleased Him or no.
May ravens light upon you,
Carlotta Malasangre, Voivode Primul of De Metzgerhunden and Duchessa of Waldenhof
As Steward of the Diet of Stirland I must tender the thanks of our County for your efforts in helping contain the Ruinous Powers that have overtaken the late Moot. The swift actions of the Knights of the Raven in establishing a cordon around that cursed land has saved countless souls and thwarted any expansion of this disaster. Morr has always been a god accorded great honor in Stirland and I am gratified that our trust in his servants has been completely justified.
Alas I must write to you in request of further aid. The invasion of our lands by Averland and Wissenland has, without belaboring any merely political issues, devastated some of the fairest portions of our land and our defeat scattered some of our best formations. We are accordingly unable to provide as full a defense against this dreadful incursion as it warrants. I have appealed to the Elector-Counts and Cults of the Empire for aid in constructing a series of fortresses at natural chokepoints to hold at bay any invasion of hideous beastmen or other horrors from the former Moot. I have been assured by scouts who have examined the region that three such great citadels will be necessary, but may be positioned such that Men of faith and courage can hold them against the worst terrors of the Ruinous Powers.
As such I beseech you for aid in this project, as I have others. Stirland and the Empire will be grateful for any further aid that you are able to provide. I remain your humble and obedient Servant;
Erherzog Horst von Wolfbach, Steward of the Noble Estates of Stirland, under authority of Elector-Countess Elianna von Haupt-Anderssen, Princess of Wurtbad and etc.
A call for aide is a call answered, as the Winds of the Ruinous Powers risings to a squall once again. Military and monetary assistance will provided, as necessary, when necessary, until this blight can be removed from the lands of man. In order for to provide for us, we must provide for Morr.
The Cult of Morr is a bastion between dead and living, and as you doubtlessly know by the now, the Moot is most certainly dead. Your works to honour those passed are sung in dirges across the Empire, so I have no doubt that the heralds of Morr will soon be making passage to the Moot. I have already been commissioned to bring supplies and evacuation to the people of that border; I invite your acolytes to join our caravans for swiftness and safety.
All that I ask is the weight of your holy word in favour of this caravan-expedition. My people are oft-maligned as graverobbers and blasphemers over sad misunderstandings, a reputation that may impede our relief of the Moot's living victims. I hope to overturn this unfounded repute with good works and faith, yet the vouchsafe of one so respected for his stoic separation from mere politics would be invaluable in this endeavour, and help stem the tide of untimely dead.
All pious answer to Morr, and thus all pious are subjects of Morr. You will be given as much blessing as I can provide in these dark times, and allow those lay-priests as escorts where they are available. I wish you and your kin luck, for in these times we all need it.
To the Custode del Portale Sieghard Eberl @Dadarian
Though the Crusade to reclaim the legacy of the Menogoths and the erasure of the beast Gormar has been successful, it is my deepest regret to say that a great many perished at greenskin hands. I intend to inter all of these heroes at the Garden of Morr at Pfeildorf, and I would be most honoured if you could attend their final passing into the Kindly Realm as these great men and women deserve. Let the Gods remember them for who they were, as holy warriors defending the Empire of Sigmar from its most vile and contemptuous of foes.
By the Grace of Morr, His Imperial & Princely Highness Friedrich von Schwarzburg, Grand Count of the Grand County of Wissenland and Grand Prince of the Grand Principality of Solland, Chieftain of the Merogens, Count of Nuln, Armourer of the Empire and South-Warden, Defender of the Rivers Soll and Echoes, Holy Elector of Sigmar's Empire.
I have been called on urgent business to Sylvania, as a Conclave in being held in regards to the happening within the Moot. Your invitation is kind and measured, and it is more displeasure to not be able to oversee the most somber ceremony. I will provide recompense for my absence, insofar as it can assist in the holiest of acts, the interment of men into the Garden.
S.E
_ _ _
In Nomine Morr Scriptor
To Whom it May Concern
Those pious and righteous among the Strigany are no less followers of Morr than the common man. Let them pass unmolested and in peace.
Burgomaster Arbutus Precipitarious Kalamitus Weber was not a small man. He was, in matter of fact, not even an average man. He was large - nearly spherical - and by all accounts supremely proud of that fact. A large body was, of course, a sign that one was rich, provided for, so far from struggle that the idea of a "food shortage" was laughable. A far cry from most of the civilians in the Slice, and for that matter in Kemperbad itself - the outfits his guild had made themselves kings off of would hardly be popular in Altdorf were they fitted to a frame such as his.
It was, then, somewhat disconcerting to Councilwoman Wagner, a severe and grey-haired woman with the body of a phasmatodea and the face of an isosceles triangle, to see him eating nothing but a few leafs of lettuce and minuscule slices of onion, wiping a few stray flecks of ale (hot ale!?) from his cheeks at the council's table. She placed a few sheaves of paper on the table and took her seat, studiously saying nothing as she stared.
"Ah, Councilwoman Wagner, so nice of you to join me. Early as always, I see." The Burgomaster's chin wobbled as he talked, limp green hanging from his silver fork as he spoke.
"Yes, Burgomaster, I had some reports I wanted to discuss with you prior to the meeting. May I...ask what it is you're eating? This seems very novel for Reikish folk like ourselves." She arched an eyebrow, glancing at the steam rising off of the burgomaster's ale.
"Ah, yes, the meal. I thought I ought to see what most of our new taxpayers eat for their holidays - I must say, it's quite miserable. Rustic charm is one thing, but this is practically like eating fresh vegetables with the dirt still on them." He made a tiny grimace, and took another bite. "I make sacrifices to understand the world beyond, but I can't say I'll be making this one again any time soon. So, what did you want to ask, Councilwoman?"
Weber relaxed slightly, relieved to hear she wasn't dangerously close to a man about to go psychopathic. "Ah, well, I've had the accountants look at our treasury. It's a small thing, but I thought you ought to know - currently our available assets exceed those of every Elector Count in the Empire, aside from Marienburg."
Weber sighed. "Well, you can't win them all. What of Meyer?"
"Meyer as well. It seems his little adventure took quite a hit on his finances."
"Good." He smiled. "I'd like to think our efforts have helped there, but it'll be hard work keeping them closed out for long. Best send some more second children out West, see if we can't marry them off, yes?"
"Mmm. I'm sure the Council will think of something a bit more...professional sounding," Wagner said, "but we'll handle things. Of course, our income is vastly lower than all of theirs, so I wouldn't expect this situation to last long."
"Oh no, oh no, of course not," Weber chortled, wiping a tear (or was it just a bead of sweat from the exertion?) from the corner of his eye. "But it's quite the nice statistic, isn't it? Kemperbad, free-town, the jewel in the eyes of Talabecland, Stirland, and Reikland - but richer than all three! It would be quite nice if we could say that every year. Still, we've come a long way since we got working, haven't we? Those Averlanders and Stirlanders spending all their gold against each other was quite the pretty sight."
Wagner nodded, flipping through another few pages. "Yes, yes, of course. Still, on the topic of Stirland, I wanted to talk about the financial future of the Slice, Burgomaster. It is...quite undeveloped, compared to our own, Reikish land, and it may take some time before we can build it up to the point we can make it financially efficient. We'll have to put a good amount of our treasure into it, and-" She paused, having glanced over to see the Burgomaster shaking his head. Hypnotic, it was, the way his jowls were a half-second out of sync with his face - like watching a wet dog shake its fur. But- yes, there were probably more pressing reasons to give him a chance to speak.
"Councilwoman...do you really think we're going to invest in making that blighted coast equal to Kemperbad? I'm sorry, have I been to vague in the meetings? I'd like to know, I'll have to clear it up when the rest of you convene."
Wagner nodded. "Well...yes, I had assumed so. Wouldn't building them up be the best, in the long-term? Invest in our future growth?"
Weber shook his head again. "Gods, no, my dear Councilwoman. Every coin we sink into that land is going to fall into Stirlish coffers again if all we do is build up. When that Averlander woman dies, do you really think Stirland will hold to the Pfeildorf Pact? That they'll simply sit by and let us keep the land? That Konstantin, Sigmar bless his soul, will care if we keep it? The slice isn't a bucket to fill and bring home, it's a campfire waiting to burn out! All we can do is stoke the flames for as long as we can."
The Councilwoman's brows furrowed. It was a bit like watching two V's turn into a W, the Burgomaster thought, but there were much more important reasons to let her speak. "Well...look, Arbutus. If investing is a waste, why did we even take the land in the first place? What's the point of spending money and tossing it into this hole? Unless...oh!" Her eyes gleamed, and it was a gleam any Reiklander who lived near power would know. Shining like fool's gold, sparkling like an acid spring - it was the gleam of a Bad Idea. "I see. Yes, the Council will love this."
Weber nodded. "Oh yes, it's wonderful. We stoke the fire, cook as many roasts on it while we can, and then-" He sweeps his hands out up into the air, accidentally knocking over his mug. Hot ale splashed all over the lacquered tabletop, spilling onto the floor. Councilwoman Wagner looked from the quickly growing pool to the Burgomaster.
"Ah...heh. Oops. I will, uh-I'll call the maids in, postpone the meeting by half an hour. My apologies, Councilwoman." He smiled sheepishly, too large to flee the scene. "Why don't you get some lunch from my chef? He was rather disappointed today."
Phillip had whiled away countless hours here of course, as all Alchemists have. Now it's halls are more memory then stone to him, here the cranny where he hid from his wretched mathematical tutor as a child, there the shelves he and his closest friends plotted shared vengeance as they slaved away transcribing the dull and dreary volumes of centuries past, there the alcove where he and his sweet Francis struck and clawed at each other with all their pudgy scholastic might over some long forgotten pettiness... and there, the great ledger Phillip afixt his name to with his masterwork on the aetherial properties of magnetic lodestone. A great behemoth of a codex which on its lead plates so carefully rendered inert and preserved held the names of every full member of the Alchemist Guild since time immemorial. To Phillip's normally quite piercing Sight the codex seemed almost completely dead, an absence of a space rather than anything truly existent, and only by the trick of looking at it without looking his masters taught him does he see the aetheric slivers so barely discernible against the metal tablets. Lead was the basest of all metals, the cousin to the raw prime material of the cosmos itself, and contained all the elements in their multitudes that so utterly disdained any of the delicate workings of alchemy that did not reflect each and every one of those multitudes. Before his eyes was an project of many lifetimes, a permanent enchantment that had so successfully woven itself into its alloyed metal that there appeared no seem between the physical and metaphysical, a space that rebuffed even the ambient energy of mundane objects. The only time Phillip has ever seen the Great Register react is the awkward application of the sympathetic inks and elixirs that forced it to mold itself in the form of the new Alchemist's name.
He approached it now, quietly admiring the gleaming emerald sheen of his unnumbered peers while he could. Strange, the twists and turns of life were, and here Phillip found them all out for display from birth to death; Chaotic corruptions and Flagellant epiphanies, whippings as fraudulent mountebanks and dubbings of honorary knighthoods, banishments to the Imperial College of Engineers and elopements with a paramour to the Grocer's Guild. Somehow it comforted him more then any reasoned recitation on what the odds were of his impassioned plea. He shook his head and dismissed the thoughts of his ill-conceived notion. As all alchemists knew, any mistake that did not blow you to smithereens was only a lesson to inform your next efforts, not a distraction from the Great Work. With that Phillip picked up the elixir-dipped stylus and began what in all likelihood was a new ill-conceived notion.
Frau Doktorin SOPHIA BRAHE, Doktorin of the Mechanishe Künste, Adeptmiesterin of the Teutogenkries, Kanzlerin of the Alchemistgilde, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Herr Doktor HENNIG BRAND, Doktor of the Freie Künste, Adeptmiester of the Jutonekries, Treßler of the Alchemistgilde, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Herr Doktor JOHANN KUNCKEL, Doktor of the Mechanishe Künste, Adeptmiester of the Talutenkries, Trappier of the Alchemistgilde, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Frau KRISTINA AUGUSTA, Lizenzieren of the Mechanishe Künste, Freier Miesterin of the Jutonenkries, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Herr ARNAULD DE VILLE-NEUVE, Schuler of the Freie Künste, Altgeselle of the Teutogenkries, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Junge FREDERICK CLOD, Lehring of the Frau Doktorin Sophia Brahe, BY DULY APPOINTED GUILDMASTER BANISHED AND PROSCRIBED FROM THE ORDER FOR FAILURE TO PERFORM CONDUCT BEFITTING AN ALCHEMIST
Funny thing about that grand old Register, it was literally the Register, the one created to fulfill the mandate of the now-lost original issue of the Charter of the Alchemist Guild, as all Guilds were so required to maintain rolls to Middenheim's satisfaction. The Alchemists simply took the words "permanent record" more literally is all. All those documents filed in the High Temple of Verena and the Middenheim Court of Aldermen and the world at large are each and every one technically private copies from the one legal roll of all legal members of the Guild of Alchemists. A Guild that now legally consists of one Herr Doktor Phillip von Hohenheim, interim holder of every Guild office and quorum of every official Guild session.
To the August Grand Theogonist of the Cult of Sigmar, Wenzel Kraft
I am pleased beyond measure to receive your message, for a humble servant of Sigmar I am and to do His Mission is my first and foremost duty; to strengthen the Empire, to oppose the forces of destruction at every turn, and to aid the Dawi of the mountains as they have aided us since the dawn of our age.
I am gladdened to know that the Grand Cathedral remains open to mine Order, and would gladly take measures to bridge the gap between our institutions. Indeed, the Order of the Fiery Heart has served the Sigmarite Church for centuries!
Which, sadly, brings me to my refusal. I am a humble man. I have fought, bled and slaughtered in the name of Sigmar for decades. And I find myself feeling weary. Has the Empire not stood divided for too long? Have we not stood at each other's throats, sword in hand and knives behind our backs, while the enemies of man sharpen their steak knives for their opportunity? We are only years from the Vampire War, where undead abominations nearly conquered our lands, and already we wage more war against our own than against true enemies. Why do we fight amongst ourselves, when we have enemies enough to busy ourselves, wet our blades, test our martial might?
I care not for accolades or honours or battle scars... no more than the norm, that is; glory in battle is glory for Sigmar, after all! But my service, first and always, will always be to Sigmar and His Empire. I am but a knight, with lance and sword and horse to my name, and the fortune and blessing to lead others under the same colours. I can only do a little for the Empire. But every little counts, wouldn't you agree, Grand Theogonist?
So I will not be returning to Altdorf, and my Chapter shall not darken the halls of the Cathedral until the Enemies of Man, chief amongst them the greenskins, are purged from these lands, and our allies of the mountains are once more tolerant of our transgressions. It is a shame on my Order, I have no doubt. But I shall seek to absolve myself of it in orc blood; I heartily recommend others to try the same.
Trouble is, as ever, afoot, Grand Theogonist. Might we meet under better tidings, when the Electors of the Empire stand united in purpose instead of divided by pride and self-interest.
Glory to Sigmar! May the Heldenhammer bless us all.
Sigmar's Humble Servant,
Grand-Master Hubert von Ussingen of the Order of the Fiery Heart, Templar Knights of the Heldenhammer and Executors of His Divine Will
Treachery is, one might argue, part and parcel for the Drakwald. Since the dissolution of the province, the Drakwalders have shifted their allegiance countless times, siding with Altdorf or Middenheim as the mood took them, ever in pursuit of the status quo that best suited the 'wald. Henryk von Bildhofen's most recent actions, then, might be considered par the course for what Duke of Carroburg hasn't stabbed their liege lord in the back at one point or another, either in the name of ambition or self-preservation. If there is anything unique about the young Duke's decision, it is that he is the first in some time to come close to that age old dream of restoring the Province of Drakwald with the Grand Prince of Reikland elevating Henryk to the Duchy of Drakwald following the death of Konrad von Schild and the secession of Carroburg from Middenland. A promotion which quite arguably places him closer to achieving his family's ambitions than even those Dukes who once ruled over all of Western Middenland, back in those heady days when the Emperors ruled from Altdorf and the Drakwald Runefang first came into the von Bildhofens' hands.s
Yet this victory has not come without it's cost. Duke Henryk would be grievously injured in his duel against Konrad von Schild, his face forever marred by the Middenland Runefang, and left bedridden for some months as the Alchemists tend to his injuries, working their fell magicks to ensure his recovery. Throughout Carroburg and the Drakwald, many a wife would left widowed, many a child orphaned, as the losses from the Battle of Carroburg were tallied and the true extent of the price of that hard fought victory were made apparent. Even the city itself would bear the weight of the victory, the economy having slowed after a costly blockade and the preparations made in the name of defending her having exacted a heavy toll on the Duke's coffers.
But even this is not the worst thing to have occurred as a consequence of the 'wald's restoration.
Arriving months after the Battle of Carroburg, the once estranged cousins of the Duke would come. Newly in favour due to their faith - and later due to being direct subjects of the man the South would dare to name Emperor - the Nulner von Biildhofens would make their return to Carroburg with Magnus von Bildhofen, once mockingly called the Absent, at the fore. Clad in the red and black of Carroburg and with a fair number of Nulner mercenaries in tow, Magnus would arrive in Carroburg to a grim welcome, all too aware of the fact his return was neither desired nor wanted. Not that, it must be said, Magnus cared much for the desires of his kith for insofar as he was concerned, the brutish monsters that cast him out once could go burn in the Warp or, failing that, be cursed to live in the Drakwald for all their days.
Either one, after all, was a fate worse than death, even if he deeply loved his homeland deep down in his aging heart.
In the days that followed their return, the Nulner von Bildhofens and the Carroburg von Bildhofens would negotiate the terms of their reconciliation. In a task of herculean proportions, the two branches would hammer out the terms of their reconciliation, Elizabeth von Eslohe - who had taken over yet more of the responsilities of rule whilst Henryk recovered, Magnus' eldest son, Johann, taking the lead in the negotiations. Titles would be bandied about before being dragged out back and murdered, promises of recompense made and broken in a single breath, and pacts and contracts offered by men who were as trustworthy as an Elf. When at long last, Henryk and Magnus emerged from the Duke's palace and embraced one another as brothers, a reconciliation finally forged between them, it would be at the cost of a tenuous and unwanted peace between Carroburg and Nuln.
Still yet unwed, Henryk would name his nephew, Johann, as his immediate heir and accord to him the Barony of Mirrormere in the Mirror Moors as proof of the solidity of the newly forged bond between the two halves of the von Bildhofens. Magnus himself would be accorded a stipend from the Duchy and granted a mansion within Carroburg - to be built using his own money, of course - and his marriage to Brunhilde of Nuln finally recognised by the Duchy. The twins, Magnus and Magna, would be accorded places within the 1st Drakwald Regulars as officers and Magnus the Younger promised to a Drakwalder of good birth to re-tie the Nulners to their ancestral home. Beyond this, the Nulner von Bildhofens would promise to use their respectable fortune to the Duchy, first and foremost by buying it friends in Nuln, the Cult of Sigmar would be accorded a new temple in Carroburg when funds permitted alongside a temple to Morr, whilst Theodric von Bildhofen, ever the mercenary, would be given first pick at any contracts the Duchy might have to offer.
Thus, with nobody truly happy, the von Bildhofens would march forward into the future, daggers in hand, hands to back, and smiles upon their faces.
Order of the Black Rose Chapterhouse, By the Banks of the Talastamm Tributary, Not Far from Talabheim
Dour. Solemn. Quiet. Gloomy.
What else do men imagine when they think of the black clad followers of Morr? Serious, stony faced men and women, who care only about corpses, whether they're in the ground or walking about. Certainly, when I was young, the idea they could even comprehend joy would have confused me. But then, it's not like I'd ever seen them away from a funeral. And we of the Order of the Black Rose? Well, we certainly weren't the solemn knights of the raven.
"To Leopoldine!" Came the cheers, the clatter of glasses and clink of dishes as dozens of my fellow knights raised their drinks to the sky. Some young, some old, all bearing the hard muscles and broad shoulders of a warrior, and if perhaps a few of the logisticians had gained a little fat around their frames, I wasn't going to begrudge them. I raised my cup with them, though I choked as I added my voice to the cry
The grand hall of the Order of the Black Rose's chapterhouse on the Talabec river was anything but joyless. It was alive with the noise of brothers and sisters in arms, the din of conversation and the lively roaring of the great fireplaces that kept the room comfortable. Troubadours sand and played music as servants carried dishes to and fro. The old oak tables that ran the length of the room practically groaned under the weight of the plates heaped across them, steeped high with brown bread, Tilean cheese, Arabyan figs and dates, and fresh game seasoned with spices imported from Araby and beyond. They'd even broken out the saffron tonight, a luxury even we of the Order of the Black Rose could only occasionally afford.
But for all the good cheer, there was a sour note. All of this was to celebrate the woman at my right, Lady Leopoldine von Meyer, soon to be former Grandmaster of the Order of the Black Rose. And to celebrate my rise to the position, I suppose.
"Does the boar not agree with you, Wilhelm?" She asked, sticking me with those same knowing eyes that I had first seen beneath the visor of an enemy's helmet. "You've hardly touched it."
I met her gaze, drawing my lips into a thin smile. "Perhaps a touch rich for my tastes, milady. Why indeed, I find myself nostalgic for the traditional dinner of my youth: Stale hardtack and freshly scavenged horse haunch, hardly burnt," I said in the same breath I took a sip of the rich Bordeleaux red in my grip.
She laughed and leaned back in her seat, stabbing her knife through a length of boar. It was a slower, stiffer movement than I remembered, but perhaps I imagined it. But the wrinkles, and graying hair, that I know I didn't imagine. "Perhaps Sir Goldreich did hit you too hard in the melee after all."
I wrinkled my nose, glancing at the burly Nordland nobleman down the table. The other man grinned, showing off his finely made, ivory teeth. I spoke, loud enough to hear. "Eh, he's a right bastard with that greatsword of his, but I still put him his bloody arse." The words were coarse, vulgar, and something that I'd long learned to keep to myself in a more austere company. But old habits learned among sellswords and robber-knights died hard. And what was a bit of vulgarity among comrades?
The man waved his flagon at me. "Always next time, Wilhelm!"
"I think your arse will break before my head does," I replied, returning the gesture with my own glass.
Leopoldine shook her head, but a wry smile was on her lips. "All the time, Wilhelm, you remind of that saying. Date the daughter, meet the father. Maybe that's why you won't crack a smile. A real smile," she said as I opened my mouth to protest.
I shrugged. "Well, He did send me here, after one visit too many to His Shallya. Morr works in mysterious ways," I said, but the humor drained away. I sighed. She was right. I was being the dour, gloomy, sort people always imagined Morrites to be. Well, maybe not quite as quiet as that, but still.
"You're not nervous about being Grandmaster," she said. It was a statement, not a question. She knew me too well for that. "Most other men might be. But not you."
"A little greed and ambition never hurt anyone," I said. Just ask any Handrich cultist. Though, mayhaps not the Shallyans, after that ugly business with the Joanites. "You deserve more, is all."
I speared a chunk of boar, taking a bit out of it. But I didn't have the appetite for it. She looked at me for a moment, picking up a fig in her haggard hands. "Fear not death, Wilhelm. That doesn't just mean a death in battle. Doesn't matter if it's glorious, or in your sleep. Or even if it's the bloody flux."
"Shit, and I thought myself vulgar," I replied with a shudder that wasn't exaggerated in the slightest. Ugly way to die I'd seen too much on the march. Still, I inclined my head to her. "I understand. The garden awaits."
"And I could use the rest. I've done my fair share of lance charges and dinners with nobles. Someone young, strapping, and with a brain addled by too many blows to the head can do it. Now smile already. It's our party, and there's plenty yet to come."
I shook my head at that, taking a sip of the Bordeleaux red. But it didn't quite hide my smile. Oh, but I would miss that old woman. I would miss following her into the fray, miss our conversations about politics over wine, our duels that had only recently started going in my favor. But I would lead the Order to new heights. The prestige, the honor, the glory. These were things I had once cared nothing for. Now? They were what I lived for. Morr always stood ahead: With prophecies and with the scythe, He laid out our futures. I would not mourn what had to come to pass, but look instead to the future.
Down the table, I saw Sir Blucher stand up, raising a goblet into the air. "A toast to Wilhelm von Kilner! To the new Grandmaster! The most fearless man I have ever known!"
Down the tables, men and women raised their goblets, many standing tall. Something caught in my throat as I met the eyes of these knights, my brothers and sisters. Leopoldine was the last to stand, riding slowly and carefully to her feet.
And as the cheers raised to the ceiling, I smiled wide and raised my glass. "To the Order of the Black Rose! We are the Knights of Princes and Emperors, and warriors of Morr! " @triumph8w
Article:
Hail Grandmaster Herman of the High and Chivalric Order of Deserved Rest,
May ravens alight upon you. It is with great sorrow that I write this to inform you that my predecessor, the honorable Lady Leopoldine von Meyer, has retired to her family manse due to her advancing years. She leaves the care of the most noble Order of the Black Rose in my care, and her affairs have thus fallen to me.
It is my understanding she was in some correspondence with you these past few years and indeed, she asked me to send you her regards. I hope to maintain a line of communication between our Orders. Though we are not Templars such as you, the Knights of the Black Rose have the utmost respect for your Order. It is for this reason and our shared love for Morr that I wish to extend an offer of aid to your brotherhood. Forgive me if it is presumptuous, but your last letters spoke of a haunting in Carroburg, and with how stretched your Order has been as late, I wished to offer the assistance of several lances of my knights to aid you in exorcising the spirit.
I shall not pretend my knights possess anywhere near the expertise your Order does, but we know the prayers and the rites, and the man in charge, Sir German von Bucher, has some experience with the restless dead including helping put a vampire to rest several years ago. Perhaps of greater importance, he is an uncle to one of the Captains of the Carroburg Watch, which may help open up some doors.
Additionally, I have given thought to sending forth some of my knights to aid in the defense against the horror that has become the Moot. Stirland was the birthplace of our Order, and though we have faced Stirland in battle many a time since those days, we would not have it despoiled by unholy beasts. Nor would I see Averland, the state of my birth, so ruined. Alas, we have no Chapterhouse there to support our efforts. Given it is my understanding that some of your Knights will be deploying there, perhaps we could coordinate our efforts?
Fear Not Death,
Grandmaster Wilhelm von Kilner of the Order of the Black Rose
To the Esteemed Grand Duchess Astrid Hilma Nina Ortud Julia Karen von Wolfenburg, Elector-Countess of Ostland, Protector of the Eastern Reaches, Hetdam of the Udoses,
Your grace, I wish to inform you that the Grandmaster of the chivalric Order of the Black Rose, the venerable Lady Leopoldine von Meyer, has chosen to retire to her family manse due to her advancing years and declining health. Morr, it seems, has decided against taking her upon the field of battle. In her stead, she leaves the care of the Knights of the Black Rose in my hands. I will not boast of my talents, but I will state that I have served with honors in the Order of the Black Rose for many years as a Captain and Castellan, and before I joined the Order I served as a successful freelance knight and commander of men. My history, I pray, will say more than words alone can.
As such, I wished to reassure you that our commitments to your province have not changed and that we will continue to maintain a Chapterhouse in Ostland and offer our lances to your cause and your defense.
It is partially in regard to said defense that I write to you. Though they were long our rivals, the fate of the Knights of Sigmar's Blood was in equal parts disheartening and concerning. To see our ancient rivals humbled so thoroughly is something I take no joy in, but it is a warning well learned. Unlike them, I have no intention of delving into that dread forest in search of vainglory, but I would seek your permission to perform some patrols around the outskirts of that territory for two reasons. Firstly, I would be sure the evils our poor foolish rivals stirred up have gone back to their slumber, and that any dregs that have thusly wandered beyond the forest's confines are dealt with. Secondly, after the rather disconcerting presentation of what happened to the Knights of Sigmar's Blood, a show of force by Morrite Knights may help reassure the population that they are safe even if they are, in all likelihood, not safe in the slightest.
I pray that with that done, we can put this sordid episode wholly behind us and focus on temporal matters. Matters such as Kislev, and the south, and how the Order may be of service to you, your grace.
With all sincerity,
Wilhelm von Kilner, Grandmaster of the Order of the Black Rose
The letter, when it comes, does not come from the grand duchess itself. It comes from her chancellor, Graf Esme von Pawel, a ferocious grey-haired woman who has served three generations of the von Wolfenburgs - and who, it is said, is somewhat exasperated by her new erratic grand duchess who spends a fortune on weapons from Nuln and who flirts with Bretonnian dukes.
Article:
My lord von Kilner,
I am sad to hear that the lady von Meyer has found it necessary to retire to due advancing years. She and I were good friends for many years, and though we have grown more distant, it is always sad to face reminders that we always advance closer to your lord's garden. If you see her, please commend me to her; I will write, too, but I do not know how long it will take for such a letter to get to her estate at this time of year.
However, I greet and welcome you as the new grandmaster of your reputed and honourable order. I hope that the knights of the Black Rose and the nation of Ostland will work as well together as we have in the past. Grand Duchess Astrid is currently away from Wolfenburg, but when she returns I am sure she will send her own greetings to you in your new role.
That one of the lords of the undead could defeat so much of a knightly order is of great concern to us all. That ancient forest is like a sorcerer's attic; full of ancient forgotten horrors. Your proposition that your knights patrol the borders of the Forest of Shadows is much appreciated. Perhaps, if any of those poor fools of Sigmar's Blood do return from the grave enslaved by darkness to ride out of its depths and raid the peasantry, you might be able to free some of their souls from the enslavement of undeath and permit them to pass to Morr's Garden. Even if they do not make themselves known, I am sure that the common folk will feel safer in the knowledge that your brave order is close.
Before you go on patrol, you might wish to send some men to Wolfenburg, where I will be able to brief them on areas where wicked things have been seen recently.
Yours sincerely,
Graf Esme von Pawel, Chancellor of Ostland
speaking with the authority of her grace,
Grand Duchess Astrid von Wolfenburg
I share your sorrow at milady's departure. She has been a great leader and close friend for these many years, and without her, I would not be the knight I am today. In truth, a quiet retirement is not the end I had ever imagined for her. Nonetheless, her ladyship is content with the path laid out before her. As she would wish to reassure you, we Knights of the Black Rose fear not death.
I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lord von Pawel. Her ladyship spoke of you fondly on several occasions, though alas, never in great detail. I will pass on your regards to her, which I have no doubt she will appreciate.
Onto darker matters, despite their recent foolishness, the Knights of Sigmar's Blood were among the few able to offer our Order much challenge. No honorable opponent deserves such a fate as they suffered, and if they come against us, I will thank Morr for the chance to lay them to their well-deserved rest. In truth, I fear whatever malign force drives them may seek out such confrontation, given its apparent sense of melodrama. But if not, then at least the people will know that they are not defenseless.
We will, of course, accept your gracious offer. The Order of the Black Rose has always preferred to operate with the support of its allies, after all. Indeed, I may be able to attend in person, as I am heading north to inspect our northern Chapterhouse and direct the patrol efforts.
With all sincerity,
Wilhelm von Kilner, Grandmaster of the Order of the Black Rose
To the Esteemed Grand Duchess Brigitte II, Empress-Ottilian, Elector-Countess of Talabecland, Beloved of Taal, Margrave of the East March,
Your grace, I write this to make you aware that the Grandmaster of the Order of the Black Rose, Lady Leopoldine von Meyer, has elected to retire to her family home due to her declining health in her old age. She has chosen me to serve in her stead as Grandmaster of the Order. I suspect you will be familiar with me, for I have spent many years in your land as an officer of the Order and a leader of men before I took the Black Rose.
Our Order has long had a long and proud history with your line. In the early days of the Age of Three Emperors, we served as the bodyguard for your ancestor, Empress Ottilia, and in her defense brought an end to the Stirland Prince's efforts to invade Talaecland. Though those days have long passed and we now serve the Grand Duchess of Ostland, so long as our ancestral Chapterhouse remains in your lands I reaffirm that the Order of the Black Rose offers its lances to the defense of Talabecland and the line of Ottilia, long may it reign.
It is my understanding that after the unfortunate incident with the dragon, your armies are much reduced. As a demonstration of our support for the Beloved of Taal, I offer a Chapter of my Knights to lend their support where your forces have been spread thin. Let the beasts and outlaws of the Great Forest learn that even now, Talabecland is no safe haven for them. I am certain that your lords and people will be gracious for the protection in these dark times.
Gods Bless,
Wilhelm von Kilner, Grandmaster of the Order of the Black Rose
Hail Grandmaster Herman of the High and Chivalric Order of Deserved Rest,
May ravens alight upon you. It is with great sorrow that I write this to inform you that my predecessor, the honorable Lady Leopoldine von Meyer, has retired to her family manse due to her advancing years. She leaves the care of the most noble Order of the Black Rose in my care, and her affairs have thus fallen to me.
It is my understanding she was in some correspondence with you these past few years and indeed, she asked me to send you her regards. I hope to maintain a line of communication between our Orders. Though we are not Templars such as you, the Knights of the Black Rose have the utmost respect for your Order. It is for this reason and our shared love for Morr that I wish to extend an offer of aid to your brotherhood. Forgive me if it is presumptuous, but your last letters spoke of a haunting in Carroburg, and with how stretched your Order has been as late, I wished to offer the assistance of several lances of my knights to aid you in exorcising the spirit.
I shall not pretend my knights possess anywhere near the expertise your Order does, but we know the prayers and the rites, and the man in charge, Sir German von Bucher, has some experience with the restless dead including helping put a vampire to rest several years ago. Perhaps of greater importance, he is an uncle to one of the Captains of the Carroburg Watch, which may help open up some doors.
Additionally, I have given thought to sending forth some of my knights to aid in the defense against the horror that has become the Moot. Stirland was the birthplace of our Order, and though we have faced Stirland in battle many a time since those days, we would not have it despoiled by unholy beasts. Nor would I see Averland, the state of my birth, so ruined. Alas, we have no Chapterhouse there to support our efforts. Given it is my understanding that some of your Knights will be deploying there, perhaps we could coordinate our efforts?
Fear Not Death,
Grandmaster Wilhelm von Kilner of the Order of the Black Rose
Lady Leopoldine had informed me in her previous letter of her desire to retire, it is good to see her take the rest she deserves, even if I know she'll begin to needle me to do the same. Her regards are well taken, as is the official notice of her retirement. More than that your offer of assistance is most welcome, your men know enough of the ways of combating the undead to not be in the way. I know Sir German well enough, perhaps a bit to prone to jokes for my taste, but I feel confident knowing that he will be leading the men you will send.
My order has enough room in its chapterhouse in Stirland that we will be able to host you for a year or two, enough time for the Elector-Counts and the High priests to effect their fortresses. I must say it does my old soul well to see the Black Rose take more of an interest in Morrs work, Leopoldine regaled me more often of tales of gallantry and combat against man, orc, and other foul creatures besides more then she has of the unquiet dead. The position of Grandmaster, as I have come to learn, is not an easy one. But if what Leopoldine has told me of you is true, then I have no doubts you will adjust to it well.
May Ravens Alight upon you. Grandmaster Herman of The high and Chivialric order of Deserved Rest.
The members of the Black League have hereby voted unanimously to grant Karak Kadrin the title of Observer to the Black League, and bestowed the rights and duties as expressed in the Treaty of Wolfenburg.
Signed at Gruyden,
Grand Baroness Jana von Moltke, First Speaker of the Black League, of Nordland
Ambassador Elene von Gotha,
representing Grand Duchess Astrid von Wolfenburg, of Ostland
Ambassador Christoff Arnzollern,
representing Chancellor Frederick von Shaffernorscht, of Ostermark
Grand Baroness Theophaneia Ysmay Gloriana Hochen, of Hochland
Lady Leopoldine had informed me in her previous letter of her desire to retire, it is good to see her take the rest she deserves, even if I know she'll begin to needle me to do the same. Her regards are well taken, as is the official notice of her retirement. More than that your offer of assistance is most welcome, your men know enough of the ways of combating the undead to not be in the way. I know Sir German well enough, perhaps a bit to prone to jokes for my taste, but I feel confident knowing that he will be leading the men you will send.
My order has enough room in its chapterhouse in Stirland that we will be able to host you for a year or two, enough time for the Elector-Counts and the High priests to effect their fortresses. I must say it does my old soul well to see the Black Rose take more of an interest in Morrs work, Leopoldine regaled me more often of tales of gallantry and combat against man, orc, and other foul creatures besides more then she has of the unquiet dead. The position of Grandmaster, as I have come to learn, is not an easy one. But if what Leopoldine has told me of you is true, then I have no doubts you will adjust to it well.
May Ravens Alight upon you. Grandmaster Herman of The high and Chivialric order of Deserved Rest.
Hail Grandmaster Herman of the High and Chivalric Order of Deserved Rest,
Oh, I am certain Lady Leopoldine will write you frequently and needle you ferociously to join her in retirement. I would never imply it was out of boredom or envy. Certainly not.
I am glad you share my confidence in Sir German. He has a knack for wit, I will not deny, but I suspect that will see you in good stead during your time in Carroburg. In my experience, a friendly gesture can go a long way. In any case, there are few men I would trust more in dealing with the unquiet dead.
I have the utmost respect for the work done by the Order of Deserved Rest, and I am glad to have my Order make its own contributions to laying the dead to rest. I am honored to offer you assistance in putting the haunting of Carroburg to an end, and at having a chance to face the undead of the Forest of Shadows. But ultimately, the living have always been our foe of choice, whether the unclean beast or our honorable foes in rival Knightly Orders. It is our honor to serve at the behest of the lords and ladies of the Empire, and demonstrate to them that death is not something to be feared or hated. Yours is a noble calling, and I respect you deeply for it and the courage it takes to meet such horrors so routinely, but alas, ours is a separate path.
In any case, the Elector-Countess of Talabec has given my Order leave to deplete the garrison of our Chapterhouse there to come to your support. A Chapter of the Knights of the Black Rose will offer their lances to aid in the defense of the Moot, so long as you are able to house them. It would be our great honor to face the creatures of Chaos side by side with the Knights of the Raven.
I thank you for your kind words. The duty of being Grandmaster will be a difficult one, but it is a challenge I am eager to face. I am ever open to any wisdom you may have.
Fear Not Death,
Grandmaster Wilhelm von Kilner of the Order of the Black Rose
A Moot Point, Part 1
(Written by @EarthScorpion with my approval)
Article:
"The expulsion of the halflings from Stirland was entirely expected. Stirland had only barely tolerated the presence of the Moot. With the humiliation of Stirland at the hands of Averland, something like this was a good way for Horst von Wolfbach to solidify his support from Stirlander peasants and nobility alike.
"However, with such a storm unleashed, it was much harder to channel it. In many regions of Stirland, the magistrates ignored their orders and turned a blind eye to violence against the halflings. The winter of 2202-2203 was a particularly cold one close to the World's Edge Mountains, and food was short from both the destruction of the Moot and the touch of chaos upon the harvest.
"Sebastian Koch's mid-century studies of eastern Stirland tell a bleak tale of the events of early 2203. As can be seen from Table 7, in some villages, none of the halfling population from the last census remained when it came to the evacuation. However, population studies in Stirland during the Crisis are notoriously difficult, as the war with Averland produces extensive movements within the country. Tragically, some of the 'missing' halfling population may well have fled to the Moot to escape the War of the Stirlish Succession. Others likely left Stirland in late 2202, aware of which way the winds were blowing.
"The case of Hirm, in eastern Stirland, is particularly interesting. By all accounts only a single halfling family was resident in that location, but despite its location close to the Mootish borders, the peasants of that village seem to have seen the Greyriver halfling family as 'their' halflings. Koch believes it was due to their poverty - the family worked as day labourers for richer peasants in the region, and thus the local peasants had nothing to gain from their deaths. In among the violence of the region, the Greyrivers made it to the convoy all alive. Koch reports that his agents were even asked by elderly peasants if they had any news of the Greyrivers. However, it is also known that peasants from Hirm engaged in lynchings in nearby Pinkafeld, which saw massive, widespread violence. Edelstal, by contrast, despite a similar-sized population saw no survivors - and that was likely linked to the fact that both halfling households had been prosperous landowners employing local peasants.
"Regardless of anomalies like Hirm, such statistics make clear that by and large, the settlements with larger halfling populations faired better. Such places were easier to bring under the authority of the Stirlish government, and the increased interest of the state in ensuring it gained control over the confiscated halfling lands ironically protected those who it was confiscated from. In more rural areas, lynch mobs and motivated expulsions were carried out by those who wanted to gain the land previously held by halflings."
Table 7 - Halfling population statistics from villages in Eastern Stirland during the early Crisis (Koch 2241)
Village
Halfling population in the 2200 census
Halfling population in early 2202 (estimated from temple records)
Halflings recording village as origin in convoy census (early 2203)
Antau
7 households: 21 males, 19 females
8h: 19m, 20f
13m, 17f
Edelstal
2h: 5m, 7f
1h: 3m, 4f
0
Großmürbisch
9h: 28m, 29f
7h: 25m, 24f
26m, 27f
Hirm
1h: 2m, 3f
1h: 2m, 4f
2m, 4f
Pinkafeld
15h: 43m, 47f
15h: 44m, 46f
0
Villach
23h, 58m, 67f
22h, 57m, 69f
54m, 62f
Christoff Sauer, "Close to the World's Edge: The Eastern Lands of Sigmar During the Crisis"
Article:
"Fecking halflings had it coming. I remember 'em coming over the border, all lordly like, buying out the land and acting all snooty. Then they go an' consort with devilry and here they are, cryin' when it bites them. I tell you, exile's too good for them. Summon' oughta do something about that."
Albrecht Hansson, Stirland peasant
Article:
"This was the state of affairs in Stirland by the time the snow started to melt - large halfling refugee camps had risen up like mushrooms close to the rivers Stir and Aver, huddling near to where their promised escape would be, crude structures of green wood and canvas that were lousy with disease and entirely inadequate for the cold weather. However, the presence of the Knights of the White Wolf ensured those wretched few places were kept safe - at least physically. By spring, these camps were rife with dysentery and cholera. The gentry of the halflings were vocal in their distaste for the conditions, but such a state of affairs was only natural given the foetid mess they had made of their own homeland.
"Moreover, the violence between the brutish Knights of the White Wolf and the local Stirlanders had risen precipitously. The savage Ulrican knights tended to respond to posturing peasants with insults, and thrown stones with skull-smashing. The steward of Stirland found his plates full with demands from the landed gentry and nobility for the righteous punishment of a number of White Wolves who had taken it upon themselves to hunt down and murder Stirlish landowners. The peasantry in the area grew equally sullen, as a number of over-vigilant interventions by the knights rose Stirlish blood against arrogant, violent northern invaders."
Samuel von Messer, "Stirland's Humilation - the Years of Shame"
Article:
"It was a great relief to everyone when the ships started to empty out the camps. In a feat of supreme irony, the presence of the Strigany actually reduced the rate of violence against halflings. The rural Stirlanders falsely believed that the Strigany were child-snatchers, which has always been one of the most pernicious slanders. Given the small statute of the halflings, it was clear to those uneducated folks that the Strigany were here to steal away the halflings. When the halflings began leaving in Strigany caravans, those beliefs were confirmed and the peasantry became happier to sit back and let the disliked travellers rid them of the hated halflings.
"Still, even if peasants spat at them and looked away for fear of the evil eye, at least the Strigany actions in Stirland were going better than the efforts in Averland."
Sani Pasha, "A History of the Strigany People"
Article:
WAR IN AVERLAND!
SHOCK NEWS AS AVERLAND INVADED BY OGRES
TALES REPORT MASS DEATH, DESTRUCTION
WINE FUTURES PRICES SKYROCKET
WITNESSES REPORT LONINGBRUCK SACKED
Nuln Gazetter, 13 Jahrdrung
Article:
BLOODSHED CONTINUES IN AVERLAND
EYEWITNESSES REPORT BUTCHERY OF AVERLAND CAVALRY
RAMPAGING OGRE HORDE BACKED UP BY MERCENARIES
SCENES OF UNTOLD CALAMITY IN HEIDRECK - IS NULN SAFE?
LONINGBRUCK MAY NOT HAVE BEEN SACKED, STILL UNCONFIRMED
Nuln Gazetter, 18 Jahrdrung
Article:
WHEN WILL THE COUNT ACT, ASKS CROWD
GROWING DANGER TO OUR FAIR CITY
HALFLINGS MAY BE BEHIND INVASION OF AVERLAND
PERIL GROWS DAILY
RUMOURS OF MASSACRE IN HEIDRECK 'CALLED INTO QUESTION'
Nuln Gazetter, 27 Jahrdrung
Article:
"While those of us with the advantage of hindsight realise that the early 2203 events in Averland was not an invasion, such things were not so clear at the time. Wild rumours criss-crossed the south of the lands of Sigmar, with all of Nuln in a tizzy. With typical Averlandish foolishness, Count Francis von Ellinbach had taken no actions to avoid or mitigate the presence of a massive convoy of ogres, caravaners and mercenaries entering through Black Fire Pass. It is perhaps a small mercy that they were even permitted through. Or perhaps that was where the disaster started.
"Put simply, the former Great Ivory Road Caravan was of a scale comparable to an army, and it had an army's impact on the countryside. Grief-maddened halflings did not care for Averlandish sensibilities when they sent their horse-swift ogre servants to search for any surviving relatives. In places where pogroms had occurred or halflings had been driven from their land, the vengeance of the halflings was swift and bloody.
"If it had stayed at that, it might have been enough. But the sheer size of the caravan, combined with the collosal number of livestock it drove with it, caused calamity in Averland. The herds stripped bare the first spring growths in any region they passed through, crushing fields and disrupting planting season. The insulting manner in which they tossed coins - 'for troubles caused' - made the situation worse. The ogres engaged in widespread cattle rustling in Averland's famed herds, adding their cattle to the caravan's own herds - for they had been promised the animals as part of their payment and so with their crude cunning, they laundered their crimes.
"For that reason, it is not surprising that the nobles of Averland rose up against the presence of these invaders, defending their herds and their lands from its thieving, crop-eating ways. The first few nobles to forbid entrance to parties from the caravan were ignored. But though they were Sigman, their lords still knew their duty. The caravan had barely reached Heideck by the time it found that every single noble was refusing them permission to graze their herds or cross their lands. A number of bloody incidents only accentuated Averlandish hate - and the hatred of the locals only intensified the fear of the halflings in the caravan.
"Most of the battles between the Averlandish and the halfling caravan were petty things that pass largely unrecorded, but they slowed its progression down and bled their forces. However, as Count von Ellinbach tried to work out what was going on through the fog of confusion, exaggeration, and rumour, the southern Count Maximillian von Kusch took matters into his own hands. As was his duty as a knight, he raised his own forces and a goodly number of his neighbours. Knowing the size of his foes, he also hired a veteran regiment of free company soldiers who had served with him in the War of the Stirlish Succession and called on the minor knightly order of the Red Hound."
Louis du Bosque, "Le déclin et la ruine des états de Sigmar"
Article:
"Battle would be met by the village of Biberbach. Following reports from scouts in the area, Count von Kusch set up atop a hill by the town, with a small number of cannon positioned along the ridge and with his infantry formed up in front of it. His cavalry, he concealed behind the hill with a smaller detachment hidden behind a nearby copse.
"It was early morning when an element of the caravan made itself known - around two hundred mercenaries, a body of civilians - including a number of halflings from a nearby village - and twenty ogres. Count von Kusch demanded their immediate surrender, that they lay down their arms and to return to the Old Dwarf Road - leaving behind any cattle and items of value in their wagons, as recompense for the damage they had caused to Averland.
"The bestial ogres took this as a great insult, but while their paymasters tried to contain their fury, a delegation was sent to entreaty with the count under the command of Eldra Stoutfoot. However, the two sides could not come to an agreement, and the halflings were aware that they were running well behind schedule. They would not turn back; Count von Kusch would accept nothing less.
"However, while negotiations were ongoing, the halfling's forces had been deploying the cannon they had in their wagons. Once Eldra had returned to her forces, she gave the order to fire on the ridge line. This caught von Kusch's forces off-guard, for the halflings had well-made Nuln cannon. The mercenaries manning his cannons ran, rather than face the salvo. With them driven off, the halfling's guns turned their fire on the infantry. Meanwhile their own men, flanked by the infantry, advanced up the slope.
"However, in their impetuousness, they had left themselves vulnerable. Von Kusch's son, Justin, who was leading the cavalry detachment behind the woods took advantage of this, and charged the lightly protected artillery and wagons. Such an uneven fight could only end one way, and soon the cavalry were plundering the wagons, having cut down the artillery-men and the wagon guards. When they realised what was going on, the halfling forces turned and marched back down the hill - only to be charged from the rear by the second force of Averlandish cavalry, and routed.
"By noon, the Averlanders controlled the field. Half the ogres had been slain - for the knights of the Red Hound were eager for glory - and von Kusch had lain claim to the finely made guns that they had had with them and the contents of the supply wagons. Still, his forces had taken heavy losses from the initial shelling and his cavalry were busy rounding up the cattle, so he could not press his advantage."
Hansel Tiecher, "Minor Averland Battles in the Crisis of the Early Twenty-Third Century"
Article:
"In the end, one branch of the great evacuation scheme of the halflings would be greatly delayed due to the painfully slow, bloody progress across Averland. Historians wonder why the Count of Averland did nothing to ease their way, but like so many decisions in Averland, it is a mystery to us. As a result, the Stirlish branch left for the west ahead of their compatriots, due to the pressure of the edict of exile and the dire conditions in the refugee camps by the Stir."
Christoff Sauer, "Close to the World's Edge: The Eastern Lands of Sigmar During the Crisis"
