Remove ads

Lords of Darkness (WHF CK2-Ish Quest)

Reader mode
Negation said:
Bait and Switch

Location: Somewhere outside Castle Lyonesse

It was the low tide, the seabed below the motte of Castle Lyonesse lie exposed beneath the sun revealing the bounty of Manann. Kelp, shrimp and crabs were aplenty but these did not interest the men scurrying across the slippery lichen covered ground.

Their target, the complex series of caves beneath the motte now exposed alongside the underground river. They quickly entered the largest one where the river flowed to the sea, uncaring for leaving any traces for they would be washed away once the tide rises again.

They penetrated as deeply as they dared and stopped directly beneath the castle's foundations. Now they carefully and precisely planted the devices and implements granted them by Holy Aleksander and ritually carved sigils and runes into the rock as they hummed hymns praising His Name.

Finishing their Sacred Task, they fell back in good order, scattering scraps of Ork & Nroscan weapons and fetishes randomly about, sometimes wandering into side paths and doubling back.

By the time they reached the exit, the tide had risen and fell, the waning moon provided minimal light, casting enough shadows for them to safely retreat undetected back to their safehouse.

Now they released their Messenger Bat from the roof to report their success and waited.

---​

Dawn.

A great rumble resounded from Castle Lyonesse. Birds screeched and took to the air alongside a huge cloud of dust rising from the earth.

A small tidal wave swept to shore coating it with jetsam buzzing with flies and a vile otherworldly stench.

The Duke of Lyonesse roared with rage as his knights & squires ran around like headless chickens as anarchy reigned.

As to why? Castle Lyonesse has sank a foot into the earth, also it was now leaning.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Select you omake reward:
[] +10 bonus to Sabotage the Ritual
[] ???
[] ???
 
So l will give you guys a funny story:

A friend of mine imprinted what he considered to be the most stupid/idiotic/derp moments of the end times event that happened pre-age of sigmar. And then he dared me and a few others to read it.

Our reactions were as you expected.

We accepted it, the thing was literally burned afterwards.
 
Ah....I remembered those events. I find them....questionable and that was just me being polite.
 
Remove ads
Long Range Love (Semi-Canon)
  • Sidestory
    • Okay, I'm going to try my hand at this omake thing.


    Omake: Long Range Love

    The leaning structures of Castle Lyonesse could be seen far into the distance, the hit squad reported. Smoke rose, something deep inside the massive structure having clearly caught aflame, and work crews buzzed like ants from such a vast distance away, barely visible even with the sharp hawk-like eyes of the lead scout.

    "How are they on repairs?"

    "Same as usual," the scout quietly grunted, slowly moving back deeper into the shade of the tree's branches he was nestled in. His outfit, like all of theirs, were light leather and padded gambesons, but with the addition of branches, leaves, and evne some mud and dirt smeared or glued onto it. It was a messy rig, but it guaranteed the team would not be caught visible by any party barring the supernatural, and even then they had a few trinkets to deal with that problem. "Seems like the usual leadership, bullying and roaring like usual."

    "Still whipping them?"

    A shrug. "Yeah, they don't know how to by any other means."

    "Fucking knights."

    The group nodded. Recruited from Mousillon's depths, they all knew how corrupt Brettonia's knights could be.

    The leader stretched slightly, drawing his team mates' attention. He carefully placed his massive crossbow, almost an arbalest in size, on his lap, gesturing to their weapons. "Situation isn't any different than before," he grunted quietly. "We still have our leads, and they are still doing their normal routine."

    "Is six weeks enough for a reliable pattern?"

    The leader paused. "We dare not wait any longer. We deploy at sunset."

    ***

    The sun was barely beginning to descend, the colors of the sky beginning to change as their positions in three copses of trees were secured. In truth they had been secured a long time before, the ignorant shepherds and flower-strewn maidens who wandered by in the daylight ignorant of the secured perches literally over their heads. They had been watched as well, the usual poxes and warts on their faces from the diseased Brettonian way of life scarcely worse than usual at Nurgle's corrupting touch, but ultimately they were decided to be unworthy of death's touch, for they had departed on their usual rounds.

    Their targets were moving well as usual, a septet of priests and priestesses who only departed from the castle every seven days, a clear need for supplies for their rituals evident in their behavior and what they brought back to the doomed castle. They were definitely NOT the higher ranks of Nurgles' priests, for those individuals were so blessed by their dark god's touch that they could not be inconspicuous in a public light. No, these were the the ranks below them, the second and third tiers, for Nurgle's number being seven there were seven tiers of priests for any ritual seeking to maximize Nurgle's power on this plane.

    The leader clambered into his chosen perch with his partner, and they both grabbed their icons around their necks, symbols of Lord Alexander's power. He would protect them from Nurgle's gaze, and as the sun's light waned his power would grow, so mote it be.

    Each chosen Nurglite priest has two crossbowmen trained on him, chosen to ensure a quick instant kill; is one missed, the second would finish them off. The guards around them, hulking corrupted Brettonian knights who were disguised in thick layers of cloth and leather (barely hiding their new "blessings"), were deemed irrelevant; if the team was caught they would be dead anyway, unable to escape in time. They were good certainly, but not invisible, or as fast as the gazelles or Araby's deserts. One day maybe, but not now.

    The leader pulled out his favorite tool, a retractable periscope from the mystic land of Araby. Its thick glass lenses provided a view that seemed much like magic, and the subtle cursed features of the priests virtually leapt into view as shadows lengthened. Of course they would depart now, they sought the advantages of sunset and twilight in the obscuration of their features as their own team used.

    "Target acquired," he mumbled lightly. "Approach is normal. Prep weapons."

    Much effort had been spent on acquiring the needed weapons and materials for this operation. The crossbows were oversized and very powerful, requiring truly massive men to absorb the recoil adequately. It was also something beyond Mousillon's smiths currently, so first the Imperials had been contacted, the black market, the underground, and had led to the first whisperings from their Imperial counterparts. There had been surprise, but the overture had been appreciated, and these weapons had been provided by the Imperials, long enemies of Nurgle as well. They were masterful in design, firing bolts both faster, farther, and hitting much harder than normal. They even included iron nubs on the end to provide more accurate sighting, and a thick wooden stock sculpted to provide a brace against the vibrations from firing. They were the work of a partnership between a dead poet's grace, and a mad engineer's lamentations of grief over loss from the damned.

    The weapons inspected, the leader and his counterpart moved very carefully to pull out their sealed containers. They knew barely what was imbued in them, bolts of power, laced with fire and blasting powder in such a way to explode on hitting the target. There were reports of such devices, of course, but the works of the mad engineer who had invented them were thought old tales, and the engineer dead. Granting them these bolts came at a high price, but one worth it.

    They were delicate devices, so loading took a long time, a steel crank slowing ratcheting backwards. One slip of the crossbow's steel cord and limbs or fingers could come off, and certainly the bolt would be destroyed; in many this was the most hazardous part of the operation, for their lives meant nothing, the mission was the all-consuming demand on their minds.

    Finally the body-shattering power was contained, and cocked and loaded the duo waited, sighting on the targets on the hillside they had assembled and placed weeks ago, practicing and meditating for the perfect shot. Then it was nothing but waiting, the eternal waiting of the ones who fire from the shadows. Breaths were kept as quiet as possible, wrapped in layers of cloth, and heartbeats measured and found wanting.

    In truth the perch was pretty comfortable to one used to its contours for so long, and the leader's eyelids had begun to barely sag when a gentle poke in his elbow woke him instantly. The rattle of horses came along, and soon the entourage moved down the dirt path, priests riding with a casual air draped in their disguises as castle staff, the sound of laughter everywhere as they conversed amongst themselves. Of course they were relaxed, they were all one family, cursed as they may be, and this was their land, rebellion long beaten from the native peasants. No threat stood to render any paranoia valid.

    The target came up, and he heard his partner sigh as he did, sighting and calibrating last minute to accommodate the swaying of the horses.

    The wind seemed to die down a little bit, nature holding its breath as they did.

    With the last flicker of open sun descending down from the hilltops there was a hiss of fire, a fuscillade of lethal bolts flying in from all directions. The knights who provided escort could not react in time even with their minimal blessings, and priests who had told tales of their cursed brethren and of happy times with them found limbs, heads, and chest cavities exploding writhing cavaldes of fire. Smoke and flames filled the air, and the priest's screams were mercifully cut short after their capacity to do so was rendered inert.

    Steel was drawn and shouting erupting as the corrupted knights began to sally forth, but the leader and his partner had already leapt down from the tree, running through irrigation ditches as the flames and smoke provided temporary cover. By the time the knights had anything resembling a target to charge at, the various teams had already departed back into the shadows.

    ***

    The leader and his partner made it back to the rendezvous, and finally hoods came back, the leader issuing a rare smile as his companion's long locks of hair were allowed to be unleashed.

    He looked at his team. "Even their cursed god can't bring what remains back. Good job, we'll break up and meet at the border at the swallow's tree."

    The fourteen strong team nodded then dispersed, and the leader moved in to give his wife a deep kiss before they did the same.



    ***

    So, lots going on here.

    - 7 second and third tier Nurglite priests assassinated. While not the most directly powerful it is their still-visible humanity with minimal obvious "blessings" that allow them to venture out to keep the cultists supplied. They have paid for their lack of vision, and their deaths will severely destabilize the ritual due to lack of proper training and time to properly train new priests.
    - This Mousillon hit team was supplied by Imperial assassins, with over-engineered massive steel crossbows deliberately designed by an unknown insane Imperial engineer to take out clearly superhuman targets, including explosive incendiary bolts.

    So, @Alucard vampiry , I stand ready for judgement.
     
  • Sidestory
    • avatar11792 said:
    Okay, I'm going to try my hand at this omake thing.


    Omake: Long Range Love

    The leaning structures of Castle Lyonesse could be seen far into the distance, the hit squad reported. Smoke rose, something deep inside the massive structure having clearly caught aflame, and work crews buzzed like ants from such a vast distance away, barely visible even with the sharp hawk-like eyes of the lead scout.

    "How are they on repairs?"

    "Same as usual," the scout quietly grunted, slowly moving back deeper into the shade of the tree's branches he was nestled in. His outfit, like all of theirs, were light leather and padded gambesons, but with the addition of branches, leaves, and evne some mud and dirt smeared or glued onto it. It was a messy rig, but it guaranteed the team would not be caught visible by any party barring the supernatural, and even then they had a few trinkets to deal with that problem. "Seems like the usual leadership, bullying and roaring like usual."

    "Still whipping them?"

    A shrug. "Yeah, they don't know how to by any other means."

    "Fucking knights."

    The group nodded. Recruited from Mousillon's depths, they all knew how corrupt Brettonia's knights could be.

    The leader stretched slightly, drawing his team mates' attention. He carefully placed his massive crossbow, almost an arbalest in size, on his lap, gesturing to their weapons. "Situation isn't any different than before," he grunted quietly. "We still have our leads, and they are still doing their normal routine."

    "Is six weeks enough for a reliable pattern?"

    The leader paused. "We dare not wait any longer. We deploy at sunset."

    ***

    The sun was barely beginning to descend, the colors of the sky beginning to change as their positions in three copses of trees were secured. In truth they had been secured a long time before, the ignorant shepherds and flower-strewn maidens who wandered by in the daylight ignorant of the secured perches literally over their heads. They had been watched as well, the usual poxes and warts on their faces from the diseased Brettonian way of life scarcely worse than usual at Nurgle's corrupting touch, but ultimately they were decided to be unworthy of death's touch, for they had departed on their usual rounds.

    Their targets were moving well as usual, a septet of priests and priestesses who only departed from the castle every seven days, a clear need for supplies for their rituals evident in their behavior and what they brought back to the doomed castle. They were definitely NOT the higher ranks of Nurgles' priests, for those individuals were so blessed by their dark god's touch that they could not be inconspicuous in a public light. No, these were the the ranks below them, the second and third tiers, for Nurgle's number being seven there were seven tiers of priests for any ritual seeking to maximize Nurgle's power on this plane.

    The leader clambered into his chosen perch with his partner, and they both grabbed their icons around their necks, symbols of Lord Alexander's power. He would protect them from Nurgle's gaze, and as the sun's light waned his power would grow, so mote it be.

    Each chosen Nurglite priest has two crossbowmen trained on him, chosen to ensure a quick instant kill; is one missed, the second would finish them off. The guards around them, hulking corrupted Brettonian knights who were disguised in thick layers of cloth and leather (barely hiding their new "blessings"), were deemed irrelevant; if the team was caught they would be dead anyway, unable to escape in time. They were good certainly, but not invisible, or as fast as the gazelles or Araby's deserts. One day maybe, but not now.

    The leader pulled out his favorite tool, a retractable periscope from the mystic land of Araby. Its thick glass lenses provided a view that seemed much like magic, and the subtle cursed features of the priests virtually leapt into view as shadows lengthened. Of course they would depart now, they sought the advantages of sunset and twilight in the obscuration of their features as their own team used.

    "Target acquired," he mumbled lightly. "Approach is normal. Prep weapons."

    Much effort had been spent on acquiring the needed weapons and materials for this operation. The crossbows were oversized and very powerful, requiring truly massive men to absorb the recoil adequately. It was also something beyond Mousillon's smiths currently, so first the Imperials had been contacted, the black market, the underground, and had led to the first whisperings from their Imperial counterparts. There had been surprise, but the overture had been appreciated, and these weapons had been provided by the Imperials, long enemies of Nurgle as well. They were masterful in design, firing bolts both faster, farther, and hitting much harder than normal. They even included iron nubs on the end to provide more accurate sighting, and a thick wooden stock sculpted to provide a brace against the vibrations from firing. They were the work of a partnership between a dead poet's grace, and a mad engineer's lamentations of grief over loss from the damned.

    The weapons inspected, the leader and his counterpart moved very carefully to pull out their sealed containers. They knew barely what was imbued in them, bolts of power, laced with fire and blasting powder in such a way to explode on hitting the target. There were reports of such devices, of course, but the works of the mad engineer who had invented them were thought old tales, and the engineer dead. Granting them these bolts came at a high price, but one worth it.

    They were delicate devices, so loading took a long time, a steel crank slowing ratcheting backwards. One slip of the crossbow's steel cord and limbs or fingers could come off, and certainly the bolt would be destroyed; in many this was the most hazardous part of the operation, for their lives meant nothing, the mission was the all-consuming demand on their minds.

    Finally the body-shattering power was contained, and cocked and loaded the duo waited, sighting on the targets on the hillside they had assembled and placed weeks ago, practicing and meditating for the perfect shot. Then it was nothing but waiting, the eternal waiting of the ones who fire from the shadows. Breaths were kept as quiet as possible, wrapped in layers of cloth, and heartbeats measured and found wanting.

    In truth the perch was pretty comfortable to one used to its contours for so long, and the leader's eyelids had begun to barely sag when a gentle poke in his elbow woke him instantly. The rattle of horses came along, and soon the entourage moved down the dirt path, priests riding with a casual air draped in their disguises as castle staff, the sound of laughter everywhere as they conversed amongst themselves. Of course they were relaxed, they were all one family, cursed as they may be, and this was their land, rebellion long beaten from the native peasants. No threat stood to render any paranoia valid.

    The target came up, and he heard his partner sigh as he did, sighting and calibrating last minute to accommodate the swaying of the horses.

    The wind seemed to die down a little bit, nature holding its breath as they did.

    With the last flicker of open sun descending down from the hilltops there was a hiss of fire, a fuscillade of lethal bolts flying in from all directions. The knights who provided escort could not react in time even with their minimal blessings, and priests who had told tales of their cursed brethren and of happy times with them found limbs, heads, and chest cavities exploding writhing cavaldes of fire. Smoke and flames filled the air, and the priest's screams were mercifully cut short after their capacity to do so was rendered inert.

    Steel was drawn and shouting erupting as the corrupted knights began to sally forth, but the leader and his partner had already leapt down from the tree, running through irrigation ditches as the flames and smoke provided temporary cover. By the time the knights had anything resembling a target to charge at, the various teams had already departed back into the shadows.

    ***

    The leader and his partner made it back to the rendezvous, and finally hoods came back, the leader issuing a rare smile as his companion's long locks of hair were allowed to be unleashed.

    He looked at his team. "Even their cursed god can't bring what remains back. Good job, we'll break up and meet at the border at the swallow's tree."

    The fourteen strong team nodded then dispersed, and the leader moved in to give his wife a deep kiss before they did the same.



    ***

    So, lots going on here.

    - 7 second and third tier Nurglite priests assassinated. While not the most directly powerful it is their still-visible humanity with minimal obvious "blessings" that allow them to venture out to keep the cultists supplied. They have paid for their lack of vision, and their deaths will severely destabilize the ritual due to lack of proper training and time to properly train new priests.
    - This Mousillon hit team was supplied by Imperial assassins, with over-engineered massive steel crossbows deliberately designed by an unknown insane Imperial engineer to take out clearly superhuman targets, including explosive incendiary bolts.

    So, @Alucard vampiry , I stand ready for judgement.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Hmmm..... the events of this omake will be considered semi canon, some definitely happened while others didn't.

    Select your omake reward:
    [] +5 to Sabotage the Ritual
    [] Lamentations (not revealed if choosen)
    [] Plaguefather (revealed if choosen)
     
    [X] +5 to Sabotage the Ritual

    Need all the bonuses we can get. Would it be possible to state what was canon, btw? just curious.
     
    Just found about Solkan ie. The Chaos god of law and order, who is worshipped by the witch hunters organization.

    This gave me ideas, especially about Aleksander reaction to it when he founds out about him.
     
    gale said:
    I do not think Solkan is a chaos god. He is a god of law. here is a where you can find more Gods of Law
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    As I recall, he's closer to a god of tyranny. All who worship him are owned body, mind, and soul for his domain of domination wouldn't allow for them to have other gods in their hearts. Some Norscans actually worship him, though much like with khanite, it's forbidden and punishable by death.
     
    gale said:
    I do not think Solkan is a chaos god. He is a god of law. here is a where you can find more Gods of Law
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Chaos gods, are gods who take their domains to the most possible (and impossible) extremes and Solkan does that.

    While officially, not being the god of tyranny he is very much associated with it, his worshippers take their teachings of law and order to the extremes, while definitely not star father level of tyranny it is still there.

    Like @Dan24601 said his worshippers are owned body, mind, and soul while they have some free will, but is free will to just do basic things in extreme cases (eating, sleeping, etc), his champions are way worse because for all intents and purposes they suffered death of personality.
     
    Alucard vampiry said:
    Chaos gods, are gods who take their domains to the most possible (and impossible) extremes and Solkan does that.

    While officially, not being the god of tyranny he is very much associated with it, his worshippers take their teachings of law and order to the extremes, while definitely not star father level of tyranny it is still there.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Dude, while that rational is a pretty common explanation for why so many 40k label the Star Father a Chaos god, it's not how things work with the Gods of Law in Warhammer Fantasy. In the older editions, which Solkan comes from, there are three sets of gods. Chaos Gods, Law Gods and Order Gods(well back when the Gods of Law were a thing, the Order gods were simply called neutral to show that they didn't have any real stake in the Chaos vs Law conflict). Chaos Gods are well, the Chaos Gods, the Order Gods are basically the various racial and pantheon gods most mortals worship, Sigmar, Taal, the Lady, Khaine, etc. They oppose Chaos true, but more because Chaos threatens their worshippers and often goes against their "portfolios" to use a DnD term. They arise from the mortal races, are tied to them and are the most "mortal" in how they think.

    Law Gods on the other hand are directly opposite of Chaos Gods and indeed came into existence at the same time. They are essentially the other side of the coin. Where Chaos is well.. chaos and anarchy, Law is rigid order and stability. They are considered "better" then Chaos only because of how ascendant Chaos is compared to Law and thus Law is useful(the more ascendant Law become, the smaller the Chaos Wastes get, which the mortal races understandably view as a good thing), but if their positions were reversed then Law would be every bit the threat that Chaos is because Law would cause all change and development to cease, and nothing would ever change.
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top