GM Note: Not as big as last years, but it's stuff!
Old World Rumor Mill
Forest of Shadows Fighting: The Forest of Shadows is a dreadful place. Only the mad, or ludicrously drunk, would purposefully spend their lives there. Case in point, the people of Ostland. For all that sometimes they try to call it the Hohenzollern Forest for the admittedly admirable deed of slaying the vampire Zacharias the Everliving, it is still the Forest of Shadows. Thousands upon thousands of beastmen were fought this year, the armies of Ostland led not by the infamous Steel Bull but by his son Magnus. A reasonably competent one as well as it turns out. Aided by his brother Arthur, the strange Morrite firebrand, they spent many months leading both the famous Army of Ostland and the somewhat lesser known Army of the Forest. A rather proud name for the latter, but there it is. They ambushed and fought numerous hosts of beastmen across the forests, crushing and slaughtering all in their way. The younger Hohenzollerns showed great honor to Sigmar and Morr, the Gods they surely hold dearest in their respective hearts. There are rumors of profane things found there, in that dread place. Hopefully all destroyed now, but just as likely not. We shall see what we shall see.
Stirland-Ostermarker Road: No matter what the nobles say, and how they sneer? Trade is the lifeblood of nations. The Empire especially. Trade goods flow, and what are these goods? Food. Drink. Clothing. The most vital of human comforts are what is traded, made to be bought and sold for coin. Which, in turn, feeds upon itself. Without trade, some settlements survive, surely. But what one lacks, one can get elsewhere. High quality wood and stone for walls and buildings, delicious and vital crops elsewhere. And so, trade. The Countesses of Ostermark and Stirland know this well enough, and so have pooled their resources somewhat – using dwarf contacts from the Hertwig side – to begin paving a great branching road across Stirland's newly acquired territory up to and through Ostermark. As well as some poking out towards the mountains where perhaps better trade might be found between these two provinces and the dwarfs of the World's Edge Mountains. An admirable display of cooperation between these two now properly joined provinces.
Sisters of Sigmar In Sylvania: The Red Abbey. An accursed place of vampires, necromancers, and the undead as a whole. Once a blessed place of Sigmar, corrupted for many, many centuries after the slaughter of its inhabitants by Konrad the Mad. Later inhabited by vampires who fled after the end of the first Vampire Wars. Until it was cast down, stone by stone at the hands of High Priest Arthur von Hohenzollern. Many priests of Morr presided over cleansing the grounds there, re-consecrating it. Later on, the Grand Theogonist would attend to the place, personally declaring a divine sanction upon the grounds. It is said that in exchange for certain amounts of funds from the Cult of Sigmar, the area was granted by the Countess of Stirland back into the hands of the Cult in a proper legal sense. There, a new Abbey has been founded by the Sisters of Sigmar as a part of a greater convent. The Sigmarshügel Convent is already inhabited by a hundred Sisters and their trainees, with its walls built high. A grand bell and tower was commissioned by the Grand Theogonist, each bar of bronze making it blessed by the highest authority of Sigmar in the land. It is whispered that the Grand Theogonist, both Arch-Lectors, and the Emperor himself both contributed notable amounts of their own blood into the forged metal. This so-called Bell of Purity tolls the time, a cleansing and clear sound to ring out over the previously eldritch silence that once filled Sylvania. Of particular note is the respect given over to Morr, the God of Death given a place of significance within the Convent, a small Garden of Morr present on the grounds with its own smaller detachment of priests and guards. A far better sight than what once stood upon that desolate hill.
Karlsbaum Monastery Undergoing Restoration: A sign of both diplomatic success and pious dedication has found its proof in the elder Karlsbaum Monastery, once entirely lost to time and wear, beginning to undergo restoration. A combined work between Talabecland's two Duke's Fuerbach – Krugar and Aloysis – the sons of the current Grand Duke, alongside the Count of Reikland. It is said, and quite openly acknowledged by all parties involved, that it was the Emperor Magnus who facilitated their communications not just with each other but with the Hierarchs of Taal and Rhya of multiple southern provinces. They have come together to restore the Karlsbaum Monastery, a place long fallen fallow. It is a wondrous place of true nature, its very structure seemingly crafted from vegetation itself. It is said an entire 'Warpack' of Longshanks were assembled to clear the place of belligerent spirits who refused to be calmed by the priests. A great many rituals have begun there, sponsored by both provinces at such a holy place to Taal and Rhya. A fine joining of Imperial brotherhood and piety, thanks to the Emperor's remarkable ability to smooth the traditional frictions of provincial and religious interests of the provinces.
Waldenhof Reconsecration Begins: Once the capital of Sylvania, a town built of hideous dark stone, the town of Waldenhof was one of the largest towns in the whole area for many centuries. During the fighting which so ravaged Sylvania, it was sacked no less than three times by the forces of the Empire. Repeated sackings, required as its citizens were raised into undeath and new necromancers and vampire came in shortly after the armies briefly departed. But with the Arch-Lectors and many a Morrite priest, there is effort being made to recreate the area. After all, without the taint of the undead and vampires preying upon the area, there is great opportunity for trade considering the river Stir and the dwarf holds in the hills. And thus, there is a place for growth, for civilization and the Empire to properly reclaim what has remained in the grasp of abominations for far too long. The hundreds of stone gargoyles that once infested the architecture of the area have, as of the end of this year, been properly and ritually destroyed, for it was proven by the wizards of the Colleges that they were in fact truly cursed. A number of stubborn Stirlanders are already being placed there, in search of economic opportunities.
Forsaken Magritta: Ah, Magritta. Friendly and welcoming trading city of Estalia. Goods once flowed there, back and forth, from all over the Old World and beyond. A city-state once wealthy enough to sponsor the founding of its own Lustrian colony! Oh, how they have fallen in recent years. Once one of the only major hold outs against the forces of Chaos, now collapsing against itself. Founding place and apparent secret holder of the reins against disturbingly far too many across the Old World in their precious 'Knights of Magritta' who have since turned against one another. Traders forced to choose one of the two fortresses which guard the Bay of Quietude against the others. The fighting between the Order, collapsed as it is, has grown to the point that a new front has opened up. Not between the 'Eagles' of the Order, who are all present within the city. But instead, a group of individuals calling themselves the 'Defenders of Magritta' have begun agitating to either eject or destroy the Order that has brought nothing but trouble upon their fair city are growing in number. The once mighty navy of that place was burnt and sundered entirely by the dread Tomb King of Zandri, and so now none patrol those waves or enforce the city's laws upon the seas. Now traders are traveling to the smaller towns along the southern Estalian coast, making them flush with unforeseen wealth. It is a knife-edge place, where violence seems ready to break out at any moment.
Sea Of Claws 2335 Report: A small smattering of raids occurred this year, which, considering the total lack of them last year? It is not surprising that the guards were somewhat sluggish in their responses. In truth, this was business as usual, to hear the old white-bearded men and the old crones tell it. What has been happening in the past has been the strange part. Sometimes too much, sometimes too little. Whatever the Dark Gods tell the Norscans, they chose this year to raid along the coasts of Ostland. Some came close to Salkalten, but upon sighting its defenses they either turned around or made for smaller settlements along the coast. A number of their ships escaped back across the Sea of Claws with some amounts of plunder and a few citizens, but that is life on the northern end of the Empire. Other ships were not so lucky, and it turned out to be Ostland's greatship to be a great killer. After the wolf ships had chased and chased the enemy ships, they were unfortunately tricked into an area of dead wind, turning the contest into one of rival rowing speeds. The Greatship, however, was able to manuever itself previously into the headwind, and thus its massive sails allowed it to reach the retreating longships and turn them to so much kindling. Fishermen elsewhere were able to do their work as they needed to, returning in the end of the year with enough bounty such that no true gain could possibly be said to have been made on either 'side'. It is the bloody equilibrium of the world, it seems. There were no sign of black-sailed druchii ships in the sea this year, but that does not mean that they were not there.
Stalemate Result Between Order And Destruction Successes And Failures Providing No Significant Difference.
Kislev Rumor Mill
Bohkha Brawl Sprawl In Kislev City: What one might consider to be the most important topic in Kislev – who should lead us properly – turned into a major fight this year in Kislev. Bar brawls are a fact of life, especially when the kvas and koumiss really gets flowing. But rarely have they been so disastrous. The argument was, obviously, over the gargantuan overreach of the Tzarina, her unreasonable taxes on those resistant of her rule, and other such perfectly legitimate complaints. Are the people not allowed to grumble into their cups?! Clearly not under her rule, and her precious 'secret' police. The fighting began in some tavern or another, or perhaps at three, for an entire street and a few buildings beyond were set entirely aflame. Rubble and bodies are all that remain. In the end, a detachment of Kreml Guard from the palace had to corral what was essentially a riot. Dozens were injured, and a handful further slain. Just one more sign of the unreasonable brutality of the Bloody Tzarina's rule! All dead, over regular disagreement! The entire area, once full of those who dared to even speak positively of the Bohkha, has been ruined because of the Romanovs!
Dolgans Arrive From High Pass: There are two kinds of Dolgan, broadly speaking. There are the Dolgan of Kislev, minor in the grand scheme of things, and the Dolgan not of Kislev. In Kislev, they are generally above what survives as the Roppsmenn, who were in turn near totally absorbed by the Ungols who were driven to do so in desperation when the Gospodar tribes first arrived in Kislev. A great many of them live in the three great cities of Kislev. However, it is known, very well, that there are the other Dolgan. The Dolgan that make up an entire nation of the Kurgan peoples. The same Kurgan peoples who the Everchosen Asavar Kul was spawned from. Those that have come to live in Kislev are looked down on due to their strange beliefs, in some cases worryingly close to the dark practices of their distant kind. Even those of the Norse who have come to live within Kislev's borders know better than that. But this year brought something new. A large group of Dolgan came through the pass, armed as all rightly would be, but confessed when stopped by border lancers to be seeking proper legal immigration! A strange thing indeed, but apparently there are strange rumors in the lands of the Kurgan. The Dolgan were forced to wait for months, but in the end were escorted down to Praag where they remain currently, watched over by hefty detachments of the Grand Army of Kislev. This has stretched supplies to the limit between the greater numbers of Ungol, the new influx of Dolgan, and the already present Gospodar of the city, but it is said that leaders of the Dolgan have been brought south for talks with the Tzarina. There are also rumors that the Bohkha are speaking to those that remain in Praag. There are many Dolgan here, and though it has been decades, none have forgotten how brutally effective these tribesfolk might be as an armed force. Only this time, might they fight alongside the true masters of Kislev, rather than the Dark Gods? Suspicion and small duels have already started up. Some are saying they should be slaughtered in total, despite the trade that has already picked up in the camps.
Religious Enforcement Woes: The Tzarina, madwoman that she is, has already begun a brand new program which infringes upon the rights of all who live within Kislev. She cast out the southern gods, for this, she cannot be entirely blamed, for there are none who could say they
liked the endless braying about Ulric or Sigmar. But claiming their temples for her own, destroying and then rebuilding them into new forms? Under her control? Far more of an issue. She claims the Gods do something, and her puppets repeat her words. But now, she has unleashed a new plague upon the good peoples of the land, a strange form of religious enforcement who preach the word of 'the pantheon' and look to ensure that all in Kislev give credence to 'proper' and consistent worship. Those that acquiesce to them, those officials and headmen who give way, receive bribes and lowerings of taxes for certain seasons! Is there nothing that the Tzarina will not stoop to, so that her 'vision' is completed?! These new Nadzirateli are blasphemers, for all that their number is made up of priests of 'the gods' and their guards.
Karaz Ankor Rumor Mill
Ziflin And Zealots: The vile creatures known as beastmen came storming up the mountains this year. While the manlings of Parravon were occupied with a vicious outpouring from Athel Loren in the form of their so-called 'Wild Hunt', it came to the dawi of Karak Ziflin to defend the men of the Empire. For surely, the beastmen would not be so foolish as to purposefully march against the dawi! No, the craven beasts sought to travel through the mountain realms and avoid the heavily defended Axe Bite Pass. And so did the throng of Ziflin march out, and though for sure they are not nearly as vast, aged, or powerful as their brethren holds to the east, none can deny that they are stout dawi with stout dawi hearts. Aided, as well, by a small column of manling warriors accompanying the journeying Rememberer Hertwig, and the Champion known as Regina Leitdorf. Both daughters of the 'Elector Counts' of the Empire, one of whom is of course the dwarf friend Ortrud. A warherd came storming up the hills and valleys…and met a strong dwarf shield wall, before being flanked by the manlings of the Empire. Together, Hertwig and Leitdorf struck deep into the warherd, the former slaying the beastlord in single combat while the latter shattered a truly horrible doombull, before King Derjun's hammerers completed the encirclement. A fierce battle indeed, and worse for the fact that so many beastmen were gathered in one place. But it was nothing more than a prelude, for down the peaks and from the direction of the Empire's side of the Grey Mountains came more of the creatures! Surrounded on all sides, it was an hour before the battle was done, grudges written and struck out by the end of the endeavor aplenty. Worryingly, a great many of the worse sorts of these abominable creatures were present, from centigor, to beastigor, doombulls, and one two-headed cygor whose thrown boulders shattered four grudge throwers during the battle, their crews only narrowly avoiding death. At least they are dead, and we are not! A grim, if positive, end of the matter. The feasting celebrating the victory lasted a week, the rare and much fabled Ziflin Pudding tasted for the first time in centuries by human mouths. Still, the longbeards have grumbled long and hard that Ziflin has not patrolled enough in the past, and this only proves them right. How else could the beastmen have come up the mountains so quickly and in such numbers?
Dragonback Skirmishes: There is a place, in this ancient world, where blood seems to be spilled in excess of almost anywhere else. Once known as the Badlands, named now for the sheer sheets of white and yellowed bone that range across it. The bodies of great squigs slain long ago, bodies picked clean by whole flocks of carrion. The burnt and scattered soot of hundreds to thousands of greenskins and skaven over the many years. Black Crag, once a noble dwarf hold, is firmly in the grip of the urk, and with every passing year the Iron Rock disappears past lines of the enemy too thick and too disturbingly watchful. Fighting burst out in the Bonelands proper this year once more, or at least around the Dragonbacks, rangers sighting the telltale signs of skaven weaponry and their strange sorceries fighting against the brutal warriors of the WAAAAGH!!! Strange columns of greenskins came roaring out of the Marshes of Madness, showing clear signs of battle on their equipment and numbers, joining in the fighting amongst the mountain reaches as well. One enterprising ranger, a beardling of no real note, was foolishly brave enough to get close to listen in. Apparently, a sprawl of vile necromancers had attempted to sneak into the old ruins within the Marshes of Madness, to try and take advantage of the sheer amount of bones and corpses left in the Bonelands. The greenskins took offense to this, and apparently spent some of their strength accordingly. Ranger teams from Karak Azul are even now investigating.
Skaven Assault Hirn: Ranulf the Red is a mighty warrior, and quite the conservative one as well. Both admirable qualities in a dwarf. Which is why it is such a shame to hear that the Hornhold has recently come under rather heavy skaven assault. Already, detachments of the Great Throng are heading back, including its King, who petitioned heavily and successfully with the High King that it was his duty to fight at his hold. With the King of Karak Hirn goes a significant portion of the Great Throng, its martial might now needed greatly at home. The skaven attacking are a mixture of their accursed so-called warrior-kind as well as a hefty amount of mutated beings of their damned 'Clan Moulder'. A great contingent of the slayers which have been gathering around the Everpeak for years went with them, further depleting the Everpeak's defenses should the orks arrive. As such, the High King has announced even further manufacturing plans for defensive weaponry, as well as commissioning multiple Runesmiths and even multiple Runelords to craft new and magnificent weaponry to equip his soldiery.
Kragg The Grim Departs Everpeak: It is a rare thing for Kragg the Grim to ever leave the depths of Karaz-a-Karak. In recent histories, only once in the past century had he done so, in the reclamation of Karak Ungor. Now he travels out once again, accompanied only by a small group of engineers and a small cadre of runesmith apprentices. They travel on gyrocopters to the south, towards the fallow Thunder Mountain, where once the Anvils of Doom were stored. He told only a few of his travel path, the better to ensure secrecy, and is likely there even now. It is not likely, despite what some wide-eyed beardlings might try to say, that he is somehow recreating the ancient Rune of Sorcery or crafting some new Anvil of Doom. He could not possibly have carried the materials required to do so with his party, nor would he have some way to truly safely transport it back even if he could! The ancient forges there are long-shattered and no doubt scavenged entirely by the skaven, orcs, or otherwise. But the heart of that volcano still burns, no doubt. What is he intending to do? Some old romantics say he intends to create something for his children, or perhaps even perform trials for his century-suffering apprentices to see if they are truly ready! The latter is a desperate hope in every apprentice runesmith's heart. As well as every apprentice engineer, jeweler, blacksmith, warrior, leatherworker, brewer, and so on since time immemorial. Don't get your hopes up beardlings! You're ready when your masters say you are ready!
