Pilgrims' Paths
All throughout the Old World there were places of holy significance to the various non-tainted and heretical cults that called it home, from the most famous to the most obscure. Among the faithful there were those that considered a holly duty and honor to travel to there various places throughout their lives to pray and become closer to their chosen god in the process, most often traveling humbly to each location with their own two legs and leaving themselves open to the risks of such long-distance travel in the process. However, faith and conviction would be their shield and therefore nothing short of death would stop them.
And in recent years many pilgrims of various faiths have found themselves drawn to a province in the Empire that for the longest time many considered lacking in piety on a good day, Ostland. For many things have changed since those days...
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Roald Dalman could help but marvel at the diversity of the streets of Wolfenburg as he made his way through the crowded and busy streets, with many from all walks of life and even races living together in seeming harmony. Few places had his pilgrims taken him that could compare, such as Nuln and Altdorf to name a few.
This became even more apparent as his feet took him to the 'Smokelands' of the city, where smoke clouded the skies and the cacophony of people was replaced with that of industry. It was very much in contrast to the more peaceful settings of other holy places he had been too, but at the same time fitting given his destination.
Roald would soon find himself in front of the famous, or infamous he supposed if one came from the south such as he, Ostland School of Gunnery and Engineering, a place to rival its southern cousins in the creation of tools large and small to better than Empire as a whole either through production or more commonly in battle. One of said products stood just within the front gate and before the entrance to the main building entrance, a symbol not just for the school but of Sigmar's strength and blessing upon this place just as the Emperor's seal was.
He kneeled and prayed before a raised platform where sat a seemingly normal looking cannonball, one of countless made by this very school, and a plaque set under it inscribed with the words, 'To Hell and Back', the unofficial motto of school itself.
But he knew this cannonball was far from ordinary, as did a few other pilgrims who were in prayer with him, before it since this holy artifice had been blessed during the war against the traitor Gruber by the War Priests of Sigmar, where it would find itself launched by a mighty cannon to bring great death to many heretics only to find itself thrown into a portal into the realm of Ruinous Powers itself, specifically the horrid Nurgle. The action would destabilize the portal, causing it to explode violently and kill many heretics and daemons, and cause the traitor Gruber himself to rage through his servants at the saviors of Nordland for '
daring' insult his foul master with the act.
But that is not all, for later in a separate battle, the final in fact, much later the cannonball would return to the physical realm after another portal was opened up by a foul sorcerer, blasting through the portal to kill sorcerer as if it reminded in midflight the whole time before finally coming to a stop. Truly, Sigmar's power and guidance was upon it as the cannonball braved the horrors of the Warp itself only to return and fights once more!
After the battle the cannonball was collected, found to be untainted from its journey through the hellish realm, and given over to the Count who would then have it placed with honor in front of the school.
Many among the cult later would claim that such a relic should be held in honor within a temple, but others would say it was being honored very much as is in its current place. Inspiring all engineers to craft wonders that would be used in the empire Sigmar crafted defense.
For to fight hell and overcome it, was truly words to live by in his name.
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Ludger Seger sweated and panted like a dog as he and others worked tireless in raising and placing the heavy stone blocks that made up one of the several walls that would defend this location. He was hungry, thirsty, tired and all manner of feelings that in lesser men would have driven him to the ground and refuse to move, but unlike lesser men he and his brothers were driven by a force greater than all of the combined in the name of Ulric and by the gods would they not fail him. For what could be holier than building a fortress-temple around the Iceborn Flame, a child of the Flame of Ulric made in glorious victory over the forces of chaos itself!
Besides, it is not as if they were being worked to death, though Ludger certainly wouldn't have complained if it was required of him.
He was but one of hundreds, thousands, at this point one can hardly could count the number of pious pilgrims who had come to gaze upon the Iceborn Flame, further proof of Ulric's strength and power, and had been drive by religious drive to assist in the temple's construction, a vast holdfast that would hold the countless faithful and its defenders as well when it was complete. It would be like a much smaller but no less hard to crack Middenheim if all of them had their way!
While not all pilgrims that came to see the Iceborn Flame remained for long, each devoted at least part of the year if not more in assisting in the contraction efforts, especially during winter when Ulric's gaze was upon them all the most, testing them through his time to work up a sweat even in the freezing conditions. Ludger and other brothers and sisters never complained, and in fact their work seemed to go even faster during the winter, surely being empowered by the Father of Wolves! Ludger himself had promised himself to remain till the job was complete and nothing less, because he wished to see the end result of his piety no matter what.
He would even be willing to take up an axe or hammer if needed to combat the monsters and other dark things that, clearly sensing Ulric's power, came out of the surrounding forests to attempt to tear down their efforts, but the White Wolves and other warriors defended this place with zeal to the point it was rare for them to stop working even during an attack. Ludger honestly kinda wished it did get serious enough for him to take part some days.
Nevertheless, he and many others would labor for as long as needed with a smile so that one day this temple would become another beacon of Ulric's might in the north and a constant black eye in the face of the Ruinous Powers forevermore.
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Sunna Mahler peacefully partook of Taal and Rhya's splendor next to the waterfall that flowed into the pond and which then flowed down a stream through the forest while birds sang and other small numbers rustled about, even a few deer drinking water from the pond not far away, nature's beauty truly on display. Such a shame such a place was unable to be reached until recently, lost to time long before the rise of Sigmar and only revealed after years since the Everliving's death.
Truly, with the foul vampire gone while the Forest of Shadows was not exactly safe it was at least much more traversable for the followers of the married elder gods. Even more so since the induction of the ogres of Ostland into their faith, with one of their number even now acting as a silent sentinel in this place, bare of everything besides a simple loincloth and a wooden gutplate, a large club fashioned from a fallen tree at his side. Truly at peace with his surroundings in such a way his cousins from the east could likely never achieve.
Many were quite shocked at first at the ogres interest in the cult, but faster than most could imagine the ogres adapted to the King and Queen of the wilds tenants and lessons well, becoming amazing new members who did their duties well across the province.
More than one holy place of Taal and Rhya could boast an ogre defender in some shape or form, happily killing those dark forces who would seek or destroy nature and shape it towards their own foul ends.
Indeed, there was a great revival of worship of Taal and Rhya across the province, though subtly and mostly in the rural parts of it. Its people no longer fearing the forests as much as they had for generations, still respecting the danger a great deal certainly, and actually ventured more within to truly experience Taal's splendor.
And truly bless those souls who worked hard to purge of forests of dark things every year, so that each step was made to make Taal and Rhya's realm pure.
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Horlos Hogbloom, Mootland born and raised, could not help but take a deep breath of the inside of the Great Kitchen of Rossin of the Northern March, taking in deep the various muttons, beefs, porks, and other foods common out here in the grasslands of Ostland. Truly, Esmerelda's blessing was here as well!
Despite what many back home thought of Ostland, and to be fair it certainly was a rough place, it was the birthplace of a proper cult of Esmerelda that even now had religious importance even if the Mootland was on its way to copying its ways. Back home his family always gave honor to her, much more than most halflings, and therefore he considered it a honor to come to the province to tour, explore and learn about the faith before bringing it back home alongside others. Namely he loved visiting all the Kitchens he could find, sampling their meals with religious zeal matching that of any human Sigmarite or Ulrician.
For this was truly a holy mission!
After visiting the Grand Kitchen, still the greatest of them all in terms of size and meals, he had gone across the province partaking of the lesser but no less amazing Great Kitchens and comparing them all. Each one was unique due to the regional foods available and always had some local flare others would lack. No two kitchens served meat, pies, vegetables, fruits and more alike after all! For no chief worth the name did not experiment and truly expand flavor as much as possible.
When he wasn't eating he was also reading, particularly of the Good Cookbook and all the recipes within that seemed to grow everyday here he was here.
No doubt, this was the most delicious religious journey he was sure anyone could partake!
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Savino Pasqual, Morrite of Tilea, could not help but feel a somber sense of peace as he explored the temple of Morr within Wolfenburg, something of its like having no true match in his home country. Still, he could not help be find it pleasing in a way, like Morr's own gaze was always within him no matter what while walking its halls.
At first he was concerned about the presence of so many not of the cult also walking about, but over time, since he had come to Ostland and visited the various gardens and smaller temples, he had come to not mind their presence much at all. In fact, he was actually glad so many were so welcoming of Morr rather than fearful as he had seen so many times elsewhere.
Seeing families willingly bring loved ones who had passed to their doorstep so the proper rituals might be preformed, speaking of their dreams and nightmares to the priests to help guide them through them, listening to the high priest's sermons... it was all so... more. And to think that this all didn't exist not so long ago as well, it was humbling in the extreme.
Many still did not believe that Morr's faithful should be so connected with the living, but in the end all that mattered was that Morr's strictures were followed and as far as he had seen that has always been the case wherever he wandered. Garden to garden, seeing the dead of countless generations all at peace while the living honored them, honored Morr as a whole.
Savino might just continue traveling for a bit. After all, there were still Doomings to give to those who needed it.
