Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
Mousillon Fighting
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Mousillon Fighting
The crypt doors opened. The howling spirit that was once Oda thrashed in its bonds, mad with hunger and ravaged by time. Her body pulled at the silverine chains, and she roared in the night, loud enough to shake her prison.
Finally, a shape clad in armor was thrust in to the halls. Its pulse ran, its heart beat, and its life-blood flowed.
A knife slide through the weakened chains, leaping from her prison, Oda sunk her fangs through the gorget. Hot blood, thick with the very power of life, filled her; she drank deep of the live-chalice before her, even as he began to jerk in her hands, even as he grew pale-- before finally he was empty and she was returned-- not fully, not yet, but her kingdom would be returned to her.
She closed her eyes and raised her hands, letting the dark power flow through her. Dhar, wicked magic, moved through her like a sieve, flowing into the bodies of the long dead around her.
She breathed a deep sigh in rotten lungs as these, her servants, rose from long slumber. Their armor was rusted, flecked with orange and red. Impossibly ancient, it still bore the marks of the first of Bretonnia's age, when legends had yet walked the world.
She walked out into the city, followed by her hundred strong retinue. She saw overcast skies, rain falling like a thousand knives and thunder lashing out. Fires consumed several buildings, and smoke clouds rose into the sky spitting their acrid stench over the whole.
There was a cry, and Oda saw living humans. They stood shield-to-shield, a wall formed in the same manner as the savage Norscans; clad in strange grey armor, they would jab at the enemy from time to time. Clad in tabbards of white and black, they bore the armor of that fool Martrud; she felt the stone of the shabby streets crack under her boot at the thought of the name.
Miraculously, one of the few knights in the motley group heard her and, stabbing one of the minor undead, motioned some of the men to do the same. With a single move, they punched through the rotten armor with their spear heads as a smaller number of more armored troops, sword wielders, moved to take their place.
The knight at front, wearing seemingly Norscan armor, began to bang his sword on his shield, and as he did the soldiers began to bang their spears and the ground. The chanted savage calls to their Lady, to their Duke, and to their Knight.
"Come and face me, Vampire, if you have the will! I am Lancelot Du Lac, and I do not go quiet!"
Oda hissed, wrathful. She pointed-- and streaming like water her minions poured fourth from their catacombs, the low moans of the dead emenating like a low roar.
For some dozen feet, her lieutenant, Léonide, ran, short sword in hand-- only for an arrow to punch through his flesh.
Normally the already-dead would have simply ignored it-- but this time he didn't. He jerked to a stop, and pulled the arrow it with a jerk. It glistened in the sun-- and as it sat, the ichor left smeared on it sizzled away, before Léonide fell.
The moment he touched the ground, he fell to ash; his rusted armor was all that was left.
Dozens more arrows whistled from the rooftops, striking her servants, where they struck the undead fell, flaking to ash and dust in the wind.
Dimly, the Vampire heard a whistle-- and then felt something pierce her long dormant heart. She fell to her knees and dimly watched as her hand fell to ash, her vision going blacker and blacker as more and more of the limb fell apart--
Until finally there was nothing but the laughter of thirsting gods.
--
#Gettingpoisonedwastotallyworthit
#Fuckvampires
#Thisisprobablytoomanypostsinthesameday
The crypt doors opened. The howling spirit that was once Oda thrashed in its bonds, mad with hunger and ravaged by time. Her body pulled at the silverine chains, and she roared in the night, loud enough to shake her prison.
Finally, a shape clad in armor was thrust in to the halls. Its pulse ran, its heart beat, and its life-blood flowed.
A knife slide through the weakened chains, leaping from her prison, Oda sunk her fangs through the gorget. Hot blood, thick with the very power of life, filled her; she drank deep of the live-chalice before her, even as he began to jerk in her hands, even as he grew pale-- before finally he was empty and she was returned-- not fully, not yet, but her kingdom would be returned to her.
She closed her eyes and raised her hands, letting the dark power flow through her. Dhar, wicked magic, moved through her like a sieve, flowing into the bodies of the long dead around her.
She breathed a deep sigh in rotten lungs as these, her servants, rose from long slumber. Their armor was rusted, flecked with orange and red. Impossibly ancient, it still bore the marks of the first of Bretonnia's age, when legends had yet walked the world.
She walked out into the city, followed by her hundred strong retinue. She saw overcast skies, rain falling like a thousand knives and thunder lashing out. Fires consumed several buildings, and smoke clouds rose into the sky spitting their acrid stench over the whole.
There was a cry, and Oda saw living humans. They stood shield-to-shield, a wall formed in the same manner as the savage Norscans; clad in strange grey armor, they would jab at the enemy from time to time. Clad in tabbards of white and black, they bore the armor of that fool Martrud; she felt the stone of the shabby streets crack under her boot at the thought of the name.
Miraculously, one of the few knights in the motley group heard her and, stabbing one of the minor undead, motioned some of the men to do the same. With a single move, they punched through the rotten armor with their spear heads as a smaller number of more armored troops, sword wielders, moved to take their place.
The knight at front, wearing seemingly Norscan armor, began to bang his sword on his shield, and as he did the soldiers began to bang their spears and the ground. The chanted savage calls to their Lady, to their Duke, and to their Knight.
"Come and face me, Vampire, if you have the will! I am Lancelot Du Lac, and I do not go quiet!"
Oda hissed, wrathful. She pointed-- and streaming like water her minions poured fourth from their catacombs, the low moans of the dead emenating like a low roar.
For some dozen feet, her lieutenant, Léonide, ran, short sword in hand-- only for an arrow to punch through his flesh.
Normally the already-dead would have simply ignored it-- but this time he didn't. He jerked to a stop, and pulled the arrow it with a jerk. It glistened in the sun-- and as it sat, the ichor left smeared on it sizzled away, before Léonide fell.
The moment he touched the ground, he fell to ash; his rusted armor was all that was left.
Dozens more arrows whistled from the rooftops, striking her servants, where they struck the undead fell, flaking to ash and dust in the wind.
Dimly, the Vampire heard a whistle-- and then felt something pierce her long dormant heart. She fell to her knees and dimly watched as her hand fell to ash, her vision going blacker and blacker as more and more of the limb fell apart--
Until finally there was nothing but the laughter of thirsting gods.
--
#Gettingpoisonedwastotallyworthit
#Fuckvampires
#Thisisprobablytoomanypostsinthesameday
Get rekt vampire scum.
No such thing imo
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
M3lk0r
H3 wh0 Ar!535 !n M!gh+
- Location
- Gondolin
only if you're feeling burnt out
Be My Sins Remembered (Morgyan Regency Part 1)
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Be My Sins Remebered
You ride through the swamp, the pony sweating in the oppressive heat. Flies buzz around you, trying to feast upon the poor creature or on you; but with a few swats of your knife you manage to get the point across.
Finally you enter the clearing. You were younger, last time you were here-- faster, less weighed down. In and out, plunge the sword and leave someone who trusted you to die.
Behind you, Philip's beast growls, sensing the magic flowing through this place. Fey spirits whisper in the woods, watching you; their green eyes regard the both of you like creatures of shadow, come to kill, and kill, and kill again.
Finally you see it. The cavern, where she rests. The White Dame, winter spirit of Mousillon, is down there, and has been for centuries.
There comes a cracking like bones as the mud shifts and the fire wreathed form of the Gargouille, snake jaws leaking acid and nostrils spewing flames as the gray scaled body rose up, rises from the mud, hissing and roaring and spewing flames.
"You should not have come back, Titania Spawn. Die."
He lunges at you-- but before he can strike, Philip appears, blade flashing in the sun. A bubbling cut springs up on his hide, leaking green tinged blood. "Go, do the deed."
And then he is locked in battle for his life, trying to fix yet another of your mistakes.
You leap into the cave, cloak fluttering behind you. Landing with a hard bang, you throw up the water that sits in the puddle around you. Rising up, you look around-- and see only darkness.
Taking your flint and a striker, you walk over to where you know a small sconce lies, filled with oil. Striking it once, twice, thrice, you finally send sparks-- and it bursts into life, green fire. It trails down a long line of stone, throwing light-- flickering and soft, but light-- through the caves.
The people who once lived here have been busy, you see. Great carved statues of the Dame Martha rest in the entry way, images of her frozen in time. Up above, carvings that look suspiciously like you-- how they knew, since you had escaped back to the Court so swiftly, eluded you-- offering your hand to haul her up from a precipice, then you speaking with her, and finally at the very center one of you stabbing the Blade Vorpal into her, binding her to the rock.
Walking further into the cave you see it, a plinth, with a plaque of gold screwed in.
Here is where the Dame Noir, Morrigan, betrayed the Good Woman Martha, dame of this land, in the year 1000.
You pull your hood up over your head, walking further into the cave system. As you do you see more and more veins of venomous green in the rock, running through them like so many arteries.
Finally you see what you have come for. She has not aged a day since you were last here. Saint Martha, as many of the people would have called her-- suspended in time, still bearing the fearful grimace she had when you betrayed her.
It would not be the last, but it would be one of the worst.
Finally you reach the wounded woman, and wrap both your hands the damned sword, getting a grip tight on it.
You pull with all your might, and with a grunt fall back holding the wicked thing. The wound in Martha's side spits white light, almost bright enough to blind you; ice forms around it, thick and mighty, the ichor of a spirit.
She gives one last gasp, a dying woman-- and then falls apart, the spirit finally freed.
She will be reborn, in time. She will come with the next winter, mild or wicked as it, soft as its snow or sharp as its ice-- and in time she will undo your many mistakes.
In time, the Court Shattered will be reborn. In time, what you did might be repaired-- but for now, your husband needs you.
You climb that the natives made so many ages ago, rising up to the surface. The Gargouille scents you and leaps from your husband, nostrils spewing smoke and ash and fire to leap at you.
"The deed is done. The Winter Maiden, Saint Martha, she is dead-- and her spirit will be reborn. Go now, and seek her instead of your vengeance."
He lands in front of you, growling and snarling like a beast. "If I had but the time, spawn of Shadow, you would lie dead on the ground, throat split."
"If."
He gives a final roar before turning to Philip, wrath carved on his face. "Watch this one, knight. She is slippery indeed."
He leaps off, running to the north-- where no doubt the White Dame is, even now, being reborn.
And so it is you leave, the vorpal sword clad in its sheathe once more, black onyx weeping.
--
Morgyan Gains Vorpal Sword: A magical blade forged of the malice of Titania and her will to see this world plunged into her control, it has shed the blood of more fae and killed more innocent than can be reckoned. (Captured major artifact of the Court of Shadows)
Trait modified: Mistress of Shadows: Morgyan has helped an old-friend find peace-- though she could not save her, she did manage to free her spirit, allowing a new Winter Maiden to be chosen.
You ride through the swamp, the pony sweating in the oppressive heat. Flies buzz around you, trying to feast upon the poor creature or on you; but with a few swats of your knife you manage to get the point across.
Finally you enter the clearing. You were younger, last time you were here-- faster, less weighed down. In and out, plunge the sword and leave someone who trusted you to die.
Behind you, Philip's beast growls, sensing the magic flowing through this place. Fey spirits whisper in the woods, watching you; their green eyes regard the both of you like creatures of shadow, come to kill, and kill, and kill again.
Finally you see it. The cavern, where she rests. The White Dame, winter spirit of Mousillon, is down there, and has been for centuries.
There comes a cracking like bones as the mud shifts and the fire wreathed form of the Gargouille, snake jaws leaking acid and nostrils spewing flames as the gray scaled body rose up, rises from the mud, hissing and roaring and spewing flames.
"You should not have come back, Titania Spawn. Die."
He lunges at you-- but before he can strike, Philip appears, blade flashing in the sun. A bubbling cut springs up on his hide, leaking green tinged blood. "Go, do the deed."
And then he is locked in battle for his life, trying to fix yet another of your mistakes.
You leap into the cave, cloak fluttering behind you. Landing with a hard bang, you throw up the water that sits in the puddle around you. Rising up, you look around-- and see only darkness.
Taking your flint and a striker, you walk over to where you know a small sconce lies, filled with oil. Striking it once, twice, thrice, you finally send sparks-- and it bursts into life, green fire. It trails down a long line of stone, throwing light-- flickering and soft, but light-- through the caves.
The people who once lived here have been busy, you see. Great carved statues of the Dame Martha rest in the entry way, images of her frozen in time. Up above, carvings that look suspiciously like you-- how they knew, since you had escaped back to the Court so swiftly, eluded you-- offering your hand to haul her up from a precipice, then you speaking with her, and finally at the very center one of you stabbing the Blade Vorpal into her, binding her to the rock.
Walking further into the cave you see it, a plinth, with a plaque of gold screwed in.
Here is where the Dame Noir, Morrigan, betrayed the Good Woman Martha, dame of this land, in the year 1000.
You pull your hood up over your head, walking further into the cave system. As you do you see more and more veins of venomous green in the rock, running through them like so many arteries.
Finally you see what you have come for. She has not aged a day since you were last here. Saint Martha, as many of the people would have called her-- suspended in time, still bearing the fearful grimace she had when you betrayed her.
It would not be the last, but it would be one of the worst.
Finally you reach the wounded woman, and wrap both your hands the damned sword, getting a grip tight on it.
You pull with all your might, and with a grunt fall back holding the wicked thing. The wound in Martha's side spits white light, almost bright enough to blind you; ice forms around it, thick and mighty, the ichor of a spirit.
She gives one last gasp, a dying woman-- and then falls apart, the spirit finally freed.
She will be reborn, in time. She will come with the next winter, mild or wicked as it, soft as its snow or sharp as its ice-- and in time she will undo your many mistakes.
In time, the Court Shattered will be reborn. In time, what you did might be repaired-- but for now, your husband needs you.
You climb that the natives made so many ages ago, rising up to the surface. The Gargouille scents you and leaps from your husband, nostrils spewing smoke and ash and fire to leap at you.
"The deed is done. The Winter Maiden, Saint Martha, she is dead-- and her spirit will be reborn. Go now, and seek her instead of your vengeance."
He lands in front of you, growling and snarling like a beast. "If I had but the time, spawn of Shadow, you would lie dead on the ground, throat split."
"If."
He gives a final roar before turning to Philip, wrath carved on his face. "Watch this one, knight. She is slippery indeed."
He leaps off, running to the north-- where no doubt the White Dame is, even now, being reborn.
And so it is you leave, the vorpal sword clad in its sheathe once more, black onyx weeping.
--
Morgyan Gains Vorpal Sword: A magical blade forged of the malice of Titania and her will to see this world plunged into her control, it has shed the blood of more fae and killed more innocent than can be reckoned. (Captured major artifact of the Court of Shadows)
Trait modified: Mistress of Shadows: Morgyan has helped an old-friend find peace-- though she could not save her, she did manage to free her spirit, allowing a new Winter Maiden to be chosen.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Cool.
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
Interesting.
How old is is our wife?
EDIT: So Morygan is around four hundred years old?
EDIT: So Morygan is around four hundred years old?
Last edited by a moderator:
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
35.
Fae fucking with time and throwing their servants back to wreck everything isn't exactly uncommon-- see, for example, Duke Melmon.
Turn 14 Old World News
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Turn 14 Old World News:
Bretonnia
Battle of the Obsidian Cathedral: The battle for the Obsidian Cathedral-- and with it, control of the remains of Duke Landuin-- has only intensified with the addition of a thousand Dwarf slayers. The vampire's great armies-- their thousands of risen dead-- have been cut down like sheep to the slaughter, but the actual leaders remain frustratingly hidden, and more and more of the Vampire's most powerful servants have been unleashed on the army.
Slaughter In Mousillon: Many soldiers of Bretonnia, knights and peasants alike, were killed in the harsh street-to-street fighting between the undead and the kingdom to take back the city. The king's once rapid process has fallen to a crawl, not helped by the relentless tide of abominations leaking into the streets-- nameless, fleshless creatures risen in desperation by the necromancers to buy themselves time.
A Renown Worthy Feat: Godrey Folcard, the eldest son of the Duke of Montfort, disguised as a wandering knight, joined a tourney after making a bet with the Grand-Master of the Knights Encarmine. He managed to defeat the man's own son in a joust, along with several other members of the order, and thus made the Master send several hundred of his finest warriors to Mousillon. Though they are...difficult, their skill with a blade means that they are a welcome sight in the swampy land.
The Waters of Death Flow: After a week long siege, the forces of Bretonnia arrayed in the Salted Marsh emerged victorious after the Nine Lords were slain at the hands of Duke Philip. Almost immediately afterward, barrels of the Water were distributed to the Bretonnian forces, where they have proven quite effective in putting down Vampires.
Taking The Beaches: Duke William and the forces of Écosse, supplemented with the Waters of Death, have managed to clear the beaches of vampiric control-- the fighting was fierce and bloody, but ultimately turned when several trebuchets, moved by the River Grismerie and provided by Montfort, rained watery death on the Undead.
An Imperial Army Joins the Fray: Emperor Wilhelm has dispatched an army of five-thousand State Troopers and other various soldiers to Bretonnia as a diplomatic gesture in order to help soothe any lingering tensions over Sir Pierre's Death.
Knightly Brothers From Another Mother: Thousands of knights of the Empire, convinced by the rhetorical skills of Duke Lafayette of Gisoreux, have come over the borders of Bretonnia to join the crusade. Many are Sigmarites and Morrites seeking to put down Vampires and thus curry their lord's favor; whatever the case, their weapons are much appreciated.
Myrmidon Answers: The Alliance of Estalia has sent ten-thousand soldiers under command of General Gil, in order to convince Duke Louis of Parravon to sell them trebuchet. Heavily armed pikemen, they have reinforced the Siege of Castle Rachard.
Kislev Aid: A thousand of the famed Winged Hussars of Kislev have made their way into Bretonnia. Falling the blizzards of Kislev, they have whipped through the vampiric lines like a guerilla army, wheeling in and out and escaping in good time.
Tilea
The Eternal Stalemate Shifts: The war has changed. The Red Blade Mercenaries, commanded by Prince Zuan of Trantio, under cover of darkness, swept into the city of Remas, disguised as beggars. Once they were in, and the men of the walls transferring so that they could have their midday prayers, were instead trapped in the streets by the sword wielders.
A brawl ensued, the mercenaries and the militia fighting hand-to-hand, only for a surprise to rip out through the streets-- the pounding of horses.
The Spada, saber armed horse riders, punched in through the gate, opened by sabotage. Pinched between two forces, and pikes unmaneuverable in the densely packed streets, the mercenaries of Remas were ridden down and the militia surrendered, leaving the city under the control of Zuan.
This has cut the Myrmidian League in half, splitting apart the alliance. Many expect it to fall soon.
Bretonnia
Battle of the Obsidian Cathedral: The battle for the Obsidian Cathedral-- and with it, control of the remains of Duke Landuin-- has only intensified with the addition of a thousand Dwarf slayers. The vampire's great armies-- their thousands of risen dead-- have been cut down like sheep to the slaughter, but the actual leaders remain frustratingly hidden, and more and more of the Vampire's most powerful servants have been unleashed on the army.
Slaughter In Mousillon: Many soldiers of Bretonnia, knights and peasants alike, were killed in the harsh street-to-street fighting between the undead and the kingdom to take back the city. The king's once rapid process has fallen to a crawl, not helped by the relentless tide of abominations leaking into the streets-- nameless, fleshless creatures risen in desperation by the necromancers to buy themselves time.
A Renown Worthy Feat: Godrey Folcard, the eldest son of the Duke of Montfort, disguised as a wandering knight, joined a tourney after making a bet with the Grand-Master of the Knights Encarmine. He managed to defeat the man's own son in a joust, along with several other members of the order, and thus made the Master send several hundred of his finest warriors to Mousillon. Though they are...difficult, their skill with a blade means that they are a welcome sight in the swampy land.
The Waters of Death Flow: After a week long siege, the forces of Bretonnia arrayed in the Salted Marsh emerged victorious after the Nine Lords were slain at the hands of Duke Philip. Almost immediately afterward, barrels of the Water were distributed to the Bretonnian forces, where they have proven quite effective in putting down Vampires.
Taking The Beaches: Duke William and the forces of Écosse, supplemented with the Waters of Death, have managed to clear the beaches of vampiric control-- the fighting was fierce and bloody, but ultimately turned when several trebuchets, moved by the River Grismerie and provided by Montfort, rained watery death on the Undead.
An Imperial Army Joins the Fray: Emperor Wilhelm has dispatched an army of five-thousand State Troopers and other various soldiers to Bretonnia as a diplomatic gesture in order to help soothe any lingering tensions over Sir Pierre's Death.
Knightly Brothers From Another Mother: Thousands of knights of the Empire, convinced by the rhetorical skills of Duke Lafayette of Gisoreux, have come over the borders of Bretonnia to join the crusade. Many are Sigmarites and Morrites seeking to put down Vampires and thus curry their lord's favor; whatever the case, their weapons are much appreciated.
Myrmidon Answers: The Alliance of Estalia has sent ten-thousand soldiers under command of General Gil, in order to convince Duke Louis of Parravon to sell them trebuchet. Heavily armed pikemen, they have reinforced the Siege of Castle Rachard.
Kislev Aid: A thousand of the famed Winged Hussars of Kislev have made their way into Bretonnia. Falling the blizzards of Kislev, they have whipped through the vampiric lines like a guerilla army, wheeling in and out and escaping in good time.
Tilea
The Eternal Stalemate Shifts: The war has changed. The Red Blade Mercenaries, commanded by Prince Zuan of Trantio, under cover of darkness, swept into the city of Remas, disguised as beggars. Once they were in, and the men of the walls transferring so that they could have their midday prayers, were instead trapped in the streets by the sword wielders.
A brawl ensued, the mercenaries and the militia fighting hand-to-hand, only for a surprise to rip out through the streets-- the pounding of horses.
The Spada, saber armed horse riders, punched in through the gate, opened by sabotage. Pinched between two forces, and pikes unmaneuverable in the densely packed streets, the mercenaries of Remas were ridden down and the militia surrendered, leaving the city under the control of Zuan.
This has cut the Myrmidian League in half, splitting apart the alliance. Many expect it to fall soon.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
We're all nine of those punks Vampire Lords?
That's honestly quite impressive.
That's honestly quite impressive.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Aid from Estalia?Ooh, aid from the Empire, Estalia, and Kislev! Thanks guys!
Normally I would be disgusted. They're Myrmidons though, major respect there.
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
Good work kiddo.
Well done Godfrey, way to do the family proud.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Civil War that keeps getting poked at by Mercenaries.
- Location
- Australia
So it's just another Tilean war? Nothing special?
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
One of the sides is trying to actually federalize and make a united kingdom, the other is trying to keep the current, fractured nature, and unlike most wars there is no plan to ransom any captured cities to the deposed leaders, meaning it's suddenly for keeps.
Also one of them is a lot of knights, so that's pretty new.