Warhammer Fantasy (RP)

[GloriaPreussens 798]

Imperial Reikland

Konrad Albrecht, rightful Emperor of Sigmar’s Realm, Elector of Reikland, Lord of Carroburg and Altdorf. Titles, simply words to some, like the savages in the North, or the foul Greenskins. Titles, he would muse in closed confidence, were what separated civilized peoples from… Others. He would gladly take the advice of an uneducated farmer over that of a Norscans, regardless of his years or any “knowledge” he could claim. Musing these thoughts, he regained his focus, sitting upright in his throne, an officer of some sort stood before him, his own Seneschal, Karl von Carroburg, gave a concerned look, one a mere split second in length, but long enough for Konrad to notice.

 

He cleared his throat “I'm sorry, I was lost. What is it you wished?” The words were spoken in a carefree, almost bored manner. The officer stifled visibly, then composed himself “Your Imperial Majesty, I came to requisition soldiers from Carroburg and Altdorf to Middenland. As you're undoubtedly aware, our plans of attack are drawing close.”

 

Konrad scowled at the tone of the officer’s voice, cocky, arrogant, and sarcasm. It was an acrid flavor for speech, but he did deserve it, in a way. Nodding a few times “Yes… You'll receive swordsmen, halberdiers, handgunners and a large peasant levy from Carroburg, and Marshal Friedrich will take command. However, the soldiers of Altdorf have other duties. You are dismissed.”

 

With that, Konrad turned his head, whispering to his Seneschal, the officer bowed briefly and practically stormed out. No doubt furious of his chance to attain glory, he was now seconded to the Marshal, and received less than half the troops he wished. Konrad knew how many soldiers were there, however. There would be enough he was sure of it.

 

Leaning back in the high backed throne, Konrad exhaled loudly, that was the last person to see him today, thankfully. A mess of courtiers, nobles, Knights, and wealthy citizens stood at the stands on either side of the court, eagerly awaiting the Emperor’s next announcement or Decleration. They were disappointed when he simply stood up, gave a wave, and departed into the deeper sections of the palace.

 

-

 

Konrad paced in the war room, his Marshal and a variety of generals, captains, and nobles with a military mind all debated tactics, comparing defenses and weaknesses they could exploit. Small wooden markers on the painted map-table displayed Reikland’s own forces, and the best guesses of Middenland forces. The Emperor was stressed, it was obvious. Dark circles under his eyes, a glassed over gaze, and a tiredness in his voice made it obvious to all. Planning this war had been exhausting, more so than actually fighting one. It may have been simpler were it not for the Sylvanian Vampires eagerly awaiting the chance to feed on the Empire.

 

-A Diplomat is sent to the Elector State of Averheim

-A Diplomat is sent to the Dwarven High Kingdom

-A Diplomat is sent to the Kingdom of Bretonnia

-Troops begins to move toward Middenland, marshaling on the borders

-Altdorf begins retrofitting of the lower class districts, expanding markets and wealthy home space, forcing peasants to live in the farmlands and countryside

Edited November 11, 2015 by XHipsterAtheistX

[Narthok 10416]

 

Thorgrim reclines in the Throne of Power thumbing through the Great Book of Grudges. He shakes his head angrily slamming it shut "More entries with every passing day he mutters to himself" The great doors of the hall creak open slowly as a procession of dwarves enter followed by a single man bearing Empire colours enters flanked by two of Thorgrim's own shield bearers. He raises an eyebrow with curiosity before reopening the Great Tome and drawing his pen forth. 

Belegar, an unusually stowt dwarf bearing his trade mark warhammer approached the throne approached the Throne pausing a moment before bowing. Thorgrim sneers reminding himself to write down that slight at a later time. Thorgrim waves a gauntleted hand at the bowing dwarf "Report" he booms his deep voice echoing throughout the massive hall. Our forces have been making good progress pushing the Goblin-Kin back into their holes. However our forward scouts are reporting strange creatures fighting with the Orcs one was able to bring back a carcass that resembled a bipedal rat. Thorgrim frowned "Strange, take another unit of Longbeards just in case, we cannot afford to lose what progress we have made."

Thorgrim gestures the next in line to approach the throne. A dwarf with a massive gear propped up behind his helm approached the throne. Thorgrim nodded "How can I help you Grimm?" The High King asked softly. The odd dwarf tapped his hands together nervously before managing to stutter out a brief report. "The city upgrades are going well, we have managed to reinforce the walls and add platforms for additional units of cannon and thunderers." Thorgrim nods waving a hand "You may go"

He turns finally to the man wearing empire colours and motions for him to approach the throne.

The Diplomat staggers forward flanked by two shield bearers, he looks up at Thorgrim, what does he say?

~-~

Thorgrim is seated in the Throne of Power amongst the Grand Hall of Karaz-a-Karak he is constantly reading and adding to the Great Book of grudges while various Dwarven Lords deliver elaborate reports and maps to him.

Grimm Burloksonn begins upgrading the outer defences of Karaz-a-Karak reinforcing the walls and adding additional firing platforms for the thunderers and cannons of the Oathbearer army.

Belegar Ironhammer takes a unit of Longbeards to reinforce the first army currently repelling Goblins in the Great Mines

 

[Pureimp10 5691]

Kingdom of Bretonnia

 

 

King Louis knelt before a figure of The Lady of the Lake, silently in prayer. It had been many months now since the Blood Dragon began his reign of terror among the people of Aquitaine. So far, his men were unable to push him out of Bretonnian lands. All of this would be on his mind as he finished his prayers, stood up, and began to leave the small chapel.

 

Just outside the chapel doors stood two Grail Knights, diligently guarding their King from any would-be attackers. Waiting for him outside was a man-at-arms, a nervous look on his face. Impatiently, and frustratingly, the King stood before the man, waiting for him to give his message.

 

“Your Grace, I bring terrible news from the front. The Blood Dragon and his knights were spotted yet again.”

 

“And what became of this encounter?” The man would shift hesitantly, before saying, “Defeat....your grace.” King Louis would exhale, clearly disappointed by the news. “Very well, soldier. Return to your commanding officer with haste.” The soldier would bow, and quickly turn on his heels, running towards his destination. Sighing, King Louis would nod to the two Knights as they begin their journey to the palace.

 

---

 

In the palace, King Louis would find no rest. There, surrounded by nobles and generals and soldiers alike, he would rest his mind, closing his eyes for a few short moments. Then, the doors opened, and a man wearing Imperial garments would be before him, bowing low in respect.

 

King Louis would raise a brow, motioning for the diplomat to speak. (We can do this in Skype whenever you’re available).

 

---

 

Within the war room of his castle, King Louis eyed the figurines on the table carefully. His marshal would be beside him, clearing his throat before speaking. “Sire, we have troops positioned in Brionne, Bordeleaux, and Quenelles, waiting for your order.” The king would look at the map, and after chanting a quick prayer in his mind, would nod. “Give the order. Pray before attacking. The Lady will not abandon us to these dark beings.” The marshal would stand up straight, “Yes sir”. Louis would lean on the table, sighing with fatigue. He would not lose his kingdom yet.

 

[Esterlen 4499]

House Laevyn of Clar Karond 

 

Deep within the metropolis of Clar Karond stood the palatial tower of the House Laevyn. It was a horrid construction - an impossibly tall spire built with stones of ashen black, the various designs etched into its surface giving the impression of great claws and spines protruding from the building's sides like some great sea serpent's body. Like everything in the city, it had been built off the backs of slaves. There was blood, bones and even worse things in these bricks.

 

Mythael Locelear Laevyn, an aristocrat of middling esteem in the city, stood stoically within one of the darkened chambers of the tower as a servant dressed him in his khaitan, the traditional dress of a druchii nobleman. His body was a pale milky color crisscrossed with grey scars, his hair and thick, curling beard as black as his cruel and greedy heart. The slaving season had just ended and the previous Vaulkhar of Clar Karond had died while at sea, leaving the hold's Drachau searching for a replacement for that venerable posting.

 

Usually, Laevyn's ambitions would have compelled him to pursue the office himself, but he had other plans this time - plans in the Old World, not the new one. 

 

---

 

Mythael Locelear Laevyn assembles a retinue comprising the majority of his men-at-arms, sailors and indentured servants. He takes his small fleet and begins to sail towards the Empire, the corsair lord seeking an audience with the Emperor, Konrad. 

 

 

[Narthok 10416]

(( is this dead?

[Kim 1328]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.