In Warhammer Fantasy as my ERP Character

102

Back within Middenheim, in the afternoon after the twin-tailed comet passes, Graf Boris' army is preparing to march. The chaos of the winds of magic have gorged plenty of daemons all over the Empire, many assassinations and other dark rituals performed just in Middenheim alone. But this is not an army to reinforce the surrounding towns and settlements. No, this is an army for witch hunts. The new wizard division led by Bertrand that just returned in time is immediately divided into the many smaller armies moving to secure the province and to hunt down heretics. The wizards inclusion is of course met with suspicion by the armies themselves as another reason is for the armies to watch over the wizards for signs of corruption and heresy and dividing them into smaller groups make them more manageable.

“Are you insane?” Bertrand follows Faris in brisk walking pace, the witch hunter captain that has served alongside him within the wizard division. “Graf's decision to move the army this winter is bad enough and you are still going to Altdorf to deliver some madman’s message?”

“Is that why you don’t deliver the message to Graf Boris?” Faris packs more supplies and weapons for himself. “Tell me, does Captain Grimwald look mad to you?” He stops and seriously address Bertrand

“No, but who knows if what he said is some hallucinations from chewing Weirdroot.” He tries to dissuade the witch hunter.

“I have heard stranger things.”

“And what am I supposed to say? That Rhya and Taal returned and that they favored some beastmen in Drakwald? Which was led by a daemon? He would sooner march the entire army to the accursed forest than believing what I said!” 

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Then why are you going? It would be suicide.” It would take two weeks the fastest to reach Altdorf in Spring. But now it is winter, with blizzard coming in and daemonic incursion to add.

“I appreciate your concern, but I have my own method. I wouldn’t argue your decision on not reporting to Graf Boris." Both know Graf Boris' temperament and his enmity towards a certain beastmen with one eye within Drakwald. “But this is not a matter to be decided on our own. Besides, if it's the Emperor, he might be able to prepare something.”

Faris finished packing. Mostly winter clothing, plenty of guns and ammunition, and few bottles of holy water. 

“That’s everything?” Bertrand asks, noticing the distinct lack of food supplies.

“I have an acquaintance.” Faris said, not explaining further.

“Fine! Have it your way!” Bertrand storms off in rage. He didn’t even get an offer to accompany him. Not that he might be able to, seeing that he is reinstated into the army and doing so without any permission is deserting. Faris heaved a sigh, he knew if he asked, Bertrand might follow him as he had come to trust him. Losing an entire division you have served for a long time can do that to a person. But Faris knows this is for the best, Bertrand has his worldview shaken up plenty of times in a short amount of time, and he especially doesn't want him to meet his family.

In the Middenheim Brotkopfs district, Faris stopped in one of the big mansions near the Merchant’s Guild. It is his family home, but he always hated returning. But this message might need to be delivered to Altdorf as soon as possible and as secure as possible. Entering the mansion, he was immediately greeted and welcomed by the mansion’s servants and butler. She knows he’s here.

“Faris,” said an old fat man in gaudy merchant clothes on the stairs to the second floor, graying hair but not balding yet. “Always return whenever you want something I see.”

“I need to get to Altdorf as soon as possible.” Faris said to no one in particular, not even bothering to address his father. He frowns and brushes off at the servants trying to take his mantle and bag to make him stay.

“Look Faris, you are growing old. Maybe it's time for you to inherit the family business? Settle down? Get married?” the fat man said in concern as he walked down the stairs.

“I really need your help for this one.” Again Faris said but not to his father or the gathering servants. Then all the light within the hall was blown out by the cold wind.

“Leave us.” A young female voice sounded from the second floor overlooking the main entrance. She is in a plain sleeping dress, as if just waking up. All the servants immediately bowed and left. Even his father left without a word not using the stairs he came down from but went through the back.

“Brother.” A young woman, with a face similar to his own but much younger. She smiled warmly seeing his brother return.

“Fraulein.” Faris addresses his twin sister but in a much colder tone.

“Why the hurry?” Fraulein’s voice came from behind him. But he has got used to it. “Can’t you stay longer?” She pleaded with her twin brother who looks so much older that it is much appropriate if they are seen as father and daughter instead.

“This is important.”

“Important like the necromancer near the Sokh?” Fraulein peek forward from behind to see her brother’s face. “The mutant enclave near Dunsen?” She starts circling her brother, moving around seductively. 

“Or the Tzeentchian dagger owned by one of Ulric’s priests a few weeks ago?” The three are just a few of many of Faris’ achievements in his career as a witch hunter. All thanks to his sister. Or more importantly, it helps the agenda of his sister’s master, the Lahmian Sisterhood. The only reason he didn’t kill his sister and act according to the vampire’s agenda is because he recognizes that they also hate chaos. At least that is his justification.

“I think my previous report should satisfy them for now.” Fraulein bobs her head back, hiding her irate face from her beloved brother. But still, what he said is correct, his report on his time supervising the new wizard division is good enough. Particularly on that golden beastmen gathering in Laurelorn. Besides, her posting in Middenheim has been very boring. Surely the sisterhood will allow a small visit.

“What’s the magic word?” She return all smiles and such

“How fast?”

“Depends. How long can you hold your breath?”

“Then please.” Faris finally said the word.

“I will expect some gift in return.”

“Very well.” Fraulein raises her eyebrows in surprise. He never gave up this easily before and it made her very curious on what her brother is up to.

“I will hold your word.” She said as she summoned her shadow steed using her magic.

—

A small white fleet enters the city of Altdorf from the north through River Reik. Ten elven ships sailing in a row of three, each ship from each High Elven Kingdom. Escorting the one leading ship with the banner of Avelorn. The freezing water of River Reik which narrows the breadth of river flow melted to make way for the fleet. Reikland citizens gather beside the two sides of the river, watching the fleet enter. Though they can’t see much as soldiers posted to cover the entire length of the river within the city including the bridges connecting the two parts of the city. A show of force and to also reassure the people that the lastest string of incidents is well taken care of. But they all know that it is something very important as an entire royal procession led by the Emperor Karl Franz himself waiting for the fleet to dock at the fortified port in front of the royal palace. Even the patriarchs from all colleges of magic who are available are present. 

Those who are present are Balthazsar Gelt from the Gold College (Metal), Tochter Grunfeld from Jade College (Life), Raphael Julevno from Celestial College (Heaven), Sergov Pfeiffer from Bright College (Fire), even Gregor Martak who seldom seen from Amber Brotherhood (Beast) are present. Ashamira, the Matriarch of the Light College (Light), frequently leaves to travel and other missions. Lord Immanuel-Ferrand Holswig-Schliesten, being the Grey Guardian (Shadow), High Chancellor, and also the uncle of Emperor Karl Franz is busy elsewhere within the city for plenty is his responsibility. While Lady Elspeth Von Draken of the Amethyst College (death), ignores the college summons as usual. Which makes this a very important occasion as rarely half of all eight patriarchs from the colleges of magic ever present in matters not concerning their college or the selection for the next Supreme Patriarch. 

Gregor Martak is very annoyed. There were too many people here. He moved his fingers so that his fingernails tapped the surface of his hand as he grip his staff. He was supposed to wait for some messenger but now he is sweeped into this mess as someone very important from Ulthuan is arriving. Probably some prince, or might be Teclis. Please be Teclis, he is less annoying than the rest. His visions have been getting worse but a message to wait for some messenger is clear. He uses his other hand to stroke his long scraggly beard, the sensation anchoring him to the present so that his mind does not wander to his visions again. Also distracting him from the heat building up beside him as he has the unfortunate position to stand between Sergov and Balthazar Gelt. The Patriarch of the Bright College still flaring up whenever Balthazar Gelt is present ever since he has not claimed the position of Supreme patriarch to Gelt. He also thinks that Gelt shrewdly picks this position so that he is between him and Sergov. Though he might be overthinking it again. But it's a possibility. The elven ships finally docks at the fortified port. He sure hopes the messenger is not arriving today, because he damn sure he will be too busy dealing with every annoying thing on earth. He sent a few other shamans on the outside of Altdorf to wait for the messenger. He doesn't know much but if the vision of the messenger is clear, his shamans would surely also notice. Either the messenger is touched by the Amber winds or extremely conspicuous. Surely the former. Surely. He looks down to count some rock.

Then a collective breath halted. Gregor wide eyed looked at Sergov who had mellowed down his heat. Then to Gelt. He forgot he can’t see his face from the mask he always wears. Then he looks forward to seeing the female elf escorted by handmaidens. The elf has long golden blond hair, her countenance warmer than the usual cold and arrogant elves. He didn’t bother thinking of her beauty as frankly for him, most of the elves looked the same. Gregor doesn’t understand all the bluster, did everyone else never seen an elf or something. Though he admits, her presence calms everyone present, even the winds of magic. Though still he is much more pleased as he notices Teclis amongst the entourage arriving. His tall War Crown of Saphery is unmistakable. Karl Frans loud voice breaks the reverie and the surrounding knights and soldiers offer their salute. 

“The people of the Empire welcome you, Aliathra, Everchild of Ulthuan.” Only after hearing the Emperor’s word does Gregor know what’s happening. The daughter of the Phoenix King and the Everqueen herself have arrived.

—

In the northern chaos wastes, horns sounded. Thousands of Norscan gather. Hundreds of which wore very ornate black metal armors and accursed weaponry. Slaves whipped and sacrificed in the thousands to make hundreds of ships to pass the narrow sea of claws. All across the coast, similar things happened. Dozens of Norscan tribes preparing to invade the Empire, ignoring the call of Archaon the Everchosen. So what if he is chosen, the End Times is here and glory waits for no one.