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The Predations of Chaos - WHFB RP

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Casavay, Apr 19, 2017.

  1. Saraph Midas Casavay Well-Known Member

    Stand united, or fall divided.

    A piece of wisdom so ancient that Man has doled it out even in the days of Heldenhammer, and yet unheeded. Civil war had once again ruled the Empire of Sigmar, greedy nobles warring their neighbours for titles, wealth, and old grudges. Their sword arm is mighty during their best days, and even when apart, every count can still muster a powerful force. Split, they are still predators. But where predators hunt each other, vultures gather.

    The vultures of the Old World are no cowardly, frail creatures, much to the misfortune of Franz' realm. They are not, for their home is a harsh land of cold and toil. Their gods are cruel, and capricious; just as likely to reward them as to smite them. Their allies, on any new dawn, may well become their next foes. Their neighbours are creatures and monstrosities - material of the stories to the Empire, but a gruesome, many-fanged, bestial reality to the Norscans. Death waits around any corner, and there are no walls of civilisation to hide behind. To them, the imperial citizens are fat, weak, and cowardly, just like their gods. Bringing the fire and devastation of their fell masters is an honour, even a pleasure, to them.

    Of course, the people of Nordland had far greater concerns than nordic culture when the host of the Ashen Charnel had crossed the Sea of Claws into their lands, currently untouched by war. With most soldiers away to lend aid to Middenland, there was nobody to protect them from the fire and steel of the Dark Gods. On a black ship they had come crashing into Dietershafen, at dawn, blades thirsty for blood. Many of the naked barbarians had been slain before the attack had even started – the marine, even outnumbered, standing their ground valiantly – but from the first moment the iron behemoths, the tenebrous knights of Chaos, set their feet upon land, it had been over. Ships exploded in the blaze of heretic magics, those who fought were slaughtered like pigs; the infirm, the elderly, the women and the children dragged off to some unspeakable fate. In the middle of it all, of the fire and blood, stood a tower of daemonic steel, blackened, easily dwarfing even the most stout of men. An image of nightmares, eternally carved into the minds of those souls that were next in line to be extinguished. A totem – a reminder of the fact that death was no escape. The Warmaster, overseeing the obliteration of hope, in the name of vile heresy. And yet, making not a single swipe of the blade, red-hot with daemonic energy; content to merely direct, it seemed, the horned titan was the eye of this storm of violence. Dietershafen was a formidable city, but it stood no chance against the savagery of these servants of darkness.

    Only with nightfall did this terrible heresy end, as the Ashen Charnel seemed content with who they had killed, what they had looted, and the dark shrines they had erected. The fires were burning their last when the sun was eaten by the sea, and beneath the embers, only stragglers, hounds, and, again, scavengers, were left behind now. What few survivors there were either scattering to the winds, lucky to still have their life, or tested Ranald's favour, trying to scrape together some semblance of their belongings before the raid. Most were slain for their foolishness; only a few succeeded to find even the barest of scraps beneath the corpse of civilisation. Meanwhile, the dark alleys were a source of horrific screaming as the last few ironclad warriors of Chaos – once Men, now so much more – walked through Dietershafen, once host to magnificient streets which were now dried rivers of blood and bile and the ruined remains of homes and hearths. Far beneath, one particular group of survivors remained.

    Juergen Schuster had not known these souls, but he had known that, as chief of Dietershafen's town guard, it was his duty to protect whoever walked a righteous path in his beloved port city. Now, these folks may not have seemed too righteous on the sunniest of days, but when compared with heathenry and these inhuman monstrosities, everything with a face still showing a bit of soul was fine to him. Schuster too was a tall man, broad-shouldered and with blue eyes full of idealism beneath the wide brim of his hat. Whenever he had patrolled the streets of Dietershafen, one could easily see how much he loved his people, this place, his task. Now, he seemed tired, and broken. The chief sat down on an overturned barrel in the mayor's wine cellar, looking at the group gathered before him. They weren't locals. They didn't fit. But he had saved them, by pure chance, by meeting them in the chaos and leading (or in the case of this odd dwarf, dragging) them into this deepest of rooms, hidden to all who would not know where to find it, far beneath the city hall. Mayor Kartenhaus' love for the vine (and fear of theft) had, in the end, proven their port in this storm. Of course, the jolly bag of fat was now dead, eviscerated, emasculated, and torn apart by these bloody-handed reavers. Schuhster'd not seen the deed, but the old man's screams had resounded through the din of destruction nonetheless, and even more, the brightly-uniformed guardsman had witnessed the beloved drunkard's remains put on display as a part of some odd shrine to their dark deities, alongside so many other familiar faces – often far removed from the bodies they belonged to.

    With his dull, blood-less sword dutifully lying next to him, Schuster looked around this cold room. Walls, ceiling and floors were rough stone, two torches trying their hardest to illuminate this chambre that was vast and claustrophobic at the same time – not too small to accommodate this group of eleven, but still cramped. Fat barrels of wine were companions of whole cupboards of smaller flasks and bottles; a white veil of cobwebs adorning them all. Eventually, he looked back to the ground, at his brown-stained boots; stroking his perfectly-trimmed copper beard, he raised his voice thoughtfully, not afraid of being heard by those above. “The raiders are slowly clearing out, but it isn't yet safe to leave, at least not if you don't have a right death wish.” He sighed. “Cover of night might be a blessing though. And after... after raiding all day, these beasts ought to need rest, don't they?”

    He asked nobody in particular, but as he looked up again, at his group, his eyes came to rest on the young blonde that was his charge – Kartenhaus' youngest daughter, who he'd managed to save, too. Now she sat on the cold stone ground, covered in dirt, her expensive dress all torn up, but still in a much better condition than the rest of her family: a far worse fate had befallen them. The poor girl – barely of marriageable age – was crying, and had been all day; not make a sound but sobs, she did. Unlike Schuster, she had witnessed her father's gruesome demise, and the commander knew. He didn't envy her.

    “How're you holding up, strangers?”, he finally asked after a long pause.

  2. Bossaroo bossaroo Well-Known Member

    Ulanov Vyacheslav was almost certainly the most enfuriated Kislevite in Dietershafen. In hindsight he was probably the only Kislevite in dietershafen. He grumbled and muttered in his mother tongue as that girl kept her weeping up they might be found. Sure the sight of what marauders did to folks was horrifying and gut-wrenching the first time maybe even the second but after years of seeing what these cowardly Ублюдки did to defenseless towns and stanistas the Stretlsi only felt rage , tears dried your throat and froze to your cheeks rage was much more useful.

    "I am fine , just like another day on the job" the soldier laughed as he stared down the sights of his handgun the barrel still blackened from earlier use facing at the door to the wine cellar as he used a barrel to steady his aim his ice grey eyes trained on the door. He took a deep breath but only smelt the musk of damp earth and sweat , not that rancid stench the marauders always carried with them so he relaxed allowed his mind to think about how he ended up here

    ( OOC : adding in translations for the russian i will end up using
    Ублюдки : Bastards )
  3. Maleth Maleth Subordinate

    Ashima Velarfar was one of the first to seek shelter within the wine cellar, given that to move in daylight, no matter the state of fog, smoke or cloud cover was to risk the end of her.... Status of existence. And well, that would not be a happy end for her.

    So she had the luxury to see the others come down into the darkness and therefore safety of the cellar, and the misfortune to be awake for an audio only version of the raid. The screams from above merely serving to grant her a fell mood over the likely mayhem up above ground that she had no ability to play a part in abating.

    The unnaturally pale Elf was sitting within one of the darker places of the Cellar, not risking to sit by a light unless she wanted to reveal herself. She was carrying all of her weapons, from her dagger and hand crossbow up to both a greatsword and a warhammer, as well as all her other belongings, wearing her plate armour to ensure she had some physical protection and her locket hanging from her neck, a golden piece of jewellery.

    But for now, Ashima hadn't drawn any weapons expect her pistol, keeping it trained upon the entrance to the wine cellar in case someone who wasn't remotely friendly came inside. Magic was obviously, out of the question given that she was sure no-one else in this cramped space would be willing to keep her alive if they started asking questions about her ability to use magic in plate armour.

    Suffice to say, she was also having to keep a fair distance from the daughter, her tears proving a great discomfort for the being of the night due to the virtue of the person shedding them and in all fairness, there was certainly one other person, a Warrior Priest(ess?) that she didn't want to be near for all the obvious reasons.

    However, the Guard captain then asked a question (a welcome distraction from all of the day's events), to which she replied, somewhat morose in tone "I suppose nightfall shall make it easier for us all, considering that we're highly unlikely to get anywhere alive unless we stick together."
  4. Valonox Valonox Preacher

    Trinity was the last barely to make it or die defending herself, but also she made it just in time to the cellar of the gruesome assault, covered in the dried blood of her fellow man as well as Beastmen. She sat quietly keep a rather large shield that a normal solider wouldn't dare wield along with a maul that had been finely crafted right next to her as she sat on one of the kegs reading a book of some sort but you could tell she was a warrior of the church proudly displaying a Pendant of Sigmar on her Gorget odd for a priest not dying for the cause but she probably knew better...

    She only looked at the other people in the room with a questioning stare waiting for someone to make an action in any form but everyone sat quietly awaiting for the hell that was to blow over. Then the Guard and the first to speak up was an unnatural pale elf that seeming wanted to keep far away from her she had no care was the first to speak, but what she said was very sound and Trinity spoke. "I agree with the Elf under the cover of night we would survive longer especially with civilians with no compatibility."
  5. Zacharia had only entered the town recently before the invasion and was wearing a cloak around himself and refrained from wearing his hat. Best to keep his position a secret he supposed as most people would be uneasy with just the word that one of his profession was passing through. His hood was up to keep his head covered but it did little to hide his face and head full of long black hair with an equally long bear. A scar across his nose and lips along with his cold emotionless eyes and a face that was a permanent scowl mad early it clear he wasn't the most social or pleasant person in the room along his his size. Of course the elves in the room would rival his height but they were graceful and beautifully built he was rough and cold. Something that was a given for a veteran Witch Hunter, he stood near the other two pointing firearms at the door with two of his many pistols trained on the door as well. His rapier sheathed and secured on his belt and hidden by the cloak long with his other tools.

    He wasn't effected by the day's happening like the others in fact he felt nothing which he realized was inappropriate given the innocence of the victims of the northern barbarians. But by this point emotions such as sadness were distant to him and all that was left was cold and unfeeling. It was better that way in his opinion, less distractions and more time to foucus on eradication the dark arts and the heretics that practice them. Though he still felt annoyance and wished for the young woman would stop crying, her blithering would attract the drooling mongrels of chaos and they were in no shape to repulse them. A few of the other survivors were talking amonster themselves and he only offered a nod. He passively observed the strangers around him from the Kiselvite and Pale Elf also aiming their weapons at the door to the ones seated.
  6. Victus Jammysod Well-Known Member

    "Now now. It'll be alright my dear."

    Hugo knelt before the crying girl, extending a hand and gently patting her on the shoulder, his other hand gripping his staff tightly. Despite his decades of experience combating Chaos in the name of the Grey Order he still had time to spare a moment to try to comfort a troubled soul unlike his somewhat colder traveling companion, Zacharia, and he was also much less afraid of making it perfectly clear that he was Wizard. However like him Hugo was also relatively unaffected by the horrors he'd surely witnessed throughout the day; the sad end result of serving in the Imperial military and already knowing the threat of Chaos all too well.

    Still patting the girl, Hugo looked over at the Commander and cleared his throat to get the man's attention before speaking up. "Well in my opinion while it's all well and good suggesting we go under the cover of darkness we may find far, far worse things than marauders and other bloodthirsty savages roaming the streets if we tarry too long here. Is there some alternate path? A way into a sewer or the like such as an escape hatch, perhaps? I know it's not exactly a glamorous or particularly daring way to make our escape but there might be less of them down there and it would certainly be hard for those above to find us." He briefly stopped patting the girl on the shoulder to run his finger through his long, thick beard as he took a breath, "We may not make it into song or strike down anywhere near as many of... them by taking that way out but better that than us not making it out at all."
  7. Wata Wata Arkhona Vanguard

    Daenas Youngfang was in bit of a shock. If this was what his curiosity and recklessness had bought him, he wanted none of it. He preferred Aleth Loren, oh so much more than this damp, dark and cold cellar.
    He hadn't much wept for the humans that got slaughtered but still witnessing the brutalities of chaos...he didn't wish that for anyone.

    Youngfang took position in the most illuminated area and crouched, leaning on his spear and stared at the floor. He wanted out and soon. This cellar felt oppressive after experiencing the freedom of flight.
    "H-how long you think we have to stay here?"
    Daenas didn't notice his stutter but he was growing anxious.
  8. BlackNecron BlackNecron Arkhona Vanguard

    Tsesh was irritated.

    Tsesh may have been prepared that something would happen when he arrived, given he was here by a hint of Phakht himself that an old enemy would appear here, but he had expected to have more time preparing for it. He had even comissioned a new chariot to bring glorious vengeance upon his enemy, but that was out of the question now.

    Tsesh had been on his way to check on the progress of his new vehicle as the host arrived. Some overzealous marauders had crossed his path as they were rading the city, just to promply be slain by his mighty Khopesh, when he was found by this guard chief and brought into this hiding hole. At first Tsesh was disgusted that Schuster suggested running away from the enemy, but upon further explanation he had finally agreed that, in the current situation, it was better to secure as many forces for a counterattack as possible.
    He had not preserved his kingdom for so long by being a fool. But that did't change his dislike about it.

    Now he was here, his gilded armaments already stained in battle (although he had found the time to clean them while waiting), his funeral mask ready to send awe in his enemies minds, and surrounded by strange-looking warriors, civilians, and whatever else. The crying woman was less of a problem: Tsesh had seen daughters, mothers and wifes weeping for their family often enough, and it was her good right to mourn. At least until the time of mourning was over, and the time of sepulture was upon them.
    What annoyed him was the small number of forces they had gathered. But depending on the quality, maybe they still had a chance.

    As he was sizing up the worth of his new "army", a voice came forth from the deepest shadows of the cellar. Suprised, Tsesh's head whipped around to see that another presence had gone unnoticed. What he witnessed in that moment was one of the strangest sights he had ever stumbled upon: A tall woman with a stature that was unfitting for a warrior, but more than fitting the description of a dancer, clad in thick plate armour, far heavier than anything she should be able to wear. Unlike the warrior priestess, who at least looked the part. But that was not all, this enigma was also cluttered in weapons, carrying both a gigantic sword and an impressive warhammer, in her hands something they called a pistol, and more. He counted a sword, a spear, shield, axe, flail, and some smaller weapons.

    By the cruel winds of Khsar, how does she even move in this!?

    Only on second look, he noticed her almost white skin, and, more importantly, her sharp ears. Shaking his head to get rid of this shock, he turned back towards the group and answered, with a thick Nehekkaharan accent.

    "You are right. It might not be as glorious, but a war is not always won purely through glory." Even if it feels wrong. But the anger can be useful.
    First, we should size up our new forces and regroup, am I right, Chief? SO, let us gather up what we have so far. Some of you...let's say their skills are rather obvious. But it won't help us if we don't know each others strenghts. And I am talking to our concealed part of the group. What are you supposed to be.", as he pointed toward Hugo,"Can you fight? And you, pale one, I nearly did not see you. Come closer, if you are even able to."
  9. Kendrak awakened, his last memory before everything had gorne dark had been the wide side of a two-handed axe, swung from a foe he haddn't quiet seen during his maddened and dauntless charge into a group of warriors.
    As he opened his eyes and sat up, he could only curse, once again he had failed in his quest, what dishoner.
    Stopping his short time brooding for now, as his eyes started adjusting, the fast he saw was his axes where still chained to his arms, he was in a dark basement, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness, as he emidiatly lept up in surprise at the things present, his axes quickly in hand, elves, undead and humans, "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS" he yelled, as he readied for a fight once more, he new someone had moved him, or else he wouldn't be here, but this wasn't right something off.
    At first he slowly backed towards a wall to accent the situation, then they would know the fury of a slayer.

    OOC: proper ready :p
  10. Maleth Maleth Subordinate

    With others starting to speak mostly about getting out of here Ashima was happy to just listen, and see if there was a consensus building over how they'd escape from here. She seemed to not be phased by the Dwarf's outburst, but then again she was confidant that everyone else could make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

    However, being directly addressed by one of the more odd-looking (and sounding) member of what could be a motely team (considering they had a mutual goal of survival) which lead her to reply: ( @BlackNecron )
    "If you were unable to see me, then that's good as it shows I'm still able to be stealthy, despite all the things of mine I have to carry. Still, I'm just fine where I am."

    Then there was another elf, who certainly seemed unaccustomed to the world given the stutter, so the pale Elf said to him, attempting a reassuring smile ( @Wata ) "Well I think we don't even need to stay down here any longer, if we get moving soon. After all, staying here wouldn't be the wisest thing to do." (She was omitting the fact that would entail her having to hide her feeding within the large group and a confined space.)

    And finally, there was the suggestion from someone the being of night would peg as a Wizard, most likely Grey in wind usage that they took a more stealthy approach, to whom she said ( @Jammysod )
    "That's all well and good, but I think those barbarians would expect everyone to be using the sewers to avoid them. It may seem counter intuitive, but perhaps taking the streets would be the safer option, given that they wouldn't expect such a brazen show of force, and there's probably enough fighters within our group that we can fight our way out if needs be."

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