Aye, sorry, fanily emergency has me at the hopsital.
DELETED32084 Banned
- Last Seen: 3 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 920 (0.27 / day)
- VMs: 2
-
Username history
- DELETED32084 3 yrs ago
- ██████████ 6 yrs ago
- ██████████████ 6 yrs ago
- ████████ 9 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Roderick hurried through the muddy streets of Lorch, a fitting name for a pimple of a town on the banks of the Talabec River, his long brown robes trailing in the filth. The streets were mostly empty save for a few children scavenging for food and a party of soldiers trying to repair the garrisons only cannon after it had been blasted from the wall. He nodded to them as he hurried past but none paid him any heed except to spit in his direction.
The Priests of Sigmar were nominally neutral in this fight between Imperial subjects. As a result the small chapel he called home still had a few pieces of wood furniture and a small stockpile of bread. He could understand why they would resent him as their friends and family died on the walls and in the streets while he sheltered behind the chapel walls.
His hurried steps carried him past the smithy, now cold and disconsolate since they had run out of coal. It was sad, he had always enjoyed finding his way into the warmth during happier times to listen to the village gossip and enjoy an ale with the farmers visiting town. He thought he saw Brandt's shadow in the darkness but did not veer from his path to visit. Even here he might not be welcome.
He rounded the corner and felt himself relax slightly as he caught sight of the chapel door. He pushed the heavy wood open and stepped inside. It was a small building, large enough to fit the full time residents of the keep. Today it only had a pair of women praying to Sigmar for salvation. He privately thought it was a waste of time, why would Sigmar chose one side or the other in this fight? It wasn't as though they were besieged by Chaos or Beastmen.
There was a single window at the rear of the chapel that looked out over the river, a weak light shining down on a plain white altare adorned with only two items. The first was a silver hammer with a red stone fitted into the side. Roderick knew that it was a simple war hammer tricked out with silver and a blood stone to look like it was something impressive. The second item was a Book of Sigmar, the holy book of his order. He had been permitted to leaf through it once or twice before when Father Gerwig was to drunk to read it himself.
He bowed to the altar and was headed for his small room at the rear of the chapel when he heard the bell. It was a small one, mounted atop the walls to sound a warning, and it was ringing as though it could repel an attack by the noise alone. He turned and hurried back to where his own bellrope hung from the high ceiling, throwing his considerable weight on the cord so that the heavy bell above him thundreded out its warning.
The enemy was coming.
The Priests of Sigmar were nominally neutral in this fight between Imperial subjects. As a result the small chapel he called home still had a few pieces of wood furniture and a small stockpile of bread. He could understand why they would resent him as their friends and family died on the walls and in the streets while he sheltered behind the chapel walls.
His hurried steps carried him past the smithy, now cold and disconsolate since they had run out of coal. It was sad, he had always enjoyed finding his way into the warmth during happier times to listen to the village gossip and enjoy an ale with the farmers visiting town. He thought he saw Brandt's shadow in the darkness but did not veer from his path to visit. Even here he might not be welcome.
He rounded the corner and felt himself relax slightly as he caught sight of the chapel door. He pushed the heavy wood open and stepped inside. It was a small building, large enough to fit the full time residents of the keep. Today it only had a pair of women praying to Sigmar for salvation. He privately thought it was a waste of time, why would Sigmar chose one side or the other in this fight? It wasn't as though they were besieged by Chaos or Beastmen.
There was a single window at the rear of the chapel that looked out over the river, a weak light shining down on a plain white altare adorned with only two items. The first was a silver hammer with a red stone fitted into the side. Roderick knew that it was a simple war hammer tricked out with silver and a blood stone to look like it was something impressive. The second item was a Book of Sigmar, the holy book of his order. He had been permitted to leaf through it once or twice before when Father Gerwig was to drunk to read it himself.
He bowed to the altar and was headed for his small room at the rear of the chapel when he heard the bell. It was a small one, mounted atop the walls to sound a warning, and it was ringing as though it could repel an attack by the noise alone. He turned and hurried back to where his own bellrope hung from the high ceiling, throwing his considerable weight on the cord so that the heavy bell above him thundreded out its warning.
The enemy was coming.
-DISREGARD RANDO DOUBLE POST-
ALL - I'll be moving the main plotline along today or tomorrow if Byrd Man doesn't so please keep on hammering away at your own storylines if you can!
@Eviledd1984 Would you mind terribly proof reading your posts please? We're not expecting George RR Martin level skill here but you're leaving out entire words and I think it takes away from the post when you're reading and something is missing. Glad to see you engaging another PC though!
@Eviledd1984 Would you mind terribly proof reading your posts please? We're not expecting George RR Martin level skill here but you're leaving out entire words and I think it takes away from the post when you're reading and something is missing. Glad to see you engaging another PC though!
Solomon was whistling quietly to himself as he worked away in the empty shell of a house that fronted on the main avenue that ran through the city. There were other roads of course but this one ran directly out from the castle and was the only one large enough to accomodate the vampires carriages for the first block or two. It made completely probable then, that at some point, this Prince Edward would travel along its length.
The house Solomon now sat in, along save for his thoughts and a large leather square covered in various tools, lit by four heavily shielded lanterns, was of heavy stone. It would take an earthquake to bring the building down. Thankfully, Solomon knew something about making an earthquake. Not an actual earth movement mind you, but he knew how to make gunpowder and so here he was building an explosive device that would essentially blow the front of the house onto anything passing by. It was a tediously exact science and one that often killed its own maker.
He had been making the black powder in the home of his mistress and it was so unknown here in these hell shaped lands that no one, not even she, thought to question what he was doing. The small package he had obtained a day or two previously had been the final touches, bought from a merchant who clearly had no idea what he was carrying. Only exposing the "Wonders of a burning and sparking snake". Idiot. He had been worried he would have to make his own fuses but some enterprising fool had saved him the trouble.
The house was empty save for his workstation and a bedroll in one corner that held his pack, food for several days, and a very comfy blanket and pillow he had taken from his mistress. No doubt she would not require them now that she was nothing but dust. He had taken the stake he had used to kill her before he slaughtered the servants. Not that it had been difficult. Most had been old and the younger ones were all hobbled so they could not flee far. Means to an end, and he did not need his identity to be revealed by anyone until his work was done.
He carefully began to pour the black powder into a ceramic jar he had purchased, one of a half dozen. He would stack extra stones around them when they were ready to try and direct the blast outward. Much of the force of the explosion would be lost in the empty house but there would be sufficient to send the entire facade of the house flying across the street, blasting the carriage off of its wheels, killing any human guards. He would be on hand of course to finish off Edward, just as he had the miserable brother.
His gaze drifted to a pair of small plain wooden boxes. Each looked large enough to hold a big apple. But inside them were his most valuable weapons and he hoped he would not have to use them. They would be the ideal tool for killing the Vampire King. Nothing, no beast of evil, no undead dragon, could survive such a weapon and only a select few existed.
He smiled to himself. His time would come. They would all die. Even Ulrek.
The house Solomon now sat in, along save for his thoughts and a large leather square covered in various tools, lit by four heavily shielded lanterns, was of heavy stone. It would take an earthquake to bring the building down. Thankfully, Solomon knew something about making an earthquake. Not an actual earth movement mind you, but he knew how to make gunpowder and so here he was building an explosive device that would essentially blow the front of the house onto anything passing by. It was a tediously exact science and one that often killed its own maker.
He had been making the black powder in the home of his mistress and it was so unknown here in these hell shaped lands that no one, not even she, thought to question what he was doing. The small package he had obtained a day or two previously had been the final touches, bought from a merchant who clearly had no idea what he was carrying. Only exposing the "Wonders of a burning and sparking snake". Idiot. He had been worried he would have to make his own fuses but some enterprising fool had saved him the trouble.
The house was empty save for his workstation and a bedroll in one corner that held his pack, food for several days, and a very comfy blanket and pillow he had taken from his mistress. No doubt she would not require them now that she was nothing but dust. He had taken the stake he had used to kill her before he slaughtered the servants. Not that it had been difficult. Most had been old and the younger ones were all hobbled so they could not flee far. Means to an end, and he did not need his identity to be revealed by anyone until his work was done.
He carefully began to pour the black powder into a ceramic jar he had purchased, one of a half dozen. He would stack extra stones around them when they were ready to try and direct the blast outward. Much of the force of the explosion would be lost in the empty house but there would be sufficient to send the entire facade of the house flying across the street, blasting the carriage off of its wheels, killing any human guards. He would be on hand of course to finish off Edward, just as he had the miserable brother.
His gaze drifted to a pair of small plain wooden boxes. Each looked large enough to hold a big apple. But inside them were his most valuable weapons and he hoped he would not have to use them. They would be the ideal tool for killing the Vampire King. Nothing, no beast of evil, no undead dragon, could survive such a weapon and only a select few existed.
He smiled to himself. His time would come. They would all die. Even Ulrek.
Roderick Walch
21 years of age
Priest of Sigmar
21 years of age
Priest of Sigmar
The Town of Lorch had suffered the privations of the siege for nearly four months. Nestled on the banks of the Reik River, the small motte and bailey fort has always offered small protection to the collection of families who call the town home, from marauding brigandes to lurking beastmen. Ruled over by Count Egon Seidl, it has not seen his shadow in nearly a year as he wages a small war with his neighbour, Count Gerad Wendl, as each seeks to absorb the other.
Wendl has stolen a march and sent a small force, under command of his son Gerwin Wendl, to take Lorch by surprise. The initial attack has failed and Gerwin has settled his men in for a siege. But winter is coming and Count Wendl needs some sort of victory to show for the money he has spent on the campaign and orders Gerwin to take Lorch before the first snows. Disease has begun to ravish the besieging forces and the garrison is starving.
It is from these terrible conditions, in a minor border skirmish between Imperial subjects, that two men will emerge as unlikely heroes of the Empire.
This is their story.
One x One roleplay between myself and @Blueskin. If you read it, and are interested in how it progresses, please feel free to subscribe and leave us comments in the OOC.
© 2007-2026