Gnome Alone

I had a package arrive this week which encouraged me to take a short break from trudging through my War of 1812 backlog and prompted me to make a bit of progress on some other overlooked projects.

For those with aging eyes, that's a Gnome on a fishing boat by a jetty.

This is a rendition of my character in a D&D campaign I've been participating in for a couple of months: a Gnome Rogue called Waldo 'Nimblefingers' Redcap.

The miniature is a Garden Gnome Assassin from 3DResinprintstore on Etsy - a seller I highly recommend you check out as they have an eclectic range of reasonably priced miniatures available, delivery was really fast (and free in the UK) and the print quality is excellent.

The sculpt is really charismatic and simply done, without lots of extraneous detail to faff about with. This is exactly how I like miniatures as it leads to a more chilled out experience and I put a bit more time into highlighting than usual.

This is the first resin 3D printed miniature I've bought and I'll be honest, considering the price and quality of this I can for the first time see the existential threat 3D printing potentially represents to traditional miniature manufacturers.

I'm not sure I'll ever start printing for myself, but my head has definitely been turned towards Etsy when hunting for something specific.

Having said that, there will always be a place for tradition shopping in my heart as I stumbled on this Wizkids Deep Cut boat whilst browsing in Patriot Games, one of several FLGS in Sheffield (we are really well served here).

I've been wanting a boat as a piece of terrain for the second scenario for Lurkers from the Deep for 7TV and the larger Wizkids pieces are hard-wearing and easy to paint.

I figure this won't look out of place in Carnevale or other 7TV Fantasy games either.

Painting the boat also nudged me into getting these MDF jetties from Warbases done at the same time. I've had them a while, bought specifically for Lurkers from the Deep, and I think I might actually get that game played soon.

Easy to build, easy to paint, lots of potential uses. Winner.

Another healthy bit of progress made, and I haven't totally ignored the War of 1812 project either, but as Napoleonics are the very definition of extraneous detail on miniatures, things are moving somewhat slower.

Acquired: 116

Painted: 184

The Hammer Falls

Continuing our Border Princes WFRP campaign, the companions (Wolfgang the Camp Follower, Rudiger the Zealot, Garil the Dwarf Jailer and Heinz the disgraced Noble) have been tasked by their new prince, Dieter von Masserschloss, with recapturing a ruined castle taken by the forces of his enemy, known only as Dhouda.

With only the small company of barely-trained spearman the group had mustered from Imperial refugees (along with their families in toe) a way must be found to drive the enemy from the castle to prove their worth to Dieter and reclaim it as a new home for the soldiers and their families.

The cold water splashed around Heinz Castel's ankles as he, Wolfgang Braun and Rudiger Reich dug earth, moved rocks and placed fallen branches at the direction of Garil Ragnarsson, in an attempt to dam the small stream.

He wasn't happy.

Heinz didn't view himself as well suited to manual labour. His feet were cold, his arms were sore and his hands were muddy. What was more, his idea of creating a distraction by sending a burning raft down the stream towards the ruined castle had been ignored, even ridiculed. Heinz was normally easy going and calm, but an unusual anger was festering in the pit of his stomach.

Instead of creating a diversion, the others had decided to follow Rudiger's plan of damming the stream to draw some of the inhabitants of the ruin to investigate the cause, and then capture and interrogate them about the defences before attacking.

Heinz knew it was a better plan than his. That's why he was angry.

"That should do it," called the Dwarven stonemason. Heinz had thought he'd been a jailer, but apparently all Dwarfs were trained in at least one craft or trade in their youth. Heinz wondered if the mathematical lessons his father had insisted he sit through with his tutor would ever be useful in this godsforsaken backwater they had found themselves in.

"It's not totally watertight," continued Garil, "but it should be enough to get their attention." The Dwarf looked wryly on their construction. He was glad none of his kin were around to pass judgement on the shoddy workmanship, but it was all they could manage without tools or a skilled workforce. It would serve.

"Now all we need to do is wait," said Rudiger grimly as he walked over to where the murderous looking flail he wielded with such deadly skill was propped against a tree.

"And hide too?" put in Wolfgang, "It's no good if they see us and leg it back to warn others."

Garil nodded sagely, "Aye, true. We need them to get close and all strike on the same signal."

"I'll wait nearer the castle," said Heinz curtly, and stomped off, swinging his crossbow onto his back.

Wolfgang stared after him, "what's troubling him?"

*** 

Heinz must have been the first to see them approach, but from his vantage point in a nearby tree, it was only moments later that Wolfgang saw the two cloaked and hooded figures moving through the trees along the line of the stream that had been reduced to a trickle.

They didn't seem too alarmed as neither of the men had drawn their blades, and both had bows across their backs. They were walking without speaking as they passed beneath Wolfgang, but didn't seem to be looking around them, and were instead intent on the stream.

When they got into view of the dam, Wolfgang saw them quicken their pace and run. In mere moments they would be between the points on either side of the stream where Rudiger and Garil had hidden themselves.

Wolfgang was supposed to give the signal at the right moment. Too early, and there would be too much space between the ambushers that their quarry might escape through. Too late, and the men would clearly see where the clumsy Dwarf had squatted down behind a rock thinking he was hidden.

He was just about to call when the silence was broken by a twanging sound, followed by a whistle and a thud as one of the two men was pitched forward with a crossbow bolt embedded in his skull.

Heinz hadn't waited.

Wolfgang scrambled out of the tree, desperate to reach the second man before he could turn tail and run.

However, he needn't have worried. Rudiger came barreling from the man's left, and before the hooded figure could get his blade free from his scabbard, had swung his flail low, taking the man's legs from him, dumping him on the ground.

Before he could clamber to his feet, a solid lump of Dwarf dropped onto his chest, pinning the thrashing man in place.

"Calm down lad, we just want to talk."

*** 

"That was a damn fine shot, don't you think?" said Heinz as he sauntered up, his frustrations now swallowed by his self-satisfaction.

"Yes," said Wolfgang as they trudged towards where Rudiger and Garil were wrestling with the man on the ground, "if you ignore the fact we wanted them alive."

"What's the problem? We've got one of them."

"Aye, and if you two would stop yer yapping and help us, we might be able to question him," snapped Garil from on top if the man, "I can't even tell what he's saying."

Wolfgang, remembering the voices he'd heard the night before, spoke firmly in the heavily accented Bretonnian he'd learned as a boy, "stop struggling or you'll end up like your friend."

At the sound of Wolfgang's words, the man's struggles lessened, "get this thing off me!"

"Only when you've calmed down," replied Wolfgang.

"Okay, okay."

The man stopped moving. Garil clambered off him and he came up on to his knees. Rudiger stood menacingly behind the man, whose hood had fallen to reveal a weathered face, with a broad nose that had been broken at least once. Heinz slowly and carefully reloaded his crossbow in full view of the man before pointing it at his frightened face.

"Tell us what we want to know, and you might get out of this alive," said Wolfgang.

"You won't kill me?"

"I won't kill you."

The man looked around at the others for some sort of reassurance, but saw only grim, impassive faces. He nodded.

*** 

The interrogation turned out to be easier than Wolfgang had imagined. He'd feared having to witness some of the things Garil had said he'd learned in the jails of Delberz to get the man to crack. The Bretonnian seemed to have little loyalty to his comrades and openly told of there being only a dozen of them in the ruin, not enough to hold the broken walls against determined assault.

They were a scouting party from Dhouda's forces, and their orders were to lay low during the coming campaign and be a staging post for future raids and incursions into Dieter's lands.

After Wolfgang relayed what had been said to his companions, Garil asked, "do you believe him?"

"I don't think he's got a good reason to lie," replied Wolfgang, "what he said seems likely and matches what we've seen so far, and he knows we'll kill him if we find out he's lying. I think he's a mercenary who just wants to live."

"That's a shame," said Rudiger.

"What do you mean?" asked Wolfgang.

"We don't have men spare to guard him, and we have orders from Dieter."

Wolfgang's face fell as he looked to the emotionless faces of his comrades. The Bretonnian clearly understood some of the exchange and asked in a worried tone, "now I've told you, you'll let me go, yes?"

Wolfgang looked sadly at him, "no, I'm sorry."

Horror sprang into the man's eyes, "but you said..."

Wolfgang turned away as Rudiger raised his flail.

"I only said I wouldn't kill you."

*** 

Rudiger was poised, ready to strike. His faithful flock of Sigmarite warriors were crouched in the undergrowth behind him along with Garil and Wolfgang. They would attack over the rubble of the ruined north tower and drive the defenders before them.

Heinz had taken a handful of men in a flanking attack through the other ruined tower to the southeast. Their job was to hit any determined resistance from behind.

Rudiger knew he would have to strike hard and fast. The small company of men they had briefly trained would waver if they met determined resistance. If the captive was to be believed, there weren't many in the castle, but they would be experienced. Rudiger trusted that the element of surprise and the armour of faith would be enough to win the day.

For himself, he felt more protected than usual. Not only had he Wolfgang and Heinz stripped the corpses of their prisoners of their armour, but Rudiger could feel Sigmar's hand on his shoulder. Victory today would win this place for his followers. Giving them a home and him a place of strength to build his vision from.

His new Empire.

Rudiger stood and raised his voice to the heavens, "now is the time, my brothers! Now is the hour when you cease your flight from danger. Now is the time when you put aside your fear. Now is the moment when you show your true worth. Let us take this place for your families, for your future, for Sigmar!"

A cry rose around him as the spear armed men stood and began to move quickly towards the rubble, "FOR SIGMAR!"

*** 

Heinz heard the shout and smiled. He knew he could count on the zealot to make enough of a fuss to draw all attention away from where he and his picked team of men began stealthily moving towards their target.

*** 

Rudiger had barely reached the first of the rocks from the tower when arrows whipped out from the darkness of the tower towards them. From the sounds behind them he knew that some of them had found their mark and sent men tumbling to the ground.

Rudiger did not look back. It was not that he did not care for the faithful; quite the opposite. To look back would be to slow down and show doubt. Both would be deadly to the rag tag force behind him. No, he must lead, and charge into the breach as a shining example to those that followed.

*** 

Garil saw two men fall in front of him. One of them was hit in the leg, and was simply wounded. The other, though, took an arrow to the chest, fell and did not move again.

The Dwarf remembered talking to the man during the march. His name was Stefan. He was a cobbler from Ostland and had travelled so far to die in this place. He had a wife.

*** 

Rudiger clambered as fast as he could up the rubble. He saw hooded figures quickly disappear from view as the arrows stopped coming.

Good. Let them flee. It would inspire the men to see their cowardly foes retreat. However, he knew that they must strike before the enemy could form an organised defence. Even a handful of bowmen could cause havoc amongst unarmoured spearmen if given the chance.

Rudiger increased his pace as he scrambled upwards.

*** 

Wolfgang urged the men on. He remembered the first time he had gone into battle in the north. It was nothing like this. The enemy had been a seething mass of mutated filth, determined to rip the men of the Empire limb from limb. Fear had driven him on; the knowledge that only victory would keep him alive.

This fight was different. The unseen enemy were not as terrifying, and just men. But to these simple folk that had fled from the abominations of the Storm, the prospect of charging and fighting for their lives would still hold dread.

It was different, but Wolfgang knew what the men must be feeling. He urged them on nonetheless.

*** 

As he clambered down the other side of the rubble, into the ruin of the tower, Rudiger heard a great number of shrill cries go up as a murder of crows were disturbed from their roost and took to the air.

The enemy were also clambering, but upwards, over the smaller pile of rubble on the other side of the tower. Just four of them. That had been why the arrow fire had been so desultory.

Rudiger wondered momentarily where the others were. They had been told to expect a dozen. Were they about to be ambushed? Were they charging into a trap?

It didn't matter now. They had no option but to continue onwards.

*** 

Heinz pressed on.

The tower they had made for was more intact that that which Rudiger's force had assaulted. There was less rubble to navigate, but the far side of the tower was still standing, and Heinz guessed that they would have to still get through a door to reach the courtyard. Even a couple of men would be able to hold such an obstacle, and Heinz prayed that his small group had not yet been noticed.

*** 

From the shadows of the ruined tower, Rudiger and the leading men reached the top of the second mound of broken stonework and looked down into the courtyard.

Blinking in the light, Rudiger understood why there had been so little resistance. In the centre of the courtyard a troop of horses had been gathered and were being hastily saddled and packed.

They were getting ready to flee.

Of course. Rudiger had assumed that their enemy would stand and fight, but this was a scouting party, with orders to lay low. They knew they couldn't hold the place against determined assault, and they had no idea that their attackers were little more than beggars dressed in sacks. Heinz's 'uniforms' had worked.

Rudiger now took in the full picture. They were going to ride out of the flooded gate. Even if Heinz appeared from the opposite tower as planned, they would be too few to stop them and the horsemen would ride free.

What was more, his own assault was slowing down on the rocks, and below them a handful of the enemy were now stood in line, with bows bent, pointing up towards them.

*** 

Garil looked up towards where Rudiger had reached the top of the fallen masonry and briefly paused, silhouetted against the sky.

He was certainly a brave, if not foolhardy, man. Garil did not know what exaclty had happened to the Middenlander, but at times he reminded the Dwarf of his own kin that had taken the oath if the Trollslayer. A path that had called to the wronged Dwarf more than once.

*** 

Wolfgang also looked towards Rudiger, but wondered what the hell he was doing. He was making an excellent target to be shot at, posing like a fool at the top of the rubble.

As if in answer to the Nordlander's concerns, a volley of arrows whipped past Rudiger, narrowly missing him. Wolfgang did not know whether his friend's life was charmed in some way, but in the time he had known him, Wolfgang had seen Rudiger recklessly charge into danger many times and emerge unscathed.

One of the men stood alongside the preacher was less fortunate. An arrow caught the man in the shoulder and pitched him backwards. He fell head first onto the rocks, and made a sickening noise as his skull connected with a jagged stone. The man lay still, blood oozing from beneath him.

*** 

Still no sign of opposition.

Heinz could hear the noises of battle ahead as he made his way quickly across the floor of the ruined tower. As he had guessed, a door lay ahead, but there was no sign of any guards, save for an ancient skeleton slumped against a wall, a rusted scimitar in its grip.

He reached the door, gently pushed it open and peered out.

*** 

The volley of arrows shook Rudiger out of his reverie and he began the descent towards the enemy.

The bowmen did not stay to fire a second volley and ran towards where their horses were being held for them. They mounted up and then the whole group spurred towards the gate.

Rudiger saw the door of the tower opposite open and Heinz appear. He was too late to block the escape of the horsemen, but Rudiger smiled to see the nobleman rush after the riders, slashing wildly at the rear most with his heavy mace, as they passed out of the gate.

Rudiger was overwhelmed. They had taken a castle with little more than a rabble of refugees in an almost bloodless victory. Truly, Sigmar was with them.

*** 

Garil moved cautiously up the stairs of the keep.

After the horsemen had fled, it had been quickly decided that they needed to check the place was truly deserted. Rudiger had led the search of the remaining towers and outbuildings, whilst Wolfgang had taken some men to tend to the dead and injured.

Heinz had hurriedly led his party back for the women, children and sick just over the hill to bring them to the safety of the castle. There had been an immediate fear that the horsemen might discover them and do some mischief, and so Heinz had gone with all haste.

That left the job of searching the keep to Garil and a handful of men.

Upon entering the ground floor of the large hexagonal building, it had struck Garil as odd that the great hall of the ground floor showed no signs of occupation. It was untidy and wrecked, of course, but the structure of the building was sound, and it seemed the natural place for a party of men to camp.

As they had moved up to the next level, which only extended across half of the hall below, Garil had discovered two equally unoccupied bedrooms. Motheaten tapestries hung on the walls, and the rooms smelled musty, but again it struck Garil as strange that whilst occupying the castle, nobody had thought to sleep somewhere warm and dry.

Perhaps they had always intended to flee if attacked and so had wanted to be close to their horses? Without provisions, a prolonged siege could turn a castle into a tomb. Yes, that made some sense. It's not what Dwarfs would do, but men might think like that.

Garil and his men pressed onwards and upwards to the top of the keep. Their way lit dimly by arrow slits in the walls. The top floor was divided into several rooms around a central hub. These rooms, again untouched by any recent activity, appeared to have been abandoned in a hurry. Cupboards thrown open, items of clothing left on the floor. As if the original inhabitants of the castle had needed to flee quickly.

The only room that seemed totally undisturbed was what appeared to be a library in the southwestern corner of the building. Rows of shelves held books upon books. Garil could guess why these had been left untouched. Like himself, most men lacked the skill to read, and books would not be what most people of any race would reach for in an emergency.

Garil knew Heinz could read, all nobles could, and he presumed that Rudiger might also know how. He doubted it was an ability possessed by the farrier, Wolfgang. Perhaps there would be something here to in interest his companions.

What interested Garil, however, was in the southwestern corner of the room. Positioned by one of the arrow slits was what Garil recognised as a spy-glass. A device for looking long distances. Unusually, this one was fixed in position, so that it could not be moved and would look only at a single spot in the distance.

Garil wondered what could require such scrutiny as he put his eye to the end of the spy-glass and peered through.

He was surprised to see that beyond the hill the castle was on, not only were there no more hills, but also the lush green vegetation ceased and an expanse of dead, flat earth opened up to the west. Garil presumed that this must be the area Markus had referred to as the 'Barrens.'

In the centre of the fixed view that the spy-glass gave of this desolate landscape was what appeared to be a single tower, pointing up at the sky like an accusatory finger. Unusually, this tower was not grey, as one might expect of a construction made of stone, but instead it was pale. White. Bone-white.

Welcome to Masserschloss

Being able to reconnect with my roleplaying buddies (old friends, very old friends in Grandad's case) was one of the brightest points of 2020.

What follows is the continuing account of our four heroes leaving the Empire and seeking their fortunes in the Border Princes.

Atop the rise, looking down into the valley, five figures, along with three horses, were silhouetted against the grey sky. Below them unfolded a view of a lush valley, quite unlike the hard and barren lands they had been travelling through. Nestled in the valley, astride a river, stood a walled town. Their goal. Their destination. Masserschloss.

For each of the travellers Masserschloss represented something different but important. What's more, for all of them, the town represented a chance to stop. Pause their journey, sleep under a roof and enjoy a few comforts, at least for a little while.

Sat up on his black mare, Heinz Castel surveyed the small town below. It wasn't exactly Talabheim, but did look like it could offer a few luxuries and diversions. Heinz smiled. He wasn't made for the open road, and soaking nights huddled under blankets.

Also mounted was Wolfgang Braun. As neither the Dwarf or the zealot had shown any interest in making use of the horses they'd gained from the altercation with the Outriders, Wolfgang had helped himself to the piebald gelding. Despite working with horses all his life, he'd never actually owned one (if taking a horse from a man you'd killed counted as 'owning' it). For Wolfgang, the town presented the first real chance to find news of his family since leaving the Empire.

Resolutely stood alongside them, Rudiger Reich had refused the offer of the third horse. He had impatiently explained that his calling was to follow in the 'footsteps' of Sigmar, and he couldn't very well do that from the back of a horse. Rudiger saw Masserschloss as a place where he could spread the holy word, and perhaps begin the process of building a new, uncorrupted Empire. He would be alert for signs from Sigmar to show him the path.

Nobody had thought to even bother offering a horse to Garil. He didn't care. He was a Dwarf, and Dwarfs stay close to ground. For Garil, Masserchloss was likely to be the place where he said farewell to his companions. His destiny, and a confrontation with his cousin Barak, lay far to the east in the World's Edge Mountains. It was a dangerous road with little to offer his companions at its end.

The final and newest member of the party was Detlef. For him, Masserschloss was home. It was also where he would have to bring news of the death of his friend and partner Karl to the man's wife, Marie. He would also deliver the body of Karl, currently unceremoniously strapped across the back of the third horse, for burial. It was not the homecoming he hadwanted.

***

The journey down towards the town allowed those unfamiliar with it to take in details they had missed from the ridge.

On either side of the river that ran through the valley basin, the lush green land was dotted with small farmsteads. Small boats bobbed on the water. Not the large trade barges and pleasure craft so familiar on the Reik or Talabec, but fishing boats, most likely.

The town itself was situated on the western side of the river. An old stone wall surrounded it. Although nothing like the walls if the great city states of the Empire, it was clearly enough of an obstacle to deter all but the most numerous warbands of greenskins.

On the eastern side of the river, connected to the town by a single stone bridge, a weathered old castle sat atop a rocky bluff. It reminded Heinz of the family seats of some of the more rural noble families of Talabecland, built primarily for defence against the wild rather than comfort.

*** 

The gates of Masserschloss loomed ahead. Traffic in the form of traders and farmers bringing their wares to market moved along the road with them.

The gates themselves were heavy, wooden and about fifteen feet high. In front of them were arrayed what could only be assumed to be a group of guards. They wore no discernible uniform, save for red sashes bound about their waists. Their weaponry was a varied collection marked only by a distinct lack of uniformity. These were clearly sellswords, like the Outriders, aligned to Dieter von Masserschloss purely for the coin.

Wolfgang was troubled by the number of guards on gate duty. It would surely be a job for only a handful of men in the Empire, but here there were more than a dozen. Even in the event of an attack, it would not make sense to have men outside the walls. The guards looked like they had been deployed for trouble. Was this a welcoming party? Had news of the incident on the road somehow reached Masserschloss?

Wolfgang's fears were allayed when he realised that most of the guards were not actually watching the road. Their eyes were drawn off towards the river where a small shanty town huddled against the city walls. Tents and lean-tos were clustered together indiscriminately, and drawn, pale faces stared out towards the road. As they drew nearer, a distinct smell assaulted Wolfgang's nostrils, clearly emanating from the encampment.

A few disheveled figures broke away from the camp and headed towards the road. The Nordlander now understood why the guards were there. A group of the armed men intercepted the poor folk from the camp and ushered them away from the travellers. Dieter clearly didn't want trade affected by beggars.

Rudiger's attention was also fixed on the camp, but for different reasons. He'd caught sight of a ragged pennant fluttering in the breeze. It bore the unmistakable sign of the twin-tailed comet. The mark of Sigmar. Looking closer, Rudiger saw that several tents had scraps of parchment pinned to them; were they prayers? Were these desperate folk also refugees from the Empire? The faithful of Sigmar in need of support and guidance?

Rudiger felt his soul fill with purpose. This was clearly a test from his lord and he resolved to help these folk escape their plight as soon as he was able.

*** 

Passing in to Masserschloss proved no obstacle to those who could pay. The taxes on the gate also gave a reason why the destitute folk were trapped outside. Detlef explained why the group were carrying a dead man, and then guided the group through the streets to their sombre destination.

The town of Masserschloss struck the Imperial travellers as odd. The buildings were constructed of hardened earth and not brick, and the roofs were thatched, not tiled. In fact, very few of the buildings were more than a single storey. The streets weren't paved or cobbled, and mud made it heavy going underfoot. Everything looked like a poor village of the north, but crowded and packed together.

Detlef guided them through the streets to a small house that looked exactly like all the others. He asked the group to wait whilst he broke the sad news to Karl's widow and then walked up and knocked sombrely on the door.

The group watched as the door opened to reveal a young woman with brown hair. She spoke quietly with Detlef and then a looked of tragic horror filled her gentle features. She began to cry. Detlef consoled and calmed her before ushering his companions over.

"These are the men that saved my life and helped me bring Karl home to you," said Detlef gently.

"You have our sincere condolences my good woman," began Garil in a surprisingly warm tone, "I am grieved that we should make your acquaintance in such tragic circumstances."

"I myself am saddened that we were unable to smite the perpetrators of this foul act and bring you vengeance," added Rudiger in what he clearly thought was the righteous way to console the grieving.

"I can only thank you for what you have done," said the woman through her tears, "my name is Marie. I have no means to offer you proper thanks, but whilst you are in Masserschloss, if there is anything I can do to aid you, you need only ask."

"That is true for me also," added Detlef, "my debt to you is large, and not one I shall forget "

Carefully, Karl's body was taken down from the horse and carried into Marie's humble home with reverence.

*** 

After taking leave of Detlef and Marie, the travellers wandered through the streets. Detlef had told them the the best inn in town was the Renegade Crown, which stood by the bridge to the castle.

"Should we not look for somewhere more affordable?" asked Garil, "What money we have is going to need to last."

Heinz snorted, "That's not an option. We now have three horses to find stabling for, and after our travels, I would like to spend at least one night in an establishment of quality, before returning to the life of a vagrant."

"He's got a point about the stabling," commented Wolfgang, "but that's going to make it even more expensive."

"I have no need of horses, or the soft comforts of excess," muttered Rudiger, "a common room in a tavern will serve me well."

"I'm not staying in a shithole," spat Heinz, "I want to wash. And my horse is going in stable. I have standards. You can suit yourselves."

"Hold on there, lad," said Garil, gesturing for tempers to calm, "maybe we can compromise? Heinz, you want to stay in this good inn, which I understand, but it's going to be pricey, especially with three horses.

'Well, it seems that neither Rudi nor myself have much interest in riding a horse, although I see young Wolfgang has become attached to that patchwork animal.

'What do you say to us selling this third beast? That will cut our costs and also put some more money in our pockets, allowing us a little bit of comfort."

"I have no need of comfort," stated Rudiger, proudly.

Garil smiled, "aye, we know that. But it's best lodge together in a strange town."

"That seems sensible," admitted Heinz, "although I know little of horse trading. Or any trading, for that matter."

"I could deal with that," put in Wolfgang, "by my reckoning, we could make a tidy sum."

"That's settled then," said Garil with a smile.

Heinz offered to take the remaining horses to the inn to get them stables and secure a room whilst the others set about trying to sell the third. Garil was left awkwardly holding the reins whilst Wolfgang and Rudiger asked around for potential buyers.

Wolfgang, naturally, went looking for blacksmiths, and found one who said he might be able to find a good buyer inside a week. Rudiger, meanwhile, was pointed towards the market square. Travelling merchants were likely to be able to make use of extra horseflesh.

Not wanting, to have to wait around, the three decided to try their luck at the market and before long found a merchant called Ranulf. 

After having the animal inspected by his muleskinner, the merchant sucked his teeth.

"It's not a great animal, what were you hoping to get for it?"

"Well...erm...eighty crowns?" offered Wolfgang, taken aback that he was talking about a sum of money that he would never normally see in a year's work.

"Eighty? For this nag?" laughed Ranulf, "don't be ridiculous. He's not worth more than sixty."

Wolfgang held his nerve. Sixty crowns. Sixty. He wanted to bite the man's hand off. He paused, swallowed hard and countered, "well, I suppose I could go to seventy."

The merchant also paused and theatrically stroked his beard, musing, "seventy? I can do seventy, if..." he paused, "if the saddle,  tack and harness are thrown in, along with that dangerous looking crossbow strapped to the saddle."

Wolfgang almost choked. He'd presumed he was offering all the tack in with the horse, and had quite forgotten about the crossbow. He realised that he was about to be swindled, but he didn't care. Seventy crowns would keep the four of them going for a while and his share would mean that he wouldn't have to worry about money whilst he searched for news of his family.

"Done."

The merchant smiled a predatory smile, shook Wolfgang's hand and indicated for one of his men to hand over the money.

*** 

The Renegade Crown was indeed a good inn. One of the few two storey buildings in the town, it boasted stables and private rooms and looked for all the world like a coaching inn from the Empire. However, the decor was am eclectic mix of different cultures and odd to imperial eyes.

Heinz had secured a room for the four of them and also arranged for baths to be drawn up. He himself was looking refreshed after having washed and changed into distinctly better quality garments.

In their room, Garil, Wolfgang and Rudiger peeled off their stained and torn travelling gear and lowered themselves into the three copper tubs that were steaming in the centre of the room. The tiredness and aches melted away as they genuinely relaxed for the first time in a long time.

They dressed in the fresher but still humble clothes that they had taken from the waggon on the road and made their way down to the common room, where Heinz had ordered food.

It was strange to be in such a crowded place after so long on the road, and Rudiger seemed resentful of the comfort and warmth. Something was playing on his mind and sat glowering at the table and was avoided by everybody in the place.

Heinz meanwhile, was off talking and gambling with merchants and travellers. He seemed perfectly at home in this environment and laughed heartily in convivial company.

Wolfgang felt concerned about his friend Rudiger. Although he wanted to relax, he knew that the zealot was troubled. He'd seen this mood before and knew that Rudiger could easily be angered. Wolfgang resolved to stay at the table with him to avoid any unpleasantness developing.

Glancing about the room, Garil's eyes set on two Dwarfs by the fire. One was was a young Dwarf with plaited blonde beard, in the fashion of Zhufbar. The other was a grey haired longbeard, clearly worthy of respect and full of tales and experience.

His friends were stout folk, but it had been a long time since Garil had enjoyed the company of fellow Dwarfs. Taking a swig of his ale, Garil approached the two Dwarfs.

"Good evening," said Garil, bowing his head," Garil Ragnarsson at your service. May I join your esteemed company, share an ale and swap a tale or two?" Garil savoured the syllables of the Khazalid tongue as they flowed across his tongue.

The two dwarfs rose and similarly bowed their heads to Garil. The older dwarf spoke first, as was right and proper.

"It is pleasing to find proper manners still exist in the world. I am Harkon Thunderstone and this is my son Dorwin, at your service. Please sit, we would be honoured at you company."

The dwarfs talked seriously about their travels in the Border Princes and enquired of Garil's time in the Empire, nodding gravely at his accounts of the Storm of Chaos. Garil asked of affairs in the World's Edge Mountains and was pleased to hear that everything was much as it always had been. He was feeling like a true dwarf for the first time in years.

"Tell me," said Harkon, "you said your family name is Ragnarsson. Does that mean that you are kin to Barik Ragnarsson at Goldstone just to the south of here?"

Garil's blood froze. To hear the name of his cousin, his enemy, was one thing. But to hear that he was so close to the one who dishonoured him, filled him with vengeful fury.

"Yes, indeed," said Garil through a tight smile, trying to keep his true feelings from his face, "but I have not seen him in many years. How fares my cousin?"

"Very well," responded Harkon, appearing not to notice Garil's change of mood, but Dorwin's eyebrow raised slightly, "I do not know what possessed him to name a silver mine 'Goldstone', but he enjoys a good relationship with Dhouda, the ruler of that land and is building a strong foundation for his descendants. I assume to intend to see him soon?"

Garil's thoughts raced. Barik was within his reach sooner than he expected. He hadn't yet considered how he was going to redeem his name, but he had thought often of confronting his cousin in his years of exile.

"Oh yes. I fully intend to pay my cousin the respect he deserves."

At that moment, the door flew open and a man rushed in. His face was bright red, he'd clearly run from  somewhere, and there was wild eyed look to him.

"We're at war!"

***

The inn erupted with questions and shouting. From what the travellers could work out, the Prince of Masserschloss, Dieter, had despatched his eldest son with some men to deal with some cross border raiding to the south by someone called 'Dhouda'. They assumed this must be a neighbouring prince.

The boy, Hans, had overstretched himself and engaged in a full skirmish that had gon against him and the boy had been killed. Dieter was now mobilising for a full scale attack on Dhouda, something that princes didn't usually do, as it meant stripping their holdings of necessary protection.

The inn was alive with activity as merchants tried to determine how this turn of events would affect their business. Some were making plans to leave on the morning, whilst other were trying to make deals that would allow them to make a quick profit. Harkon and Derwin made their excuses to Garil as they planned to head east in the morning and needed to make preparations.

Garil, Rudiger, Wolfgang and Heinz were back at their table, as the commotion rumbled around them.

"I don't see how this affects us," said Heinz.

Wolfgang frowned, "well you wouldn't, my family could be caught in this. You haven't seen what war can do."

"But you don't know where they are, so there's no point worrying," retorted the nobleman.

Garil was silent, considering everything he'd heard that evening.

"It's not my business," muttered Rudiger, "the petty squabbles of princlings are nothing to the will of Sigmar. I have been shown my path and know what I must do."

The others looked at Rudiger. Hey knew that he was not one for empty promises and knew that what he had decided could have a significant effect on each of them.

"There are good Sigmarites living the life of beggars here. They have been carried here by the tides of one war, and now another threatens to swallow them. I intend to aid and protect them."

"What?" snorted Heinz, "you're going to adopt yet another stragglers of beggars? We've only just got rid of the last lot. You don't expect me to help you do you?"

"Heinz, I expect you to do whatever you wish. I have no hold over you. But your aid would be welcome."

"Well, I'll help," put in Wolfgang, "Heinz is right. Without knowing where they are, I can't help my family. However, I can help these people in their stead, and maybe folk who have come from the Empire might be able to give me news."

"I applaud your zeal, Rudi," said Garil, "but I must consider my own destiny. My intention had been to go east. That has now changed, but we still might be parted. I need to sleep on it."

Heinz was defiant, "well, I'm not getting involved in a mercy mission. Take a look at what's going on around you. This is a time of opportunity."

As the four headed back to their rooms, they each considered that their companionship might be coming to an end.

***

The following morning, Rudiger and Wolfgang were up early, and set off to the market to purchase food to bring to the encampment outside the walls.

Garil ate his breakfast alone and then went for a walk through the bustling streets. From what he'd heard, the war would be with Dhouda, to the south, who Barik was allied with. Joining Dieter's forces would not only be honourable, as the man sought vengeance for his son, it might also bring him into direct conflict with his cousin. On the other hand, he could not imagine Rudiger, Wolfgang or Heinz coming with him. He be facing Barik without allies.

So be it.

Heinz slept in, and the others had gone before he woke. He'd resolved to set off to market to sell some of his acquisitions from his travels before looking for a way he could make himself useful and turn current events to his advantage.

***

Gaunt faces gazed at Rudiger and Wolfgang as they hauled several sacks into the centre of the encampment outside the walls. They had spent a good sum of money on bread, meat and vegetables. It wasn't the best standard, but it was what they could manage with folk buying up what they could. Wolfgang was pretty sure that the homeless folk wouldn't complain.

The gate guards had looked at Rudiger incredulously when he explained why they were taking sacks of food out on foot. As ever, the zealot had been a convincing talker and the guards had waved them through.

Now Wolfgang could sense the suspicion in the camp around him. These people had little cause to trust strangers, and clearly feared what the presence off the two men bearing sacks could mean.

"Here will do," Rudiger stated and set his sack down. Wolfgang did the same as the Middenlander began to speak.

"Good people. Children of Sigmar. You have been I'll treated by fate and those who should have cared for you.

The failure of the lords of the north to withstand the oncoming storm drove you out of your homes. The lack of compassion of the lords of the south pushed you to quit the Empire. And here, in the shadow of Masserschloss, you have found a hard welcome.

These are times that are sent to test us brothers. Those, like yourselves, who have lost everything are having your faith tested. But I can see from the pendants and icons you still raise, that your faith has not been found wanting.

For those like myself, to whom fate has been kinder, times like these present a different test. One of character. Do I give up what little I have to help those in need? Or do I turn my back and seek only to save myself?"

Wolfgang looked about him. He could see that Rudiger's oratory had caught the attention of a good number of the poor folk. They were still wary, but the clearly wondered where this preacher was going with his speech.

"I choose not to turn my back. I choose not to give up on the pitiable. And I choose not to think only of myself.

I bring you a sign that your faith has been rewarded. A sign that Sigmar has not forsaken you. A sign that Sigmar will never forsake you!

Come, eat. We have brought food enough for all, if all take only what they need."

With that, Rudiger reached into one of the sacks and held aloft the first item he grabbed. A turnip.

It was an odd image, the wild eyed preacher with a root vegetable in his hand, and in another place, Wolfgang was sure the sight would have drawn jeers and laughter. However, these people were desperate, and they understood that these two men had brought food. And yet they didn't move, there was still suspicion in the air.

Wolfgang took a small loaf out of another sack and held it out to a small girl who had edged closer.

"Here you are. It's for you. A gift."

The girl tentatively took a step forward. Her trembling fingers reached out. She looked uncertainly into Wolfgang's eyes and saw only generosity. He smiled and nodded and the girl suddenly grabbed the loaf and sank her teeth into the stale bread.

This seemed to break the spell of suspicion. Wolfgang and Rudiger immediately found themselves surrounded by a heaving mass of people. However, rather than scrabbling only for themselves, something in Rudiger's words had struck a chord. People took only enough for themselves or their loved ones, and passed food to others behind them. Rudiger smiled with satisfaction, whilst Wolfgang looked on mystified at this collective lack of selfishness.

As the crowd started to break up to sit and devour the gift of food they had received, Wolfgang saw a couple of the town guards sauntering through the camp. They stopped a few yards away and then one of them, a man dressed in worn leather armour with a scar running down his cheek began to speak.

"Now that you've eaten something. How do you fancy more? Prince Dieter is looking for recruits. You'll get food and lodging better than what you've got now. Who's with me?"

Wolfgang suppressed a laugh as nobody even looked up. Even so, rage at the audacity of this request built in him.

"You seriously believe people who you've left to starve will fight for your prince?" snapped Wolfgang.

"What's it to you?" retorted the guard, "these people need food, Dieter needs bodies."

"You have a lot to learn about people. They won't just fight and die for a full belly. They need loyalty if you want them to stand." Wolfgang, turned his back on the guard and went back to giving out the last of the scraps from the sacks.

"He's right," Wolfgang heard Rudiger say, "people won't fight for just anybody, as you can see."

"Well, we'll see about that if I come back when they're hungry again," sneered the guard. "Then we'll see if they're willing to fight the Breton witch.

"What if I have a better offer?" said Ridiger calmly.

Wolfgang turned to look at his companion. Something had shifted in his tone and that familiar fire was in his eyes. He dreaded the next words that would come out of his friend's mouth.

"What if we fight this witch together? As one? Rather than a handful of hungry recruits, if he'll feed them, we'll give your Dieter a entire company of men."

The look on the guards face was priceless, but Wolfgang was horrified. Did Rudiger have any idea what he'd just let them in for?

The Long And Winding Road

This is the third installment of our Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay campaign set in the Border Princes. Our heroes: Wolfgang Braun of Nordland; Garil Ragnarsson the Dwarf; Rudiger Reich a devout of Sigmar; and Heinz Castel a nobleman, strangely reluctant to share his background, have travelled over Black Fire Pass to the Border Princes to start a new life. They had travelled with a caravan of refugees from the war and faced many perils, most significantly an attack by Beastmen of the forest. Ultimately they'd parted company with the others, who had decided to seek a place to settle in a mining village called Sweetwater. Our heroes have chosen to seek their fortunes in the town of Masserschloss, the seat of power of a local prince, called Dieter.

This session actually happened several weeks ago, and o my memory is a bit hazy, hence the lack of detail at certain points.

The four travellers watched their erstwhile companions disappear up the track towards Sweetwater. Or at least where they believed the mining town to be. Despite losing the safety of numbers, a strange lightness filled each of their hearts.

Wolfgang Braun felt a sense of pride that he had, in a small way, contributed to the safety of those simple folk. He wished he could have done more. Nevertheless, given the dangers they had faced in the forest, Wolfgang knew he had done all that was in his power to protect the vulnerable. Perhaps he was indeed up to the task of finding and protecting what was left of his family.

Garil Ragnarsson’s relief was much more pragmatic. The caravan had made a very big, very slow and very tempting target. The journeys of his younger days had taught him that these lands were unforgiving. At least the four of them now had the option of being able to avoid threats too large to fight. Perhaps not even drawing unwelcome attention at all.

Rudiger Reich felt liberated. He had wrestled with which path he should follow. Should he protect the people of Sigmar, or follow in his footsteps? Now he knew. He would stride into this wild and untamed land, and bring it into Sigmar’s light. Those loyal folk would someday flock back to his banner when the new Empire was born.

Heinz Castel was just glad to be rid of the tedious peasants.

***

Turning south, the four companions had a spring in their step and now made good time. Spirits lifted further as the volcano grew closer, but was now to the west of them. Occasionally they passed small trader caravans that hurried northwards without stopping to encounter the armed travellers, perhaps fearing they were bandits.

At one point, on the side of the road they came across a small shrine to Sigmar.  It was nothing more than a one-foot-thick wooden wall with a small roof over it, with a wooden carving of Sigmar protruding from the wall.  A handful of scraps of parchment bearing prayers were tacked to the wall and various offerings lie at the foot of the shrine: fresh cut grain, flowers, a woven cord bracelet, a wooden carving of a boy, and a wooden bowl containing a few brass pennies.

The site of this shrine, far from where such things were common, heartened Wolfgang, and lit a fire in Rudiger’s eyes. A sign, perhaps, that Sigmar’s hand was on them. They both took time to pray, and leave offerings of their own, whilst Garil waited patiently and Heinz muttered to himself.

***

Pressing on, the land began to rise. A row of hills linked the highlands to the northwest with the land around the volcano, which smoked and loomed. Reaching the crest of the low ridge, the four of them were able to see that the land flattened to the west, into low lying fenland, shrouded in mist. They remembered the warnings of greenskins lurking in the marshes and unconsciously gripped their weapons tightly.

Later in the afternoon, their attention was drawn to what was clearly a large movement on the road ahead. Heinz scouted forward on his steed and rode back to report that a large company of armed men was headed their way, marching in formation. Moving to the side of the road, the four took the time to rest whilst they waited for the company to pass.

Maybe sixty strong, the men wore black uniforms. They marched under the banner of a spread eagle, red, on a black field. Their arms were composed mainly of pikes with some greatswords and crossbows mixed in. Mercenaries. Tilean probably. At least that’s what Heinz surmised from the cut of the cloth of the overdressed dandy that rode at the head of the column. Barely acknowledging the existence of the four travellers, the group passed north, probably heading to the Empire, to profit from the troubles that beset it.

***

As darkness descended, the group made camp away from the road and passing trouble, although they did risk a small fire to warm their bones. They took turns to watch whilst others slept, and it was whilst Wolfgang was on guard that their sleep was disturbed.

Steps in the undergrowth, brought the Nordlander to his feet, hammer in hand. He was immediately reminded of the beastmen attack on the camp, and whispered hoarsely to the others to wake them, and braced himself for combat. A shape came stumbling out of the bushes, and collapsed near the fire. Wolfgang was about to spring forwards in attack until his senses took in that this was a man, bloodied and wounded.  He had taken an arrow through the arm, which now hung limp. 

Quickly, the camp was awake, hands grasping for weapons, but Wolfgang was already tending to the man, who groaned in pain. Through his anguish, the man was able to relay that his name was Detlef. He was a bounty hunter. He and his partner, Karl, had tracked three bandits to a rocky hill nearby, but they were ambushed.  His partner was killed. 

Detlef asked the travellers for aid. He needed their help to retrieve a locket for Karl’s widow, and perhaps even his body for a proper burial. He also offered them the bounty, if they were able to capture or kill the bandits. Eager to see justice done, they agreed, but only in the morning. Blundering about in the dark would likely get them lost, or killed, or both.

The day broke wearily, and after a meagre bite to eat, the travellers shouldered the packs and followed the injured Detlef into the wild. Without real tracking experience amongst them, the journey could simply have found them wandering had it not been for Detlef’s stumbling and falling making a trail so easy to find that a child could follow it.

The trail led to a rocky outcrop that Detlef remembered as where he and Karl were ambushed, and before long the dead man was found. Whilst the bounty hunter tended to his friend, Heinz rode round the outcrop and returned shortly after to report that he had found an opening that looked a likely spot for a hideout.

Moving stealthily around the rocks, Garil and Rudiger led the way, with Wolfgang keeping a sharp eye out for ambushers. Cautiously, they edged into the narrow passage, which opened into a hollow in the centre of the outcrop. Completely obscured from outside, it seemed the ideal location for outlaws or bandits to lair. Indeed, there was evidence of a recent fire, and a camp abandoned. The killers of Detlef’s partner must have broken camp, fearing retribution.

The body of Karl was wrapped in blankets and put over the back of Heinz’s horse, much to the chagrin of the nobleman. A grateful Detlef swore to uphold his end of the bargain and seek to help the four companions however he could once the reached Masserschloss. And so the party made their way back to the road.

***

“Keep moving, don’t get involved,” whispered Detlef as they approached the group by the side of the road.

Three armed men on horseback had crossbows levelled at a ragged group cowering in front of them. Terrified faces of two men and two women quivered in fear. Their sallow complexions and drawn faces betrayed a tale of hunger, whilst their stained and worn garb suggested they had travelled many miles. Meanwhile, the horsemen were clearly well fed and armed, and did not care that there was another group approaching. Their brash confidence said something other than banditry.

“What’s going on?” muttered Garil, uncomfortable with the scene unfolding in front of him.

“See, the red sashes on their arms? They’re Dieter’s men.”

That made sense. These were more of the Outriders, the caravan had encountered in the north. From what Garil understood, they were somewhat akin to Roadwardens, and were likely to deal with criminals, thieves and bandits. However, the pitiful figures stood by the side of the road didn’t exactly look like hardened outlaws, and if they were bandits, they clearly weren’t very good at it.

“Move along,” called one of the men, sneering. “You can buy us a drink to thank us for keeping the roads safe at the Bridge.”

“Please sirs, help us,” cried one of the ragged men suddenly, his voice betraying a Reikland accent “we haven’t done any…”

Before the man could finish what he was saying, there was a sharp twang. A black fletched quarrel embedded itself in his throat, and the man crumpled to the floor.

“I said keep moving,” snarled the rider, reaching to reload.

Wolfgang’s heart sank as he sense his Dwarven companion bristling with rage beside him.

“Why did you do that?” barked Garil, “He was not threat.”

“Be off with you, or you’ll get the same,” snapped one of the others, “we’re Dieter’s men, on Dieter’s orders.”

“Well, I take exception to this Dieter, and I’ll not be moving on,” growled Garin.

Two more crossbow bolts flew towards the Dwarf, but both went wide. Garin strode confidently towards the riders, only to be overtaken by a charging Rudiger, who barrelled, screaming with rage, towards the fray. Rudiger had understood that these were Sigmar’s folk in distress and was now gripped with righteous fury. Rudiger’s flail swung heavily into the legs of the lead horse, causing it to rear up and dump its rider heavily into the dust.

The other horses screamed and reared and the two mounted men struggled to keep them under control. Taking his opportunity, Wolfgang also leapt forward to assail one of the riders. Reaching up he bought his hammer heavily into the man’s chest. The impact collapsed the man’s chest and he fell out of the saddle and lay still.

The third rider, seeing his companions assailed, took flight and hurried to turn his steed around. However, this momentary pause allowed time for Heinz to kick his own horse into action and leap forwards after the Outrider. If even one of these men escaped, Heinz knew that they could very quickly expect a hostile reception in Masserschloss.

Garil stumped over to where the snarling man lay cowering in the dirt. The man was still fumbling to unsheathe his sword when Garil’s hammer smashed across his temple, dropping him back to the ground.

Heinz spurred his horse forwards, desperate to reach his quarry. He knew what it was to live a life pursued, and having made it all the way over the mountains, he had no intention of starting his new life on the run from the authorities. Again.

Drawing level with the Outrider, whose horse was beginning to gather pace, Heinz brought his heavy, iron handled cane round in a wide arc that toppled the man out of his saddle. Wheeling his horse round, he charged and caught the man rising from the dirt with an upswing right under his jaw. Heinz felt bone splinter as the solid metal head of the cane connected.

Detlef looked on stunned. His new companions demonstrated an instant brutality that had shocked and surprised him. These men were either going to go far in the Border Princes, or they were going to meet a very swift end.

***

The inn was warm and welcoming. Wolfgang, Garil, Rudiger and Heinz ate their meal in silence, relishing the first proper meal they’d had in weeks. For some reason, Heinz had paid for the meal secretly so that his companions did not have to dip in their own pockets. It wasn’t clear why hed done this, but nobody was going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

After burying the Outriders in shallow graves, and putting an injured horse out of its misery. They had told the three remaining travellers to head north to avoid trouble, and perhaps head for Sweetwater, where they might find others from the Empire.

The companions had made excellent time with three horses between them, despite the fact that they were now loaded with crossbows liberated from the dead Outriders. Detlef had warned them that there might be suspicions raised at the Bridge Inn, a toll gate and staging post for the Outriders, but Detlef was known to the guards and few questions were asked.

The following day the party paid the toll, crossed the bridge and headed up into the hills beyond. The land rose quickly, and before long they were exposed to searing cross winds which cut through their cloaks.

There was no immediate signs of habitation for much of the way, although at one point, about a hundred yards off the road the travellers spotted a ravine. The wind made an eerie howling sound as it blew through it.  At the top of the ravine there was an old decrepit shack, which listed toward the ravine, as did all of the trees on either side of the ravine. The party barely paid this sight any attention as they were so close to their destination.

Indeed, it was shortly after this that the crested a hill and looked down into a valley, and beheld for the first time, the walled town of Masserschloss. The seat of power in the region and a place that would become so important in their futures.

The Road Goes Ever On...

The second session of our online WFRP campaign saw our adventures on the road with a refugee caravan and me trying a different method of creating a narrative.

I knew that the next part of the adventure would involve travelling and so I used a random generator to work out if there would be encounters on the road, when they would be and where.

These wouldn't be encounters thrust on to the party as in a linear narrative, but would be things that the players could encounter and respond to as they chose. What's more, other people and creatures would have their own agendas and act according to what seemed most likely in response to the PC's choices.

This actually led to what might seem an uneventful session, but I think that I ended up learning more about their characters, and they got to begin to piece together how the realm of Masserschloss works as I tried to weave each encounter into a wider tapestry.

Episode 2

Markus and the outsiders were swallowed once again by the misty morning. Soon, even the faintest sound of their passing had gone.

The train of refugees began to move again. Grimly clinging together. Pressing on, hopeful of a better tomorrow. Or, at least, a delayed fate.

The dawn crept forwards into morning and with it the mist began to clear. The road led down from the hills and into a wide plain of rolling grasslands, pockmarked with woodlands. Wisps of rising smoke here and there betrayed the presence of some sort of settlements. Nothing like the great cities of the Empire, or even the smaller market towns. Hamlets, maybe, or villages at most. Tucked into the landscape, not advertising their existence.

Dominating the plain to the south was a single mountain at the tail end of a ridge of hills. It's shape seemed odd to the former Imperial citizens. It was as if one of the gods had sliced off the peak, or flattened it with a hammer. Above this single height was a dark cloud which seemed to issue from the mountain, as if breathed out. 

Only Garil, Dwarf of the World's Edge Mountains knew what it was that shaped the mountain in this way. He had passed this way many years before. He remembered the still stirring volcano on his shame-filled journey to the Empire, fleeing an undeserved strain on his honour. The wonder on the faces of the humans at the sight of it made him smile. For him, though it was a landmark that showed him the way home. The hour of his reckoning was drawing closer.

Beside Garil, strode Wolfgang, leading the mules. He was keen to keep a close eye on them after the disturbing events of the night before. The poor animals were likely to bolt in the event of any more surprises. That would be yet another hardship to bear for the ragged travellers. Something Wolfgang would do what he could to avoid.

Rudiger was not taking in the landscape ahead of him. He was busy offering inspiring words of, what he thought, comfort to those who would listen. Telling tales of Sigmar's undoubted joy at the victory they had won in the woods. The zealous preacher scarcely noticed the faces of those around him flinch as he continually stirred bad memories.

At the head of the column, Heinz rode alone. He casually took in the morning air. For a brief time he was taken back to his days riding in the woods near his home. Momentarily he forgot everything that had happened since then. He savoured the feeling, taking deep pleasure from the tranquil nostalgia and the moist air on his skin.

Some way behind him Garil was beginning to appreciate that the road they travelled was actually really rather good. The muddy trail in the forest had given way to stone slabs. Well carved and evenly spaced, the craftsmanship was more than he expected from human. Especially outside the Empire. He began to ponder the likelihood that the road was of Dwarf-make. Yes. That would make sense.

Garil's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a small boy at his shoulder. Scrawny and short, the boy was hovering that bit too close. Enough to suggest that the boy had something to say, but was trying to be polite about it.

"Well, lad, out with it," said the Dwarf eventually. Garil wasn't not fond of children, he just had no real experience of them. Especially human ones.

The boy hesitated. "Erm..."

"Yes?"

Beside Garil, Wolfgang smirked at his companion's obvious discomfort. He, in contrast, was very familiar with having children around. He missed his nephews. The boy reminded him of little Stefan, the youngest.

The boy continued, "can I...erm...can I ask? What's it like?"
"What's what like?" responded the Dwarf, bristling at the lack of directness. Were all human youngsters this tentative?

"What's it like to be a Dwarf?"

Wolfgang almost snorted at the impertinence of the question, and stole a glance at a what he thought was a baffled Garil, who apparently had no clue how to respond.

For Garil's part, he was taken aback. Not by the question itself. The child was just curious. What had floored him was the fact that in that moment he realised that he didn't know the answer. It had been so long since he had felt like a 'real' Dwarf. So long living amongst humans. So long hiding from his responsibilities.

Sensing that Garil was struggling, Wolfgang stepped in.

"What's you name, lad?"

"Pieter," came the reply, "I'm eight."

"Pleased to meet you Pieter, who's eight," said Wolfgang with a reassuring smile. "Who are you travelling with?"

A darkness passed over the boy's face, "my mother and father, and my grandfather was with us until he went away last night." It was if a great weight had descended that those young shoulders were too slender to bear.

Too late, Wolfgang realised that he'd said the wrong thing. He thought quickly of a way to change the subject.

"I'm really sorry to hear that Pieter. Hey, would you like to ride on one of the mules."

Like a cloud passing over the sun, the darkness was gone and Pieter looked like a carefree child again.

"Can I?"

"Of course," smiled Wolfgang and lifted the beaming boy to perch amongst the baggage.

At the head of the group, Heinz was brought out of his reverie. To the left of the road the landscape sloped away some twenty yards until it hit a thick line of brush and scrub. Protruding from the tangle thicket of branches was, what looked to be the corner of a wagon.

Heinz brought his chestnut mare to a halt and dismounted to get a better look. Yes, it was a wagon. Heinz could see the furrows cut in the damp earth where the wagon had clearly tumbled from the road and down the sloped. The nobleman's thoughts turned immediately to Esther, the pretty girl he'd had his eye on. Her family had fled the battle the night before.

Behind him, the cautious refugees came to a stop. Aware of the possibility of further attack, Wolfgang helped Pieter down from mule and sent him back to his family. Rudiger issued swift commands to those around him to stay close as Garil and Wolfgang strode towards Heinz. They watched as the young nobleman, cane in hand to support himself, made his way carefully down the wet slope.

Pushing through the bushes, Heinz saw the wagon, but no sign of horse or driver. In the back, personal possessions, mainly blankets and clothes, lay strewn as if they had been hurriedly searched. Ominously,  he discovered a single crossbow bolt embedded in the front of the wagon, close to the driver's seat.

Bandits. The horse and anything of value would be gone, and the wagon's owners would be dead or worse.

The faintest flicker of sympathy for the fate Esther might endure played across Heinz's and passed. His thoughts turned to himself. He quickly climbed into to wagon bed and rummaged amongst the clothing. As he suspected, the bandits hadn't looked closely, and there were some relatively well made garments in amongst the rags. Heinz grabbed the best shirt, breeches and tunic he could find and stuffed them into his bag. He smiled to himself, they weren't the best quality, but they were better that his filthy travelling clothes.

"What have you found, lad?" Garil asked as he crashed through the undergrowth.

Heinz quickly put his bag behind his back turned his attention to the Dwarf and Wolfgang, who had made their way down the hill.

"Whoever they were, looks like bandits got them," Heinz replied, "I was just thinking we should distribute these clothes amongst the group."

"Not a bad idea," said Wolfgang as he pushed his way forwards to inspect the halter and tack, these haven't been cut, with a few men I'm sure we could get this wagon on the road."

"And then what?" responded Heinz dismissively. "We don't have anything to pull it. Unless you suggest hitching up mules?"

"What about your horse?" asked Garil. The frosty look that Heinz shot him answered the Dwarf in no uncertain terms. He wasn't sure how he'd upset the young man, but it was clear that this issue wasn't up for discussion. He also noted the Wolfgang had also visibly balked at the idea, suggesting that he said something foolish.

Garil put the issue out of mind, "well, let's get these rags up the hill."

The three of them quickly stuffed the clothes into a couple of sacks that were in the heap and began to haul them up the hill. Back at the road, Wolfgang and Garil passed amongst the travellers and distributed garments and blankets as best they could to a grateful crowd.

Heinz came last, hauling a bundle and what looked like an abacus, drawing an enquiring look from Rudgier.

"The bandits must have overlooked it, or thought it worthless," said Heinz, responding to the unmasked question, "I thought we might be able to sell it in Masserschloss."

Rudiger nodded at the sense in the man's actions. They might need to sell a god few things before long, just to feed themselves. His thoughts turned briefly to how low the food supplies were. At least he had his faith to nourish him.

The ragged caravan began to move again, and people turned their faces away from the wagon. The tried not to think about what may have happened to its owners.

The day drew on. The road continued south for some time before bending east. From time to time, faint tracks betrayed the possible existence of settlements some distance from the road. Only once did a wider path branch off, but the caravan headed the advice of Markus and continued along the paved road to Masserschloss. All the time, the smoking mountain, now on their right, grew larger and closer. 

Despite the quality of the road, they saw nobody else on it, save for a small group of charcoal burners moving slowly ahead of them. As the refugees closed on then, the broad shouldered men dropped their loads and stood to the side of the road as the Imperial travellers passed by. Pleasantries were exchanged, but Garil noted the men's hands placed warily on their weapons. Whatever Markus had said about the outriders protecting it, this wasn't a safe land.

Several hours passed. The rain came, thin and pervasive. Soaking the travellers down to their bones as the landscape continued to crawl by. The only change in view was the mountain of smoke edging closer and a line if hills slowly appearing in the distance. Occasionally, the scrub and trees would stray close to the road and everyone's breath would be held in anticipation of potential ambush.

Heinz was still ahead, nominally scouting for trouble. The sun was beginning to dip when he saw something odd in the trees ahead. He cautiously rode forward to see a brutal sight that cut him to the core.

Three of the thicker trees by the side of the road had been stripped of their lower limbs. Each had the corpse of a man roughly nailed to it with thick iron spikes. The looks on the stricken faces suggested to Heinz that these brutalised people had not been dead when their punishment had been administered.

Their 'crime' was clear enough. Two of the bodies had clear and visible mutations. One had a cluster of livid purple appendages sprouting from his throat and chest. They looked not unlike fingers that lacked the rigidity provided by bones. The other had a mouth that had hardened and elongated to form something like a bird's beak. Who knew what other mark the third body held?

Above the central corpse, the one with the 'beak,' a rough sign had been put up, bearing a simple statement, "deth to monsters".

Heinz felt sick. Was the answer to humanity's fear of the warping influence of Chaos really this level of brutality? He knew from the experience of his father's serfs that mutation struck families randomly. Were these really 'monsters'? Or were they just poor unfortunates, driven out of their communities only to be tortured and killed for simply existing? Was this really the only way?

Sickened, Heinz turned his horse around and rode back to the others. It would be best if the womenfolk and children were to avert their eyes as they passed.

Warning delivered, Heinz rode quickly ahead, not wanting to look at the grisly sight again. He also had no stomach for hearing Rudiger celebrate the rooting out of corruption with one of his interminable sermons.

The the afternoon became evening and a camping site was found. The remaining wagons were used to provide a sort of central strong point in the camp, and the youngest and oldest were encouraged to sleep beneath them out of the rain. Tents were pitched around the wagons, but no fires could be lit. Food was scarce too. People huddled together, hungry and shivering until exhausted sleep took them.

Heinz had volunteered to watch. He couldn't sleep yet anyway. Images of the impaled bodies lodged behind his eyes. He avoided contact with the other man, whose name escaped him, as he was in no mood for small talk. He stared into the darkness and thought of the soft beds, and softer bodies, of his days in Talabecland.

Suddenly he became aware of a light in the darkness. At first he thought he was imagining it. However, some way away, directly away from the road, a light definitely flickered in the dark.

Quickly, the nobleman roused a few others. Garil, Rudiger and two other men, Mattias and Karl-Heinz. Heinz pointed out the light.

"Lucky bastards," grumbled Garil, "how'd they get a fire going?"

"Do you reckon they'd let us share it?" offered Matthias.

Rudiger scowled, "they're a good way off, no point rousing everybody. I could take my lantern over there and bring a light back. I could also check if they're a threat."

"You shouldn't go alone," said Karl-Heinz.

"Good point," added Garil with a grin, "you and I should go with him."

Karl-Heinz looked horror stricken at this suggestion, and Heinz had to stifle a laugh.

"That's settled then," said Rudiger, "we'll head that way, see who they are and see if we can at least get some fire."

Despite the dark, cold and wet, Rudiger felt better to be doing something. He had been waiting to be shown where his path should lead. A veritable light in the darkness seemed as good an omen as any. He gripped his flail in one hand and his unlit lantern in the other, prepared for whatever course of action Sigmar required him to take.

Garil stumped through the undergrowth behind the snivelling and whimpering Karl-Heinz. The Dwarf was certain that if this did go bad, the human would be more of a hindrance than a help. Rudiger was a stout sort, so at least he wouldn't be fighting alone. 

The land was slowly rising as they walked. It appeared that the light was atop a small rise, and as they approached, Garil could make out trees surrounding what might be a small campfire. He slid his warhammer out of his belt as they got closer.

Suddenly, there was a shower of sparks, and everything went dark. Somebody must have kicked out the fire. They'd been spotted.

Everything was quiet as the three edged slowly forward. Having lost the element of surprise, Rudiger tried a more diplomatic approach.

"Hello," he called, "we didn't mean to startle you. We were just hoping that we could share your fire. It's a cold night."

No answer. Only the wind and the patter of rain on the leaves. Although Garil could swear that he heard the faintest cry, as if from a muffled baby.

With no reply, the three pressed on into the camp site. There were signs that a small group had been here, but they were clearly travelling light, as nothing has been left as they fled. Even the fire had been stamped out totally, meaning that the few flickering embers were not enough to light the lamp.

Tired, cold an frustrated at their futile mission. The three companions turned back to their own camp.

The morning brought further bad news. One of the mules had disappeared from where it had been tied. It seemed bizarre that it could have got out of the camp without disturbing somebody. Without it being led, at least.

The caravan took to the road again, the landscape rising in the north east, until, after only about an hour's journey, they arrived at a junction. It was presumed that this was the road that Markus had told them led to the Sweetwater mine.

A man called Gunter loudly declared, "I don't know about anybody else, but I'm done with travelling."

There was a murmur of agreement in the crowd.

"I'm taking my kin up to this here mine," Gunter continued, "that Markus fella said that there would be work if we wanted it. Now I know nothing about mining, but I'm willing to learn. I can't think that it would be worse than being cold and hungry on the road, waiting for bandits or worse to take me."

The man was clearly speaking what many had privately thought. Heads were nodding, and some were speaking in agreement.

Mattias shouted up, "Gunter's right. We came on this road to find a better life. That means settling somewhere. Why not here? We might at least be welcomed. And if we're turned away, we're no worse off."

Gunter took over again, "I'm not going to tell other folks what to do, but I'm going to Sweetwater, and I'd suggest you come too, at least for a time. Then you can continue your travels if it's not yo your liking. What do you say?

A ripple of assent ran across the group. Only four faces seemed impassive.

Wolfgang knew his brother. Being a miner would not have called to him, and so the Nordlander would continue on to Masserschloss. He was sure he'd find news in the taverns and inns there. Perhaps his brother might even have left him a message.

The thought of becoming a miner did not appall Garil. Not yet though. He'd put off his reckoning long enough. His road led east.

The thought of becoming a miner did appall Heinz. He did not know what fate had in store for him, but he was certain it did not involve a menial job amongst peasants. Masserschloss must hold better opportunities and diversions than this.

Rudiger brooded on the night before. No. This wasn't his calling. This wasn't Sigmar's path if anything, the misadventure in the dark had taught him that straying from his path, no matter how tempting the reason, would only lead to darkness.

And so, a short time later, the four companions watched as the bedraggled travellers they had come so far with took the path into the hills. Farewells were given and blessings were offered.

No, their fate was not to be a life of honest toil in the mines. And so Garil, Heinz, Wolfgang and Rudiger turned their faces south.

Towards Masserschloss.

Renegade Crowns

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