Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Report Posted January 30, 2003 Hydrus Visitor Posts: 1 (1/15/02 5:12:54 am) Reply Dead and Buried -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC: Please reply with any comments or critisms, I am only too happy to hear them. IC: Prologue The Scribe hurridly searched the ancient bookcase, just one of the many dusty and, for the most part, boring stacks of scrolls, books, tomes and other assorted writings. He raised the buring torch a little higher, and ran his eyes along a shelf. Finally, he found the book he was searching for. Carefully taking it off the shelf, and opening it to unleash a cloud of dust, the Scribe ran a single finger along the cracked anf yellowed pages, until he found the passage his had been sent to find. He read it with dread, a pure loathing, yet some strange dark force fueled hi curiosity enough for him to continue to study the blasphemous text: "In that dread desert, beneaths the Moons pale gaze, the dead men walk. They haunt the dunes in that breatheless, windless night. They brandish their weapons in mocking challenge to all life, and sometime, in ghastly dry voices, like the rustling of sere leaves, they whisper the one word they remember from life, the name of their ancient dark master. They whsiper the name Nagash ." From the Book of the Dead by Abdul ben Raschid translated form Arabic by Heinrich Kemmler CHAPTER ONE: DARK TIDINGS Lightning flashed, crackling down from the ebon sky, illuminating the wastes for a few misshappen seconds. The black foot hills stretched on for miles, dead or dying trees providing the only change from the bleak, grassless terrain. Rain pounded down from the midnight sky, coating everything in a silvery tinge. The Black Coach flew along the potholed road, clattering every few moments. The driver cowered under a black cloak, holding the reins with all his strength. The four mighty black stallions at the front pulled the coach along at break neck speed, lifting it rght off the ground in several places. But the pale skinned occupants of the Coach barely noticed. The two of them, a man and a woman, were dressed in regal robes of the purest black, eyes dark against pale white face, and all too finely made teeth bent in a cruel smile as they looked into each others eyes with dark love. They could practicly read each others thoughts, and were more deeply in love than any mortal could conceive. Suddenly, the coach slowed, grinding to a halt as the horses neighed with fright. Vlad von Carstein leaned out the small curtained window and shouted at the driver. "What causes this interuption?" "Horsemen approaching my lord, four of them." "Human?" "Difficult to tell my lord, could be fellow Nobility." "Let them approach then." "Of course, my lord." The horsemen galloped along the barren road at terrifying speed, a speed which not even the greatest elven riders of Ulthuan could maintain for long. They pulled up beside the coach, and the driver spoke. "Who goes there?" "A messenger from the south." Inside the coach, Vlad heard, and turned to his wife. She nodded, and shouted with a commanding voice; "What news, Servant?" The horseman in the lead turned and dismounted, and knelt on the ground beside the coach, oblivious to the mud and lashing rain. The horsemen had to shout to be heard. "My lord and lady, I bring news from your agents in Estalia. They say he has awoken." The couple were silent. "Whom?" The Horseman shifted uncomfortably, but his face was hidden to the searching eyes of the couple. "My lord and lady, I dare not speak his name." Something flashed in Vlad von Carsteins eyes. "Did ye come all the way from Estalia to waste our time, Servant? You name us, yet you dare not speak of this mysterious being. That would imply a disrespect. Tell us now, lest ye fall to the road side to be forgotten with the dust!" Vlad ordered. The horseman wavered for a moment, then decided that the present danger was the one to fear most. "They say, lord and lady, they say Nagash has been reborn." he said slowly. Vlad sat back in his plush seat. He contemplated this news for several moments. "It's time we gave our friends in Estalia a visit, don't you agree, Isabella?" Isabella smiled gleefully. "Oh, I do, dearest, I do. Onwards driver!" ***************************** Two days later, and two hundred miles to the south, a tall man with a moustache sat down at a table in the Beer Garden of the Halfling Hot Pot Inn. It was a clear sunny day, and the man was obviously in good spirits as he handed a frothy beer to his companion. "You owe me eight Geld, Hydrus." he grinned. His companion didn't. He was a dour looking dwarf who was wearing a tattered brown cloak. A dirty but none the less bright orange mowhawk erupted out of his head. "Bah, that puts us even for that time I saved you from that Chimera in the Mountains of Mourn." His companion frowned at this. "I could have taken them." "With a broken arm?" "Well, it would have been a close fight." He grinned again. Hydrus smiled slightly, then took a swig of his beer. "Well? What do you think?" said the man with the moustache. Hydrus screwed up his face. "Watery, tasteless stuff. Terrible." The man laughed. "That, my friend, is the best beer in the Empire." "The Empire can keep it." The man thought for a minute. "So, where are we headed next? Kislev to battle hordes of brutal Beastmen? East to slay armies of Orcs? West to take on a Wood Elf host?" "We're going Estalia." "Why? Whats in Estalia?" "More what isn't in Estalia." "Ahh, and whats that?" "The Empire." "Care to explain?" Hydrus glanced up. "I may have damaged a Temple in Middenheim. Slightly. Accidently of course." The man burst into laughter. "You're encouragable Hydrus." The dwarf finished his beer with a sigh. "Right, let's go then, Louen. It's a good step to Estalia." ************************************* Achates coughed loudly, snapping the reverant silence that usually coated the Library at The College of Eradication Magik in Altdorf. He glanced around nervously, spotting the huge form of the Master walking towards him. Achates gulped. He didn't know what he'd done, but it was bound to be bad if the Master was after him. Maybe he'd missed an important lecture on Summoning? Or had one of his experiments gone awry and blown up a town house? Either way, it was bound to be bad. Achates avoided eye contact and ducked down a side isle. He power walked in the opposite direction, head down. He made it out into the marble foyer and moved towards the large wooden double doors. "Achates! Stop, boy!" Achates stopped dead. He spun around, trying hard to smile. The large think frame of the Master loomed over him, robes flowing down behind the huge man. "My lord, what a pleasant surprise! What is your wish?" "Better to talk in the Retirement Room." ******************* Achates sat down in the plush red arm chair in the Retirement Room. It was a cosy warm room, a wood fire crackled cheerily on a single log, and even that log was there merely for aesthetic reasons, the fire was permant, one of the few advantages of studying at the Eradication College, thought Achates, is that you're never cold. The Master sat down in a chair facing Achates, a troubled expression on his normally unexpressive and strong face. "I have a job for you, Achates. "A job, sir?" "Indeed. How do you feel about a bit of travel?" "It depends heavily on the destination, Sir." "Estalia." "Estalia, my lord? That is quite a way. May I ask as to my errand there?" "Well, Achates, it's a delicate subject. I," but the Master was stopped by a knock at the door. "Enter." The door swung open silently, and at the door was a tall man dressed in the robes of a Reiksguard Knight. He was tall, well built, blonde haired. He didn't smile. "Ahh, Captain Alcadan, welcome. Please, be seated." "Thankyou, Lordship." The man sast down at a chair nearest the Master, and stared intently at Achates. Immeadiately Achates disliked him. He was obviously one of those pompos Reiksguard officials, too engrossed in their own wealth and possesions to possibly know a thing about the defence of the Realm. Technicly, the Reiksguard were the Elite knights of the Emperor, but in practise they were more members of the Altdorfian nobility, doing less fighting than a common peasant. "Captain, this is Achates Valorem, a Student here. Achates, meet Captain Alcadan." "Good Evening, Captain." said Achates, trying hard not to judge the Knight. "Good Evening, Achates. Has the Master spoken to you of our task?" "Not as yet, no." So, they were to go together? Well, thats just brilliant, thought the Student. "I was just about to say, Captain, that not a word mentioned here leaves this room. No friends, no family, no one, is to hear of this. As I say, it is a sensitive subject, and the fewer who know about it, the better." Achates heart raced. Usually, you could drop a trogdolyte on the Master and he wouldn't so much as raise an eyebrow, but he was being very careful tonight. "I say this because the task I will ask you to do involves a rather delicate Diplomatic problem. Two weeks ago, a Regiment of Estalian Militia was ambushed. There were no survivors. They were escorting a trade Caravan from Ka-Sabar in Araby to Estalia. Officially, the Empire dosen't know what was in those Caravans. Unofficially however, our spies know for certain that it was Warpstone. Tell me, Achates, what do you know about Warpstone?" Achates gulped. He didn't know much, other than it was very rare and very illegal. "Not very much, I'm afraid Lordship. Anyone caught with it in the Empire would receive the death sentence I believe." The Master nodded. "I would be more worried if you knew a lot of the stuff. Indeed, Warpstone is an evil substance. Physicly, it is a green rock hard substance, and it glows with an inner light. It is not on any of the Element Tables in the Imperial Laboritories, for it has one property that makes it more dangerous than most other substances in the Old World. It attracts magic like a magnet. The winds of magic are drawn to it from across the lands. Swollowing it kills all but the most powerful individuals. Deranged Wizards sometimes think they can handle it's powers, and try to consume it. I can tell ye, this is a dark substance indeed. If Estalia is importing it, it's bad news." There was a moments silence. "If this stuff is so poisonous, why is it a problem if the Estalians think they can use it Lordship?" Achates asked hesitantly. "Because, Achates, the main use of Warpstone is in the manufacture of Undead." OK. Thats a good reason, thought Achates. "Warpstone added to a skull of a skeleton makes any ressurection ritual far easier. So that is why your mission is of such high importance." explained the Master. "Forgive me Lordship, but you haven't yet explained the nature of our mission." pointed out Achates. "I shall come to the point. I want you and Captain Alcadan to go to Estalia, find out the important facts about this importation ofWarpstone. We need to know how much, where, how, by whom, and when. And we need to know soon. If someone in Estalia is raising an army of Undead, then we need to know about it." "But Lordship, didn't you say the Warpstone was stolen?" "Indeed I did. At present, we believe it was the Brettonaians who were responsible. They may well know more than we do. But, our information shows that this Caravan was a but a small piece of Warpstone. There is more being imported to Estalia as we speak, and this time the Brettonians may not be able to stop it." "Lordship, why do you need us? Surely you could just continue to use your professional spies in Estalia?" "I doubt that very much Achates, because they're dead." Achates gulped again. All this time, Captain Alcandan had barely moved a muscle. He still sat motionless, staring straight into Achates. The Master cleared his throat. "Tommorrow at noon, a coach will leave the City Square for Middenheim, where you will board the Imperial Frigate Revelation which will take you directly to Estalia. The entire journey will take twelve days. Once in Estalia, you are free to do as ye deem fit, use any means neccesary to find the Warpstone. Should anyone attempt to stop you, you may use either might or magic to stop them. We'll clear it up with the Estalians. Diplomatic immunity and all that. Until then, Good evening Gentle men." And without knowing why, Achates got up and went straight to his dormitory for a dreamless sleep.
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 gwaihir1 Poet Posts: 67 (1/15/02 7:57:53 am) Reply Re: Dead and Buried -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fascinating. This certainly goes on my list of stories that I'll keep up to date with.
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 peredhil31 Elder of Lists and Manners Posts: 838 (1/15/02 10:30:14 am) Reply ezSupporter Feedback -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm a-likin' it so far. If you use the ezcodes to format, it will make it easier to read for some of our visually impaired/browser challenged readers. -Peredhil
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Gyrfalcon25 Bard Posts: 183 (1/15/02 10:05:56 pm) Reply Re: Feedback -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Gyr grins and sits back for more*
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Hydrus Visitor Posts: 2 (1/16/02 5:00:03 am) Reply Chapter Two -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER TWO: REVELATIONS Just south of Estalia, Ulag Bonesmasha stepped up onto a large flat rock to address his assemlbled orc band. He was bedecked in full war gear, and he surveyed the Orc Clan in it's entirity of forty of so with pride. "Alrite ladz. Come ta orda. LADZ!" he roared. "Dat's betta. Now, we iz all here taday to smash some 'umies. Da big skele man says 'e will giv uz some rite nasty clubs an' sords iv we get 'im da shiny green stuff off da humie caravans. Does we want sum more clubs an' sords?" "YEAH!" "An' does we wanna bash sum of da humies?" "YEAH!" "Den let's go kick sum humie butt!" "WAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHH!!!" ************************ Hydrus squinted hard into the distance. The red dirt road stretched out into hazy oblivion as the heat obscured it's end. Louen glanced at his friend, but knew better than to interrupt him. He stroked his moustache, and adjusted his pack. It weighed heavily on him, and his arm still wasn't as strong as usual. Finally, Hydrus turned away from the horizon and wiped his brow. The sun glared down at them from a cloudless sky, forcing their bodies to continually sweat and their water supplies to dwindle. They were travelling through the foothills of the Grey Mountains, and hopefully they would soon reach the Brettonian held Quenelles Pass, and head directly south into Estalia. "See anything interesting?" said Louen casually. "Not sure. There's something there." They walked on in silence for a few more moments, then Hydrus stopped dead. "What?" said Louen. "Can you hear that?" Louen halted and pricked his ears up. Silence hung over the rocky hills like a veil. He heard nothing. "Sorry old chap, looks like my ears aren't as good as yours." "Shhhh! listen." Louen frowned by tried again. And there it was, faintly, the sounds of clashing, sowrds on shields. "Battle?" "Hmmm." "What do we do?" "Wait." "Wait?! But what if it's an invasion? What if the Brettonians are fighting a horde of Orcs? What if the Wood Elves are invading?" "I'm not going to fight for no reason." "You're a Slayer for Sigmars sake! You're supposed to be battle hungry and blood thirsty! You'er supposed to soak up war like a sponge! Why not go in and get your mission over and done with?" The dwarf remained calm. "My ears are better than yours. There are Brettonians, I can hear the horses, but I can't hear any enemy." "Strange. Well, if they're aren't any enemies, why don't we head in?" "Wait." Louen recognised Hydrus' tone. It was the tone he always used when he wanted to finish an argument whilst trying to convince that he knew what he was doing. The dwarf rarely used that tone, but he was also rarely wrong. They waited a full ten minutes, doing nothing but listening. Louen shifted from one foot to another. Finally, Hydrus waved his hand. "Let's go." The companions walked into the fort of Quenelles which straddled the Pass. It was strewn with obvious signs of a large battle. Smoke wafted lazily from one of the black stone turrets, and slain warriors lay everywhere. There were a few brightly dressed horsemen, the famous Brettonian Knights of the Realm, but there were far more bodies which were endlessly more disturbing, bleached white human bones littered the ground. Skeletons. Undead. The horrible realisation crept into Louen mind like the Creeping Vines used by the Verdant Mages. He shuddered. He'd only seen Undead once before, and it was one too many times. Hydrus on the other hand had fought the minions of the Undeath dozens of times. His grandfathers had fought against the Tomb Kings of Khremi at the Battle of Dragonback in the Empire. It was in his blood to kill those that were already dead. Still, he suspected it didn't make the expreience any easier. Hydrus unstitched his massive axe from his pack. It gleamed in the midday sun, the intricate red Runes glowing softly in response to the dark magic that still lingered on the battle field. Louen likewise drew his longsword. They crept silently among the fallen, slowly making their way towards to the damaged Castle ahead of them. The huge portcullis that normally barred the way south to Estalia had been battered by a giant log, it had held, but only just. Hydrus glanced around, and then moved towards a heavy looking wooden door to the side of the portcullis. Knocking twice sharply, he boomed out a typical dwarf greeting; "Open or I shall break it down!" His voice snapped the eerie silence which still clung in the air. It was only a few moments before a voice called back in a Brettonian accent. "Who goes there?" Louen placed the voiceon the parapet above them. "Travellers from the Empire! Open this damned door!" roared Hydrus. The door swung open silently. A short unhealthy looking man wearing the tattered uniform of a Squire appeared. He looked over the duo quickly. "Names?" "Hydrus Hydrobear." said the Dwarf. "Louen Jellar." The squire made a note on a piece of paper. "Destination?" "Estalia." "Buisness or pleasure?" Louen raised an eyebrow. Who in their right mind would go to Estalia for fun? Hydrus answered. "Buisness." Presently, another Squire ran up to the first, whispered in his ear, then stepped back, staring rudely at Hydrus. The first one turned and grinned. "You're wanted in the Empire you know Mr Hydrobear?" "Really? I didn't notice." Hydrus stared back. The Squire ignored him. "We have an Alliance with the Empire you know? They give us our criminals, we give them theirs." Hydrus gripped his Axe tighter, and took a step foward, but Louen jumped in front of him, facing the Squire. "Had a few fights eh?" he said quickly. The Squire shrugged. "Maybe." "Looks like Undead to me." The Squire eyed him carefully. "Undead. Nasty critters. You know Nether magic is highly illegal?" The Squire looked at the ground. "I know it. Got a point?" Hydrus stared at the man with a gaze that would have made an Orc blush. Louen struggled to keep him from decking the man there and then. "Looks to me that they're on your side of the Border. That would imply that they came from you Bretts. Now I know that the Empire wouldn't be very happy to hear about that. They'd probably forget all about us to come down here kill a few hundred ugly little Squires like your good self. Wouldn't want that now would we?" The Squire shook his head. "Gonna open up the gates for us?" The Squire gave him a harsh look and then yelled into the hall behind him. "Piotr! Open up the Gates!" A moments silence, then the cranking hearlded the raising of the portcullis. Louen smiled and then walked over. Hydrus stared hard at the Squire, spat at his feet, then followed his friend. ***************************** Achates stepped warily out of the Coach and on to the cobblestone road of the Middenheim docks. He looked up at the giant Ship which dominated the busy scene. It was a three mast Frigate, a large ship by Imperial standards, and was the centre of attention on the frosty morning. A large brass sign on the side of the ship bore it's name, the Revelation. Captain Alcadan was walking up onto the ship via a boarding plank, being follwoed by a porter carrying several large cases. "Careful with that!" shouted Achates, all too wary of how much his experiment equipment cost. He grabbed a small bag and hurried after them. He was shown to his room by a cabin boy. It was little more than a dark nook with a cabinet and a hammock. Having never been on a ship before, Achates was quite put off by the continual creaking of the boards. He packed away a few of his belongings, then went up on deck. Achates noticed Captain Alcadan staring into the glistening ocean. The early morning sun danced playfully off the white crests of waves as they gently brushed against the ship. Any sailor would have counted his lucky stars to be out on a day like this. The pleasure was however, lost on Achates. "How old are you Achates?" "I'm twenty two sir." "You're intelligent then?" Achates hesitated. "Er, I like to think so Sir." he said, hoping it would break some of the ice. It didn't. "You'd need to be I suppose. Do you know why the Master chose you? I mean, instead of the other more talented and higher ranking students and scholars?" This caught Achates off guard. It hadn't even crossed his mind. "I, err, well, no Sir." "You're expendable." Achates had a mental blank. He couldn't quite get his thoughts around what Alcadan had said, but it did make sense. "Oh dear..." said Achates finally. For the first time, the Captain smiled. "Indeed. Don't worry, Valorem, you'll be fine with me." he paused. "Do you know what they call this Sea, Achates?" "Why, every school child knows its the Sea of Claws, Captain." "Yes. And do you know why they call it this?" Achates thought for a moment. "I'm afriad I don't know, Captain." "Because when the first humans went to sea, the Phantasmic Elves of Ulthuan brought their powers against them by summoning up giant claws from the water to grab and throw their boats about. I cannot imagine what they made of it. And this, this is the very same waters which were there two thousand years ago at the birth of humaity. A rather disconcerting story, isn't it Achates?" "Very, Captain." *********************************************** Six hundred miles north of where Hydrus and Louen were, in the far north of Brettonia at the capital Couronne, King Leonceur of Brettonia stared at his Intelligence Advisor with a harsh frown. "Attacked?" "Indeed, my Lord." "Who won?" "Well, we did Sire. The Battle report the Squire sent us shows that the garrison of Knights of the Realm perished in the battle, but a small contingent of Archers was able to force back the invaders from atop the battlements." "Was there any damage to the fortress?" The Advisor glanced over the report in his hand. "Slight damage to the portcullis, a fire in one of the towers, nothing major sire." The King nodded. "Dispatch a regiment of Knights immeadiately to reinforce the fortress. Send messages of my most sincere condolances to the families. Oh, and inform The Empire, they should probably know about this." The Advisor hesitated. "Uhhh, Sire, perhaps that may not be the most wise course of action." "And why not?" "Well sire, the attackers, they were Undead." "Undead? The Estalians....they must have more waprstone than we estimated." "Actually Sire, the Undead were on our side of the border. We cannot tell the Empire of this because they would instantly send a massive army and turn half the Castles in Brettonia upside down looking for the source. Whoever," the Advisor hesitated, " whatever sent the Undead is most likely within Brettonia even as we speak." *********************************************** Isabella von Carstein took the hand of her husband and alighted from the Black Coach. As she looked up into the night sky, and a strange thought entered her mind. A distant memory, from before she became one of the Nobility, a memory so differant and unlike what she was now that it might as well have been from a differant life. This was a memory from a mortal. She sat on the steps of her family townhouse, a young girl, staring up into the sky just as she was now, the large warm figure of her father sitting beside her. "There is a story, Isabella, that the night sky is a giant sheet. A massive cover of the purest black, seperating our mortal world from the paradise of Heaven. The stars are tiny pin pricks from the spears of the Gods, tiny holes letting just a tiny dot of heavenly light down from above. The size of the light dosen't matter, it is it's existence that gives us hope that we might one day cross that giant sheet to the glory above...." "Isabella! Dear, are you ill?" The Vampiric Countess awoke with a start from her daydream. She looked down to her Husband, standing there with such care, such concern in his otherwise cold and heartless eyes. "Yes, yes of course Vlad. I am fine. We have arrived?" "Indeed. I am ready to begin the spell. Shall we?" Vlad smiled. Isabella nodded and they walked foward towards the edge of the cliff. Earlier that day they had sent forth a large regiment of skeletons to take control of Quennelles Pass so as to allow them easy passage to Estalia. Although they had not expected such a defeat, the Von Carsteins were not unprepared. The summoning of the skeletons had left them with little mana left, but the Vampires were intelligent creatures, they had with them a number of mana crystals with which they could cast a teleportation spell to move them directly into Estalia. They had to be within a certain distance of their destination, and it was extremely expensive work, both in mana and energy. Clearing his mind, Vlad Von Carstein looked out over the cliffs of the Grey Mountains, facing south towards Estalia. Clutching the glowing Mana crystal in his hand, he and his wife directed all their power to the delicate spell. Incandescent magic erupted from their bodies, coating the surrounding region a purple glow, a moment later, they were gone. Garbold the Coachman watched the empty air for several moments, then sighed and flicked the reins and began the journey back to Slyvania.
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