Hitting the Road
It was determined that Sigmar required his Initiate to be elsewhere before the seasons changed. After bidding a fond farewell to young Initiate of Sigmar, the Heroes make way for the City of Ubersreik upon the requested audience with Vern Hendrick, Lord Rikard Achaffendberg’s most trusted liaison. However, the young wizard apprentice, Volkel continues to read the correspondence from his headmaster, Gavious Klugge. The letter he holds indicates there may be other powers at work at the destination and he must find the local wizards of jurisdiction as soon as possible. The Letter reads as Thus:
My Most Loyal Student,
Word of your, shall we say heroics, have reached my ear in Altdorf. Indeed, it is quite a tale, and as you know, will likely require a significant amount of investigation and verification. It will take my runners months to interview the witnesses. The members of the Aschaffenberg court here in the capital have spoken highly of you and your companions.
Know that I am deeply saddened to hear about the demise of young Martin Lictor, and the state at which he met his fate. It is always tragic when young men of magic pursue a power that is impossible to achieve. My hope is that what you have experienced has provided you with a tome of knowledge that few will ever learn in their career with this college. If I believed in the Gods, I suppose I would wish Herr Lictor well…but I do not believe in such things. It is also unfortunate that one of Lord Aschaffenberg’s wife’s brothers, Andreas von Brunor was also lost. Tragic, indeed.
There was a matter at hand…Ah, yes! I need you to return to Ubersriek at once. My old apprentice, and now respected spell-caster, Christoph Engel needs to fulfill his duties as the resident Grey Cloak. I have already dispatched several messengers without success. I hope this correspondence reaches you. You simply cannot depend on the help without the “Sight” these days. My lad, I have had to explain every last detail to some of these mouth-breathers. We won’t have to worry about dark gods if our own…ah, yes the point of this letter. Allow me to start over.
It appears that a handful of nobles, including our dear friend, Lord Aschaffenberg are vying to become liege lord of Ubersriek. This is in the wake of these disturbing reports of Chaos Cults and Herr Lictor’s recent fall from grace. Though I believe there to be no imminent danger from either source, noble families have been eager to claim Ubersriek as their own since the von Jungfreid Family nearly sparked a civil war! The Emperor granted Ubersriek status as a freidstadt since that time, removing the von Jungfrieds from power. Whispers of Chaos Cults and Greenskin Warbands makes the Emperor very open to the idea of appointing one of these squabbling noble families lordship of the town. A landless nobleman Baron Manfred von Holzenaur is planning the event of the season.
Please ensure that my good friend Christoph is in attendance of the Baron’s event and monitoring these bloated egos descending upon the river town. Remember, we need to make sure the College’s best interests are kept at the forefront of such…noble minds? Yes, yes indeed. If things go smoothly I will finally get around to reassessing your admission into our fine institution!
-GAVIOUS KLUGGE, MASTER WIZARD OF THE GREY ORDER
Post Script; I was just informed that you are currently one of my apprentices. Well Done!
Setting off on the scant used road from the Grunewald Estate to Ubersreik the Heroes take notice of the pale green light of the night. Morrslieb, the moon of the God of Death, the Chaos Moon, appears to almost be resting directly above where Ubersreik is located.
En route to the City of Ubersreik, the Heroes encounter a horrific scene of merciless slaughter on the road. A small farming community nested between Grunewald and Ubersreik was under assault by a maddened tribe of Beastmen. All of Laurelon had encountered these foul beasts of Chaos once before. A mighty Gor and his Ungor henchmen set fire to the most of village and were murdering the residents via pike impalement. None would be spared, women and children alike. The beasts could not resist the desire to taste man-flesh and began to tear the victims to pieces, some even before they died. A few farmers gather with their tools in a desperate attempt to survive. The Heroes, unnoticed could have simply bypassed the sickening scene but nonetheless, the party did not hesitate to charge into the fray. Laurelon and Drogin rained down arrows through the darkness upon the unwitting Ungors as Tarl marched down the road toward the mighty Gor. Thanks to the magical skills of Volkel, Tarl would survive the Gor’s charge as he was thrown through the air, only to rise and smite the creature with two swift swing of Korden’ Hammer, the artifact recovered from the bowels of Karak Dum.
In the aftermath of the destruction of their village, the remaining farmers were blessed by a sudden rain that would quench the fires set by the Beastmen. The party was thanked and beseeched with blessing, offering of food and drink. It was the most these Reiklanders could offer for the help. As the Heroes prepared to continue on their way Laurelon’s attention was drawn to one of only two surviving children of the village. The boy would ask the Wood Elf, “Are you a Forest Spirit?” Laurelon was confused, until Olaf, the boy’s father approached him, “Indeed he is a Forest Spirit, just like the others who blessed us with a visit at the planting, so they have come to save us at the harvest.” Shocked by the news that his Kinband was not only alive, but had passed through this area was welcome news. He learned that his dear brother, Lengosul, was still with them, heading north for Marienburg, the independent port city of the Empire.
After a brief disagreement, Laurelon agreed that he must honor his pledge to the apprentice wizard Volkel. He would continue to Ubersreik, but beyond that, he could not guarantee that he would remain Volkel’s guide. Laurelon had grown close to his companions and decided it was better to see them safe before he would continue his own journey to find his family and return to the mother forest.
A mile outside of Ubersreik, the party encounters a coach bearing flags with the Saponathiem Family coat of arms. The coach rested deep in the mud along the road. A well-dressed man with a well groomed beard leaned against a tree, watching his servant attempting to free the coach. The man, in his mid-thirties enlists the help of the heroes. Tarl’s brute strength is more than enough to free the coach. As a reward the condescending tone of the man became more and more apparent, but he does offer the company a ride into town and a bag of silver schillings for their trouble. As the heroes ride into town with Graf Siegfried von Saponathiem and his mother, the stiff Olga von Jungfreud, he explains the ins and outs of the city and the current state of affairs. He drops them off in the city square and points them in the direction of the Wharf District where they will not only match the stench, but maybe find a bed at the Red Moon Inn. Fortunately, the Red Moon Inn is exactly where they need to meet Vern Hendrick.
The Red Moon Inn rest at the water’s edge of the River Tuefel. The air is full of the smell of fish and the rough dockers, composed of humans and dwarfs alike unload the barges along the landings. Drogin leads the party to the Inn and reacquaints himself with some of the less savory characters located therein. In a secluded booth the companions sit with Vern Hendrick as he explains the reason he has called for the attendance. Lord Aschaffenberg’s most loyal manservant goes on to tell the group about the current goings on of Ubersreik’s high society. Due to the reports of Chaos Cults lurking the Grey Mountains, the ever increasing bold raids of Greenskin war-bands, and talented wizards going rogue has caught the attention of the Emperor. Word has spread throughout the Reikland that Karl-Franz intends to appoint a liege lord over Ubersreik. After only briefly enjoying their status as a “Free-State”, this news is welcomed by few, but the Emperor believes the ability to mobilize and muster is critical for this very important trade town. Vern knows his Lord is very new to the Game of Court. Many consider the Aschaffenbergs up-jumped nobles and would love nothing more than to see the family stripped of lands and title. Hendrick explains that Lord Rikard Aschaffenberg is an altruistic Sigmarite to a fault.
The band of ‘brash young fools’ agree to assist Vern and the Aschaffenbergs as much as they can, but made no promises. Volkel merely needs to finish his errand and the party can be on their way after a few days rest. They agree to report to Vern if they discover anything.
Out About Town
Drogin, made way for the secret Temple of Ranald, the God of thieves and mischief. There he encountered an old “frenemy” Fritz Schnell. Fritz attempts to recruit Drogin to the cause of Graf Siegfried von Saponatheim, by asking him for everything who knows about Aschaffenburg. Saponathiems agents had arrived several days prior and the underworld already has wheels in motion to spy on the visiting nobles, including the host of the ball, Baron Manfred von Holzenauer. Drogin would be wise to jump on the winning wagon while there’s still room. Drogin doesn’t forget that it was Schnell that landed him in detainment and servitude with the Sigmar Temple in the first place. He kindly refuses.
Laurelon paced about the town, continuing to grow inpatient, haunted by the words the farmers had told him about his Kinband. That is, until he passed the Old Bauer House. There, he would meet the beautiful Lorith’isa Silverleaf, a High Elf envoy from the free port city of Marienberg. This High Elf had never encountered a Wood elf before and so with unintentional arrogance she insists that Laurelon attend one of her salon’s she’s been hosting since her arrival. However, as Laurelon later discovers, Lorith’isa is a powerful elven mage on a very important mission of her own. That mission is to recover elven artifacts lost about the Old World. She also possesses dispatches detailing troop movements of the Empire and it’s enemies. War may be coming from the north and the elves are preparing themselves, though most humans may yet be unaware.
Tarl made way for the Dwarven Quarter of the city. The Dwarf Slayer known simply as Tarl arrived at the Ax and Hammer Inn and was quickly granted an audience with the most respected Long-Beard in the region, Grodni Surehammer. Surehammer and the dwarfs would toast to the Slayer’s fate and sang drunken songs of his tale. Tarl showed his elder the Hammer of Thane Korden that he found deep in the lowest dungeon of Karak Dum. Grodni said Thane Korden’s kin had long since moved to the World Edge Mountains, through Black Fire Pass and the Border Princes. Should Tarl the Slayer return the artifact to it’s proper clan, perhaps he may fulfill his Oath, or at least increase his chances of perishing with honor. The fest of dwarfs carried on into the late evening.
Volkel searched into the night for a small alleyway in the city simply known as Wizard’s Way in hopes of locating the local Grey Wizard, Christoph Engl. Making his way through rough streets bathed in the unnatural green light of Morrsleib, Volkel discovered a small tower swirled in shadows. Volkel quickly discovered the tower was merely a magic illusion and that Engl resided in the abandoned Scribe Shop across the street. Volkel attempts to fulfill his duty by giving the College’s Orders he carries via Gavious’s letter to the reclusive, fidgety wizard. Engl refuses acceptance and insists he continue his important work, which is to rid the sky of the chaos moon Morrsleib. The teacher and the student work out a deal over a hot cup of tea; Volkel shall fulfill Engl’s obligations to the Achaffenberg’s, while Engl himself continues to find the source of Morrsleib’s gravitational pull. Engl will then provide the recommendation Volkel needs to take the next step in his wizard career and become an Acolyte. Though he is less than thrilled about the arrangement, Volkel sees a means to an end.
Volkel heads directly to the Temple of Verena, granting him access to it’s massive library. He spends hours and hours searching for more information about the noble families in play for liege lord of the city. Secretly though, Christoph Engl continues his research and is using Volkel to confirm his suspicions of the return of the fabled rat creatures Grodni Surehammer had warned him of a few years ago. As Volkel does the legwork in searching ancient texts, Engl arranges a meeting with the long-beard about a expedition into the sewers while the Masquerade Ball takes place.
Drogin takes to the streets, hoping to learn more about who might have an edge. He only returns with rumors of a man driven to murder by the madness of chaos and of rats killing a man in the warehouse district. Before heading to Lorith’isa Silverleaf’s salon, he advises Tarl to investigate the scene.
Meanwhile, under the surface in the dark sewer network, a bold Grey Seer of Skaven named Rasknitt is plotting his glorious invasion of the Empire. His war shall begin with a swift assault and takeover of the city of Ubersreik. Rallying Clan Eshin Gutter Runners to his cause, he moves to strike at the heart of the Empire, it’s leaders and nobility of the Reikland. With the strength of his newly acquired Rat Ogre Gristlegore, Rasknitt believes he has been chosen to become the aspect of the Great Horned Rat. The Grey Seer is the one who is actually holding Morrsleib in the sky with his magical “arcane orry.” He makes plans to strike at Midnight at the Manor House of the Masquerade. He sends an assassin the retrieve entry keys from the basement from Johan Brass, head of the Metal Workers Guild.
The Night of Blade
Drogin, Volkel and Laurelon all attend the High Elf envoy’s salon. The other guests include the head of the Town Council and the local head Priest of Sigmar, Gunther Emming. The table banter becomes heated quickly between the Sigmarite and the companions. However, Lorith’isa helps to keep heads cool with a stunning performance by her elven company of artists, especially with a display of “flexible” elven acrobatics and even more haunting songs of Ulthuan. Volkel immediately senses the overwhelming presence of magic being used throughout the evening. He is fascinated by the power of the elves.
Simultaneously, Tarl heads for the warehouse Drogin advised him to investigate. Morrsleib had other things in mind. Bathed in the eerie green light, several small creatures seemed to develop from nowhere, but likely materializing from the disease ridden sewers. The creatures, known as Nurglings ambush the sturdy dwarf, but soon realized, they are hopelessly outmatched. Tarl…smash! And soon, the foul things were once again reduced to a fine paste on the ground…GROUND.
At the conclusion of Silverleaf’s salon she pulls the heroes aside, coming clean about the dispatches she knows that Laurelon had seen just the day before. She confesses that she has no concern about the current affairs of Ubersreik politics. She, like many other elven diplomats are scouring the Old World for ancient weapons for what they believe will be a terrible battle with the forces of Chaos. She then reveals the positions of armies that appear to be gathering, though it appears the Empire is doing the same.
Once the party regroups at the Red Moon Inn, they discuss their discoveries in the early hours of the morning by candle light. The silence of the evening is shatter by the sounds of murder and then a thrashing in the river. Rushing into the green lit night they pull the body of Johan Brass from the river Tuefel. A crude, blasphemous blade is found lodged in his back. Drogin quickly realizes that the only reason to kill Brass would be to get his ring of keys. John Brass was the city’s locksmith for an age, and every thief in the city has tried to snatch those keys; which could include spare keys on many of the Noble’s mansions in Ubersreik.
After Christoph Engl advises the Heroes to seek out a set of missing pages he’s been searching for that may hold a key to the mystery, the party barges into the Temple of Verena once more. After a heated encounter with Heinrich Guttenberg, the local Verenian Priest, they obtain the missing account from the History of Ubersreik of a Reiksgaurd Soldier. Below is that account:
Here now is the account of the Reiksgaurd Sergeant Wilbert Kerrman, Son of Hans Kerrman, as dictated to Otto Emming, Bother of Holy Sigmar’s Temple, regarding the closing days of Orc Warband Chief, Gorbad Ironclaw’s siege of Ubersreik during the first Chaos War, dated Marktag 3rd, 1707.
As a member of what remained of the local Reiksguard, our duty that day was the same as it had been for the last four days, that is, to recover the dead from the battlefield and rest their souls in the priest in the Garden of Morr. Only a handful of us remained without any broken limbs, or broken minds from the Orc onslaught. I remember seeing that piles of dead greenskins were still burning outside the crumbled walls of the city. To be brief sir, we needed to rid the decaying flesh from the fields and streets, we needed to start rebuilding. Praise be to Sigmar that he Emperor paid Grodni Surehammer and his clan to stay with us and help us rebuild. Without them, we would’ve have had no chance. Some of the other soldiers though, they said that the dwarfs stayed behind because there was something else at work in these dreadful times. I mean, it’s almost as if they knew we were being watched from the shadows by an enemy ready to pounce on us at our most vulnerable.
I remember that night too well. So much death had come to us. Morrslieb had been high in the night sky for days. People had become very sick, being exposed to the morbid green light of that cursed moon. The Shallyan Sisters said it was actually attributed to all of the bodies of soldiers and townsfolk that still lay strewn about the grounds. We knew there had to be more to it than that. The dwarfs felt it too. To be truthful with you sir, it felt just like the night before the first attack by Gorbad Ironclaw and his warband that razed our fair city.
The previous night, what was left of the Watch received dozens of strange reports. Reports about little children wrapped in cloth, hunched over with long faces and red eyes. There were no children left in the city. Always in the shadows is where we would catch a glimpse of them, or at least, we would think we saw them. Always in the alley or even the rooftops, just out of sight, you know. I remember a couple dwarfs rushed down to the river, chasing what they said was a beastman. As soon as they returned, they began to gather their weapons and armor. That’s when Grodni Surehammer advised us to start doing the same. We waited all night for the beastmen to come at us from out of the wood. We all slept in our armor that night. The waiting was unbearable.
The next morning, what was left of the town’s citizens fled. They were to try and catch up with Emperor Magnus’s armies for protection. This only left us with thirty men, and maybe a dozen or so dwarf Ironbreakers.
That night they came! As Morrslieb was high in the green sky they came with a piercing screech! Hundreds of them, pouring from out of abandoned homes, the river banks and even…the sewers. At first I could not see anything, just masses of black hair and beady red eyes. We were all fighting for our very lives, swinging madly and connecting with soft, musty flesh. The screams of death were…inhuman. I could hear the dwarfs shouting to one another, their hammers and axes mercilessly smashing against the tide of black. I can still hear Surehammer’s maddening laugh. He was laughing!
Suddenly, there was an explosion! Streaks of lighting crackled over our heads, yet there was no storm. I could feel the hairs on my arm stand straight up. No longer was the air clouded with the mist of splattering blood, but with a thick, noxious green fog. The dwarfs kept shouting to us, but the sounds of battle were too deafening. The wind carried it swiftly to my battered rank of troops. Men began to choke and claw at their throats. Their tongues were extended and swollen, their eyes full of bloody tears. Gods! I can still see their dead horrific expressions as they vomited their own organs. I covered my face with my tunic and ran. I ran for my life! I couldn’t breathe! My eyes felt as though pure vinegar had been poured into them. I became weak and everything quickly darkened around me. I called out for my comrades, but I knew they were all dead…and soon Morr would take me as well. That is when I drifted into blackness, into death.
By Sigmar’s will, I awoke the next morning to Grodni Surehammer pulling me from the ash and rubble. He knelt to hand me his canteen. I drank it all. My throat felt as though I had swallowed razors, a feeling as dry as an Araby desert. He helped me to my feet and nudged my shoulder with a smile. He was covered in crusted pink flesh and blood, so much so that his armor was indiscernible. I searched the town for any of my company, but alas, they had all been slain. All that remained of the night before was a smoking heap of corpses as high as a two-story house. The dwarfs has been hard a work throughout the day. As I limped toward the pile, beckoned by morbid curiosity, I saw them toss on the last corpse on the pyre. The contorted…beast, was the size of man. It wore an elaborate skull mask with long, gnarly horns. Truly, a beast of chaos! But it was not like any beastman I had ever encountered in the northern Kislev Campaigns. This one wore armor and clutched a staff in its dead grip.
A dwarf snorted to me, “So much for The Great Horned Rat!” It was indeed a rat. A man-sized rat! The whole pile of burning corpses was rat men! “No…” the dwarf said to me, “Tis’ Skaven, lad…The Skaven!”
Sergeant Kerrman had suffered a most traumatic experience at the hands of Gorbad Ironclaw’s assault on Ubersreik. I am sure he is and will remain, deeply disturbed by the fact that he is the only survivor of his military company. Clearly, Kerrman lost track of time as it seemed the greenskin assault lasted for many weeks to him, perhaps the events ran together in a state of exhaustion. Therefore, he has concocted this elaborate fabrication. May Sigmar keep his soul. He was found three fortnights later dead in the sewers. The dwarfs have taken possession of his body to transport to Karak Azgaraz. No dwarf account has been offered or request. This investigation into a beastmen skirmish is dismissed.
-OTTO EMMING, BROTHER OF HOLY SIGMAR
Night of the Ball
Christoph Engl insisted that Volkel should definitely attend the Masquerade. Unbeknownst to the young Mage, Engl was counting on him to help defend the nobles should there be an attack, while he and Grodni Surehammer discover Rasknitt’s lair and the source of Morrsleib’s draw.
The companions don their frugal costumes provided by recently deceased cultists and enter the elegant ballroom of the von Holzenauer mansion. Here they help the Aschaffenberg’s play the game of court. They socialize with the well to do of the Reikland and other obscure provinces of the Empire. They work over the elite of Ubersreik’s guilds and the town council, rallying them to support Lord Rikard Aschaffenberg.
Not to be out done by a band of upstarts and an up-jumped family, Graf Siegfried von Saponathiem and his sinister mother, Olga von Jungfreud poison the ears of any who will listen, while the oblivious Baron von Holzenauer proclaims that he is the only one who can lead Ubersreik to victory should it be assaulted by greenskins or otherwise. Seeing the heroes gaining favor purely on their local reputation, the Graf instructs his manservant to slip schlaff into Rikard’s drink, which would make him violently ill in a matter of minutes. The Lord would then surely appear a clumsy, drunken fool. However, the party catches the servant in the act. Volkel boxes the servant over the ears and escorts him outside. After he reprimands the servant, Volkel notices a pack of dogs barking wildly at the well behind the manor house, though he thinks nothing of it and returns to the Masquerade just in time to see Drogin and Tarl finish their elaborate reenactment of the events of Grunewald.
Once Volkel returns into the Manor, dozens of Clan Eshin Gutter Runners emerge from the well. Cloaked and disguised as frail humans they quickly overpower the guards at the rear door. Using Johan Brass’s keys, the skaven slink down into the cellar, slitting the throats of two dwarfs tending to the barrels of ale and wine. The Gutter Runners signal that all is clear by knocking on a specific spot in the cellar floor. Gristlegore, the terrifying Rat Ogres breaks through the stone floor from the newly dug tunnel below. Rasknitt emerges from behind him with his band of Clan Rats. The Grey Seer instructs his most trusted Gutter Runner, Skreek to begin the plan and hands him a vial of warpstone concentrate. Rasknitt takes a couple sniffs of warpstone powder himself, as a cat does to catnip. Rasknitt then orders his “army” to race throughout the manner, killing noble and guard alike, causing as much fear as possible.
Skreek sneak into the ballroom undetected and empties the vial into the wine. Several of the companions notice him and warn those around them. However, they know it’s far too late to catch Skreek; they thrash around the ball, breaking and spilling as many glasses as possible. For those it was too late for, those men and women begin a terrifying and rapid mutation into Chaos Spawn. Tightly corseted women scream and faint, while the well-to-do noblemen run or faint as well.
Rasknitt, the Grey Seer then bursts through the doors of the upper veranda with his Gutter Runners, launching a volley of crossbow bolts into the manic crowd. Below, the Rat Ogre breaks down the door into the ball room. The companions battle a tidal wave of partygoers fleeing for the exit, while Tarl finds his hammers and calmly slings one over his shoulder, strolling toward the blood-thirsty monster.
The Hero’s shield themselves from the crossbow wielding skaven above. Realizing they are at a serious disadvantage and surely doomed if they fight it out from the low ground, Laurelon keeps his shot true and deals a devastating blow to Rasknitt. Several Gutter Runners rush the wounded Grey Seer from the battle. This allows the party to assist a mortally wounded Tarl, fighting to his last breath against Gristlegore. The Slayer is absent of any fear, realizing his honorable death is finally at hand. As the creature prepares the killing blow to the dwarf, it is pierced by Volkel’s blade! Though it was not nearly enough to slay the creature, it distracts it enough, allowing Tarl to crush the head of the monster on the marble floor with Korden’s Hammer. Then…the Slayer fades to black, collapsing beside his opponent.
The group collectively rallies and regains their composure…and consciousness with healing potions. Hearing the battle taking place outside the manor, Volkel rushes into the melee with his companions close behind. Tarl walks a little slower, but tries to keep up and keep awake.
Outside, the nobles and their guardsmen engage the Skaven Clanrats, knowing that the city garrison will arrive at any minute. Lord Aschaffenberg fires his master crafted with von Holzenauer who shouts about his days as a Pistolier in the Imperial Army. The market square is illuminated by a mansion that is engulfed in flames; Rasknitt is silhouetted in front of it. Seeing the hero’s approaching, the Grey Seer casts vicious blood lust on his Clan Eshin body guards, sending them to attack Drogin and Tarl with their poisoned throwing stars. However, the quick thief and even a badly injured dwarf manage to overcome them.
Volkel rushes toward Rasknitt himself. The two beings of magic clash, but Volkel is clever and strategically withdraws using his power of shadow. He wheels around behind the Grey Seer to prepare his fatal strike, though he suffers the pain of a fiery, collapsing column of the mansion’s porch. From afar, Laurelon’s aim is once again true as a sleek elven arrow crashes into the skaven wizard.
In desperation, Rasknitt launches a powerful lightning storm directed at the wood elf, rendering the archer unconscious from pain. Volkel seizes the opportunity and strikes Rasknitt with his blade. Seeing that his magnificent force is being routed, he thinks he surely must have been betrayed! He must fight another day to seek revenge of the traitors, human and skaven alike. He vanishes from Volkel’s sight, reappearing at the sewer entrance, quickly fleeing down the sour smelling pipes. Once again, the companions help thwart the schemes of evil.
Moments later, as the party takes stock of the scene, two forms emerge from the sewer. This time, though it is none other than Christoph Engl and the dwarf Grodni Surehammer. They carry a massive device with various positions of moons and a planet. It is Rasknitt’s own Arcane Orry, which he has used with Chaos magic to hold Morrsleib over Ubersreik. The group destroys the foul contraption and immediately notices its effects. Morrsleib, the foul green moon of Chaos returns to orbit and drifts further into the sky.
Grodni then tosses a hideous mask onto the cobbled ground. It is the mask of the Grey Seer with its massive horns protruding from a giant rat skull. The longbeard looks to Tarl and says, “So much for the Great Horned Rat.”
The heroes successfully advanced the cause of the Lord Rikard Aschaffenberg. The City Council agreed 4 to 3 that Achaffenberg shall become the liege lord of Ubersreik. The portly and gregarious Rikard once again declares there will be nights of feasts in honor of the fallen and in honor of the companions. Rikard then offers the hero’s land and titles for proving their bravery, much as he did long ago on the battlefield.
Laurelon, kindly turns down the offer, believing that the lands the Lord offers belongs to everyone. He merely comments that this is not the way of his people or the Asrai, though he believes he understands the gesture. Laurelon can only concern himself with his personal quest, find his kin and Lengosul.
Volkel admits it is only his peers of the College that can grant him a new title. He instead asks for a sizeable donation to the College of the Grey Order, along with a side donation a secret address in Altdorf regarding a special “cloak”.
Tarl declares that he cannot maintain a title and how it would be a waste of good gold. After all, he’ll be dead soon, so what’s the point. He asks only for his weight in beer and some gold.
Drogin, the thief however, decides that it is time to stop living in the shadows. Drogin rides in an Aschaffenberg coach for Grunewald with a few servants in train. Lord Rikard, no longer having much use for a rural decrepit Manor House declares that Drogin Antioc shall serve as his Steward of the Estate which he had received as dowry from the von Brunors. Vern Hendrick helps Drogin rework his lineage, just enough to assert Drogin as the First of his Line, the von Grunewalds. Drogin von Grunewald enters the gates of his new home, but knows there is much work to be done. Outside, among the trees, a mighty Wargor and his herd of beastmen watch this new Lord enter the gates in the heavy, cold rain. They watch and they wait…for now.
The remaining companions make ready for their next destination. They see the Priest of Sigmar they know waiting for them, outside the town of Hugedal. A local farm community is said to be under siege…from Trolls.