Warhammer Fantasy General

At one point the Empire was hit with the not!Black Death, and the skaven attacked in unprecedented force, killing nearly everyone until Mandred Skaven-Slayer got folks' shit together.

Iterestingly, fighting skaven is a lot like fighting rats. Kill kill kill.

I wonder what we can do qith some cheddar and a barrel of cyanide.

Dwarfs perfected techniques against greenskin and rat but bith at once overwhelm them.

You send in a Ranger and a Waystrider with some umgi.

whfb.lexicanum.com/wiki/Timeline

1111 IC to 2304 IC, the Empire basically didn't exist as we know it, politically or otherwise, due to Skaven fuckery. Note that that timeline is massively fucked-up nonsense more or less past that, due to End Times/Age of Sigmar autism.

But basically, Vermintide could've been set in 1111 IC and had it's End Times label removed, and the scenario would've been identical.

Don't you mean, 'send some folk to watch the waywatcher do all the work,' dwarf?

Pretty sure it's actually called the black death or the black plague in warhams fantasy, too.

Isn't there some similar thing, some pox, active in Bretonnia, called the red death or the crimson plague or something?

What is known about Forkhelm Shiverback? He's mentioned once in the Lexicanum article for Thorgrim Grudgebearer, and seem to have some connection to the Chaos Dwarfs, which is why I asked.

Red pox.

It's not THAT easy.
Skaven either appear in the city with very few warrior and attack quietly or they gather in larger numbers but outside the walls the walls.

Take a look at the various fan projects on Strike to Stun for ideas

Tilea Project (my own contribution)
Defenders of the Forest
- Ideally a potted history as canon respecting as possible
- Information on the regions Dwarves live
- 2-3 advanced careers
- Ideas on how to play Dwarf priests
- Dwarf language, how to get in the mindset of a Dwarf
- CHAOS DWARFS
- Plot seeds by the barrel

I would call Nekhara less Rome, and more Persia+Egypt. You could argue they're more Persians with Egyptian trappings, really, since Egypt was traditionally content in isolation, while the ancient Nekharans were world-spanning conqurers, and later were seen as a source of civilization and culture of sorts.

High Elves fit the Roman model more - every other Tilean, Bretonnian, and presumably Estalian city is built around an abanoned Elven ruin, sort of like London or Paris were prominent Roman cities. Even Marienburg has an elven base.

True. I guess it throws me off because the Nehekharans died, they didn't become durkas.

What's the best map of the empire or of the whole world in general? I know Gitzman's exists but I'd like something with political/province borders in the empire if possible.

I usually cross-reference this, the gitzman mega map, and the smaller province maps for the purpose of DMing.

How different would history have been if the elves won the war if the beard?

Not much, they still would've had to cede their colonies when Malekith attacked Ulthuan. If the dwarfs came off worse than they did in real history, it seems likely greenskins would've spilled into the central regions of the Empire in much greater numbers.

How much did the war of the beard affect the world and history? There would probably be more presence of High Elves in the old world, but it wouldn't change much at large.

High elf colonies remaining in the old world would have a huge effect on how the human civilizations at the time started forming. Bretonnia, estalia and tilea all got much of their culture from looking through high elf ruins and building on top of them.

One interesting thing to think about is how different the empire would have been if it was elves sigmar had aided and allied with instead of dwarfs.

Is anyone interested in a Christmas-themed Warhammer Fantasy short story? I've been putting it together for the last week (don't really know why), and I thought I'd at least see if anyone else was interested in reading it.

Before you answer, you should know that it's like ten thousand words long.

I want to play for good warhammer with tabletop simulator, you have some good link for that?

is it skaven-themed?

sadly no. Though funnily enough I actually did do a skaven themed Halloween story once (which I think this one is an improvement on).

This one is Empire vs. beastmen. And, in the tradition of warhammer stealing shameless from popular culture, it has an inspiration that you'll probably recognise (only obviously, with a very warhammer reinterpretation). I won't say its the most lighthearted tale, but I like to think overall it's a heartwarming story of coming together at notChristmastime to beat back the forces of darkness.

How Thanquol Stole Christmas?

his attempts to inexplicably destroy the noncanon holiday in a small town result in accidentally saving the place from a Christmas themed chaos cult, earning the eternal gratitude of the townfolk, to thanquols bitter dismay

Elves and Dwarfs were keeping Chaos at bay.

With the both massively diminished, Chaos and greenskins were able to take over.

Or, skaven break into an Imperial storehouse, believing that they've found a cache of secret weapons. The minions are ordered to carefully secrete these boxes in every human dwelling they can reach, believing they will burst open and spread poison gas or plague, or just explode and burn everything down. They coordinate this fatal blow to happen at the worst possible time for humans: in the middle of winter. This will surely bring down the empire.

Next morning it turns out that they've just delivered wonderful gifts - which would otherwise have been lavished on courtiers and wealthy families over the many imperial balls of the holiday season - to all the families in the Empire

...

I'm honestly not sure what that reaction image is meant to convey.

well, that girl is clearly in the middle of a suntan-lotion fight, so I'd say she's crying with mirth

That's a good question: what's the best race for a Christmas-themed story?

I'm going with orks. I can already see Santa Klawz and his little grotling 'elves', in a sleigh pulled by squigs.

They would likely have annihilated the Dwarfs, given the aggrogance of their King.
Rather than what the Dwarfs did, which was let the Elves fuck back off to their Island in peace.

>aggrogance
I don't know if that's just a typo, or the best portmanteau adjective ever created to describe a dwarf.

You know what, I'll just post the first bit and if anyone's interested I might post more tomorrow and if people aren't interested I'll probably find another thread to put it in, because I'm pathetic like that. The reference should be obvious after the first two lines, but just in case you're not familiar with it: youtube.com/watch?v=SQVUMG6LZGM

- Good Reiksgraf Vaclav looked out, on the Feast of Ulric
- When the snow lay round about, glimm'ring bright as magic

The winter had been harsh this year, and that was saying something for this part of the Empire. Margrave Vaclav von Böhmen stood at the window, high in his castle, and looked out over his lands. They lay in Ostermark, the far north-eastern province of the Empire, in the wild country on the border with Kislev. It was not a large fiefdom, or a wealthy one, but it was his home.

Behind him, Vaclav could hear the sounds of feasting and drinking in his hall. Ulric's Night was when winter was at its deepest, a time for good food, good drink, and good company to keep the darkness and cold at bay. But Vaclav stood alone at his window, goblet hanging unused in his hand, contemplating his domain. Let the others celebrate the Great Wolf - gods knew they needed it. But Vaclav wasn't in the mood for partying. He would rather stare out of the window, at the forests and the mountains that dominated this country, and the little arable land at their edges that now lay buried under the snow. Maybe if he stared long enough he'd see a way out of this winter.

Life at the borders of the Empire was a struggle at the best of times, but things were getting bad this year. Very bad. Vaclav had always tried to be a good lord. He'd always protected his people, as best he could, from the orks, the beastmen, the forces of Chaos that roved and reaved through the wilderness. But there was nothing he could do to protect them from winter itself. First deer, boar and other game froze to death, and then the people started to follow. The old, the young, the sick. Fuel stores began to burn away so the peasants were forced to go into the wild forests to replace them, and many didn't come out again. The heavy snows had all but cut them off from the rest of the Empire, and Vaclav had begun to feel like a prisoner in his own keep. And this night only marked the half-way point of winter.

The fresh fall of snow looked so beautiful, so pure, in that clear, starry night. It looked almost unearthly, ice crystals in the snow forming their own shimmering constellations. Vaclav could almost forget that it was another deathly sign of winter's touch, lain like a pale shroud over his lands. Almost. But still, it was beautiful.

In a moment he would have to go back to his feast, play the good host, pretend that all his cares lay lightly on his shoulders. But it would take a little while before he could summon the energy, and in the meantime he would stand here and watch the silent, still night. But then movement down below, on the crisp, deep snow, caught Vaclav's eye.

- Brightly shone the moons that night, tho' the frost bit sorest,
- When a poor man came in sight, stagg'ring from the forest.

'M'Lord?' said a small voice behind him. He jerked round in surprise and saw a boy - his pageboy, Rolf.

'What?' he snapped, in his surprise more sharply that he'd intended to.

'M'Lord... um... the guests. They're asking for you.'

Ah yes, the guests. Well, he was the host after all, he was bound to be missed sooner or later. Poor Rolf, chucked out of the feast to go find his absent master. The hall was packed with knights and local worthies, Vaclav's vassals. Which, his estates being what they were, only amounted to barely three dozen men. They were good men, loyal men - always firm in battle, always firm in friendship. Just not men he wanted to talk to right now. But still, duty was duty.

Then he remembered what he'd been doing before the boy interrupted his train of thought. He drained what remained in his goblet and tossed it aside with a clatter.

'Come, with me.' Vaclav said softly to Rolf. He stalked out of the chamber, the boy trailing behind him. Quickly, down the spiral staircase, past the hall, out into the courtyard. The shock of the freezing air took Vaclav's breath away for a moment, but he didn't slow. Rolf followed silently behind him. In the sheds around the courtyard Vaclav could hear the lowing of the livestock, stashed snugly away for the winter. And towards the gate he could hear the muffled sounds of more festivities - his armsmen, stashed snugly away in the gatehouse for the night. His boots clicked sharply upon the stones of the courtyard as he marched towards the gate.

I'll leave it there for now. If anyone cares and the thread is still around when I wake up, I might post the rest.

this one's quite good. is pretty cool, but I don't think there's much point in a map that doesn't show the major cities and landmarks.

keep it up

yeah, but most maps are way too low-detail or don't have good political demarcations, hence why I cross-reference. It's a bitch.

At least in the Empire, major rivers like the Aver usually form natural borders.

I'm gathering the materials to try and make some terrain for my local Mordheim community. Given that most of the game I've played in so far have had very haphazard terrain, and extremely little of it has been "city" type terrain, with ruined buildings and so forth.

I also want to attract more of my friends to playing Mordheim, and having the actual terrain will probably convince them to make the small investment to acquire the small number of models needed for a Warband.

Does anyone with some experience have any general advice?
Mostly going to be following some stock-standard online tutorials using mostly Foamcore, Balsa Wood, and Plywood.

I hate how it refers to Westerland and Marienburg as Republic of The Wasteland. I realize that the Empire refers to Westerland as The Wasteland, but there is nothing suggesting that it's a wasteland of any kind. I refuse to bellieve that they refer to themselves as such.

It's as if thee map would refer to Tilea as the Unified Faggotdom.

You might check out train diorama forums, those guys take terrain really fucking seriously.

Actually, if you read the WFRP 1e book for Marienburg, there's a good reason westerland is called the 'wasteland,' most of it is swampy, soggy, shitty salt marshes.

I don't think they call themselves the Wasteland, though.

Finally a rationale. I wonder why no other source seems to mention this. The wikis are silent and Westerland isn't even covered in any of the Empire books, despite being imperial for longer than it hasn't.

It also helps explain Marienburg's wealth. Salt is fucking cash. Makes me wonder why the Empire hasn't tried to retake Marienburg more.

If I remember right, Marienburg tends to play the Empire and Bretonnia off against each other - for all their backwardness Bretonnia would be eager to get a hold of the Wasteland as well. One makes a move, the other is quietly encouraged to stop them.

There is a whole RPG book dedicated to Marienburg.
You might wanna check this out.

They have tried several times, but Bretonnia and Ulthuan interfere, and vice-versa when the cheese-eaters go for it.

Crossing the Wasteland is also a fucking trying task, and an army that reaches Marienburg often does so exhausted.

>implying KF wouldn't take it if he wanted to and some pointed ear pansies could stop him.

Assuming the Storm of Chaos ends in Archaon's death and an Imperial victory?

Possible, but unlikely. Malekith's latest attack prolly takes Ulthuan out of it, but you have to remember Mannfred is still being a manlet. It would take extraordinary circumstances for KF to risk it.

>assuming
Well it did, didn't it?

However, after the Storm of Chaos, the Empire faces a really harsh fucking winter. The north/north-east is devastated, and the south is probably plundered for supplies and manfolk, to feed and man the imperial armies.

There is no way KF would go straight to Marienburg. In two years time, maybe, but then everything will look differently, and Archaon is still on the loose, with no guarantee of capture.orests

The forces of chaos, many probably holed up in the northern forests, could run guerilla war for upwards a decade.

>Well it did, didn't it?
No?
Chaos lost but Archaon was still alive.

Yeah, sorry, read that a bit sloppily.

The thing is a siege would knock it out if commission for a year, two years then another 6 months to a year while it was rebuilt.

That's three years of the Empires economy going down the toilet

Almost every major empire city has been practically razed to the ground and rebuild at least once, in some way or another.

But taking marienburg is hard, since they have all sorts of deals with other factions, particularly bretonnia. Hey like to play the empire and bretonnia against each other, since both of them want marienburg, but they couldn't stand to see the other claim it

There should have been two guards on duty; however, the gate lay barred but unguarded. Vaclav wasn't surprised. He kept his armsmen well disciplined, but they knew he wasn't the sort to bring a man to task for not wanting to spend Ulric's feast freezing his nethers off on gate duty, on a night when no one would be out there anyway. Maybe Vaclav was too kind for his own good sometimes, but when the time came to ride out in defence his lands they knew not to fail him - and they didn't. He had their respect, and they never shirked their duty in combat.

Not wanting to waste time, Vaclav headed straight for the small door inset in the main gate and threw back the heavy bolts. As he stepped through, out of the shadow of the walls, he was struck by how bright the silver moonlight was, reflected off the snow. Then he saw the man - an old man, with straggly grey hair, bushy beard and a lined face. He was within a hundred yards of the gate, but he had fallen again, and was struggling weakly to carry on. Vaclav heard Rolf gasp behind him, and exclaim softly:

'Old Johann!'

- Hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling,
- Stricken peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?

'Get over here boy.' said Vaclav urgently. 'You know this man?' Rolf nodded. 'Who is he? Where does he live?' Without waiting for an answer he hurried on towards the struggling man, stomping through the snow, and Rolf ran to catch up.

- Lord, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;
- Right against the forest fence, by Saint Helga's fountain.

'His name's Johann, m'lord. He lives with his son's family, over towards the mountains in a cottage by Saint Helga's spring. I used to play with his grandson, before... before I entered your service m'lord.' Rolf barely kept his voice from wavering there, but Vaclav couldn't be gentle with him now.

'How far away is it?'

'It's a league away as the crow flies, sir, but it lies right up against the trees, so it's double the distance unless you want to cut through the forest.'

No sane man would want to cut through the forest by himself, even on a light summer's day, let alone on a night in the dead of winter. But it looked like Old Johann had done so anyway. As Vaclav came to kneel by the fallen man, he saw the cuts and scrapes made by running through branches and bushes in the dark. He hauled the old man to his feet, but he was practically dead weight, and scarcely conscious. He was mumbling something, but Vaclav couldn't make out what. Throwing the old man's arm over his shoulder, Vaclav started dragging him back towards the gate. Rolf, to his credit, took the other arm, though he was too short to make much of a difference.

They got Old Johann back through the gate, and Vaclav bolted the door securely once again. Then he went over to the gatehouse and hammered on the door.

'OPEN UP!' he hollered, hoping to make himself heard over the sounds of revelry coming from within. 'Open up, damn you! Am I the lord of this castle or just the gatekeeper?' He hammered again with his fist. The door opened a crack and a flushed face peered blearily out. The guard's eyes widened almost comically as he saw who was pounding on the door.

'Lord von Böhmen!' he squeaked. And then added more loudly, 'An honour to see you this night, /my lord/.' emphasising the last bit for the benefit of the assembled company behind him. Vaclav rolled his eyes and snapped,

'Oh get out of the way, man.' He shoved the door open so hard that it hit the wall, and stepped inside. Around the room men were frozen as if standing for a painting, beer dripping from mugs raised mid-quaff. Grizzled veterans all, they looked like boys caught stealing from the pantry, and for a moment Vaclav had the manic urge to burst into laughter. Instead he said sternly, 'There's a man out here half-dead from cold. Get out here and help me carry him inside.'

His armsmen stumbled to obey, tripping over stools and elbowing past each other to get out of the gatehouse. They were brought up short when they saw the old man lying against the wall, Rolf kneeling by his side.

'Don't just stand there, help him.' said Vaclav sharply, going to Old Johann's side and taking his arm again. The rapidly sobering guards followed his example, and with several men helping calmly and efficiently it was only a moment before the old man was seated by the fireplace in the guardhouse with a blanket over him. 'Quickly, get me brandy.' Vaclav ordered, and no sooner had he said it than a flask appeared in his hand. He held it to the old man's lips. 'Drink, drink.' he whispered soothingly, and although much of it went down his chin Old Johann managed to swallow some of it. Vaclav gripped the exhausted man by the shoulder, and said steadily: 'Tell me what you've seen this night, grandfather. Tell me what drove you out into the snows.'

For a moment only inaudible whispers passed the old man's lips, and his half-closed eyes fluttered. Then he found the strength for force out a single word:

'Beastmen.' There was an audible intake of breath from the room.

'They came to your homestead?'

'The cottage... on fire...'

'How many - how many of them were there?' Vaclav insisted, but the old man was slipping, falling back into half coherent mumbling. 'Vodka.' Vaclav ordered the men behind him. 'Bring me some vodka.' A half empty bottle was pressed into his hand, and he held it up for the old man to drink. Again, as much of it ended up in his beard as went down his throat. The old man seemed to calm, and for a moment there was silence.

Then Johann's eyes flew open, he sat bolt upright, and grabbed Vaclav by the collar and looked him dead on in the eyes.

'They ATE the children!' he roared hoarsely. 'While they were still alive!' White knuckled, he clutched at Vaclav's embroidered dress-coat. Then he subsided, tears running down his cheeks.

'Hush.' said Vaclav softly, gently prising the old man's hand's off him. 'Hush now.' He searched his mind for words of comfort, but none were forthcoming.

'I watched, I watched.' the old man blubbered. 'I just stood there and watched. There were so many, I couldn't... ' he trailed off. 'The screaming... the screaming...' For a moment he lay still, and Vaclav thought he had slipped into unconsciousness. Then Johann muttered, so quietly that only Vaclav could hear: 'I have to warn the castle... I have to warn them.' Vaclav leaned closer and just caught the next words, 'I can't go on - you have to tell his lordship... promise me you'll tell him. Promise me...'

'Don't worry.' whispered Vaclav. 'I'll tell him. Your family will be avenged, I promise you.'

Old Johann at last slipped into sleep. It was a miracle that a man his age had made it through the winter-smothered woods, and it had clearly taken Old Johann all his strength to run the distance to the castle. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat feeble - but the men of these lands were hardy. Seated here by the fire, he might even see the morning.

I'll be back later to do some more

Papa Nurgle comes to town.

Not that guy but do you have a pdf? The resources up top don't seem to have it.

I understand why Bretonnia wouldn't let the Empire have Marienburg, but why would the Elves care? I get that it's useful for the trading city to exist but surely they could easily use it under the Empire as well?

If you know a site where I can upload it without creating an account first, yes.

if you're looking for urban terrain, you might want to keep an eye out for house-shaped candle holders. They're often about the right size and they're designed so you can put tea-lights in them (which are about the same size as a typical model base). It'd probably be a bit expensive to make a whole city out of them, but you might find some that are on sale. It's just an easy way to get good looking terrain, especially if you're not that good with the whole arts and crafts thing.

anyone give a shit about reading more of this?

ye

No one really knows, because the elves aren't saying. They did negotiate very favorable terms to have their expats live and own land in Marienburg, however.

mhm

Other men wouldn't: Vaclav knew what he had to do now, though he didn't relish the prospect. It was as he'd feared: a warparty of beastmen - twisted mutants tainted by Chaos, that had the shapes of animals but walked on two legs like men - were in the area. Normally they wouldn't come within a day's ride of the castle, fearful of the lances of the Margrave and his knights. But winter was pushing everyone hard - there had to be very little game now left in the deep forests. Vaclav's father had warned him about this, long ago; he'd told Vaclav as a boy that in the cruellest winters, the ones that came only once every few decades, all manner of foul things were forced out of the forests in search of food. And when the warpspawn came, there was only one thing to do: hunt them down and kill them quickly. Before they got a taste for man-flesh.

Though his duty lay heavy on his shoulders, he rose, and turned to his soldiers.

'You all heard that.' he said grimly. Every eye in the room was fixed on him. 'The beastmen are here, come to despoil our lands and butcher children in their sleep - SO WHAT ARE YOU STILL STANDING THERE FOR? TO ARMS!' He'd scarcely finished his sentence before the men, broken from their morbid trance, exploded into activity, shoving aside tables, breaking open weapon lockers, grabbing helmets and breastplates discarded during the feast. At first it looked like an ill-disciplined scramble, but soon it took on a methodical rhythm as they settled into a routine all too familiar to them - preparation for battle.

Vaclav beckoned to Rolf, who was still standing there staring at Old Johann. The boy blinked away tears and went to his master's side.

'You know the cottage? How many lived there?' Vaclav asked gently.

'Umm... there's Old Johann, his son Otto, and Otto's wife Ludmilla.' Rolf recounted calmly. He kept his voice from wavering, but his face was pale as ice. 'And five children - Hans, who's my age, his little sisters Lisbet, Mathilda and Olga, and little baby Dieter. But on Ulric's Night Otto's brothers would have been there, Gottfried and Hermann. They're in the militia over in Bernsdorf, but they come to see their father on feast days.'

'And the cottage had strong walls?'

'Yes sir, of stone. And a door with iron bars.' Rolf said. Vaclav hadn't expected anything less - no one would build their home so close to the forest without making it proof against the common dangers that might slink their way out from between the trees one night. Three strong men, in a place they could easily defend, and they would have been well armed with weapons they knew how to use as every man in these lands was. Yet from the sound of it they had been slaughtered with ease. It was not a scavenging, half starved pack of Brays that did this. He should have asked the old man how he'd escaped - maybe he'd been out gathering firewood, and come back to find his home ablaze.

'You're a good lad, Rolf. I'm sorry for your friends. Now, run and fetch my wargear. I may not be able to help those poor souls now, but gods willing they'll be the last to fall to the chaos-bred filth.' Rolf nodded, and hurried out of the guardroom, dodging between the clanking, cursing soldiers trying to pull their armour on.

Vaclav paused for a moment, then he too went to the door. He needed to clear his head. The air in the courtyard was so cold his breath billowed out in nebulous silver clouds. Then a booming voice echoed across the courtyard.

'Vaclav! There you are.'

His guests. He'd completely forgotten about them. Out of the keep came Sir Boris von Bauerhof, bottle of wine in his hand, stomping down the icy steps and barely keeping his balance. His bear-like mass and ruddy, round face would have seen him pass for a Kislevite Boyar in most of the Empire, yet instead of the drooping moustache of the steppes, he kept his trimmed into the bushy bars one found in Middenland or Talabecland. Like Vaclav's realm - and Vaclav himself - a strong dose of Kislevite in him, but Imperial where it counted. Old Boris was of an age to have ridden alongside Vaclav's father, but he was hadn't let the passing years slow him down, or keep him from riding out with the present Margrave to defend his lands. He'd earned the right to dispense with titles long ago.

'Come on, Vaclav, it's colder than Morr's cock out here.' Behind Boris, a few others a little less able to hold their drink were shuffling carefully through the keep's door. 'We were about to watch Ludwig sing the Reiklandlied while balancing a full stein of beer on his head. Come on back inside where there's a fire and a feast, like a good Margrave.'

Just then one of Vaclav's armsmen - the sergeant-at-arms, Pavel Ivanovitch - came out of the gatehouse. He stopped short when he saw the rapidly growing congregation of nobles. He reacted by saluting, on the grounds that it was rarely out of place, then said to Vaclav. 'We'll be ready in a moment m'lord.'

'Oh, I see - found a better party, have you?' Boris chortled. 'Gods know, I'd be the first to admit that the footsoldiers generally know how to have a good time better than their leaders. And here was I thinking /we/ were leaving /you/ out of all the fun.' He downed another mouthful from his wine bottle.

Vaclav shook his head sadly.

'I wish that were true, I really do.' he said, almost to himself, although Boris was close enough to hear; his eyes focused, quickly attentive despite the wine. Then Vaclav raised his voice so that the whole courtyard could hear. 'My lords, honoured guests, I apologise for not being a very good host this evening, but grave news has come to my gates. There are beastmen on our lands. They have already attacked a homestead not a league from here, and slaughtered an entire family.'

From the assembled crowd of revellers, who were barely starting to sober up to what was going on, Sir Manfred-Karl von Schwarzfeld hurried forwards, quickly appearing at Vaclav's side. He was a man in the prime of life, just over thirty years of age, with a square jaw covered by a close-cut blond beard, and severe, cold grey eyes. Sensible and level headed, and unmatched on horseback, he had emerged as more or less the first among equals in Vaclav's small collection of knights, and had been responsible for leading many of the expeditions against the greenskin raiders that had troubled the land the previous year. He whispered urgently now to Vaclav;

'I know that tone of voice. Tell me you're not planning to go out after them, my lord - not tonight'

'Are you saying that I should just leave those twisted creatures free to slaughter the people I'm supposed to protect?'

'It's dark, the ground is thick with snow, and you have only a handful of men.' said von Schwarzfeld reasonably. 'And what men you do have are hardly sober enough to stand upright.'

'You forgot to mention that we'd have to go through the forest if we wanted to stand a chance of catching up to them.' said Vaclav.

'At least wait for daylight, or reinforcements.' he said exasperatedly; he knew this was an argument he'd lost even before it started, but his dedicated professionalism made him say it anyway. 'You could have another fifty men here by the morning.' Vaclav usually kept almost a hundred armsmen garrisoned in the castle. A large force to keep permanently mobilised for a fief this size, but unlike lords in the Empire's safer interior provinces, who could afford to spend their money on fancy manor houses and Tilean luxuries, he needed every man he could get. However, as always some were out on patrol, and the rest he had allowed to go home to their families in the surrounding villages for Ulric's feast. There were less than twenty men in the castle itself at the moment, not including the guests.

'It would take too long. You know as well as I do that if we wait for morning the beastmen will be long gone.' Vaclav pointed out. At that moment Boris joined the conversation.

'Let me guess: he's telling you it'd be suicide to go out chasing beastmen on a night like this.' he said, looking at the stone-faced von Schwarzfeld. Manfred was about to reply, when Boris added, somewhat gruffly as if he didn't like to admit it, 'He probably has a point.' His fellow knight looked surprised - the two of them rarely saw eye to eye on tactical matters. But Boris, though often impetuous, was no fool, Vaclav knew. He could see as well as anyone the folly of fighting beastmen without the advantages of daylight, numbers, and most importantly open ground. The best way to kill a beastman was at the end of a very long lance driven home by the full weight of a charging horse - but there was no way they would get their horses through the snow, not that they could use them in amongst the trees anyway.

'I'm not saying he doesn't.' Vaclav admitted, 'But if we let them go now they'll disappear back into the trees. That'll leave us two choices: go into the deep forests after them, which is just as dangerous if not moreso. Or wait, and hope that when they come back to butcher the next family they pick a more convenient time. Which is no choice at all.'

Boris grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder.

'When you're right you're right. Let it never be said that a von Bauerhof wouldn't ride out against the enemies of the Empire just because of the prospect of certain death.'

'Nor a von Schwarzfeld.' Manfred sighed, resigned. Yet all the same there was a glint of steel in his eye, an eagerness; the man was a born fighter, too much so to regret the chance for battle even if he thought it a bad idea.

'While I appreciate your commitment, we're not dead yet.' said Vaclav grimly. 'We have some of the best warriors in the empire here tonight' - and that wasn't an exaggeration, for out here a soldier could pick up more combat experience in a year than he'd see in an entire career in more peaceful parts of the Empire - 'and the beastmen don't know we're coming. I don't intend to just throw our lives away.' Always project confidence if you want to lead well, Vaclav's father had told him. Which was why he didn't say out loud the thing that immediately crossed his mind: when the evening started, I didn't intend to go out hunting beastmen.

At that moment one of the guests, who'd evidently been more concerned about the feast than the absent host, half-fell out of the door of the keep. He picked himself up and sidled over to the back of the murmuring crowd as inconspicuously as he could.

'What's going on? What have I missed.' Another of the guests began to fill him in. 'What - beastmen? What you mean?'

Boris chuckled, and shouted over his shoulder: 'He means the party's over, Ludwig.'

I'll be back for more later

Whoever asked a ways back for broofs that vampires and Chaos innately hate each other, you need page 13 of Night's Dark Masters.

Remember norscan dwarfs. Norther Dwarfs ahould be distinct from Mountain Dwarfs, Expaf Dwarfs, and Chaos Dwarfs, but there's next to no information on them at all, how they relate to other norscans, or how they relate to their Mountain and Chaos cousins.

What system does /wfg/ recommend for a tabletop RPG using the fantasy setting? I have the FFG book but the rules feel do damn awkward, which is strange because I loved their Star Wars series.

Are you expecting any other answer than WFRP 1st or 2nd Edition?

High Elves, they have an actual flying chariot.

Is it so wrong to hope I might have?

There's Zweihander, but that's still in development.

New question, guys. If you don't like the 'canon' truth behind the Grail cult and the Lady of the Lake, what truth do you substitute in your own personal head canon?

I'm fine with it personally. I never played Bretts but I don't see how the canon version is so bad. Yeah you could say they were being manipulated to protect the wood elves but it's not like they were getting nothing out of it.

>New question, guys. If you don't like the 'canon' truth behind the Grail cult and the Lady of the Lake, what truth do you substitute in your own personal head canon?
The Lady of the Lake is actually Slaanesh

That makes no sense to me personally, but you do you.

I do what?

I just go with one of the pre ET rumors that the Lady was Isha, or perhaps a mishmash of traits from Myrmidia and Shallya that became its own diety. I'd even accept just a vague nature spirit, or the unfounded Lovecraft rumors, over the current lore.

Fine with the current version. Also, the "brets are just there to protect the wood elves" meme needs to die, that's not what they were being manipulated by lileath for.

WFRP2. I like Star Wars too, but it's about high adventure in the Star Wars setting, and WFRP3 was the precursor to the system.

It's two completwly different things. Not only is WFRP3 shit to play because it's basically a beta, but it's got a completely alien tone to what Warhammer Fantasy is at it's most basic level. This translates badly across systems, as evidenced by the increasingly fantastical tone of the WH40kRP games, that kept the basic WFRP system (a legacy of Dark Heresy, originally conceptualized by Black Industries, the makers of WFRP2).

WFRP2. Stick to it. It's amazing and not half as dated as I thought it would be, and the career system is amazing. I love it more for every day, but it confused the hell out of me before I started playing.

I don't mind the truth of it, I judt hate that they blurted it out and confirmed it. It's just awful and ridiculous, shitty exposition.

I thin Zweihänder looks interesting, but divorcing fluff from mechanics is a bad idea, especially for anything Warhammer. So I'll probably never play it.

Isha, Shallya and Valaya are pretty much the same anyway. The second they conceived of The Lady, she started constituting her own growing deity, anyway, so on a metaphysical level, the distinction is pretty much moot; it's a manifestation of pretty much the same influences within the warp.

But yeah, if it wasn't there to begin with, there's definitely some Myrmidia there now.

>that's not what they were being manipulated by lileath for

Elaborate

What is known of norscan/northern dwarfs?