Following the capture of Niederdam, and the exclusion of the Dwarves from aiding the Imperial war effort, the Drazkharovs sensed the waning of the Alptraum’s hold over the Empire. Count Viktor moved his armies west along the Easting Road into Schinderland. The Imperial court dispatched Prince Karl to intercept him, the hopes of the Alptraum dynasty resting on his success.
The two armies met across the Neuland Plain, overshadowed by what would later be remembered as the Great Storm of Schinderland. Torrential rain and howling gales battered the low lying hills, the exposed landscape whipped by a maelstrom of unnatural ferocity. Through the tempest the Imperial armies marched with grim resolve.
The imperial artillery trains foundered in the mud as the downpour continued, whinnying horses sinking into the quagmire as they strained against the stranded limbers. Viktor’s winged fiends descended out of the thunder-wracked skies, untouched and unhindered by the supernatural storm, sweeping shadows backlit in some nightmarish vision against the crackling lightning overhead.
Fear seized the Imperial army as the monsters began to harry Prince Karl’s lines. Out of the tempest the dreaded Black Knights of The Grimholt were seen to glide effortlessly over the cloying mud-churned fields, borne above the ground upon eerily graceful phantom steeds.
The artillery was unable to act. The Household Cavalry were becoming ever-more swamped in the mud with each step, even as the undead riders were bearing down on them. Panicking, the Imperial troops scattered in the face of the gnashing horrors that emerged through the miasma of the pouring rain. Karl bellowed orders for his men to hold fast, but his voice was a single quiet note drowned amid the thundering overture of the storm raging across all of Schinderland. The Household cavalry, seeing the army’s discipline disintegrating around them, turned and fled, carrying a furious Prince Karl from the field.
The road to Sigmarheim lay open. Viktor had the capital in his sights. The soldiers of the Imperial army would no longer be fighting simply for the Imperial cause or for oaths of fealty – if the Drazkharovs could not be stopped then the homes and families of every loyal man would be easy prey for the rebel armies.
Thursday, 22 November 2012
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
The Siege of Niederdam
Count Viktor had successfully suppressed all military opposition to Drazkharov movements in the north. Pellenar remained a thorn in the side of Drazkharov ambitions and the Lord Titus Aureus was still at large. However, most of Pellenar’s contributions to the war effort were now reduced to low level guerrilla fighting that proved more an irritation to the rebels than a hindrance.
Seeing the power of House Drazkharov focused on the battles in the northern provinces House Larkin had joined the war in the fight against Rhan’k’adanra in the west. This was a bold move as it left little to military presence to defend Niederdam other than the standing militia. The imperial strategists had deemed the rebel armies too far away to pose an immediate threat to the city.
The Colleges of Magic were a prime target for the Drazkharovs, a seat of power and influence nestled behind the mighty walls of Niederdam. If they could seize control of the colleges, the Drazkharovs knew that they would effectively rob the Imperialist forces of any further support from the magi and wizards of the colleges. Instead they would bend that vast wealth of ancient lore and sorcerous knowledge to their own ends.
Upon learning that Niederdam was left all but lightly defended Viktor pounced. With alarming swiftness that astonished the imperial generals Viktor descended upon Niederdam and put the city under siege. The rebel armies seemed to materialize overnight, for neither the Imperial war council nor the City Watch realized the danger until it was too late. Niederdam found itself caught in the monster’s jaws as all supply routes were cut and all means of escape blocked. The City Watch barred the gates and prayed for deliverance.
Yet the city was far from lost. The outer wall was a towering redoubt that could withstand the most ferocious siege engine, the stones and mortar woven with centuries-old warding enchantments placed at the founding of the Colleges of Magic. Within, the wizards of the colleges were united in their determination to defend the city against the undead hordes waiting outside the gates. None relished the prospect in living in the thrall of the vampire counts.
As Viktor’s army battered the gates with monstrous siege rams, the City Watch mounted a stern resistance with shot and shell that hammered the rebel armies below the walls. The wizards gathered in the highest spires to hurl crackling storms and coruscating bolts into the midst of the flying undead terrors that spiraled over the city’s great towers, setting the twilight skies ablaze with incandescent magicks.
After weeks of isolation it seemed that Niederdam’s salvation was close at hand when the Watch espied the banners of House Larkin flying at the head an army marching with all haste down the Easting Road. But even as Larkin’s army closed the leagues to the rebel encampment to break the siege Viktor’s rams finally brought down the great Celestial Gates. As the breaking of a dam, the splintering gates let through the flood of undead that spilled through the breach.
As Lord Larkin’s vanguard clashed with the rebel army at the Battle of the Celestial Gates, Viktor’s monster prowled the alleys and parapets, making short work of the City Watch and the wizard council. Larkin’s relief force cut down swathes of zombies and ghouls, but the mass of twitching corpses (dead and undead alike) eventually slowed the advance. The Celestial Gate became choked with the mounting piles of the bodies until in place of the once mighty doors instead a mountain of rancid flesh now closed the way.
Lord Larkin was unable to press home the attack as Viktor’s troops manned the walls to secure the city. The bodies of the slain City Watchmen were seen rising up from the places where they had been struck down moments before, joining the ranks of Viktor's army and returning to their posts to keep a now eternal vigil over the ramparts for their new master. Niederdam had fallen to the rebels, the blood red standard of House Drazkharov now flying above the walls. The Colleges of Magic and all the arcane lore they contained would be turned to aid the Drazkharov cause.
Seeing the power of House Drazkharov focused on the battles in the northern provinces House Larkin had joined the war in the fight against Rhan’k’adanra in the west. This was a bold move as it left little to military presence to defend Niederdam other than the standing militia. The imperial strategists had deemed the rebel armies too far away to pose an immediate threat to the city.
The Colleges of Magic were a prime target for the Drazkharovs, a seat of power and influence nestled behind the mighty walls of Niederdam. If they could seize control of the colleges, the Drazkharovs knew that they would effectively rob the Imperialist forces of any further support from the magi and wizards of the colleges. Instead they would bend that vast wealth of ancient lore and sorcerous knowledge to their own ends.
Upon learning that Niederdam was left all but lightly defended Viktor pounced. With alarming swiftness that astonished the imperial generals Viktor descended upon Niederdam and put the city under siege. The rebel armies seemed to materialize overnight, for neither the Imperial war council nor the City Watch realized the danger until it was too late. Niederdam found itself caught in the monster’s jaws as all supply routes were cut and all means of escape blocked. The City Watch barred the gates and prayed for deliverance.
Yet the city was far from lost. The outer wall was a towering redoubt that could withstand the most ferocious siege engine, the stones and mortar woven with centuries-old warding enchantments placed at the founding of the Colleges of Magic. Within, the wizards of the colleges were united in their determination to defend the city against the undead hordes waiting outside the gates. None relished the prospect in living in the thrall of the vampire counts.
As Viktor’s army battered the gates with monstrous siege rams, the City Watch mounted a stern resistance with shot and shell that hammered the rebel armies below the walls. The wizards gathered in the highest spires to hurl crackling storms and coruscating bolts into the midst of the flying undead terrors that spiraled over the city’s great towers, setting the twilight skies ablaze with incandescent magicks.
After weeks of isolation it seemed that Niederdam’s salvation was close at hand when the Watch espied the banners of House Larkin flying at the head an army marching with all haste down the Easting Road. But even as Larkin’s army closed the leagues to the rebel encampment to break the siege Viktor’s rams finally brought down the great Celestial Gates. As the breaking of a dam, the splintering gates let through the flood of undead that spilled through the breach.
As Lord Larkin’s vanguard clashed with the rebel army at the Battle of the Celestial Gates, Viktor’s monster prowled the alleys and parapets, making short work of the City Watch and the wizard council. Larkin’s relief force cut down swathes of zombies and ghouls, but the mass of twitching corpses (dead and undead alike) eventually slowed the advance. The Celestial Gate became choked with the mounting piles of the bodies until in place of the once mighty doors instead a mountain of rancid flesh now closed the way.
Lord Larkin was unable to press home the attack as Viktor’s troops manned the walls to secure the city. The bodies of the slain City Watchmen were seen rising up from the places where they had been struck down moments before, joining the ranks of Viktor's army and returning to their posts to keep a now eternal vigil over the ramparts for their new master. Niederdam had fallen to the rebels, the blood red standard of House Drazkharov now flying above the walls. The Colleges of Magic and all the arcane lore they contained would be turned to aid the Drazkharov cause.
Thursday, 15 November 2012
The Battle of Eynsford Hill
The Drazkharov Rebellion that wracked the Holy Sigmarite Empire had caused numerous other races and nations to become embroiled in the conflict. Some malign powers had seized the opportunity to reap whatever gain they could from the misery and chaos of a mighty Empire laid low by civil strife. However others had sympathized with the plight of the people of the Empire and leant their support.
The Dwarves of Karak Haraz had remained strangely neutral for the first three years of the war. In spite of numerous petitions from the Imperial Court of Sigmarheim, citing ancient oaths of alliance sworn between the great nations, the Dwarves did not act. Perhaps the Dawi were distracted by conflict in their own lands? Was the grim spectre of the Ghoul Wars of old a memory that few of that race wished to relive?
Whatever the delay had been, the enigmatic Dwarves eventually answered the call to war. King Morgrim dispatched a mighty throng of warriors from Karak Haraz, well supported by formidable Dawi artillery. They made the long descent through the winding pass that connected the Dwarf holds of the Durom Range to the Easting Road. But the journey was slow and Holwingen was not idle in keeping a close watch on its borders. Count Ivan, The Beast himself, had called the army of the Krähefort beneath the Drazkharov banners and marched into the Durom foothills to lie in wait for the Dwarf host.
The ambush that Ivan launched upon Morgrim’s force at the Battle of Eynsford Hill was a brief yet savage attack. Terrible spectral hunters bore down upon the Dwarf artillery before they could set to the task of pummeling the undead army. Without the Dwarf guns to hamper his advance, Ivan himself was able to lead the devastating charge on the Dwarves in the bottleneck of the pass. With little room to manoeuver the Dwarves could only stand firm in the face of the onslaught.
Seeing the battle lost as their comrades fell to fang and claw of the hated enemy, the Dwarf rearguard reluctantly withdrew back into the mountains. Those warriors who returned to Karak Haraz told wild tales of a terrible fiend who ripped his way through the battle lines, his deranged laughter echoing across the hills above the din of battle as he flung aside proud Dawi warriors with predatory abandon.
Karak Haraz now finds itself cut off from the outside world, Ivan’s armies choking the mountain passes with heaving undead hordes. It seemed that the Holy Sigmarite Empire would not be able to count upon the support of the Dwarves after all.
The Dwarves of Karak Haraz had remained strangely neutral for the first three years of the war. In spite of numerous petitions from the Imperial Court of Sigmarheim, citing ancient oaths of alliance sworn between the great nations, the Dwarves did not act. Perhaps the Dawi were distracted by conflict in their own lands? Was the grim spectre of the Ghoul Wars of old a memory that few of that race wished to relive?
Whatever the delay had been, the enigmatic Dwarves eventually answered the call to war. King Morgrim dispatched a mighty throng of warriors from Karak Haraz, well supported by formidable Dawi artillery. They made the long descent through the winding pass that connected the Dwarf holds of the Durom Range to the Easting Road. But the journey was slow and Holwingen was not idle in keeping a close watch on its borders. Count Ivan, The Beast himself, had called the army of the Krähefort beneath the Drazkharov banners and marched into the Durom foothills to lie in wait for the Dwarf host.
The ambush that Ivan launched upon Morgrim’s force at the Battle of Eynsford Hill was a brief yet savage attack. Terrible spectral hunters bore down upon the Dwarf artillery before they could set to the task of pummeling the undead army. Without the Dwarf guns to hamper his advance, Ivan himself was able to lead the devastating charge on the Dwarves in the bottleneck of the pass. With little room to manoeuver the Dwarves could only stand firm in the face of the onslaught.
Seeing the battle lost as their comrades fell to fang and claw of the hated enemy, the Dwarf rearguard reluctantly withdrew back into the mountains. Those warriors who returned to Karak Haraz told wild tales of a terrible fiend who ripped his way through the battle lines, his deranged laughter echoing across the hills above the din of battle as he flung aside proud Dawi warriors with predatory abandon.
Karak Haraz now finds itself cut off from the outside world, Ivan’s armies choking the mountain passes with heaving undead hordes. It seemed that the Holy Sigmarite Empire would not be able to count upon the support of the Dwarves after all.
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
House Larkin calls the banners
The noble house of Larkin is a prodigious family of wealthy merchant noblemen whose forebears made the family’s fortune in the early days of Imperial colonial expansion into Adler an Zee. Since then they have been an influential mercantile power in the Holy Sigmarite Empire, with vested interests in Galamory and the city of Niederdam, both vital trading hubs to the Empire and the world beyond.
With the outbreak of war Lord Larkin was cautious, keen to protect his financial interests. Though declaring his family's support for the Alptraum dynasty he was reticent to send troops to fight in the war. Loyalty to the throne was one thing, but jeopardizing lives (particularly one's own) for little material gain would be quite another.
As such, Lord Larkin had thus far only mustered troops to defend his own borders in the south. Yet the increasing turmoil that has engulfed the Empire finally forced his hand, especially in light of Rhan’k’adanra making further inroads into the southern marches. So it was in the year 669PC Lord Larkin called the banners and marched west to the aid of neighboring Sudhafen.
At the head of the army were the glorious Galamory Silverspurs, a resplendent brigade of demigryph knights, the majority of whom are self-financed yet ambitious noble sons who won their laurels (and their exotic mounts) on foreign campaigns in their quest for glory, fame and riches.
Yet their finery and reputation stood for little against the hordes unleashed by Rhan’k’adanra. The daemonic legions were gathered in full strength, no longer making raiding forays but instead intent on full militarized invasion. In the Nimarn Valley, Lord Larkin’s host was soundly rebuffed by the multitude of mystifying Rhan’k’adanran daemons, his Galamory Silverspurs overwhelmed by ferocious attacks and bewildering magicks.
The daemonic host advanced further still into the Empire, until it was eventually (though just barely) held in check by the Steel Count von Schaffernacke’s army at the marshlands lying to the west of Sudhafen. Rhan’k’adanra was now making its prescence felt, and many southern lords appealed to the Emperor for more men and support in the war for the south.
With the outbreak of war Lord Larkin was cautious, keen to protect his financial interests. Though declaring his family's support for the Alptraum dynasty he was reticent to send troops to fight in the war. Loyalty to the throne was one thing, but jeopardizing lives (particularly one's own) for little material gain would be quite another.
As such, Lord Larkin had thus far only mustered troops to defend his own borders in the south. Yet the increasing turmoil that has engulfed the Empire finally forced his hand, especially in light of Rhan’k’adanra making further inroads into the southern marches. So it was in the year 669PC Lord Larkin called the banners and marched west to the aid of neighboring Sudhafen.
At the head of the army were the glorious Galamory Silverspurs, a resplendent brigade of demigryph knights, the majority of whom are self-financed yet ambitious noble sons who won their laurels (and their exotic mounts) on foreign campaigns in their quest for glory, fame and riches.
Yet their finery and reputation stood for little against the hordes unleashed by Rhan’k’adanra. The daemonic legions were gathered in full strength, no longer making raiding forays but instead intent on full militarized invasion. In the Nimarn Valley, Lord Larkin’s host was soundly rebuffed by the multitude of mystifying Rhan’k’adanran daemons, his Galamory Silverspurs overwhelmed by ferocious attacks and bewildering magicks.
The daemonic host advanced further still into the Empire, until it was eventually (though just barely) held in check by the Steel Count von Schaffernacke’s army at the marshlands lying to the west of Sudhafen. Rhan’k’adanra was now making its prescence felt, and many southern lords appealed to the Emperor for more men and support in the war for the south.
Monday, 12 November 2012
War spills over to the colonies
The Ogre mercenary armies mustered their strength at Ulrichshafen in preparation for committing their support to the Imperial armies that were fighting to contain the Drazkharov rebellion. However, the Baron Giovanni d’Cadavero of Scorcio intervenes on behalf of his Drazkharov cousins to hinder the Ogre’s efforts.
Cadavero moved quickly on Ulrichshafen, mercilessly driving his troops onwards in a night march to catch the Ogres unawares. As the mercenaries gathered at the city gates, Cadavero’s forces descended on the docks, their target the fleet of ships waiting at anchor to carry the Ogres to the Holy Sigmarite Empire. The Baron took full advantage of the element of surprise and his men set the fleet ablaze, sinking every last ship and leaving the Ogres stranded.
The Ogre mercenary captains, incensed by this open act of war, launched a punitive attack on Cadavero’s soldiers as they withdrew from the harbour. Turning to face the threat, the Baron himself led the charge. But the fury of the Ogres was great indeed, and the Baron was unceremoniously crushed beneath the hooves of the thundering Ogre cavalry. Without Cadavero’s direction and leadership his troops were picked off piecemeal and the army utterly destroyed.
Their rage vented, the Ogres were left with little choice but to make the long march overland to go to the aid of the beleaguered Empire. However, the shortest route brought the Ogres within sight of the borders of the Kaalroen Empire. Sensing a threat heralded by the dust clouds kicked behind the Ogre column marching across the horizon, the lords of Phalicia were quick to summon their own warriors to defend their lands against potential invaders.
The Ogres, weary and strung out on the march, were caught off-guard. Though they gave battle with discipline and stout resolve they were overpowered by the Kaalroen warriors. The way ahead blocked, the Ogres were compelled to make the long march back to Ulrichshafen.
While the Empire is beset by foes the Ogres sit frustrated in Adler an Zee, grieving over a missed opportunity for gold and spoils of war. In Sigmarheim, the Emperor’s diplomats continue to send increasingly desperate pleas for aid to any who will heed the call.
Cadavero moved quickly on Ulrichshafen, mercilessly driving his troops onwards in a night march to catch the Ogres unawares. As the mercenaries gathered at the city gates, Cadavero’s forces descended on the docks, their target the fleet of ships waiting at anchor to carry the Ogres to the Holy Sigmarite Empire. The Baron took full advantage of the element of surprise and his men set the fleet ablaze, sinking every last ship and leaving the Ogres stranded.
The Ogre mercenary captains, incensed by this open act of war, launched a punitive attack on Cadavero’s soldiers as they withdrew from the harbour. Turning to face the threat, the Baron himself led the charge. But the fury of the Ogres was great indeed, and the Baron was unceremoniously crushed beneath the hooves of the thundering Ogre cavalry. Without Cadavero’s direction and leadership his troops were picked off piecemeal and the army utterly destroyed.
Their rage vented, the Ogres were left with little choice but to make the long march overland to go to the aid of the beleaguered Empire. However, the shortest route brought the Ogres within sight of the borders of the Kaalroen Empire. Sensing a threat heralded by the dust clouds kicked behind the Ogre column marching across the horizon, the lords of Phalicia were quick to summon their own warriors to defend their lands against potential invaders.
The Ogres, weary and strung out on the march, were caught off-guard. Though they gave battle with discipline and stout resolve they were overpowered by the Kaalroen warriors. The way ahead blocked, the Ogres were compelled to make the long march back to Ulrichshafen.
While the Empire is beset by foes the Ogres sit frustrated in Adler an Zee, grieving over a missed opportunity for gold and spoils of war. In Sigmarheim, the Emperor’s diplomats continue to send increasingly desperate pleas for aid to any who will heed the call.
The war for the south
The province of Hoffenland was struggling to recover from the devastation wrought by the Skaven during the Battle of Eichenwald. Though the combined might of the Imperial army and High Elves of Mellvellon did their best, the total expulsion of the rat-men proved an insurmountable task. The Skaven were well supplied by their fleet, particularly by airship convoys that were proving almost impossible for the Imperial navy to intercept. Moreover, they had entrenched themselves in the Eichenwald forest, weaving a network of make-shift lairs and tunnels in which they could take refuge and plan further raids into the Empire.
Yet the Skaven found themselves hampered instead by the Dark Elf Dominion as the corsair lords continued marauding into Flackland and Hoffenland. Competition for plunder and slaves escalated between the rivals and their full-blown confrontations bore out in bloody battles raging across villages and farmsteads as stricken locals cower behind barricaded doors.
In most of these exchanges the Dark Elves have gained the upper hand, their seasoned and battle-hardened pirates more than a match at close quarters for the Skaven foot-soldiers. However the Dark Elves have struggled to capitalize on their victories; for every clanrat cut down two more skulk in the shadows, waiting to take his place.
With increasingly frequent Domovoi raids now targeting Flackland and Rhan'k'adanra making ever more aggressive moves into Imperial territory, it becomes all the more difficult for the now thinly spread Dominion to concentrate its efforts on the rich pickings posed by a vulnerable and distracted Holy Sigmarite Empire. All the while, peasants live in terror of being carried off to slavery or a fate worse still by the multitude of enemies that now ravage the lands in the south.
Yet the Skaven found themselves hampered instead by the Dark Elf Dominion as the corsair lords continued marauding into Flackland and Hoffenland. Competition for plunder and slaves escalated between the rivals and their full-blown confrontations bore out in bloody battles raging across villages and farmsteads as stricken locals cower behind barricaded doors.
In most of these exchanges the Dark Elves have gained the upper hand, their seasoned and battle-hardened pirates more than a match at close quarters for the Skaven foot-soldiers. However the Dark Elves have struggled to capitalize on their victories; for every clanrat cut down two more skulk in the shadows, waiting to take his place.
With increasingly frequent Domovoi raids now targeting Flackland and Rhan'k'adanra making ever more aggressive moves into Imperial territory, it becomes all the more difficult for the now thinly spread Dominion to concentrate its efforts on the rich pickings posed by a vulnerable and distracted Holy Sigmarite Empire. All the while, peasants live in terror of being carried off to slavery or a fate worse still by the multitude of enemies that now ravage the lands in the south.
Saturday, 10 November 2012
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