The Rhinoxen or Rhinox are large bad tempered beasts that inhabit the Mountains of Mourne and less commonly in other eastern mountain ranges when they migrate. They are often found in Ogre tribes either as beasts of burden, food or as mounts to the veterans of the tribe. Rhinoxen are notoriously ill-tempered and extremely difficult to ‘tame’, which is to say it’s impossible to tame one but an Ogre may at least try to break one into cooperating stubbornly. They have very poor eyesight and while they rely on their sense of smell to distinguish friend from foe, all their senses are relatively poor.

A herd of Rhinoxen will never willingly alter its path for anything— be it rockfall, weather, or monstrous predator. Some of this has to do with their own tough nature, as thick skin and shaggy, coarse hair protects the Rhinox from the elements and all but the most horrendous of damage. Doubtless, some of their fearlessness also stems from the creature’s obstinate ways. However, the notoriously bad eyesight of the Rhinox certainly factors into its penchant for walking blindly into precarious situations.

As they live in the extremes of high altitude — with numbing winds, snow squalls and the ever present threat of blizzards, — visibility is often limited anyway, so the fact that a Rhinox cannot see more than a few strides ahead is not nearly as debilitating as it would be for a beast of the plains. To compensate for its near-blindness, the lumbering Rhinox has developed a keen sense of smell and has learned to charge anything that doesn’t reek like another Rhinox. On occasion, they will charge even if its does smell like a Rhinox, as the creatures are just that hostile, and the smell really is that bad. Powered by thick haunches of purest muscle, a ram from a charging Rhinox is devastating and those lucky enough to avoid being gored or skewered by its horns can still be flung airborne by the force of its impact. Dwarf trappers often say that startling a Rhinox is the fastest way of getting down a mountain.

“I tell you, the comparison with Dragons is a highly misleading one. Wyverns are clearly a different order of beast entirely, being as it were four-limbed rather than six-limbed. Furthermore, Wyverns have none of the redeeming qualities of Dragons. They swap pride for arrogance and nobility for cruelty. There is probably no creature quite so vicious as a Wyvern, which of course is why they ally themselves to Orcs so frequently.“
—Waldemarr, Scholar of Nuln

Wyverns are ill-omened beasts that skulk about the heights of mountain tops, dwelling in dank caves save when hunger drives them forth to hunt the foothills and plains below the mountains. They are winged reptiles, eaters of carrion, that bear only the most passing resemblance to Dragons. They are typically far smaller creatures, and lack forelimbs. They are heavily built, like a scaled bull, with terrible eyesight and nasty tempers. The most dangerous of Ork Warlords sometimes ride Wyverns they’ve personally raised, or at least beat into compliance. The Dwarfs have a number of amusing tales involving Wyverns turning on their riders at ‘inconvenient’ moments, like in the midst of a duel.

With their scaled hides and a penchant for mountain-top lairs, Wyverns have often been misidentified as smaller, fouler-smelling and much less intelligent Dragons. In truth, such mistakes are understandable. The two races have many similarities, and their only obvious difference is the Wyvern’s lack of forelimbs – the kind of detail that is easily overlooked when the observer is running as fast as possible in the other direction. For their part, Dragons look down on Wyverns as the lesser creatures they truly are, and embrace the idea that their races might share some thread of kinship with all the enthusiasm of an Elf Prince embracing a particularly drunken and vomit-stained Dwarf.

“I honestly have no idea how such a creature could exist without the touch of Chaos. This creature has all the characteristics of a normal serpent, but in place of its tail, it has a second head. Furthermore, it seems it has strong scales that deflect blows, somewhat akin to those found on a Dragon.“
—Reinholt Schent, Scholar of the Fantastic

The Amphisbaena is a rare creature originally found only in the darkest jungles of Lustria, where strange energies welled up from beneath the ground. It looks like a normal snake, but instead of its body ending in a tail, it sprouts a second head. When discovered by Tilean explorers in the early sixteenth century, they brought the creature back as a symbol of their excellence and as an example of the wonders found in the New World. However, on the way back to Tilea, the creature multiplied, and the new creatures slipped free from their cages. The Amphisbaena attacked the crew and killed everyone on board, causing the ship to smash against the rocks near Sartosa. Since then, these creatures spread throughout Tilea and the Border Princes, even creeping into the southern territory of the Empire. Few have had the bad fortune to see one of these creatures, but it’s well known that an encounter with the Amphisbaena spells one’s doom.

One of the most subtle, deadly, and expensive of all poisons, the ‘Noble’s Death’ commonly known as Heartkill, derives from a lethal mixture of Amphisbaena and Jabberslythe venoms.

Hydras are absolutely huge, possessing many long necks and covered in thick scales. Their heads resemble those of Dragons, although with birdlike beaks. Most have five heads, although the number can vary between individuals.

They can easily tear warriors apart with fangs or even crush them with the lethal coil of their many necks. Not only that, but they’re near impervious to harm, with scales thick enough to deflect most blows. Even if an attack does get through, many enemies have witnessed the tough flesh re-growing within a minute. Their scales are said to be harder than Dragon scales and hence sought out to make armor from, albeit foolishly.

Imperial scholars believe that the brains of Hydras are located at the base of their necks, while the individual heads only have rudimentary minds. The organ that allows the creatures to breathe fire is also located in this area. As such, their torsos are armored with particularly thick scales.

Hydras are exceptionally rare especially throughout the Empire, with only two known documented and verified cases of a Hydra sighting. The Corpse Render of Carroburg is a legendary tale often repeated throughout rural Middenland concerning this particular Hydra. It’s become more of a fanciful tale regaled down at the local tavern, evolving from it’s original intent as a tale of caution. This particular Hydra however is steeped in verified testimony by Midden soldiers who were tasked to root it out from the Mirror Moors, who had, unwisely, brought with them a Steamtank into the wet Midden Moorlands. The Hydra had apparently attempted to eat the Steamtank, but while failing that, it succeeded in killing most of the regiment that had sought it out. The Steamtank is said to be still there in the Mirror Moors, half-sunken in the marsh, dented and ruined beyond recovery. The Dwarves of Middenheim claim that a Slayer had finally done the beast in, but rare and unverified sightings of the Hydra have continued to surface over the many years.

The other documented sighting concerns the Crimson Scourge of Zhufbar which, like the Corpse Render, tales of its existence continues to surface long after its supposed demise.

Preytons are the reason why the famed Knights of Bretonnia will never seek respite within the Forests of Bretonnia; quoting Sir Merovech of Couronne, “I would rather seek comfort in a mausoleum in dread Mousillon than lay beneath the dark canopy of the Arden forest and fall foul of their baleful glow.”

Preytons are the stuff of nightmares throughout Bretonnia; rare that they may be, but their existence is never exaggerated nor are they even told in fanciful tales to scare adventurous children from wandering alone in the forests of Bretonnia, a dangerous endeavor regardless.

Also sometimes known by the peasantry as Shadow Stalkers, for they favor the dark recesses of the deepest forests, they are a savage and hateful breed of Chaos beast that haunts Bretonnia. So renowned is their ferocity that sightings of Preytons will draw knights from many miles around, seeking to prove their valor by slaying the beasts and to keep the land safe.

Mighty and winged but flightless creatures born of the energies of Chaos, hybrid in form like the Chimera Preytons bear upon their savagely equine heads a pair of blackened and serrated antlers, which have caused foolhardy knights to mistake them for majestic Great Stags, much to their error and demise.

It is said they possess a dark cunning, luring knights into the depths of the forest before revealing their blood red eyes and rows of savage fangs, leaping from ambush to rend and tear their prey. The hides of Preytons are torn and mutilated, their fur hanging lank and in many places sloughed away to be replaced by ragged feathers or scales. Their forelegs and body resemble a dark and twisted stag, while their hindquarters sprout clawed, leonine paws and monstrous wings like those of a terrible black eagle.

Whilst their appearance is truly evil, it is the legendary malice of the Preytons that makes them truly dangerous. Corpses mauled beyond recognition and stretches of forest befouled and trampled betray their presence. Anything foolish enough to enter such an area will be hunted down and slain, and often the Preytons will simply discard the torn corpse to rot, killing out of pure hatred rather than hunger.

Dark legend has it that Beastmen shamans are responsible for the origins of this foul creature, created in horrific rituals, corrupting Great Stags before sacrifice-strewn Herdstones. Bereft of their once noble nature, Preytons now know only an all-encompassing hatred for that which they have lost, driving them to rend and kill with terrible malice. Even their own wounds bring them a twisted sense of satisfaction, instinctively realizing that only in death will their torment end.

No Preyton has ever been sighted or heard of in the Empire; which perhaps makes the legend just that, a legend, considering that there are Beastmen in the Empire. Regardless of its origins, the Shadow Stalkers of Bretonnia are not a myth and have throughout Bretonnia’s history, claimed many a questing knight seeking to fell one.

Delving into the obscurity when it comes to the Old World’s bestiary can be a fun exercise as there are many not-so-common monstrosities that are a feature in some form be it old canon, concepts or just rare enough for a party to only encounter them as a rarity.

The Zoat is an enigmatic centauroid reptilian and to look upon one, you may be forgiven to think them as unintelligent beasts but that ain’t true at all. Zoats are highly intelligent creatures that are extremely rare to encounter and often dwell in the deepest parts of the oldest forests within the Old World. They have an innate instinctive natural affinity for the Wind of Ghyran (life) that rivals even the best High Elven mages.

Zoats are centauroid with thick columnar legs and a shuffling, nervous gait. They are reptilian and their skins are covered in scales. They are said to have a ‘wry’ expression because of the twisted or crooked way in which they often hold their heads. This may be due to the way in which they sway their heads from side to side, a primitive mechanism which allows them to scent other living creatures.  They have a massive physical presence and superficial ugliness that shields a cunning intelligence. They have heavy plates of fused scales covering their shoulders, back and hindquarters, and are about 6 feet high and 8 feet long. Their heads are reminiscent of snakes or turtles, but with a broad, heavily-armored skull to accommodate their brains, which are proportionally large.

These creatures are solitary and prefer to keep themselves, cementing themselves in tales and legends and unfortunately sometimes such stories of them are thrown together with beastmen.

Zoats are peaceful creatures who prefer to protect their territory and spend their time in solitary reflection but will not hesitate to harm those who fringe upon their territory, regardless of who or what they may be. The wood elves of the Old World are aware of the Zoats but mostly through stories; in a previous age long gone, the Zoats numbered far greater than they are now when encounters with them were common. As a result of this, some Zoats have an understanding of the elven language but otherwise they speak in a grinding rumbling tongue that is slow and methodical.

The squigs are the Old World’s deranged answer to crocodiles in the sense that they experience continued growth throughout their lives. It’s a blessing then that it’s rare for them to get as big as the Colossal Squig. These humongous squigs tend to habit the deep vaults of mountain ranges and large caverns of the Old World. Night Goblins, who are the frequent tenuous ally of these beasts find it nigh impossible to train or even utilize a squig of this size. Where-as those who succeeded through drugged meat and shaman magic often find that the high maintenance in keeping such a squig around will prove to be their undoing when it comes to paying the cost.

“When Indrika roar, the sky falls. When Indrika stamp their foot, the earth trembles. When Indrika die, the land will die.” – Baba Olga, Kislevian Ungol. Cited from Realms of the Ice Queen sourcebook, 2nd edition.

The size of an ogre and equal to if not slightly larger than a Giant Ice Bear, these massive roaming beasts call Kislev their home. Indrika, a name that in Kislev means ‘Mountain Lord’, the Ungol tribes of Kislev revere and respect these creatures. They are not used as mounts or beasts of burden although in rough times however some nomadic Gospodars who do not share the same reverence as the Ungols do for these beasts, hunt them for their hide and meat.

Indrika’s are not defenseless however and aside from their impressive ability to charge and stomp and impale would-be aggressors, their most known for their great thunderous bellows. They can rear up and bring both front legs down hard, creating powerful vibrations. At the same time, it opens up its massive chest and throat and expels a deep baritone call. The combined effect of the vibrations, the call, and the echoing effect of the valleys below means this bellow can be heard more than twenty miles away. Indrika use this to communicate and to ward off aggressors, which can be quite effective. It has the known side-effect of causing avalanches. They are intelligent enough to realize small avalanches at regular intervals prevent larger ones that would destroy the trees from which they get the mosses and lichen they feed upon. Ungol tribes are known to differentiate the slight tremors caused by Indrika’s between their mating calls, communication and those that are meant to ward off aggressors, the latter being the one that will summon Ungol riders as they know that the Indrika’s natural predator is, for the most part, man. It is a death sentence to slay an Indrika if caught, and has often been the root cause of disputes between the Gospodars and the Ungols.

Harpies are a rare winged monstrosity that, from afar, might resemble a naked winged woman, but up close, nothing is further from the truth. These hideous witch-like bird-like creatures are feral sky-screamers that are vicious and spiteful, displaying only the meanest glimmerings of intelligence and, even then, only to malicious purpose. Innately cowardly creatures, Harpies band together in great sky-borne flocks, which roam high above the mountainsides and valleys in search of prey defenseless enough to risk attacking. Harpies care little where their next meal comes from and will as happily steal eggs from a Great Eagle’s  nest as raid farmstead for cattle, isolated villages for the old and infirm or battlefields for meagre scraps of flesh from spent corpses. They are the vultures of the sky; scavengers at heart but can be driven to more brazen attacks if on the verge of starving.

The Dark Elves consider them to be the souls of slain Witch Elves while others may see them as the Blessed of Khaine. Harpies are prone to mutations and it’s not uncommon to spot them harboring some unsightly mutations. Three-headed and four armed harpies have been observed before…

The foretelling of one’s dooming is a rite of passage for many children in the Old World. This long-held rite is practiced throughout the Empire and even in parts beyond, although with greater variance.

When a child approaches the age of ten, it is time for them to receive the Rite of Dooming. The dooming foretells the manner upon which they will leave the Old World, often in cryptic means and usually done by a priest of Morr. When the latter is not available, it is not uncommon for the rite to be performed by another priest or even the child’s own parents. The dooming’s themselves are not implied to be accurate prophecies of one’s own death, but is deeply tied into the belief that it will ease the soul’s passing into the Garden of Morr, Morr’s realm.

Commonly practiced in the Empire, including the southern provinces such as Tilea and Estalia, the Rite of Dooming is often performed differently depending upon where one hails from. In Reikland for example, the practice is done without any flair or pomp as priests of Morr provide the service requested upon them quietly and efficiently, as well as travelling priests who perform the rite upon children they encounter, urchins and the like. In Nordland, ‘Doomtag’ is a festival held on the night before a new year, where children are gathered by their parents and the rite is performed by a priest of Morr while feasting on bloodpie or whatever may be handy at the moment. The age of children is less relevant during Doomtag.

In Ostermark, the rite takes a darker turn and is performed in a much more terrifying manner. Here, the Morr clergy performs the dooming in a complex affair on the Day of Mystery; Geheimnistag, and they do so under the gaze of twin moons. A sacrifice of horse flesh or some kind of livestock, along with ritualistic dancing involving blood drenched priests of Morr who foretell the dooming for as many children as possible that may be present. The rite is looked down upon by the more reticent Church of Morr clergy and while not forbidden, the rite performed in this manner is highly discouraged as it often results in trauma for the children, although some might argue its less to do with that and more to do with dancing under the gaze of Morrslieb while drenched in blood.

Regardless of how it is being performed, the idea behind the dooming is the same; to ease the passing of the soul into Morr’s grasp. Offerings are usually made although not always necessary, but are encouraged as these offerings are meant as a tribute to Morr in exchange for allowing the child’s soul to be at ease.

Origins (There’s no lore concerning this that I could find, so this is my own insert using bits of established lore)

The origins of the dooming ritual is hard to pinpoint. It is likely that the origin comes from a time when Morr’s old but long forgotten name was once well known, for ‘Morr’ is his name in classic reikspiel.

Some believe the ritual has origins with the Thuringian tribe of men, who inhabited what is now known as the Drakwald, who offered up their souls to Morr for protection, before going into battle. However, this is unlikely. The Thuringian tribes were not numerous unlike the other tribes of men, and like all tribes back then, even during Sigmar’s reign, they were insular and protective of their traditional beliefs.

There is merit to believe that the origins of the Rite of Dooming hails from one of Sigmar’s most troubled period, something that is etched in the faintest of oral history and barely told in scratchings. It is a saga told in multiple parts that are not always readily obvious in their relation to one another, although the bulk of it comes from the tale of Reikdorf’s (what is now Altdorf) near fall to an ancient and powerful enemy. This enemy was said to be of Nehekharan descent and a powerful sorcerer. This sorcerer would be none other than Nagash, The Undying King, the Father of Vampires. Simply referenced as some powerful sorcerer of Nehekharan descent in the old texts, it was said he came into conflict with Sigmar and had marched an army upon Reikdorf. The texts allude that he was capable of ‘ensnaring the souls’ of his enemies.

While this powerful sorcerer was defeated at the hands of Sigmar, the great fear would remain embedded in the minds of the tribes at the time. Old drawings and obscure texts draw references to bizarre almost pagan-like rituals being performed to protect one’s soul from being ensnared by wickedness, and these rituals were performed in Morr’s name.

So it is likely that the present-day doom rituals stem from an ancient fear brought upon by the rise of this Nehekharan sorcerer, who was obscurely referenced as ensnaring the souls of his victims. The doomings after all, are entrenched in the belief that performing these will protect the soul of the intended person, and should they expire, protect that soul until it reaches the Garden of Morr.

Doomings Are Fun

When creating characters, I always have my players roll on the doom table. It is a fun part of creation and oddly enough, has led to some coincidental death prophecies coming true. Here’s a few of the current and past doomings.

Current:

• Eadulf – Thy body may rot, but thy soul shall forever haunt the land.
• Ingo – Beware of the Pointed Hat (very apt).
• Ifaris Kroll – Morr comes screaming to thy door (again, apt concerning this character has 4 fate points).
• Iorite Silverfist – Beware the purse, the sack, the velvet bag.
• Rylan Karth – A passion that is forbidden to you shall be your undoing.
• Otto – Entrails by thy grave.

Past:

• Ser Gado – forgot the wording, but something to do with being face down in the snow. Came true, considering Gado died to the north of Nordland, in the snow.
• Anya (spooky) – Thou shalt see deep into the eyes of evil three times in thy life, and the third time will be thy last.
• Cragg (Crash) the Ogre – Thy doom is so terrible, mortal mind cannot comprehend. Came true, since he died of Nurgles Rot, a grim fate.
• Bash Throggarth, Ogre – Under the bridge lies thine doom. Bash’s death came by tackling a undead beast off the top battlements and it was the fall that killed him. So in a way, not far off.
• Wick – Thy spirit will be wrenched from thee. Very apt, considering Wick was ‘possessed’ by a volatile and unpredictable spirit, although not the actual cause of his death.
• Jurgen Noffein – Beware of the beast in the wood, it is Morr’s messenger. Jurgen is still alive.
• Liz Schar – As dark clouds gather, thy end looms. Very apt, considering Ifaris Kroll’s arrival via magic was foretold by a heavy overcast sky and thunder, and Liz expiring shortly afterwards.
• Sindri Khornebane – Your doom shall be told in tale and sung in song. Sindri is still alive.
• Ulrico Eisenhower – I forget, but something about screaming till death. Apt considering he was tortured to death by witch hunters.

Author’s Note: There’s very little established lore that expands upon Alaric’s background. What’s there is not much. So a lot of this will be a combination of what is established and then creative intent from me to expand upon iit.

One of the greatest dwarf runesmiths to have ever lived was Alaric the Mad, an epithet that stuck with him throughout the ages to the point that his full name has long been forgotten. He was the personal Master Runesmith to King Kurgan Ironbeard who was the High King during the reign of Sigmar Heldenhammer. Sigmar had once saved King Ironbeard’s life, and in doing so, he was gifted Ghal Maraz – Skull Splitter. Presently, Alaric is often mistakenly credited with crafting Ghal Maraz. In dwarf legends, it is Smednir, Shaper of Ore and one of the Ancestor Gods that is believed to be responsible for Ghal Maraz, and not Alaric. However, Sigmar’s act in saving Ironbeard earned him an eternity of dawi gratitude. King Ironbeard commanded Alaric to forge 12 Runefangs for each of the 12 tribal leaders who followed Sigmar Heldenhammer.

Alaric had spent a century forging the Runefangs that would become the great symbols of imperial unity wielded by the Elector-Counts. His relentless commitment to forging them is believed to have earned him the moniker, ‘The Mad’, although the truth is that he became known this after he decided to spend his time away from the dawi, and shared knowledge of his craft with the humans. Alaric believed that Man had a great destiny, and that the tides of chaos could only be held at bay by sharing wisdom. The dawi did not take his actions kindly, regarding him as a wayward soul.

Alaric’s greatest achivement at the time was the Runefangs, but he grew restless with ambition. Seeking inspiration, he found it in the annuls of dwarven history. The exploits of Gotrek Starbreaker and the Dragon Helm of Kingship; specifically, it was the Master Rune of Kingship he was interested in. With good intentions, Alaric believed he could create something similar and present it as a gift to Man, for he saw that men often quarreled amongst themselves and rarely were they unified. He believed such a crown could bring unity to the tribes. So it was that he sought to create the Master Rune of Ages, that would be the unifying symbol of Men throughout the eras.

Alaric spent far longer crafting the Master Rune of Ages than he did on the 12 Runefangs collectively. He became a recluse, lost in his work and shied away from those who sought to turn his attention elsewhere. His seclusion was so great, that for over a century or more, many believed he had simply perished.

He encountered a problem however that held him back; no matter what material he had used for the Rune of Ages, it would shatter. Be it iron, Gromril, Dragon scales; no material known to him could bear the weight of the Master Rune of Ages. Faced with the prospect of his life work amounting to a waste of time, he grew desperate in his despair and walked the trails of the Old World as a shadow of himself, aimlessly looking for something that could bear the weight of his task.

He travelled to the forbidden Rune Forges of the far north, to lost sunken dwarf holds to the far south, and still, nothing. That was, until he came across a hold that had fallen to enemies from within. Skaven. Stumbling upon their nest, Alaric drove the looting scavenging vermin away from the Hold’s precious treasures and amidst his struggle to do so, he discovered something. The Skaven had in their possession a strange piece of rock he had never seen before. Warpstone. He had found what he was looking for.

With the Warpstone in his possession, Alaric worked tirelessly upon a forge he built himself to harness the power of the Master Rune. When he was finished, he created the Crown of Crowns, the Crown of Ages. It is said that when he had finished his work, and had finally looked upon his creation with clarity of thought, is when he realized his greatest mistake. He cursed himself, he cursed his blind ambition and the madness that took him to create such a thing. He knew, if he would gift such a crown to Man, that Man would take the crown gladly, and that it would lead to the utter ruin of Man and all those who got in their way.

Wielding Tonitruum, his forge hammer, he smited the crown with all his strength. His mighty hammer cracked upon impact, and the crown did not budge. Knowing he was incapable of destroying his own creation, he sought to hide it. He contemplated giving it to the High King, to seal it away. But he was so far remove from dawi society, he could not be certain if he could trust the High King. Man must not find it, nor the vermin beneath their feet.

Alaric did something he never thought he would do, and sought guidance. But there was only one he knew he could trust. His estranged brother was a king. A rebellious one for that matter whose line of ancestors refused to offer fealty to the High King. Alaric’s fealty to High King Kurgan Ironbeard was a point of contention between the two. But now he needed his advice and aid.

His brother was the King of Karaz Ghumzul, a hold that did not fair well during the Time of Woes and had isolated itself from trade. It was located in the Middle Mountains. Alaric went there not with the intention of hiding the crown there, but to question his brother. His brother’s name has never been penned, as the dwarfs did not acknowledge his line, his right to rule as a result of the shame placed upon him that stemmed from an act of rebellion that goes far back as the War of the Beard. Such an act would have earned a grudge, nominally, but so incensed was the High King at the time of betrayal, he refused to spend ink on acknowledging the king’s name and instead committed the act of betrayal to the Book of Grudges as simply, “Karaz Ghum’zul,” committing the entire hold responsible for the grudge. Even Alaric had never uttered his brother’s name in front of High King Kurgan Ironbeard or even acknowledged him, struggled to recall his brother’s name upon meeting him at Ghum’zul. When he first met him, Alaric was said to have commented in anger, “I spent centuries focused on one task. I spent half of that trying to find this damned Hold of yours!”

It became clear to Alaric that Ghum’zul was truly a ‘lost hold’, untouched by enemies and even the dawi outside of it knew little of its presence, preferring not to acknowledge its existence. Alaric’s conversations with his brother were fraught with uncertainty. He was worried foremost that his brother would use the Crown to spite the High King, or worse, use it to stage an open rebellion. But his worries had quickly melted away, for he found that his brother had been a prisoner to his ancestors habits as much as Alaric has been a prisoner to the moniker of ‘The Mad’. They were of one mind; that this crown must never fall in the hands of another.

And so it was that Alaric’s Folly was buried in the deepest, darkest vaults of Ghum’zul. What happened to Alaric thereafter is uncertain. What is known is that sometime during the reign of his brother, the date of which is unknown, a great exodus had occurred. The dawi of Ghum’zul did not leave Ghum’zul, they fled.

Why is not known. But since that time, Ghum’zul has been regarded as a cursed place, forgotten in time and the dawi have, up until recently, been quite keen to leave it to the annuls of history.

The Old World is orbited by two moons; Morrslieb and Mannslieb.

Mannslieb is the larger of the two, and follows a predictable orbit cycle of 25 days. In Reikspiel, its name means ‘Beloved of Manann and is held sacred to Manann, God of the Sea. Sailors and adventurers commited to long voyagers will often wear or come into contact with ‘moon’ amulets and emblems signifying the reverence of the moon.

Others hold differing significance to the moon. The lizards of Lustria refer to Mannslieb as ‘The Silvered One’, while the Dwarfs refer to it as Gormlhune in Khazalid, which means High Moon or Old Moon. Tileans known it as the Eye of Verena, and all sins committed under her watchful gaze will never go unpunished.

Some very old cultures, particularly those raised around coastal communities including some Norse tribes consider the moons in a sibling manner. Mannslieb is the ‘Elder Moon’ while Morrslieb is the ‘Drowned Moon’. In this version, Manann is the Elder sibling, who drowned Stromfel, his younger and malicious brother. Stromfel is a god regarded by many names but most commonly called the Shark God, or the Lord of Predators, Lord of Storms and The Wrecker. He is an enemy god to Manann and his followers, although some regard Stromfel as a darker aspect of Manann, but its generally accepted that they are separate. In the sibling tale of Mannslieb, Manann had drowned his chaotic brother by banishing him to the depths of the sea. But Stromfel had risen to become the Chaos moon, for the Gates of Morr could not contain his corrupted spirit, and continues to chase his brother, Mannslieb, in the sky to exact revenge.

Morrslieb is the smaller of the two moons. It is unpredictable and follows no set orbital pattern, defying astrologists. Its name means ‘Beloved of Morr’, and is considered to be the dread aspect of Morr, something to be feared. It bears many names, Mankind knows it most as ‘The Ill-moon’ while scholars and the like tend to call it ‘The Chaos Moon’ while old cultures refer to it as the ‘Dread Omen’ or ‘Dread Moon’. Nearly all of society consider the moon to be an ill-omen. Arcane wielders of the winds in particular will feel its disruptive effect upon the winds, and know all to well the headache that Morrslieb brings when trying to cast upon the arcane arts.

Beastmen worship what they refer to as the Chaos Moon and often conduct obscene horrific rituals under its ill-gaze. Practitioners of the dark arts favor the moon the most, for it will grant them many boons in casting dark magic.

Like Mannslieb, Morrslieb has many differing creation myths, most born out of fear. A popular one among some Morrites, that being the Cult of Morr, consider the moon with reverence to the God of Death, Dreams and Prophecy; Morr. Beloved of Morr in old Reikspiel, the Morrites believe that the moon’s appearance in the sky is an ill-omen, but not one that they should fear. For such a night may hold many terrors, but when Morrslieb is full, is when the Morrites more militant orders go hunting; for they believe it foretells trouble, a time when the dead are restless and their souls weep.

There are only two times in the whole year when both Morrslieb and Mannslieb are full; and on both of these nights is when Morrslieb’s greatest influence is felt.

Hexensnacht, which means Witching Night, falls on New Years Eve, and is the only night upon which both moons can be predicted to rise on the imperial calendar with certainty. While Witching Night is often regarded with dread, it is also a cause for celebration to bring in the new year and fear will often subside as the night goes on. Although it is largely dependent on the state of affairs for those celebrating, for not every new year is welcomed.

 Geheimnisnach, which means Night of Mysteries, is regarded as a ‘floating holiday’ which means the day which it falls upon is usually uncertain. It however tends to fall on during the middle months of the year or before the onset of winter. Celestial mages and astrologists can often see the signs that signify Geheimnisnach approaches, usually within the same month or the month prior for celestial wizards. It is the most feared night of the year, with good reason. Morrslieb is closer to the Old World than on any other night, casting its malign influence upon the world. There is little celebration to be done on such a night unless you are a worshipper of chaos, a beast of taint or foul sorcerer. For on such a night, the veil between the living and the dead is at its weakest, and it is when daemons encroach upon the world with greater malice and power. Such a night is to be feared.

Common Insights From Old Worlders:

The ill-moon? A strange one. I have spent a considerable amount of study on the subject, and my conclusion then has not changed in the now. Superstition at best. I agree the moon is eerie in nature, and one might even say frightening on a dark night under its grim gaze. It continues to defy any pattern to its orbit, and has perplexed astrologists for years and I’m sure it will continue to do so. But I assure you; the moon is just that, a moon. Born in folktales and wild, and I must say, imaginative stories pertaining to its origin, but it is frankly as I just said; a moon. Nothing more.

– A Scholar of Marienburg University

Ar’Uzkul? It’s a bloodeye sore is what it is!

– Some fearless dwarf

I can only speak upon the influence that it has on the Winds of Magic my dear unwashed chamber pot. I will only say this much, and that is I dare not draw from the Aethyr on such a night unless I have no choice! It is a ill moon for sure, and it twists and changes the Winds of Magic, putting everything out of focus. A mighty pain in the backside if you ask me!

– A Magister of Hysh

Seven years of memories. Since the first session post in February 2015, to 2021. Madness.

I had no idea running sessions of 3-5 hours long, sometimes weekly, sometimes bi-weekly, would take up seven years playing for the most part, a single vast campaign. It would be eight years if I included the year of me running my first run of Enemy Within.

This post will be going over some rememberable moments that transpired over those seven years and a brief comment regarding them.

First things first, my 2020 roleplay awards! Few years back I started a little tradition of doing some roleplay awards for my group. A few categories contain awards and such, be it a miniature of their character or a funny little trophy. I have decided to belatedly post the results of that, which took place in December of last year. Bear in mind that the context of these categories are for 2020 moments, with some exceptions. All of these have been voted on by the group.

Player Favorite Moments:
• Eadulf giving mercy to two Blackhearts – a swift end at the tip of a dagger.
• Fighting Gideon in Bogenhafen – In Shadows Over Bogenhafen
• Battling the necrarch vampire – Death on the Reik

Favorite Player Character In Warhammer:
1. Goes to Bash, the Ogre! – Played by kurt.
2. Coming in at a close shave is Wick. – Played by Darren.
Comments made about Bash:
• “Bash really grew as a character before his death, and it’s down to both superb GMing and Roleplay.”
• “He dominates any scene he’s in. And the way he relies on other characters for certain things despite being an unstoppable juggernaut makes him incredibly endearing.”
• “Lovable, deep lore, vast background, goodhearted, a force against chaos.”
Other comments made about Wick & Otto:
• I feel that he utilizes his dog’s very effectively and does very well as this character. Has stepped into his character really well.
• Wick wasn’t with the party for long, but for those moments he was, he left a mark, stepping up to act as Bash’s mouthpiece. He will be missed.

Favorite Past Warhammer Character Is:
1. Gado Duval, The Bretonnian Knight! – Played by Kurt.
2. Second coming is Jurgen Noffein, played by Darren.
Comments made:
• The fact that they were an archetype played straight and done well. How many people play the righteous knight without some kind of edgy twist? And which character was a better righteous knight than Ser Gado Duval?
• Stories are still told about the Bretonnian Knight that dragged the man outside into the snow in the middle of the night and killed him for pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
• Comment made about Jurgen: Powerful sense of duty, loyal and unflinching. His rp with Wolf Lord Brunner was tense and captivating.

Favorite Moment In Warhammer So Far:
• Ingo sacrificing himself to save the Black Hearts from an entirely hopeless situation. – Summoned up a vortex of dark magic to save the Black Hearts from being trapped by a horde of undead.
• Bash getting his ass kicked by a naked bearded nature spirit. – A strange old naked man in the woods thought Bash that strength can come in surprising forms.
• Bogenhafen burning as a result of Kall Horst’s actions. – Kall Horst’s frantic and daring escape from the Crossed Pikes tavern inadvertently caused a raging inferno in the east quarter of the city.
• Liliana rejecting her humanity – Liliana submitting to Tzeentch’s will in the mini-Marienburg campaign.
• Bash surviving the cave-in under Fort Randyll.
• Bash’s fight with Oskar, legendary. – Bash dealing with a mutinous Oskar and putting him in his place, at least for a time.

Favorite Fuck-Up Moment:
• Ulrico goes to talk to the Witch Hunters in Warhammer, which leads to a party wipe.
• The party in Warhammer rushing in to save a ‘baby’ in the village of Lhen only to find out that the baby is a wooden carved doll.
• Honorable Mention: Drop, Drop, Drop… Harbl’s elf Gadriel casting illicit magic and targeting the Champion of the Graf in Middenheim with the Drop spell, so that Ser Gado Duval would prevail in his fight. His actions causes a 3 session diversion as the party fight for their lives in a trial that results in the elf being cast out from the city, banished for life, and Ser Gado barely getting out of the trial with some semblance of honor intact. – Power Behind The Throne.

Award For The Most Fuck-Ups Goes Too…
Joel! (He got a little trophy!)

Comments: (All these are from other players)
• I feel bad for this but it’s always hilarious, from innocents and threatening their lives. Killing characters only for them to kill off the whole party. Let’s not forget starting a war with the elves, as well as slapping the crap out of a teenager after having his dogs bite his leg.
• Child Murder (the act itself), Child Murder (The method of), Going behind the party’s back to child murder (Not making his case to the party) Setting his hounds on a scavenging teen farmhand.

Most Badass Moment In Warhammer This Year:
• Bash’s sacrifice, taking on the monstrous creature to save his lads from yet another hopeless situation. Bash also collapsing a section of a cavern atop himself to stop a mutated Orc from killing the lot of them.
• Bash tackling the flying beast off the castle battlements. (Gets 3 mentions in total)
• Bash drowning Oskar in the river, forcing him to submit.
• Ingo conjuring up the vortex to save the Black Hearts.

Favorite NPC In Warhammer This Year:
• Brannigar The Bull (2 mentions): Keeping everyone in line and being the morale officer.
• Dane Ironheart & The Misfits.
• Mallus Gundersson: “There’s a mystery to him.”

Favorite NPC From Past Games:
• Gideon – Scheming Daemon of Tzeentch, stole every scene he was in.
• Ernst – A stalwart companion at one point, and trusted ear at another.
• Smoff The Ogre – Loveable dumb brute even by Ogre standards.

Favorite NPC & PC Interaction Moment:
• Brannigar pulling Eadulf aside to discuss what to do with the two infected Black Hearts.
• Karth reprimanding one of the Black Heart scouts for wanting to abandon their mission and leave.
• Wick meeting L’hen for the first time.
• Jurgen and the Wolf Lord scenes, meeting the Al’Ulric.
• Ser Gado and the Slaanesh cult hideout.
• Bash and the nature spirit in the forest.

Favorite Death/Fate Point Use In Warhammer:
• The speech given by Crash as Bash looked down into the maw was brilliant.
• Liliana’s escape from the Maria Borger, resulting in a fate point and an explosion of magic.
• Otto getting fucked up by the Black Ork at the village of L’hen.
• Bash’s final moments of reflection. (2 mentions)

And finally, the players voted for the Roleplayer of the Year…

Darren, who has played Liliana, an eccentric and unhinged lady of Marienburg, to two halflings with spunk to a fierce and hardened devout Ulrican Jurgen to his latest character, Sindri the Roamer, the Norscan who has found himself with a life debt to Ifaris Kroll.

^Trophy that I got Darren.

There are some moments that stand out for me, personally.

Mistaken Identity – In the very first chapter of Enemy Within, saw the group ambushed at Weissbruck, a port town that they briefly stopped over on their way to the Bogenhafen festival. Ser Godfrey de Montfort, a player character who had just joined the game, received a harsh welcome in their first session. Played by Tom, they found out how brutal 2nd Edition Warhammer combat can be when they received a crossbow bolt to the head upon stepping out onto the boat. It was literally their first session and not only was he not wearing his helmet, he nearly died as a result of that single hit. What a way to be introduced to the grim nature of the game!

Shadows Over Bogenhafen produced many fond memories. In my first run of it when I ran my first campaign, the party of adventurers were scoping out Johann Teugeon’s manor in an affluent part of Bogenhafen. Their halfling rogue, Fidget, was on his own lurking about the streets when he was approached by a watch man. Upon being questioned as to why he’s roaming about the area, Fidget’s response was, “I’m just admiring the houses.” This immediately got a reaction from the other players, who were not there, but couldn’t help laugh at the response. Even better was that the player of Fidget, Sandeep, could not comprehend what was wrong with what he just said. A dirty little halfling in an affluent neighborhood, remarking, “I’m just admiring the houses,” caused the watchman to immediately get suspicious of the little fella and proceeded to grab him by the arm and bring him down to the local watch barracks.

Fast forward to my second running of the game, and again, set in Bogenhafen. This time a dwarf, Borri, is scoping out the area in an affluent area of the town. Played by Idrael, the player wasn’t aware of what went on in my first campaign (as I closed off the blog of my first run to prevent spoilers) but that didn’t prevent history repeating itself, of a sort. When approached by a patrolling pair of watchmen, and questioned as to his purpose, Borri replied, “I’m admiring the architecture,” which gave a momentary pause fromt he watchmen, who responded with, “Fair. Just stay out of trouble, and don’t go admiring anything too close.” After all, a dwarf admiring the architecture is a fair excuse, certainly more passable than a dirty unwashed halfling!

Another moment in Bogenhafen – when Kall Horst is planning to sneak out of Johann Teugeon’s estate gardens, and looks to climb over a fenced wall, he’s left wondering where his horse, Belvar, went too. Little did he know that the party figured they would bring his horse around to the front of the estate, figuring that Horst would make his escape via that route. It was a hilarious gaffe by the party – the dashing rogue leaving his horse at the rear of the estate for a quick exit, only for two other members of his party to come along, see said horse waiting there, and proceed to lead it by the reigns around to the front of the house. Poor Horst.

During that campaign – Liliana de Sato, played by Darren, is kidnapped by Gideon for a good portion of the campaign. The party are busy trying to find her, but are left with their own problems. Liliana devises her own escape, and finds herself on the outskirts of the town as she escapes a cellar, used by Gideon and couple of Johann’s lackeys. She runs into a fleeing Kall Horst who had a run-in at the Crosspike Tavern and is galloping out of the town in a desperate attempt to escape the fire that he just started, inadvertently. Liliana and Horst meet in the most unexpected way as he’s knocked off his horse from pursuers and dragged to safety out of the way by Liliana. His words, upon waking up and seeing her, were, “Oh. I found Liliana.” It was one of those moments that you couldn’t plan for, but just worked.

There were many moments that I can think back on. All worthy of mention, and i don’t believe I have enough time to mention them all. From the inter-party conflict that arose from Liliana’s attempt to make Godfrey de Montfort’s horse a tad drowsy so that his jousting tourney would not prevail to Ulrico being far too honest for his own good when he put poor Eckhardt in the thick of it in Weissbruck when a creature of darkness came calling to his room, and then the subsequent hilarious attempts by the party to free Eckhardt from the noose.

Valkhana (not sure if I’m spelling that right) played by Cortez, a high-elf mage that was introduced from the aftermath of the Middenheim campaign. Her hilarious miscasting of a spell that caused all her clothing to shoot off her. It was more than just her pride that got wounded, as this happened in the middle of winter, up in the cold north of the Empire. Hilarious.

2021 should bring with it many new memories that I hope will continue to merit discussion many months or years after.

https://periloustales.wordpress.com/2020/10/07/the-sylvanian-question-part-1/

As previously mentioned, I had intended to make some changes to Sylvania, to accommodate changes that I feel would be more appropriate for my game. Some of this is taken from ‘History of Sylvania’ by Alfred Nuñez Jr, with changes incorporated to suit my version of Sylvania.

First, some brief history, starting from the Vampire Wars. I am not predating this with Sylvanian history from the beginning – as that is a lot of work.

The Vampire Wars – 2010-2145 IC – https://warhammerfantasy.fandom.com/wiki/Vampire_Wars

Around 500 years ago from the present timeline that my game takes place in, was a dark period in the chapter of the Empire’s history. The ambitions of Vlad von Carstein, and his wife, Isabella von Carstein, (formerly von Drak) laid the foundations of what would be a 100 year vampiric crusade against the Empire.

By the end of it all, Sylvania lay in ruins. The Empire had suffered untold destruction, death and carnage not seen since the days of the Black Plague. Throughout this period, it saw the death of Vlad and Isabella, the beheading of Konrad von Carstein and the gutting of Manfred von Carstein at Hel Fenn from the keen edge of Orc Hewer, Runefang of the Grand Duke of Stirland, Martin von Kristallbach.

When the dead had finally settled, and remained firmly in the ground, the Empire was finally able to breath. Stirland quickly moved to annex the lawless lands of Sylvania, as von Kristallbach appoints his loyal advisor and comrade, Vorster Schlagener, to oversee the province of Sylvania. Vorster takes on the name Count Vorster von Essen. Five years later, he is found ritually slain in the Forslak Woods, now known as Grim Woods on. As a result of this, the Raven Knights of Morr begin a 12 year crusade in Sylvania, rooting out followers of the dead von Carsteins. They are assisted by other knightly orders such as the Fiery Heart. They are extremely effective at purging the land, although innocents caught in their wake suffer just as much.

By the end of it all, the Grand Duke of Stirland wishes to have nothing to do with Sylvania, and is content to letting it govern by itself through the successor of Vorster’s eldest son and heir.

The Great War – 2301 IC

A massive invasion from the far north spills into the lands of the south, led by Asavur Kul. United behind him are the many Norscan tribes, and ever-watching his progress, are the dark gods. The Empire, already in disarray from internal pretender conflicts, struggles to respond. One man however begins to gradually unite the Empire under one hammer; Magnus the Pious.

Sylvania, long-forgotten and eager to prove itself, summons a poorly equipped army and heads north for Kislev. Led by a von Essen, the Sylvanians intend to relieve the siege at the city of Kislev by forces of Chaos.

That didn’t go well.

They arrived a week earlier than Magnus’s forces, and were quickly decimated to a man. With the arrival of the Forces of Order, Magnus the Pious led the charge into the flanks of the Forces of Chaos outside the gates of Kislev. It was said that during this titanic clash of forces, Magnus fought Asavar Kul. Smiting his foe to the ground, Kul was said to have removed his helmet, and in conceding defeat, announced that he failed his gods. Magnus, in response, was said to have shouted, “It was your gods who failed you. My god is always with me.” Magnus delivered the final blow that ended Kul’s dark reign.

The Northmen scattered, as the forces of Chaos fled back to the north. The Empire was once again, left reeling from a period that offered little respite. Yet despite its suffering, the Empire was never more united than it was now. Magnus the Pious became the Emperor, and his legacy is still felt presently. Be it the Colleges of Magic or the founding principles of the Templars. While the rest of the Empire flourished under his rule, Sylvania remained hidden beyond the woods, a harsh land of marsh, swamps and infertile fields with a dark history that no one wanted to revisit.

Their contribution and albeit miscalculated sacrifice in the Great War largely went unnoticed. After this, it could be said that Sylvania truly became the backwater of the Empire. The Grand Duke of Stirland Sigmund von Krieglitz elects to have his son-in-law oversee the province of Stirland. Frederick Schliemann becomes Frederick von Walden, and houses his estate in Waldenhof, the capital of Sylvania.

Sylvanian History – Predating The Fracture, 2340-2400

Frederick von Walden had married Adelina von Krieglitz, the young troubled daughter of Sigmund. It was long whispered at court that Sigmund had no love for his son-in-law, and conspired to get rid of his presence at court by giving him reign over the cursed province of Sylvania. This is simply not true. It was his daughter who gave Sigmund many sleepless nights. Considered to be quite mad, Adelina had a promiscuous reputation at court, and her father had hoped that marrying her off to a stern yet somewhat naïve noble vassal of his would have her settle down. It only encouraged her madness to grow, and soon his court was filled with stories about the young harlet frolicking through his court, often lacking any decency or sense of reason.

The von Walden’s ruled over the province of Sylvania. It was not an effective rule. The young nobles did not connect well with the common Sylvanian. Being secluded in their estate in Waldenhof, they ruled as outsiders in a land that they barely understood. This did not endear them to the Sylvanian lesser nobles who chafed under the restrictive and at times suffocating taxes set forth by Count von Walden, who in turn had to pay his share to the Grand Duke of Stirland – his father-in-law. Sylvania was after all annexed by Stirland but given special status regarding governing the province.

Count von Walden’s rule was short lived. Merely four years later since becoming the Count of Sylvania, he was killed in a brutal fashion. Servants found the Count in his bed chamber under the bloodied sheets of his linen. His eyes had been plucked out and his throat was slit. His wife was found on the balcony overlooking the Walden gardens, her night gown drenched in blood as she stared out across the gardens vacantly. She never admitted to killing her husband, perhaps her descent into madness denying her such guilt – words were not needed, for her servants had already started to wag their tongues about the horror they witnessed, and the cold demeanor of the Countess. “The Red Countess” became synonymous with her on account of the stories that were told. Other titles were less welcome, “The Mad Harlot” was one such unflattering whisper in taverns and such. The Grand Duke of Stirland paid little attention to the rumors, or the untimely demise of his son-in-law; all he was concerned was the flow of taxes, and as long as they continued to line his pockets, he had no reason to question the rule of his daughter.

Until the flow of taxes ceased.

The so-called Red Countess of Sylvania had decided one day to implement a ‘finger tax’ that was exactly as it sounded. A copper penny for each finger. Noble lords and ladies were required to pay a shilling for each finger. Not long after that, the toe tax became a thing. The Countess would ‘reward’ those who protested to these taxes; by ordering a ‘tax-cut’, except the tax-cut came in the form of their fingers and toes being severed. It wasn’t long until the Sylvanians had enough of the Red Countess and her madness. The von Rumsfelds were the first to raise their banners in rebellion. Followed by the ancient and proud von Wellmitz of Templehof. Soon all of Sylvania was rebelling against the Red Countess, who had no allies except that of her father to count upon.

The finger and toe tax had united Sylvania against what they saw as foreign rulers exacting their toll upon an already poor and infertile land. The tax disputes quickly evolved into a rebellion for independence from Stirland. The Grand Duke of Stirland Sigmund von Krieglitz was slow to respond. Out of touch with just how far his daughter had descended into madness and her capabilities in Sylvania, by the time he had received the news of his daughter’s death, he was only just mustering his forces. Countess Adelina von Walden was tossed from her balcony into the gardens below. The fall did not kill her; bloodied and broken, she crawled her way towards the garden entrance, only for the mob to catch up to her. They were not kind as they unleashed their rage upon the helpless Countess.

When von Krieglitz heard what fate had befallen his daughter, he was incensed. With his forces ready to march upon Sylvania a short time later, Sigmund led a four thousand strong army into the heart of Sylvania. He made the grave mistake of underestimating just how much of Sylvania had rose up in rebellion. Sigmund also didn’t know Sylvania at all. Reliant on out of date maps, the Grand Count spent his days ignoring Sylvania as best as he could, letting his daughter and son-in-law rule in ignorance, as long as they paid their due to Stirland.

Duke Sigmund had the soldiers and equipment, but little else. As he journeyed towards Waldenhof, his forces were slowly picked off. Encountering a far more hostile environment than he had anticipated, Sigmund marched on when the wiser action would have been to withdraw. Two months since he entered Sylvania, the Grand Duke found himself facing the combined forces of von Rumsfeld and von Wellmitz along with forces from Swartzhafen. These families were notorious rivals, but they had united together to repel what they saw as an invading foreign force. Despite their slight numerical advantage over Sigmund’s forces who had been deprecated by attrition and other factors, the Duke put up a remarkable fight. Wielding the Runefang Orc Hewer, he killed Baron Petar von Rumsfeld and sought to do the same to Dumitru von Welmitz if it wasn’t for the fact that Welmitz refused to face the Duke, opting to keeping his distance. The exact circumstances of the battle is muddied by different historical accounts, but it was said that Grand Duke Sigmund was shot in the shoulder with a bolt from afar while he was mounted on his steed. Still alive, he turned his steed and retreated with his forces, being pursued all the way to the border. It wasn’t until at camp when the danger of pursuit had settled, that his wound was finally looked at. He already took measures to remove the bolt himself, and shrugged off earlier attempts to have his wound taken care of. Once his injury was inspected however, it became a matter of urgency to amputate his arm. He did not survive the amputation, having died on the table as a barber-surgeon sawed his arm off. His body was brought back to Stirland along with Orc Hewer.

His titles passed to his only son and heir, Dietmund. Relatively young, inexperienced with war and pressured by the Emperor as well as those within his own court acting as advisors, Dietmund offered conciliatory talks with Sylvanian nobles.

These talks were largely overseen by Dietmund’s advisors along with a Sigmarite Lector present to oversee the talks due to some ‘religious concerns’ they had. One of Dietmund’s first demands was the return of his sister’s body. This however was never met, as the Countess’s body was believed lost; this unsettled Dietmund and caused him to excuse himself from further discussions, cursing the Sylvanian nobles present as “pauper bandits”. In his absence, his appointed advisors spoke on his behalf. The talks lasted nearly a year until an agreement was reached. Stirland would cede Sylvania. In exchange for their independence, each of the noble houses of Sylvania would pay a tribute duty towards Stirland. Stirland would regard Sylvania as a protectorate and come to its defense as long as the tribute continued to be paid.

Sylvania achieved its independence from Stirland, albeit with some conditions attached. Little did the province know that its troubles were only just starting.

Sylvanian History – Independence Comes With A Price, 2410-2433

It didn’t take long for the various noble families to bicker amongst themselves. Obscure families with noble heritage dating back to the reign of the von Draks were coming out of the woodwork in an attempt to claim the valuable Waldenhof estate by lineage alone. Harsh words turned into swords being drawn; Sylvanian families who have held onto ancient rivalries found themselves marching to war, a prospect that was once held at bay by Stirland.

Stirland did not stay completely neutral, often playing favorites to their advantage, although ever careful to avoid being dragged into another conflict. The peasantry came to calling this period the ‘Estate Wars’, a rather banal yet accurate summary of the conflicts.

The most influential players in this conflict were:

• von Stolpe – The von Stolpe family owns the Leicheburg estates, and had the strongest claim to the Waldenhof by their own account based on a marriage to Vorster von Essen’s son to a cousin of theirs. Their claim was disputed by Catharina von Essen, the last living descendant of Vorster von Essen, who recalls no such marriage taking place.
• von Essen – Catharina von Essen’s family may have ancient ties to Stirland and Ostermark but she has no love for her ancestral home of Stirland on account of the still recent turmoil left in the wake of the Red Countess. Possessing a modest estate at Eisigfurt through her matrilineal marriage with Baron Meitner, and enjoying positive influence with the peasantry of Waldenhof on account of her charitable and charismatic nature, she is perhaps the strongest claim to the estate, but lacks the forces to back up her claim.
• von Bundebad – Bundebad made a claim upon Templehof based on historical records that had merit, and were long in dispute with the von Wellmitz of Templehof. Baron Bundebad enjoyed some minor influence over the Waldenhof estate due to his forces occupying Regakhof, a town under the jurisdiction of Waldenhof, which was occupied under his rule since the time of the Red Countess’s death. His possession of the estate and meagre garrison at Castle Regale made him a target by those chasing claims. Bundebad was not interested in the Waldenhof disputes, but Templehof interested him. Catharina von Essen offered an alliance with Bundebad, and one that would bear fruit later.
• von Wellmitz – Templehof may have been poor, possessing few qualities of note with exception to Castle Templehof, but it was a well positioned estate of importance, strategically located on the east side of the Hel river at the edge of Hunger Wood, guarding the passageways into central Sylvania and not far from the Stirland river town of Siegfriedhof, where the Raven Knights of Morr are located. The Wellmitz were eying the settlement of Vanhaldenhof, yet lacked any claims to it. It wouldn’t prevent them making an attempt, and conflict between the two quickly broke out, ushering in the first reported fighting to take place since the estate disputes began.

Sylvania quickly fractured into war over the next few years, with minor nobles squabbling over land and resources. A peasant revolt in the year 2423 in the southern half of Sylvania saw the von Bundebad lose Nachehafen, turning it into a free town that has not been claimed back since.

By the end of it all, Sylvania was fractured into petty fiefdoms. By the time the conflict ended, majority of the disputes were still outstanding, claims remaining unsettled. Yet the fighting had cost Sylvania much blood, and there were those who just wanted the fighting to cease. It was around this time towards the year 2430 that a spate of ritual killings throughout eastern Sylvania took its toll on the feudal conflict as fear started to grip the land; not fear from those responsible in the grisly murders, but the notion that the Raven Knights of Morr may once again commit to a long crusade, and there are some old noble families who still remember the tell-tale horrors of such a crusade.

At the end of the Estate Wars, Sylvania was not a whole province. The valued Waldenhof estate settled in the hands of Catharina von Essen, and not due to the aid of the von Bundebads. Catharina acquired the ownership of two mines, an iron deposit to the south of her estate and a gold mine to the north of Essen, Ostermark, which she acquired through the use of beguile and familial ties. Bolstered by her new wealth, she took Waldenhof by force utilizing a Kislevian mercenary company. Much of her wealth was dried up trying to keep hold of her claim by the end of the conflicts. She soon remarried, giving her hand to Grigori Shvanov, the Kislevian who headed a mercenary company that she hired. Catharina gave rise to rumors that her wealth had dried up, and in order to defend her claim, she had to “open her legs”. The maturing Countess would later give birth to twins, but died in childbirth.

With the North-East of Sylvania under the control of the Shvanov line, formerly von Essen, as the other rival fiefdoms refused to acknowledge the children of Catharina as von Essen lineage, the rest of Sylvania wasn’t looking pretty. Western Sylvania became solidified under the rule of an old family. The von Wellmitz family line was rooted out from the town of Templehof by an old legacy. Baron Siegfried von Helsner, possessing an ancient lineage dating back to the time of the Vampire Wars. His family had been persecuted by the Wellmitz line and it appears that he saw his moment and struck. The Wellmitz fled into the Hunger Wood, and none have been seen since. Baron Helsner has laid claim to Templehof, and the Castle nearby serves as his holding estate. He would later claim Vanhaldenhof, something that the Wellmitz had sought but failed to achieve. Most of Western Sylvania is under his control, and it is said his rule is not kind.

Southern and Eastern Sylvania remains disputed in several areas, and conflict still sporadically occurs there. This gave rise to it being known as ‘Barons Land’ on account of all the various self-claimed barons that popped up during the conflict, some of which included pauper barons. The von Bundebad line went extinct, giving rise to several new families rising to lay claim to various estates: The Barbulescu line, the Dimir-Belaru lineage, the Dragomir pauper barons, the Barbaroy estates and the Monheimer family.

Although no one would lay claim to the cursed Drakenhof estates.

Sylvania – As It Stands

The last of the Vampire Counts was Mannfred von Carstein, and he had been killed in Hel Fenn, Sylvania around the year 2145. His legacy continues to haunt Drakenhof Castle and the nearby surrounding lands. Today, Drakenhof Castle is nestled amidst the backdrop of the Drakenhohenzug mountains, permeated by an eerie mist that obscures much of the castle from prying eyes. You will be hard pressed to find any maps pertaining to its location, as the cartographers refused to survey that area, amongst those who wish to forget that the place exists at all. That secret lies with the Raven Knights of Morr, who every 5 years or so, take the journey to Drakenhof to perform purging rituals. Even the village of Drakenhof often lies forgotten. Those who thread within its borders will find the residents tight lipped about the shadow of Drakenhof that lingers over their town.

Those journeying into Sylvania must adhere that the province remains politically sensitive. Stirlanders are often treated with ill-will towards them, although one could say foreigners in general are seen as malcontents up to no good in Sylvania. The north-east of Sylvania, where the Waldenhof estates lie are perhaps the most hospitable for those visiting the province. Although one would do well to avoid Hel Fenn, the Dead Wood and many such areas that harbor dark stories.

Politically speaking, only a few of the fiefdoms of Sylvania pay a ‘tribute’ to Stirland in the form of a protectorate duty, with exception to Shvanov of Waldenhof, who refuse to pay. Stirland has shown that it isn’t interested in chasing up unpaid ‘tributes’ and it may be only a matter of time before the tributary arrangement is gone altogether. Some also pay a tithe to encourage religious investment in temples, something that Sylvania is lacking as its people cry out for salvation, as many of the temples lay in ruins, disrepair or forgotten during Sylvania’s neglected years. Taal and Rhya are the primarily worshipped of the gods in Sylvania, with a darker aspect of Rhya called Ghuria being worshipped in some parts of southern Sylvania.

As a whole, while some parts of Sylvania may be volatile, yet northern Sylvania holds potential for flourishment. It is also considered a land of opportunity. Sylvania isn’t regulated by imperial laws or edicts, as the Empire has no hold over the renegade province, giving many freedoms. Untapped resources remain in the province, from hillside mines to forgotten tombs bursting with untold riches.

As for vampires, well. Sylvania’s dark history concerning the von Carsteins lays forgotten amidst the hundred years of neglect and conflict, from the Red Countess, to the time of the Great War by the Norscan tribes, to the Estate Wars. Still, the stories remain in some form. The von Carstein name is only whispered in the darkest corners of Sylvania, where perhaps ancient dark sects remain that purport to follow the old Sylvanian ways.

And so that is the end of my write up on Sylvania. I wanted to steer Sylvania in a direction that would suit my game, turning it into a whole province to a fractured realm filled with squabbling nobles and petty disputes, and old lineages that I can have fun with.