In Warhammer Fantasy as my ERP Character

90

Snow falls on Altdorf. Blanketing the roofs and roads white and freezing the edges of river Reik. Though massive trade ships from Marienburg still sailed and broke the ice forming in the middle of the river. The last wave of trade ships to deliver shipment to Taalagad port city in Talabecland and finally to Bechafen in Ostermark (directly south of Kislev). The sun setting soon in the west, the orange sky fades into a sickly green as Morrsleib can be seen in full even when the sun is yet to set.

Within a college, not just a college but also a workshop. Not that gaudy, overly decorated and overly tall college like the Celestial and Bright college. But a fully functional college workshop where every space is fully utilized, either for teaching, mass producing some alchemical reagents, and producing enchanted artifacts. This is the Gold College. Within this college is a wizard. Not just a wizard but the Supreme Patriarch Balthazar Gelt.

Bezalhtag, Ulriczeit 31 2519 (11/31/2519). 

The Supreme Patriarch started to write in his letter. A fully functional pen with ink cartridge in his gloved hands. But he immediately stops. Again he saw the report delivered by an owl. Not just any owl but a facsimile of one. A mechanical owl powered by the gold magic, covered with a layer of replicated skin and feathers made by life magic, and also enchanted by shadow magic to make it harder to detect. Normally it will be easy to detect a work of magic due to the relative concentration of magic in the air, but with the rise of the world’s magic, this owl will be almost practically invisible

What is written is by no means good. He did not believe the common superstition that bad omen and news will follow when Morrslieb is in full moon. But judging by how many times these things happen he starts to wonder if he should start expecting bad news every time Morrslieb is in full moon. He had sent a trusted gold wizard following that newly made wizard company. At first he sent him to get the latest update on the Count of Nordland, Theoderic Gausser. He knows Gausser holds a grudge on him after he turns the count’s gold to worthless lead on account of the Count planning a civil war. But not only that is not the center of the report, it's fully sidelined.

He read the report again. After the leading Captain Bertrand switched the company’s destination from Drakwald to the north near the border of Laurelorn in account for the wizards sensing an unnatural flow of magic, the wizard sent out the owl to scout ahead. Balthazar then plucks the eye from the owl, it is a small scrying orb that can be linked to a bigger scrying orb. He links the magic between the owl’s eyes to his own artifice to confirm what’s written next. A plain waystone. Just a plain monolithic stone. Too plain. Not the gaudily and perfectly carved old elven waystone, the one humans tried to replicate, or even the defaced and defiled waystone that chaos or other dark forces usually have. But what is important is the line of growing warp stones that stretches over into the forest. Growing quick enough to be visible to the naked eye. Then of course the huge golden beastmen that marches into the forest. If an average human height is the shoulder of one beastmen, then these beastmen are almost twice taller than a normal human. From the owl’s eyes, he can also see the commanding captain's frustration as he discusses this with the witch hunter put into the company to keep the wizards being orderly and the wizard sent as the magic college’s representative.

Then he shuffled into another report. This comes from his contact in Marienburg. Just two days ago, few thousand elves from Laurelorn evacuate into Ulthuan. If what he thought from these two reports is true then he must warn the Emperor. He then continued to write, advising the Emperor to prepare for an army and also notify other Counts. Another beastmen warherd has appeared. He knows it is not long after their victory against the beastmen at Six Peaks, but it seems like another has already arrived to replace them.

Just as he wrote, the door to his office barged open. A Gold wizard that has mutated so much due to the recent rise of magic, his body completely veiled like a leper. The Gold wizard movement is mechanical like a clockwork, each limb moves one at a time with a visible pause. Stomping the floor as he walks, each step like clanging metal even when he wears no boots. In a mechanical bow the wizard delivers a letter to the Supreme Patriarch who accepts it and dismisses him. Only when the gold wizard left does Gelt inspect the letter. Already he is expecting another bad news.

But this letter is from Queen Marissith herself. Was it a plea for help? Will she finally share the secret of cold forging? He reigns his excitement as he opens the envelope. There are more important things, if cold forging is shared that will be a nice bonus. But what’s important is that the craft should never go extinct under the beastmen. He read the letter. Then he reread it again to confirm what he read. And again but still the content of the letter does not change. To simply put, the content of the letter is

“Absolutely ridiculous.” is what the letter is about. It essentially said that the Elves of Laurelorn are now allied or working along with the Golden Horde. Along it is a set of demands, some basic spells and optional spells from the gold magic, then some books on how to make gunpowder and guns. In exchange, the Gold College will get a steady supply of warp stones and another thing that the Golden Horde invented. He puts down the letter and thinks. The letter’s subtext basically said that Laurelorn has capitulated to the Golden Horde and now the beastmen are using them as a spokesperson and in essence, it is an offer for a secret alliance between him and whoever leading the Golden Horde. Balthazar Gelt thinks in silence. He is not averse in making secret deals and alliances, the problem is if the risk is worth it. Regardless, he already knows what to do. He put away his letter, picked another empty paper and started writing again.

—

Lightning flashes and thunder strikes as a huge wave slam the bow of dark elven Black Ark, The Terror of the Seas. The fortress sized black ship weather the storm as it sails north after picking off the unlucky trade ships gambling their entire fortune on the delivering trade in winter. Most of their fortune now lies within the belly of the Black Ark and the ship’s crew turned into slaves. 

Dread Captain Vaulvilkaun always loves to raid the Empire’s northern shore in winter. The human’s ships slowed by the ice and patrol fleet will almost always be late to arrive. Those that manage to catch up will bring challenges to his men as raiding helpless vessels are boring. There are occasional challenges from northern raiders too so that’s a bonus. Northern slaves are always in demand for their fury in the fighting pits. Then, he also heard a nice song from a little bird. That thousand of elves from Laurelorn will soon depart from Marienburg to Ulthuan. No doubt there will be plenty of escorts but should he succeed, the glory he will receive when he returns to Naggarond will be second to none. All he needs to do now is wait.

The captain sat on his throne and watched the fight within the pit below his throne. The fights are getting boring, no new slaves that can properly fight within the pit have been caught so far. He wished for something exciting to happen. And it would seem his wish is granted as the door on the far side of the hall across the pit opens. Lightning flashes as a man steps inside. Then Vaulvilkaun clicks his tongue in disappointment as what enters is a white haired man with a finely trimmed white beard, wearing a robe made of sheepskin. Did his men play around and let one of the slave cages unlocked to see what the slave will do.

Regardless, the man looked at the dread captain and his eyes lit up. He walks confidently from the right side of the pit’s spectator’s seat towards him. A dark elven corsair that the man passed looks at the captain for permission to shoot or if he wants to play with the man first. Vaulvilkaun waved the corsair away, he hoped the man could entertain him at least. Before killing him himself.

“Finally, I found a ship. This is a fine ship you have.” The man spoke softly as his eyes wandered around. Even the fight within the pit below has stopped as someone is audacious enough to not cower. The man then arrives in front of the dread captain’s throne.

“Would you mind taking me to the shore, young man?” he then said softly, which silenced the entire hall even more. A silence. Then two. Vaulvilkaun finally laughed at the man for his request. Though no other dark elves laugh along. A precedent has been made to those that laugh along with the dread captain when he enjoys something.

“You,” the captain wagged his finger, “You are quite the brave one.”

“Well thank you. My mother certainly said the same, which usually vexes her with my antics.” The man softly said with a grin.

“And why do you need me to take you to the shore?” The captain decides to play along.

“Well, walking to shore is a pain and with all the waves around pushing me up and down is fun only for a short while.” This nonsense however, does not please the captain. Well, at least he did get a laugh.

The captain stands and draws his curved blade.

“Is that a no?” The man asks again with a soft voice.

“Yes, this is a no.” The Captain smirks

“Pity.” The man said with a smile before the Captain swung and he dropped his blade. The captain clawed on his own throat choking. Then seawater overflows from his mouth, then from his eyes, his nose, then ears. The only sound in the hall is the choking and gurgling sound as the Dread Captain of the Terror of the Seas as he falls and dies from drowning.

“Who’s the next captain after him?” The man in sheep clothing asks again to everyone within the hall. His voice never raised. The corsairs all have their weapon aimed at him.

“Certainly not all of you.” He said and all the corsairs that aimed their weapon choked and drowned just like the captain.

“Well, I’ll be the captain then.” He patted his sheepskin robe and sat on the throne. His legs playfully kicked up and down as he looked around and found a dark elven corsair still standing still in fear. No weapon on her.

“You there, where’s your weapon?”

“I have none sir. It was a punishment.” She tries to answer without stuttering

“Ah. then you are a lucky one.” the man grins again.

“Tell the other crew to sail this ship to shore. If there are any objects, just tell them to go here.” The female corsair nods and the man claps his hand in satisfaction.

“Who is the name of our new captain when I speak to them sir?” She dares to ask

“Me? I’m Manann. God of the Sea. Now hurry up, I have a reunion to catch up.”

(In Warhammer Fantasy, Each week is 8 days and each month is 33 days)