Writing a short-story for my mordheim warband, not very good, or long, but some people might enjoy it when it's finished, I will just post in now to inspire me to finish it.
Conrad von Horstmann sat in the corner of the local pub tent, sliding his drink back and forth on the table of his private booth nervously. His strange clothes marked him out from the locals, he wore a large velvet hat, with a magnificent plume of feathers sticking high above his head, and he wore a long light blue jacket, with a sash hanging loosely around his body, a long polished saber rested in his lap. He was anxious, tense, and the obnoxious locals weren't helping, he was at least a week travel away from his home Marienburg, though he was glad. Conrad was a lesser noble, who would not inherit enough crowns to fuel his ambitions. Though, if his plan worked, he would be even wealthier than Siegfried, his eldest brother.
"Are you Conrad von Horstmann?" asked an older man, a local from the looks of it, he figured he was here for the same reason he was. As Conrad looked up he noticed the stranger was tall, with broad shoulders leading down into muscular arms, someone he obviously didn't want to mess with. He wore a long weathered cloak, with high boots of leather and a heavy jacket. Now that he was looking up he noticed something that made him infinitely more important, he had friends. All of them wearing similar clothes, Middenheimers from the looks of it, this is who he was waiting for. He hadn't even seen them come in.
"Sit" he said, gesturing with his hand, mustering as much friendliness as he could into his voice. The tall one sat down, the others didn't seem to move a muscle, and they simply stared at Conrad unnervingly. "So, I presume you are who I contacted."
He made a big smile, showing his surprisingly white teeth and nodded, "Osric Eimaringen, it's a pleasure" he seemed well spoken for a Middenheimer, mused Conrad. "I understand you need an escort into the city?" asked Osric, eyeing the stacks of luggage behind Conrad. Though he wasn't talking about any city, he was talking about Mordheim, the City of The Damned. A twin tailed comet smashed into the city, bringing with it wyrdstone, a strange rock that he saw no value in, but if he could sell it for half of what he has heard, he will be rich indeed. Though along with wyrdstone, came all matters of denizens of the old world, searching and scavenging the ruined city.
"Yes, I can see you and your men will be more than up to the task" said Conrad, as he nodded to a man in another makeshift private booth. The man quickly chugged the little remnants of what was left in his glass and approached them. "This is my bodyguard, Lamprecht Schiller." He knew he had to travel without many people, though it felt lonely with just the quiet Lampercht at his side, he had known him all his life, but he knew he had to travel incognito for none of his siblings to find out about his plan.
"It seems you are cleverer than I first expected, maybe you will last a week after all." said Osric, in a joking tone, "but in all seriousness, what have you brought with you?" he gestured to the luggage behind Conrad.
"Don't worry, my assistant here Schiller will carry it-" started Conrad.
"No, he won't, you will be getting rid of it" Cut off Osric.
"Well I am the one that is paying you, either you-" began Conrad again.
"You don't have to come, we could just go and forge our own wealth out there, either you travel lightly, or you don't come, it's as simple as that, Eric, Lukas, search through the nice man's bags and sell what he doesn't need, and-"
"No, this is an outrage!" Conrad said in an increasingly frustrated tone. "These are my belonging, I will deal with them."
"Fine, though if we find anything at all that you don't need, we will dump it in the first stream we find, you understand?" asked Osric "The City of The Damned is a dangerous place, and if we lose you, we lose coin, if you carry too much, you're dead weight."
"What do you have to defend yourself with, other than that toy saber?" mocked Osric.
Conrad reached into a deep pocket of his coat and revealed a pistol, which had apparently surprised the Middleheimers, "This" he said plainly. Though in truth, he had two rifles in one of his bags, he thought about how he used to hunt game, enjoying life, but no, he needed these crowns, he didn’t care.
“Alright, that will do, we won’t be coming back here anytime soon, so get ready, or drink all night it’s all the same to me, we will be here to pick you up at sunrise.” Announced Osric, as he was getting ready to leave, he stood up and turned to Schiller “please take care of the good Conrad won’t you?” sarcastically, then he walked out the door, his boots rhythmically beating against the floor boards as Conrad sunk into his seat.
“Get a coach, send these back to our estate” said Conrad, pointing at all but two of the bags. “Oh, and get me another drink.”
* * * * *
They weren’t a second late, by the time the sun had risen, they had already barged in the tent, banging sheathed weapons against their metal shin guards. Osric stood in the center, surveying them Conrad and Schiller as they awoke.
“Good morning gentlemen, my men and I will be waiting at the edge of camp, Eric will stay here to help you prepare” he leaned in close to Eric and said “Bring them to us in ten minutes.”
All of the Middleheimers left the tent, except Eric, he seemed rather meek now that Osric and the others left. He was pale, and gaunt, he had high cheekbones. His black hair reached down to his shoulders, and the back was tied in a high top-knot.
“So, you guys seem pretty fond of Osric” said Conrad casually. “He seems like all work and no play to me.”
“Osric has saved all of our lives on more than one occasion, don’t judge him so quickly” he said. He rolled up one sleeve and jagged tooth marks lined from his wrist to his shoulder, “He wrestled with a chaos beast and saved this arm, you’ve heard of chaos beasts right?” asked Eric, without waiting for a response “This one was just a plain old lump of flesh with teeth sprouting in bunches, they were always writhing, even when we killed it.” He rolled his sleeve down and spit, he brushed back his bangs to reveal a deep rigid scar. “A beastman had his axe raised, ready to deliver the finishing blow on me, he blocked it by placing his left forearm in front of the haft, he broke his arm, it almost came clean off. So next time you insult Osric, do it to his face” Eric spit again and sat their arms folded. Conrad didn’t know who was worse, Osric or his lackeys.
* * * * *
Conrad emerged out of the tent, the fresh winter air was stale and cold, and there were scores of tents lined up in rows. The narrow pathways were littered with trash and unconscious civilians, a few other groups were actually getting ready to depart which was surprising because most were staying in camp until spring. After a few minutes they saw Osric and the others. They were sitting on the side of the road on a fallen road, while Osric and another Middleheimer were chatting with a man in a wagon. When Conrad got there, Osric approached him.
“We’re negotiating a ride into Mordheim; it will cut the time by three-quarters of a day.” Remarked Osric “So, the last trip of your life will be shorter” said Osric with a wide grin.
“Wonderful, I don’t suppose he has room for all twelve of us in that little wagon do you?” asked Conrad.
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re going to be traveling in the back with Eric and Schiller, the rest of us are going by foot” said Osric
“But I thought you said we would be able to cut the time” said Conrad with a strange look on his face.
“Of course we are, you don’t think you could keep up with us do you?” asked Osric rhetorically. He was right though, with only three ten minutes stop, they reached the city in a quarter of a day. The ride was horrid, the three of them were piled in a small six foot by six foot area. Schiller and Conrad were playing cards, and they offered Eric to play, though he denied. The second he got out of the wagon, he sighed heavily and stretched out. They were there, he looked up and was mesmerized by the enormous walls, they were at the west entrance of Mordheim. The wagon owner sped off just as quickly as he had arrived. Then without so much as a word, they all entered the damned city, they all knew, this might be there last few steps.
* * * * *
Conrad shuddered once he was inside the grand walls; the façade of a massive fortress city was ended once they crept inside. Osric was in front, in full battle gear, each of the Middleheimers had a bow and quiver, a buckler, a short sword, and a spear. They all wore metal shin guards, pauldrons, and a chain shirt. They crept silently about; he could only occasionally hear the clank of metal rings clattering against each other or the crunch of debris underfoot. He prayed he wouldn’t have to fight in these conditions, the cramped roads and broken buildings, they were going towards the inside of the city, all the outskirts have already been plundered to the point that no wyrdstone could be found.
“So, how far in are the monsters and daemons I always hear stories about?” asked Conrad, almost on cue a horn let out a deafening bellow. A man with the head of a goat stepped out into the middle of the road, they had been seen. He raised his claw and gestured to a building to the party’s right. A group of beast folk pounded down the stairs. Osric dived left against the wall of a building and rose his spear ready, the Middleheimers followed suit with spears or bows readied. It was barely a fight; Eric had managed to reach the goat man in the road, and was holding him off. The Middleheimers systematically slaughtered the beast men that came out of the door. Conrad’s gun barked and a beastman toppled over, lifeless. Another two fell two precise arrows in their head. Osric lanced one through the knee as it approached, it weakly raised its axe and before it could swing the spear cracked against its skull, it was dead before it could hit the ground. Eric had managed to get behind the goat man as his sword found its place in its back. It let out a cry and cracked its knotted club against Eric’s leg. He screamed but managed to regain his composure as the beastman swung again. He skittishly jumped over the low swung club as he feinted for the beastman’s thigh, but at the last second brought it up and rolled away, leaving the sword jammed in the goat mans chest as it screamed its last scream. The last two beastmen were brought down by Schiller’s rifle and a thrown spear. Now that Conrad could hear himself think, he saw that the goat men were roughly eight feet tall, with hooves the size of fists they also had fur covering their entire body. They were clad in dirty studded leather, the studs rusting and falling out, gnarled fists clenched warped axe handles and knotted clubs. Axes and swords rusted and chipped lay near the scattered remains. Ram horns spiraling out of their crowns.
"Are those the beasts you meant? Plenty of 'em around this area, Osric thinks they are hoarding a gold mine of wyrdstone." Lukas whispered to Conrad, as the group was forming up again.
"Yeah, though I thought they were outside of Mordheim."
