The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Day of the Comet

Wellentag 17th Ulriczeit 2522

Talabheim is thrumming with talk of what happened this day. The clash of the great Temple of Sigmar with the True Church upstarts. The battle between the two orders, heretics and established faith. The battle that took place. 

I am unsure of what to make of what my eyes seen. Do I trust and what do I make of it all?

We made our way quickly to the Temple this morning to offer our services as protection. We were given clean white tabards and vestments to mark us as part of the main train, between the Templars and the common priests at the back. 

After following the traditional pilgrim trail we neared the end - the square in front of the temple itself. The high priest walked at the head of the ceremonial train and up to the lectern on the main steps. He was followed by the censor carriers who had been chanting prayers from the Book of Sigmar throughout the walk. The Templars formed a protective circle between the high priest and the rest of the audience, formality and practicality in one, a space left clear for those who would come forward for his blessings. The City Watch were stretched and observant on every street, supported by the mercenaries brought in for the celebration two days ago.

As the high priest began his speech a commotion of shouting began far at the back of the crowd. 

“Lies! Lies! LIES!” Screamed a single voice tearing the air that had quietened for the blessing. 

I was shocked to see it was one from the other crowds of monks who had thrown the first interruption. More voices began to lift from the lower priests surrounding him. With little else to do we joined in voicing our support for the high priest and the Temple of Sigmar. Urging the high priest to continue and the dissidents to be quiet. Stefan began encouraging a crowd of city commoners to turn on the nay sayers. The others followed suit.

Soon the True Church heretics revealed themselves, the speaker from last night and an incredibly tall priest in robes beside him, both hooded. “Sigmar walks among us!” his voice boomed.

The high priest abandoned his traditional blessings to take up the clarion call of the true way of Sigmar to speak to the people of town and city, all gathered, to listen to the words of truth not treason.  With the rousing of the crowd, and discord rising all around, the holy words were in danger of being drowned by the rabble. Commoners tongue and heretical denouncements. “Chaos I say! Heretic! Unnatural!” Stefan continued to appeal to the better sense of the people. All voices battled in the bright cold air until the hooded speaker of the True Church threw his hood back, “See! See Sigmar and know him!”

At that the tall hooded priest standing by his side dropped his hood to reveal the very embodiment of the spirit of Sigmar. He stood in breathing life for what every description, depiction and statue of Sigmar had ever shown - a head taller than anyone else, muscular and strong with burnished shining gold hair, wielding the hammer Ghal-Maraz, Skull-Splitter. A god among us.

The wind of favor stilled to change, we only had a moment to draw it our way again.

“He looks like he’s wearing makeup! He’s using hair dye! Liar! Liar!” Stefan took the pause to turn to the crowd. "That's just a boy!"

In the sudden break I heard Grunnd pause and exhale. He swore. “Actually looks like him.” I was unsure what was going to happen. My dwarven friend was after all a true follower, he was Sigmar’s hammer, his servant Grunnd. Did Grunnd believe the heretics? Would he turn?

Stefan continued to harangue the crowd as did the others, Danielle the best of them.  Just as my attention was drawn by a taunt from Danielle,  Grunnd stepped forward and laid down a challenge. 

“If you are truly Sigmar then you cannot die. Prove it! Sigmar does not bleed. If you be him you have nothing to fear from me for I am Sigmar’s true servant.”

Stefan lent his support in blessing Grunnd while the crowd quietened to gaze at the events unfolding before them. The head speaker of the heretics whispered something quickly into the tall Sigmar-man’s ear. The tall ones face turned sour and angry, he pushed his companion aside, charging forward to meet with his challenger. Grunnd charged forward too at the speed that always takes me by surprise for such a short fellow. His hammer swung round in a thunderous blow just as the tall one leapt to avoid the weapons path, catching him on the leg at the last moment. The Sigmar man’s hammer swung back in retort hitting Grunnd in punishment for his troubles. 

I noticed as the tall man came to a rest he was not putting all his weight on the leg Stormbreaker had caught in a blow that would have smashed a lesser being’s leg. “You’re dead!” Growled Grunnd, furious at his lack of effect and his wounds received.

The crowd stood in silence, utterly captivated by the spectacle. 

The black mustachioed dwarf grinned and gritted his teeth for the next assault, I prayed to whoever would hear my plea that my friend come out alive. In another flurry he shot forward and smacked a mighty blow clean into the man’s frame, a blow that should have pulped the man into so much ground meat. I could not believe what I was witnessing.

“How’s it feeling Sigmar?” Grunnd swung round to ready for the retaliation. “Not enough of a hindrance to defeat you.” came the reply. “We’ll see.” Grunnd grinned another evil determined smile. 

The tall blonde opponent readied and charged forward for another blow, I closed my eyes, not wishing to see the aftermath. A gasp whispered round the crowd. I opened my eyes to see Sigmar barreling forward to a shaky stop and Grunnd still alive. The wounds were taking their toll, the man had missed!

Danielle let out a fishwives' cackle “I thought Sigmar never misses!” A nervous laugh chittered round those that heard her.

This looked like it could be it. Both dwarve and human turned and faced one another, hammers ready for the final blows. Charging across the muddy cobbles of the square they connected with each other in the same breath. I stared, eyes wide in disbelief, I had to see what would happen. Tears stung and my throat swelled with emotion, my face flushing. 

Both skidded past one another from the crunch of the hammer blows. Both staggering and in obvious pain, both looked in a bad way. 

Just as they turned, time slowed as my heart did, everyone was still. Only breathing could be heard.

Sigmar groaned in pain. All heard the whisper. 

“Well done Master Dwarf, you have undone me.” 

The mans’ skin began to glow as though a torch had lit him from within. His bones and the details of his insides shone through showing up what is normally unseen. Then without a sound he disappeared in a bright blinding flash of light leaving only dust on the breeze and motes in our eyes.

We had won.

Grunnd stood alive and held Stormbreaker aloft in salutation and victory. 

“A true champion of Sigmar!” The high priest’s voice could be heard easily now as not a word was spoken by any. The heretics were shocked to see their god defeated and began to retreat backwards into the crowd as they recovered their senses. 

Time began to move in the usual way once more and life returned to all watching. “Seize them!” roared Grunnd pointing to the moving figures. “Templars seize them!” motioned the high priest. 

As events swung into motion we helped Grunnd to the temple. Danielle brought Stefan’s bag of healing unguents. Soon the high priest joined us. “We’ve certainly had a memorable celebration today.” He nodded his head in part disbelief and part gratitude.

Grunnd did not seem to hear. He was grim through pain and thoughts. He looked up “...there’s no blood.” He looked at his faithful weapon, smoothing the business end. “He didn’t bleed.” He looked back up at us, serious.

Stefan shook his head, “Demons don’t bleed my friend.” 

“Neither do illusions.”, added Danielle.

The high priest nodded “Don’t worry Master Dwarf, I’m sure he was aided by heretical magic.”

“If he really was Sigmar you would be dead.” replied the priest of Morr. Danielle again added her tuppance worth “And if he really were Sigmar he wouldn’t have missed.” She smiled encouragingly. “Twenty by his right hand and twenty by his left.”, Stefan quoted the old story. “You are a brave man Grunnd, but no priest.”

At that Grunnd shook his head and grinned despite his now obvious discomfort, “Aye, but can you just say it was.”

I laughed and so did the others, Grunnd was ok. 

“Ego! All I seem to do is bandage you!” Danielle shook her head in mock displeasure and  wagged a finger at him. Stefan slapped him heartily on the back at seeing the dwarves good humour return, then immediately recoiled in horror at his actions “Shit! You’re stitches!” 

Grunnd growled.

All was as it should be.

As it is the ‘false Sigmar’ stands defeated and the Day of the Comet is drawing to a close. Talabheim is noisy with the news of today. Word has come from the Temple that the Templars have arrested many of the heretical brethren found fleeing from the square. We are told their confessions have lead back to the well known Van Garret house who had been trying to garner more power in the city, especially with the elector count at war in the North. 

The last we heard from the Sigmarites high priest is that the finances of the Van Garret’s will be seized to rectify all damages caused to the families affected by recent events. Templars were sent to aid troops pledged by the Van Keslar household who were marching to seize all persons and property of the Van Garret house. 

The word on the street is that Van Keslar himself has killed Van Garret in the fray. Politics and power continues the traditional jostle.

As I said before I am unsure what to make of what happened. I am also unsure what we are to do now as the trail on the Van Tanncred Sword has gone cold. Our informant being dead and his letter burnt to a cinder. I only hope that as winter howls in from the North we find we are not too late. The Empire's existence depends on us.

How strange to think that just over a month ago the only thing dependant on me was menial tasks in my family home back in Marienburg. Nothing of world shattering import. 

I wonder if I may get some respite from my father's search for me until the spring? One thousand gold crownes is a king's ransom however so it is highly unlikely. I hope we pick up the trail of the sword soon lest I find myself imprisoned again in the gilded cage by the sea. The Eisenjaeger's young wayward daughter returned safe and sound to her families' bosom. 

What would Verstohlen make of that? What would be worse? A cold pistol or my step mother's caress?

We shall see.

Mäuschen

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The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] True Church Heretics

Wellentag 17th Ulriczeit 2522

I am whole and well, though tired from our late night foray. We found ourselves deep beneath a warehouse in the docks for the meeting of the True Church of Sigmar's heretics. Behind a concealed entrance, and down a dank twisting narrow corridor, we entered a dark room with fire-filled braziers hanging from the ceiling and two sat on a raised platform. As my eyes adjusted to the flickering shadows and shapes it formed into a fairly large space with four strong pillars and two rows of pews for the heretical audience to sit upon. There were not too many people in attendance, a crowd of city-folk in the common-dress looking neither fervent nor frightened. They had come to hear what the ‘True Church’ had to say for themselves. An audience of forced participation. 

Hanging above the platform was the symbol of this order that we have found scrawled over doors and windows, down alleys and walls all through the city. The twin crossed hammers surmounted by the twin tailed comet. 

There were ‘brothers’ of the order in each of the corners and centers of the walls, another four on the platform as well, all armed and all with hoods drawn over their faces. The few torches held were doused, deepening the darkness. A door beneath the hammers and comet opened to reveal a man holding a great long handled warhammer, his head was unhooded. He walked forward and began to speak. 

We did listen to what he had to say for a while but it was not long before Grunnd had heard enough. He challenged their reasonings and ways, the thuggish tactics used on Talabheim’s people. He asked for proof that Sigmar had come again. 

The short end of last night’s tale is that none of the audience were killed and some of the priests were arrested when the witchhunters came to intervene. The main speaker managed to slip free into the night but we are sure we will meet him again today in the open daylight of the holy day. This ‘True Church’ of Sigmar are determined to make their stand today on the Day of the Comet. 


Let us see what this brings.

Mäuschen

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The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Dreams and Portents

Festag 16th Ulriczeit 2522

It is evening and we await the strike of the clock tower before leaving for the heretics meeting down by the wharf-side. Today has been a strange one of little progress as yet. Stefan surprised us with a visit this morn as we were finishing our first meal. He looked even paler than usual, with dark smudges beneath his tired heavy eyes. A dream had come to him in the night which had driven him into action. Images of heretics overrunning the Temple of Sigmar. This news reaffirmed Grunnd’s decision to seek guidance and assistance at the temple over what we had learned yesterday.

On arrival we found the temple busy in preparation for Talabheim’s great holy day tomorrow - the Day of the Comet. The day the comet struck this land is celebrated as the portent of Sigmar’s birth. People travel from miles around on pilgrimage. Though aware of the presence of heretics in the city the temple was only able to offer two witchhunters to assist in tonights meeting. They will not accompany us inside but wait in the shadows for our signal to help if need be. I only hope this information gathering exercise does not turn deadly. We need all our strength for the Day of the Comet if the heretics are indeed going to try overturn the Temple of Sigmar to their ways. 

I must go for now. Grunnd is readying to leave and so must I. May I be still be alive tomorrow to write the tale of what we find tonight.

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The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Sigmar Sees All

Angestag 15th Ulriczeit 2522

Fresh in from a day of woes and delights. I am still in a good mood though that probably has more to do with the 26 shillings I found myself receiving from the carelessly unguarded purses of Talabheim’s drunks. A small fortune, no where near what I gave up today in return for something great - friendship and a quality crossbow to protect my back. I hope I do not live to regret that gift.

It is late so I will try to make this brief. 

We discovered the sigil of the crossed hammers and comet is the mark of a group calling themselves the True Church of Sigmar. They have sprung up with this 'second coming' the flagellants were wailing about. We have also seen it on many doors, windows and walls throughout the city today. 

We were reunited with Brigitte when she came to beg our interception in trouble with her uncle. The followers of this ‘True Church’ are demanding merchants in her uncle Johann’s street, and others, turn from the church of Sigmar to their ‘true way’. They have been using intimidation and violence to bring about their wishes but oddly are not using this to extort money or goods.

We have interceded and met with these zealous thugs through a bit of well used subterfuge. Apparently there is to be a meeting tomorrow night for those who have converted. We shall not disappoint. Being temporary converts ourselves.

Sigmar sees all. I am sure he will appreciate the use of cunning deceit for the result we expect to gain. 

The men I heard marching this morning turned out to be over 500 mercenaries of various companies. Tileans, Estalian pikes, even dwarven gunners. It seems they may be here to cover the city’s own regiments that left this summer to engage with Chaos in the north. The city’s watch and the soldiers who are left are stretched with the demands of the native populace and the strain is showing now they have a small army of flagellants growing outside the crater walls. 

All serious matters but the other happenings of today balance this woe, balance my mind.

Talkative and confident from his victory of yesterday, Hans accompanied us when we went shopping. At this point Grunnd had more important matters to attend to than making a worldly man of Hans.

At an armorers I got myself a decent blade. Good length, weight and balance. Still much heavier than I am used to, being a favorer of the rapier, but better than nothing. Danielle was there to get herself a crossbow on recommendation from Grunnd. I am sure he would rather that if he was going to be hit in the back by a bolt, it not be one of his own.

Danielle and Hans were in quite a discussion. I was unsure whether it was good or bad, humorous or irritable. I caught a little about crossbows and their price. Just as I picked up the beautiful piece of weaponry, similar craftsmanship to Grunnd’s, a loud crack let off behind me. When I turned I found Danielle’s face red and furious. Hans face was red with the perfect shape of a handprint seared on his cheek.

I very quickly purchased the weapon and placed it in Danielle’s hands. Steering her out of the shop to prevent an all out fight. Luckily she was using two hands to grasp the heavy gift to her chest. The booming laugh of the blacksmith followed us out of the door.

I didn’t learn until later that Hans had offered paying for the crossbow in return for  her warming his bed. 

The boy is lucky all he got was a slap. Lucky Danielle did not have her new weapon or her old, that family heirloom of an iron skillet, to hand at the time. Bedding your first woman may make you a man but it certainly does not make you a good man or sensible to women’s sensitivities. 

She got her own back a little though. When he returned from drowning his sorrows in the afternoon she happily helped Grunnd sober his sleeping form with a full pale of cold water. 

Sometimes the non-violent option can be just as satisfying.

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The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] Spinning Betty

Angestag 15th Ulriczeit 2522

Last night Grunnd received word of where to meet another agent in the city, down by the spice quarter. Unfortunately when we arrived we found the informant Frederick dead and his shop ablaze. A desperate fire fight ensued once the other merchants and citizens nearby had been roused. At least they seemed well equipped and versed in what to do. I guess with having so much to lose and fire being such an eminent danger... 

It was too convenient. Someone knew we were coming and didn't want us to know what we were to be told.

Grunnd found some interesting things to think on. A sigil marked coin on a broken leather thong grasped in the man’s hand. It showed two crossed hammers surmounted by Sigmar’s twin tailed comet. Frederick had been killed by a single stab wound to the heart, the mark of a professional killer in Grunnd’s books. There was also the remnants of a scroll in the fireplace which was past reading. Unfortunately that is all we know. Grunnd will go to the temple today to speak with fellow Sigmarites. Hopefully they may be able to shed some light on what we are to do now we have arrived, for Verstohlen is still in Altdorf.

Today seems to be a clear day. One of those magical winter days where the sky is a clean clear blue, the sun shines its pale cold light and the air cuts your cheeks. 

Despite the blaze and more death last night my mood is light today. 

I laughed good and hard yesterday when Danielle and I caught back up with Grunnd and Hans after the market. Hans was sat holding a mug of ale in both hands, smiling from ear to ear and laughing into his drink. His smile was amusing to behold. There was a twinkle in his eye and his face was fresh. 

“Oh aye! What did you two get up to then?” Danielle stood with her eyebrow raised expectantly, hand on hip in the stance I've seen fishwives take against their husbands and children alike. “You know, while we did some work. Mmm hmmm?”

“Grunnd?” she tapped her foot. I tried to keep my face serious while I held our purchases and ‘findings’. 

“Hey! Don’t look at me.” he held up his hands with mock shock. Just as quick, a  mischievous grin broke through. “You won’t find women of negotiable affections I’d be interested in here. The lad however..." He winked at Hans.  "Well, let’s just say he’s a man now after an afternoon with Spinning Betty.” Grunnd laughed deep and full as Hans’ face coloured and his silly smile widened more, if it was indeed possible.

Danielle and I couldn’t help but laugh at the grinning idiot with his ale. Bless him. A real man now, eh? Fought in his first battle and bedded his first woman. No one can begrudge a boy some celebration after surviving an encounter with beastmen and Chaos. Certainly not when he walks a path that could bring him back round again, and that time he may not see the other side.

I just hope this Spinning Betty gave him only pleasure. I’ve heard plenty a tale of the pains and itches, boils and worse that can be the longer lasting gift of these women. My brother's friends were quick to tell the tales they had 'heard' of 'friends of theirs'.

Silly boy. Thinking on it has me laughing again this morn.

There’s the sound of many feet on cobbles from outside, walking in unison, marching. Many steps. I should get up and look. Grunnd is already at the window.

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The Van Tanncred Sword [Warhammer] He is Reborn!

Konistag 14th Ulriczeit 2522

Our trip to this city has thus far been uneventful since the battle. My wounds and aches have healed and Grunnd and Stefan have done each other no damage. In fact I am unsure if they have even looked in each others general direction, never mind exchanged words. Maybe it is for the best then that Stefan has upped and taken himself off to his temple on arrival here in Talabheim, leaving Danielle with us.

Arriving here we found the way to the main gates cluttered with strange people. Tents and shelters a plenty. Men and women shouting and wailing prophecies of doom, whipping and causing themselves pain. Grunnd calls them flagellants. Fanatics so fervent in their faith they mortify their own flesh. He says they are fearsome opponents, that they often throw themselves into battle without warning, fear or hesitation. They have been driven so insane by what horrors they have experienced in their lives that they desperately court death in a wish for their pain to end.

To look in the eyes of the truly insane is a fearful thing. We made our way slowly through, trying to look unoffensive so as not to offend or draw their interest. A woman turned towards us. She threw out an accusing bony finger at me, teeth bared and eyes wide in her skull haloed by a shock of black matted hair. “You are doomed! The Iron Forged End of the World, He is reborn!” She continued to screech this over and over while watching me. We picked up our pace and kept our eyes down until we reached the guard at the city gate. I sighed in relief when I realised she had not followed us.  

While checking our papers and reasons for visiting the city we chatted to the gatekeeper, enquiring about the flagellants. It seems they have been travelling here in ever increasing numbers for weeks. They are saying that Sigmar has risen again, the second coming. The city is concerned to have such a large group of people camped on its doorstep, especially in light of the coming winter, and many of the city's militia are gone north to battle against Chaos. We commiserated with him on his predicament and we were eventually permitted entry. 

Once through this was where Stefan chose to take his leave, once Grunnd had told us our inn would be the Comet.  We parted ways and went to deliver the girl Brigitte to her uncle. He strode off into the crowd seeming to know his way. Serious and direct. Suited in armour, sword at his side and heavy bag of healing in his hand. I hope Morr will grant him some humility and humour in his prayers for that is a man in need of some. He has many admirable qualities but others which grate against the sense of his fellow beings, for shame.

Today has overall been a good one in Talabheim. An improvement on Altdorf. We were rewarded with a meal of quality beef from Brigitte's uncle who we found to be a butcher. He was grateful to have his niece back alive, doubly so once she recanted her tale. 

The Comet is a comfortable inn with actual beds to sleep in as opposed to a dry corner or a palette with straw. A luxury! And Danielle did well with her quick tongue to get a pretty penny for our bag of hard-won goods from our travels. Whereupon I was able to use my own talents to stretch those pennies further with my own form of discount. Warm cloaks and clothes for the harshness of winter which is beginning to bare its teeth.

Maybe Danielle and I will stretch our legs after our supper and try the crowds here for some more light fingered work. Grunnd is more than happy for me to explore my talents. He actively seems to encourage it!

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