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.
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