October 2024
The stage has been set - each region and faction of the Empire has been weakened by corruption and political intrigue - it is up to YOU to make a power play. The first month of the campaign will determine the balance of power in each region. After the month has concluded, this page will be updated with an "influence map", as well as stories and images from the battles that took place.
This month, the power of the wyrd grows stronger. The twin moons Morrslieb and Mannslieb wax bright in the night sky, gibbous and terrible. A portentous month, and one that brings with it the advent of war. Unconfirmed reports come from the south, but the people of the Empire gossip and tell tales of battle between man and monstrosity alike. There are also rumours of renewed activity in the borderlands surrounding the ruined city of Mordheim...
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Halfling scouts in the Mootlands say they have seen a greenskin army on the march and that there was a clash in southern Stirland with the undead lords, though the halflings claim that both armies advance undeterred after the battle. Strange goblin and snotling war machines were seen flying through the air. Could this be true? It is a bleak time of year to reside in The Moot, so close to Sylvania and the dread Mordheim.
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Further to the south, Imperial scouts who were following a marching Bretonnian army claim that the army has clashed with a Dwarf expeditionary force along the Black Fire Pass in the Border Princes region. The Dwarfs were scattered by the horselords, and the Black Fire Pass now stands open for the Bretonnian forces to enter Averland. Unsurprisingly, the Dwarf lord Ogam Oathkeeper swore his revenge on the "pony riding bastards".
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The following note was stuck to the door of the Averheim Herald with a rusty blade. The note was barely legible and on rough parchment. We at the Averheim Herald are not sure if this gesture was intended as a threat. Nevertheless, the message is as follows:
"The moon hung high above, shrouded by thick clouds, just as Mork likes it—nice and dark. We was marchin' on the way to that cursed city, Mordheim, when the lads spotted ‘em: strange-looking humies, dressed in rags, with shaved heads and screamin' somethin' about "balance" and "dragon spirits" or somesuch nonsense. Cathayans. Never seen their like before, but I know one thing—if they ain't gobbos, they ain't friends.
Me plan was simple, see? We wait 'til they get nice and close, then the lads jump out from behind the rocks, nets and spears flyin'! I ain't about to waste a good ambush on humies who can't see in the dark like we can.
Just as we jumped ‘em, a band of bandits holed up in a nearby ruin started firin’ arrows at both us and the monks. Right proper mess, that.
My lads threw their nets and spears, keepin' the monks off balance. They fought back harder than I thought, crackin' a few gobbo skulls, but with arrows stickin' out of ‘em, we took the whole lot of 'em down.
Monks were beaten, loot in hand, and bounties claimed. Mordheim's still ahead, full of shinies and fightin'.
Signed - Zagrag the Shiv"
The Averheim Herald is looking for any more information about an ambushed Cathayan mercenary group, or greenskins in the region. If you have such information, please contact Marius Hofstadter - editor in chief - at once.
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Vilni, the tavernkeepers son, saw them first. Stepping out into the cold snowy night to relieve himself, he saw the direwolves stalking out of the nearby woods. As if direwolves weren't bad enough, Vilni notice the flesh hanging off their exposed ribs, and the lack of their breath in the cold. Rushing back inside the tavern he yelled above the din, "DIREWOLVES!". These were Middenland men and didn't need to be told twice. Hell, they didn't even need to know the wolves were already dead. The half-drunk men plopped helms on heads, gripped their shields, and stepped out into the night.
The wolves hit them fast and hard, but the men were ready for a fight and outnumbered them. A quick skirmish left two wolves dead (again). At the same time, a low groaning reached the gang of men gathered in the cold. A mob of shambling bodies poured out of the woods, dragging themselves towards the inn - at their rear, a pale gaunt man in a rich purple cloak. The man raised his hand and lightning crackled from his hand towards the tavern. Nobody was hit, but the men rapidly understood the situation.
Vilni and his uncle Tarn, the village elder, slammed into the zombies first. They cut and slashed at the mob, driving them back, but there were too many for the two men. One of the things grabbed Vilni by the shoulders and sunk it's teeth into his neck, pulling his throat away from his body. Tarn stepped towards them to try and save his nephew but was struck in the back with a bolt of crackling purple lightning before withering into dust before his kinsmen. The gaunt man's cackle echoed through the air hauntingly.
The laugh was cut short as he noticed two woodsmen sneaking up behind him. He tried to ward them off, but a chopping axe came down and severed his hand from his arm. The next woodsmans axe came down between his shoulder and neck. The rest of the zombies went down without too much trouble after the necromancer fell. After all the dead were dealt with, several men went back to the edge of the woods to collect the remaining bodies for a pyre, but they noticed the necromancer's body was gone. Nobody slept well that night.
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Report from the captain of the Altdorf City Guard to the Elector Count of Altdorf:
During the night and incursion of mutants attempted to breach the tower of the grand theogonist, in what we can only assume was an assassination attempt. Their plans were foiled as we came upon them in transit. A brutal scuffle ensued and it was a close thing. We were only saved by several dwarf sewer-jacks who heard the sound of our blackpowder weapons and came to our aid from the tunnels. We lost several good men in the fray, but killed an ogre, a creature that appeared to be half horse and half orc, and a variety of other mutants. Unfortunately, the champion of the warband escaped after killing poor Hanz, who held of 4 mutants and the champion by himself. The watch has been doubled around the city, and we are ready and prepared for any further attempts by the foul powers of chaos.
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The Averheim Herald has once again been sent updates on the exploits of a band of greenskins in the region. We publish them here as a curiosity - we are unsure how or why the greenskins are contacting us - this is a reminder to beware the increased orc and goblin presence in the region, especially if traveling the roads without a guard. Please contact us if you have any more information.
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From da pages of Gnasha Grimkloak: Itz been a 'ole year since me and da boyz haz been to dat ruttin Mordheim. Since den we'z trimmed da fat of layabout Orcs and gobbled up all da freeloadin' runts, now we'z a lean mean fightin machine! Da city lights up again and we want ta sharpen our blades on da bones of our enemies. We 'ad a spot a trouble wif some lil squeakers but our ekstra kunnin' skills 'ad 'em runnin for da hills. Now we just got a couple a 'umies ta clean up 'fore we 'ead to da city o da damned to prove we'z da best fightin ladz in da land. Me mouf waters wif da thot o some 'umie stew hur hur hur...
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Da Boyz an I came across a rekt town on our trek to Mordheim. There was dis alter in da middle and I thot we'd 'ave a look. Then outta da wood work came lil squeaker ratmen and some blasted 'umies. If that weren't bad enuff we got bit by snakes. One a me boyz lost 'is bleedin eye! Next time I see anyone on da road deys gittin a bashin'!
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Whizbanga here, writing our exploits cuz da Kaptain is down for da count. We'z just found a comfy burnt out church to rest up for da night when those blasted 'umies from da snake town tried ta stab us in da back! Never trust a 'umie, luckily we bashed 'em good but not before Grimkloak went down. He's proper bashed up. I don't fink we'll be seein 'im up and 'round til we reach Mordheim. Fings are gettin' jungle like and I worry 'bout da monsters and magic within. I will pray to Mork to give me da Kunnin to get da boyz through dis trek.
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Me n da boys got lost in da foul woods. Between da trees slapping and da zombies bitin we didn't stand a chance. Took us hours ta find each ovver and by da time we did we was too bloody ta put up a fight. Grimkloak's gettin worse, don't fink he'll make Mordheim... poor lad...