by Drakdylon
09/03/2011 in Warhammer Fantasy
~~~{KF}~~~
“To me, warriors of Franz, to me! Heed my words! Hear my call!”
The commander sat astride his noble steed, polished armor shining like the sun, longsword held high above his head. All the men of the Nordland 3rd Regiment of foot, resplendent in their blue and yellow livery, looked up at him and listened as he spoke. Among the massed ranks of the Imperial soldiers, William Osbourg listened with great care to his uncle’s words.
by Mossy Toes
12/07/2009 in Warhammer Fantasy
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THE MUTANT CHILD
Book One of The Price of Hope,
To be followed by The Vengeful Father
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Chapter One
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Poc had gone quiet again–that wasn’t good. It never was. Somehow, he always knew when trouble was coming.
“Poc?” asked Ghuto. “Is something bothering you?”
The little boy looked up at him. “It’s too quiet…”
The dry, dusty road stretched out ahead, coiling like a fat, lazy serpent. On either side, the fading leaves of the summer-baked trees rustled quietly.
by Dae
19/03/2009 in Warhammer Fantasy
—–
It was the smell, most probably, thought Jonathan. Nowhere, during his many journeys, had he found the same distinctive odour these streets have at night. Day after day, the same play is endlessly repeated: as the sky over the eastern horizon gradually turns blue, the early morning wind begins to blow and washes everything away towards the sea, cleaning the town before the sun rises.
But the smell always comes back. The first hints can be detected when the wind changes in the late afternoon: the trees stop rustling for a few hours before the sun sets down, and the howling noise of the wind is reduced to a whispering breeze. One after another, as if cautious and afraid, the peddlers begin pushing their carts through the town, seemingly appearing from nowhere. If you follow them, and let yourself be carried away by the flow of people, you will soon find that they all trace their path to the same place.
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