[WFRP 2e] Morrslieb's Shadow 17

Last Thursday we played the seventeenth sitting of our WarHammer 2e online campaign.

My PC
Mordrin Skorkinson, Giant Slayer. He is still looking for a giant to slay, as he doesn't feel the last giant was quite giant enough. He has also slain some daemons, though none of note. He has now slain a wyvern, but decided it was too small to count as a dragon.

He is the bemoaner of the doom that got away.

His chosen weapon is a magical two handed war-hammer taken from a slain priest of Sigmar, its once faded runes now burn bright due to Mordrin's great deeds. So far, it's original name has been lost to time, but Mordrin has taken to calling it Drung Azgul, or Smashing Death.

My companions:
Tibalt - A Brettonian Knight
Udrin - A High Elf Scholar
Gustav - A Human Initiate of Verena
Ato - A Wood Elf Wizard Apprentice (Absent)

From Mordrin's Point of View
From last time: Mordrin opened a door to face a large wyvern.

As it stands now: Mordrin commmented, "Kinda small for a dragon," and charged the creature, swinging for the first body part that came near.

Mordrin and the beast traded an opening volley of blows, leaving the wyvern superficially wounded and Mordrin near death...yet still standing. At this point, the inebriated knight and the well-meaning, yet ineffectual, human charged into the room, distracting the wyvern from executing Mordrin's certain doom. The creature's attention was split from the Slayer. 

This aggravated Mordrin, and his rage fueled a particularly mighty blow to regain the creature's attention. The pair faced off again, trading feints and dodges. Finally the wyvern darted it's head forward for an overbearing bite into the Slayer. It never connected.

The dwarf swung the hammer mightily over his head and brought it down in a deadly arc that connected with the top of the wyvern's head. The creature's head was driven into the floor, where it was smashed between the hammer and the stone. The roar that was billowing up the beast's throat instead ended with a spray of blood, bone, and brain matter across the dwarf and the wall behind him. Mordrin spit chunks out of his mouth and reaffirmed, "much too small for a dragon."

Opening southern tower doors, the party found the wretched elf Harrond, shackled and beaten. Mordrin used the hammer to remove the manacles from the wall. His interested, then, was captured by the knight who was opening other doors out of the room.

A last door entered into the atrium of the tower, where there were stairs leading upward. The second and third landings were empty, but the top landing held another chaos orb and a druchii who sought mastery over it.

Heedless of his wounded state, Mordrin charged the hated elf. His mighty swing missed, carrying through into the battlement wall instead. The elf had slipped to Mordrin's right. 

Mordrin reoriented himself and swung again. The creature disappeared in a pop, like the other echoes of elves in this strange reality. There was skirmishing behind Mordrin, and he turned to assess the situation.

The druchii's twin was assaulting the party from across the other side of the parapet. As Mordin watched, Gustav the Inquisitor shot an arrow into the dark elf's vital organs. The druchii's bowels let loose in a humiliating death. The dark elf threat was no more.

In the distance was the bright light of an explosion, akin to the sun shining over the horizon. Our elf scholar, who was nowhere to be seen during the previous fights, tried to convince us we had just witnessed the creation of Black Water. 

The earth began to shake and other stones began to fall from the sky. Mordrin, figuring death by falling stones was not a particularly noble doom, headed back down the tower stairs. At the bottom, he grudgingly suggested grabbing the wounded Harrond and returning through the orb. The elf scholar wished to play with amulets found on dead druchii first and insisted on collecting them before our return. With the amulets, we returned back to the elven camp in the forest before succumbing to fatigue and collapsing.

The remainder of the group's time in the forest was spent healing and describing their adventures. The elves were aflutter with exploration and discovery of hidden this and that in Cairnmere's cellars. The rest of the party was dismayed by rumors of an avalanche taking out most of Helmgart. 

But Mordrin...Mordrin stewed on his doom that once more was so close, yet escaped his clutching grasp.

From the DM's point of view: http://www.anothercaffeinatedday.com/blog/default/2013/08/27/Morrsliebs-Shadow-Session-17