[WFRP 2e] Morrslieb's Shadow 13

The Echos of Cairnmere

Last Thursday I missed the thirteenth sitting of our WarHammer 2e online campaign. I was, unfortunately, detained at work. However, as the saying goes, "the game must go on!"

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. This doesn't stop his ears from perking up when the elves he is with mentions daemons, though. He's willing to slay a daemon or two before he finds a giant proper.

He is also 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.

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

Mordrin is a prized curiosity in the elven camp, or so it seems. The elves remain standoffish, but Mordrin can always catch, and feel, their gazes. Farnoth mentions in passing at dinner that the slayer cult of the Dwarves, and the Dwarves that take the oath, are subjects of bed time stories told to young or naive elves thoughout the Drakwald and beyond.

It is then that two elves muster courage to approach. Farnoth says they are quartermasters, of a sort, to the gathering forces of the elvish command. They offer finely hammered tins of silver leaf and muted jade inlays. Elvish is exchanged and Farnoth translates, "They are giving you new dyes and wax for your hair. They respect the bright oranges of your oath, but beg...no, suggest... that such colors will be a target for druchii archers or mages. They suggest these muted tones of orange and red as well as unscented waxes."

Mordrin scorned the attempts to camouflage him from the druchii. However, before they leave, he is interested in what the tones they are offering are made of...just in case it's better than beeswax...Mordrin secreted away the two tins and gave a mighty frown, eyebrows bristling, to anyone who he caught nosing into his business.

The party was summoned to the general's tent for a briefing. They were told the attack was going to take place in the morning. Mordrin was assured that the druchii have been summoning daemons. From then on, he narrowed his focus, ignoring his surroundings, and mentally prepared himself for this promisingly epic battle.

The elves woke the party early in the morning, if it was yet morning, and tromped the humans through the forest in the dark. A part of Mordrin's brain noted that the elves seemed to be pulling the party's strings at odd times and in dizzying directions. His conscious brain didn't care that they were seemingly manipulated for the elgi's purposes. He was focused on daemons.

The party investigated a tower that was still standing in the ruined elf town. Mordrin kept his senses alert for the sound of daemons. Finally the sound was heard, but it was not one the slayer was expecting. The guttural roars and otherworldly barking allowed identification not of daemons, as such, but of demonic hounds dedicated to the sacrifices of Khorne. A look of indecision crossed Mordrin's face, unseen as another shadow in the dark. At that moment the elgi and the manlings needed his help getting into the tower.

Mordin stepped up to "knock on the tower door" and by knock, actually swinging his hammer into its center, tearing it from hinge and jamb... while a force of elves and druchii smashed into each other and Flesh-Renders (or "Khorne Dogs") meet a fusillade of arrows from the tree line. 

Once the door was open, Mordrin turned his back on what was inside. He gritted his teeth, gripped his hammer tightly, and strode purposefully toward the sound of the daemonic hounds. As he walked into the forest, he could be heard muttering to himself in Khazalid, with the words "honor," "bravery," "vengeance," and "doom" discernible to any who could understand.

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