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The sun rose unsteadily in the sky while shedding a coat of blood red light. The bleeding red light was slowly giving away to the bleached light of later morning, the real evidence of the devisation that had wrecked itself upon the hold was just now pronouncing itself to those inside.

The floor of the grounds was filled with the scattered remains of all kinds of bodies of those that were lost. Many of them were dismembered arms and legs. While the owners of these limbs were unknown, the warpaint that was scattered across all of them made certain that their finders knew what allegiance the owner had in life.

In the early morning wood had been gathered from the nearby forest as people worked towards building the gates. Witnesses of their construction could tell though that the makeshift new gates were ramshackled with bits of metal gathered from both the old gates and what could be made by a blacksmith within this single day.

When the darkness comes again this place would rue it. A curse to those damned evil gods who had casted their evil minions and spells upon the people of Albion. Rampaging hordes of Norscans who even with the great sea monster of Morr traveling through the waters didn’t stop them from trying to land upon the shores.

The dead needed to be dealt with. So many of them there were that no grave could be dug deep enough. Many wanted to simply worry about their own kin, those noble men who died as defenders against the hordes of Norscans, but others answered that with the simple idea that Norscans would not be opposed to eating their own dead. That by throwing the corpses of the dead chaos worshippers outside that they would in fact be feeding their besiegers!

As all corpses could not be dealt in a single day the people of this Barony gathered the dead into a pile. The wood shavings from the construction of the new fortifications or wood peices that were simply too small to be used were thrown into the pile as well. Then a line of people from the fortress, who love ones were lost in the previous night’s battle, placed relics of those lost next to their bodies, or on the pile if they could not be found. The precession of the mourning ended with a man who called himself a Knight. He gave a few words that carried with them blessings and protection for the life after.

Then the people threw torches that were lit since the previous night upon the fire. Quickly they all wept at the sight of their saviors, martyrs in the battle against the damned.

Walking away Lucian knew what he needed to do.

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“Baron!” Lucian called out as he met the man on the battlements overlooking the pair of blazing fires which consumed the bodies of those that were their friends and their enemies, “I’ve made my decision, I cannot stay here in fear of what will come tonight and the next night. If I can help it, I must make sure that fewer souls make their way to Morr.”

“How will we do that? There are too many of them and the fortress strengthens us.” The Baron asked as he turned to Lucian, “With all respects, Sir Knight, while you are a prolific warrior I cannot see our odds changing simply because you are among us.”

“I do not ask for an army, but release from my oath.” Lucian told the man, “I have fought Greenskin and Chaos, both act the same. If I kill their lord then they will run in fear, disperse across the plains in fear.”

The man laughed as if Lucian said a funny joke, “You do not understand who it is you would be fighting. Did you witness that Giant among their kin the last night?”

“Yes, the giant was standing off from the rest of his warriors.”

“Giants never do that. Chaos always sends forward the Giants to crust the keep under their feet. Such is the reason the walls of their keep are so thick, to make sure that a monster of such size cannot casually topple the walls with a kick.” The man answered Lucian, “In these lands there is a name that travels amongst our kind, Grimidal, Father of Albion’s Giants.”

“Why would he have such a name?” Lucian dared to ask.

“It is said that those who witnessed Grimidal heard the giant speak, that he would murmur to himself and with giant trees light forest fires.” The man answered Lucian, “He has the name because word is he can think. That he still has a mind where all of his children are as dumb as the stone he carved them out of.”

“An… intelligent giant? That is what Grimidal is?”

“Aye, I believe he is the leader of that Chaos Warband.” Answered the man as he fully faced Lucian now. The bodies of his people burned behind him as he spoke his question, “Do you think you can kill Grimidal, the First Giant of Albion? Sure you have killed the Jabberslythe, but can you face such an ancient creature?”

>We shall still challenge this being
>Maybe… not

>>5949351
>We shall still challenge this being
Everything dies, some just need a little help

>>5949351
>We may do it, Gods willing.

Even if we can't, he said so himself that us being there wouldnt aid them overmuch.

>>5949351
> We shall still challenge this being

We do it
>>5949405
>>5949423
>>5949597

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Lucian did not bat an eye at being told all of this, “If I am to face Grimidal, then I am to face Grimidal. Everything dies in the end, and if this is some long lived giant, then I will help it return to the earth.”

Lucian expected some reaction, but the subtle surprise that was crossing the visage of the Baron of this castle was not one of them, “You truly think that you can kill such a being?”

“If the Gods are willing I may be able to do so.” Lucian answered him firmly, his voice carrying his firmness in faith for the cause that he is about to set himself upon.

There was some distraught in the eyes of the Baron as he started to think on the situation. His eyes shifting from one side to the other as he simply began to wonder what it was pushing Lucian so far. Yet, “I cannot stop a man who has such a death wish, especially if it might be our only hopes in surviving this conflict. I hereby declare your agreement to defend my fortress fulfilled.”

“Thank you.” Lucian said as he gave a bow to the man, “Let us hope that I am successful.”

“I want to do more than that.” Answered the Baron as he pointed to one of the untouched buildings that were within the fortress he held, “That is the place where I keep my mighty steeds. I remember hearing from a Bards that your Bretonni are Horsepeople, yet you do not have a mighty steed. Take one of mine.”

The Knight did not really have much to lose, “Sure, I’ll take a look at what horses you have. I thank you for this chance.”

“Aye, if you kill the mighty Grimidal, then I sing your name to the King of Albion itself!” Declared the man as he slammed Lucian’s back with a smile, “May your days have clear skies.”

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Lucian left the man, making his way towards the stables. Walking through the courtyard gave Lucian a chance to see Bok, the giant Lizardman basking in the sunlight after having a night full of eating the flesh of chaos tainted men. Lucian guessed it would have no effect on the creature, his memories going back to the times it was consuming the flesh of Skaven.

Indeed, if Tee-Nee-Tyny was allowing Bok to eat those things, then Chaos Worshippers was probably alright.

Around him were people taking beasts of burden in and out of the stables. The smell from standing outside was already telling Lucian that the place was filled to the brim with animals. The people probably did so because they thought such a place was safe.

In that they were right.

The inside of the place was no better than the outside. Buzzing with people and beasts it was hard to even get through without brushing against one of the many handlers. Each of them, clearly civilians who witnessed the fighting from afar, quickly made way for Lucian who had distinguished himself to the citizens of this place. None wanted to cross the Knight who weilded the bloody scythe, who was able to cut down men in the dozen without breaking a sweat.

Something was caught in the edge of Lucian’s eyes at that moment. Something off to the side that was as black of night in this bustling place. It was a double take, his eyes now fully facing to see the full black mare who was still a man’s head taller than any stallion that was here.

Lucian could have sworn he had seen such mighty features in no other place. That such a powerful build was something that should not be on this island. And he was correct, for it was surely a horse of Bretonnia.

It was Nightshade, Lucian’s steed and mount.

>Call the horse over
>Approach the creature with respect
>No, its a different horse.

>>5949405
>>5949423
>>5949597
God damn anons I love you. I missed the vote but yall Chad's.

>>5950153
>Approach the creature with respect
>We are reunited once again my four legged friend.

>>5950153
>>Approach the creature with respect

>>5950153
>Approach the creature with respect
Bow and do a horse whistle

>>5950153
>>Call the horse over
>Let's go, we have a mountain to topple

>>5950153
> Approach the creature with respect

Why the long face :)

>>5950156
We have to kill note worthy monsters while we’re here. But even so it is standard for Lucian to always choose the biggest foe

>>5950412
You'd be surprised about random newfags showing up and derailing a whole quest.

>>5950153
>>Call the horse over.
Hey!!! Come

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The man took a single step towards the mighty steed, his eyes in wonder at just how the gods had blessed him with his mount. He should not call out to her, for he knew the temperment of the mare was much more pronounced than others.

Each step was a cautious one so that he would not upset her. It was after all his decision that landed them upon the island of Albion. He suspected that the beast had some anger over the fact that it was he who landed them in this mess. Well, he had done so to a certain extent that he would punish himself for.

“Hey,” Lucian heard someone call out from beside him as he walked, “You think you can ride that mighty beast of a horse?”

“Yes.” Lucian said without even facing the man. His full attention taken by the mighty steed as it noticed him. It shook that mighty maine of its as it witnessed him, for what it might mean for Lucian he did not yet know.

“A dozen men including the Baron have tried to ride her and none were able to.” Answered the man who Lucian was trying not to give any mind to, “The Baron had the greatest time on her, three bucks before she kicked him off of her saddle. You sure you wanna try?”

“I will,” Lucian said as he stood before her, “For Nightshade is my horse.”

At the mention of its name the mighty creature shifted, its head high and mighty as if owning up to such a declaration. It looked upon Lucian with something that was close to scorn, likely because it was angered by having to be alone for so long.

Lucian kept himself straight, trying not to make him seem any larger than he was. A simple show of humility, one that he was all to use to these last few days. He had one hand resting upon his breast, making it clear where one of his arms were. The other gave a simple prayer to the Lady and Morr before the Knight reached towards her snout. He did not grab it though, instead keeping it held underneath her jaw in wait.

Nightshade looked upon him haughtiness and judgment, weighing as if what Lucian was doing was enough for it. For all the pain and torture she had to experience would be resolved through this action.

Yet against all that happened, the Horse nuzzled the hand of Lucian. His head lowering to rub itself against the outstretched hand of the nearly fallen Knight. Lucian held himself for he enjoyed the moment of peace the two of them were having. Here in just a few minutes they would need to sally forth and face their enemy.

He wanted to enjoy this moment.

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The eyes of everyone were upon Lucian as he rode out of the stables upon the back of Nightshade. He, who was of modest height, was now the tallest person in the entire fortress. What they were now witnessing was to a Knight upon his steed. A Bretonnian Knight in almost his full glory. A Questing Knight who was marching forth towards what was certain doom to bring down the greatest foe the people of Albion have yet to face.

The glory was not lost upon Nightshade, who basked in it with a rustling of her mane and her head ever the tallest. Every step the steed took sounded through the fortress with certainty and purpose. A declaration that they were noble and powerful!

Lucian was not the least bit surprised when Bok had already risen and was now walking next to them. The Kroxigor must have felt it in the air, that things were changing and that travel was upon them. Just as a child who riding in a cart would awaken at their destination, he felt the changing of the tides that told him they were to move.

As for the people he cared nothing for it. He simply marched forward as if he was a puppet who was being given perfect instruction by the puppeteer.

As the Knight looked up he saw the Baron standing above him. The man looked skeptical as he stood above the barely repaired gates that were only held together by the hope of the people within the fortress. His bearing, while filled with the weight of a warworn leader who could barely put any faith in the actions of a single man, raised his hand into the air to bring the attention of all to him.

“Lucian of Bretonnia,” He declared as he tightened his hand into a fist, “Swear to me that you will bring down Grimidal and save our keep or die trying. As all are witnessed here, upon your success, that tales of your heroism will be sung until the End Times.”

“I swear upon Morr and the Lady that I shall bring Grimidal down!” Lucian did not hesitate as he slammed his hand against his chest.

“Then may the gods protect you upon your journey.” Answered the Baron as the makeshift ruined gates slowly opened to release Lucian back into the world.

>Try and hide amongst the trees
>Clear in intent, to declare a duel
>Quick and fast, this is an assassination

>>5950943
>Quick and fast, this is an assassination

I mean I'm happy to propose a duel if we run into the giant. I just want to do it overall fast. I don't know if they'll just let us duel him or if the chaos guys will just try to sandbag us

>>5950943
>Clear in intent, Decalre a duel.

Et tu, Brute. Nightshade is with us, Hoe can we despair?

>>5950943
> Quick and fast, this is an assassination
This isn’t an honor duel. Chaos minions aren’t going to discuss it with us and let us through unmolested. No one will expect a lone/suicidal Bretonnian Knight.

If we need to not be sneaky then we can attack the giant front on but let’s sneak or race past the minions.

>>5951223
We can make it an honour duel. And b3cause it id the giant, he is likely to accept

>>5950943
>Quick and fast, this is an assassination

>>5950943
>>Quick and fast, this is an assassination
>Dueling chaos
>Chaos honoring a duel
>Chaos desrving a duel in the first place

>>5951487
Such is the way of the lady.

And honestly it can't refuse a single man challenging it, calling it a weakling and a coward, without losing it's standing among the warband
It'd be different if we were. . .you know, actually a threat.

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Upon leaving the fortress that had been defending the people of these local lands, Lucian and Bok quickly made their way towards the standing grounds where the forces of Chaos had launched their assault.

The standard ornamentation of Chaos was all around Lucian as he walked. Effigies made from the broken bodies mounted upon eight pointed stars were scattered in every crater and crevice. Just as many of them who were the citizens of Albion, Lucian realized, were of the Chaos Worshippers. Warpaint from both sides were covering their limbs, some of them the icons of Chaos while others the decoration of the Albion people.

It did not take long after walking for Bok to get the scent that they were looking for. The massive Kroxigor was equipped with a snout large and powerful enough to sniff out the worst the world had to offer. Predatory senses that were far beyond what was normal for other mortal beings, even those that were specifically bred for the task.

Lucian could only imagine how a creature like this was made.

The Kroxigor soon moved in a specific direction, not bothering to walk on all four of his limbs thanks to how strong the scent was for him. For Lucian it was easy to confirm their trail, for the Chaos Worshippers had left a trail of idolatry in their wake as well as the crushed trees of what was once a mighty forest. Where they walked was the same direction that the worshippers of Chaos walked.

Their traveling at times showed that being with Bok was the best creature for the job. When they had exited the trees the scarceness of readily available woodstuff made it so few ornaments declaring their faith to the dark gods could be seen. Other times there appeared to be a split, where the army became two and took different directions that were far away from one another. Each time though Bok took the right direction, for within a matter of miles Lucian would be witness to large rows of trees knocked down and footprints the size of himself.

So they continued to track the giant.

It was after a few hour’s trip that the signs of Chaos were clear. The ground was no longer a firm brown covered by greenery, but a dark red rotting in pools of green decay. Sometimes trees would burn with blue fire while others would have so many flowers upon themselves that the trees appeared to be dying. It did not help that those flowers looked to be smiling at Lucian.

Confirmation was given when he saw his first set of Idols. There were four of them stacked on top of one another. One was The Hound, one The Crow, the other The Serpent, and lastly of The Eagle. Each of these, whose faces Lucian would call the most evil he had ever been witnessed to, smiled as he arrived in the war camp of Grimidal.

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The Warcamp of Grimidal was clearly meant for the giant and no others. It was a multi-layered creation that spanned underneath the edge of a cliff face that jetted out hundreds of yards out above the camp. For normal men such a place would be constraining. As there were many fires in there, Lucian could imagine the smell of smoke that carried itself through the camp thanks to the enclosement of the ceiling.

But for a Giant who does not wish to have rain fall upon his skin as he slept, this was the perfect place for him. Where his men would suffer from the disease of sunless days and have their lungs rotted out through the smell of purging fires, he could simply stay in a place that could shelter his immense size.

Now that they were there, with the camp in sight, both Bok and Nightshade were in a rush.

Without sneaking Lucian could guess the scouts of Grimidal were witness to their approach. The camp would not fully assemble their forces for the coming assault for why would they bother? Lucian was but one man mounted upon a steed and Bok was still a singular Kroxigor.

Just as expected, Lucian could see a thin rank of Norscans forming up and preparing to throw their spears. Their arms drawn back, the men quickly rained javelins upon their approach.

This might have been the most risky moment. If there was a failure here then their advance would have been lost even before the Knight swung his scythe. Death at range, a dishonor that befell even the greatest Knights of Bretonnia such as Gilles the Uniter. If he was struck, that would have meant the end of his quest and the loss of Bretonnia to the forces of darkness.

Yet, with every step Nightshade took to gallop, three javelins landed to either side of Lucian. As the wind would brush against Lucian’s face the winds brushed the heads of those dreadful, unworthy projectiles. Each of them failed to score on either Lucian or Bok, both of them slamming into the ranks of Norscan Marauders within a minute of sighting them. His scythe cutting through them as the rune embedded in his chest sung with songs of devastation and Grimnir.

Fresh blood feeding the blood god’s grass, Lucian and Bok threw themselves into the camp. It would seem that the Slaves of Darkness would need to face them after all, thanks to the Blessing of the Lady.

>Thone Chamber of Grimidal
>Mighty Fire of Famine’s Feast
>Open Temple of Ruinous Ruin

Slaves to Darkness!?
THE slaves to darkness!? Well I am not sure if it refers to pretty much any chaos worshipping band or those heavy metal black armoured gore dudes from the 80's... those were brutal

>Open Temple of Ruinous Ruin
Only because of >Ruinous Ruin it's so... fantasy

>>5951697
>Open temple

Lets just burn down their cathedral as a backdrop for our duel

>>5951697
>Open Temple of Ruinous Ruin
This one seems like good 80s warhammer art

>>5951697
>Open Temple of Ruinous Ruin
Fair enough. Heir to ruin etc

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Their charge through the warcamp of Grimidal was something that the Norscans did not expect nor prepare for. In these vital minutes they needed to be faster than the word of their arrival. Faster than the realization that all the pain, terror, and death the men of chaos heard was not of their own doing.

Lucian knew he was not going to be perfect in this. His scythe was in motion within seconds of arriving as the Norscans who were ready to spectate his arrival and death were now standing in his way. If they posed him no threat because of their sheer surprise the Knight did not care, his scythe was already in motion taking the heads off of five men before the feet of Nightshade had been burdened by the tainted grounds of the warcamp.

Bok was right behind him. The Kroxigor using its bulk to simply run over the thin lines of men into a disheveled pile of bones and meat.

Lucian held himself for a moment, cutting down ten more of the Norscans in the needed moments for Bok to take point. The Kroxigor still hot on the trail of the giant who they were hunting, it had without any hesitation took a right where Lucian would have taken a left. Quick on its heels, Lucian followed.

They ran and ran with blood and murder in their wake. The burning in his chest told Lucian that he was in the thick of it, becoming what was an even greater symbol of the Slayerkin of Old. The worshippers of the damned were but mere fodder standing in the way of the Knight as he charged forward like an arrow let loose from a bow.

The sun was gone from the sky, the blinding star of the gods covered by earthworks. The smoke and ash from fire used for both survival and sacrifice stuffed the air. Lucian could tell, upon the tip of his senses, the dreadful taste of charred flesh of man butchery.

Even with the ceiling of this outcropping so high up the streets were so narrow. The men appearing outside of their tents and reveries on both sides of Lucian tightened to such damning proportions that it did not compare to simply being under the Grey Mountains. What he was riding towards was not simply a place where earth was stacked on top of one another. As Lucian saw the statues of fiendish daemons created from the flesh of mankind, every step Bok guided him upon was driving Lucian to a realm that was no longer of mortal men.

“The Gods have heard our pleas! They have answered our prayers and sacrifices here today!”

The rumbling voice of a demi-god roared as Bok broke the barrier. Where there was once streets, was now an open sanctum.

Lucian felt fear. The most truest of fear. For the Temple he walked into was the incarnation of Chaos.

“Sleeping I have, resting within the bosom of the Crow for the longest time I had.”

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His eyes wandered as they could not comprehend all in a single glance. The first thing he had noticed was the sheer amount of rubble strung about the place. Pieces of what were at first plentiful wood, then he gazed upon the pieces of stone that were spilled across the wood. Pieces of marble peppered across the area with what appeared to be bronze statues ripped from their homes.

Among the rubble pieces of heraldry from so many different lands. Many were the clear art works of the Albion peoples, with curving art of lines and knots displayed across the room. But they were all joined by others, others that Lucian realized were of eagles and horses. Of dragons and stags from lands far beyond what was simple Albion.

“My eternal sleep was stirred when the urgings of the snake flushed my veins. I had forgotten the sweet and ever lasting taste of man’s blood that eternal sleep had robbed me! So I rose, I rose from my slumber and sounded the horns! I rose and called the first of your kind.”

There Lucian started to notice them. At the highest peaks were the banners and broken tapestry that contained the artwork of the Grail. Its golden radiance was robbed as ashes and smoke smothered. Above them all though was a banner Lucian recognized in an instant.

“We all heard it, we all heard the cry and howling of the Hound when with my own two hands I ripped apart the King of Fools and his flying beast. Oh the blood of such a fool was delectable, how sweet the nectar of their goddess blessed my mouth that I could sleep for a hundred more years!”

It was the crowned lion wielding a sword. Its colors of red and blue were striking to the eyes. All peasants and nobles knew to kneel when they sighted such a banner for it was of the Royarch, their King.

Climbing with the bellowing of their lord, the Norsman who were kneeling towards the center began to bellow in a single, powerful concussion of force. It was like a steady drum that was matching Lucian’s pounding heart as he realized all the scraps were from campaigns waged and pass.

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“It was the Eagle who urged me to return to these lands. He showed me a vision of thousands marching towards the lowlands. An army he had promised me, an Army to which I would be at the helm of!”

Lucian’s eyes noticed now the sculptures that were carved into the stone itself. Each of them a hideous creation further beyond what were the watchmen of the Norscan forces. Yet Lucian could scarcely call them sculptures of stone for each of them seemed to move on their own. Their mouths roared with the beat as if cheering on some worthy contender in the gladiatorial arena of fate.

“The Eagle has told me another thing, with his right eye which sees all that is to come, of interlopers.

Before him Lucian could see forces moving. As Nightshade galloped and Bok Continued his charge a force of ten men in the heaviest armor Lucian had ever paid witness to become a formation before him. Each of them were equipped with massive weapons that no reasonable sane man should be capable of wielding. Drawn upon those weapons were the artifacts of lost empires, each of them a symbol of achievement to the damned souls.

“Come forth defenders of faith, chosen of the false gods.”

Lucian realized that his eyes never looked upon the being for they did not want to. His mind, filled with the terror of all hells from all corners of the world, yet his body was trying to spare him from what was the worst of all things upon the world.

He was massive. The size of entire castles in girth and in height as tall as the Spire of Aquitaine. He possessed a single head, but made pronounced by the exposed chest was the many faces which now peppered his chest. Each of them looked at Lucian with licking lips as they could taste the fear that a man who should not know how to feel fear, truly felt from the bottom of his mortal soul.

“I, Grimidal, killer of Kings, first of Giants, and lone victor against the all hungry God of the Stars, welcomes you to this Temple! This Temple to the four and only true Gods of the world!”

Strapped across his body was several pieces of armor crafted in such a way that they did not impede the mutation. These mutations came as tentacles, as eyeless mouths and eyes without mouths. They came as giant holes within the gut where hives of ravenous insects the size of men floated like mere flies.

“Come forward, and be my most finest sacrifice to the Four.”

Grimidal, and all his faces, smiled.

>CHARGE!
>Help Bok with the Chaos Warriors
>Flee

>>5952358
>Charge.

>>5952358
>>Help Bok with the Chaos Warriors
We gotta save ourselves (both of us) as much as we can! We won't tire as much (and be wounded as much) if we stay together. Plus the two have great synergy...

I think Bok might be able to climb Grimidal and go town at its head, so we better keep him alive 'till then. Also flee is an option just saying :)

>>5952358
>CHARGE!
Don’t want to get worn down with the chaff

>>5952566
Some extra thoughts; we’ll gain slyer favor by suicidally attacking a giant out of our league. Since the giant boasted about killing our king and the king’s retinue, we should get The Lady’s favor for retribution (and killing this giant will count as a great monster for the oath we swore to The Lady). We swore to the baron of the fortress we would kill the giant or die trying (so leaving is only an option if it is a “run to fight another day”, but runs the risk of potentially negating the slayer bonus we’ve accrued.

But the main point I want to make is that on the ship we had a choice to finish off that vampire or help our friends and we chose our friends, and unwittingly broke our oath.

I think Lucian needs to have learnt his lesson and go straight for the giant and Bok will need to fend for himself.

>>5952622
You got dubs twice and you made this?
So the point of a Knight is to ignore everyone he cares for hoping to appease the lady and rushing like a mad man that quests for glory and not for whats right?

CHARGE
>>5952482
>>5952566

Help Bok
>>5952489

CHARGE!!! I need rolls! Three of them, best of.

>>5952883
More of Vows are dangerous and can be lethal.

Not Fantasy, but in 40k there was an Imperial Knights Pilot who swore that they would never take off a coat gifted to her by a fellow noble. Everyone admired her for her honor, but if she had picked her vows a little better she wouldn't have drowned at the bottom of a lake. Assassinorum: Kingmaker btw.

>>5953062
She died a SIMP
Got it... but, the aim is to fulfil one's vows, not to disregard your friends' lives right? In this scenario, we are trusting Bok to pull his weight (he damn can) we are not leaving him to fend for itself...
I am not convinced the vows were broken when Lucian choose to save him friends. Tho his benefactors care little about others, unless they also appease them I assume. Something so unfair as "I helped my friends and you tell me I broke my vows!?" is very God-like

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>5953058
ah, rolls

>>5953074
Nice!! Almost a HUNDRED!!!! Oh boi..........

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>5953058
Charge?

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>Tee nee tiny looks like this

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>5953058

>>5952883
>>5953071
Yeah I agree but last time we helped our friend we got burnt. In character, as a consequence Lucian should feel that his vows carry weight. And not be so quick to swear them in the future

>>5953164
Haha we live to roll another day

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The smoke was caught in his throat. The stigmatas of corruption and devastation caused his eyes to water. His very soul quaked in fear as it reminded him that there were far worst fates than simply dying. That if he was to die here, Lucian would not go to the divine Morr but instead to the four Gods of Ruin who would tear him apart in a mere instant.

Yet Lucian was not alone.

HIs chest burned with an immense flame that flared through his heart and lungs. A divine might flowing through him that Lucian took greedily like the Dwarfs who it embodies. It purged the smoke from his lungs. Through his mind was an immense anger that teetered on insanity itself, yet this was a cold anger that was focused upon a single point. Effigies of damnation surrounding him, their grip upon his mind was shattered as Lucian’s soul became a blazing fury of curses and rebuttals.

Charging forward the Chaos Warriors lined themselves in a three rank thick formation. Then they took out their long weapons, arranging them so that all those points were directed at Lucian to skewer himself upon. These were seasoned veterans who fought and won against the forces of Bretonnia, the charge of a lone Knight who did not even have his armor was nothing to them.

Yet as Lucian charged, so did Bok. The massive form that was in front of him began swinging his weapon wildly towards the Chaos Warriors. There was no rhyme or reason to the attacks, Lucian thought, until he witnessed the club made from random bits of wood Bok had grabbed slamming into those Chaos Warriors and their weapons.

It was a motion that no horseman to could do, knocking over the weapons that were threatening to impale his steed! Three more throws of the club and the Chaos Warriors were almost all on the ground and none of their weapons were prepared to strike out against Lucian as he ruched by.

Lucian, Champion of Morr, prayed that his companion would survive. For he would have died there if the Kroxigor had not charged into those Chaos Warriors.

Now clear of the Warriors Lucian reached onto his back and took out his scythe. The massive weapon made from the iron forges of man seemed to glisten in the firelight as he charged.

“HEAR ME GRIMIDAL!” Lucian yelled at the top of his voice in an angry shout that showed just how far into the runic magics of the Dwarfs Lucian found himself, “IN THE NAME OF GRIMNIR, THE LADY, AND MORR, I WILL SLAY YOU!”

Lucian was answered with a laugh that shook the very earth. The Giant slowly picked up a massive piece of iron that was sitting next to him which was nearly half the length of the giant who wielded it.

Like a god, the giant rod came slamming down above the Questing Knight’s skull.

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The horseman was quick to snap on the reigns of Nightshade, the beast already beginning to move in the direction that Lucian had confirmed it to. Speed was essential for them and to Lucian’s luck the speed of Nightshade was something that was not understated. In truth he had never gone this fast but the fear of death upon them had driven both to push themselves further than ever before.

It was a dash to the side that allowed them to avoid the club. Its impact shattered the stone floor and sent shrapnel shards of stone scattering across the fields with ease. The ground shook so harshly that the Knight felt his bones rattle with the ground underneath them. It seemed though that Nightshade, Lady bless her, was still able to run as she was surely in a great amount of pain from the impact.

Another laugh roared from the Giant above as he brought the club around and once again brought it above their heads. It was a feeling in his heart and Lucian acted on it, snapping the reigns of his steed and driving her to turn about as fast as she could. Sparks from the shoes she wore flew as her feet were forced to try and find enough purchase to accomplish such a maneuver. Underneath Lucian could feel the shuttering of Nightshade as the steed’s limbs screamed in protest as they had to find good purchase on hard stone flooring.

Yet Lucian’s gut was right, for seconds after the massive club slammed right where they were going to be. The Giant being smart enough to try and strike where they were, but was not expecting them to dodge so well. Lucian snapped his reigns upwards, and on command Nightshade threw herself into the air like a valiant pegasus. The ground underneath them shuttered as the wave of destruction was carried through the earth.

They had dodged it.

There was a deep hum from above as Lucian saw the giant begin to kneel. The club that he was carrying shifting to the side away from them for a moment that seemed like a mercy. Then, in a practiced motion, the club began sweeping towards them like a maid’s brush against dust.

His heart lurched, his mind waived from the anger, Lucian saw death coming and there was seemingly no way to dodge it now. Yet he did not stop, no, he needed to go faster! Snapping and straightening Nightshade she carried Lucian directly at the Giant who was kneeling down towards Lucian with the small smirk on his face.

Over the air of the gallop Lucian could feel the compressed air from the sweep coming towards him. An unstoppable motion of nature that sounded like the air itself was being shattered under its sheer power.

In a heartbeat of a second Lucian saw the flicking wrist of the giant, its motion so slow to his eyes yet so fast. Yet he noticed that, while there was a great amount of armor, there was such a large gap in it.

His scythe moved with his mind, finding a gap between the armplate and hands.

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The yell from Grimidal was earth shattering as Lucian struck the wrist. Lucian himself also yelled, the ruin upon his body tightening with strange magics that made Lucian stronger than even the Royarch blessed by the lady. The Scythe had cut into the wrist, taking a one foot wide cut that ran from the front of his wrist through the bone and to the otherside.

Compared to the giant it was nothing, but to Lucian who had cut across a foot worth of flesh a foot deep was a victory that few could claim. A glorious strike that would strike Lucian’s name in the annals of all history as the mortal man who bled a Demi-God.

Yet he did not stop. He charged forward and ran between the legs of the mighty monster with a quick motion of the scythe. First was the right hand, now Lucian raised his scythe high above his head. Like an executioner Lucian slammed the weapon down and dug a two foot wound into it.

He yanked his scythe, his heart ablaze with all the strength Grimnir had to give. Beyond even before Lucian challenged the Jabberslyth Lucian faced off against a Giant, a dead that so many Slayers have thrown themselves into and was a mighty deed of Grimnir himself.

For a Dwarf was always fighting those larger than they were. Lucian was simply a Dwarf against this monster of a Giant.

Like an arrow missing its target, Nightshade carried Lucian across rubble and ruins from distant civilizations. The beast turned in a more reasonable manner at the same time Grimidal turned to face them with a bellowing scream of rage.

“Bretonnian, I will savor your blood!” He screamed as he reached down and gripped a large pile of rubble.

>Go for the ankles
>Finish the cut on the hand
>A thousand cuts, everywhere

>>5953314
>>Finish the cut on the hand
He is picking up rubble, if we are fast enough, we will get to the hand again!

>>5953314
>Finish the cut on the hand

I like that he has “become” a dwarf due to the size. Nice imagery Machine!

>>5953314
>Finish the hand

You fucked with the king, Suffer the knight.

>>5953314
>>Finish the cut on the hand

>>5953362
>>5953426
>>5953471
>>5953706

It is clear, but can Lucian do it? ROLLS!!!

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>5953792
We'll have to see if it works out...

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>5953792
AIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>5953792

>>5953844
I dunno chief. It looks pretty good.

Weird how they are all ending in 5

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>5953918
ending in five? Watch this

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Pieces of rubble slowly fell out of the Giant’s hand as Lucian began running towards the first of the largest beings in existence. His blade ready, he saw as the creature did not even bother to draw back his hands in a pitch, flicking across their battlefield numerous pieces of stone, wood, and furnishments from kingdoms past.

Lucian saw a few of them, driving Nightshade to the side as to avoid the largest of them all. Other pieces seemed to slowly move out of the way, the winds of the Lady brushing apart the bits of metal and stone that were aiming to impale themselves into Lucian.

Yet they were not perfect. Lucian felt so many pieces of stone entering his body with stings like insects were upon him. Small daggers that were peppering both his and Nightshade’s body that threatened to bring them down.

Neither were willing though. A kick to the side brought Nightshade running towards the giant with the greatest of speeds.

Grimidal brought above his head the strange pipe welded in his right hand. The giant was quick to bring it down towards his head as if trying to strike an annoying bug. Yet like so many vermin the two of them were able to dodge the strike and even ride along his massive limb.

He could see it there, Grimidal bringing the weapon up so that he could easily smash with a quick flick. Yet Nightshade proved worthy as she brought the Knight next to the rising wrist where the first injury was made. Lucian’s hands were quick and mighty, flushed with power, allowing him to get another score of damage upon the flesh of the mighty monster.

A cut that was like the last one, a foot deep and two feet long following the wrist. Blood spurted rapidly as the grip upon the ornate handle of the club was loosened.

Lucian might have been happy for that, but then he watched as a massive foot rose and poised itself above his head. It came down fast with all the weight of Grimidal behind it. As this battle seemingly was being determined, it was Nightshade’s speed that allowed them to dodge the simple concussion that was to come towards them.

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As the vibrations rattled their flesh the next blow was already coming. This time the steel pipe that the giant had been using quickly came down to the right of Lucian, causing the earth underneath them to crack and shutter. The Knight could hear a cry from his steed but was already in motion to strike out against the offending limb.

It was a hard strike, but Lucian was able to get another foot deeper into the flesh of the Giant who rose that very limb. Lucian’s blade was seeingly carried too, causing a bloody tide to erupt from the small bit of palm that the Knight cut into.

Nightshade barely moved as the next blow came, the horse giving them about room to dodge the blow but not to fully escape its effects. Lucian alone could feel his blood ache and his body fighting itself as it wanted to simply come apart from the forces. Yet it was the Rune that kept them both together long enough to move the scythe upwards and make another strike, this time a new wound that joined with the others.

Oh the roar of pain from Grimidal as the limb was once again cut into. He was quick this time, so fast that Nightshade could not escape from the blow unscathed. A blow, this time on their left, knocked the horse towards the right and threatened to bring Lucian down with her. Let the Knight was quick, his scythe already motioning to slam into the barely exposed bone through all the blood and muscle tendons.

With a yank, Lucian tore into it.

Another mighty yell that seemed to shake the entire foundation of the world came from Grimidal. The Demi-God who brought about the damnation of civilizations lost his weapon, dropping the ornate rod onto the ground as his right hand went slack from injury.

“I AM DONE WITH YOU!” Declared the giant as he reached down with his left hand and picked up the rid again. How he held it, how instead of preparing to slam it down upon Lucian but instead point it at him, told Lucian that something was very wrong.

It was when it sat above his head and Lucian could look down the barrel towards a dark abyss that Lucian realized just what the Giant had been trying to bat him with. Its size was immense, so immense that it was a weapon in its own right against his kind, but what it truly was mattered the most.

It was a gun, a hand cannon whose size should never have been seen or will never be seen again. The weapon held in one hand and the injured arm being used to support it, the Knight of Morr watched as the trigger was depressed and a series of ancient mechanisms began to move.

Grimidal grinned wickedly as he began to fire.

>Pray to the Lady
>Get one last push out of Nightshade
>Some help would do

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>5953996
>Pray to the Lady
>Get one last push out of Nightshade
>Some help would do BOK go for the eyes!

We be praying to anybody that's listening and using what we got to the fullest extent.

>>5953996

>Pray to the Lady
Si deus nobiscum quis contra nos? (if God is with us, who can be against us?)

>>5953996
>Pray to the Lady
Gonna need an act of god for this one

>>5953996
>>Pray to the Lady
>>L-Lady you won't allow filthy ranged weaponry to kill me right?
Screw the bullet or whatever will be shot from that shit, the blast from the gunpowder itself will liquify Lucian unless he has all the max haxxs he can get

>>5953996
> Pray to the Lady

She spared us for the depths of the sea, for what? Surely to be her judgement and wrath for what was done to the king

>>5954027
>>5954053
>>5954121
>>5954141
>>5954153

Votes are clear, so I need rolls. Bo5 for this vote!

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>5954431
Best of 5? The lady sure doesn't like this dishonourable behavior

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>5954431
>Bo5
QM sweating
So am I

>>5954491
>18
Too old.

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>5954431

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>5954507
Fuckin kino. Chad is back. Hella based.

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>5954552
Ignore this if you want qm. But I want you to have 5 rolls since you asked

>>5954431
>>5954457
>>5954621
YEAH! 2 rolls with 97.... that's impressive.

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>5954431
actually....


>>5954621
I just realized that this isn't connected to the post. I'll roll

Rolled 8 (1d100)

Lets keep rolling for that sweet 100

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>5954676
Sure, lets keep rolling /s

>>5954507
My hero

>>5954676
>>5954709
KHOOOOOORNE!

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It was death. A contraption that Lucian could barely comprehend and that no mortal artisan would have considered was simply the dealer of annihilation. Surely the Dwarfs would have wanted to create something like that, but even their radicals would never have dreamed up a weapon so massive. By the gods themselves, they could not even create something that large even if they tried.

Yet in the hands of an Ancient who had been in existence since the Gods walked the Old World, it was there. Crafted and ornate, ready to strike him down.

In this single moment Lucian prayed. He did not pray to Morr, for the God of the Dead could not provide protection. This weapon was a weapon of other gods, and those Gods would surely guarantee his death if Morr would have rejected it.

No, the Knight prayed to the patron of all Knights. For here in this moment, Grimidal was committing the greatest of violations against Chivalry. Here he was to lose and in a moment desperation draws a firearm in hopes that the fight would be lopsided in his favor. How could the Lady of the Lake sit aside and allow this to happen, allow this fool to violate their ancient tenants!

It was a fool’s prayer. A prayer that had no hopes of being answered. As the hammer of the weapon came down and struck such a large spark that it would have ignited a forest fire came, there seemed to be no hope. No hope for safety, no hope for salvation, no hope to save Bretonnia from the Vampires of Nagash.

As the firearm ignited, when Lucian’s eyes was being filled with light, he saw it. A small arrow, whose size was dwarfed by the Demi-God, flew through the sky. Carried on by the winds of faith, Lucian saw as the dishonorable Grimidal be struck by the folly of his own hubris.

The arrow struck him cleanly in the right eye, the eye he looking upon Lucian with. Two mighty roars cried out as black powerder ignited and the giant was struck true by a perfect arrow. All at the same time Lucian felt the winds of the Lady’s Protection flush by him with an onrush that was unbelievable to experince.

He could not see it as he was blinded, but Lucian could feel as the Lady’s winds carried the lead ball the size of a hovel to the left of Lucian. Slightly diverted it was thanks to the intervention of a fateful arrow, it was well within the Lady’s might to banish the munition into the ground next to Lucian.

Yet all damage could not be avoided. The impact of the lead ball sent Lucian and Nightshade flying across the earth.

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The world was a loud pinging noise. A powerful stinging that the Knight had never had the experience of feeling and did not even have enough mind to pray against it. What he knew was what his body, and in a sense the magic flowing through it, what he should do. He needed to rise! He needed to get on his damned feet and face down the mighty monster that was a threat to all those in the Old World!

His feet were shaky. So many muscles pulled and veins ruptured as he balanced himself upon his scythe.

Sense were returning. The dust filled air brushed against his bare skin. The armor that the Knight had been wearing had been blown apart from both the explosion and being thrown against the earth. It was the cost for his survival, the leather being strung across the battleground.

He could not see. His eyes were seeing nothing but bright lights and was fuzzed. Through the fuzz was nothing but a fog of dust that brushed against his exposed back. He had to leverage himself upon the scythe, keeping himself upright all while marching through the fog.

What was happening around him Lucian did not know. All he knew was that he needed to move forward. Nothing else mattered in a battlefield except that he needed to keep moving. Standing by oneself was simply aksing to be cut down where they stood. When they moved they were less likely to be challenged.

As Lucian thought this the Knight’s foot hit something. It felt massive and somewhat soft, like a lump of flesh. As he reached his hand forward and touched the massive thing infront of him he knew instantly was it was.

It was Grimidal. The Giant was toppled to the ground and must have suffered a great injury. Unlike Lucian he had been losing blood throughout the entire battle. So adding a head injury was probably enough to stun him for a long time.

Yet he would not stay down.

So the Knight began to climb, soon rolling onto what he was guessing was the shoulder. Here his vision slowly came back, away from the smoke, to see the many faces of the giant trying to bite him.

Yet they could not stop Lucian as he walked over to the Giant’s neck, ending it all with one fell stroke.

>Darkness takes hold
>Declare victory for all to hear
>Simply watch as chaos takes the camp

>>5954877
>Decalre victory, In the name of our oath and the blessings of our gods.

2/3 Down. The others are gonna flip when they hear this.

>>5954877
Screw all that
>Run, walk, limp, crawl on all fours, slither, ANYTHING to Bok's aid

>>5954877
>Declare victory for all to hear
>Then pass out our job has been completed.
>Bok will have fun mopping them up.
>Hopefully the elf fren will drag us out (I hope it's a elf)

>>5954877
>>Declare victory for all to hear
Intimidate the fuck out of the Chaos scum, (hopefully they'll run away and that'll save Bok)

>>5954877
> Declare victory for all to hear
Hopefully they are so scared of us they just run away to the other camps.


Some additional things;
- tend to Bok and Nightshade
- give thanks to our deities
- try to recover any Royarch remains (perform rites if we can) and recover the banners/artifacts
- if we had our dwarf or lizard friend with us I’d suggest that they go looking for runes and stuff but I suppose we’re not familiar enough to recognise anything
- where did the arrow come from? The Lady herself or is there an ally nearby?
- destroy the giant gun so we don’t get in a situation where it goes missing and we have to track it down

>>5954888
Might be Adok with a crossbow or a Albionian

>>5954877
>Declare victory for all to hear
"I bring death in the gods name. You will all die norsemen, this island will never be yours."

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As Lucian removed his scythe from the neck of the Giant he once again steadied himself upon the scythe. Below him was roughly four feet worth of muscle and tissue severed apart to reveal a vein that was nearly as large as Lucian. It was like a spring, how the blood flowed out of the wound.

He straightened himself. In this moment he could not show weakness, he must show that he is beyond stronger than any of them. If he was weak, then those bottom feeders would come to end him.

“Damned worshippers of Chaos.” Lucian spoke as he raised his head towards what he thought was the ceiling. In truth it was hard to know where he was looking thanks to the dust and dazzling lights dancing across his vision, “My blade has brought downed the damned Grimidal!”

Lucian felt the winds brushing by his face as vision seemed to slowly return. The place was so much more dim than what he wished for, but it was bright enough for the Knight to see the numerous faces of cowering Norscans looking at him in wonder.

“I bring death in the name of Morr and the Lady! Albion is not and will never be yours.” Lucian told the assembled crowd with a yell that commanded them to act, “If you value your pitiful lives then flee, for the retribution of the True Gods is in order!”

That was enough. Lucian watched as like a tide the Norscans began throwing themselves over one another. Their fear was palpable, a tinge of salt that tastes like ashes when it touched the senses. An acceptable taste for such lowly peoples.

Lucian could hear the roar of Bok as the Kroxigor swiped at the numerous warriors that were running by it. He did not give chase though, his body covered in so many scars that he would only hurt himself far more chasing down such men.

Lucian had to keep himself standing as he witnessed these fools run. Not a single moment could he relent and simply sit, he had to stand there as a Symbol of the Gods against these ungodly creatures.

The only saving grace Lucian had as he stood was something slowly drifting down from above. Carried on the winds of the gods was a single banner who hosted a great lion upon it. The Knight held it within his hands, the Banner of a Royarch, the last of what remains of his King.

There, Lucian felt it appropriate, he felt it was time to kneel. Not because of exhaustion, but in prayer. That the Soul of a Grail Knight should pass on to the Lady as it should.

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However long he was there he did not know. A dulled mind was not a good thing when it came to trying to keep one’s sense of time stable. So when he rose to see that the Norscans had all but remained within the overhang it was clear that enough time had passed.

It was a struggle to get back onto his feet from prayer. Yet it was not impossible. The scythe was his balance, with the Banner of Bretonnia resting on his shoulder. Lucian rolled onto the backs of his feet and then settled himself forward so that he rested comfortably upright.

“You fooled them quite well, human.” The voice came from behind Lucian. A soft, unbecoming voice that was like music to his ears and would have enchanted him instantly. He should have at least suspected someone was behind him but he had not heard any footsteps behind him.

Something told him there was little to worry, so he turned himself about.

Before him was a beauty that could not be understated or misunderstood. Her clothing appeared to be of the finest silks and colored with a beautiful blue and white that reminded the Knight of the night sky. Looking upon her face Lucian knew instantly that she was not human, features that was too beautifully long and a pair of prominent pointed ears were born upon her head.

A Fay, an Elf. One such person in the flesh standing before Lucian upon the corpse of a fallen Demi-God of Chaos.

“Has Chaos taken your voice?” She asked simply, closing up to examine Lucian with an inquisitive eye.

“Maiden.” Lucian decided to say as he gave a bow. He could feel himself in pain as he did so, “I… I am Lucian of Bretonnia. A Questing Knight who carries the title of Harbinger of Ruin. Was it… your arrow that saved me?”

“My arrow was guided by Lileath, the Goddess who I serve. She had gifted onto me portents and dreams of what was to happen here today. That with a single stroke of my bow I both save a virtuous man and bring down a great evil.” The Elven Priestess said as she studied Lucian, “She does not lie, you are as I was shown.”

“I give a prayer to Lileath then. A prayer to her and the Lady of the Lake for saving me from the death that was almost certain to come for me.” Lucian said as he bowed his head for prayer.

“You are heavily injured, if you should follow me I shall take you to a place of healing.”

>Take her up on the offer
>No, we travel to the Temple of the Lizardmen

>>5955675
>Take her up on the offer
Only if our companions get to come get healed as well
I forget how elves view lizardmen
Otherwise lets keep it moving to the temple

>>5955675
>If Bok may be healed also.

Respect the bros.

>No, we travel to the Temple of the Lizardmen

Want that sweet sweet Grail Knight regen.

>>5955675
>Take her up on the offer
If Bok can also be healed.
Explain to her what we are here for and the names of our companions, some conversation is nice and i think its the bare minimum for saving our life. Perhaps she has seen Adok or Tyny ? And thank her for saving us, it wasn't just the gods that aided us. And ask her name.

2/3, on to the next monster/tyrant. Too bad we can't aid Adok or Tyny tasks here in Albion at the moment. Remember : a knight that does not heal, cannot be in battle for long.

>>5956135
We should also send word to the barony we just left after we heal up.

He will realise when the next attack doesnt come. But still

>>5955675
>>No, we travel to the Temple of the Lizardmen
No, bros before hoes.
We have to find tiny teenee or get Bok a new one

>>5955675
>No, we travel to the Temple of the Lizardmen
>I would but my Oath pushes me to take my friend Bok, To his temple. Hopefully his Skink is already there.
>Check on our horse.
>Set the place on fire to destroy the norscans taint from this land.
>Desacrate the norscan shrine put one up of morr and the lady and scratch the dwarf rune into the ground.

Take her on the offer
>>5955744
>>5955767
>>5956135

We run to the Lizardmen Temple, NOW
>>5955873
>>5956244
>>5956299

Someone needs to tie break

>>5956504
Easy answer.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5956507
Fucking.

And for context, I am >>5955767

>>5956504
>TEMPLE NOW

>>5956509
Temple it is

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Lucian thought about it, accepting the fact that he was beyond what men should experience. So much of his flesh was damaged from the fights that he should take the weeks it would be to heal and recuperate. And even if she could shrink it down to just a day, there were those that still relied on him.

“No, we need to move forward.” Lucian told her as he stood tall to try and mask the injuries he had, “We are to march towards the Temple of the Lizardmen, their sanctuary in these lands. That is why I am here and where I hope to meet with the allies that I have lost.”

“How would they knew where the Temple of Kontuata would be?” She asked with a great amount of skepticism.

Lucian raised his hand towards the giant that was Bok, “That one had a Master known as Tee-Nee-Tyny. He is a Skink, a member of their race. He was my guide until we were separated in a ship-wreck.”

“So you say…” She studied Lucian with what must have been deep thoughts of skepticism. If she was looking for a lie in those words Lucian was not going to satisfy her quest to prove that he was a fraud. He was simply too tired to give a care on that matter anyways, and she would have to prove it to herself.

“Very well, but know that I cannot bring you to full health while we are on the road.” She told Lucian as her eyes once again studied his injuries, “Lileath has sent me on this mission, but she did not send me to die on your behalf.”

“That…” Lucian felt a tinge of pain course his body as he spoke, “is okay. Do as you will, I do not bind you to defending me. I only need a guide from someone like yourself.”

“And I will give it.” She said while tapping her long staff on the flesh of Grimidal. Lucian noticed that the staff was a rather long one that had at the tip a crescent moon tilted into something of a smile.

“It is my dishonor and weariness that I yet asked you, what is your name?” Lucian finally asked.

“Sellalli of the Moonlit Path.” She spoke with what Lucian swore was a slight glow to her ivory skin, “Come, if you are so begging to face death you shall not dally.”

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With those words they got to moving. When the two of them came to Bok the massive beast of a Kroxigor was covered from head to toe in the blood of both man and himself. At his feet were the broken remains of a half dozen Chaos Warriors, their size and girth meaning nothing when faced with the mighty monster that was Bok.

It was after gathering the beast that they went over to find Nightshade.

“Nightshade!” Lucian cried out as he walked over to the side of his steed.

The mighty horse was covered in dozens of wounds and clearly suffered more than Lucian. One of its legs was knocked out of alignment, shifted sharply to the side. Those quakes of the earth, those blasts that shattered the earth itself.

The blast from the ancient gun the size of a tower…

Even with all the blessings that the Lady had given Lucian the might of a Demi-God was not to be underestimated.

“Your steed appears to be clinging to life.” spoke Sellalli as she kneeled at the head of Nightshade, “It still breaths but will not walk in its life. Not anymore.”

Such a thing, Lucian knew, was expected when it came to having horses. Yet Nightshade had gone across hundreds of miles of Bretonnian Countryside and through the Gray Mountains. While death did come for them all, there was a brutal utility to the Lucian having a mount.

“So there is nothing you can do for her?” The Knight asked the Elfen Mage.

“I could heal her, but then that would rob of what little healing I had planned for you.” She said as she glanced at Lucian, “If you wish to spend that little bit for your mount than I can do so. But we should let her pass onto Lileath’s domain instead.”

>Heal the horse
>We shall let the Horse pass on

Horse would have survived on a nat 1, but otherwise you were facing a demi-god.

>>5956576
>We shall let the Horse pass on
Old yeller nightshade

>>5956576
>>We shall let the Horse pass on
I don't want to push her into MORE extremes... let her pass, Lucian with catch up to her in less than a year anyway

>>5956576
>Let Nightshade pass on.
You were the best we've ever known and died avenging a king. Rest well Nightshade.

So we could have healed her, had we intended to rest and recover. Oh well, means little to me either way.

>>5956619
I mean it would have been instead "Do you want to spend 2+ weeks healing the horse?"

Also I was figuring out how to write this out since it was something I was thinking about.

>>5956576
>let her pass
>give her morr blessing and bury/burn her.(not sure what's morr practice is.

>>5956631
Yes?

Why would that even be in question? I truthfully don't get why we are in such a rush anyway, but such is life. We are now, so let nightshade die. We will get another steed when we ascend.

>>5956631
I mean if she wants to keep the horse and heal it...

I assume bok can find the temple.

>>5956576
> Heal the horse

>>5956576
>We shall let the Horse pass on
We have more important things to do, like regain the graces of Morr and ascend to become his champion on the world. We have probably lost the Aspect we gained of his, too. So we have to regain it and then work on gaining his other Aspects.
Let Nightshade embrace the earth, she was a good horse for a mortal. Her sacrifice was not in vain.

>>5956670
Bury, Khaine burns.

>>5956776
Bretonnia is currently being invaded, pillaged, burned. Especially the north and Couronne is heavily besieged, since the Royarch and the royal army where defeated by norscans. On top of this with no King, chaos is spreading in every Duchy and all manners of monsters and enemies have come out rushing at the opportunity (the royal line had only a princess, no male heir apparently).
The rest of the Old World is not in a great place either, and Morr pretty much hinted that the undead are doing a great plot and moving/raising great numbers, and we have seen this through the quest. So we need to get moving, thats the rush and we need to have an army of Albionians at our back when we return to Brettonia in the north. Preferably our friend/rival Gillot will also raise an army and unite with us. We will probably go to the Empire afterwards, toward the Vampire Counts, since the imperials will likely need help and we can so slaughter the undead hordes.

>>5957023
>We never got to have more dreams
>We had one (1) dream at the beginning of the quest
yeah

Gilliot must become king!
By fucking the royal princess!
I hope he is doing okay, holding back the demon sword... yeah, whatever, every hero that has a demon sword does FINE

>>5957023
They can all wait two weeks for our horse to be healed, Ignoring howeber long it took for us to get our health back. Rushing off to die after facing a giant demigod chaos champion as a mostly mortal man is foolish as shit and if we go to this temple and decide to heal up, imma he mad.

>>5957122
Guys we don't need her to escort us. How about she keeps the horse. And we use bok to get to the Temple. He definitely would know how to find it. We'll heal on the way.

I mean I doubt there's another chaos demigod around we'll be fine.

>>5957210
We WON'T heal on the way, because we will be moving about on broken bones and rubbed raw skin.

She coming with us is the only reason we will partially heal, because she is using magic.
If we wanted to heal up to full, more people should have picked the "lets go to a place of healing". Please read the options you vote for.

>>5957023
Oh by the way.

>The royal line only had a princess

The thing here is that apparently every king of brettonia HAS to be a Grail Knight, and they are assigned by the Fey Enchantress who acts as the mouthpeice of the lady.
So the Royal household isn't hereditary in it's succession, it's appointed to each knight by the enchantress.

Just some information for readers of the quest.

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The Knight placed the scythe on the ground next to him, walking forward with a soft caution in his steps. It took five of these graceful steps to reach the downed steed, after which he kneeled next to its head.

His hand graced the neck of the mighty beast. Blood from her injuries spattered all across his hand. Taking in a sigh he took her head form the elf and spoke, “Thats enough Nightshade. I release you from service, go on to the next life.”

As if she heard and understood his words, the subtle breathing that the Knight felt on his hands was gone. Her chest, which was rising and lowering, had stopped. The beast had finally allowed the ghost to take its life.

“You did not hesitate.” The woman said as she studied Lucian closely, “This was the steed you rode into chaos itself yet you released it so willingly. Why?”

“Because Morr had made it clear it was her time had come.” Lucian answered the Elf as he gave a soft prayer, “It will be up to the Gods if I am to receive a new steed in due time, but we cannot dally on the injured or the dead for long. My homeland, Bretonnia, is under assault by the forces of Chaos. We cannot linger.”

“Daemons upon your heels.” The Elf said as she rose to her full height. This close the Knight could confidently say that she was roughly as tall that he was. And Lucian knew that he was relatively tall when it came to Bretonnians and mankind in general.

“Bok.” Lucian called out as he tucked the horses head into his arms, “Help lift.”

On command the puppet acted. Bok walked over and with his immense size lifted the steed up from the middle and began carrying it. Lucian wondered if the Kroxigor would have simply ate the horse, but Bok must have had his filling of Chaos meat instead.

They traveled until they were outside the influence of Chaos, where the taint no longer scorched the ground. There a quick hole was dug, one that was roughly three feet deep, before they settled the horse into the pit and covered it.

There they rested for an evening, Sellalli began the healing of Lucian and Bok’s wounds. Lucian remarked that things were slow but it was happening. They could move, and that was good enough for Lucian.

When night was over they left after the Knight gave a final prayer. Northwards towards a lone mountain.

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They did not talk too much on the first day of travel through Albion. It was nearly immediate though how lost they were walking through the forests of this island before meeting the High Elf. Where Lucian thought there were no paths she would find one, where he would have gone in one direction she took them on a completely different one.

Sometimes she would take them through the trees where the canopy was thin or the thickness of the outcropping was little. He swore that there was not a single moment in their travel that day that they had lost sight of the sun which danced above their heads.

It was because of this Lucian knew that they would not meet any of the Chaos Warriors that they had scared off. Those creatures and men prefered to be hidden amongst darkness. The sun was a bane against them, purging the sickness of Chaos off of their skin.

Lucian knew as the sun lowered itself towards the ground that they had doubled, no, tripled the distance either he or Bok had traveled previously. Their wits not a match for what was a mistress of the fay.

The fire was started as the sun dipped, the game provided by Bok who had thrashed a great amount of the deer he had caught. How a Kroxigor was so effective at hunting Lucian did not know, but he knew that its powerful nose and senses were of great help tracking down anything within these woods. He had to finish cleaning the beast but it would be enough for them all to eat from.

As the meet cooked over the fire the Knight looked over to see the elf looking up towards the moons. Lucian could see the same thing that she was looking at, the waning Mannslieb and waxing Morrslieb that looked almost wicked in the skies above.

“We will arrive at those temples in three days. When we do, the Dark Moon will be in full ascendance.” She spoke openly.

“It seems the Dark Gods knew that their Champion was to fall, and let him.” Lucian said as his eyes turned towards it, “We will be welcomed but a greater evil at the Temple.”

“Do you not fear that which we might find?” The Elf asked simply, “If we are to arrive at the grinning glint of Morrslieb, then it will be an even greater battle than the one you just had.”

>So be it
>Good, I was waiting for this chance
>We don’t run towards death because we want, its because we must
>Morrs Decides.

>>5957402
>So be it. I have placed my life in the hand of the God of the Dead since I was young, trusted him and his priests. Now that I serve as his champion among my other patrons, how can I worry for what I will face? It is his decision alone which calls me, no false god or empowered puppet

>>5957435
>supporting the dank write in
>>5957402

>>5957402
>So be it. I have placed my life in the hand of the God of the Dead since I was young, trusted him and his priests. Now that I serve as his champion among my other patrons, how can I worry for what I will face? It is his decision alone which calls me, no false god or empowered puppet
That being said, would it kill morr to loan me a horse for this next fight

>>5957402
>>Good, I was waiting for this chance
The enchantress has smiled on us! The lady's favour is here, I know it.

Now... we only have to appease Morr.
First we charged that chaos spawn in a frenzy.
Second we avenged the king and fell the Father of all Giants A wonder how he destroyed himself with the cannon huh?
Thirdly we will face the undead again...

>>5957402
>Morrs Decides.

>>5957402
>>So be it. I have placed my life in the hand of the God of the Dead since I was young, trusted him and his priests. Now that I serve as his champion among my other patrons, how can I worry for what I will face? It is his decision alone which calls me, no false god or empowered puppet
good lets go

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“So be it.” Lucian said as he looked down from the moon and towards the fire dancing infront of him, “I have placed my life in the hands of our God of Death since I was young. I trust him and none of his priests had led me astray. Now I serve with devotion as a his champion along with a great many patrons, so what is there to worry for?”

Lucian picked at the fire with another stick. The branch was still wet, fresh wood taken from the nearby forest off a tree. The one next to him said nothing. The elf simply studied him for the time that he needed to think everything through.

“It is his decision alone which will call me now. No false gods or empowered puppets will be the ones to bring me down. When Morr calls for my life I will answer it.” Lucian answered finally.

Sallelli glanced turned from Lucian to the fires. She did not seem to have anything to say to Lucian’s devotion to his Lord. Simply examining the fires that danced infront of them as it liked the air like a multi-tongued beast. A beast that was fed by dead tree-flesh.

“You are morbid.” She finally answered.

Lucian glanced at her with a nonsensical glance, “You told me that we are marching towards our death and asked if I was okay with that. If you ask even the greatest Grail Knight they would give you the same answer, except their souls are guided by the Lady of the Lake.”

“In my studies I wonder if that is the case.” Answered the Elf as her face tightened. Lucian had taken the chance to glance at it and to see her skin stretching was unnerving the knight. It showed him just how otherworldly she was, “Lileath gives potence of the future, not change it. In our temples we argue that what we are shown is not something that can be avoided but what will happen. Others say otherwise, that even if that is the case she shows us the future because we should act on that future.”

“Omens, prophecy, and potences are hardly clear enough to know what they mean.” Lucian told her, “Perhaps you are simply too sure in your interpretation of them.”

The eld glanced at Lucian with a sense of suspicion in her eyes, yet the Knight did not let it bother her. From what he knows and learned, prophecy is never what you think it is. Simply take what the gods show you and commit to it.

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When Lucian awoke, the first thing that he felt was a set of chains dangling from his hand. On reflex he pulled on then, seeing if they would ever grow daunt as he did so. They did, sort of, like a goblin was pulling on the other side of the chains. They were trying to hold him down, keep him down, so that the Knight could not rise to the challenge.

He pulled hard, an immense strength flowling through his body as he did so. Yet instead of a Goblin on the other side of those chains was an Ork, a massive beast who was now fighting against him to keep him down.

Yet it was not strong enough. He felt a subtle give that was just enough for the man to rise from the first and stand upon his own two feet. Upon his two feet, where he stopped fighting against the Orks on the other side of the chains, did the Goblins take the chains instead.

He was in a village. A hovel of homes that was numbering no more than ten from Lucian’s sight. They were in a forest but the forest was not nearly as thick as the forests of Albion. One could say that the forest was cultured like this through the generations of peasant farmers who worked the trees and took a great many saplings for home use.

Now that he studied, as if they were appearing before his very eyes, was the villagers working handily at the forest and the nearby fields. Each of them were worn down, a trait marking them as the peasants of Bretonnia.

His eyes moved from them and towards a dirt path. It was not the most well worn path to say the least, for the path was only trotted by the members of this village. No outsider, let them be Merchant, Knight or Taxman, ever came to this village.

Yet Lucian glanced to see where the chains came from. From beyond the trees Lucian had to guess, for there was no end to them he could see. Only that on both his wrists were chains that led in the same direction.

>Inspect the village
>Take the path to town
>Follow the chains

>>5958188
>Follow the chains
In todays episode:slavery

>>5958188
>Chainź

>>5958188
>>Follow the chains

>>5958188
>Follow the chains
Morr dream aspect?

>>5958188
>>Follow the chains
I am impressed we are all discarding the village and town, going for what binds us... I presume that the more we try to pull to one side, the more "Orks" will be holding us down, with the other arm going slack...

Is this about learning to live like this, chained; constrained? Going about your life despite it, doing everything people expect of you, with more difficulty than what should be?
Changing my vote to
>>Village

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These chains…

It wasn’t hard to bring them into his hands and balance the links within his hands. His eye looking at them with a stern appraisal. They were heavy, like those see on mighty ships. WHile underneath they were the silver shine of freshly made chains they looked to be covered in green algae.

So he began trailing it. In doing so the chains began to slacken themselves against the ground during his walk. Yet as he walked out of sight of the village and towards the origin of these chains they began to rattle underneath him.

Slowly they began to be drawn away from him and towards their origin. Like a man handling a steer, Lucian got a feeling in his gut that doing this was only going to bind him that little bit more. Perhaps it would make it harder to escape what was holding him down.

It was roughly five minutes of walking, but the first thing the Knight noticed was the smell of salt water. Getting just that little bit closer gave Lucian the sounds of waves crashing against rocks. Breaching the treeline Lucian saw the ocean before him.

It should not be here. He knew that the village he was stood at was Verac before it was demolished by the Vampire. That he lived in Aquitaine which was so many leagues from the Ocean that it hurt Lucian’s brain just seeing it so close.

The chains, called upon by an known force, snapped alive.

The Knight was suddenly ambushed by the force and power of these chains. Their strength many times greater than what he had previously experienced. It was not a Goblin or an Ork pulling against him but an entire mountain fighting against his person.

He was weakened by the weight of the chains. The Knight found himself pulled into the waters by the will of he who governs them. There was no fighting them the moment he went into the water for there was nothing to fight with. His hands constrained by the chains and his feet without solid ground, the Knight was embraced by the waters of the deep.

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He was like a fish lured and drawn by the fisherman. How he knew these chains were anything but that the Knight did not know, but what he knew was that the chains were rushing him to the deepest parts of the ocean.

It was a mighty fight to keep his breath. Every second he was battered and bashed with the threat of death when he released his lungs to the waters. He could not really think for the terror of it all was making itself known to his flesh. It was a fight just to keep it under control while also making sure it did not drown.

Then, as suddenly as it started he was stopped. He could feel himself for a moment being drawn up like a sardine with his hands dangling above himself. An unseen eye looking upon him in examination. It was a threat to his life, yet he could do nothing as he was but a mere thing to the deity before him.

In a moment where Lucian should have experienced death, he felt something shift. A slight glow above his head. It was a dancing white moon of the night, its mighty rays glaring upon the two of them with all intensity.

“Leave us.” The water said as Lucian felt its anger begin to boil, “He is mine to judge.”

The light began to grow stronger as if it was getting closer.

“I do not care for deeds upon land. He is a fool who is mine.”

The waters around them began to shift. From below him the earth itself seemingly rose to meet his feet. Then, as fast as he went down, he began rocketing through the waters.

“HE IS MINE!” The chains tensed once again, slamming Lucian into the earth below.

“No, he is mine.” A deathly voice spoke from the earth below Lucian, “You cannot cheat me.”

The lights were so close that it covered all of Lucian’s vision through the water. With just that little bit of slack in the chains was enough for the Knight to breach the water’s surface and see the moon hanging over his head. His eyes glancing the Knight recognized it as a lake. A place where he had committed his vows for this journey upon.

>Give a prayer
>Walk to the shore
>Taunt Mann

>>5959110
>Taunt Mann
>I will never be yours!

>>5959110
This is the Ire of a god, Huh?
Seriously, Who the fuck does Mann think he is? Competing with Morr alone is retarded, The Death god is the brother of the King of the gods and one of the most powerful full stop.

But then arguing with "The lady", who is an elder god of even more dizzying age and potency. Over the SAME mortal.
What gives him any idea that his claim has any power.


>Walk to the shore
>Pray and renew our vows.
We can try and mend the bridges with Mann with an apology, but I honestly dont care too.

>>5959187
>>5959110
>support

>>5959110
>Give a prayer
Is the lady a god of lakes or does she just live near small bodies of water?

>>5959187
Maybe being so powerful in the sea has got in to his head. He is quite distant to mortals in comparison to other gods. Even Taal, the deity of nature cares for them.

We could try an apology or offer him to kill someone evil that did something bad to him. He seems very angry though so meh (the holy beast he did send against us also looked chaosfied a lot...things are changing.. )

>>5959110
>Walk to the shore
>Pray and renew our vows.

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Lucian walked his way through the waters, the little clothing on his back still waterlogged by the sheer depths of ocean that he was dragged through. Yet the smell of the sea did not rest upon him, for what reason Lucian had a guess.

His feet found purchase on firm ground. The edge of the lake did not have any sand on it. Unlike the oceans that he was dragged through his torn shoes dragged themselves through wet grass. It was a good feeling Lucian decided.

At the shore the Knight turned around and got onto his knees. He lowered his whole body so that it would tilt towards the waters that were laid out before him. Complete reverence and obedience, the Knight began to pray to the Gods. The chains that were still on his wrists dangling over into the water.

“Lady of the Lake, Morr of of the Dead, Grimnir of the Dwarfs, and Mann of the Seas.” Lucian spoke with his heart beating with hard thumps against his chest, “In my times I have traveled to these Misty Lands of Albion I have broken my vows. I wish to re-consecrate my vows, speak them once again so that all may hear.”

There was no response. Instead the Knight felt a subtle pain coming from his head with every word that he spoke. It would not stop him, but it was bothersome.

“I hereby swear, under the guise of the Lady and the Grail, that I shall show first penance for deeds committed against both my senses and blood. I shall not mistreat a lesser man upon my journey and each shall have the respect that they are due.” Lucian announced as he cowed himself to the waters, “Such shall be my Oath of Penance.”

There was no response except for the droplets of water that seemingly flowed onto his head.

“I hereby swear to Lay Low the Tyrants who are living within the Lands of Albion. Three great beasts shall I slay in those lands, and in doing so endear the people of those lands to Bretonnia.”

The droplets did not come from the water still on his person or a sudden storm of rain. The Peasant had felt this before, the injury that he sustained from the Vampire in his first fight. When his skull was cracked open.

“I shall swear, with my only release being Morr’s blessing.” Lucian answered as he felt the painful strike of the past going across his head.

When those words were spoken Lucian saw a bright light. He did not dare raise his head against these lights but he could not help but remember.

It was just like that one night.

As he basked in the light, those chains felt just that little bit lighter.

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When Lucian opened his eyes he was no longer at the lake. He was under a small canopy of trees that was so hidden in the forest that the elf Sellalli claimed that no one would be able to find them. In that the Knight had trusted her, giving them all a chance to sleep at the same moment within having to take shifts.

Through the Canopy of trees was a dark green haze that seemed to crawl across the ground. It was subtle and not very strong, but the Knight knew it as the moonlight of Morrslieb. The baneful light that could twist the bodies of great men into monsters of hideous forms.

Evil of the purest kind was that laughing moon.

Tomorrow she said they would arrive at the Temple of Konquata. The place where Tee-Nee-Tyny would hope to scry for the foundations of evil across the Old World and help Lucian in taking out the evils that threatened to grip the world.

It had cost him much. His mighty steed Nightshade lost against Grimidal. In truth it was a worthy price to lose her to the Giant. Morr was right to make the choice he did. Yet now he was a Knight without a Horse. Granted he was fighting without a mighty steed for a while but everything seemed right when he rode on the back of Nightshade.

When Lucian’s eyes rested down upon the earth he caught that should not have been there. He could not help but wipe his eyes just to glance again at what was lying next to him.

Blackened to the point that he had noticed it because of how dark it was, the golden rims of the armor shining their bright colors in spite of Morrslieb, was his armor. As perfect as the day he had received it, the armor bore upon it the mark of Dregni.

The Knight raised the breastplate over his head, thanking the gods for their gracious gift to him.

>Approach Loud and Proud
>Sneak about
>We can just walk in, see what happens

>>5960039
>>Approach Loud and Proud
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH BUDY
If only we had a decent weapon

>>5960039
>Approach Loud and Proud

>>5960039
> Approach Loud and Proud
Nobles don’t sneak. We can herald ourselves.

>>5960039
>March loud

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The statues of the lizardmen were tall and mighty obelisks of stone and craftsmanship. Lucian could tell that each of these were different in both their making and the symbols that rested upon each of them. Perhaps written upon their stone-flesh was riddles of how one made it to their hidden temples.

Shellalli however was not bound by such needs. With grace their elfish guide took them through the forests and over the hills to places beyond normal sight. Here there was little sunlight and many of times the statues of the Lizardmen were next to one another acting as guards to a path.

They were threats the Knight could guess. Threats to the outsiders. Threats to them.

Lucian was in a foreign land now. Far more foreign than even the lands of Albion already were. Here was the realm of the Old Ones, Old Gods that he was told were older than even those like the Lady of the Lake. To what truth that held Lucian did not know, but it did seem like they were indeed the Old Gods of this realm.

“We have arrived.” Spoke the Elf as she breached a curtain of branches. Lucian and Bok did the same, soon being welcomed by a sight to remember.

It was massive.

The Temple of Konquata reached for the stars. Its size was so great that it blocked out the sun which was setting behind it. Lucian would describe the temple as a series of steps that were next to one another in a fashion that seemingly went on forever towards the sky. Around it were massive pillars that scrapped the clouds themselves.

On all the dull red sculptures and steps were the vines that dangled on all of it. Shrubbery and pest plants that tried to overtake the magnificent structures. They did not succeed, instead accenting the display of awe and grandeur that such a temple could hold.

“I have brought you to the Ancient One’s Temple.” Spoke Shellalli as she gestured a hand towards the place, “Will you be wise and stay in the shadows or simply charge them like you did Grimidal?”

“If I hid then I would bring dishonor to the Lady and all who support me.” Lucian said as he looked towards Bok, “We march forward and announce our arrival. I thank you for your service.”

The Elf looked upon Lucian with a damning glare, “I will not share your fate then, annointed.”

With those words the Elf went back into the forest, disappearing from Lucian’s vision. Something told him though that she was still going to be around.

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“Von Carstein!”

The two of them, Bok and Lucian, had made their way through the magnificent temple with their eyes glancing at the beauty of it all. When they entered the Temple Bok seemed to have a direction set, likely the scent of their comrade now dancing upon his senses. Yet what Lucian did not know was why the beast was cautious still.

No, that would be a lie. The Knight knew full well why one would be cautious as Morrslieb began to crest over the Horizon. So at the steps of ziggarote the Knight spoke aloud.

“I am Lucian of Verac, the one you have failed to slay twice!” Lucian declared at the top of his lungs as he placed a step onto the temple’s base, “Now I am here, ready once more to challenge you. Today will be thrice you had attempted to kill me, and it will be thrice I will come out alive. Today though, I claim your life!”

The Black Knight placed his foot onto the first of many steps, “Face me!”

Lucian received his response in an instant. The howls and calls of wolves cried all around Lucian, announcing the intent of the mighty Von Carstein. It did not take long for Lucian to see the wave of monsters coming down towards him. Then, from their places where they hid from light of the sun, came pouring out from behind Lucian.

All kinds of monsters. Let them be the echoes of wolves or the twisted remains of men reformed into something more ‘manageable’, each of them were a terrifying aspect of what they had been in their previous life.

Lucian placed his next foot onto the steps, then began to climb. Behind him was Bok, its massive form shaking at the anticipation of a life and death battle.

It was time to fight.

>Charge towards the hordes coming from above!
>Grind them all down! Kill enough and they will crumble
>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage

>>5960658
>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage
lets save our energy for the boss

>>5960658
>Be tricky.

Just take out their feet and laugh as they tumble down

>>5960658
>>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage
I mean... tricky? Lucian will swipe at their necks and legs no?

>>5960658
>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage

>>5960658
>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage.

Make sure bok knows to stay too. Don't want him charging into them and getting surrounded.

>>5960658
>Be tricky, use the slope to your advantage

>>5960690
>>5960712
>>5960787
>>5960981
>>5961059
>>5961225

ROLLS! Bo3!~

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5961515
Lets go

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>5961515

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>5961515
SAVING THIS HTREAD

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The creatures came from all sides of Lucian, their fangs and long limbs looking for something meaty to rip apart. Their eyes were glowing red against the limelight of Morrslieb, a striking contrast that showed just how evil the power was which puppetted their corpses.

Lucian began his moved forward, the slope being steep did not inspire confidence within the journey that he and Bok were going to be making. Yet as he took a few more steps the ideas of what could be used against the others were already coming into mind.

The first upon Lucian were a pair of wolves with rotting fangs. Cavities of rot which had drilled themselves through the bone and out the otherside. So large they were that Lucian could see small bugs moving between the teeth and rotting gums.

He tried to move his scythe quickly but those monsters were quicker. A pair of fangs flying into his face within inches of his face flinging rotting spit and bugs into his face. The Knight could not cut it down quickly so he instead gripped the back of its neck. So torn and tender was the meat underneath that Lucian’s grip melted the flesh to get a hand onto the monster’s spine.

Then, with a push of forceful will, the Knight threw the offending creature towards the herd coming up behind him. The impact quickly sent three of their kind flying down the stairs that the monsters were still climbing up from.

Lucian did not get to watch the rest of the chaos he caused as he was assaulted by several others. His scythe now animated the Knight was cleaving through the beasts. Their chunks of flesh flew far, with hope that they would slam into the incoming hordes from below and across.

Yet the Knight felt annoyance as yet another came upon him. This one a limby monster that had gripped his scythe in an attempt to rip it out of his hands. With a punch in the face Lucian was able to bash the creature away before assaulting the next group.

He had to push hard and fast, which caused the occasional mistake. Each one of these the creatures threw themselves upon but not enough to bring Lucian down upon his knees. With the others being kept away far enough the Knight was able to approach the first landing.

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While at a distance one could not see it the temple’s steps gave way to a long plateau. A place where the servants of the Old Ones could erects pieces of worship as well as prepare for the next leg of their journey. Even those like Bok, who were clearly blessed by their gods, needed such places.

It was here that Bok first arrived, throwing and chewing through the last of the wolfish beasts that were assaulting them. Lucian was right behind him, throwing the last of the monsters down to give them just enough time to continue the assault.

Looking in front of him though Lucian only felt more anger.

There were roughly forty undead warriors, each of them erected in a formation that was five wide and four ranks deep. All were presenting to the Knight and his fellow a shield that was protecting their flesh from what was to be an incoming assault.

Upon seeing the two of them the group began their approach. Two formations of undead that were clearly meant to delay and tireout the assaulters from their battle. Their flesh dangling, Lucian could make out all the markings.

In some dreadful sense of damnation and unity was the undead both of Albion and Norsca. The Von Carstein having taken the dead of both sides under her control to make a force of undead that would kill Lucian and Bok. To allow her the great prize of ancient knowledge that was imbedded upon the very walls of Konquata.

Looking at it Lucian knew they could take them. As she was not nearby it was only a matter of how much damage the groups could take before disintegration. If it was going to take too long then perhaps the moment of triumph would be close at hand.

Such a reasoning Lucian thought had logic, for why else would she not be out here killing him in Morrslieb’s light? She was hoping for something. And she needed Lucian stopped.

>Fight them together!
>Go at them with Bok
>Ride Bok through them

>>5961568
>Ride through

They got shields, not spears. Fuck em up.

>>5961568
>Ride Bok through them
Power of friendship go!

>>5961568
>Ride Bok through them

>>5961568
>Ride Bok through them

Guess the gods answered our prayers. We had new mount.

>>5961573
>>5961587
>>5961774
>>5961775

Bo3, ROLLS!

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>5962248
Yeet

>>5962258
The gods have blessed our new mount indeed. Based.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>5962248

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“By the Gods damn them.” Lucian said as he watched the two regiments begin their advance towards them.

Each of them were locked in step, their left feet all coming down at the very same moment the others did. Such a movement was surreal and hard to look at for Lucian, for never in his life did he witness such an unnerving feat of precision done by man. Let alone these monsters wearing the bones of man.

One thing the Black Knight noticed though, was that none of these creatures carried spears.

“Bok!” Lucian shouted as he gripped the shoulder of the beast. It should have been hard for Lucian to leap as he did onto the back of the mighty Kroxigor but it was a simple and swift movement. His strength from so long ago returning as if the chains were slowly being lifted.

His hands were gripping a simple rope necklace that was dotted with small totems of golden figures. Each of them Lucian was sure represented some kind of Old One that the Lizardmen worshiped for they looked strikingly similar to those that were statues, engravings, and pillars all around him.

What mattered here was that the rope wrapped around Bok’s neck was strong. Strong enough to carry the full weight of a Knight as he settled his legs on the back of the mighty beast.

“CHARGE!!!” Lucian announced, “Run them down, crush them under foot!”

His bellowing got the Kroxigor moving with brutal speed. His claws were imbedded into the stone and them freed, giving a great amount of force and speed as he went on all fours. The impact was severe and shattering against the Skeletons, running several of their kind under foot as the monster rushed forward.

Lucian’s scythe was already animated. One after another the scythe went through the spawn and creations of Nagash with animated fury.

Three, five, eight! So brutal was the strike that the magic holding all the others was abused. A sudden combustion of Shysh winds crossed as the skeletons fell into pieces.

The second group did not fare better.

>RUN HER DOWN!
>Announce your arrival
>Try to recover your comrades

>>5962431
>Recover our comrades
This will be an honour duel, but first we need our friends to keep them clear.

>>5962431
>Try to recover your comrades bok
>we will run the vampire down.

I assume he will b-line to his skink. And we shall drop this fel creature down.

Unless there's a bunch of enemies on our comrades. Then we will of course save them. The undead will vanish if we kill her.

>>5962431
>Recover our comrades

>>5962431
> RUN HER DOWN!

Be done with it. Off with her head. It is Lucian’s way to not get worn down by the riff raff

>>5962431
>RUN HER DOWN!
If she was a tower, we are the plane

Recover a Comrade
>>5962436
>>5962541
>>5962596

RUN HER DOWN!!!
>>5962600
>>5962949

Rolls

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>5963198

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>5963198

Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>5963198

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Riding upon the top of a mighty Kroxigor was pure might. His mount was a creature far more dangerous than a simple horse, for it was a lizard capable of tearing and ripping apart the flesh of men and beast with a simple snap of its neck.

Those mighty claws made it easy for the monster to make its way over obstacles. Skeleton legions and warriors forming to block them were easily ran over by Bok and Lucian’s scythe was able to slay their kind with a sweep of the scythe.

Here they made their way towards the summit. On top of the Temple was what Lucian could describe as the main temple, a holding where the very gods themselves would have resided above their creations.

Their arrival was only in time for the Knight and Kroxigor had crushed through the last resistance. A group of skeletons who were wielding mighty swords and spears in their hands. A mix-match of tools that meant nothing to the two as Lucian quickly cut down those that wielded the spear.

There they crossed into the domain of the Old Ones, and it was glorious.

All about Lucian was fixtures of gold and jewels. The same intricate design of the Lizardmen which stood outside were multiplied and improved a thousandfold through the use of metallurgy and skillful craftsmanship. Many of them the Knight realized were actuals writings scripted across the entire foundation of the place.

In an instant Lucian felt the full weight of Bok move underneath him. The beast suddenly gaining a mind of its own as it charged towards the middle of the facility with the fury of its old gods.

The Knight saw them there. Lying upon the ground was Adok, the Dwarf stripped of his armor wielding only the hammer that he always carried. He looked to have been wasted, tossed aside as foul magics corrupted his very flesh and mind.

As the two of them came across the altar Lucian saw the reason for Bok’s sudden charge. Lying there was Tee-Nee-Tyny, his master, and the vampire of the Von Carstein bloodline.

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Lucian made a quick strike towards the vampire, the scythe a warding strike that would have killed great men if it had landed upon them. To the expectation of the Knight the strike instead was blocked by the vampire who raised their bare flesh to take the impact.

Just as he remembered it was like hitting stone. Hard as a rock and as immovable as a mountain. Yet it was to the Knight’s luck that she saw the effort was needed to block the strike. An effect that was not wasted as the claws of Bok were already wrapping themselves underneath the Skink.

As quick as they came Bok broke off in the direction towards the discarded Adok. The Vampire made a strike with her hand, getting a strike upon Lucian as they fled away. While the armor was strong and mightily made by the Dwarfs, the metal was still pierced by her claw.

When they arrived the Knight was quick to dismount, staring down the witch who had struck out against him. Her red eyes were glaring like daggers upon Lucian against the green light which leaked in from the open roof. Her mouth opened slightly to reveal the fangs that were underneath.

“You’ve saved me all the trouble of trying to find you.” She said as a pointed tongue licked her lips, “I am so close to gaining the secrets of the Old Ones, and yet you stand here trying to stop me.”

She glared at Lucian with a fiendish glare, “And here you once again standing between me and my prize!”

Lucian raised his scythe and gripped it tightly. He knew that there was going to be no help from Bok, for the beast was going to focus on preserving his master. Anywhere other than here was worse, so he will remain. As for the others, the Vampire seems to have had her way with them.

“I have made sure that you will not have any beasts to save you either.” She said while growing a smile, “You’re mine.”

Blood dripped from his arm as the Knight prepared himself for another fight once again. This time, there would be no monster to stop them.

>CHARGE!
>Try to keep distance, cutting her down
>Keep her at bay, keep her tied up!
>Other

>>5963399
>CHARGE!

>Morr shall find you this day you cursed beast. You are a mockery of the natural order of the world.

>>5963399
>Keep distance, We have a scythe. She has hands and maguc

>>5963399
>Try to keep distance, cutting her down

>>5963399
>CHARGE!

>>5963399
>Try to keep distance, cutting her down
If we had our good scythe I would've voted for charge, without it I dont think we can really win a charge.

>>5963399
>>Try to keep distance, cutting her down
>"I BRING YOU DEATH FOR ALL YOUR SINS !"

Charging
>>5963411
>>5963799

Distance
>>5963685
>>5963758
>>5963837
>>5963838

ROLLS!!!

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5963998
VICTORY OR DEATH, POSSIBLY BOTH!

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>5963998

>>5964013
Nah just victory fren. We about to body her badly.

>>5964087
>Lucien flailing around: "Help Help, Someone call the priests!"
>Suddenly cuts off a vampires hand: "But not for me!"

>>5964076
Someone get the last roll or I roll it.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5964195
Here

>>5961567
>>>A pair of fangs flying into his face within inches of his face flinging rotting spit and bugs into his face.
QM its been three years when tf will you read what you type

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>>5964241
NEVER!

Also its been more than three years. I think its somewhere in the realm of five.

>>5964241
Oy, you try writing shit everyday without some sort of errors. Shit happens. I'd understand if it was about some key bit of information but God damn. And even if it was a key bit of information you could always just ask for clarification.

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As blood leaked from his arms the Knight answered the vampire and her taunts, “I bring you death for all your sins, Vampire. Face them.”

“Calling my actions sinful,” The Vampire said as she began bracing herself, “I am above petty morality!”

With her callout the Vampire sent herself forward with a dash of speed. Speed was her advantage and she knew how to use it well against mortals who have all challenged her. Those who had no power or strength in their mind and flesh would have been at her mercy.

Yet as she came close the Knight felt his chest grow red hot. The run that was carved into his skin glowed through the armor, displaying upon it the Rune of Dregni. It was the Rune which represented Slayers.

The Slayers represented many things in Dwarfen Society. It is the ultimate penance for actions made against their gods and also the greatest honor a warrior could have ending their life. What Lucian stood for here was the third greatest reason for Slayers.

Vengeance.

The scythe came fast from the right. A blow that if it went swiftly through the vampire it would sever her head at the neck. A swift single lightning strike that would spell the end of the damned before the battle began in earnest.

No dishonor in this strike though. It was simply a blow that would mean death done right in front of the opponent.

The Von Carstein moved with fluid grace. Her arm came up in a blocking gesture with the expectation that the blow would simply bounce off her flesh like all others. There was credence in her thoughts for Vampire are quite resistant to physical attacks made by mortal men.

Era change though, and the supremacy of the undead shall be called into question.

The strike failed to go into the neck but instead embedded itself roughly three inches into her extended arm. The dead flesh showed no blood spilling from the wound, so no real danger to her life.

Yet as Lucian dislodged the weapon from her arm he was confident. Even without the blessed enchanted scythe of Adok’s making the Knight was more than able to injure her!

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Like a feline the Vampire’s face went wide to show the fangs in an attempt to terrify the mortal man. Vampires think themselves above the thoughts of flesh yet they cry, whimper, and scream just like all others. One could even say that they are less than man thanks to the bloody hunger they all endure.

Using her right hand the Annihilator of Verac extended it into a pair of claws. Where the Knight indeed had weapons that would harm the Vampire she did have the same. The blood running down his right arm was a reminder that even in this mighty armor the Black Knight was not invincible.

Quick as he could, Lucian extended his left hand in a fist. The screeching face of the demon was the target and she did not think to defend from a mortal’s punch. With the force of a Dwarfen Cannon it snapped the Vampire’s neck to her left, the Knight was well within a chance to make another strike at her.

This time he aimed for the chest. If the Knight had luck then he would have blown though her bosom and struck the heart. If there was truth in the words of deadmen, then the blow to the heart was needed to stun a vampire and give Lucian a clear chance to slay her.

Against the odds, those odds that mortal men are subject to, she rode the blow that would have sent her skull flying across the room and extended her arms into the air. A simple recovery quickly turned into a maneuver as the vampire rolled through the air back onto her feet.

Lucian did not give her the chance to keep distance. He had quickly closed the gap between the two of them with fire running through his veins. Her eyes glowed with the radiance of Shyish yet Lucian would not give her this chance. Not yet!

Another blow was made against her. This time the Knight was aiming for her right ribcage in the hopes of scoring that ever tempting heart blow. He could see her already twisting in a weird contortion of speed that rubbed against his sanity but the Knight had already seen the trick once.

Movement did rob him of the tempting blow but her was able to snag her stomach. In those heavenly moments Lucian watched as the blade slowly sank into her guts with only some resistance.

Then he felt it. The glow leaped from her eyes and right into Lucian. A purplish glow ripping into him as she darted away from the blow. It costed her several inches of her guts, but does a Vampire really need those?

No, Lucian thought, she likely does not.

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Whatever spell she had casted on Lucian was sinking into him. He could feel his flesh ache in pains and shiver as if a fever had taken him. It twisted his guts causing his mortal body to feel the nausea of a trip that has never been taken before. In his heart, in his very soul, Lucian could feel the magics working themselves against him.

It was not hurting him, not directly, for she had not yet been able to send such a spell. Instead she simply hexed him with a quick spell in hopes that it would save her unlife.

Lucian watched her hands reflexively run across her ruined dress where the wound Lucian had dealt her resided. He could not help but grin as she realized the Knight got a blow upon her.

“No mortal shall harm a Von Carstein!” She declared as her hands rose towards Lucian, “This was the truth Vlad told me and I shall prove him right! If it means killing all of you then I shall!”

Lucian leaped forward, his body unsteady from the Soulblight that she had placed upon him. The Ruin of Dregni and his own will was fighting the witchery, giving him plenty of strength to stand and fight for her. Yet when she extended her hands to strike down Lucian it looked so fast.

His experience from a great many battles involving beings greater than he flowed into his muscles. With only the strength of a mortal man who foolishly challenged a Jabberslythe, it was the experience of how he survived such an encounter. Lucian threw himself to the side and avoided the blow, getting just far enough away from the Vampire to make another strike, this time against her back.

It felt like hitting stone. An impossible feat. Yet he still committed himself to the strike and dug the blade deep through what he could that was upon her back. It was a distasteful but poignant display of his talents when the greater amount of her dress was cut in two.

As quickly as she came upon him she moved back, safe from the reaction of Lucian’s scythe when doing so.

“I tire of all this! I shall show you the power of the Von Carsteins! The Magics Vlad, our Father has taught. The magics that he was taught by none other than Nagash himself!” Shouted the Vampire as she basked in the light of Morrslieb.

Underneath his feet, Lucian felt the air begin to stir.

>RUNES
>WIZARD BATTLE
>WILLPOWER

>>5964296
>Prayer. Nagash has taught nothing but a mockery of true power. Morr let me send this cursed being into your embrace. If you find this to be a worthy endeavor. I shall carry out your will!

>>5964296
>Bolster Will with prayer.

>>5964296
>WILLPOWER
Magic is gay
Pray the gay away

>>5964296
>WILLPOWER
Lucian has GUTS and this undead scamp doesn't (heh)!!

Willpower with Prayer
>>5964397
>>5964503
>>5964660
>>5964751

ROLLS! You get 5 of them.

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>5965077
Only need 1

>>5965087
God fucking dayum. My rolls are on fire. Ultimate kek.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>5965077
Not gonna beat 4 but

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>5965077
>>5965148
Close tho.
Here comes the winner, however!!

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>5965077

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>5965077
Here's 5 unless another anon shows up.

>>5965087
>>5965148
>>5965278
Do you think she got the hint?

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Air began to move and death was ringing within the ear of Lucian. The magics of the witch quickly started to grow in scale and strength much against the Knight. The whistling of winds were the first indicator but the Knight knew full well that the end of the spell was not simply that. No, she will be sending forth a sorcery that was so grievous that it would turn his flesh into tatters and force the god of the dead to acknowledge the death of his champion.

So the Knight did the only thing that he knew which would defend him against such sorceries. Scythe balanced within his grip the Knight closed his eyes and spoke in a whisper, “Morr let me send this cursed being into your embrace. If you find this to be a worthy endeavor. I shall carry out your will!”

Upon the last of his words the world a colossal orb of purple and green light materialized underneath Lucian. It was a star that had once shined over the Realms of Nehekhara when mortal men walked those lands. Yet when the First and Greatest Necromancer Nagash decided it was so, he plucked the star from the very heavens themselves and corrupted it with all his foul magic.

The Purple Sun of Xereus, a demonstration of all the foulest magics that Nagash had to offer the world, was summoned once again on the mortal plane to kill the dreadful Knight who worshiped a proper death.

The magics began to shred into the flesh of Lucian and tear into it. The Armor of a Black Knight, crafted in the forges of Karak Ziflin, were but meaningless against the sun which ended civilizations. The spell tore into the armor just as it did the flesh of Lucian and began rending the metal apart with licks of death wind.

Lucian began to scream at the power. Everything that made him who he was was assaulted at the epicenter of the twister which emanated from the Sun of Xereus. There was no getting out of this twister. There was no living through this magic. He will fail to stop the magics which spelled the death of civilization itself.

He stood, his sight, hearing, and other senses robbed from him. It took all his strength of will to endure what cities could not. It would only be a few seconds more than a normal mortal, but would stand it if it meant he would face the one who threatened his civilization.

“Die already you cur! JUST DIE!” Screamed the Vampire as she empowered the twister so that Lucian’s world left him.

Of all the injuries that Lucian had experienced, the Knight felt his world shift as blood began running down the side of his head. It would seem that his skull had cracked.

Yet didn’t that already happen before?

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He could see it, a bright light that shined far greater than the moon. Morrslieb hanged in the air but here Lucian was laying on the ground. A concussive blow made against him where a peasant man was thrown against a rock by an angered vampire.

It was a simple event. The cracking of the skull was an injury that was rarely treatable. Even if it had, the man who had it shattered would fear for the rest of his lifetime that it would happen again. That his brain and spirit would spill out onto the earthen ground resulting in his death.

Yes, here Lucian should have died. The Vampire fleeing from whatever sick machinations she had started to enact in the very heartlands of Bretonnia he should have died.

Yet he did not.

It was such a blinding golden light that night. He could remember it so vividly as if it had just happened to him. But there was something else… Something that his vision could not see but his hearing could.

“He is strong, devout, and valiant.” Spoke a feminine voice as if it made its thoughts known to another, “I do not see any others who will accomplish what we seek.”

“His death arrives,” A voice that sounded like a bird attempting mockery spoke, “That is why we stand here before him. Do we falter from our duty?”

“Would you say that I faltered and made the wrong decision? When I embraced the Bretonni, was that a mistake?”

There was silence from the Raven. It did not caw a single word.

“I chose the Bretonni both because I knew their potential and that I had fallen in love with them. You can choose not to have him die, and it would not be against your tenants. This night a peasant did not die for the gods saw favor in his future.”

“Then he shall receive a drop of my marrow.” Spoke the bird, “I shall share, but he is mine.”

“He was yours from the start.” Spoke the Lady of the Lake let a thin stream of water fall upon the injured skull from a grail.

Magic ran through him, remaking his body to be much stronger than it already was. Skin thick enough to shake off blows, strength to withstand the magics of gods, and a capability to grow beyond mortality.

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The numerous scars and wounds that both the Jabberslythe and Grimidal had inflicted upon Lucian had been forced to reopen. Blood was gushing down the Knight and in truth he was kept standing because of the very star which tore him into pieces.

Yet magic was a matter of one’s willpower. It is said that if a man had greater strength of will than the wizard who casted the spell the caster was at great peril.

The Purple Sun of Xereus began to temper as Lucian found his senses. His hands both found themselves upon the scythe that he was given by the people of this realm. He felt the magics flow through him naturally and with a push of his will he ordered them to stop.

“What!?” The Vampire screamed as her hands began to glow a sickly green glow, “STOP! You are a mere Peasant! Beneath even a mortal! STOP IT!”

Lucian took one step as the twister tried to overwhelm him once again. He took one after another with a fine temper. The hex magic inflicted upon him began to melt away as he took his fifth step.

“Fool! FOOL! DIE ALREADY!”

“I am Lucian the Harbinger of Doom.” The Knight said as green witchfire began burning through the twister of damnation, “Morr my guide, I face evil as the Lady commands.”

With a final push of his will the twister dissipated leaving only the ruined armor of a Knight seen. Bloodied and mangled, the Black Knight still stood there with his chest held high and his heart bearing a furious rhythm of life.

With a push of his will green witchfire began to engulf the scythe with tinges of golden black light dancing. Magics from both the Lady of the Lake and Morr making themselves clear to the world to see.

A pact mixed into the blood of a peasant man for the rescue of both their realms. As the Gods of Prophecy, he was sent forth to do great things.

>How we want to do this? *Write in*

>>5965317
>"By their will and my hand, Die."
>Cleave our great scythe, and with a wrathful smite, Cleave her shoulder to waist, reverse the scythe and drive the butt of the Haft through her still beating heart.

Quick. Disarming. Utterly lethal.

>>5965317
Close the distance while she is still in shock that her attack failed. Do vampires die from their heart impaled in this setting? Or head cut off? Or both? Maybe head off first, then cut out/impale heart

>>5965335
>>5965317
>support

>+She burns from the green Litchfield and golden black light as she is reduced to ash.

>>5965430
*witchfire

>>5965278
that's a 3, not a 5

>>5965438
I was phone posting. I meant 5th roll. But you aren't wrong.

>>5965316
>Purple sun of Xereus
>Void magic
Talk about overkill... max silly if it randomly hits her as well. I wish we didn't dispelled the Void and pushed it to her, dragon ball tier with ki blasts. You know, when Vardoc does the thing? Or a hundred and one enemies do the death ball thing and goku defeats them doing the same thing? Dragon ball is a repetitive slop? No way...
>>5965317
https://youtu.be/8nXVBDVUWVU?t=80
>He all but discards his armor and starts fighting, manipulating his scythe without strenght but lithe skill. His skin torn and his muscles shred, a flick of his wrist is enough to make the scythe cleave into the vampire.

>>5965335
>>5965430
Support this two
And final touch.

>While she dies give a prayer of thanks to the gods and mourn our dead family, our vengeance has been completed : Verac murderer is dead and we can take a brief moment for the gods and Lucian. There is still many tasks ahead, but this moment
is of Lucian. Completely ignore her screaming and insults, the undead has been destroyed its unholy "immortality" gone. While she dies she will realize all the evil she did.

>>5966030
Oh yes +1 good idea.
>+ give morrs rites to the dead soldiers after we pray to the Lady to heal our friend adok.

[yellow]test

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The knight was quick on the advance now. He was prepared to take down the Vampire and saw that this moment. She knew it too, for her eyes were widening with freight as he came towards her in the dash.

“Fool! Do you realize how long I have lived for! I will not be killed by some peasant!” She shouted as the air between the two of them shuttered with raw magical energies. The magic then leaped forward like lightning towards Lucian, yet as it landed upon the Knight’s flesh he did not flinch.

She began running. All of the declarations and championing of her own kind, the Vampire began to run. Mortals perhaps would not have had such a problem and would have died with honor, but this vampire who called herself greater than the very mortal who does such deeds…

It disgusted Lucian.

“It is by their will and my hand,” Lucian said as he bounded towards her with a leap, “DIE!”

With speed that was almost inhuman Lucian was upon her. The Scythe, caught alight with witchfire, quickly ran through the stomach of the fiend. The flesh of the creature caught alight with the blackish gold green witchfire that began eating through the body.

As the monster’s body turned by the sheer force of the strike the Knight still in motion. Taking the weapon’s pummel, he struck it into her chest. A blow directly to her heart, the witchfire quickly rose throughout the entire body and began flowing out of her eyes in a blaze of holy fury.

Basking in the dimming light of Morrslieb the Knight watched as the Vampire’s features were once filled with complete fright. It was with these features that she was burned, becoming a charred body, then a skeleton with many long fangs, before finally becoming a pile of ash that smoldered with the green witchfire of Morr.

Over the remains the Knight kneeled, ignoring the great many wounds that he had sustained in the battle. With a single hand the scythe’s head was balanced on the ground, the other hand covering Lucian’s chest in a fist.

“Morr, Lady of the Lake, Grimnir, Lileath, and the family who I have lost.” The Knight spoke the names of all who had helped him reach this very moment and what was lost, “I have killed the Killer of Verac, the first calamity that befell my life. I have avenged those lost. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

For the longest time since he had gone on this quest, the Black Knight cried in mourning. He cried for those lost, and the purpose he had fulfilled.

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The Black Knight rose to his feet as the tears dried up. A prayer given to all who had fallen and thanks for the might he was given. He was about to move towards his friends, those that were but playthings for the Vampire, but then he saw the world had changed.

No longer was the light of Morrslieb dyeing the world in green light. Mannslieb, the white moon of tides, was high in the sky. Perhaps it was because of the defeat Lucian had committed against great evil that had scared off the moon. It was still hiding out there. The Knight knew this, but the night had definitely changed.

He noticed it then, the bird that was sitting at one of the many vines which seeked to overwhelm this temple to the Gods. It was a raven carrying a golden laurel.

Upon noticing the creature the bird flew off down the stairs. As it did, the golden leaves from the branch it carried slowly fell onto the ground as if it was a path.

A treaty with death? That was the guess that Lucian had when he saw the Omen. Clearly it was more than a simple omen though for it was trying to guide him. The Knight soon made his way towards his fellows and looked upon the condition of those he protected.

Tee-Nee-Tyny was wrapped in the arms of Bok. The Giant Kroxigor showing its many fangs as the Knight came close to them. It looked as though the Vampire had been torturing the body of the Skink with a great amount of magic, robbing him of what little vitality the body of the Skink had. He was still alive though, a steady breathing at the chest.

There Lucian made his way to Adok. The Dwarf was twisting and turning, clearly in a long induced sleep as he could not properly rest. There the Knight could see that the runes dotting his body had been damaged, likely because the Vampire needed to deface them to make the Dwarf weak.

There, when looking at the neck of the Dwarf, did Lucian notice the fangmarks that were embedded into a ruinous neck. She had her way with the Runesmith it would seem, using him as a blood bag on travels. It was demented but made sick sense, Lucian realized, for Dwarfs did indeed have a great vitality to them. If the Knight knew his lore of the undead enough, it also had mind altering effects on the one who was bitten. Adok still breathed though.

Getting his arms underneath the Dwarf, Lucian gave a mighty heave and pulled him up. Seeing him starting to move Bok did the same, holding Tee-Nee-Tyny in his hands to follow the Knight.

His friend in his hands and scythe on his back the Knight made his way towards the great stairs of the Temple, those opposite the way he came in. There he saw the Raven waiting for him, before the bird flew down into the valley between mountainous temples.

Lucian followed.

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Under the moonlight of Mannslieb, at the base of six massive temples to the Old Gods who once roamed the planet, was a massive lake. It was as crystal reflecting the night sky like many of the lakes within Bretonnia, as if it had been carefully cared for by the hands of studious peasants under the watchful eye of a pious Knight.

They walked and walked. The Knight could feel the fatigue of all the blood lost. Like a ghost haunting him from the shadows outside the light of the moon. It threatened to bring him down low and take his life where Morr would not.

It can try, Morr was far greater than it.

His feet soon touched the grass at the base of the Temples. On a nearby branch was the Raven still carrying the laurel in its beak. It waited for Lucian next to the River, holding its head to the skies as if showing just how significant it was.

The two of them, Lucian and Bok, continued their approach. It was when they neared the edge of the waters that Lucian placed Adok to his side and laid his scythe out before him. Then he kneeled, giving a voiceless prayer.

Then, just like that night years ago, Lucian’s closed eyes were filled with golden light.

Where he did not dare raise his head to see what was happening, he could hear it. The soft ripples of water moving as the soft patter of footsteps announced a new presence. Each step was closer to Lucian than the last, each step a beckoning that he should look up and witness the beauty which stood before him.

He resisted it. Just as Lucian’s will was above his body when it came to the matters of death he shall resist it when it came to the matters of curiosity. As his mentor Remon so many moons ago had taught the Knight he shall keep his head cowed to those greater than he.

When the footsteps stopped Lucian felt the water of the lake flowing through the cracks of his armor. Not having taken a single step or motion towards the lake, it seemed that the lake had moved towards him. The bright light was just like he remembered, blinding even as he did not dare look upon it.

“Raise your head, Valiant Knight.” Spoke The Lady of the Lake, “I wish to see your face once more.”

Lucian did as he was told, and saw beauty.

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Her hair was long, straight, and golden. It appeared to Lucian as if it was fashioned out of the greatest threads of golden fleece from all corners of the world. It flowed from her head like a veil that covered her shoulders and went all the way to her hips. Beauty was made greater by her linen dress, which left everything and nothing to imagination.

On her shoulder was the Raven, the creature placing the golden laurel onto the Lady’s head like a crown. A gift perhaps, or was the Raven simply returning what was given to him by the Lady?

Within the hands of the Lady of the Lake was the Holy Grail. It was a beautiful chalice which defied all words that could be used to match its matchless crafts. Not even the Dwarfs could match to something which held such magnificent and stunning craft. Perhaps it might have been Grungni who fashioned such a creation, Lucian would not know. It held his eyes all the same.

“Lucian of Verac.” The Lady of the Lake words were like sweet wine to his ears, “In the Halls of Karak Kol, you swore to the Questing Vow. Before that in Castle Bastonne you swore two oaths to uphold. We, your Gods, have watched your every step.”

Lucian felt his stomach become tightened with shame for all the errors he had made on the way and the punishments that were inflicted upon him for them. How could he not when he was looking upon his judges?

“You may have stumbled, Lucian, but your penance was witnessed by us. You have rid the world of three great evils who threatened to overtake these misty lands and turn them into the next stronghold of Chaos.” She addressed with a simple smile, “As we accept your penance, that you have fulfilled all parts of the Questing Vow, and that you have killed three monsters who terrorized the people of Albion; we recognize all your oaths as fulfilled.”

The Lady took the Chalice, the Holy Grail, and knelt to the waters. There she filled it halfway with the crystal clear waters of the lake she emerged from. Raising it to her shoulder, Lucian watched as the Raven extended one of its wings to the greatest extent it could. There the Knight witnessed the bones of death. From these bones, the bird took a piece of red flesh and dropped it into the Chalice.

The Lady of the Lake raised the Chalice to the sky, showing to all the gods the singular action she was taking. Then, slowly, she lowered it towards the Peasant Knight.

>Become a Grail Knight
>Decline

>>5966327
We cannot refuse, It is as our patrons decree.

>Become a grail knight.
We are Morrs, but by his own word he will share.

>>5966327
>Become a Grail Knight
As long as we can still slay Chaos, and the undead, there is no reason to decline.

>>5966327
>Become a Grail Knight.

Fuck yeah bois.

>>5966327
>Become a Grail Knight
Take a big sip

>>5966327
>>Become a Grail Knight
yes

>>5966327
>Become a Grail Knight

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As it was lowered to him Lucian outstretched his hands towards the Grail. Softly, as if it was made of glass, the Lady of the Lake deposited the grail into his waiting hands.

It was so light, the Knight realized. Something so precious and magnificent was lighter than even a feather. Why even the water that was balanced within it seemed weightless. The texture, just holding it, Lucian felt all the magics that were held within it. So many blessed spells and powers that would be given to mankind.

Lucian tilted the Grail, raising it to his lips as he did so. The pinkish liquid that was a mixture of blood and water flowed from the grail into his gullet, washing through his body towards his very soul.

Just as Gilles the Uniter of Bretonnia had, Lucian partook from the Holy Grail.

The power held within was felt immediately. The sweetness of water touched his tongue, joined by a wave of new found energy that brought Lucian to full awareness. The lethargy of fatigue was gone in an instant and his terrible feeling in the gut was flushed from his soul.

Then it continued. Lucian had felt the power like this before from the Rune of Dregni but it was tapped. This felt like the limitless pouring of power and fervor from the source. That Lucian could become as strong as he wanted as long as he suckered from the Grail.

His body began to change. First was the numerous acid burns that were burnt upon him by the damned Jabberslyth began to knit themselves and shrink. A pleasant white skin tone was shown in its place where the repairs had come.

His muscles began to become more toned. Muscle fibers that were damaged or injured from battle and practice began to reform and become stronger for those injuries. Then the blood which was partly made from the Grail’s partition flowed through these newly made veins and strands, giving them a property more akin to magic than flesh.

Lastly the waters went into Lucian’s very soul. He could feel it bounded with a great many enhancements and enchantments, his soul being both buffetted and tied to the Lady of the Lake and Morr.

When Lucian presented to the Lady the emptied Grail, he was no longer mortal.

Once Lucian of Verac was a Peasant. Now he was one of the greatest Knights known of whose tail shall be spoken of throughout all ages of Bretonnia.

As green witchfire leaked from the opening in his armor the truth was now clear. The once peasant was now a Grail Knight.

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With the Holy Grail drained dry, Lucian raised it above his head. He studied it for one moment, wishing to stay as a witness for it until the end of time. Taking in each and every detail that would be remembered into both his immortal life and the afterlife that is to come after it.

He had to give it back to the Lady though. Slowly the Knight rested the Holy Grail into the hands of the Lady of the Lake. He watched as she held the grail close to her bosom, treating the object with all the reverence as a Knight would expect her to.

With a gesture of her hand divine light shined, reaching out towards Lucian’s fallen comrades. Those who had fallen against a vile demon that was the Von Carstein Vampire began to glow with the same heavenly energies that the Lady of the Lake was bathed in. All of those wounds, the bite marks, burn marks, and even mental scaring caused by torture were lifted from their flesh with gentle ease.

With the healing done, the Goddess turned. The water, which had been at the ankles of Lucian, began to recede all while the Lady began making her way through the waters. As she did so the Raven who was sitting on her took flight, circling the waters as the Lady of the Lake slowly returned to her realm.

When she left for the heavens, Lucian could not help but notice how noticeably dimmer the world had become.

The Raven, who circled the space above Lucian, slowly descended towards the ground. Much to the surprise of the Black Knight, the bird landed upon the scythe that was laid out before him. There he could see them, the green eyes of something that was far greater than it should have been.

Then, at the head of the blade the bird struck the scythe its beak. To the surprise of Lucian, the weapon began to slowly mold and shape. However what struck Lucian the most was the Rune of Smite which was now embedded upon the weapon head of the blade.

The Raven looked at him. A long stare of a beast studying. Then, the Raven of Morr flew for the sky where Mannslieb remained.

>Preparing food for the fallen
>Trying to figure out how this place works
>Praying at the side of the lake