A popular draught in Altdorf, Kiss of the Courtier is a fine brandy infused with narcotics. The drinker gains confidence, and his natural talents at wit and charm improve, but his intellect dulls as the drink heightens his pleasure senses. Sycophants to the Emperor under the influence of this drink are easily identifiable by their flushed features and wet eyes.
"Let us not be foolish here and talk as if to children. It is painful, extremely so. The flesh tears, the blood gushes forth, the pain is like a blow to the head, knocking one senseless. One feels one’s very life is draining away, and with that comes panic and terror. But pain and terror can be weathered and controlled. And what in this world worth having does not come with a price of pain or suffering?"
—Lady Ariette von Carstein.
The manner by which a Vampire turns a mortal into another Vampire is subject to much speculation. Known variously as the Blood Kiss, the Dark Awakening, Turning and the Red Ascension, this process is believed to involve the exchange of blood in some fashion. It was Queen Neferata's blood that gave rise to the first Vampires. The Blood Kiss is a highly secretive and personal affair, possibly unique to each Vampire, and the lords of undeath do not discuss it, not even with others of their kind.
Those who are given the Kiss do have reason to be afraid, for the experience is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. The hot, hunting blood of the Vampire flows into the veins, burning out the weak, mortal blood as it goes. What happens to the life and soul of the Human during this transformation is unknown, and every Vampire that speaks of it has described something different. Some mortal priests suggest that they enter the Garden of Morr but are turned back by the God because they are an abomination to his sight. Scholars and wizards sometimes talk of them moving between the realms, trapped forever between this world and the next.
Whatever the truth, every Vampire awakens with a newly forged spirit. They retain the thoughts and memories of the mortal they once were, but within them now is a dark beast, driving them to hunt and prey, to revel in their every twisted vice, and to glory in all their dark desires. Some see this desire as a separate force—the Beast Within—whilst others believe it is simply the benefit of no longer being burdened with the weight of a soul.
The nature of this change is much debated by those with a mind for such philosophising, for it asks a fundamental question about the nature of man. Such questions are no doubt clouded by the rarefied selection of those who join the ranks of the Vampires.
Although the method of deciding who will receive the gift is individual to each Vampire, each will only choose those who will bring great glory to their bloodline. Such a mortal must be beyond exceptional, a person of great aspect and incredible will. They also typically possess some dark spark, a certain shadow in their soul that their parent-in-darkness can see, coiled and waiting. Although some Vampires are less particular than others, there is no society upon the Old World more fiercely exclusive than the Vampires. Thus the creation of a Vampire is never done lightly or frivolously, but soberly, reverently, passionately, and with fear of reparations should the choice be unwise—for the parent is very often blamed for the sins of the child.
Those who are chosen are inevitably drawn from the admirers and subjects that every Vampire soon enough attracts. The popularity of the Vampire is strong and far-reaching and why not? They are everything mortals aspire to be: physical and mental titans; masters of lands, armies, lore and sorcery; and, freed from the ravages of time, they only increase in stature with each passing year. It is the vast number of adherent mortals who wish to become children of the night that provide another reason for the Vampires to be so careful in their selection—if it was too common a gift, everyone would clamour for it, and their ranks would soon be filled with the weak and stupid.
A few Vampires are so secluded they cannot be as selective as their other brethren. They may give the honour to those Ghouls or necromancers in their retinue who proved themselves worthy enough stewards, students, or lieutenants. Some may grant the gift to apprentices who show truly exceptional talent and a sufficiently consuming obsession with the field. Others are more discerning and have unusual and unique prerequisites in their selections. For example, the Blood Dragons search the world for the greatest warriors, whatever their class or origins. Any that meet their standards—typically that of being able to defend against their attacks—are taken under consideration.
All Vampires, however, maintain a singular prejudice against non-Humans. It is perhaps not impossible for a Dwarf, Elf, or Halfling to be made a Vampire, but it is unheard of for one of the blooded to break their inveterate snobbery towards these races.
Castle Alexandronov stands to the North of Erengrad, on the borders of the Troll country. Construction of the castle was originally ordered by the great Tzar Alexandr Njevski. He chose the site guided by a dream in which Boris Ursa, the Forever Tzar of Kislev, directed him to build a great stronghold for Kislev, or else the land would be lost in a war against the greatest evil of all. Alexandr travelled across the land of Kislev for two years, until he recognised the site from his dream. Near the Troll Country stood a great cliff, some five hundred feet tall, and on the highest point he found the cool stream of clear water that Boris Ursa had shown him. Here was built a gigantic fortress with seven walls and a massive keep. Dwarfs hired from the northern holds worked ceaselessly for over a decade and the Ice Mages, led by Tzarina Olga, cast great enchantments over it. This effort severely depleted the treasury of Kislev, and many Boyars and Chalnekhniks opposed it bitterly, claiming that the castle served no purpose. The coming of Chaos was to prove how wrong they were.
Castle Alexandronov does not block the route of the rampaging Chaos hordes. Indeed, that would be an impossible task, since the northern Kislevite border stretches many hundreds of miles, most of it windswept plain. Rather, the castle attracts the worshippers of the four Dark Gods like a candle attracts moths. Arrogant Chaos Lords regard the land where the castle stands as their property and to have a Kislevite fortress on their land enrages them to a reckless frenzy.
Castle Alexandronov has never been taken. It is one of the most formidable fortresses in the Old World, rivaling even the great Dwarf strongholds. During the Great War against Chaos the castle was attacked six times and some of the most bitter fighting of the entire campaign was fought in its colossal shadow. The castle tied up a considerable part of the Chaos horde and it is without doubt that it was instrumental in the defeat of Chaos during that dark time.
The castle is constantly manned by the most fanatical defenders of Kislev and each man who aspires to join either the Kreml Guard or Gryphon Legion must first serve here for a period of six months. A Kislevite youth can usually expect to see at least two sieges during his service and can bear witness to the foulness of Chaos with his own eyes. The castle is an important symbol for the people of Kislev, signifying their resolution to stand firm against any enemy.
Nightmare Dragons are believed not to be real creatures at all, but wild currents of Amethyst Magic given life. Their breath weapon is akin to a Black Dragon's, only more potent.
Sir Tiberius Kael was an infamous Blood Knight and a former Knight of the White Wolf, known for slaying monsters.
Sir Kael was once a member of the Knights of the White Wolf, devoting his life to the service of Ulric and to mastering his passions for the sword and for the hunt. When he realised his mortal body would never be able to match the abilities of a gaunt stranger who had bested him in a duel, he made a very easy choice. Since then Kael has followed the footsteps of Abhorash, wandering the Empire and seeking great martial challenges and epic hunts to test his mettle. He sees little point in fighting men when nature can provide so many far more brutal and terrible killers. Until he is ready to face a Dragon, he tests himself against Wyverns, Griffons, Trolls and other dark things of the forests and mountains. Kael is no friend to humans, but the only thing he truly values is the glory and thrill of the hunt. He can be merciful if a human can lead him to great challenge, such as a Dragon Ogre or a Giant. On the other hand he is equally likely to use mortals as bait or as beaters to draw out such creatures. Lacking the presence of any bestial challenger, he will instead simply give them a night's head start and begin hunting them on the morrow.
Leopold von Raukov is the Grand Master of the Knights of the Bull, a Knightly Order based within Ostland. He is also the cousin of the reigning Elector Count, Valmir von Raukov. Leopold has great pride in his land, his family and the empire, and wields a powerful two-handed axe in battle, which was forged from the twin axes of a Beastlord he slew in single combat.
Always in search of enemies that he can drive out of the woods of his homeland, he and his knights are famous for their "Bull Attack", a unique formation which they use to decimate their enemies, with Leopold always leading from the forefront.
"Mine emissaries make gifts to greedsome strangers; the skulls of the unliving carry soul-scum skimmings, brine-song echoing still. These they accept, for bauble and toy is all. In doing acceptance they make abasement, for debt is eternal, beyond mortal-man’s ken."
The Ebony Skulls are gifts from Harkon, carried by his emissaries to be presented to potential allies. These unholy artefacts must be cast to the ground to unlock the dark powers within. Once broken, the owner may call upon the services of Luthor's servants, and will be eternally in his debt...
Karak Angkul is a minor Dwarf Hold located somewhere within the World's Edge Mountain. Little is known about the hold other than the fact that it was subject to an invasion force of Skaven from Clan Skyre and Clan Mors, led by three infamous figures; Grey Seer Thanquol, Chief Warlock Ikit Claw and Warlord Queek Headtaker. The dwarfs of Karak Angkul had been described as a particularly tough and sneaky sort, their wars against the Skaven of Bonestash having lasted for centuries, the deathtoll on the Skaven being hundreds of times the number of the Dwarf dead. The current ruler is King Logan Longblade.
What little history about the hold could be found is located within the walls of the Hold's throneroom. They depicted the founding of Karak Angkul, the heroic history of the dwarfs who called the stronghold home. Sections of wall were dedicated to the Goblin Wars, showing the dwarfs waging their unending battle against the wretched greenskins for control of the mountains. A section dozens of yards long showed the dwarfs of Karak Angkul making war against the arrogant elves during the War of the Beard, artillerists from the stronghold maiming the dreaded wyrm Malok at the Battle of Burned Blades. A smaller tableau showed the dwarfs marching to the aid of the fledgling Empire, cutting off the advance of the undead warlord Zahaak the Usurper before he could join the horde of his unholy master Nagash against the outnumbered army of the manling emperor Sigmar.
Trophies adorned the sides of the pillars, mementoes of the victories of Karak Angkul. The mummified husk of the devil-spider Togrildam hung from chains against one column, the gigantic beast’s carapace still showing the marks of King Glorin Thornefinger’s hammer. The immense war-axe of the orc warlord Ghazagruff, its cleaver-like blade split where it had broken against the runeshield of King Uldrik Blackhand. The armour of Lord Corirthar Swiftsword, slain by Nimbrindil Ironfoot at the Battle of Fellwind Dale. Two crimson scales as big as shields that had been ripped from the hide of the dragon Malok by Skalfri Brandbeard with his bolt-thrower during the War of the Beard. The glory of Karak Angkul was on display all around him and Klarak felt a swelling of pride to belong to such a proud heritage. Reflecting upon his ancestors always gave him a redoubled sense of purpose, a fierce determination to bend his sharp mind towards the service of his people. It did not matter if he received acclaim and recognition for his works. What mattered was that he helped ensure the continuance of Karak Angkul and its rich history.
The Skaven Invasion
Sometime around the early 25th century IC, Karak Angkul had been subject to a fresh series of invaison led by Warlord Rikkit Snapfang of Clan Mors. Under the leadership of Engineer Klarak Bronzehammer, a new series of defensive steam-automated turrets held the invaders back for a time until the timely arrival of Ikit Claw and the warriors of Clan Skyre. Through the leadership of Grey Seer Thanquol, the Skaven have been able to distract the Dwarfs long enough for Ikit Claw to finish production of his Doomsphere, a horrific atomic bomb. In desperation, a mighty throng breached the defences of Bonestash and destroyed the weapon before it became operational.
However, during the ensuring conflict, Warlord Queek Headtaker of Clan Mors launched a surprise attack against the now defenceless dwarfs of Karak Angkul, breaching the first two deeps before being stop at the third deeps. In desperation, Grey Seer Thanquol mistakenly summoned Bloodthirster Skarbrand into the hold, butchering the Dwarfs and Skaven armies before the Daemon was cut down by a fallen axe held by a statue of the goddess Valaya thanks to the heroic deeds of Klarak Bronzehammer. Wanting revenge, Thanquol sent a bolt of lightning towards the Engineer, his body fallen into the floor with a splat, the death of the hero rousing the Dwarfs to fury. However, Thanquol escaped and the Hold is left to do nothing but mourn the dead.
Enemies fighting the bearer of this maddening weapon become confused and befuddled, making it hard for them to strike back.
Ungrol Four-Horn, also known as Blackheart, Hornsthief, and the Spurned One, is a being consumed with bitterness and spite. There is no more hateful a creature in the Old World, for he has been cast out of the ranks of both man and beast. Such was the scale of his transgressions that he has become something of a legend, and to this day he leads as a self-styled beggar king, marching at the head of a ragtag army of outcasts, mutants, and heretics who have nowhere else to run.
Ungrol was born with two heads, each of which was possessed of a singular ugliness. The mewling beast was greeted with utter revulsion by his human parents, and so Ungrol was cast out into the woods to die.
But he subsisted on a diet of grubs and roots until he was strong enough to hunt and kill. Ungrol eventually found his way to the Manblight tribe, where he joined the ranks of the Ungor. Though he had only the most rudimentary horn-buds, the fact that Ungrol had two heads was remarkable enough that he was tolerated as a Beastman. But still Ungrol had not found peace. The other Ungors were jealous of his mutation, and the Gors mocked him and beat him for having such small horns. Every day was a new set of demeaning and horrible trials for the creature they mockingly called four-horn.
One dark night, covered in bruises and bleeding from a dozen wounds, Ungrol could take no more. His tribe kin were snoring loudly after a drunken feast which Ungrol was not allowed to attend. He took up a great rock and, approaching the largest of the sleeping figures, bashed his chieftain's brains out. The Bray-Shaman was next, throttled by Ungrol's sinewy hands. Ungrol carved off the magnificent horns of the two tribal leaders with his jagged knife, strapping the chieftain's horns to one of his heads and those of the Bray-Shaman to the other. Resplendent with his new sets of headgear, Ungrol capered in the moonlight, gazing with manic glee at his shadow and singing "Four horn, four-horn!" over and over again.
To kill a chieftain outside of a challenge is bad enough, but to kill a Bray-Shaman is the gravest sin of all. When the tribe discovered the atrocities Ungrol had committed they chased him for a night and a day, but Ungrol was ever sly, and he evaded their pursuit in a labyrinth of dark caves. He still dwells there to this day, consumed by enmity and jealous ire.
Over the years Ungrol's legend has spread, and through channelling his vast reservoir of hatred he has come to be a warrior of some repute. Many Ungors have joined his cause and he now commands a great army of mutants, outcasts and monsters that raid the lands of men, taking out their hatred upon any they can catch and keeping their human captives like cattle in the dank depths of the Labyrinth of the Spurned.
The Stolen Crowns: Ungrol's 'horns' still contain a residue of their former owners' power, meaning that he can often be found bickering with himself or speaking the dark tongues of magic, including rudimentary casting of Wild Magic.
"I'll be happy to work for you, but Lustrian expeditions are high-risk. I'm not familiar with this one, but if I were you I'd do a little research in the 'Change's records - I could do it for you, for ten guilders - to find out more before investing heavily. The prices of future-shares can go down as well as up, you know."
Martinus Brobbel is the junior partner in Brobbel and Son, based in Hightower Island. He is 24, tall and nervous, but his depth of knowledge about the workings of the 'Change is excellent, and on the trading floor he becomes a whirlwind of energy. He's a bit of a bureaucrat and a stickler for paperwork, refusing to do anything solely on trust. His commission is 1.5%, with a minimum investment of 200 Gu. Martinus is solid but lacking in flair.
A Bretonnian nobleman, Florin d'Artaud was forced to escape his life of debt and debauchery by tricking his way onto a flotilla headed to the fabled lands of Lustria. Posing as a veteran military commander, Florin's immediate concerns are to get his troops under control and survive the long, dangerous sea voyage. Once they arrive in Lustria's steamy jungles, the mercenaries find far more than they bargained for and a simple treasure hunt turns into a sinister expedition for forgotten lore. But the ancient guardians of the jungle will not let their secrets be plundered so freely.
Having spent all his inheritance on cards, Florin had been living in the apartments at the top of an old building within Castle Bordeleaux since his parents died. It had served many different purposes over the years, from barracks, to stables to inn. Now it served none of these functions, the cavernous spaces between its peeling lathe walls and highly drafty gables having been carved up into a shabby warren of little chambers housing everything from bales of cheap calico to the workshops of a dozen stooped and weak-eyed artificers.
A side-door leads up three flights of narrow stairs to the apartments, squeaking and groaning as if about to collapse (though Florin has grown too used to them to paid any heed). In summer, the slate roof above his rooms would become hot enough to fry eggs on, while in the winter it froze into a flat sculpture of snow and icicles. Even the rats deserted the gables at that time of year, though the cockroaches aren't as fussy. The front door, meanwhile, is a heavy one with a bolt-lock. The furniture consists of a table and a beaten-up sofa drawn up to the window.
Yet despite the discomfort, Florin has never considered returning to the luxury of his family's town house, the place having felt like a prison to him for as long as he could remember. The bars of respectability strictly guarded first by his father, Count d'Artaud, and then, after his death, his brother Bastien.
The Staff of Darkoth, and its wielder, are crawling with slugs, bugs, and insects. They seeth over the surface of the wood, infect the shaman's fur and inhabit his robes.
Clan Kreepus of Gnaw Pit was once conquered by Clan Grikk. Despite months of plotting, Clan Kreepus were unable to overthrow their jailers – until, that is, Clan Eshin promised to intervene in exchange for unswerving fealty.
Deciding that service was better than slavery, Clan Kreepus accepted and a stash of poisoned daggers was smuggled into Gnaw Pit that night. Unable to clutch the weapons in their manacled claws, the Skaven of Clan Kreepus instead wielded them in their tails.
When the guards next opened the cages they were overwhelmed. Clan Kreepus have been the willing thralls of Clan Eshin ever since and they have adopted many of their patron's mysterious ways. They are a secretive clan, running many mysterious errants for their Clan Eshin masters. Wary of reprisals, the warriors of Clan Kreepus rarely show their faces: it is rare for them not to obscure their faces with cloths, masks, or at least a few rags.
Clan Kreepus display Skaven runes made from daggers. Poisoned blades and rat-tail motifs are both common on Clan Kreepus' shields and banners.
Waybread is an enchanted, long lasting type of cuisine made in Ulthuan. Indeed, elven bread does not stale, lasting for years without going hard or tasteless, that is, unless magic is used to despoil it.
Warhammer Fantasy is a high fantasy fictional universe created by Games Workshop and used in many of its games, including the table top wargame Warhammer Fantasy Battle, the Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay (WFRP) pen-and-paper role-playing game, and the MMORPG Warhammer Online: Age of Reckoning.
You will learn about all the warhammer tame line and universes.