Sunday, 19 July 2009

Warhammer Fantasy Campaign Fluff

I think I'm slightly behind in the Campaign at my gaming club with real life throwing up it's own concerns but I'm hoping to get caught up a bit today if I'm not already. Anyway, I've written a bit of fluff in advance of the first movement phase of Turn 2 of the campaign. I'll have to add the events of this first movement phase once I've actually taken my turn but I've been impatient to write a little more!

Amador stepped over the almost lifeless husks of two of his slaves. They were exhausted from the debauchery he’d demanded of them. Now that he had used them up he walked away from his throne and beckoned over a third slave to help him don his armour once more. The slave summoned another to help her whilst Amador shrugged of the wolf hide cloak that had shrouded his naked form. He wore only his skull helm; in fact he was never parted from it. The summoned slave was another female and she couldn’t suppress a cold shudder as she took in the scene of the throne room. The shallow, intermittent breathing of the male and female slaves unconscious on the floor held her attention, as she didn’t dare bring herself to look on her captor’s form. She had glimpsed the pattern of scars across his frame, most of them self inflicted.

Amador moved as necessary but otherwise paid the busy slaves no heed. Upon assuming control of Gaizka’s armies he’d returned to the citadel to demand the necessary tribute from the tribes. He had received an army of slaves as gifts, along with a menagerie of captured monstrosities and finely crafted weapons and jewels. He’d also had to best four tribe chieftains in combat to prove his succession. There was no peace amongst the tribes of the Diatchi, although, there was recognition that whoever occupied the Citadel was the dominant force and had the blessing of Elazar. The Citadel’s resident was a man whom the tribes would pay tribute but this was no guarantee of an alliance and certainly not of submission. When a particularly gifted warrior took the Citadel he might manage to cow the other tribes into submission and then they would go to war, a tide of tribesmen and warriors intent on violence, enslavement and worse. The Warriors and Knights always occupied the Citadel, lending their might to whichever warrior held favour. Clearly this was at the behest of the daemonic patron as no other had asked it of them. Once in a while one from amongst their number would hold further ambition, much as Amador had done and he would force the chieftains into submission. Such was the strength, will and ruthlessness of these individuals that they would unit the tribes in purpose one way or another and make war upon the weaklings to the south. The violent ambition of the Diatchi, though, saw to it that nobody grew stagnant in their place, not in the shifting violence that passed as a political structure.
Amador had grown tired of all the revelries and tributes. Battle was the thirst he needed sated now. His time here had allowed him to learn who amongst his followers had been touched by Elazar with a hint of destiny. He’d learnt that Isidro Devante was utterly insane, performing as many disturbing experiments on his slaves as he did inflict foul acts and torture upon them. But, the sorcerer was blindly obedient to what he saw as the will of Elazar and Amador knew that as long a he had a steady stream of slaves to abuse that Isidro would be loyal. He had entrusted the sorcerer with a portion of his armies and sent him on his way to bring his dominion over the lands surrounding the Citadel. Amador too knew his task. He wrapped a gauntleted hand around his sword hilt as the slaves scurried away, their work complete. He would return to the despoiled temple and show his patron that he was better suited to lead than Gaizka had been.