Turn 9- part 2

Happy ever after
The church bells rang loudly, announcing to all the people of Myrmidens that the hour had finally come. All the streets and houses were decorated with white and gold ribbons, while azure flags bearing the Fleur de Lys flew from every flagpole. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm light on the people gathered in the town square. At the north end of the square stood the town's church, dedicated to Shallya, and all tried to secure a place inside. There were simply too many people to let everyone in, and so most of Myrmidens' commoners stood outside, cheering and holding bouquets of white and yellow flowers.

All were gathered to witness the marriage of their prince, Mario da Gama, to the beautiful lady from beyond the seas whom he had courted. For the people, such events presented a good cause for celebration, for the prince's courtiers were quick to spend their gold on food and wine for the people, no doubt hoping to gain the prince's favour by aggrandising the celebrations held in his honour.

Inside, the church was divided in four equal sections, each running the entire length of the inner hall. The left side was reserved for the dignitaries of Gronti Mingol- Kaspar van Gelding, von Heidenmund, Atlas and lady Anya seated on the frontmost pew. The feldoberst von Heidenmund, in particular, looked pleased, for his efforts had made this day possible. Lady Anya, too, smiled brightly, not just because it was her work that the feldoberst had finished- the bride had become a personal friend in recent days, and she was happy for her.

The row of pews to the far right of the church were reserved for the dwarves of Ekrund. King Ironhelm, the lords Fairhair, Steelhorn, Ironhammer and the lady Alpsbane in front, with prince Lorenzo Aquila and his niece on the second pew. Of all those present, only Aquila's niece felt a pang of regret- had they acted faster, then it could have been her standing beside the prince. Yet still she smiled, for while she would not marry this day, her own arranged wedding to Giacomo di Pazzano of Remas had been canceled due to her uncle's machinations. To be free of a future with that brutish man was reason enough to smile this day.

The final two rows of pews were reserved for the families, courtiers and friends of prince Mario da Gama and his bride, the Marquise Noelle du Laq of Gisoreux. The groom wore what was arguably his best outfit, a stately yet somewhat raggedy uniform in white and gold, a large sabre hanging from his hip. The bride, meanwhile, wore an elegant yet plain white dress, as was custom for a wedding in Shallya's church. Around the silk bodice she wore a simple leather belt dyed a deep azure, sporting a clasp bedecked with tiny white gemstones, reflecting the light coming through the stained glass window. A veil hid the bride's face and hair from the public, for it was unheard of for a lady of Bretonnia to show her hair. Only da Gama stood close enough to look past the veil and into Noelle's bright blue eyes.

The couple held each other's hands, listening as the white-robed high priestess recited the words of the ritual of marriage.

'Do you, prince Mario da Gama of Myrmidens, take Marquise Noelle du Laq of Gisoreux as your wife?'

The prince waited only a moment before responding, his expression neutral as befitted a man of his position. Only Noelle could see the glistening in his eyes, betraying his emotion. 'I do,' he finally said, eliciting a cheer from the crowd outside. The guests inside suppressed a chuckle, careful not to disturb the ceremony.

'And do you, Marquise Noelle du Laq of Gisoreux,' the priestess continued without acknowledging the guests' reactions, 'take prince Mario da Gama as your husband?'

Noelle, too, waited a moment before answering, sharing the groom's flair for the dramatic. 'I do,' she said then, her broad smile unseen behind her veil.

'Then I pronounce you husband and wife,' the high priestess concluded, 'and bestow upon you the blessing of Shallya our lady.' Only then did the woman allow herself a smile, the formal part of her ritual at its end. 'You may kiss the bride,' she said, and the prince wasted no time in following her suggestion. He carefully pulled back Noelle's veil, gently embracing her while placing a soft kiss on her lips.

The guests erupted in cheers and laughter, and outside the crowd's thunderous applause could be heard. After a moment the couple left each other's embrace, walking down the aisle and into the bright, sunny day, where they were greeted with a cheering crowd throwing their white and yellow flowers at them.

A political marriage is often a thing of cold reasoning, of a mutually beneficial alliance, with no place for fleeting things like happiness or love. One glance at the newly married couple, however, told any who cared to look that both were plentiful in supply.

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A pirate's life...
The Kaptain chugged his tankard of ale, cooled by the runic coaster he had stolen from feldoberst von Heidenmund, who had in turn stolen it from mount Bloodhorn. The golden disc had been kept on the desk in his personal cabin aboard the Morka Lisa ever since.

'Roight then,' Blacksquig said, looking up from the maps spread out over his desk. He looked at the members of his crew who he had invited, so he could explain his plan to them. None of them were all too happy to be there, well aware of the kaptain's legendary temper, but they knew declining the invitation would be even more stupid than accepting. All of them eyed the pistol lying on the kaptain's desk warily, knowing it could be the death of any of them.

'Enuff of da desert,' the kaptain bellowed. 'Place is full of sand and no grog. No place fer a proppa pirate, dat is. We gots ourselves a ship, I sez we forget about this business wiv Waaagh! Grimlit or Waaagh! Dularg or whoever of dem grots is in charge this week, an' go get some plunderin' done.'

This earned him the cheers of his crew, who were quite happy with the prospect of gold, plunder, and plundering gold.

'So, I sez our next port of call be in Estalia. Got da perfect place already sorted.' He drew a dagger from his belt, planting it in the southeast corner of the map.

'Almagorka,' he said, grimly.

'Uh, boss,' one of the orcs started, despite the vehement shaking of heads among his mates, 'I fink it be called Almagora?'

The pistol appeared in Blacksquig's claw before the orc could blink, a loud crack and a puff of white smoke the last thing the uppity greenskin ever witnessed.

'Not when I'z through wiv it,' the orc bellowed at the dead orc's slumped body. 'Now, wot iz you gits still muckin' about fer? Get to work! Fasten' da riggin', lower da sail, fire da cannons, mop da poop deck! Plunder awaits!'

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What lies below

Deep under the Dragonback mountains, below the halls of Khaz Vithang and the mines of the First Delve, deeper even than the fabled lost forge of Droskar the smith, lies a network of tunnels older than even Ekrund itself. Long before the dwarves came to the Dragonback mountains, the people of Nehekhara mined the veins found hidden far below First Delve. What drove these people off is unknown- perhaps a change in economy, perhaps a natural calamity, perhaps war. But left the tunnels they did, leaving no trace or records of their passing.

Not even the first dwarves of Ekrund who lived four thousand years ago were aware of the tunnels underneath their doomed home, but recently, the caverns have been rediscovered by the vilest creatures known to the civilized world.

Clan Rikek, the skaven descendants of the ratmen who once failed to drive Nagash from his realm, now nest here, gathering their strength after their defeat at the first necromancer's bony hands. The politics of the Underempire have kept the clan in a state of nigh extinction for four thousand years, its every attempt to crawl back to the top of the waste heap thwarted by more powerful rivals.

Now, however, the warlord Pirrkit Snapfang had led his skaven to the ancient tunnels underneath Ekrund, and the clan has finally begun to regain its strength again.

The defeat of the orcs, however, has unearthed the existence of the skaven to the dwarves of Ekrund. Already king Durak Ironhelm is gathering his throngs, to exterminate the pests living under his people's feet. The armies are weary, however, the greenskins defeated only days ago, and need time to recuperate.

While the armies prepare for their descent into the skaven tunnels, bands of adventurers have gathered, lured by the promise of treasure in the lair of the ratmen- both belonging to the skaven, and to the ancient Nehekharans. These parties of daring men and women from all over the Old World and beyond intend to pick clean the skaven nests, before the armies have a chance to seal off the area for extermination.

And so, unbeknowest to the dwarven armies and the skaven below, the hidden paths leading from the outskirts of Ekrund to the deep dark maze are disturbed, and the entrances to the skaven lair opened by greedy hands.

The Underhalls have been openend...