Posts Tagged ‘Mesa de Mordheim’

 

 

Hello Reader.

 

Continuing our sequence of “Road to Mordheim” articles today’s article focuses on the creatures I knew I’d have in the Warband ever since I decided to have a Vampire Counts Warband, and as the title of this article implies, no I’m not talking about vampires.

 

If you’ve read my first article in this series you know by now my Warband focuses on a Strigoi vampire, sent to Mordheim at the behest of a more powerful “master” for some reason we still don’t know.

 

In the Warhammer Fantasy background Strigoi vampires are bestial creatures, little more than ravening beasts, often called “Ghoul Kings” because of their association with these famous fantasy creatures.

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The wooden planks on the bottom of the horse drawn cart creaked, complaining about the heavy weight set upon them. “… and eight, nine, ten” the small man finished counting the recently dug up corpses as they were piled up unceremoniously atop the vehicle.

 

He paid each of the grave robbers a silver piece for their work and their silence and hopped at the cart’s seat, tapped the big man holding the reins and signaled forward. Without making a sound the hulking brute whipped the horses with the reins urging them forward, which the animals promptly did.

 

It was past the middle of the night, the witching hour some folks called it, and they had miles to go before the end of their journey. The cart’s bottom had been covered in straws so they’d soak the putrefying ichors and layers of “stink me not” and other fragrant flowers has been intermingled with the corpses to mask their rotting smell. These were the freshest the small man was able to find, he had even arranged for a few of them to be made into corpses to begin with, as the master had required fresh corpses for the reanimation process. These would have to last a while as the road to the City of the Damned was a long winding one.

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Gorgoloth’s Hounds.

 

Ele se movia determinada e silenciosamente em direção ao velho pórtico engastado na colina. As velhas hastes de metal do qual eram feitas o portão haviam há muito sido corroídas pela ação do tempo, esfacelando-se com a ferrugem e tornando-o sem serventia, motivo pelo qual o portão jazia agora semiaberto, testemunha silenciosa e impotente das idas e vindas da criatura que habitava os túneis mais além, dos quais um dia fora guardião.

 

Os túneis fantasmagóricos sob o velho forte eram evitados por todos, e mesmo aqueles a seu serviço evitavam transitar por ali, pois, ainda que não soubessem a exata natureza da criatura que vivia aqui, eles, os serviçais, sempre sentiram que os túneis eram o domínio de algo maligno, algo que predava tanto homens quanto outras criaturas da escuridão.

 

Qualquer outra pessoa provavelmente se perderia no labirinto de passagens que recortavam a colina sob a qual se assentava há séculos o velho forte de propriedade de sua família. Os aldeões da região especulavam que as passagens e túneis se estenderiam até as bordas de suas terras, enquanto outros atestavam de forma veemente que uma pessoa poderia ir de um lado ao outro das Colinas Uivantes sem jamais ver a luz do dia empregando os túneis. Ele sabia que as passagens não iam tão longe. Tendo caminhado ele mesmo incontáveis vezes por cada um dos túneis ao longo dos últimos séculos, ele conhecia cada centímetro de cada tune, afinal de contas Ele era o mestre aqui.

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