Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Rise of Vlad AAR 1.odt
Rise of Vlad AAR 1.odt
It was the shouts that woke me. It was hard enough to find sleep on the cold stone floor
of my dungeon cell, but the shouting was a new stimulus, and pulled me immediately to
conciousness. Up above, the scraping of hundreds of skeletal feet meant that Castle
Templehof's undead garrison had be called to defend against some beseiging force. At the
time, I had been imprisoned for nearly 3 years, though I myself had lost count. Meanwhile, my
jailor, the Necromancer Van Kruger, could be heard barking orders at several of his living
minions.
"To the keep, you wretches! Von Carstein's forces have breached the outer wall. Damn,
this cannot happen! How has that fiend managed to raise so many to his will?"
Kruger sounded desperate, and better yet, distracted. His shouting grew faint, as the
Necromancer made his way to Templehof's inner keep. I made my best attempt at surpressing
my fear at the name of Von Carstein, my time had come. I moved to the corner of my cell, and
revealed my prise from under the pile of filthy rags that were once my own soldier's uniform.
A long metal bar, forcefully pried from the far cell wall. While the other bars seemed resilient
to further deconstruction, this bar had been carefully ground to a pointed tip, thin enough to
wedge between the delapidated locking mechanism of the cell door.
Confident that the sounds of combat would cover my racket, I forced the lock to bend at
twist under the leverage of my new tool. With no small effort, I had warped the lock enough
that the bars creaked loudly open. Making my way up the nearby stairs, I remained aware that
my skeletal wardens had also been called away to fight. I almost reveled in my luck, until my
realization that I now had to make my escape under the additional vigaliance of a Von Carstein
vampire and his attacking army. My only hope rest in making a discreet escape.
Finding my way to the upper courtyard, I gazed in despair at the battlefield in the
streets below me. Legions of skeletons bearing the banner of Castle Drakenhof, the ancient
demense of the Von Carstein bloodline, battled against Krugers own undead. His undead were
outmaneuvered, having been able to muster some five hundred skeletons and zombies to
defend his stolen lands. Meanwhile, the Von Carstein host had neatly outflanked Kruger's
forces, leaving his different groups of servitors isolated against an equally implacable foe.
The screeching of skybound horrors shook me from my observations. A pack of three
monstrous bat-like creatures swooped through the skies, before plummeting into knots of
Kruger's undead, tearing through them with grotesque skill. I had heard of these Vargheists
before, legend telling that they were once the unfavored blood-children of the Von Carstein
line, left caged and mad until mutation took them and remade them into these blood thirsty
visions. I quickly turned to run, only to find the road to the western gate blocked. The undead
were too many, every street clogged with combat. Several of Kruger's skeletal spearmen broke
off of a nearby melee as they noticed me, forcing me into a desperate defense. I attempted to
calm myself and make a measured defense, but I was in no fit condition after my
imprisonment, and the spearmen would not tire. For every strike I landed, I needed to parry a
speartip, or suffered a haft strike. The crumpled heaps of two skeletons lay around me, yet
more took noticed at closed in on me.
A spear tip pierced my hip on the left, dropping me to my knee. I had no energy to cry
out, the air pulled entirely from me by the force of the strike. Several other spears were
already raised, ready to skewer me from several different directions. I closed my eyes, thinking
only one thing to myself.
...
I do not recall what precisely I sad to Lord Vlad that night, but I know that years of
solitude had fostered in me a great feeling of abandonment, and anger. I had served the
Empire for years, fighting greenskins, beasts, rebels, and much worse. From my home in
Reikland I was pulled to garrison the eastern front, cast aside and forgotten in some run down
fort when the undead overran our position, with no signs of reinforcement or rescue. I had
given my loyalty to the Empire, and it had paid for that token with apathy. In turn, I gave my
loyalty to Lord Vlad von Carstein, progenitor of his bloodline, and he payed for that loyalty
with stewardship of the newly conquered Castle Templehof, and immortality. No longer was I
Felix Dreichen of Reikland. I was Felix von Carstein.
*Vlad von Carstein begins to reclaim his territory, capturing Castle Templehof, and siring a
new general in the process.
*Felix von Carstein is reborn as a blood son of Vlad von Carstein, and is granted lordship over
the conquered region.