Post: #1

Niklaus moves just ahead of the main force, out of sight in the heavy gloom. The shadows cast by Peters Magics are hiding the sunlight well, hopefully well enough that remaining mages in the Human ranks cannot dispel it. Having spoken of Tactics with his mute ally upon the path, niklaus knows that if the forces besieging the castle are not already encircling it, that must be stopped at all costs. There aren't enough forces within the walls to mount an offensive Sortie, so the foe must either be broken against the walls without aid, or the Vampires must make it within their embrace once more.

Niklaus task, as he has taken it upon himself, is to move ahead of the army to dispose of outriders that the humans might have sent, adding their corpses to the armies path to be assimilated without thought. Here he stands, a mere league from the castle walls, and the marching of human feet is clearly audible.

Looking back to the main bulk of the undead host, approaching at near a right angle to the main body of the human army, he howls into the gloom. If Peter marches directly ahead of him, he'll only contact the rear of the army, not the main body! He must turn his forces, angle them to cut off his attackers.

Moving forward through the night, Niklaus can spy fires, torches carries by the men to rest their fears of the darkness and what they hide. The main armies are so close! The terrain is troublesome, but with only several hundred yards separating the main forces, Swartzhafen is looking more and more promising. Can Peters host handle the men before him? There are at least as many or more living arms to fight the undead horde, nervous as though they might be.

Niklaus watches for only a moment, tearing himself away before his hatred boils over.

Soon, there shall be death among you. Soon! Grunting, he tears off, looking to cause more havoc and terror among the paltry humans.

Post: #2

Peter knew that his army, enlarged as it was, was in no state to fight the human army in a pitched battle. He had used far to much magic in the last few hours, and he felt drained.

Niklaus was eager to get to grips with the enemy, but Peter realides that a more tactical approach was required. The Vampire Knight reached into the beast's mind, not violently, as not to scare him. Peter mutter an incantation, and formed a strong bond between his mind and Niklaus. To be effective, the two needed to be able to comunicate. This method also meant they could get in touch from opposite sides of the battle field.

Niklaus growled, he obviously felt the cold fingers of Dark Magic probing in his brain. He sped away towards the humans.

Peter sent out a thought to the Varghulf.

"Go and distract them. Buy me enough time to get behind the shelter of the walls. Then return to the keep. I am sure you will be able to scale the fortifications without to much difficaulty".

Niklaus peeled of from the main army, and sped of to attack the Imperial army.

Peter formed up his Blood Knights and Wight Knights in a triangle behind him. The ranks of skeletons took their place behind the wedge of horsemen. Peter hoped that with a single stroke, he could broake through the encircling army, and reach the gates. With a bit of luck, he would do enough damage to cripple the Sigmarite forces as well.

He kicked Firehoof into a gallop, and drew his blade.

His army smashed into the thin line of Humans, easyily breaking through the first few ranks of spearmen. Those that fell were not granted the peace of death for long, rising up to fight their former allies. But Pter's charge was losing momentum, and slowly he was fought to a stand still. He hoped Nikilaus was having better luck further down the line.

Post: #3

Niklaus has orders now. This new communication shall prove....Useful. With a roar, Niklaus speeds from the trees to the terrified human lines. Seconds before Peter makes his appearance with his knights and legion, Niklaus impacts the line of swordsmen on the march with the sound of a cannon shot. Men are scattered to the left and right like rag dolls, his clothing shredded once more by the cuts of swords and spears, but his wounds healing with each new gout of blood he brings from their ranks.

Roaring, the men back away from him, his form terrifying beyond all reason. This is the perfect time for Peter to Strike; and he does. Coming from the tree like an undead tide, his soldiers crash into the lines of men, barely formed, to slaughter dozens in the first instant. The battle line is too thick, though. Peter is weighed down, and in the lull of the fight near Niklaus, he sees this. Standing tall, or as tall as his relatively short frame would allow him to stand, he bellows a challenge over the screams of the dying and fighting men, acting as a wedge to help Peters charge gain momentum once more.

The men on foot cannot seem to stand before him, his gore encrusted fangs and rust colored talons are ripping men apart, and none can stand before him; or so it seems. Peters momentum is somewhat restored as the humans back away in fear from what they do not understand, allowing him those hard earned meters back toward Swartshafen. Tearing into a mans exposed stomach, Niklaus snaps a shattered spearshaft from his shoulder, looking to the path to Swartshafen with glowing red eyes, only to spy trouble.

The sound of gunpowder has been significant by its absence in these battles, and here is the reason. Toward the rear of the main undead forces now fighting their way through the ranks of men are a battery of artillery. Two cannons and a mortar stand, with men scurrying to load and prepare them. Peters odds of making it to Swartzhafen with that firepower at his back is a difficult task.

Niklaus leaps, his bestial strength driving him over startled, fearful heads of human beings to leave Peter stranded in the midst of carnage, close to safety but yet so far. That battery must be silence; and there even stands a Warrior Priest giving them courage.

Niklaus bears his fangs in fury, loping on all fours to reach the hated figure before him. The battery must fall; But it is too late! Thunder that is not thunder sounds over the battlefield, a cannonball lodges itself in the earth near Niklaus in an eruption of soil. But two more thunderous booms sound, and Niklaus knows not where they land.

Post: #4

A cannonball whizzed through the air to Peter's left, ripping a Blood Knight from his saddle with a wet crunch. Behind him a mortar shot landed in the midst of the skeletons, pounding them to dust.

Somewhere near to the cannon battery, Niklaus roared. Peter felt his anger through their link, and knew that the beastial vampire would take care of them. The line of humans in front of Peter was the main concern. He needed some way of breaking their ranks. His legion had been fought to a stand still, and the men of the Empire were not faltering. He hacked left and right, and the mortals screamed, only to be pulled back into the world to fight again.

Peter raised his hand, and formed a few harsh syllables in the back of his throat. The magic of his sword had given him the strength for one last spell, leeching the souls from the dying. A torrent of black fire shot from his hand, engulfing the ranks of spearmen in front of him. Flesh melted and armour ran like water. As the smoke cleared, a gap had appeared in the enemy lines. Wasting no time, Peter led his knights through the breach, the rest of his army following closely behind. The mortals tried desperately to close the gap, but the undead forces now had the upper hand.

Peter opened the gates of his castle with a thought, and led his troops quickly through. He ordered his ghouls to form a thin line to give his troops time to march to safety. The foul creatures were expendable, he thought.

The Raven of Swartzhafen had returned to his keep, but he knew that there was no time to rest.

Post: #5

Niklaus is among the artillery battery, his massive claws ripping into the first operator with a vengeance, throwing him into the others with the strength of fury. Roaring, Niklaus turns to take care of the other pieces, not knowing Peter is safely inside the walls, only to receive a deafening blast from the remaining cannon. Loaded with grapeshot, the smoke fully encompasses Niklaus form, and an inhuman scream comes from the incendiary cloud as jagged shards of metal, stone, and glass pepper the undead form.

The smoke clears, and Niklaus moves away, limping badly and with a wounds bleeding profusely from his chest and legs. Still able to outrun men on foot, he quickly makes it to the trees, Pain flashing through the newfound link to Peter as he moves through the woods with as much haste as he can muster.

Wounded, and now truly alone, the Castle is encircled and Peter ensconced within a ring of human steel; where is there refuge for a wounded animal? Niklaus snout turns left and right, looking for a defend able location from where he can seize a nights rest, away from the steel and gunpowder of his foes.

Cresting a ridge, he gives a howl of anguish, stepping heavily on his wounded legs, and looks to Swartzhafen with glowing red eyes. His intentions, through the bond, are clear; Recover, and scale the castle walls. If he survives.

In the brush behind him come the cries of man, the terrain inhospitable to horses, but daylight cannot be held back by the cloudcover for long. Shelter is desperately needed, and soon.

Post: #6

The gates slammed shut behind Peter with a dull clang. Quickly he dismounted, and handed Firehoof's reins to a wight attendant. He ran up the steps to the top of the gate house.

On the open ground around the keep, more and more soldiers were preparing to attck. There was a loud shot, and suddenly Peter felt a burning pain in his skull. The pain passed quickly, but Peter knew that Niklaus was in trouble, somewhere out on the battlefield. But he was beyond help.

Lines of skeletons and wights were forming up along the battlements of the Monastery. The inner keep was a high building, surrounded by walls about twenty feet high. The place had been well built, Peter was sure that dwarves had had a hand in its construction. At each corner of the outer wall was a squat tower. Peter had no artillery; as a Blood Dragon, he still felt a loathing for ranged weapons.

In his long stay at the fortress, Peter had placed some small enchantments on the castle, but doubted that they would hold long in the face of the guns of the Empire. Hopefully Niklaus had knocked them out of action.

A heavily armoured figure stepped forward from the ranks of the mortals. He carried a heavy warhammer. He regarded the vampire with loathing eyes. Peter returned the glare. The wind whistled in the space between the wall and the Imperial lines.

For a moment, both armies stood motionless, banners flapping in the wind.

Post: #7

Niklaus turns to face his pursuers, unable to run any farther. Too much blood is lost, he has to replenish himself, or he won't last any longer. His back to a large boulder jutting from the hillside, he clutches his scarred face with one hand, the other hanging near his taloned foot, tips gutting the earth. Tense, his breath whistles through his snout, vaguely recognizable as human, as he looks to the torches that his pursuers carry. Having been heavily wounded, and the terrain overly inhospitable, they sent only a small company of men and chose to focus the rest of their forces on the Keep itself.

A grave mistake.

Baring his teeth in a feral grin, he clambers to the top of the boulder, looking to the Will'O'Wisps in the brush heading his way. Falling to all fours, he flexes his limbs one by one, testing the limits of their strength; he shall need all of it. Their blood shall rejuvenate him, but will it be enough to make a difference? The army around Swartzhafen is much bigger than he can reliably torment, much less directly fight.

There! A face, a bearded man carrying a two handed sword steps into the clearing, breathing hard and kneeling to touch the furrows Niklaus claws had made. Several men stand behind him, forming up to a small squad; a dozen men at most. His sillhouette is hidden due to the cloud cover, otherwise the moon would outline his form to their fearful eyes. How man of their countrymen did he lay to waste, gutted on the cold earth? Even wounded, he is more than a match for these, and they know it.

Growling, Niklaus sets to work, launching himself from the boulder with a deep throated growl, losing the Vampire in himself to become a primal beast without thought or strategy. Landing on the Tracker, talons puncture armor like nails into wood to erupt in a fountain of gore. Retracting from the dead mans flesh, he swipes to the left and right, disemboweling men with terrible ease. Blood! He must feed. Bending his neck, he rips into the dead mans throat, swallowing down great gulps of the life giving nectar, feeling his own feeble supply becoming fortified; but not enough.

Men once more scream, half a league from the Castle Walls, and once again, Niklaus roars out in Triumph. The men of the Empire have something to Fear, and that Fear is behind them, and healing. One can wound the beast, but to their eyes, he is nigh unkillable. From the battlements, Peter would see Empire helmets turn to their rear, nervous shuffling in the ranks, sharpened ears pick up whispers of fright. How long will the battleline hold when their backs are exposed to this....monstrosity, and their front faces a Vampiric threat not seen since Vlad and the Von Carsteins themselves?

Perhaps Peter can use their fear, for soon Niklaus shall return to the fray. Tireless, he is as much a force of nature as an animal, relentless. The Empire knows this, there shall be stories of this night. Nay, Nightmares.

Post: #8

With a yell, the Arch Lector ordered his men forward. They ran at the walls, carrying ladders and ropes.. Peter whispered a few words, and a line of fire sprung up in front of the walls, burning the charging men. But it fizzled out quickly, and still the men ran on, driven by religious fervour.

The first ladders hit the walls, only to be pushed back down, but more and more came.

Post: #9

Niklaus has finished with the hunting party. Drinking deeply of the carcasses, he rips a shattered blade from his arm, the wound closing before his eyes. Pain, he can still feel. Magic still has its unhealing bite, but steel frightens him not. Looking to the west, to Swartzhafen, a great flare of light flashes brightly then peters out. Flames.

Howling into the night, Niklaus leaps toward the defense of his Liege. Underneath the beast, underneath this overpowering sense of Loyalty from some depth unknown, there is still Niklaus. That calculating, ambitious Vampire still exists, but he is buried in the here, the now. Passion controls him, Hatred, Anger, need. It is everything to him now, but there is still that kernel of Self, of identity, and as he moves, he now realizes this.

Is it really his duty to destroy these men? They are Sigmarites, true, and his loathing for their kind is beyond match. This confrontation he hurtles toward, almost compelled to seek! Is above his abilities as well and he understands this. Peter von Krahe, talented in the Arts Martial and the Dark Arts is exhausted from his long march and extended uses of the Winds. Niklaus healing capabilities are nothing short of astounding, but it has been shown that they are not infallible. His face and chest are scarred badly by the cannon blast, disfiguring him and leaving him an even more horrifyingly grotesque visage.

He is unable to control himself, even as that little part within him struggles to control his limbs once more, to subdue the inner beast that has become the outer; He no longer wishes blood, for this night. He has had his fill of many men. His limbs simply do not listen to his will, and he moves without thought or plan, seeking only to destroy the men before him.

Bursting from the treeline, his form leaps from the earth in a startling display of Agility, landing among the Artillery crews once more, laying waste to man and machine alike. Fires flare along the parapet of Swartzhafen, and the situation looks grim for both sides. Every man that falls rises again, but the humans have taken to dismembering their own dead to prevent their usefulness, at least until cremation is possible. Men turn to fight this new threat, but not before the engineer and crews are destroyed or dispersed.

Using the amazing agility gifted to him by his newfound form, he leaps into the hastily forming line of men seeking to prevent him from reaching the Vampires main force, but that is not his intention. His hatred knows no bounds for Sigmarites. There stands one man above all others who flaunts the mark of Sigmar proudly; damningly. With the sound of a cannonball, he thrusts men aside, not caring for wounds received, shallow as they are, or in finishing the down men as he, it, carves a path of destruction and death directly toward the Warrior Priest.

With a final roar, perhaps truly his final breaths, he launches himself with talons extended and grotesque maw open as the Warrior Priest stands, his hammer above his head in preparation for a deadly downstroke.

Post: #10

Men swarmed up the ladders like ants. The walls were soon awash with crimson. Men and skeletons slid on the gore to their final dooms. The men of the Empire hacked at the own fallen, making their bodies useless to replenish Peter's fast crumbling army.

"Niklaus, where are you? Peter said in his mind. He swept his blade in a wide arc, hacking through an Imperial swordsman in front of him. The magic in the weapon drew the man's soul into Peter's body, and the Vampire roared with new life.

A human swung at the Vampire's head, but Peter caught his wrist in a grip of ion, and snapped it like twig. He sank his fangs into the sreaming mortal's neck, and sucked his life from him. He tossed the empty shell aside, and waded into the fray again. Around him, skeletons and men battled. The undead never gave up, but the humans fought with an insane hatered brought on by the preaching of the Arch Lector.

Peter parried another sword blow, and punched his attacker off the wall, who fell, screaming into the men swarming around the base of the wall. But their numbers seemed hardly dented.

Post: #11

With the sound of a lightning bolt, undead flesh and Meteoric iron collide in a cascade of sparks and brilliant light. The priest had underestimated, or perhaps was unable to react fast enough to bring Niklaus down on the offense, and now finds himself entangled with four sets of rapidly gouging claws, a very powerful maw, and the intensity of madness. Uncaring for his own wounds, even as the priest calls on his arcane prowess to scorch Niklaus flesh with Holy Might, Niklaus scores wounds upon wounds on the unarmored legs and arms of his foe. The Priests hammer is useless at this short range, and with a pitiful gurgle, the priest breathes his last.

With the blindness the priest had caused by that brilliant flash wearing off, Niklaus wastes no time in shouting his defiance to the entirety of the remaining army, standing amid the middle of that sea of humanity bleeding and unbroken, and more importantly, his left foot rests on the massive hammer that the Priest wielded. Amidst an island of emptiness, uneasy humans on all sides pausing in fear of this beast that strikes with impunity in their midst, they begin to eye one another, fearful in their stances. The slick, sweet smell of fear is rancid on the air.

Placing both hands upon the earth in a predatory fashion, looking much like a Hyena defending its meal, he growls low in his throat as he turns a full three hundred and sixty degrees, pushing the men back and away from the priests body. Looking to the battlements, his glowing red eyes see Peter von Krahe handily dispatching yet another human from the crenelation edge, he stamps his fore 'legs' on the earth and howls, indicating that if Peter has not seen, Peter should see the gift that Niklaus offers you in exchange for his momentary absence. A good hound returns with gifts.

The uneasy silence about Niklaus pervades the air, the humans seem unable to decide whether to flee, or to attack. Even bleeding, obviously burned from the Priests attack, Niklaus still stands as a formidable obstacle. The undead at the walls have dealt with the majority of the siege ladders, but there are still many troops upon the earth. There need be one last push to make these men flee, but Niklaus alone cannot, will not, give it. The Priest is his. None shall take the corpse, he's earned it.

The battle has an eerie lull in tempo, the Humans not knowing whether to press the attack, or to flee; the Undead awaiting orders from an Exhausted leader and satisfied Terror. An unusual truce stands as human eyes peer into the maw of Hell, and Hell itself stares back.

Post: #12

The men roared in defiance, more angered than dismayed at the death of their leader. It would take more than that to defeat this force. They scurried up the ladders with renewed haste, eager to kill theses foul undead in the name of their God.

Peter took up a discarded blade, and fighting with two weapons, attempted to clear the gate house. Hacking the uniformed men of the Empire, up hardly making any ground he pushed along to the top of the gate.

Below, the men were piling barrels in front of the gate. Too late, Peter understood their plan. They had carried the remaining black powder, now useless for the cannons, to his gate. A terrified apprentice engineer lit the fuse, and almost in slow motion, the barrels detonated. The blast rocked the very foundations of the castle, and Peter fell from the wall. The fall would have killed a lesser creature, but as Peter pushed himself to his feet, he realised that he was not badly hurt.

The dust cleared, and Peter saw with horror that his gates had been blown clean off their hinges. The men outside the fortress saw their chance, and charged towards the gaping hole in the defences.

"To me Knights of the Raven" yelled Peter. In an instant, his Vampire bodyguards formed up behind him. They ran into the breach, slashing at the men trying to surge through. The undead held the gate, but still the tide pressed forward.

Post: #13

Just as Peter was about to give up hope of victory he became aware of the sound of drums and horns in the distance and noticed that the tide was of enemies seemed to have lessened. Rushing up the nearest stairs to the walls he saw the reason. Less than a mile away a second army was approaching the battle. In the lead were Sylvanian crossbowmen three ranks deep behind them were armoured ghoul like creatures and in their stead were thousands of skeletons all marching in unison as one.

Simon watched as his forces advanced forward before signalling them to halt. In the front the Crossbowmen halted and raised their crossbows as their captains commanded "FIRST RANK! TAKE AIM! FIRE!" A volley of crossbow bolts struck the struggling Sigmarites as they attempted to reform to face the new threat. By the time they had two more volleys had struck them breaking their defenses. Simon smiled "General Crom charge them down." Vardek Crom raised one armoured hand as a signal.

Seeing the signal the crossbowmen stopped firing and stood aside as Baalak Gul and skeletons charged forward past them and slammed into the demoralised Sigmarites.

Post: #14

As the relief force hit the Sigmarites from the rear, Peter knew that the tide of battle had turned. The attack on the ruined gate eased up, as men turned to face this new threat.

He and his knights ran to the stable, and mounted up. They sped into the courtyard, followed by ther Black Knights. The skeleton footmen cleared the battlements, and filed down stairs, taking their place behind the cavalry. Firehoof charged forward, and lept the ruins of the gate with ease. The Blood Dragon's force struck the terrified men like a thunderbolt.

Post: #15

Simon watched the Sigmarites begin to flee. "Cavalry charge now! Run them down!" he commanded. Crom raised another gauntleted hand and two regiments of Black Knights charged across the field slicing through the retreating enemy. Simon raised a goblet to his lips and took a swig of the red liquid within as captured Sigmarites were brought forward. Taking a quick look at the prisoners Simon stretched out his hand and raised his thumb and the undead slit the prisoners throats in unison. "These Sigmarites are so pathetic." Simon stated to no one in particular as the dead Sigmarites fell to the ground "Give me the Order of Morr any day." Crom turned to look at his master acknowledging his words but remaining silent.

Post: #16

Peter pulled on the reins, and slowed Firefoof to a walk. He approached his lord, and felt a shudder of discomfort at the arrogance of the von Carstein. That blood line always had an air of superiority around them, but Simon took this to a whole new level. He stood sipping from a goblet in the middle of all this carnage.

"My lord, thank-you for your assistance," Peter bowed his head, "But how did you know that I was in need of your help. As far as I was aware, no messenger was dispatched."

Post: #17

Niklaus stands on hind legs to look over at the encroaching undead horde. His nostrils flare as he recognizes the banner, memories from his former self floating to the surface.

A dining hall...Flagstones beneath our feet....Beautiful Vampiress, powerful, strong, yes...Simon? Carstein, Carstein....

Shaking his head to clear it, the terrified men of Sigmar route around his location, fleeing the encroaching horde. Their wills are broken, though there were many left alive. the undead mercilessly recruit body after body; there is no mercy for the living.

Settling down on his haunches, nigh on a hundred yards from Simon and Peters conversation, he feasts on the corpse of the fallen Warrior Priest, his jaws crunching into flesh to devour the body and soul. This is one corpse that shall never again be usable for the undead will.

Scarlet eyes, perhaps recognizable from his human state, settle on Simon without interruption. Piercing, or attempting to, the Vampires thick aura of bravura, he feasts, and for some reason unknown to him, wishes it was Vampiric flesh between his teeth.

Never tasted Vampire, yes....

Looking at Simon, he might very well be smiling, in a feral fashion among the dead and dying who even now stir with the presence of two such powerful beings. Niklaus doesn't have to speak to Peter via the newfound link, all he has to do is mistrust. The feeling is palpable, Peter will not be able to miss the sensation.

Post: #18

Simon looked over to Peter "I always knew the Sigmarites were there gathering in Stirland. I couldn't have such a large force so close but I couldn't send my armies over the Border to deal with them either without declaring war. So I sent you to the border in the hope that you would provoke them to attack and lead them within my territories where I could destroy them properly and test your loyalty."

Post: #19

"That is trickery worthy of Manfred himself. But I understand your reasoning," acknowledged Peter."If ever I doubted that you were the heir of the von Carssteins, I have been proven wrong."

"But now I have proven my loyalty with the near destruction of my home, what now? The Sigmarites will not accept this defeat for long."

Post: #20

Niklaus listens with the sharp ears he's recently acquired. The dead are restless, moving among the corpses, collecting weaponry and seeking those that can be easily reanimated. Crunching a rib in his teeth, he digs deeper within the Warrior Priests chest cavity, seeking the juicier organs as he continues to listen. His eyes flash red as he ponders the appearance of Simon von Carstein; his brain, that unconscious part of him that still reasons and thinks is working, albeit slowly.

Carstein used Peter as bait, to...Lure humans to him.
Another snap as a bone is destroyed within his maw.

Carstein will kill Peter von Krahe. Use him, then bleed him, then leave him. Carstein only cares for Carstein.

Standing on his hind legs, Niklaus stretches, taking the head of the Warrior priest and moving slowly toward the pair of Vampires speaking amid the dead. The reflection of a Sword blade against the earth catches Niklaus' eye; his disfigured, horrible visage comes back to him as a shock. The cannon did this? Grimacing, his lips distended and unable to cover his teeth, he truly is a terrifying sight. Dragging the head by its hair, its eyes wide and staring, he moves next to Peter von Krahe, sending his mistrust and doubt through the link. Though direct speak is beyond his meagre, nonexistent capabilities, his emotions should be easily read.

Mistrust. Betrayal. Anger at being used. Peter should understand well enough.