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Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
howdy, this is the second part about Willhelm. Its sort of a sequel to the other part I wrote some time ago. I would greatly appreciate any comments on it, as it is a work in progress. Heed my warning, its a tad long. ;)
EDIT: Ive corrected some grammar issues and made it easier to read. :) Enjoy! :D

***

“Gather around children, and I will tell you the tale of Willhelm the wizard.” The old man was worn by time, his hair grey and his eyes tired. He rested in an old rocking chair which creaked every time he swung it back and forth. He had become slightly hunchbacked in his later years, but still he held is head as high as he could. You could almost imagine the once proud swordsman he used to be.

The children, of all ages, gather quickly around the old man, they all knew that his stories always were something extra. The room was lit by candles and a big fireplace. The warm light kept them all on edge as the shadows danced across the walls.
“This was back in the day when I served with the 5th swordsmen regiment of proud Hochland.” The old man looked around into the eyes of all the children.

“We were called the Emperors swords, and what a proud bunch of lads we were. None could match our skill with the blade, or our skill with the ladies.” The old man chuckled before continuing.

“Anyway, the times were dire in the old empire. We were beset by enemies on all sides, orcs, beastmen and the traitors who followed the foul chaos gods. At night the houses were locked and the gates were shut. No traveller dared travel the roads at night. Only the bravest kept watch. At this time, almost all of the empires forces were gathered to repel the oncoming chaos incursion.”

The children all looked in awe as the old man mentioned chaos.

“I was with my regiment in the south of Ostland. We were dispatched under the command of General Lucius Von Koppmann, and we were to meet up with the forces from Ostland to engage the hordes of chaos. We met the foul creatures on a large plain and took up defensive positions on the far side of a river. Our artillery started bombarding their ranks and that forced them to advance upon us."

"The fight was not an easy one, the maddened northerners fought with equal fear of our blades and the wrath of their gods. My regiment was engaged and I stood shoulder to shoulder with my comrades as we defended the riverbank. The enemy lost many soldiers in the fierce stream but kept coming.” The old man suddenly stood up pantomiming out a duel with some unseen foe. His cane, which had been resting on the side of the rocking char, functioned as his sword.

“I dodged left and blocked a vicious blow with my shield.” The old man let out a war cry and stabbed in the air. He sat down again and had to catch his breath for a moment, the children in awe of his still relative skill with the blade. ”The battle was won, but not with horrific losses on our side, none of the foul enemies lived, and we burned their broken bodies afterwards. I was one of the…”

The old man was cut short by one of the smaller children. “But what about Willhelm the wizard?”

“What? Who? Oh, of course, I’m just getting to him.” Lied the old man who would have rather ranted on about himself.
“At this point there was a young man in the small town of Waldenheim deep inside the heart of the forest back in Hochland. His name was Willhelm.”

All the children smiled as the old man mentioned his name.

“His father had died defending the town some years earlier against a large band of rampaging beastmen. But thanks to him, and many of the other men from the town, the beastmen was stopped and the town survived. Willhelm was very proud of his father, and he did not feel sad because he had died in the battle."

"This was because every evening he spoke with him, and asked him for advice. But how could someone speak with the dead? I’ll tell you how, Willhelm was a wizard, and a very powerful one given regards to his mere age. He had been noticed for this by another wizard who had been visiting the town. A wizard called Heinrich, but this wizard also perished against the beastmen.”

“There are tales from ages old, when all villages had a spirit-whisperer who would contact the dead and ask them for advice and council. These individuals were highly respected for their special powers. But as time went on, people became more and more afraid of the spirit-whisperers and of the dead. This most definitely had to do with the war of the vampires who saw the undead legions gathered under the lead of the cursed Vlad Von Carstien. A mighty vampire lord from the plagued realm of Sylvanina, long may he rest.”

The old man made the mark of the hammer across his chest, before continuing.

“So, the spirit-whisperers where shunned by normal folks, and were forced to live a hermit life in the wilderness. And many were burned as heretics at the stakes of the sigmarite priests. But Willhelm never told anyone of his unique gift, and lived a normal life with his family in Waldenheim. But as time went on, the beastmen was once again stirred from their camps in the forest by the coming of chaos, and yet again went on a rampage through Hochland. They burned many villages and were heading toward Waldenheim. As I told you earlier, the larger part of Hochlands army was away in Osterland at this time so no aid would come in time to save Waldenheim. "

"One night Willhelm was awakened from sleep by a ghost appearing in his room. This was the ghost of the wizard he had met in his younger years. The ghost told him about the beastmen army, and that it was closing in on the village. There was not much time. The ghost led him through the woods and to the place where the battle between the beastmen and the hochland army had taken place seven years earlier."

"Willhelm took up position on a large rock in the middle of the field and the ghost whispered arcane words into Willhelm's ears and as Willhelm spoke these words the ground began to stir and soon the dead army clawed its way back to the world of the living!”

The old man sat quiet for some seconds to let what he had just said sink in, the children’s eyes were focused on the old man. His chair creaked.

“The army arrayed in lost regiments and took up positions to meet the beastmen. And as the two moons reached their highest peak in the sky above the army silently advanced, led by captains long dead. Willhelm had practiced the use of necromancy, the most foul art of magic, not for his own sake, but to save those he loved and cared about."

"This did not change how the world would look upon him sadly." The old man shook his head.

"The battle raged through the night and as the first rays of sun touched Willhelms skin there was no beastmen left on the field of battle. Once again the Hochlanders had triumphed!"

"Exhausted he collapsed on the rock and fell into a deep slumber, because it is not easy to channel such large amounts of magic, and it had tired his limbs. His army stood in attention before a fierce gust shattered them and leaving them as nothing but piles of old bones."

"When he awoke he was in his own bed, with his mother by his side. She had a look of concern on her face and it was obvious that she had been crying. She told Willhelm to get dressed and then led him to the centre of town. They told him that they were thankful for what he had done, but now they would have nothing to do with him, anymore. They banished him from the town, but in return for saving the town they did not alert the authorities.”

“So Willhelm wandered into the forest with only the ghost of the wizard as his companion. He could not understand why he had been treated so badly for what he had done. After weeks of solitude he began to hate the world of the living and cursed them in the name of his long dead father."

"He swore to take revenge upon the citizens of Waldenheim. Why would they bask in the light of his victory and let him stand in the dark? If he was not welcome to live amongst them in life, he would make them pay by forcing them to walk with him in death. So exactly one year after he had defended the town from beastmen, he returned to the field of battle, summoned his army once more and razed Waldenheim to the ground. The place is still today haunted by the ghosts of the plagued citizens who cling desperate to their once lovely town and so regret how they had treated Willhelm.”

The old man fell silent and stared at the children. His chair creaked. They all looked spooked and some of the smaller ones were on the verge of crying. He had not meant to scare them, but thats the way the tale went.

“You are just a stupid old man, with made up stories and should not tell them to small children!” A young lady walked in to the room with a lantern in her hands.
“You should be ashamed of yourself! Scare small children like that, no, its time to sleep now, come along now all!”

The old man smiled. “It’s just the way the tale goes, I’m sorry my dear.”

The young woman sneered at him before walking out the room, pushing the children in front of her. The old man turned his rocking chair towards the fire. The flames dancing across the wood, warming his face. He knew that the story was true. He had met Willhelm, and barely escaped with his life. But that was a story for another night, he thought to himself as the orphanage fell silent.
 

Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
Thank you Disciple! :) That means alot to me. I know its full of grammar errors and misspellings. ;) But Ill get it proofread some day, and correct them. :cool:

The next part is done and will be posted here soon. its good to see that atleast someone reads its. ;) I just hope that more people would like to tell me what they think about it. :)
 

Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
Well, here is the second or third part of the fluff about my army. I hope you like it. Please leave a comment so I know what you people think about it. :)

***

Dusk had settled over the small town, the orphanage lay silent. The old man sat in his rocking chair. He had been sitting there for the past hour, staring into the fire. His memory flickered with the flames. He remembered times gone by and things he had witness. Images burnt into his mind, images of war and death and images of love and hope. He sighed, and tilted the chair backwards and closed his eyes. At his old age, he could still remember. He was truly blessed, some of his comrades had not aged with grace. Their memories had failed them, and they barely knew their own names anymore. He saw it as his duty to tell the tales of old, to carry the stories to yet another generation. He smiled and opened his right eye.

“Come forth from the shadows, Lydia, don’t be afraid.”
A little girl stepped in to the room, clutching a rag doll in her arms. She was only 10 years old but one of the brightest little girls he had ever known.

“I, I…” She started, but was interrupted by the old man.
“You want to hear more about Willhelm don’t you?”
She nodded and sat down beside the old man by the fire.

“Very well, if you don’t tell Rosalyn about it.”
“I won’t.”
“Alright, as you may remember Willhelm was banished from his town after he had used his magic to save them. And as you also remember he came back one year later to extract his revenge upon the ungrateful citizens.”

“After this most tragic and horrible act, Willhelm grew more and more angry and swore to take revenge upon the whole living world, because he was more comfortable around spirits that he had control over than around the living with their own will.”

“But, he knew that before he could even begin to dream about marching his army upon the world, he needed to make himself stronger. The constant whispering spirit of the wizard Heinrich told him stories about a place in the middle mountains where a witch king was buried. His name had been lost in time but he carried with him to his grave the artefact that would be sure to grant Willhelm power to wage war upon the living.”

“So he set about to travel to the middle mountains and search out this burial place of the witch king. Winter came and swept across the empire and Willhelm had reached the hills which marks the beginning of the middle mountains.”

The old man gazed down on Lydia and then into the fire again.

“At this time he called himself Willhelm the wanderer, and he wrapped himself in a long black mantel, supported by a long gnarled wooden staff. There are many other stories about Willhelm the wanderer but those are not for the ears of little children. Oh no. Anyway, he came about the village of Dirksbach, where he asked around about the witch king. No one dared speak about the cursed witch king, and all his efforts to get any information at all were futile.”

“When the winter ended he set out by himself to try and find the barrow of the witch king. Following a narrow trail, led by the ghostly form of Heinrich he trotted through the landscape. The slopes began to escalate upwards which made the walk slow and tough. On the third day Willhelm stumbled upon an old way stone with ancient carvings which he could not translate.”

“Fortunate for him, but unfortunate for the rest of us, the ghost of Heinrich could. What the transcription said is lost to me, but it led Willhelm on the right track towards the witch king’s burial chamber. As he closed in on what appeared to be the entrance the clouds above grew dark as if a large thunderstorm was brewing. The smell of magic was in the air and Willhelm entered the tomb.”

Lydia was listening with every fibre in her body, she would not miss this story for anything in the world.

“As the two went inside, the living and the dead, Willhelm conjured light from the tip of his staff and when his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he could see that this ancient burial chamber also contained what seemed to be the witch kings personal body guard. The walls were carved out of the mountains it self and the images of death was hacked into them.”

“Willhelm continued on to find this artefact that would enable him to wage war. The tomb grew narrower and started to slope downwards and the air became heavy and difficult to breathe.”

“As he approached the witch kings grave he could sense something watching him. A tall man stepped forward from the shadows, he was clad in green clothes, a broad brown hat and was wearing a chain mail shirt. He introduced himself as Hans Kaupf, witch hunter of the order of Morr.”

“None is to disturb the ancient evil that is the witch king. He solemnly told Willhelm that he would personally burn him at the stakes so that Sigmar may save Willhelm’s tainted soul. Willhelm laughed and with a few arcane words the long dead bodyguard of the witch king came alive again and formed up in front of Willhelm.”

“The poor Hans did not stand a chance against the skeletal abominations and was brutally cut down. It did not take long for Willhelm to find what he was looking for. The armour of the witch king. Once he put the accursed armour around himself and strapped it on he could feel the change and was renewed with power. It enhanced his strength and made him able to move so swift no mortal could hope to stand a chance against him.”

“The coming of the night spelled doom for Dirksbach village. The dead was stirred from the graveyard and began killing the inhabitants. Willhelm walked calmly to the centre of town and summoned the dead villagers as zombies.”

“But how could he conduct such a terrible act? The answer lies in the evil armour that he wrapped around himself. The moment he had closed the leather straps around himself he was doomed. He was immediately assaulted by the ancient spirit of the witch king. They fought a titanic battle inside Willhelm’s mind. No one knows who were victorious.”

“The only thing that was certain is that he was no longer Willhelm the wizard or Willhelm the wanderer. He was now Willhelm the Witch king.”

As the old man fell silent Lydia’s eyes was filled with awe. She bid the old man good night and snuck silently out from the room and up to her bed again. The old man shook his head. Now Lydia would want to hear the next story about Willhelm, and he knew that it was one which he could not tell.

He sat motionless for many minutes and finally fell asleep. His dreams were uneasy and he wrestled in his sleep. The nightmare he had dreamt so many nights before was back again. He could hear himself scream as the large man in his dreams swept another one of his comrades from the “Emperors swords” aside.

He was the last one left living on the battle field. Surrounded by the dead and the living dead, the huge man in the strange armour pointed a bloody blade against him and said with a deep, evil voice.

“You are the only one who is to leave this place alive. Tell your emperor that he cannot stand against me. Tell him that his cities will burn and his people will all die. Tell him that the Witch king is back!”
 

Disciple of Nagash

Oldblood
Staff member
Feb 12, 2008
27,732
Again a very well written piece Boo, you don't need to worry, your story telling skills are great and the plot flows smoothly. Excellent.
 

Ghouly

Liche
True Blood
Jan 15, 2008
5,517
Prince George
Boo your story is very well wrote. I've seen people with english as their first language make more spelling mistakes then you.
 

Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
Thank you Jack Of Blades. :) I'm glad I could get your attention. ;)

Well, here's the next part. A kind of middle part one could say, to prepare everyone for the next part. Anyway, comments and criticism is as always welcome.

***

The old man had returned to his place by the fire. He sighed and let his mind rest for moment. He had seen so much in his lifetime and would not let his memories go to waste. Too bad I can’t write, he thought to himself. It was midday and all the children was outside playing. The poor orphans, whose parents had perished in some meaningless conflict, or by some random raiding of beastmen.

He thanked sigmar that the emperor had dedicated to build orphanages in every major city and larger settlements. It meant that the most of these young lads would go on to either join the army or join sigmar holy church. But what would happened with the girls, he had no idea. Maybe someone would adopt them, it was really their biggest hope of ever getting out of the orphanage before they were forced to leave.

In the old days though, no one would have cared for the young ones, and they would have been left to beg on the street or die alone in the woods. He put down his pint of ale beside his rocking chair and took a puff from his pipe. He quite enjoyed the company of the children. All he had to do was tell them stories to keep them entertained. He knew that if he ever ran out of stories, he would become uninteresting and left alone, again. He would never let that happen.

But after yesterdays storytelling and letting Lydia know more about Willhelm he wasn't sure if he would tell them the tales of Willhelm the wanderer. He had deliberately left those parts out. Indeed all that has to do with the undead is scary, but he knew that they would not be able to sleep for many night to come if he would tell them about what abominations that joined Willhelm in his search for the witch kings armour. Vampires. Those who feed on the blood of the living and shy the rays of sun.

He made the mark of the hammer across his chest and silently asked sigmar for forgiveness. No, he would not tell the little children those stories. Not yet in any case. Not unless it is absolutely called for.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He gave a thought to that young woman he had spent a night with at Dirksbach village. Her eyes were like the summer, all beauty and truth. She had stolen his hearth, and when his company marched out from the village, he had sworn to return. He could still remember her smell in their last embrace. He could still remember her touch and her laughter. He still loved her.

And as he was a man of his word he did return to Dirksbach. But what horrors he had found when he returned he dared not speak of. He never saw her alive again.

A tear rolled down his cheek. He had decided. He would tell the rest of the stories. Even the parts he had sworn never to tell anyone.
 

Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
Thank you Disciple, and here is the next part. It's getting longer and longer, because I just keep coming up with new things to write. :lol:

Anyway, please feel free to comment and critique it. :)

***

The nightmare was back. He was again fighting the living dead. Their unholy bodies broken time and time again by the righteous steel of the “Emperors swords”, but every time they were cut down, they soon arose to join the ranks again. He dodged a clumsy halberd thrust and parried a rusted blade.

The finely trained men of Hochland were not easily defeated. He cut the head of another zombie and glanced over his shoulder. A cry of agony sounded as yet another swordsman was overwhelmed and eaten alive. Tears of rage rolled down his cheeks as he turned his attention towards the enemy in front of him.

Suddenly he spotted something he could never have imagined. A sight so cruel and heartbreaking, that he dropped his blade and fell to his knees. It was a mockery of life and everything that ever meant anything to him.

She was walking with the dead.

Rosanna, the only one that had ever meant anything to him. Her once fair skin tattered and rotten, her once warm eyes now burning red with balefire, his once loved one was now a slave of undeath. Time seemed to slow down, every motion seemed sluggish and slow. He tried to scream but no sound escaped his lips.

He rose from his knees and picked up his blade. The world seemed to stop and Rosanna made her way towards him, for an instance she seemed to smile at him, but soon enough she reached out after him with a snarl and he had to put her out of her misery. Her body fell to the ground and suddenly his senses came back to him.

There were no zombies left to fight. Instead, strange robed figures were making their way towards them. Their rusted blades glowing faintly, these foes seemed to different from the slow sluggish zombies and the first sword that was raised to meet them was brutally hacked to pieces. Their blades cutting through armour as if it wasn’t even there. And a towering figure made his way through their ranks, killing all who dared oppose him.

He was the last one left living on the battle field. Surrounded by the dead and the living dead, the huge man in the strange armour pointed a bloody blade against him and said with a deep, evil voice.

“You are the only one who is to leave this place alive. Tell your emperor that he cannot stand against me. Tell him that his cities will burn and his people will all die. Tell him that the Witch king is back!”

With a scream he awoke, this bad dream would probably haunt him to the end of his days. The fire was still burning and he wiped some sweat from his forehead. He sighed and got to his feet. He needed some fresh air, sometimes the air in the orphanage seemed to suffocate him.

As he walked through the hallway and towards the front door he heard a voice from behind him.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m sure Rosanna loved you too.”

It was Lydia, she must have heard him sleep talk. The old man turned around and smiled.

“Yes, me too.”
“You know, I could not sleep either, I just keep wondering what happens next to Willhelm.”

The old man nodded and walked back to his place by the fire.
“Of course. Come along Lydia, and I will tell you the last part in the tale about Willhelm the wizard.”
 

Raodus

Ghoul
May 7, 2008
124
Texas
A great tale. I can't wait for more. You have an excellent ability to describe battles and bring the reader inside the head of the character.
 

Flailing-Axes

Skeleton
Mar 21, 2008
84
I've read through a fair part of it, I have to say it is very nice. Not without faults, of course, a few more choice adjectives insted of things like 'big' would be nice, and as you've said there are numerous errors, but they can easily be changed. A fine piece of work.
 

Boo

Vampire Lord
True Blood
Feb 13, 2008
3,195
The far north, near northrend
Thanks for the kind words guys! :) I have not written anything for this story for some time now, but seeing that it's still being read I might just finish it off.

And yes, there are multiple faults in it, and as I'm not English I have some issues with the grammar. Gah, I just don't get why you English folks have made your grammar so damn hard! ;)

But how will it end? I need to do some serious brainwork ;)

Also: 300th post! yay! :)
 

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