So while I've stopped working on my story of Kraka Ravnsvake the past 2 months I've been working on this..yes it isn't the story of dwarf. Hoping to make this into a 200 page novel eventually. Have a lot more than what I'm posting written, but I'm still working on editing. Note some of my readers are not familiar with the warhammer world so I had to add in some descriptions here and there. This is the prologue..enjoy!

The Saga of Lord Asvaldir

I have served Lord Asvaldir for years beyond counting. It must be nearly 300 years since I’ve met him, and since then I think I have been the only friend he has had. He certainly is the only one I consider a friend in this dark land, though a land we have both willingly came to for our personal gain. The story of my lord is an interesting one, and one I have wanted to tell for some time. The moment has come to share it with you, reader.

Prologue

There was once a noble Bretonnian knight, who went by the name of Balian. He always wanted to help the poor serfs of the land, and was dedicated to his family. Little did he know his dedication would lead him down a dark road…
His story begins in the land of Bretonnia, Imperial year 2203

Chapter One

Balian and his brother Louis rode into Iblan castle, the house of their father, Baron Charles Iblan. The castle was old, and not very well maintained due to the lack of skilled builders in the area, but it was still majestic. It had a central keep with one outer bailey, and four towers on the outer walls.

The Iblan family had controlled the lands around Iblan castle for hundreds of years. Their ancestor, also named Balian had built the castle during the turbulent times of Bretonnia’s founding, and since than an Iblan had always lived there.
“That was a close catch brother. I nearly thought the boar had you there,” said Louis.
“No boar can kill me!” boasted Balian.

Balian was a man of average height, about five feet nine inches. His hair was black as night, and usually kept it short. His brother Louis was two inches taller than Balian, and also had black hair as most of the Iblans did. Both were well built after many years of training. Balian was twenty one, while his brother Louis was nineteen.
The brothers rode into the stable, where they dismounted and servants came to take their horses. Balian tossed the stable boy a silver coin for taking his horse. The boy bowed his head in gratitude.
“I will never understand your feelings towards the serfs. They should be grateful we are here to protect them and not complain so much,” said Louis.

“They live a very hard life,” said Balian. “Much harder than our own and for that I pity them.”
The brothers walked into the central throne room. It was a large room, big enough to seat over one hundred people for a feast, though now only a few advisors and Baron Charles were present.
Baron Charles was in his early forties, though he looked much older, as a lifetime of war had left its strain on him. He was tall, slightly over six feet and had a short, black beard and little hair on his head.
“How was the hunt?” asked Baron Charles.

“Good father. We managed to catch a boar. I ask that you honor us by serving it at the feast tonight,” asked Balian.
“I shall! But first I have another matter I could use your help with my son. The yeomen have found a chaos cultist camp in the forest. I will not allow that filth to live. Take twenty knights and twenty yeomen and kill them. Remember to be cautious though, you never know what to expect from the chaos worshippers. I will send Arms Master Obwald to advise you.”

Chaos cultists are men who worship the dark, cruel Chaos gods of the north. They tend to hide in the forests and mountains, as they are hunted down and eradicated in the civilized realms of the south for their barbaric practices. There are four Chaos gods: Khorne, the blood god, Tzeentch, the changer of ways, Slaanesh, the dark prince and Nurgle, the god of decay. All are evil gods who wish to enslave all of the races of the world. The men of the north worship them and carry out their bidding in return for great gifts, which take many different forms, such as improved strength or knowledge. The ultimate gifts the gods grant to their greatest servants is immortality, though very few are given that gift as most are killed in battle or don’t have the willpower to follow through with all of their god’s requests. The men of the Old World, including the Bretonnians hate the Chaos gods and fight their followers.
Balian and Louis exchanged glances of pure joy. They had never been given the opportunity to fight in a real battle.
“Thank you father! We will not fail you,” said Louis.

“Obwald is waiting in the courtyard with the men. May the Lady watch over you.”
The Lady is the patron deity of Bretonnia. The peasants don’t praise her, but the upper classes worship her almost like a god. There are no priesthoods dedicated to her, but the damsels of Bretonnia, women who dedicate
themselves to her service, are the closest thing she has to priesthood. The damsels are known for their great powers of healing and magic. Many knights go on quests in her name, in an attempt to drink from her fabled grail cup which greatly enhances the skills of the drinker.

The brothers returned to the courtyard where they met with Obwald. Obwald was a big man, over six feet tall, and had instructed both of the boys in the art of the sword and lance.
“Ready boys? I look forward to seeing you both using the skills I have taught you,” said Obwald.
“We are ready Obwald. Let’s be off!” shouted Balian.

Balian and Louis were in high spirits as they rode through the countryside. It was a great summer day. The sun was shining and the fields were green, and as the passed through the village many of the serfs stopped their work in the fields and wished them good luck, as Balian was friendly to them he was well liked in the surrounding countryside. The birds were out and the countryside was full of their beautiful music. After nearly two hours they knights reached the edge of the forest.
“The yeoman estimate there is nearly one hundred cultists, but they are poorly armed and armored. We should have little trouble charging them down,” said Obwald
“Then what are we waiting for?” snapped Louis.
“Always better to scout the area first brother…you never know if they have some more heavily armed troops hidden somewhere,” cautioned Balian

“Well-spoken Balian. I advise we send a few yeomen to see what is on the other side of the camp.”
“Let’s do that, and if they are not back within an hour then we charge. You, Garth isn’t it?” said Balian.
“I’m yours to command my lord.”
“Take one man with you and scout out the camp.”
Nearly an hour later the yeomen returned.
“Did you see anything of interest, Garth?” asked Balian.
The yeomen, Garth seemed disturbed.

“In the center of the camp there seems to be some sort of altar, and I think there may be a sorcerer there…I’ve heard stories of what sorcerers can do. They say they can turn a man into dust just by looking at him!”
“Enough of your silly peasant’s tales. Whatever the sorcerer can do, he is no match for the might of a Bretonnian knight!” boasted Louis.
The knights of Bretonnia had always been a force to be feared. Armored in well-crafted plate armor and chainmail, often a family heirloom for many years, and armed with swords, shields and lances, bearing colorful and bright heraldic symbols of their noble houses. Few could resist the charge of the knights, though most knights were overconfident and rarely bothered to scout out the area for traps or diversions.

“Don’t disregard his story so quickly brother…sorcerers are dangerous. I think we should rush into the camp and kill the sorcerer quickly, before he knows what is going on,” suggested Balian.
Obwald agreed with Balian. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.”
“Finally a fight! Let’s kill the chaos bastards!” shouted Louis.
“Alright men form a wedge! On my command we charge,” Balian commanded.
The noble knights of Bretonnia formed up, with the yeomen in back to protect the flank and rear. Balian and Louis exchanged a quick glance and grinned. Finally they would put their skills to use.
“Charge!” Yelled Balian.

The Bretonnian knights thundered forward as one, and rode into the chaos camp. The cultist rushed to arms to defend themselves, but they were no match for the finest soldiers Bretonnia has to offer. The knights slayed them all, cutting them down with sword and lance and running down those who fled. The thundering of the knight’s charge shook the ground. The sound of clashing weapons and dying men soon filled the forest. Balian and Louis had grins on their faces the whole time. The charged wildly and hacked left and right, killing a cultist with every swing of their swords. Within minutes the cultist where in full flight. The brothers rode towards the altar. The chaos sorcerer seemed to be preparing some sort of spell as the brothers rode full tilt towards him. He was wearing a black robe, and looked small and frail. Quicker than one would expect from a frail man, the sorcerer turned and cast a spell at Balian and Louis. Their horses reared in fright and the brothers were thrown from their horses. Balian reacted quickly and lunged for the sorcerer. Louis groaned before losing consciousness. With lightning speed the sorcerer dogged out of the way of Balian’s sword trust and drew his own sword. For several minutes Balian and the sorcerer dueled, lunging and parrying quicker than the eye could see. The sound of their swords filled the air as they fought. Then Balian feinted for the sorcerer’s legs and quickly reversed his trust, slipped passed the sorcerer’s guard and stabbed him in the stomach. The sorcerer dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Just then Louis regained consciousness. Then the sorcerer’s eyes lit up and with his dying breath began to speak in a voice that sounded unnatural.

“Balian, son of Charles, your life shall be clouded in darkness. Your friends and king shall betray you, your family will be slaughtered and one day as I have you shall turn to the worship of the great god Tzeentch, the god of change, for change is what you have always wanted Balian. Soon enough you shall realize your destiny and return to destroy these worthless fools of the Old World who call themselves civilized. Believe what you want to believe, but this shall be your fate.”
And then the sorcerer’s body evaporated into flame, and within a few seconds all that was left was ash. For several minutes Balian and Louis were speechless.

“He just wanted to get under your skin brother. What he said could never be true…” said Louis.
“I pray to the Lady you are right brother. He was right about one thing though…I’ve always wanted change.”

What a day that was! A real battle, and a fine one. I felt immortal that day, and that Louis and I would go on to become sacred defenders of Bretonnia and would drive the enemies of our land back into the darkness from whence they came. But the sorcerer’s last words unnerved me greatly, and I could not help but think about the potent of doom he had spoken…

Chapter Two

It had been several months since the incident with the chaos cultist. After the battle there had been a great feast back at castle Iblan, where the brothers celebrated their first victory. However, they both couldn’t forget the ominous prophecy the sorcerer had proclaimed with his dying breath.
The brothers spent the months after the cultist incident continuing their lessons, and training furiously for a tournament in Bordeaux, a city about one hundred miles west of Iblan Castle. Knights from across southern Bretonnia attended. The tournament was held outside the city in a large field, where the Duke of Bordeauex had set up wooden stands and arenas for the events. Hundreds of people came from the countryside to watch. The brothers arrived a day before the tournament and set up their tent outside the city like most of the other knights.

“This time I think I will go for the jousting event. You think I have a chance of winning brother?” asked Louis.
“I’ve never seen a better jouster than you brother except for Obwald. I think you can win…though I hear that dog Margath is here. He will be hard to defeat.”

Margath Grandir had been the enemy of the brothers for as long as they had lived. He was tall, about 6 ft. and was a very handsome man, with blond hair, but very arrogant as many Bretonnian nobles were, and cruel. The feud between the Iblan and Grandir families went back many hundreds of years, though no one was even sure what started the feud. In bad times there had even been small skirmishes on the border between the Iblan’s and Grandir’s lands.

“I hope he is here so I can beat him. What event will you join?”
“The melee. I think I will use my mace, more skilled with that than I am with the sword.”
“I’ll never understand why you like the mace. Such an ugly weapon..”

“But useful. Much better against a heavily armored opponent than the sword.”
“Still…I heard that Lady Egret will be here as well.”
Balian’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. For several years he had been courting her, and they were both very much in love, though her father said he would only marry her to a man who had won a tournament. Her father was the Baron of Kargon, lord of a castle next to the sea near Bordeaux. Margath also wanted to marry her (though she hated him), which caused more hatred between Balian and him.

“That is good to here. This is my chance then…I win the tournament, then I can win here hand! Though I’m sure Margath is thinking the same thing.”
“You can beat him. We should get our rest. Long day tomorrow.”
“Right you are. Goodnight brother.”
The next day was a splendid day, as the sky was perfectly clear and the sun shone brightly. Many nobles from all over the land had come to compete. Balian and Louis armored themselves for the tournament, resplendent in their shining armor and bearing the symbol of house Iblan on their overcoat, a silver serpent on a red and black background.

“You should find Lady Egret before the events begin.” Said Louis “I’m sure you will fight harder if she gives you a token.”
“I was thinking the same think myself. And speaking of the Lady, there she is up in the stands. I shall go speak to her.”
Lady Egret was a small girl with blond hair, and very beautiful. Her father was a proud man and would only wed his daughter to a well-established man who was well known throughout the land, and had won a tournament.
“Lady Egret!” Balian yelled to her
“Balian! How good to see you. I was hoping you would come. My father is here. If you win this tournament, he will surely allow us to be wed!”
“That gladdens me to hear my lady. I would fight all the harder if I had a token of your love.”
“I will gladly gift you that, my noble knight” Lady Egret blushed.
Egret reached down from the stands and handed Balian her scarf, who then wrapped it around his arm.
“I shall win this for you, my lady!” exclaimed Balian. Just then Margath rode up.
“Her token means nothing Balian, for I will win this tournament and marry Egret soon after. If I’m in a good mood I may even invite you to the wedding,” sneered Margath.

“You can only defeat me in your dreams Margath. By the end of the day you shall be the one who lies defeated, I swear it” said Balian. The two opponents rode off to join the rest of the combatants.

The duke of Bordeauex gave a speech proclaiming the honor and skill of all the combatants that came that day, and wished them all good luck. Balian did not participate in the first event of the day, the jousting event, but Louis did. Louis did well, and advanced to the last round. But his opponent was Margath, who unhorsed Louis and won the jousting event. Next was the swordsmanship event, in which Balian decided to partake. He won, only by a small margin after defeating one of Margath’s cousins. Then came the last event, the general melee in which combatants fought with any weapon they wanted. With Margath and Balian both having one event won under their belt, whoever won this one would win the tournament. It went on for many hours and as sunset approached, the last fight began with Balian fighting Margath for the title of grand champion. A large space was cleared for the last fight, and over one thousand people gathered in the stands to watch the fight. The Duke and several other prominent nobles watched the fight. Balian fought with the mace, while Margath fought with a sword.

“So Balian it comes down to you and me…and whoever wins this gets to wed the lovely Egret as well. I’m looking forward to our wedding ceremony. Perhaps if I’m feeling kind I may even invite you.”
“Well see who’s talking in a few minutes…”
They charged each other, and came together in a mighty clash. Balian opened with a quick overhand attack towards Margath, who dodged out of the way. Margath countered with a stab to the stomach, which Balian blocked with his shield. After nearly twenty minutes of fighting both combatants were bruised and bleeding in a dozen places. But they fought on, the sound of their clashing weapons filling the arena. The crowd went wild, shouting Balian and Margath throughout the fight. After fighting for nearly an hour, Margath finally thought he saw his chance as Balian left his guard open. He quickly lunged forward, only to see he had fell for Balian’s trap. He quickly swung his mace in from the right and bashed Margath’sword arm, breaking his fingers. His sword fell to the ground, and he buckled over in pain.

“Yield, Margath!”
“Never!” he shouted, and lunged at Balian.
Balian bashed him in the head with his mace and knocked him out cold. The crowded erupted into a frenzy of celebration, began chanting his name. The duke stepped down from the stands to crown him champion of the Bordeaux tournament. Despite the fact that he felt more bruised and bashed up than ever before, Balian had never been happier before, as the lady Egret would now be his bride. Before he fell asleep from the exhaustion of the fight, the last thing he remembered that day was the smile of joy on her face.
That day was the best of my life. I had defeated my nemesis, won the respect of knights across the land, and won the hand of the women I love. I felt everything was now going my way, and that I would live a happy and full life. How wrong I was…
Balian slept past noon the next day as he recovered from his minor wounds.

“Balian, wake up!” said Louis. Slowly Balian woke up.
“Why…? Winning a tournament is hard physical work you know.”
“Well there are more important matters now. Norse raiders were spotted a few miles up the coast making landfall near a small village. The duke has called every knight under arms to join him in an hour on the tourney field to drive the Norsemen off.”
Balian quickly sprung out of the tent and ran off to get armored up.
The Norse are a harsh people who live in the land of Norsca, across the sea of claws to the north of Bretonnia. Their land is cold and mountainous, and making a living there is hard. The Norse sail the world in their longships and raid the coasts of many nations, returning to their villages laden with plunder. The majority of them worship the chaos gods, as Norsca is on the edge of the Shadowlands under the influence of chaos.

Within an hour nearly one thousand knights were suited up and ready to right out to drive back the Norscans. Balian had the place of honor beside the duke, as champion of the tournament. Much to Balian and Louis’s pleasure Margath’s hand had been injured badly in the tourney and was unable to join the army. As the sun set the small army approached the Bretonnian village. There were about fifty homes in the village. All were crude, mud and thatch huts. There were fires burning throughout the village, and accept for a few dead serfs lying on the ground, no one was to be seen. The duke, his guard and the brothers rode into the town at full gallop. As they reached the edge of the village they saw the Norscan ships cast off from the shore. At the bow of the nearest ship, a very large and muscular Nord, who had a thick, red beard, wearing little armor and bare chested, raised his massive battle axe in a mock salute. Balian rode up the shore and called out to him.

“We shall meet again Norscan, and next time you shall not escape my wrath!” Yelled Balian
The Norscan seemed to smile as if he was looking forward to their next meeting. Balian turned back and dismounted with the duke and his guard to observe the damage.
“Look at these poor people! They never stood a chance against the savage Norscans. If only we had left sooner” said Balian.
“They are only serfs, brother. Weep not for their deaths, their lives were useless anyway” said Louis.

“I’m with your brother on this Balian. I have many serfs, the loss of one hundred or so is nothing to mourn” said the duke of Bordeaux.
Balian turned away to hide his look of disgust. He loved his brother, but sometimes he couldn’t stand is lack of compassion towards the serfs, and the rest of the Bretonnian nobility were no better. Perhaps one day, he will improve the conditions for the serfs, at least in his fief, and make living standards for them better. The thought made him think of what the chaos sorcerer had said about always wanting change…

Chapter Three

Balian spent several days in Bordeaux, dining with the duke and enjoying the company of Lady Egret, who was now his bride-to-be as her father accepted the marriage. The ceremony would take place in a week’s time in Iblan Castle. Balian’s stay in Bordeaux was also improved as Margath left Bordeaux the day after the Nord attack in anger and shame. Balian enjoyed his time greatly, and spent his days sparring with his brother and the duke’s sons, discussing with the duke matters of the realm, helping some of the poorer people in the city much to the horror of the duke and his household, and talking with his beloved Lady Egret. Six days after the Nord attack, Balian, Louis, Lady Egret, her father and some of his retainers left for Castle Iblan. They arrived later in the day, where they were warmly greeted by Charles. The next day Balian and Egret were wed, and there was much happiness and celebration in the castle. That night, Balian thought he had everything going well for him. In the past few weeks, he had fought his first battle, won his first tournament and married the woman he had always wanted to marry, and after his discussions with the duke was well on his way to becoming a prominent noblemen in the Bordeaux Dukedom. But he also realized that a lot of change had happened in his life in the past two weeks…and that made him think of the sorcerer’s words. And late that night at the wedding feast, everything went wrong…
“Three cheers to the newlywed couple!” yelled Louis, who had been drinking a lot that night.

The crowd cheered, and there was much merrymaking throughout the hall. Balian was dressed a finely made silk tunic, and Lady Egret wore a beautiful dress. The hall looked better it had been in years, as Charles had hired builders to come make repairs and add decorations just before the wedding. But just then a loud scream was heard throughout the hall, and suddenly everyone fell silent. Then a yeoman, who had lost one of his arms and was covered with blood, staggered into the hall.

“My lord, there are enemies about in the castle!” he shouted, before collapsing from blood loss.
Chaos immediately broke out throughout the hall. The women screamed and the men scrambled for the armory. As the men ran out of the hall, they were shot by longbow men outside the hall. Balian who always had a sword with him drew it quickly, and with Lady Egret behind him made for his father’s throne, where Charles and his bodyguards stood ready to push back any invaders. Just then the smell of smoke filled the room, and Balian realized whoever was attacking the castle was probably setting it ablaze. The doors to the hall burst open and Margath with fifty knights at his back, all of them Bretonnians.

“Well looks like I’ve interrupted the wedding feast! How sad. Seems this won’t be a happy day after all.”
“Margath, I know you are angry over your loss at the tournament, but I beat you fairly and honorably…bursting into my home like this is uncalled for” said Balian.
“Oh but it is Balian. You see when you beat me in the tournament you crushed all of my dreams and took the lady I have always wanted as my wife for your own. But that isn’t all…you see though it isn’t just me you have angered. The Duke of Bordeaux is angered as well. As Lady Egret’s father does not have a son, you will inherit both your father’s lands and her father’s, making you too powerful. The duke realizes you are an intelligent man and does not want you competing with his power, and as he has the ear of the king, he is in on this as well. Also your compassion towards the serfs is something all of us nobles despise. I just thought I would let you know how hated you are in certain circles in Bretonnia Balian. And now it is time for me to have my vengeance.”

“Over my dead body!” bellowed Charles. Louis, Charles and his guards charged Margath and his men.
“Egret, get to the secret stair behind the throne!” yelled Balian
“No I’m not leaving without you!” she pleaded.
“You must! Now go!” Balian charged into the battle. Lady Egret refused to abandon Balian, and retreated to the edge of the room to watch the battle from a safe distance.
After a few minutes all of Charles’ knights were dead, and only Balian, Louis and Charles were left, and were fighting back to back, with a pile of dead Grandir men around them. They were all tired and suffering from several cuts, while Margath had plenty of fresh and armored men, while Charles’s and his sons had none.
“Time to finish this,” said Margath.
His men charged in from all sides, hacking wildly at the three remaining Iblans. Margath pushed his way into the melee, and engaged Charles. He was tired, while Margath was fresh and half his age. Within a minute Margath pushed him back and slashed open his stomach with his sword.
“NO!!!” Balian and Louis cried in disbelief.
Louis made a mad lunge for Margath, filled with anger but little skill. Margath easily sidestepped the attack and trust his sword into Louis’s neck. Blood started spurting out of his neck, and he fell to the ground.
“NOOO!!!!” Yelled Balian

He too then lunged for Margath, though didn’t let his anger blind him. Margath parried the blow and countered, relentlessly pushing Balian back across the throne room, which was now ablaze. Balian knew he was a better fighter than Margath, but he had no armor while Margath was wearing full plate, and Balian was exhausted while Margath was fresh and ready to fight. After a few minutes of fighting, Balian fell to the ground, bleeding from nearly two dozen cuts. Just then when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, he saw one of Margath’s men holding a struggling Lady Egret, who had refused to leave Balian and had been hiding near the back of the throne room throughout the battle. Most of the ceiling beams were on fire now, and the room was getting hot.
“So you see Balian, the tables have turned. Perhaps you know have some understanding of how I felt the day of the tournament when you beat me. Have you ever heard of the phase an eye for an eye? Well I don’t believe in that. I think more like you take my eye, I take your head,” said Margath.
“I swear Margath, one day I will find you, and I shall have my vengeance, no matter how long it takes or what I need to do to achieve it. I may have shamed you on the day of the tournament, but I didn’t kill your family, nor destroy your home! And Lady Egret never wanted to marry you! You are a very evil man, Margath, and you have no honor.”
“Honor? I’ve always thought that was a silly notion. And I care not that Lady Egret does not want to marry me. She is mine now, to do as I please. Now I think I will be off…and, no I’m not going to kill you. I want you to live with the knowledge that I killed your family, destroyed your home, and have taken your wife. Goodbye Balian, I think I shall thankfully never see you again.”
“Margath!! You think you can get away with this! I shall have my vengeance!”

Margath paid Balian no heed, and walked out of the burning castle with his men and Lady Egret in tow, as Balian repeatedly called Margath’s name. As the castle started to burn and fall apart, Balian summoned the strength to pull himself out of the castle. He limped into the village beneath the castle, where Margath had slaughtered everyone. Balian looked back at his burning home, and fell to the ground. He stayed there for several hours, and wept for all he had lost.
...........

I awoke a broken man. My home destroyed my beloved brother and father killed, and the women I love taken by my mortal enemy. If I am to seize my vengeance, I fear I will have to make a pact with the very forces of darkness I have pledged to fight.

Balian awoke the next day only a few hours before sundown. Somehow he had not lost too much blood, though he felt very weak. He limped into one of the serf’s hovels, where he found some food. Then he set off towards the woods, in the direction of the chaos cultist camp he had destroyed a few months ago.
He arrived there an hour after sundown, and went to the altar. As it turned out, much to Balian’s sadness he realized the sorcerer had been right so far. While Balian had always despised the Chaos gods, on the verge of death and with nowhere to go, he saw no other choice.
Balian approached the altar and kneeled.
“Great Tzeentch, changer of ways, I pray that you give me the strength to bring change to this land, and to destroy the foolish nobles of this realm. I offer my service to you for as long as I live, if you but give me the strength to seek my vengeance.”
In a voice that chilled Balian to the bone, he heard his answer:
“I accept your bargain, mortal.”

Currently working on Part Two: From Breton to Norscan.