Out of a sudden we started to write some in character fan fiction in our Bitterstone Thunderers guild thread.

So to clean it up a little I will put them here in a directly chronological order. the posted by means, which author wrote the following short text.

Enjoy.

Postby Thunderforge

'Stumpi' Cogwasher wiped the sweat from his eyes and gasped. He'd never done so much running around in his life! Having been sent south to collect confidential documents at the command of his betters, he'd enlisted to aid the Nordland defence.
"Just not what we're used to up in the mountains, sir" he panted. "Stand in a line behind the shields and guard the beer, that's always been my job... we let our ironbreakers do the hard bit!"
He poked his finger down the barrel of the rifle he'd been lent and inspected it critically. "We don't get to use these, our ol' King got shot in the arse once, so they've been banned, see?"

Captain Ardisson had been scanning the distance for sign of the enemy, and called for advance. "Who are you anyway, lad?" he asked as he set off toward Festenplatz.

Stumpi grabbed his wrench up and shoved the rifle under one armpit. "Bjarni, Sir. Of the Clan Cogwasher; Least Engineer. They call me Stumpi, see? 'cause of me leg, sir..."

Ardisson had indeed noted the engineer's wooden leg, and the awkward gait it gave him. One detail nagged at him though; "Least, did you say?"

Stumpi looked bashful for a moment "Lord Surt Thunderforge said 'e was Chief Engineer, and that it was important t' know where everyone stood. My job is to oil the hinges, sir, on the doors, sir. The ones that stay locked. For the closed off mineshaft and such. Like I said, sir, Stumpi Cogwasher, Least Engineer."
He managed to wince and salute at the same time, on the run, to Captain Ardisson's back. He knew the Captain hadn't heard most of what he'd said, but that was Stumpi's role in life, bottom of the stack. But, he thought, as he thumbed another round into the gun, if there weren't no-one at the bottom, there wouldn't be anyone at the top...

Postby Glorian » Sun Aug 28, 2016 11:53 am

Lesti Ardisson looked ahead. The burning ruins of this town looked like a mouth of broken teeth. And this mouth have swallowed a lot of good Thunderers already. He have forgotten how often they have taken New Emskrank back. The Regiments Book of Grudges might know for sure.

While the column marched he thought of that latest Recruit. 'Stumpi' Cogwasher, by the Ancestors! It was like Sergeant Drengk always said. "The Karaks send their best." The best of the ones they don't need for their own armies Lesti added in his mind.

Well he breath, can hold a gun and follow orders. That is all he needed from a recruit.

"Recruit .... Cogwasher! You think that gun is a trunk to wander around like you are on a evening stroll with your lassie!?"
Lesti barked at the new recruit.
"Hold it in both hands! And if I see you again leaving your powder horn alone on the ground I will make sure it will be knotted to your beard!"
On a second thought maybe breath, holding a gun and following orders wasn’t enough.

Postby Thunderforge » Sun Aug 28, 2016 12:09 pm

On the other hand, thought Stumpi, who had been shouted at his whole life, maybe it wasn't so bad here...

Postby Noergl » Sun Aug 28, 2016 8:52 pm

„Cursed be that bloody southern rainy weather! “
His boots sank into the mud and every step he took was accompanied by a sucking noise that was clearly to be heard even upon the constant rain. Water was pouring into the holes his feet made in the ground… `…just like new recruits and young beardlings filling up our ranks and replacing the positions of our fallen comrades. Damn war, so many brave lads gave their live to defend these umgi lands! ´

He shook his head and again followed the path between the tents to the far end of the camp.
He had just made his daily report to the captain about their losses and had received the list with the new recruits. Again, the same drill as always. Basic tactics, weapon and combat exercises, fitness training… and much too soon in his opinion the newbies would have to face the grim realities of the battlefields. Well, they wouldn´t like him, they would call him names behind his back and they would curse the drill… but he tried to convince himself that in the short training time he would do his best to prepare them… and perhaps even see a few of them grow into full thunderers or longbeards in the days to come.

He took a deep sip from his flask and narrowed his eyes as water was running from his bushy brows and hindering his view. Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six… that had to be the new recruits tent.
He straightened up before he went inside. The murmur and laughter died abruptly. “Attention!” someone was shouting, but he waved his hand and answered with a direct “At ease, lads. Just shut up and listen…and fetch me a stool, will ya. There´s a good lad.” He sat down in the middle of the tent and his one good eye was mustering the dwarfs around him.

“Heja lads, me name is Finvjer Hugnirsson, I’m the sergeant around here and I’m the one the captain will blame if you beardlings don´t do your job properly. And then I will get really pissed and believe me, you don´t want that. So I hope we understand each other. And now…

Welcome lads in the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers regiment. I have your enlistment papers right here… and also I’m bloody wet and tired and I don´t have the slightest intention to do this bureaucracy crap tonight! I hope you all agree, that a good ale as a welcome present is better than a long and tedious speech, and so I have this small barrel right here under my cloak that speaks for itself. You´re welcome.”

He watched the astonished recruits and smiled when they slowly and shyly filled up their mugs.
“Cheers lads! I will leave you now, tomorrow at sunrise we will start with the good stuff…meaning early morning exercises… and then we will make some proper soldiers out of you.”
Just before he left the tent he turned around a last time.

“One more thing. Who of you is Bjarni Cogwasher? To me, recruit!”
He stared for a moment at the dwarf standing before him. As always the mix between his good right eye and his blind milky left eye seemed to unnerve his counterpart.
“Well laddie, the captain has mentioned you to me. You will report at 10am to me, understood?”
Without waiting for an answer he turned around and marched outside into the pouring rain.

Postby Thunderforge » Mon Aug 29, 2016 12:36 pm

The fresh sea air tugged at Stumpi's comb-over, the lapping waves soaked into his boots. His head thumped from the previous night's drinking. What had they done again? He remembered drinking the strong stuff the sergeant had given them, then Olvur, the recruit from Kislev had pulled out a jug of home brew... Then someone had suggested popping out to the Grey Lady, oh yeah, then they met those elves who said they could get them in the Festenplatz Arms...

He sat up on the beach rock and realised he was naked. Well, apart from his boots, hammer and tool belt.
What in Gazul's Grindstone was 'skinny dipping' and why had it seemed such a good idea?!
An Imperial Guard leaned on his halberd and regarded him cheerfully as he rolled a cigarette. "Morning beardo!" he said. "Good night was it?"
Stumpi tried to cover all of his exposed skin and looked around for his rugged workshirt. "Probably, have you seen a blue tunic?"

"Nah, here, use this" the guard flung an old window-drape to him. It had embroidered pine-martins. "Is that shouting anything to do with you?"
Up on the cliffs a Norscan voice boomed out orders "One-Two-Three! One-Two-Three! Front Rank ADVANCE!!"

Stumpi remembered the instruction from Sergeant Finjver and leaped up in a panic. "What time is it?!"
"Stead on" calmed the guard, "It's twenny past ten... You've got plenty of..." He trailed off as he watched the dwarf hammer up the hill, wrapped in a pine-martin drapery. His wooden leg left a trail of pock marks in the damp sand.

"Join the Griffins they said, see the sights they said." He lit his cigarette as the dwarf disappeared from view. "They should really be more specific..."

Postby Glorian » Mon Aug 29, 2016 6:46 pm

In the command tent Lesti Ardisson shuffled through the pile of papers that clocked his portable writing desk. Different request forms, notes from the Quartermasters that the stockpiles of Blackpowder was low, several promotions. Some of them so old that Sergeant Finvjer has already stamped the KIA runes on them.

This has to end the dwarven Captain thought. With all this paperwork it was a miracle they had the time to fight a war in between. One of the notes caught his eye. Very fine paper and a finely handwriting of an artisan. An invitation tot he High Elf Ambasadors banquet.

„Ach, Krutt!“ Lesti said to himself. The banquet was dated to the last week. On a second thought he was still alive and an evening with elven musik and fleshless meals was more dour than a dwarven funeral.

He checked his finely „Made in Zhufbar“ clock and said to himself: „One more minute and you are a case fort he firing squad.“ From outside of the tent he heard the drill trainings of the new recruits. The Sergeant was in his element, shouting and explaining at the same time. The Recruits should be drenched in sweat by now.
Suddenly the door canvas flapped into the tent and Lesti could hardly believe his eyes. At the same time panting and trying to stand still stood there Recruit Cogwash. He raised his left hand and gave a very bad try at saluting while stammering something like: „Sir … Recruit … Ardisson … Sir Reporting for ah ... as requested!“

„By the Ancestors!“ Burst it from Lesti. He looked the Recruit up and down. The Buttons on his Hauberk were closed in the wrong order, his beard looked like two squirells had there a fight about who was the furry king under the mountain and he stank after at least four different kinds of alcohol.
Lestis reight eyelid began to twitch instantly. It started in Troll country half a year ago after an mob of Orc Boarriders slammed into the first rank. A dozen Thunderers died instantly, but Lesti survived unharmed. Well not physically harmed it seems.

The regimental Priestess of Valaya has said to him later he should look after himself and try to avoid stressfull situations. He has laughed at that advice. He is trying to win a campaign against mad orcs, crazy humans and pale emotionial distressed elgi while herding a bunch of never grown up Dwarfs who are at each others throat, completely drunk or both.
And that lad Cogwasher striggered his stress eyelid in an instant.

„Attentshun!“ he barked. His Eyelid increased its twitching frequency.
„Stumpi“ Cogwasher lowered his left hand.
„Who said you could lower that hand Recruit! You will salute me as long till I retaliate with my own salute! Is hat CLEAR!“
Cogwashers hand shot back to his temple. This time with the right hand. „Aye!“
Lesti glared at him for a little longer. More and more details were obvious to Lesti; What the Recruit has eaten yesterday, where he has slept and what he has drunk. His Hauberk was like a live menu card. Was that lip-red on his collar? His right eyelid was twitching so fast Lesti felt like he was in a mine cart, driving through the dark tunnels only seeing lanterns flashing by.

„If I ask him now what he has done yesterday my right eye will explode“, thought Lesti.
He saluted the Recruit and released him from his torment. Rubbing his right eye, while closing the left eye he began to talk to the recruit.
„In your recruitment papers is mentioned that at your last post you sorted the requests at your guild.“
„Aye!“ Cogwasher replied. „I sorted the request to my guild into different kinds of importance, escpecially the paper that could go to the privy.“
„Hmm, so you could read Reikspiel then?“ asked Lesti, who had suddenly a good idea what to do with the elven Ambassadors Invitation.
„Aye, Captain.“ Came the answer.
„Good. Good.“ Lesti concluded, he handed the Recruit a formular. „Fill that out, it is your promotion to be my adjutant.“
His sore and red trimmed eyes were about to burst out of Stumpi’s face. „Captain?“, he began.
„Your duty will begin tomorrow. Take this!“, Lesti handed the dazed and more than usual confused Stumpi a small sheet of paper.
„That is an request for a quill, ink and the usual gear of an regimental adjutant. You will accustom quite fast I’m sure.“
You will be dead before winter, was what he thought.

„Good, now Recruit Cogwasher, you are dismissed. “
Cogwasher saluted and turned to leave the tent. His face a battlefield of confusion and disbelief. Turning his back to the dwarven Captain, Lesti saw that an enthusiastic lad has painted an naked elf lass to the backside of Cogwashers uniform. Clearly the artisan was very optimistic of what elgi lasses had been hiding under their long skirts.

„Recruit!“, he began, but instantly his right Eye had remembered what was expected from it and began pounding again.
„Aye Captain!“ Cogwasher replied, while saluting with both hands for good measure.
„On a second thought, nothing, could you please send the Sergeant to me if you see him?“ Lesti replied while turning his back on his new adjutant.
„Aye Captain!“ came Cogwashers reply. He liked already the Army. Everytime he said ‚Aye Captain!‘ everyone was happy with him. And he was promoted on his first day. I couldn't get any better this very day.
He left the tent and almost ran into Sergeant Finvjer.

„Ehrm … Sergeant Sir, the Captain wants to see you.“
Sergenat Finvjer stepped towards the Recruit and brought his eyes a hand broad in front of Cogwashers own eyes. So close that the Recruit could see the small veines in the Sergeants eyes that seem to grow from small red streams into big red reiksized rivers.

„Is that so recruit?“

Postby Noergl » Mon Aug 29, 2016 8:06 pm

„Left right…left right…halt…turn around…and again…left right…“
I can´t believe it he thought to himself. The early morning roll call had been a disaster. The new recruits hadn´t gone up, their uniforms had been in disarray, they weren´t washed, and it was clear to see that some of them had a night out with lots and lots of drinking… this wasn´t a good start, no sir, not a good start at all. The Captain had just raised an eyebrow and gave him the look… oh yes, he knew that look. Too long had he served under Captain Ardisson, he understood his commands most of the time before the Captain had even given them. And this time that eyebrow raise was the same as if he had said Sergeant, this troop looks horrible, I expected more from the new recruits, even if it´s their first day. Be sure you get that sorted out! I hope we understand each other… And then he just gave his salute and marched into his tent. Wonderful. Great. That´s what softness and kind words get you. He looked at the bunch, grinded his teeth and took the recruits list. Better get it over with…and fast.
Gendisson…here. Krongarsson…here. Bernidottir…here. Cogwasher… Cogwasher?
Damn, and now that recruit was missing too. This would be a very very shitty day.
“Aye lads and lasses, listen up. I give you 15 minutes, and then I will see you lot here again. With descent uniforms, combed hairs, and full field packs… and pray to the ancestors when your gear leave something to be desired. Diiiiismissed!”
He watched them running to their tents. Lighting his pipe he looked around. Yesterday’s rain had changed the drill ground into a mud field… that would do nicely. But what about that missing recruit? He thought about giving a report to the Captain…nah, he seemed too busy today and surely didn´t wanted to be bothered by something like this. He inhaled deep and started to cough immediately. Curses… he was kidding himself. The Captain would be furious and Finvjer hadn´t the slightest intention to earn his wrath so early in the morning. That Cogwasher thing had to wait until the drills were over…

“Left right… left right…”
After 2 hours of drill in the mud the recruits looked like some monsters had crawled out of the swamp.
“Halt! At ease…short rest!” Finvjer just wanted to end the drill, when his eye caught a strange figure running between the tents. It had to be a dwarf, that was for sure…but wrapped into some colored linen like a bathrobe? Finvjer narrowed his eye…that was Cogwasher, and any second now the whole recruits regiment would see him and burst into laughter… Curses! The captain would come out and see what the ruckus was, and then…
“Attention! Mortar fire! Take full cover! Hit the ground now! Heads down into the mud! Don´t dare to take your heads up until I tell ya!” As one the recruits dived into the dirt. Finvjer looked closely but not one of them dared to peek around. He gestured to Cogwasher to get into his tent, and the recruit vanished as fast as he had come. Not bad for a wooden leg.
“Oi ya lazy bunch, get up. Drill is over for now! Go into yer tents, clean up and rest for an hour. Then get some lunch, and after that we will meet in the mess at 2pm sharp. Theory this afternoon. And now…move! Diiismissed!”
The mud-caked dwarfs dispersed and Finvjer marched into the mess tent. “One ale, make it a big one, from the good stuff.” Ten minutes later he went out again. What a morning! At least the afternoon should be quiet and without anything out of the order. Someone bumbed into him…

„Ehrm … Sergeant Sir, the Captain wants to see you.“
Sergeant Finvjer stepped towards the Recruit and brought his good eye a hand broad in front of Cogwashers own eyes. So close that the Recruit could see the small veins in the Sergeants eye that seemed to grow from small red streams into big red reiksized rivers.

„Is that so recruit? Then I better hurry up, don´t ya think? And after that, we will have a nice and quiet talk, we two dawis. I´m very anxious to hear about your mornin´, Cogwasher. And then I will tell ya something about mine!” Finvjer turned around abruptly and left the recruit standing there.
“... and then there will be a reckoning, oh yes, by my hairy arse, there will be a reckoning!” murmured the old dawi and with a sense of foreboding he entered the Captains tent.

Postby Thunderforge » Mon Aug 29, 2016 11:15 pm

Stumpi watched the sergeant squelch off toward the captain's tent, on the whole things were going very well; he'd not been particularly told off about being late and the sergeant seemed nice, even wanted to have a chat about his first morning.
Then there was the promotion, a Cogwasher knew they were never given a 'good' job, but filing papers? it wasn't even heavy lifting 'cause down here in manling country they used paper not carved slates. For a dwarf the written word was of profound importance, so paperwork was a mixed blessing, being itself a sacred object but it's subject something trivial like pending duplicate jurisdiction dockets. Still, thought Stumpi, they won't let me make decisions about what's important around here, no need to worry about that. He returned to the recruit tents to sort out his uniform and maintain his tools and gun. As he did so he tasted the machine oil thoughtfully. "Not a bad mix, probably too high in thin organics, would be worth changing the ratio up to 5:9:1 because of the salt air..."
He might not know much about paperwork, but oil? He was a natural.

Postby Glorian » Tue Aug 30, 2016 4:06 pm

Sergeant Finvjer entered the tent, took of his regimental hardhat and saluted. Captain Ardisson barely looked up from his desk and waved him over to enter.

“Ah Sergeant come in, I have told you you could stop that saluting when we are alone. A dawi who has dragged me wounded through half Blackfire Pass didn’t need to salute in front of me.” Lesti said.
“Aye Captain, but this would be not proper.” Finvjer replied. His heavy norse accent kept him rolling the Rs like he had hidden some kind of wildcat in his beard.
“True” answered Lesti and returned the salute in earnest. “How are the recruits doing?” he asked.

Sergeant Finvjer started to explain the morning training in detail but Captain Lesti Ardisson was already again reading through his papers. He had asked the question a hundred times and most of the times the Sergeant answered similar things. If there would be a problem with a recruit or anything like that the Sergeant would have reported it already. Of course the stuff where Finvjer has kicked some recruits in their sitting department to get them moving faster, or slammed a dirty gun into the stomach of a recruit at a weapon inspection was stuff the officers usually didn’t want to hear. So he left it out.
“….they will be ready in six to seven weeks sir.” Finvjer finished.

Lesti looked at the Sergeant and said,
“Aye, that would be good. But I fear we have no more than four days.”

“Four days! By the Ancestors, in four days some of them could hardly bind their shoe laces, but firing in formation is completely out of question.” blurted it ouf the Sergeant.

“I absolutely agree Sergeant, but this came this morning.” Lesti held up a small parchment. Finvjer was a little slow on reading, but he could see the sigil of the High King from where he stood.

“The crazy Chaos Umgis have broken through the manling armies and are on their way to Praag. We are about to march out within four days. There is a black powder resupply on its way to the New Emskrank docks.”

“Captain, you did know the docks are in the enemies hand?”

“Of course Sergeant, that’s why we will retake it, get our supplies and march out immediately.” Lesti replied.

Sergeant Finvjer looked for a moment at the Captain before he answered,
“Aye Captain.” Any other answer wouldn’t have changed a thing. The Captain had his orders, and now they were his. That it was madness to storm New Emskrank with half the regiment filled up with recruits was now handed down from the High King, over the Captain to Sergeant Finvjer. Even if it was madness, thought Finvjer, there was method in it.

“Make them ready as best as you could. The ones that survive New Emskrak will be ready for Kislev.” said Lesti while he rubbed his right eye.
Finvjer recognized it, but kept looking straight like on a parade ground. He thought everytime he saw the Captain doing this to what the longbeard Okrim at home always had said. “No Dawi comes without scars out of the war.” He himself had lost an eye and the Captain... Finvjer understood what that meant.

“But cheer up Sergeant.”, Lesti continued. “We will be part of a bigger relief force.”

“We will get support by the dwarven Throng of Karak Norn?”. Finvjer didn’t liked the boisterous dwarfs of Karak Norn, but with them supporting the Thunderers they would have enough time to shoot anything the chaos wastes would throw at them.

“Not exactly Sergeant, we will get supported by a manling unit, Cavalry to be precise.”

“Cavalry” came it snorting from Finvjer. “Horses are there to draw cannons and provisions.”

“Aye Sergeant, but I was told this manling Cavalry unit is some of the umgis knightly orders. Very distinguished, very proud and such.”

Couldn’t be so proud if they let them be carried around by horses if you ask me, thought Finvjer, but again an
“Aye Captain.” was the only correct answer.

“Good Sergeant, I knew you would see their usefulness. And there is also a small department of elven scouts.”

If it was somehow possible the straight starring of Finvjer intensified, like he was about to burn a hole through the backend of the tent just by his one good eye.

Lesti continued, “Very few, and very far scouting ahead. Just tell the Thunderers to avoid any further accidents like we had in Troll Country.”

“Then me think they shouldn´t suddenly spring out of the bushes infront of a dwarf gunline expecting enemies... and the lads had good reflexes that day." A very short but diabolical grin crossed Finvjers face, just for a moment.
Then he said: "I will instruct the troops, Captain.”

“Good, anything else of importance Sergeant?”

"Well Captain, about that new lad, Bjarni Cogwasher. I think it will be a good idea to keep my eye on that one. Without going into... erm... details, Sir, I would like your trust on this, I feel it in me water.
I would like to have him as an assistant to the armorer. I´ve read his papers last night, and I think that would be a good position for the lad. He has experience in maintenance... and also his wooden leg could hinder his marching speed."
“Well that leg actually made me thinking. Most Thunderers I knew lost one on duty and then get send back to the Karaks to start their craftsmen life with a nice pension. That lad got enlisted with only one leg. What’s his plan? Losing the other one and be carted home?” Lesti thought aloud.
“With all due respect Captain, I doubt recruit Bjarni has a plan.” The Sergeant answered.
“Maybe not,” Lesti replied, “but he can read, sort this mess and can’t retreat far with his leg. Perfect adjutant material.”
Finvjer was not sold on Bjarni Cogwasher.
“Captain, you know what has happened to the last adjutants. Most of them were smarter, faster and fitter. And even though…”
“No ‘even though’ Sergeant. My decision stands.” Lesti grabbed the collar opening of his hauberk and let his arms rest on his chest. Finvjer new that pose, it was Lesti’s “I’m the Captain, you are not” pose. The Captain continued.

“This regiment had glorious adjutants. Standing at my side, trumpeting the signals for advance, and carrying messages through enemy territory. The lads you could put on the recruitment sheets.”
“Bjarni Cogwasher Captain, glorious?” Finvjer said unconvinced.

Lesti made a grimace while answering,
“Of course not, but he will pose as my adjutant till we find a glorious dwarf again.”

Postby Skald » Sun Sep 04, 2016 10:57 am

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjWs8ixD6_A

Erhart stopped for a moment, removed the helm covering his face and looked at the battlefield.

Bodies were strewn all across Talabecland's soil, heavy smell of gunpowder and burned flesh lingering. Knights Panther, blue and gold armour gleaming in the hot autumn sun, were lined up in the valley below, most have lost their war mounts, all of them covered in blood and sweat. The knights gathered the wounded and mourned the fallen, quick prayers could be heard. The vanquished were stacked in pyres, thick billows of smoke seemed to cover the sky in an impenetrable blanket. The mark of ruinous powers was excised completely.

"Never suffer any person or thing bearing the mark of Chaos to live while there is breath in your body." - whispered Erhart and adjusted the panther cloak on his shoulders.

The shattered landscape was still once again. It was a golden autumn, the bloody harvest now over.

In the distance Erhart could hear loud songs, sounds of celebration and laughter. Under magnificent and glimmering blue banners the dwarfs made their camp. They appeared on the battlefield without a sound; the thunderous cacophony started soon after. Rows of Thunderers fired in a perfect unison, the cannons roared. The battle was over, the tide was turned at the last moment.

Erhart began descending into the valley, towards the unfurled banners.

The smell of roasted boar and finest ale filled the hastily constructed encampment. Near the fire Erhart spotted a gathering of dwarfs encircling an older, grizzled veteran. With greatsword rested on his shoulder, he approached them and began, with a solemn look on his face:

"Honoris Panthera! I am Erhart von Arenstorff, chapter master of Knights Panther and I would thank you for your assistance in the battle, dwarfs..."
Erhart Arenstorff - Chapter Master of Knights Panther

Postby Noergl » Sun Sep 04, 2016 6:40 pm

One of the older dwarfs looked up at the unexpected newcomer. His uniform was still full of mud and blood, some dark patches were silent witness to fire exposure and even his grey beard had some scorched places where incinerated gunpowder had jumped over. With a swipe of the back of his hand he wished the foam of ale from his lips and stood up. “Heja chapter master, honoris …erm… same to ya. I´m sergeant Finvjer Hugnirsson of the 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers. No need to thank us, after all we´re allies in this cursed war. We came at the right time it seems, good for yer lads. Can´t promise that the timing will always be so good though. But if ya really feel the need to do express your thanks, that big tent over there is the command tent of our captain Lesti Ardisson, I’m sure he welcomes your kind words. Ya know, we simpler dawis are mostly very modest and so for us a nice keg of ale speaks for itself like a whole saga, if ya catch my drift.” The old dawi blinked with his eye and then turned around to one of the recruits. “Recruit Cogwasher, run over to the command tent and announce the presence of Erhart of Arenstorff, chapter master of the knightly order of the knights panther, honored ally in our battles to the captain. And then you will lead this umgi here to the captain when he is ready. On the double lad!” Grabbing a new mug full of ale he turned to the knight again. “Perhaps ya would like a sip of strong dwarfen ale as long as that lad is on his way? Careful, it´s not that watered down stuff the umgis serve in the Altdorf taverns!” With a smile he passed the mug over.

Postby Thunderforge » Sun Sep 04, 2016 7:55 pm

Stumpi Cogwasher jumped up at the sound of his Sergeant's voice, he had been eagerly discussing a design for a new optic with one of his comrades and hadn't noticed the manling arrive. He tugged his uniform straight as he negotiated the assembled dwarves.
He saluted the Sergeant then the Knight, then bowed, whilst smoothing his beard down hastily.
"Stu- er - Recruit Cogwasher, 3rd Bitterstone Thunderers" he declared. "Please follow me sir!"

As the Knight followed the rather greasy recruit the dwarf began to talk about his work. "Y'see Sir, it's all really about correct use of lubricant, I mean aye there are plenty of manling firearms around, take the Hochland for example, but making it all 'click', that's the 'ard bit. Now, your average Imperial gun oil is only part mineral, up to a third rendered fats in some cases, now there's nothin' wrong wi' rendered fats, believe me, but it causes a carbon build-up and... Ah, we're here."
They arrived at the command tent, and Stumpi looked puzzled. "Now do I go in first or... ah,we'll do it together. Whatsyername?" He stared up at the Knight inquisitively.
"Chapter Master Arenstorff" he replied imperiously, with particular emphasis on the 'master'.
"Cheers" said Stumpi "I'll be back at the camp when yer done, I can finish our lesson on lubrication. Follow me..." and disappeared into the command tent.

Postby Glorian » Mon Sep 05, 2016 5:51 pm

Captain Lesti Ardisson looked through his field chest. He knew he had put that handbook somewhere on the bottom of his chest. There where the important, but not to read immediately stuff stored. Suddenly he heard a sound from the tents entrance. A crunching muffling sound like two mountain goats wanted to enter simultaneously the compound.

He turned around and saw more or less the same situation; a manling Knight in full plate armor, as well as Recruit Cogwasher were trying to squeeze at the same time though the tents entrance. The dead Panther on the shoulders of the Knight loomed over Stmpi’s head as the wildcat was about to bite Stumpi’s head off. The look on the face of the Knight implied he would do it rather himself.

“Recruit Cogwasher!” Lesti barked, “Report!”

Stumpi Cogwasher turned sideways and disengaged the Knight. “Recruit Cogwasher, Sir!”
As usual he was still confused with which hand he should salute or use toilet paper with. Today the toilet paper won.

“I’m reporting the manlings Master Captain, I mean Captain Ardissson … Captain!” Stumpi reported. To emphasis on what he meant he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at the Knight.

“Good, Recruit dismissed!” ordered Lesti.
With an enthusiastic “Aye Captain!” Stumpi turned around and held his finger like a pistol at Knight while blinking with one eye.
“We see us later, me manling Master!” With that he moved out of the tent.

Ehrhart von Ahrenstorff was more than confused. Half an hour ago at the Battle the dwarven Formation marched and fought like a clockwork steamtank with a hundred legs and the same number of handguns. But now in the camp most dwarfs he has met seemed like they were on a boyscout adventure. If he would have seen such a lack of discipline in his commoner’s ranks he would have put them on a good round of flogging.
Of course his fighting force were Knights. The noble sons of the Empire who were trained into archery, combat, riding and chivalry at an early age. Each of them was a shining example of Sigmars Virtues. These men weren’t punishment like mere peasants. They knew what was expected of them and they were fire and flame to live up to the high standards of Knights Panther.

Some of these dwarfs on the other hand looked like craftsmen with a Handgun. He has even seen a small group of half naked dwarfs with orange dyed hair who seemed to be engaged in some kind of belching contest.
But now he was in the tent of the commanding dwarven noble, and was finally able to speak to the dwarf in command.

Erhart held his helmet under his left arm and saluted with a speed that the air was almost cut by his hand. But any whooshing sound was drowned by the crack of the Knights heels that were slammed together.
“I am Erhart von Ahrenstorf, Chapter Master of Knights Panther.” He introduced himself.

“Honoris Panthera Chapter Master, I’m Captain Lesti Ardisson.” Lesti straightened himself and saluted back. That Thing with the heels was impressive he thought. But most of the recruits had enough problems with getting not killed, salute and shoot at the right persons.

Erhart raised an eyebrow. He hasn’t expected to be greeted by the official Battlecry of his Knightly Order. Maybe this was really a dwarf he could talk to. Up to this point he has meet dwarven craftsmen and now some dwarven soldiers. And most of them seemed to be more like norse raiders with a dayjob than men of the empire.

“Please have a seat Chapter Master.” Lesti pointed at a small stool in front of his desk.

Erhart looked at the small thing the Captain has named a stool. It looked like a trunk which could hold an anvil. The two small holes in it suggested that this was precisely its previous function.

“I’m comfortable standing, Sir. Your arrive was timely, and I’m here to thank you for your assistance in the battle. We would have destroyed this twisted scum on our own, but with your help we could reduce the casualties.” He replied.

The dwarven Captain walked around his desk and sat onto his chair.
“Aye! We showed these buggers, didn’t we!” Lesti began, “didn’t know what hit them. Directly from behind like I like it.” He grinned while punching his fist into the other hands palm.
But he was thinking about timely arrival. His orders were to meet the human cavalry two days ago at a village twenty miles up that river. But that was the problem with these manling Cavalry. They could hardly stay in the same place for long.

“And timely it was, we were told to meet your unit in Hergendorf I was told.” He decided to bring the point into the talk.

“Ja, that is true.” Erhart replied and nodded in the direction of the nearby village. “But I had reports of mutants hiding in that Village of Mackendorf.”

“I see, but you couldn’t have waited for us a little wee bit?” Lesti asked.

Erhart’s face darkened. The dwarven captain couldn’t have offended him more if he had asked him if he might paint a little eight spiked star at his face and call himself Erhart, chosen of the whore-god.

The first of the Knights Panther recited slowly and with a very strong emphasis on ‘Never’ the motto of their Order; “Never suffer any person or thing bearing the mark of Chaos to live while there is breath in your body.”

“Ah I see. No offence meant Chapter master. I see your lads are of the fast sort.” Lesti said with his hands up in front of him, smiling. Umgis were a strange lot. Some of them embraced chaos like it was your long lost lover; others hated it like it was the undoing of everything. For the dwarfs it was simply the enemy. Something which needed to be killed after breakfast and then you can carry on with the daily business, like fighting the thrice cursed greenskins.

“Yes, you could call it that way.” Erhart answered perplexed. That ‘your lads’ was a little too strange to describe the finest fighting Knights of the whole empire to him.

“At this moment they should be cleansing the Village of Mackendorf.” He added, and by cleansing he meant burning it to the ground, killing everything from men to beast that lived in it, and then burning that what was left again for good measure. Only that way you can be sure to free it from the taint of chaos.

“But now let’s look ahead Sir.” Erhart continued. “We are about to march out in the morning. We should plan our route and targets of opportunity on it.” He had reports of some more tainted Villages up on their marching route. And to his knowledge if you investigate any lonely village in the empire thorough enough you will find a sort of taint.

“Aye, but one thing Chapter Master, it is Captain not Sir.” Lesti interjected. “The Sir could be misinterpreted that I’m a Thane or of one of the noble clans.”

Erhart’s Eyebrow raised slowly…