Topic: Captain Klaus Schinkler - A Nordlanders Tale

[red bull]

Hi

I got a little bored now the T&G campaign is over and so is the legendary Kislevite Warrior. I bet none of you saw his death coming did you. 
Anyway, I asked people for inspiration (thanks to you guys that gave it to me) and have since started my new story.

You never know, I might change all the place namesand get it published one day as a fantasy novel, in which case you guys are reading a free copy

So here is the first chapter. C&C welcome, especially criticism.


Klaus stood at the helm of his ship. He felt the wood beneath his hands, still rough as it had not been smoothed by the hands of men. This new ship, his new ship, was about to set to sea for the first time.
He had been sailing ever since he was six, going out in the harbour in his little rowing boat and emptying his pots. At the age of ten he had gotten a small yawl, with which he and his best friend Hans had gone up and down the coast line, exploring every nook and cranny, until he knew it like the back of his hand. At sixteen he had joined the one of the gun boat crews and by nineteen was in charge of one of them.
Klaus was the only son of his father, Hermann and his Sylvania mother Freya. His father was a wealthy merchant, who had been elected the mayor of their small town, and in his lifetime had turned it into a great town. The walls were strong and had repelled many raiders from the North. They had a constant militia of a hundred men, and all the able male population were trained as reserves. There were now many gunboats sitting in the fortified harbour and was full of ships bound on their way to Erengrad.
Located just behind Manann’s Teeth, on the River Schaukel, the town of Spelktzer was sheltered from the Sea of Chaos. This meant that they were the perfect have for ships travelling long distances. They came from as far away as Araby, Grand Cathay and Lustria, to trade their valuables for those that only Kislev could offer; furs and pelts.
On the tip of Nordland, between the Sea of Claws and the Sea of Chaos, his father had realised the potential of their village and sought to make it an important and wealthy town. He had succeeded and now they were a successful port.
They had twelve gunboats, two brigs and this new vessel, of which Klaus had been given command. His was designed solely for speed, and so the beam was incredibly thin. In fact, though Klaus didn’t know it, it was the fastest ship of its time.
They carried long nine pounders, eighteen of them on either flank. The furthest forward and back cannons could be towed to alternative firing positions, and be used as bow or stern chasers.
His crew were all experienced sailors, though not one them was a day over thirty five. He had two lieutenants, Hans his best friend was the first lieutenant and Petr, a Kislevite, was the second. Klaus and Hans were both twenty three, though Petr was thirty one. Klaus was in charge of the deck and Petr the guns, as none was a better shot than Petr. He could hit a chicken at thirty paces with a pistol.
Klaus took in a deep breath as he prepared to give his first orders as captain. Some would argue that his vessel was so small he should only have the rank of commander, but Klaus didn’t care.
‘Slip lines! Tell the longboats to row! We’re warping out f harbour!’ It felt strange to be giving orders, but he knew that he would have to get used to it if he hoped o be a good captain.
He felt the planks below his feet move as they began to creep forwards. He turned the wheel slowly a larboard, he had to use small movements as there was little room in the harbour. They kept moving, out through the harbour walls and into calm sea, where only a few knots of wind were blowing.
‘Retrieve boats!’ The longboats came alongside and where winched up on deck. ‘Loose sails!’ The top men scurried up the rigging, heading aloft to the yardarms where they could loose the sails and get them moving. They moved quickly, but not quickly enough for Klaus. He would have to train them hard, make sure they were as quick as jack rabbits handling those sails. He didn’t know how good they were at gun training, but he would soon find out.


Anyone care to guess what will happen next?

[red bull]

Hi again.

Back by popular demand the next installment. It's quite short but I might update again today.



Klaus had had a good day. He had been able to get his men to trim the sails, then furl them, and then unfurl them a dozen times and had got them firing shots individually. Their gunnery was better than their sail trimming, but they still needed to practice. They had been out of harbour for five days, and had managed to escort a couple of dowels from Araby into the Sea of Claws. It had been a good first run, and Klaus was pleased with what they had accomplished.
He turned to Hans, ‘I think there is enough time for a last sail practice’.
‘Aye sir’ replied his best friend before turning to the bosun’s mate, ‘All hands to furl sails.’ The pipes made their shrill calls and Klaus watched as they hurried on deck, up the two masts and furled away the sails. Once that had been done he ordered they been unfurled and trimmed, Next to him Hans stood with his pocket watch, waiting until the last man had set his feet back on the deck before saying to Klaus, ‘Thirteen minutes and thirty six seconds.’
‘Very good, a whole quarter of a minute faster than the last one. Give them an extra ration of grog.’
Just then a small boy came up to him, who could not have been more than twelve and said ‘Sir.’
Klaus turned to him, and seeing him asked curtly, ‘What?’
The boy looks scared and seemed to have to pluck up the courage to say what he had meant to. ‘Sir, there appears to be smoke coming from the region of Manann’s Teeth Sir.’
Trying to keep the note of panic out of his voice he said ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ and then quietly only to Hans ‘But all the same go up and have a look in half an hour.’

Half an hour passed and they were entering the gulf, mountains to larboard and forest to starboard. Hans went aloft and came back down looking shaken. ‘It is Spelktzer that’s giving off the smoke. Something must have happened.’
‘Right.’ It took a few moments for Klaus to decide what to do. ‘Head South’ he told the helmsman. ‘We’ll anchor between Wreckers Point and Manann’s Teeth. Get all hands on deck.’
‘We’re going to go there by foot?’
Klaus managed a small smile ‘You read my mind.’

[red bull]

Right then, here it comes.


Two hours later they were waiting in the forest East of Spelktzer. The town had clearly been sacked, as the new walls were broken and in pieces with everything burnt. The only thing that looked like it had held against the raiders was the small keep. It still stood, and appeared to be still under the inhabitants’ control, as the yellow and blue flag was still flying at the top.
He called Petr and Hans to him. ‘We’re going to go in and try and make for the survivors in the keep. We won’t have much time, but if we move quickly we should make it. I’ll lead, and tell the men to keep close and not stray from the road that leads to the keep. Pass the word.’
It took a couple of minutes to get the message around them all but in that time Klaus had enough time to prepare himself. It was only three hundred yards to the walls, and only a further hundred to the keep.
‘Keep silent from now on,’ he said before starting forwards. He crept forwards, trying to keep in the shadows. It took a good five minutes for them to get to the walls. Ladders and ropes had been left on the walls and were extremely useful for Klaus and his men to get up.
Once on the walls he could hear the sounds of men singing. The voices were speaking in languages from the North, those of the Norsca. They were worshippers of Chaos, and judging from the voices there must be at least a thousand of them. This did not bode well.
He continued to edge forwards slowly. There was the gate house; the doors were shut, obviously. They were just fifty yards from it, half a minute.
That half a minute felt like an hour for Klaus, as they passed next to a group of three sleeping Norscans. At last he arrived at the gate house, and knocked as quietly as he could. He saw someone peer over the wall above him and a quiet shout of exaltation. Another minute passed and the right door began to swing inwards.
Klaus stepped to the side and began to usher his men through the small opening, only wide enough for one to travel through at a time.
It was when about half had gone through that it happened. A scream came up from the back. It seemed that one of his men had gone to the sleeping Norscans, slit the throats of two and woken up the third before he could silence him. The scream only lasted half a second, but the damage was done.
‘Run!’ he ordered his men as they began to jostle to be the next through. Already some Norscans had gotten to the back, and though they were poor soldiers they were brave. They threw themselves at the back of his men, howling war cries and trying to get in amongst their foes. Many died to pistols or cutlasses but some made it and immediately began hacking in every direction. They didn’t last long but they bought time for more of their men to arrive.
There were only a dozen men including Klaus standing outside the gate now. The narrow road limited the frontage in their favour but they were extremely outnumbered now. He heard the screams as two of his men went down, and the calls of encouragement to the six men still standing outside. To be wounded now would mean death as the Norscans would not spare them.
Klaus pulled a blunderbuss out of his waistband and aimed it at the horde attacking him. He pulled the trigger before disappearing inside. He must have taken down at least ten but already there were more, taking the places of the fallen.
He heard the groans of his men as they heaved on the door. The most eager Norscan got caught in the gate as it closed shut, and he was crushed inside it. He heard the gate hit the other half and immediately others rushed forward and dropped the locking bar in place.

[red bull]

Next update, C&C always welcome. It is quite a large update.


Looking around him Klaus saw only fifty men standing in the courtyard. ‘Where is my father?’ he asked them. None replied, instead one took his hand and headed towards the only building in the courtyard.
Inside were a handful of wounded. He followed the woman over to the corner where a woman lay on a bed. ‘Mother!’ he cried as he rushed towards her.
‘Klaus!’ she replied. ‘I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come. And can you please take your am off my leg, that’s the reason I’m in here. Now then, what have you got to tell me?’
‘We’re surrounded.’
‘I thought as much. Aw well, we’ve been in worse pickles than this.’
‘Mother,’ he asked, tears welling up in his eyes. ‘Where’s father?’
They were both quiet, then his mother broke the silence, ‘I’m sorry’ she said. ‘He wanted you to have this,’ and with these words she picked up something from the side of her bed and presented it to him. Wiping away the tears from his eyes he reached out and took his father’s sword from her hands.
Then Hans appeared at his side. Seeing the sword in Klaus’s hands he said ‘I’m so sorry.’ He waited for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Sir, you’re the most senior officer here. So I must tell you, the Norscans are preparing to storm the keep.’
‘Give me a moment.’
‘But Sir, there’s no time.’
Klaus brought down the sword into the floor where it crashed on the rocks. The entire room fell silent as he whispered in such a threatening voice: ‘Give me a moment.’
Hans left. He could hear the clamour of the battle starting outside. ‘You should go,’ said his mother, as she winced with a burst of pain. Klaus picked up his sword from the ground and proceeded outside.

The Norscans were only preparing for an attack, and were staying just outside of handgun range, but that didn’t stop some trying ranging shots. Petr’s one even hit a Norscan in the fore arm. The rest of the one hundred and fifty defenders were loading all the small arms they could muster. There was a single Hellblaster Volley Gun mounted above the gate house, but apart from that nothing. Its crew were placing buckets of water ready to cool it down after each shot to make sure the powder wouldn’t ignite from the heat of the barrels whilst it was being loaded.
Over in the town square the Norscans were being led in some form of strange dance by their priests. A large fire had been started and they had gathered in a circle around it. Using the fire as his only light source he could roughly estimate their numbers. It looked like about eight hundred all in all. He could hear their voices carrying out now across the gap between them. His Norscan was poor, but he did catch the odd word. He heard ‘hated’, ‘scum’ and ‘kill’, none of which made him feel in the least bit happy about what they were going to do. Outnumbered more than five to one, he didn’t think their chances were too great and was at a loss to know why they hadn’t stormed the keep.
Seeing the sergeant of the guard he posed the same question to him.
‘Well’ he replied loudly, so as he could be heard of the chanting. ‘I’m not too sure to be honest. They had ladders on the walls men at the gate but then all of a sudden they just drew back. We heard some shouting coming up from them big warehouses. We got a couple of Tilean ships full of wine down there, that’s the only answer I can think of.’
Klaus smiled. So the only reason they were still here is because of drink. It seemed almost comic that an army on the point of ultimate victory gave up because they found a few jugs of wine.
Then again, if they hadn’t and had taken the keep, Klaus and his men wouldn’t have come to them. Now though the prospect looked bleak for them all.
Then a sudden thought him. Taking the sergeant by the arm he quickly asked him, ‘Did anyone send for reinforcements?’
‘I don’t know. Hang on, yes. Yes your father sent of a letter by bird.’
It was a hundred miles to Hargendorf, the largest town around, and the only one that would be able to send reinforcements.
‘When did they start the attack?’ he asked. His heart was pounding; they may still stand a chance.
‘Yesterday evening.’ The small glimmer of hope that had been glowing in Klaus’s chest faded. The bird would not have reached Hargendorf until this morning, and even if they forced marched an army couldn’t reach here in half a day, more like a day and half. Klaus faced the truth, they were going to die, and all they could do was take as many of the enemy down with them. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but at least now he knew the truth.

[red bull]

Next update. Please reply.

He looked back out at the Norscans. They were beating the swords on their shields now, the sound of wood hitting metal much louder than their cries had been.
‘Their wiping themselves into a frenzy’ came the sergeants voice, so quiet that it gave Klaus the impression that he had not intended for anyone to hear him. It gave Klaus a sudden idea. He got up and hurried to the gatehouse, the highest part of the keep. Standing there next to the Volley Gun he turned to face the defenders.
Now that he was about to carry it out, it felt much harder than it had when he thought of it. Clearing his throat he began, ‘Warriors of Nordland, soldiers of the Empire, my friends. Our town is all but taken. We have but one choice to make, do we die defending it to the last, or do we surrender and hope for mercy?’
Around him he heard voices muttering. Then one man spoke out, ‘If we surrender, we do at least have a chance.’ Others nodded in agreement to these words.
Klaus took a second before he replied. ‘That is true, but your chances are slim. And even if they do grant you your life, you will be a slave for the rest of your life. Though I will not stop anyone who wants to leave. All who wish to go should go stand by the gate, and we shall open it for you.’ He kept his eyes on the man who had spoken up. No-one moved, not even that man who was in his forties, spindly and already with traces of gray in his beard. He held a handgun in his left hand, with his right clutched around a small lucky charm on his neck.
‘Then we shall fight; fight so that we may defend our homeland, and fight so that less will die in the futures to come.’ With these words a cheer came up from his men.
He turned to see the Norscans. They had stopped their chanting and were now turning to face the keep. Most of them wore very little clothes, despite the cold weather, most naked from the waist up. Their faces were screwed up in horrible expressions, designed to intimidate, and not doing a bad job.
He could see movement from the back as something was brought forwards. He saw it, and his heart plummeted to his naval. It was an armour plated caber. Huge with rope handles suspended on either side so it could be held.
‘Sergeant, bring fifty men up here on the wall with all the missiles. Handguns, bows, rock anything. Just make sure they don’t run out of things to use. Then take another fifty and go and stand in behind the gate. Construct a barricade, plant stakes, everything you can think of that will slow them down. Have the last fifty station themselves on the walls, make sure we know if they try and scale the walls.’
His orders were as much to encourage as they were to organise. The men would feel better if they were prepared and had a rearguard, though realistically if they tried to gain a foothold on the walls they were done for. Once they could get men up without coming under attack as they climbed it would be all over. They would work their way along until every last pocket of defenders had been killed. He could only hope they thought they could get through the gate with ease.
They had begun to move. Whilst outside of range they would only walk, but the moment they could be shot they would run, making it much harder to hit them.
All of a sudden Petr appeared at his side. He was holding a long wooden case, with a small shield carved into the lid, painted green and red, the colours of Hochland.
Amazed, Klaus asked him; ‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Yes, a Hochland Long rifle.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘It was kept in the armoury. My grandfather gave it to me, he was from Hochland’ he said simply. Petr opened the case and withdrew he exquisite rifle from its case. He placed the butt on the floor; bit, chewed and spat. He rammed it home before replacing the rod and placing it on his shoulder. Balancing it on the wall he aimed down the sight.
‘Shoot anyone carrying the ram,’ said Klaus as he turned to look at the oncoming horde. He had to wait two seconds until he heard the gun fire and felt the heat from the gunpowder warm his face, As the gun smoke cleared he was able to see if it had hit. A Norscan fell, blood coming from his chest, though almost instantly another had taken his place and was spitting and snarling.
Turning back to Petr Klaus was amazed to see him already replacing the rod and begging to sight down the barrel. Again he fired, again he felt the heat from the powder and again he watched as the smoke cleared to reveal another dead Norscan. They were only a few hundred paces away now.
‘Fire!’ screamed Klaus though he was drowned out by the sounds of handguns firing and bow strings twanging. He front two ranks of Norscans fell to the fearsome volley, yet still more of them came on.

[red bull]

C&C welcome, as usual.

Then the Volley Gun fired. The multiple shots contained within each of its three barrels soared forwards into the massed enemy. The screams of the wounded carried as the smoke cleared and allowed Klaus to view yet more destruction. The enemy most of lost at least sixty men, and yet more fell as the handguns fired again. The second volley was more spread out as the different men reloaded at different speeds.
There was just fifty yards between them and the attackers who were eyeing the Volley Gun as they ran to the gate directly bellow it.
A steady stream of Norscans were falling now, as the handguns were fired at different paces, creating a translucent blanket of smoke, obscuring vision.
He heard a cry from the Volley Gun captain standing ten yards away. He saw the captain place the slow fuse to the touchhole and prepared to hear the sound of it roaring it’s death bring volley of shot. It never came.
Klaus hurried over to it just in time to hear the gun captain say; ‘Dammit! It’s misfired!’
Klaus’s heart skipped a beat as he realised their main offensive weapon was now out of action. Then he felt the impact beneath him, shaking the gate tower and almost causing him to lose his balance. One of his comrades was not so lucky, and fell over the battlements screaming into the Norscan horde below.
He watched as men began picking up rocks out of baskets and hurling them at the attackers below. A young boy, no older than seven tried to pick up the largest rock. Seeing him struggle Klaus went over.
‘We’ll lift it together. On three,’ he said. ‘One...two...three!’ He heaved the rock up, the little boy on the other side straining with all the effort in his small body. They managed, slowly, to move sideways to the wall. The boy however was not strong enough to lift it over the wall. ‘Oi, you!’ Klaus shouted to a large man, built like a brick privy. ‘Give us a hand!’
Coming to help together they managed to heave it up to the same height as the wall. The little boy rushed underneath and pushed upwards with all his might. Using the boys strength Klaus and the other man moved it over the side of the wall and let go.
It fell, and landed directly on top of the make shift battering ram. The ram made of wood, stood no match for the rock, which connected with it and two men. Both the men died instantly, their skulls having been crushed, and the ram splintered.
A cheer went up from the men on the walls, and the men standing behind the gate joined in though they had no idea why they were celebrating.
Their joy was short live though as the Norscans began turning their ram around, so they could use the other end.
That was not what Klaus was interested in. He was running back to the opposite wall of the gatehouse, which was being stormed. Klaus watched in horror as he saw the last defender was killed and tossed from the wall. In his place stood a huge Norscan bearing a great axe, six foot long and designed to cut down trees, it was capable of hewing a man in half.
The man bearing it snarled and drew it up to his waist height. Still running Klaus drew his sword. The huge Norscan began swinging it sideways, uttering a deep war cry as he did so.
At the last second Klaus dived forwards underneath the axe. He hit the man in the legs, knocking him off balance. They both tumbled sideways, off the wall and into the courtyard. Klaus’s opponent was quick, and was on his feet holding his axe by his side, drawing a Francesca from his belt. Without thinking Klaus threw his shield in front of his kneeling body just in time. It connected and Klaus felt the vibrations shudder up his arm. The throwing axe had split the wood of the shield, the blade protruding through the shield.
Throwing the shield from his side he brought his sword up for his turn to strike. At waist height he thrust it forwards. The Norscan brought his great axe down on the sword, the metals clanging as they hit each other. Klaus attacked again, this time going for a sideways stroke at the armpit. Unable to bring the axe back up in time due to its weight the Norscan was forced to drop it and jump backwards out of the way of the blade.
In doing so he tripped and fell backwards, putting out his hands to break his fall but in doing so he made him unable to defend himself. Klaus brought his sword up for the third time, point down, directly at his enemies’ heart.
The Norscans eyes opened wide as he attempted to roll sideways, out of the swords path. It was partially successful as the sword went through the abdomen instead of the heart. The Norscans eyes widened in pain. Klaus began to smile at his victory, but his face quickly turned red. He couldn’t breathe. He looked down.
The Norscan was using the last of his strength in an attempt to strangle Klaus. His head was starting to spin, he couldn’t think. The hand holding the sword was starting to go numb. The sword. Using the last of his strength he twisted the sword in the gut of the Norscan. He felt warm blood gush out onto his hand.
His lungs were screaming for air. Then, he felt the vice like grip around his throat slacken and he was able to gasp in a little air. Using his left hand he pulled the hand from his neck and gulped down lungfulls of air. The great Norscan lay dead, his face pale and his eyes unblinking.
He got to his feet and began making for the gate house. A great roar went off and he looked up in time to see the Volley Gun back in action. This was clearly too much for the remaining Norscans who fled and began running out of range. A cheer went up, joined in by all, and some even went so far as to jeer at the fleeing enemy.
Klaus kept walking, his steps uneven as he had still not recovered from his strangulation. Walking slowly he climbed the stairs to the gate house. All ready standing there was Hans watching the Norscans and next to him, Petr. He was sighting down his barrel Klaus watched as he pulled the trigger, waved away the smoke and looked to see whether his shot had told. ‘Ha!’ he cried, ‘Got him.’

[red bull]

Can you guys please tell me if you like it. Thanks.

‘They’ll be back,’ said Petr, placing his tankard down on the table. They were sitting in the armoury, five minutes after the attack, having ordered the men to stay at their posts but at ease. It was well into the night now, and would only be another four hours until day break.
‘They lost a hundred and fifty men in that attack,’ he continued, ‘but we lost twenty, all men guarding the walls. They know now that that is where we are weakest.
‘We have to reinforce the gate and pull all the men that were guarding and put them on the walls.’
Suddenly Klaus spoke up. ‘What’s the point?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They know how to beat us, and when they attack again there’ll be no hope.’
Petr started to reply, but Hans interrupted him. ‘You said so yourself, we take as many of them as we can with us.’
Petr, looking a bit put out at having been cut off spoke. ‘Our only chance would be to make them come through the gate.’
‘But how could we make them do that?’ Hans replied. ‘We can’t , that’s the problem.’
A crash brought Hans out of his train of thought. He around to see Klaus’s tankard lying on the flaw, the beer inside spilling out onto the floor, looking horribly similar to blood. He began to speak, in a voice so quiet that it brought them all in closer. ‘We can. There is a way.’
When they came out of the armoury the gate was on fire. According to the sergeant a couple of Norscans had sneaked up with jugs of wine and arrows. They had thrown the jugs on the gate before others had shot it with flaming arrows. The gate had been covered in a leather skin to prevent this, but that had been destroyed by the ram.

Fifteen minutes later they were standing by the gate whilst men carrying gunpowder rushed around them. Both Petr and Hans had been for trying to fight the fire but Klaus had insisted they let it burn. The Volley Gun had been taken apart and reassembled by thirty men just behind a small leather curtain hidden from view but easy to use. They had been goaded on by the fire raging beneath their feet and so had done it in half the time Klaus had expected. The barricade had been taken down and instead placed at the sides of the gate just out of reach of the fire.
All where Klaus’s orders, though none other than him knew what he was thinking, and others had asked multiple times.
Finally when all was ready and the fire was dying down. It had been half an hour since it had started, the crisp dry wood had burned well.
‘Right then,’ said Klaus, with a glint in his eye. ‘I shall explain my plan. To make it seem like nothing has change I have ordered ten men to stay in the gatehouse and shoot at the Norscans as they approach. Our only chance was to make them come through the gate. Now that it has been destroyed they almost certainly will. We will have men standing on either side behind the barricades, armed with all missile weapons we have. The Hellblaster will cover the entrance and allow us to shoot at the oncoming horde.’
With faces that clearly showed realisation they were silent, taking in the plan and calculating the odds. It would help stop them, but would not result in an victory. It would only help them last a bit longer.
‘We will keep it up as long as we can, and when they have gotten over the barricades we will retreat to the gate house.’
He finished speaking, though they all knew that this would be their final stand. It would probably not even be remembered.
They had no time to think though, as they all heard the sounding of horns. With it came the shout of the Norscans who were already running towards the smouldering ruins of the gate.
‘Get the men assembled!’ Klaus shouted as he hurried over to the gun captain of the Volley Gun. They were standing behind the leather cloth. ‘Don’t’ fire until their just by the gate.’ The crew nodded. He started back towards the barricade to the left of the gate.
The Norscans were only a hundred yards away. Taking his place in the sixty of his men on the left side he drew his pistol in one hand and his blunderbuss in the other. His heart was pounding, as if it was trying to get all the beats it had meant to get in his life in these last minutes. Looking around him he could see the grim faces of determination. They knew as well as he did that this was it, their final stand.

[Nicholas Ironfist]

Hello Redbull, there is nothing wrong with your story cept for some minor gramatical mistakes. The only suggestion I have for you is perhaps make your men more enthusiastic of battle. Waitting to die and grim determination for me at least don't work as well as enthusiastic foe slaying

One last comment, don't expect to get replies in here. I don't know why but nobody seems to comment on stories too much. Perhaps they don't know what to say, perhaps too many are too lazy to read the whole thing perhaps none of us (i write too) write well enough to keep the masses entertained. Write for you but don't expect too much aclaim, here be dragons. 

[Captain Dob Van Dwi]

Iornfist speaks the turth. Just look up my Honour and Death story if you want proof.

[red bull]

Thank you very much. I'm not trying to make it depressing, it's just building up to the rest of the story.

If you keep reading all will be revealed. I know I'm not a very good writer, but hey this is fun.

[red bull]

Time for an update.

One more section after this before the main story starts.

[Captain Dob Van Dwi]

Can't wait for the next part. I have alos updated Honour and Death

[red bull]

Just realised I posted time for an update and then didn't post anything. Anyway...

The leather curtain hiding the Volley Gun was dropped to the ground, and two seconds later it fired. Klaus could almost see the shrapnel flying past his eyes and into the oncoming Norscans. At this range at least a dozen of them must have been hit. Screams could be heard, but they sounded feint over the cries of the horde rushing through the gate.
In sight they ran, forwards between the two barricades and raising his pistol in the air Klaus bellowed one word. ‘Fire!’
With an ear splitting roar a hundred guns fired. On either side men fell, but yet more came on, those at the back pushing those further forward up into the trap waiting for them. Screams could be heard from the wounded now amidst shouts of alarm, not the war cries that had been bellowed only seconds before.
Klaus brought his blunderbuss up to eyelevel, pointed it in the direction of the mass which was hard to see due to the gun smoke trapped between the walls where it was sheltered from the wind. Klaus was unable to see how many he had wounded, if any.
The next sound however deafened all for half a mile around, and could be heard for five in all directions. Unable to see due to the smoke Klaus realised it could only be one thing. The Volley Gun must have attempted to fire, but as was so often the case with these new inventions had gone catastrophically wrong. And the only explanation was that it had exploded. A freak gust took away some of the smoke and Klaus was able to see the fire raging where the Volley Gun had been. It had already spread to the building behind. The building his mother was in.
With a yell Klaus started for it. He had only been running for five seconds however when he was forced to watch in horror as the burning roof collapsed. Klaus stopped in his tracks.
They had killed his entire family. His town, everything his father had worked for was gone. Drawing his sword Klaus turned back to the fight, running back to where the barricades ended and some of the Norscan had already reached.
Placing his blunderbuss back in his belt he drew his word and raised it high, above his head and then crashing down into the shoulder of the first Norscan he came across. The man behind him raised his own weapon, a nasty looking flail that had pieces of flesh caught between the spikes. However Klaus was too quick. He threw all his weight behind his sword, forcing it through the man he had just killed and embedding the tip in the Norscan behind him.
Another started swinging a sword over to the right. Klaus ducked the blade easily and rammed his own sword home through the armpit of his opponent and into his heart. But Klaus was outmatched. Some had already spilled over and were heading for the men at the barricades. Klaus followed them and seeing one just about to kill a handgunner Klaus levelled his pistol and fired.
He did not have time to see whether it had killed him. All he knew was he was sprinting for the remains of the gatehouse, bellowing for all others to do the same. He continued on a few strides, before yet another Norscan blocked his path. Klaus didn’t even bother to raise his sword; he just spun his pistol round in his left hand and clobbered the handle of it on the head of the Norscan. It was not a wounding blow, but bought him enough time to get to the door. Throwing himself through the doorway he ran up the steps, the last to make it.
Spread out over the three floors of the gate house, the last fifty men stood. Behind Klaus the door slammed shut and those behind it instantly braced themselves against it. Klaus hurried up to the top floor, the only one where he could see what was happening outside.
Waiting for him was Hans with his left arm wrapped in his jacket, and Petr who seemed relatively unharmed.
‘What happened to your eye?’ they both asked, and it was only at this point that Klaus felt a burning pain over the top of his eye. ‘It looks like a splinter,’ Petr continued.
Wincing a little Klaus in turn asked them, ‘How many of them are there left?’
‘I think we took down another two hundred back then, but there’s still plenty left.’
Klaus made his way over to the wall. An arrow paced just a couple of inches over his head. He instinctively ducked, and proceeded much more cautiously. He peered out through the crenulations, and in the few seconds he dared look saw they were surrounded.
‘Beneath him he could hear the pounding of the Norscans trying to break through. A couple of his men had grabbed a basket of rocks and were tipping it onto the men below, but even as Klaus watched an arrow hit one of them in the eye.
Sitting down on the floor Klaus began to despair. Around him the others were still using all the missile weapons they had. Up here the wind blew with considerably more strength, meaning that their view was less obscured by gun smoke.
Hans put his good arm around Klaus. ‘We’re all still fighting. These men need a leader. You are their leader.’ He pulled Klaus up to his feet.  ‘Get busy,’ he said with a smile as he handed Klaus a handgun.
Taking the gun from his friend he went over to one of the crenulations. He stood ready, as he knew he would have very little time before arrows were hurtling at his face. The soldier next to him withdrew with a cut on his cheek where one had hit him.
Counting silently in his head he got ready. 1...2...3! He stuck his head out raised the handgun up to eye level, sighted along the barrel at a bow wielding Norscan below and pulled the trigger. He let the lead ball leave the gun before ducking back inside. He saw an arrow fly up almost vertically, as the man he had obviously hit arrow went array.

[red bull]

Another update. He he...

He took out a cartridge from the box that was strapped to the gun, tore off the top and began to chew it. He took out the rod, spat the powder and the bullet into the barrel, and rammed it home. He was ready again.
He went again, rested the gun on the crenulations, aimed down the barrel, picked his target and fired. He did not watch to see his his shot had hit, as he thought he saw a yellow and blue flag over by the south gate before his sight was obscured by gun smoke.
It couldn’t be; he must have imagined it. But then he heard a sound that made his heart miss a beat. The feint sound, hard to hear amidst the Norscans banging on the door below and all the cries of those standing outside the gatehouse. It sounded, like a horn.
It came again, and this time Klaus was not the only one that heard it. A couple of other soldiers armed with handguns were listening intently, as if he had heard it. A gust came in and cleared the top of the gatehouse of smoke. Klaus used the sudden increase in visibility to sneak another look over the wall.
Charging towards them, the sunlight gleaming off their armour, was what appeared to be a whole order of knights. Lances lowered they galloped down the street towards the Norscans. They barely had enough time to realise the new threat before half of them were skewered on lances. Looking at the shields Klaus could see they were yellow and blue quarters with a four point star in the centre. The knights of the Northern Star.
The Norscans who had survived the charge began to scatter back towards the harbour, where their ships must be. Many lances had splintered, and those without them had drawn their swords. At the front standing up in his stirrups their grandmaster brandished his sword forwards and trumpets relayed the signal. They began to charge again. The battering on the door below had stopped and all around him his men were cheering.
The grandmaster took off his helmet, saluted the men in the gate house before turning back to his target. Five seconds later their second charge had struck home. Swinging their swords amongst the fleeing Norscans who were now less than half their original number.
There must have been two hundred of knights against four hundred Norscans. Needless to say the Norscans didn’t stand a chance and the knights ran them down to the cheers of the remaining defenders.
Klaus raised his weapon above his head. They had won.

[red bull]

Time for a short update. I know it's been a while but here it is.

That afternoon Klaus sat in a tent with the grandmaster of the knights who had saved them. His name was Franz Walz, and his order was the Knights of the Northern Star.
‘You really saved our bacon back there. How did you get here so quick?’
‘Well someone brought the bird with your message to our chapterhouse. Once we’d read it we immediately made ready to leave, and not long after we left.’ Franz gestured to the camp surrounding them. ‘This is the entire order, one hundred men and horses, all trained to kill.’
Klaus thought about making a joke about horses that were trained to kill, but managed to restrain himself, it would have been extremely rude to mock his saviour. ‘I cannot thank you enough.’
‘Well, you are going to have to go see the elector count.’
‘What.’ Klaus stammered. ‘Why?’
‘When he found out we were going to your aid, he wanted the person in charge brought back here. And as your fathers dead, it has to be you.’
Klaus had to blink away the tears filling in his eyes at the mention of his father.
‘You still have a ship I believe. That will be by far the fastest way to get there.’ Klaus nodded as he stood up. Franz stood up to.
‘See you soon. I owe on,’ Klaus said before bowing out of the tent and heading back towards the survivors.

[red bull]

Time for a little update. I know it's been a while but there have been many distractions

It was afternoon the next day when Klaus strode down the hall in the Count’s palace. The high windows let little light fall down and illuminate his path between the stone pillars flanking him. At the end of the corridor was a door, with two men either side holding vicious looking halberds. When he reaches the door the crossed the halberds in front of his path. Klaus reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the scroll that Franz had given him. One of the guards took it, looked at the seal, before handing back to Klaus. He nodded to his companion, and in unison they uncrossed their weapons and opened the doors.
He heard one of them whisper ‘Announce yourself.’
‘Following this advice opened his mouth and in a loud clear voice said ‘Capt. Klaus Schinkler here to see the Elector Count.’ The room was dark, with only a single window set behind a long desk. The light partially blinded Klaus and all he could make see of the man behind was that he had long black hair that appeared to be greasy.
He could hear the scratch of a quill, and this sound continued for a few seconds until the man put down the quill and straightened up to see this new arrival.
‘My name is Hurst.’
‘I’m here to see the Elector Count,’ Klaus blurted out before he could stop himself.
Hurst smiled as he raised a goblet to his mouth. As he lowered it he spoke, ‘You are here to do what he wants, and I am the one you will be seeing today. Now that we’ve got the formalities over, let us begin.’ Hurst took a sip of wine from a silver goblet standing on his desk and then picking a flour roll out of a basket. ‘The main cause of the problem is somewhat discreet, and must be handled with extreme care. I have it on good authority that you are suitable for this task.’
‘Who’s authority?’ Klaus interrupted.
Calmly taking a bite from the flour roll he continued; ‘That is not relevant to the task. What is however is its unique nature. I am sure you know about the colony of Giltdorf.’ Klaus nodded. ‘Good, tell me what you know about it.’
‘It was started about twelve years ago on the island of Albion, it has been steadily growing and recently they found a deposit of precious metals, though what type I don’t know.’
‘There are very few who do, and I’m afraid you will probably never know. Now...’ He stood up and strode past the desk over to a large map of the Known Worlds. Pointing at the location of Giltdorf he said ‘We had a report that ships had been heading in their direction from the West.’
‘Naggaroth,’ Klaus whispered, barely audible to either himself or Hurst.
‘That was the last report we received. We expected to receive two more since then, but nothing has come.’
Hurst paused and Klaus decided to seize on the moment. ‘So, what is it you want from me?’

[HavoK]

I read some of the text here and I like it. You have talent and are creative.
Just like youself, I cannot do this hobby whithout writing fluff. It's almost as painting.

I don't have any real critisism to the writing but just a little tip.
When you write about your characters, you could try to use descriptive terms when refering to them
instead of their name or he/she/it.

For example:
 (1, without tip)Hermann peered through the vegetation, observing the patroling beasts, firmly gripping the hilt of his mace.
                       
 2, with the tip)The old man peered through the vegetation, observing the patroliing beasts, firmly gripping the hilt of his mace

[red bull]

Thank you very much.

I have sort of put this on hold while A5 is running, as that requires more of my fluff time, but after it finishes I will get back to this.

I shall try to follow your advice. I'd never really thought of that

[HavoK]

Np,
I think its a good way of describing characters without having to grind a full page description of its aperence.
For example in the Hermann case i posted, we instantly get a picture of an old man, and that spares us a lot of
babbling about his wrinkly face, sinewy hands, and bald head. We get the picture in less words. Of course you can
spice up the characterdesctription, if there is something particulary remarkable about the character.

 like for example, The old man peered through the vegetation, observing the patroling beatsts, his shadowy gaze catching every little detail of the chaosspawned brutes. He grips his mace firmly.

Now we have suddenly added some new dimensions to Hermann without actually halting to describing him.