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Men of Helstroms 4th!

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General Helstrom strode out onto the dais within the hall of the Bogenhafen, his many surviving commanders arayed before him. Their men we camped both within the Bogenhafens walls as well as in the surrounding area, each force provided with enough food for a feast that night. The General cleared his throat, quietening the room.

"Men of the Empire, in the past days we have achieved a great victory over all the evil that plagues us in our very homes. We have defeated the mutant, the beast and the heretic. We have slaughtered countless Greenskin and made fast our alliances with our ancient friends. This night I congradgulate you of Helstroms 4th, you who have brought peace to our villages and our roadways, to our very people.

Captains and Generals, feast, for you have faced the enemy and triumphed!"

A raucous cheer went up among the gathered men, and so the feast began.


This is a place for those of you who enjoy your roleplaying and fluff to speak to other commanders, talk about talkes of your battles and speak about where your forces go now.

Here, here!


Ortolf sat and thought of the great successes of this last campaign.  The roar of the men around him snapped him back into reality.  He lifted his goblet high and toasted General Helstrom and took a long heavy swig.

He exhaled heavily, realizing his great burden was through.  All of the enemy armies were retreating and on the run.  Only old allies remained, and they too would soon leave.  Thoughts of home began to filter into the old soldier's mind.  Never before had he missed that forsaken tract of land so much.  He was getting too old for all of this, or so he thought.

He eyed the generals and captains about him and smiled.  Yes, he would head home to Wissenland and begin a new life.  One without fighting.  He would rebuild that old town and get that mill back in working order too.  All of this fighting he could leave to the younger soldiers, for they were capable of doing the job, they had just proved it.

Commander Martin Von Storegothe gazed around the hall, spotting here and there men who had been under his command in the Reiks Marches, though he had not been able to command them in the most direst of times. Martin shook his head, uncomfortable in the hall where these commanders had gathered. His greatest achievement in this campaign was the healthy return of most of his soldiers after the disaster of Albrecht's Tower, as well as on the Blood Bowl field.

Martin spotted a face he had met very briefly before he had been sent to the Reik's Marches, and so went over, "Ortolf, it's good to see you lived through the fighting."

"Martin," began Ortolf with his characteristic smile.  The veteran leaned heavily on his arms to lift himself up, feeling great discomfort from the various wounds about his body. 

"It is good to see you as well.  Your men have done a fine job.  Congratulations to you on your successful defense of the Marches," he stated as he bowed to show his admiration.

"Ortolf, don't be so modest. You yourself lead the Talabec Border in such an astounding defense. You are the true honored commander here."

Martin motioned for the older man to sit, then took a seat himself, "I must admit, I and my men were incapacitated for most of the fighting because of the magical storms which raged around my defensive station, Albrecht's Tower, early in the campaign. My men were forced to lay low in the forests far from any man who might have caught or malady, for we were stricken by magical plagues and stricken by strange curses. When I finally deemed my men fit for combat again, it was upon the last day of the fighting, and even then we were asked to defend this fortress we are in now."

Martin sighed miserably, "I've been recalled by my father back to our lands, and I am unsure of the reasons. It may be in disgust of my actions, or because trouble threatens him with part of his available fighting men away."


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