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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
Prologue

Dawn broke over the small hamlet, mist clowding the empty, lifeless streets, and surrounding dense woodland. A peaceful scene, as morning birds chirped their songs. A warm glow excruded from the once bustling town, seemingly natural. It was not. The silence was broken by the thundering of hooves, but not those of the beings that had despoiled the town. Eight brightly clad knights entered, emerging through the forboding vapour, each mounted on a snorting chestnut steed. Although these riders had rode as quickly as possible, on hearing news of the event, they had arrived too late. Grim faced, the plated knights dismounted, surveying the corpse strewn terrain. One of the knights fell to his knees, sobbing, his home in flames. Although the valiant garisson had put up a brave fight, the sheer numbers of foul beasts had proven to be too much. The knights climbed onto their horses. There was nothing more to see. It had been a masacare. Haunted by the memories of old friends, they turned tail. They stopped. A wailing. With renewed vigour the knights galloped towards the source. Maybe there was still life in the hamlet. They came to a halt. Desperately, the clawed at the debris, blocking the entrance to the cellar of what had once been an inn, and what was now a flaming wreck. The last piece of scorched wood was pulled away. Why had he been spared? A gaunt child, no more than five summers of age was revealed, his deathly pale features smeared in ash and tears, and so, the legend of Franz von Strathoff was born.

As the knight pulled the child onto his mud- caked, barded, quivering warhorse, he knew something was amiss. All of the inhabitants lay slaughtered, the blood running in gleaming rivets in the mid- Autumn glow, and this boy appeared relatively unharmed from the attack. The knight was also unnerved by the unnatural look in his dark, emotionless eyes, and his lank oil- stained hair and ragged clothing seemed unaffected by the strong breeze. Still, the knight could not help feeling for the poor boy. He had lost friends, but the child had lost everything. The wizened knight pulled his fine fur cloak from his back, wrapping it around the unmoving child.

The group of once noble knights traipsed along the mountain path, resembling a group of broken refugees, heads held low, not wanting to think about the friends lost that day. In a way, the group resented the boy's survival, as if it was a cruel insult, and a bitter reminder of the good men how had fought and fallen. They kept moving, all too aware of the celebrating beastmen watching their every move.

Remarkably, the riders arrived unscathed, without even a single sighting of the beasts, an uncommon feat in the dark forests of Drakwald. The fortified town in which the knights had there barracks and homes were enraged by the news of their allies downfall, and the arrival of one, small, dark, weak boy went un- noticed, and he blended unseen into the crowd, ready to start a new life.



Chapter 1
5 Years Later
Franz's hands burnt as he thrust them deep into the thorned bush, ripping forth the rich, nuitricious roots. His unchanged features unaffected as he saw another poor peasant fall lifeless into the snow, pelted by the icy hail. He glanced back at the fort that had once been his home, its stone battlements seemingly inpeneterable even by the winter weather. He remembered his days as a beggar. Most citizens only made enough money to survive (with the exeption of the Duke, of course), and no-one would take a pitiful young boy in. He had had little option, beg, or die. He learned quickly, learning everything there was to know about everyone in the city, skirting the shadows and eavesdropping on conversations. Franz spoke little, but when he did he was usually selling information to those interested. This was not to last, though. Cast out by the deceased duke's son, along with all of the other peasants, mad-men and general scum of society. Out into the harsh winter snows. Out to die.

Franz trudged on. He needed to find food, and shelter, or he'd soon be joining the many peasants who had already fallen. Despite the odds stacked against him, he remained calm, unfased by the grim prospects. He guessed it was this lack of emotion that unnerved people. He noticed their nervous glances, whispered words, and how they avoided his gaze, not that he cared. In fact, he found it quite bemusing. They avoided him? A mere boy that spent most of his time in the shadows? He chuckled to himself. A dark icy chuckle, like the weather constantly assailling him. Never tiring, he walked on.

Darkness set in quickly, enclosing the lone, seemingly defenseless Franz like the jaws of the foul twisted beasts that lived in these forests. Under the dense woodland canopy, he decided to find a place to stop. He looked into his leather pouch that hung by his side, his one possession of any worth. One root and a handful of berries, as well as part of a stolen loaf of bread. This would have terrified another person, but not Franz, just regarded the bleak collection with his normal cold stare, neither content nor unhappy. He climbed, nimbly into the boughs of one of the ancient, gnarled trees that dwelled in the woodland. The thin, gaunt Franz, little more than a child settled down and slept.

Franz sat bolt upright, a trickle of ice cold sweat trickled down his back. Powdered snow drifted lighly into the glade, and Franz shivered, putting his head back onto his improvised pillow. The call of an eagle owl cut through the silent night. Screams joined the chorus. The youth sat up, eyes wide. All around the unholy sound rang out, magnified by the imposing forest. Franz got to his feet. His acute senses judged the direction of screams. There was no where to run. It was obvious what had happened, Franz thought. And now he would die for this mistake. He along with the other peasants had been sold off, hundreds of lives lost for a few coins filling up the coffers of the Duke. Franz did not despise the Duke, he could understand his logic. He gained an ally, money, and got rid of the scum that were destroying his city. Franz's heart raced. His mouth was dry, and for the first time, his thoughts clouded. This must be what the humans called fear. He heared movement, and nustled, as deeply as possible, into the bows of the tree.

Through the gap in the undergrowth he could make out the shape of a man. His ragged clothes and unkept hair immediately told Franz exactly who he was.He desperately tried to focus on the details arround him, in an attempt to calm his mind. One outburst would certainly prove fatal. The vagrant ran, struggling to breath, only addrenaline keeping him going. His ragged breaths reverberated around the silent glade, his filthy footsteps despoiling the fresh snow. Out of the mist Franz could make out the shape of a horseman, galloping, silently but purposely towards his target. Without thinking, Franz moved along the branch. This "terror" fascinated him. He wanted to be in full view of the action. He watched as the steaming horse and rider leapt over a fallen brach closing in on the victim. The peasant looked round- and screamed. This proved to be his last action. Crimson blood spurted onto the snow as a crude spear was brutally thrust through the peasant. Franz could not bring his eyes away.

The horseman tore his spear from the victim, his bloodlust sated. For now. His acute senses heard a rustling in the tree directly above him. He looked up, locking eyes with a pale, starving child. He laughed. There would be more blood tonight after all.

The Northman glowered at Franz, cowering above him, his white knuckles gripping the hilt of his blood-stained axe, his spear strung across his musced shoulders. His battle scarred features convulsed as he cackled at the pink bellied Southener. In one strong stride, he mounted the gnarled oak, laughing, mockingly. The pale boy backed away, as far as possible, crouching solemnly on the farthest bow of the tree. He seemed strangely calm for someone who's skull was about to join the millions adorning Khorne's throne. The boy closed his eyes. Any second he expected to feel cold steel connect with his tainted flesh. He knew what was coming. "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" bellowed the marauder, his mu scled bulk rippling with fury, blood running in rivets behind him from his previous kill. He lifted his battle- hewn axe, it would soon be over.

The marauder landed heavily, slamming hard into the base of the tree. Dirt crowded his vision as he rolled over. He got to his feet. His deep voice reverberated arround the glade, a deathly scream. He tasted blood. He would find the little runt, and he would kill him.
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
Thanks!
I'm all open to ideas right now!
He could certainly have a chaos taint!
If anyone has a suggestion for the next chapter, then I'll do it, it doesn't have a set storyline!
 

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Discussion Starter · #4 · (Edited)
Sorry double post :(
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
Anyone got any ideas as to what could happen next?
If you comment before 8.00 I could write it up tonight :D
 

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Discussion Starter · #6 · (Edited)
Tonight's piece:
Chapter 1 (continued)
As the knight pulled the child onto his mud- caked, barded, quivering warhorse, he knew something was amiss. All of the inhabitants lay slaughtered, the blood running in gleaming rivets in the mid- Autumn glow, and this boy appeared relatively unharmed from the attack. The knight was also unnerved by the unnatural look in his dark, emotionless eyes, and his lank oil- stained hair and ragged clothing seemed unaffected by the strong breeze. Still, the knight could not help feeling for the poor boy. He had lost friends, but the child had lost everything. The wizened knight pulled his fine fur cloak from his back, wrapping it around the unmoving child.

The group of once noble knights traipsed along the mountain path, resembling a group of broken refugees, heads held low, not wanting to think about the friends lost that day. In a way, the group resented the boy's survival, as if it was a cruel insult, and a bitter reminder of the good men how had fought and fallen. They kept moving, all too aware of the celebrating beastmen watching their every move.

Remarkably, the riders arrived unscathed, without even a single sighting of the beasts, an uncommon feat in the dark forests of Drakwald. The fortified town in which the knights had there barracks and homes were enraged by the news of their allies downfall, and the arrival of one, small, dark, weak boy went un- noticed, and he blended unseen into the crowd, ready to start a new life.
 

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Discussion Starter · #7 ·
Now a quick poll:
What would you like to see Von Strathoff become (after chapter 1)?
- Chaos worshipper
- Warrior priest
- Magician
- Necromancer
- Assassin
- Other

Please comment!
:D
 

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this kid is scary, like a wolf in sheeps cloth

im thinking a Slaanesh Daemon in disguise. While he grows up he will convert everyone around him/her to chaos worship.
 

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Warrior priest, for some reason the idea of a scary child who is almost chaos tainted becoming a WP sounds very cool.
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 ·
I've written the start of chapter 2, should have it up today or tomorrow :D
 

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Discussion Starter · #11 ·
Chapter 2
5 Years Later
Franz's hands burnt as he thrust them deep into the thorned bush, ripping forth the rich, nuitricious roots. His unchanged features unaffected as he saw another poor peasant fall lifeless into the snow, pelted by the icy hail. He glanced back at the fort that had once been his home, its stone battlements seemingly inpeneterable even by the winter weather. He remembered his days as a beggar. Most citizens only made enough money to survive (with the exeption of the Duke, of course), and no-one would take a pitiful young boy in. He had had little option, beg, or die. He learned quickly, learning everything there was to know about everyone in the city, skirting the shadows and eavesdropping on conversations. Franz spoke little, but when he did he was usually selling information to those interested. This was not to last, though. Cast out by the deceased duke's son, along with all of the other peasants, mad-men and general scum of society. Out into the harsh winter snows. Out to die.

Franz trudged on. He needed to find food, and shelter, or he'd soon be joining the many peasants who had already fallen. Despite the odds stacked against him, he remained calm, unfased by the grim prospects. He guessed it was this lack of emotion that unnerved people. He noticed their nervous glances, whispered words, and how they avoided his gaze, not that he cared. In fact, he found it quite bemusing. They avoided him? A mere boy that spent most of his time in the shadows? He chuckled to himself. A dark icy chuckle, like the weather constantly assailling him. Never tiring, he walked on.

Darkness set in quickly, enclosing the lone, seemingly defenseless Franz like the jaws of the foul twisted beasts that lived in these forests. Under the dense woodland canopy, he decided to find a place to stop. He looked into his leather pouch that hung by his side, his one possession of any worth. One root and a handful of berries, as well as part of a stolen loaf of bread. This would have terrified another person, but not Franz, just regarded the bleak collection with his normal cold stare, neither content nor unhappy. He climbed, nimbly into the boughs of one of the ancient, gnarled trees that dwelled in the woodland. The thin, gaunt Franz, little more than a child settled down and slept.
 

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Discussion Starter · #12 ·
Some action >:D

Franz sat bolt upright, a trickle of ice cold sweat trickled down his back. Powdered snow drifted lighly into the glade, and Franz shivered, putting his head back onto his improvised pillow. The call of an eagle owl cut through the silent night. Screams joined the chorus. The youth sat up, eyes wide. All around the unholy sound rang out, magnified by the imposing forest. Franz got to his feet. His acute senses judged the direction of screams. There was no where to run. It was obvious what had happened, Franz thought. And now he would die for this mistake. He along with the other peasants had been sold off, hundreds of lives lost for a few coins filling up the coffers of the Duke. Franz did not despise the Duke, he could understand his logic. He gained an ally, money, and got rid of the scum that were destroying his city. Franz's heart raced. His mouth was dry, and for the first time, his thoughts clouded. This must be what the humans called fear. He heared movement, and nustled, as deeply as possible, into the bows of the tree.

Through the gap in the undergrowth he could make out the shape of a man. His ragged clothes and unkept hair immediately told Franz exactly who he was.He desperately tried to focus on the details arround him, in an attempt to calm his mind. One outburst would certainly prove fatal. The vagrant ran, struggling to breath, only addrenaline keeping him going. His ragged breaths reverberated around the silent glade, his filthy footsteps despoiling the fresh snow. Out of the mist Franz could make out the shape of a horseman, galloping, silently but purposely towards his target. Without thinking, Franz moved along the branch. This "terror" fascinated him. He wanted to be in full view of the action. He watched as the steaming horse and rider leapt over a fallen brach closing in on the victim. The peasant looked round- and screamed. This proved to be his last action. Crimson blood spurted onto the snow as a crude spear was brutally thrust through the peasant. Franz could not bring his eyes away.

The horseman tore his spear from the victim, his bloodlust sated. For now. His acute senses heard a rustling in the tree directly above him. He looked up, locking eyes with a pale, starving child. He laughed. There would be more blood tonight after all.
 

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Discussion Starter · #13 ·
Really need your help for chapter three!
The horseman, and group of raiders that he's from will obviously play an important role in the story, so, who should they be?
-Chaos
-Beastmen (ie centigor)
-Dark elves
-Vampire counts (ie the vampire itself)
-Secret underground empire society
-Anything else!

Please help, I actually have no ideas at the moment!
Any ideas will help!
Thanks :]
 

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Its like a Choose your own adventure novel!

Im saying Beastman or Chaos
 

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Discussion Starter · #15 · (Edited)
Sorry only a small update tonight:
I took your advice TripleJ7007 :D
The Northman glowered at Franz, cowering above him, his white knuckles gripping the hilt of his blood-stained axe, his spear strung across his musced shoulders. His battle scarred features convulsed as he cackled at the pink bellied Southener. In one strong stride, he mounted the gnarled oak, laughing, mockingly. The pale boy backed away, as far as possible, crouching solemnly on the farthest bow of the tree. He seemed strangely calm for someone who's skull was about to join the millions adorning Khorne's throne. The boy closed his eyes. Any second he expected to feel cold steel connect with his tainted flesh. He knew what was coming. "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!" bellowed the marauder, his mu scled bulk rippling with fury, blood running in rivets behind him from his previous kill. He lifted his battle- hewn axe, it would soon be over.

The marauder landed heavily, slamming hard into the base of the tree. Dirt crowded his vision as he rolled over. He got to his feet. His deep voice reverberated arround the glade, a deathly scream. He tasted blood. He would find the little runt, and he would kill him.
 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
Wow I haven't updated for quite a while....
I'll update this weekend! :)
 
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