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Fandom Warhammer Fantasy: The Doom Tide Comes

The dead do not squabble as this land’s rulers do. The dead do not fight one another. The dead have no desires, no petty jealousies or ambitions. A world of the dead is a world at peace
 
The dead do not squabble as this land’s rulers do. The dead do not fight one another. The dead have no desires, no petty jealousies or ambitions. A world of the dead is a world at peace

You were saying?
 
The vampires just don't know nagash is all and all are one in nagash life is but a temporary state
 
Yeah well I think it is clear which in human ally might help out the cattle ..... I mean humans
 
Servants of the soul theif are cringe
Soul thief?

Is that...

I would like to remind you, we are using the setting Warhammer Fantasy, not Age of Sigmar. Different, but same in others.
 
Soul thief?

Is that...

I would like to remind you, we are using the setting Warhammer Fantasy, not Age of Sigmar. Different, but same in others.
I know

I ctully enjoy aos more than fantasy to be honest less x nation but with magic and Tolkien going on
 
Character Sheet

Here's the character sheet. Go nuts.
 
Hmm i am thinking avampire just what breed of vampire and their former race is the question.
 
The vampires just don't know nagash is all and all are one in nagash life is but a temporary state

maxresdefault.jpg
Hmm i am thinking avampire just what breed of vampire and their former race is the question.
a9KOKXK_460s.jpg


Making CS.

[=\ Potential opening post /=]

The stranger bent forward, wracked with coughs. He held up his hand to ward off his companions who stepped forward. All of the strangers were wrapped extensively in furs, and the gate guard had yet to see a single face properly behind their scarves.

“Excuse me my good chap. Someone must be making some truly horrid jest at my expense. I didn’t think I still had the lungs for that.”

The traveller shifted in his heavyset robes, and planted his feet wide. He beheld the gate guard of Praag like he owned them.

“Right, where was I? Ah yes, my reason for travelling here. Well I headed for this fair city before anyone knew these ruffians would come from the North for a spot of vengeance. See, some of my family heirlooms are in the hands of the foul Norscan, perfidiously pilfered from my family tomb. Such a grave insult to my lineage must be punished of course. So I’m actually rather pleased they’ve saved me the trouble of finding them in that frigid wasteland they call home. Futhermore, there are alleged to be some very fierce creatures accompanying the ruffians, and any of them would make for a fine addition to my collection. I of course have travel papers.” he says, and pats his thick fur robe down.

“One moment. Anyway while I look for - what in Ptra’s name- While I look for that, I should also mention I come bearing gifts. A great many gifts. Ahrakh! Bring forth the arrows.” he commands. A chariot pulled forth by a pair of extremely jumpy horses rolls forward. It is stacked so thick with sacks the driver physically has to sit atop them rather than stand in the normal position. The guard sergeant cautiously pokes one open with his halberd. The entire situation raised the hairs on the back of his neck, even though the traveller or his companions had not yet done anything more alarming than stay very perfectly still. Understandable, given the amount of guards on the walls looking on with both interest and loaded weapons.

The sack is full of arrows. All of them appear to be.

“Got it!” the nobleman announces proudly. He catches the sergeant eye the stack appreciatively. “Ah yes. Amazing what you can do if you order a set of dedicated chaps to go fletching day in day out. Quite ordinary arrows I’m afraid, I didn’t have the time or resources on my ship to do anything fancy. We collected most of the materials on the go, as it were.”

The sergeant nods, then checks the strange paper full of symbols he can’t make heads or tails of. “Right then… appears in order?” he says, hiding he cannot, in fact, read. “Let’s see some faces then.”

“Ah yes, certainly, certainly.” the stranger says, and briefly pulls down his scarf to show a pale, stoic face.

"Now before you ask my good man, the rest of the robes stay on. I come from considerably warmer lands, and these old bones don't handle cold very well at all. Now, where could we deposit these arrows?” the stranger says as he pulls his scarf back up.

“Right this way.”
 
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you planning on being a tomb king?
Certainly not. Khammimrambo the Great Hunter simply prefers to remain under wraps most of the time, the northern chill is so dreadfull for the joints of a gentleman his age. That smell that follows him around is simply the aroma of his preferred choice of strong herbal tea. What even are these Tomb Kings you refer to?
 

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