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Saturday, 26 August 2006
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Part Two: Desertion In The Ranks
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Brenguard tried to ignore the looks he and his men were getting from the locals as they came into town. Anybody who went into Sylvania was treated as some kind of heretic here. The thanks you got for defending their towns.

“You’re free to wander the town till daybreak tomorrow. Buy any personal supplies, send any letters, and stay out of trouble. If your unit needs any supplies or weapons, tell Marcus and he’ll take care of it,” ordered Brenguard as the army dispersed through the town’s square, each going their own way. Brenguard himself made for the pub, he had business to attend to.

The pub was a fairly clean establishment, with an inn above it. Brenguard stepped in and made his way toward the bar, picking up a bit of the conversation from the far end.


“I’m telling ya, that place is bad news. Nobody in their right mind goes in there. My father fought in Hel Fen, was never the same afterward. If those vampires decide to bring up an army, nobody’s gonna stop em with some motley crew of volunteers,”

Brenguard sat next to the man, facing away, and ordered a drink, smirking to himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be a hard as he thought.

“Nobody can defeat a vampire, they’re immortal I hear,” added the man, with a sense of finality as he picked up his mug again.

“Nah, they die easy enough,” commented Brenguard nonchalantly, not even turning to face the man.

“Anybody who says that’s obviously never seen one fight, my pa said they monsters were unkillable, it took Count Martin to kill one!” roared the man, slamming down his mug and turning to face Brenguard.

“Well, no offense to your father, but I killed one myself not three days ago,” answered Brengaurd smugly, eliciting gasps and a few skeptical laughs from the crowd in the bar.

“Who are you anyway, some sorta mercenary, tryin to drum up business with some ridiculous story like that?” The man demanded, putting a rough hand on Brenguard’s shoulder.

Brenguard turned around, calmly removing the man’s hand, “I, sir, am Viscount Brenguard, and I am offended. I am no mercenary. I’m a captain of the Emperor’s army.”
The man bit his lip, trying to cover up his embarrassment. “And if you doubt my claim, you can ask the priest of Morr here, I gave him the body and effects of the vampire to dispose of just this morning. It was just a thrall of course, but a bullet to the face stops just about anything,” Brenguard smirked as he looked around at the looks of awe on the faces all around. This was going better than he could have hoped

“My men and I just stopped to resupply before we move back to Sylvania. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find some lodging for the night.” Brenguard began to get up, but the roar of the crowd, demanding for more tales from Sylvania, brought him back to his seat. It’ll be a long evening he thought to himself with a smile.




Brenguard woke with the sun, and donned his armor as he prepared to set out. The innkeeper had hospitably offered him the room free of charge, one of the many perks of being a captain of the Empire in these backwater towns. Hero-worship was one thing Brenguard never got tired of, he lived for the stories and the questions.

He made his way out of the inn and headed for the town square, receiving kind looks from everyone he encountered, apparently his fame had already spread throughout the town. As he approached the square, he saw his men already assembled, and a crowd gathered, all dressed in the nicest clothes they could muster. Many of the maidens and children were presenting the soldiers with gifts, blocks of cheese, hats, new boots, and a multitude of trinkets. The crowd parted to make way for Brenguard, and somewhere a band struck up and old tune from the days of Count Martin.

A group of young men approached Brenguard, a few dressed in what he assumed to be their father’s old military uniforms. The tallest of the boys stepped forward, and offered a hand to Brenguard.

“Captain, sir, my name’s Peter, and my friends and I, well, we were wondering if you could use any more men,” the boy said sheepishly, obviously excited to in the presence of a real military man.

“You boys know what kind of hardships come from a military life? The constant marching, low rations, danger, and not to mention having to stand fast in the face of the enemy, a foe that feels nothing, that doesn’t sleep?” asked Brenguard solemnly.

“Yes sir, and we thought it over, and we decided that a life in the army was more than we could ever do here, the adventure, glory, and protecting our families, well, sir, we’d be honored to be part of you company,”

Brenguard patted the young man on the shoulder, “Then welcome to the Royal Sylvan Guard of Stirland. My second in command over there is Marcus, go talk to him and he’ll supply you with all the equipment you’ll need and tell you what units you’ll be assigned to.”

Brenguard noticed the crowd had swelled; it must be nearly every person in the entire town. He moved toward the center of the square, and swung himself up on top of a pedestal housing a bronze statue of some forgotten hero of Stirland.

“Good people of the Empire,” began Brenguard, summoning the people’s attentions and quieting the band, “I thank you on behalf of the Emperor’s soldiers for you hospitality. I ask that you remember us in your prayers to Sigmar, and we will remember you as we fight the Emperor’s enemies.” A cheer went up from the crowd, and Brenguard continued, “However, our forces have begun to wane somewhat after our recent battle with the forces of Sylvania, and we ask that if any of you desire service in the name of the Emperor, that you join us today as we march back out. I assure you that there is no finer outfit in all of Stirland than the Sylvan Guard, and you’ll earn honor and glory beyond your wildest dreams”

The band picked back up again, and Brenguard mixed with the people, glancing at Marcus and the long line of enlistee’s with a smile.


Last Updated ( Saturday, 26 August 2006 )
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