Ulthuan

IMPERIAL EMPIRE (579):

Luthor Huss - 180 points
Angus Fierbran - 114
10 Spearmen - 90 points
20 Handgunners - 195

Lords: 0% Heroes: 50.78% Core: 49.22% Special: 0% Rare: 0%

THE CURRENT ARMY


This story begins two years after the end of the Storm of Chaos, during a time of rebuilding in the Empire.
Luthor Huss, on order from the Emperor himself, has travelled the breadth and width of the Empire spreading the word of Sigmar. Recently, he awoke from a dream in which Sigmar showed him a dark tower in the midst of a barren desert. Saddling his horse, Luthor immediately headed south, to the Great Desert and the Land of the Dead.
Luthor found himself wandering for many days in search of the mysterious Black Tower of Arkhan. After the fifth day with no water or food, Luthor found himself kneeling with little strength to continue. Bowing his head he gave prayer to Sigmar that he might be granted enough strength to finish what he had started, the opportunity to serve Sigmar by destroying those that opposed him, both in life and those that refused to die. After two hours of prayer and meditation, Luthor began to see the world around him fade and images of death, destruction, and the sounds of war all around him. The undead shambled by him, the stench of decay fresh. These were not the ancient dead of the Great Desert, but the recent dead of the Empire. Luthor even recognized the rolling hills and sparse vegetation, and the waters of the river Stir rushing by. Hefting his mighty warhammer, Luthor began smashing the dead around him, uttering prayers to Sigmar until he finally collapsed from exhaustion.

Upon waking, Luthor found himself in the company of a small retinue of the Knights Panther, the Preceptor and a burly red robed man tending his wounds. It was soon explained that the Knights had been in pursuit of an army of undead raised by the random magic of the desert and led by an Ancient Tomb King, when they were hit by a sand storm. During the storm the Tomb Kings army struck in ambush and, for some time, it seemed that the Knights would be doomed. It was then that Luthor had arrived, his Great Warhammer glowing bright in the storm cutting a path through the undead to the Tomb King himself, destroying what should have never existed to begin with. Soon after, the remaining army returned to dust, and the Preceptor found Luthor on the ground with a great many wounds.

After explaining his vision and what led Luthor to the Knights, Preceptor Franz Feuerbach and the strange fire mage, Angus Fierbran, have agreed to accompany Luthor to Stirland to speak with the Elector Count and figure out what this vision truly means.
Soon after entering into the southern empire, Franz also dispatched a courier to Krugenheim, where his father still rules, to rally whatever troops he could. The first to respond were the Flintloquers, who mustered there regiment quickly and immediately dispatched to Wurtbad.




WORKS IN PROGRESS LINKS:

Works in Progress: Neutral Armies
Works in Progress: Armies of Order
Works in Progress: Armies of Chaos
Works in Progress

Links to MOUSEKILLER ARMIES:

THE ARMIES OF GOOD AND ORDER:
Empire

NEUTRAL ARMIES
Dwarven Throng

ARMIES OF CHAOS
Mortals of Chaos
Daemons of Choas
Beasts of Chaos

ARMIES OF DEATH:
Vampire Counts

ARMIES OF DESTRUCTION:
Orcs and Goblins
Ogre Kingdoms
Skaven

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LUTHOR HUSS - PROPHET OF SIGMAR

As a boy, Luthor Huss was orphaned at an early year after an attack by a raiding band of Chaos Marauders attacked his small village on the outskirts of Wissenburg. The villagers were used to such attacks, and though caught by surprise were able to quickly rally and drive the raiders back into the mountains. But, in the melee, both of Luthor’s parents were killed. With nowhere left to go, the child went to the temple of Sigmar, begging to learn of him and to learn how to fight against the scourge of Chaos. The priests readily took him in, and set about training him in the ways of the priesthood.

Upon his sixteenth year, Luthor knew that he wanted to serve Sigmar, to become one of his vessels in the world ready to defeat the enemies of the Church. Knowing in his heart that this was what he wanted, and sure it is what Sigmar wanted of him, Luthor declared his want to the priesthood. His masters attempted to sway him, telling him that the way of the Warrior Priest was folly, and that he should wait a little longer and become a priest of the church, ministering from the pulpit. Even at the young age Luthor had begun to feel disdain for these priests, recognizing that they seemed to preach piety and sacrifice to the people but practiced gluttony and waste in life. Luthor even realized that in the attack that had killed his parents, he had not seen a single priest of the temple in the fight. “No, masters. I will go and perform the test of faith required to enter Sigmars service as a Warrior Priest. I have no interest in sitting behind the safety of walls while Chaos exists in this world. I know that this is what Sigmar is calling me to do!”

Travelling to the Drakwald, Luthor knew that the taint of the forest would bleed its corruption into the villages that lay on its outskirts. In his travels he came upon the town of Weismund, where he quickly learned that a herd of Beastmen had been harassing the village. The next night they attacked again, but this time Luthor stood with the villagers. It was on this night that Luthor knew that he had made the right choice, for he was filled with the power of Sigmar. Every blow that he landed took the life of another beast, his warhammer bursting with blue energy as Sigmar himself blessed his instrument. For two days the battle lasted, until on the second day a relief force from Altdorf itself arrived, tipping the balance and causing the Beasts to break and flee. Giving chase, the Altdorf contingent finally resolved that to continue pursuit would be folly, as the trail began to lead them deep into the Drakwald. Leaving his allies behind, Luthor continued on the trail, knowing that this was what Sigmar wanted of him.

That evening as darkness descended Luthor found the Beasts camp. Thinking themselves safe, and still licking wounds from the battle, Luthor was able to easily slip past the half asleep sentries. In the center of the camp he found his target, the twisted Bray Shaman who seemed to lead this herd. The foul beast was chanting a magical incantation over the corpses of what seemed to be human and beasts alike, and Luthor took the opportunity to strike. Feeling the power of Sigmar fill him, so completely that he could hardly contain the feelings of strength that came over him, his hammer struck home into the skull of the Shaman with a loud crack. With a loud thump, the creature collapsed to the ground. Knowing he only had minutes Luthor quickly ducking into the shallow cave that the Shaman must have used as its home, with just enough space for him to enter. The layer made the perfect funnel, and over the next few hours Luthor fought, beast by beast, until none remained. Bloodied and exhausted, Luthor collapsed and slept.

So it was that after three days Luthor returned to Weismund, with the smashed head of the Shaman in hand. “Sigmar has blessed this village, and all who live in it.” Tales of this victory reached the Priests of Sigmar before Luthor was even home, and so when he entered the Church the Priests were ready and raised him to the position of Warrior Priest. But even with this, something seemed off to him, as if those that surrounded him held corruption in their hearts.

Though many argued against it, Luthor was chosen to represent Wissenburgs devout during the Sigmarite Council in Altdorf. His deeds were simply too great and well known for him to be looked over as the obvious choice, and a personal summons from the Grand Theogonist himself had helped to ensure the correct choice was made. Luthor knew that this was a great honor, and fasted for three days in preparation for the journey.

Upon entering the city of Altdorf, and of course being a simple man from a small village, Luthor was amazed at how large and populated it was. There was activity, everywhere. No matter where you turned, people were bustling about doing things. But, instead of the wide eyed wonderment that one might expect, what Luthor saw was the sickness that infested the city, he could sense the taint of Chaos all around him. Pleasure dens and taverns seemed to populate every street corner, and rats and bugs crept in the dark corners. Entering the great Cathedral, Luthor was once again beset with those feelings of corruption that he had felt from his own church, and knew that this was not the holy place that Sigmar had intended it to be. When the council finally convened, all they wished to discuss was which Churches were collecting the most tithes and which were not contributing as they should, and about raising the meager wages they received for their work. This, coming from men dressed in the finest robes, with gold and jewels bedecking their persons. This, coming from those who had sworn to fight Chaos, to defeat evil, to protect the innocent. It was all that he could do not grab them by those fine robes, and it was then that a priest representing the church in Weismund began to speak about the people of his town not donating enough. He referenced what the Church had done for the town, driving off the beasts, and pointed to Luthor who sat in stone silence. “This man did what the town could not, he beat back the beasts. And what did the town do to pay the Church for this act? Nothing is what they did!”.

Luthor had heard enough. “What they did was bury their dead! Where were you, Priest? Where were you when the taint of the Herd first came?” The anger dripped from his tongue. “Where were all of you? If you cannot feel the taint of Chaos in the empire, even here in this hall, than you are all fools! You debate about our people not giving enough, for what? So that you can live in these palaces, eat of the best food?” Silence surrounded the Cathedral, until an older Lector stood. “What do you know of the world at such an age? You will apologize for this interruption!” he demanded. Luthor could take it no more. “You sicken me, and you sadden Sigmar,” he replied. Without another word he left the Cathedral, left Altdorf, left the corruption behind.
For the next years Luthor found himself rooting out evil where he could, destroying the taint where he could. He finally returned to Altdorf, but not to apologize. He had finally found the proof he knew existed, that a small section of the priesthood was in league with the Cults of Pleasure in the city. When these priests began to disappear, the Church knew that Luthor was responsible. The same Arch Lector who had called him out for an apology years prior now demanded his excommunication. Days later the Arch Lector was found dead outside of a brothel. More demands for excommunication came, but those requests continued to go unanswered from the Grand Theogonist. Rumor had it that he did meet with Luthor one night, and it seemed that after that evening Luthor finally left Altdorf.

The words still rang in Luthors head as he travelled to the dead deserts of the south. “You know what you must do Luthor. I need not tell you anything, except that you are the best of us. Sigmar has blessed you, and he will use you as his instrument in the days to come. Go where he commands you, and do what he asks of you.”



Sculptor: Allen Perry
Manufactured: Games Workshop, 6th edition





Vote at CMON: http://www.coolminiornot.com/249016

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Loving these posts - thanks for putting the effort in. Your painting is loooovely.

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The 9th Age: Alumni

Former Roles: Advisory Board, HR, Moderator and Highborn Elves Army Support

ANGUS FIERBRAN, BATTLE WIZARD OF THE BRIGHT ORDER

At the age of twelve Angus Fierbran was exiled from his remote village for setting fire to three houses and the village inn. Though no one was seriously injured, and the village council had no actual evidence that Angus had committed the arson, it was unanimously decided (Angus's father was a sitting councilman) that wherever Angus went, fire followed. He was chased from the village with his once friends wielding pitch forks and throwing rocks, and with the ultimate threat from the council of a witch hunter enroute to properly prosecute him for his evil magic.

For twelve days he wandered in the woods, not really knowing where he was going or what he would do. He survived on meager subsidence, being an inept hunter his food rations consisted of worms, bugs, and whatever fruit he could find on trees. But each day he rose, and each day his feet continued to move him in a certain direction. Soon, Angus found himself on a road bigger than any he had ever seen, with a fairly steady flow of traffic in both directions. He travelled the road for the next two days, once even being offered a ride from a friendly farmer who he found was heading to Altdorf to sell his potatoes, a few casks of ale he had made, and a small variety of other vegetables at market. He was so excited at the business of this road, and saw people of every sort. Merchants with small contingents of guards, peddlers either pulling small wagons or with mule drawn ones, and a steady stream of people with seemingly no other place to be but walking. Every few hours a small contingent of the Reiksguard would even appear, with the driven presence that only seasoned troops could portray. The people in the road would move aside grudgingly for these Soldiers, but in the afternoon of the second day a line of shining Reiksguards knights streamed down the road, their armour glinting with the sun. The people in the road moved aside quickly for these stoic warriors with murmurs of “Sigmar praise the Emperor” and “Long live Karl Franz!” Even Agnus was drawn in on the heroic presence of these mounted legends, and realized too late the smell of smoke from below him. Looking at where his hands rested on the wooden side planks of the wagon, flames had erupted. Attempting to pat down the flames, the more he motioned, the larger the flames got. From over his shoulder a bucket of water doused the flames, and Angus looked up into the angry eyes of the farmer. Unceremoniously tossed from the side of the wagon, he made the rest of his way into Altdorf on foot.

Altdorf defied the imagination. Every street was packed full of bustling people, and buildings loomed over it all, towering at four or five stories high. Palace spires and long towers jutted throughout the city, and a huge harbor could be seen even from the road entering the town. A dark smoke could be seen in the distance over a small part of the city, and in another part of the city he could see a bright glow towering above all. It was this glow that seemed to attract Angus the most, and as if in a trance his feet angled him towards it. Not paying attention he walked head long into what felt like a stone wall. Looking up, he met the cold, hard eyes of a man clad in the red robes and silver armor that denoted him to be a priest of Sigmar. “You should pay better attention to where you walk, boy! This city is full of evil and corruption, the likes of which could swallow you before you know it”, the man said softly, yet even in the soft whisper of it Angus could hear the cold truth of his words. Reaching into his pouch, the priest pulled a small coin out and gave it to him. “Do not fall prey to the sins of this place!” And without another word the Warrior Priest continued on his way.

Continuing on, Angus found himself near to the center of the city, that bright globe in the sky singing to him the entire time. But even as he walked towards it, it seemed as if the globe stayed the same distance away. A man dressed from head to toe in a bright red robe had appeared beside Angus, and without a word took his hand. In the blink of an eye Angus went from being surrounded by the bustle of the city to a silent court yard, basked in the light of the giant light globe from above. “What,” he stuttered to get the words out, “What is this place”. The man looked at him and a raspy voice came from beneath the red hood “This, young man, is where your life will begin. This is the school of the Bright Order, of the Colleges of Magic. I could sense you as soon as you entered the city, could sense that spark inside of you. Welcome home.”

For the next ten years he did not leave the grounds of the school. He trained, and trained very hard. He had found his calling, learned how to control the power within him, to harness the energy and manipulate the lines of magic that he could now sense with ease. He had learned to control fire, to manipulate it to do his bidding as it was meant to. He could now create balls of fiery destruction, to summon steeds of smoldering flame that could carry him great strides in quicker than even a normal steed; he could even summon great walls of fire to surround himself in a protective shield. And it all worked perfectly, in the safety of the walls of the College.

It was on a bright day of the tenth year that the robed man who had first brought him to the college came to him. Over the decade of training this man, Thyrus Gormann, had become his closest mentor and friend. Angus trained with many Bright Mages during this time, as it was often that Thyrus would be gone for long periods, but would always return to see how his training progressed. On this day Thyrus looked him in the eyes, his thoughtful expression as deep as ever. “You are ready to leave this place Angus. The world will need all of the help it can muster in the years to come, and you must be ready when it calls.” Angus, with great surprise by the suddenness of this statement replied, “but Master, I have much left to learn!” Thyrus looked at his pupil with patience, “We all must do what is required of us. Your place now is to travel with the Kngihts Panther to the south. Mine is to enter the Hall of Duels, to decide the fate of the future of the Colleges. Go now.”

Weeks later, Angus found himself in the arid sands of the south, hunting the remnants of a long dead dynasty and in the company of a contingent of the Knights Panther, led by Preceptor Franz Feuerbach. The retinue chanced upon a sandy melee of ancient animated bones and one lone warrior in their midst. The Knights charged forward and Angus threw bolts of fire as targets presented themselves. He felt alive for the first time, and even created a wall of fire around the figure who had since collapsed in exhaustion in the center of the battle. When all was done, Angus knelt beside the figure, and a memory of a decade past sprang to his mind. He placed his hand in the small pouch on his belt to find a small silver penny, once given in kindness so many years ago.

Manufacturer: Games Workshop, 4th edition

Sculptors: Alan Perry, Michael Perry, Dave Andrews







And to vote at CMON: ANGUS FIERBRAN


@Ferny: Thanks so much!

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IVAR HALBARAD, WARRIOR PRIEST OF SIGMAR

Ivar Halbarad was born the fourth son of Lord Alistar Halbarad, who is appointed as the Lord Marshall of the Altdorf Guard, and a life friend and liegeman to Karl Franz himself. Ivar grew up in the Royal palace, and had the luxury of training both sword and hammer with some of the most renowned fighters of the Empire. He was just 18 years old when Karl Franz ascended to the throne in 2502, and accompanied the new Emperor to Nordland to repel a massive invasion by the barbarians of the north. Given charge of a small company of militiamen, Ivar soon proved his worth on the field of battle both by his individual courage and by his ability to maneuver his professionally untrained soldiers exactly where they were needed.

On the twelfth day of the battle, the small company, who had started calling themselves Sigmar’s Hammer, found themselves surrounded in a small copse of trees as they had attempted to maneuver to the flank of the barbarians. Outnumbered three to one, out maneuvered, and out positioned, the company was sure to be destroyed. Rallying his men, Ivar prepared them for one final charge against the enemy. With a quick prayer, he whispered “Sigmar, protect us.” With a swing of his hammer, he motioned the men forward.

It is uncertain exactly what happened, but if any man on the field that day was asked he would say that they were filled with the spirit of Sigmar himself, that every swing of their weapons was like the mighty arm of Sigmar reaching down from the heavens to smite the enemy from the field. And at the tip of the resolute Sigmar’s Hammer was Ivar Halbarad, his warhammer bringing death to any it touched.
After the Empire, under Karl Franz, routed the Northmen, Ivar and the Sigmar’s Hammer spent the next eight months scouring the countryside for the bands of chaos that persisted in Nordland. It was on a bright, sunny day that a rider entered the camp with a personal summons from the Emperor for young Halbarad, delivered from none other than Ludwig Schwarzhelm himself. “The Emperor has declared complete and absolute victory in the North, and wishes you to return to Altdorf immediately. The services of you, and of your men, are over. I have warrants of payment for all of your men, and personal thanks from his majesty.” Ludwig moved off a short distance, with a look that made it certain that he meant it when he said immediately, a look that said make your goodbyes.

Speaking to his second in command, Alfonse Darshire, he stated, “My friend, our days of fighting are over. The Empire has won. Through the help of Sigmar himself, we have persevered in battle after battle. Please, take the warrants of payment and go. Let Sigmar continue to protect you and our men as he has these last months.” Some would say they saw a glow around the two men, as if Sigmar himself were overseeing this farewell. Ivar spent some little time saying goodbye to the rest of his men before mounting and joining Ludwig for the long journey back to Altdorf.

Upon return, he was quickly summoned to the Emperor himself, with the Grand Theogonist, four of the Elector Counts, and his father also in attendance. “Your service will never be forgotten by me, or by the Empire. What is it that I can do to thank you for this?” Karl Franz asked, with respect and gratitude. Perhaps his answer would have been different less than a year past, but in a quiet voice Ivar replied “Sire, my service to the Empire is all the thanks I am required.” But, with a slight fever in his eye he added, “I wish to serve Sigmar. I wish to be his instrument, my lord.” With a loud bark, the Grand Theogonist clapped his hands sharply. “We don’t normally accept men of your age into the priesthood, my young lord, but you are exceptional, and thus an exception will be made!”

Nearly three years later, with the robes of the Warrior Priest wrapped around his shoulders he found himself again summoned to the presence of the Grand Theogonist, who had given him the opportunity to be closer to Sigmar. Though his years had been spent in study, and constant meditation, the Grand Theogonist had not forgotten him. “Ivar, you are needed in the East. I have rumors from Stirland of the dead stirring again. But, more importantly, I have rumors that say a Warrior Priest by the name of Luthor Huss has been sighted, and he is going to need all the help he can get.”

Manufacturer: Reaper Warlord, 14036 Halbarad, Crusaders Cleric
Sculptor: Werner Klocke









Vote at CMON: Halbarad, Warrior Priest

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There's an interesting brightness about this guy.

Reminds me of Jürgen Klopp for some reason!

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