Kit's Page: Valdimir von Carstein's Campaign Journal

Campaign Journal of Valdimir von Carstein
Being a record of his travels in the Cursed City of Mordheim, while acting in the service of Count Vlad von Carstein ruler of the province of Sylvania.

Night 1

This night I set forth from the court of the Count, my great uncle, with directions to make my way to the ruined city of Mordheim and there to find and recover as much as I may of the strange stuff known as wyrdstone. What need the Count has of this stone, I know not; but he is my liege lord and my blood kin, and it behoves me to do as he bids without requiring to be told every secret of his designs. Accordingly I am going as directed, accompanied for the time being only by my faithful dire wolves Mage and Pagan. My great aunt the Countess Isabella would have had me take more of a retinue, to ensure that I return safely, but in the wilds between Sylvania and Mordheim it is best to travel swift and light and I cannot afford the delay that would be occasioned by a mob of Sylvania's undead soldiery. The only ones who could match the pace I prefer would be a unit of my great uncle's elite Black Knights; and much as I have had cause to be grateful in the past for the lances of wight warriors, in Mordheim they would quite simply draw too much attention. Of course like all my kin I live in hope of the day when a von Carstein vampire will be able to ride into any city of the Old World, with whatever retainers he pleases, and be greeted by the populace as their rightful overlord; but while we are challenged at every turn by mortal cattle, plaguing skaven ratmen and the vile followers of the Ruinous Powers, it behoves us still to show a certain caution. I have no doubt that should I require them I will be able to recruit mercenary troops of some sort in Mordheim, for by all accounts every desperado and fortuneseeker in the Old World is either within the city walls or heading toward them.

I must close here, it is starting to rain and the tree under which I have paused to write will not keep the water off my scrolls forever. Onward once more, then...

Night 6

Arrived in Mordheim at moonrise, having had a most uneventful journey. Discovered at once that the citizens, or perhaps I should rather describe thm as denizens, of this city are an inquisitive lot. Four of them attempted to pick my pockets over the course of the first hundred yards I walked beyond the gates. At least it seems that I will not be given the opportunity to go hungry, if so many of those who dwell here are so eager to have their throats opened. Only the foolish and the desperate think to get away with perpetrating petty thievery upon the person of a von Carstein.

I have already succeeded in finding a suitable dwelling, in the form of an empty crypt in one of the cemetaries formerly designated for the burial of the wealthy. To judge by the condition of the tombs I would speculate that the previous occupants of the place got up and walked out of their own accord - the city appears to be heavily contaminated with raw necromantic energies and it does not surprise me to find masterless zombies roaming the streets. I am tempted to recruit some to my cause, if I can find no better servitors.

Hmm - vacant crypts, unprotected mortals and my fellow undead on every street corner. I find myself warming to Mordheim already.

Night 8

I have acquired a companion. A little after sunset this night I was disturbed by the sounds of some creature prowling among the graves, and a swift investigation revealed the presence of a small, hunched, sorry-looking mortal armed with only a stick through which he had driven a large nail. On seeing me he at once fell upon his face and cowered before me in fright, addressing me as "lordly one" and begging me to spare his wretched life. As I was not excessively hungry and this bizarre scarecrow of a man amused me I consented to do so, whereupon he at once crawled to my feet and declared himself to be my most humble servant. When I could detach him from his deathgrip on my ankles I picked him up by his tattered collar and set him on his feet, directing him that if he was sincere in his offer of service he should follow me and do whatever I should command. He eagerly accepted this and trailed obediently at my heels as I set out to hunt, with Mage and Pagan covertly watching him in case he showed any sign of treachery.

I need not have been concerned. Wilhelm, for such was his name, proved to be as faithful as any dog. He also displayed a familiarity with the ruined city that impressed me, leading me unerringly to various sites of significance and on the way finding several small splinters of wyrdstone which he seemed to uncover by some strange instinct. He was momentarily disappointed when I claimed these shards from him, but I soon restored his good humour by rewarding him with a handful of coins. When I dismissed him at the end of the night, bidding him return at dusk, he at once scurried away in the direction of the nearest trading post. I shall be interested to see what oddities he may have acquired when he returns.