Character MaterialsforThe Seasons of Chaos Adventure
The Old World...
(Skip this section if you don’t like reading)
Welcome to the Old World!
The Warhammer world is analogous to our world during the late Middle Ages (see the last page of this .pdf for a map). Much of the world is completely unknown and undiscovered… or at least considered to be undiscovered to the humans who inhabit the Old World. The ‘Old World’ is a term that you’ll see throughout this game, and represents a bastardized version of late medieval Europe. The Empire (which is where you currently are) is more or less Germany. As such, most names and places will take on a distinctly German theme. I encourage you to take notes while we play in order to keep everything straight, as some of the names can be confusing at first.
The Empire
The Empire consists of a number of small, independent states sharing a similar cultural heritage (like Sigmar) and a common language (everyone speaks Old Worlder). The Emperor Karl Franz rules from Altdorf (the capital of the Old World), and is rumored to ride atop a snow-white gryphon… although no one you’ve ever heard of or have talked to has ever seen a gryphon… you know, except for maybe Fritz the Bard, who spends his days busking for change, spinning his wild yarns in the local Hog’s Head Inn. In fact all of his stories of Orcs, Goblins, Dragons, and far off lands where giants battle along side armies of men are probably made up too… Warhammer isn’t as high fantasy as D&D… think of it more like Game of Thrones, where magic is very uncommon (which makes it sort of special).
Religion
Not to say that your characters aren’t a superstitious lot - in fact your characters probably pray to at least one or two gods in the pantheon of “approved” deities. Religion is an important part of the Old World. Most all of the races in the Old World have their own pantheon of gods and goddesses, but they can share similar traits… like there’s always a god of War, god of the Forest, etc.
Your character’s religion will be left up to you, and you can decide how devout you are. Maybe you think all that stuff is just a way for large churches to extract gold from the people without being taxed… or maybe you’re really devout and know that if you just prayed a little harder that your luck would improve. Regardless of how you want your character to believe, one thing you would never do is walk around rebuking the pantheon, or proclaiming an atheistic belief - there is no freedom of speech or religion here, and you’d likely end up being burned at the stake as a heretic by a Witch Hunter.
Whatever the case is, everyone has some sort of religion and more or less keeps a trinket on their person, just in case. (I mean, it can’t hurt, right?)
The History of the World
Once Upon A Time, A Long Time Ago…
...zzzzzzz… zzzzzzz… zzzzzzz… zzzzzz...
(20 pages later)
...and that’s why we have a caste society, ruled by Elector Counts and the Emperor has established Sigmar as the Patron Deity of the Empire.
Honestly, if you fell asleep during that last part, it doesn’t doesn’t really matter… and it doesn’t matter to most denizens of the Empire either. You eek out a living doing whatever skill you can peddle, and deal with whatever is in front of you one day at a time. The inner workings of the Empire are better left up to Nobles and Academics in their tall stone towers, don’t you think? … What worry is it of yours how Sigmar united the tribes of the Empire and drove back the Chaos hordes in the Great Incursion, when you have to figure out where your next meal is coming from? Does it matter that the Remen Empire existed thousands of years ago, but crumbled due to the war against Sigmar’s united Tribes? What do you care about the current price of wool in the Sudenland? You’re in Grissenwald, and that’s about as big a world as most folks care to trouble themselves with… Remember, this is a time when most people never traveled more than 10-20 miles from home in their lifetimes.
So, where am I?
You're characters are currently in the town of Grissenwald, at the Boar’s Head Inn.
Ah, Grissenwald. Mind the chamber pots being dumped from the second story windows as you make your way around town… and try not to let the stench of the wharf get to you.
Grissenwald is perched on the east banks of the great River Reik, between Nuln to the south, and Kemperbad to the north. As towns go it’s a poorer one, but big enough merit a label on the map. Being on a river means that shipping is a big part of the economy, and most everything you eat/drink/touch made its way into town via the docks.
It’s winter here now… the snow has started moving down from the mountains, and grey clouds hang angrily above your heads, threatening to cover everything in a deadly white blanket of snow. At least for now the weather is content to dust the city in morning frost and icicles, but you know that won’t last for long.
You’ve been plying your trades and professions here for a while, seeking work and gold however you can… at least until recently...
The State of Things…
PLAGUE IN Grissenwald!!!
“Bring out your dead! Bring out your dying! Two shillings a leg! No charge for children… Bring out your dead...”
These are the cries of the collectors, as they’ve been making their rounds over the past few couple weekss, hauling the dead and dying out of homes of the unfortunate… of course some of the collectors engage in some looting as well - the dead won't miss it, right?
Common knowledge suggests that the docks are the easiest way to dispose of the bodies and the dock masters were quick to capitalize on this, charging a shilling a body… at least until the burgermeister stepped in after pressure from the Church of Morr (god of the underworld). A local edict now dictates that all bodies must be properly laid to rest by the church… for a small, mandatory tithe of course.
The sickness is called Grauer Augen (Gray Eyes, or Grauaize), and is running rampant through the city. In order to quell the panic, it’s officially NOT a plague. It’s not a plague. At all. Just a sickness… but not a plague.
Even so, town criers have been directed by city officials to use the term “illness”, and everyone seems to be actively avoiding the term “Plague”.
Some estimates put the infected rate as high as 30%. From what you've heard it causes death in most of those who get it; the fortunate survivors are promised blindness, hence the name Grey Eyes. Symptoms begin with sudden onset blindness, and progress to pustules and sores forming on the skin, followed by a fever and then death... As you can guess, many residents have begun to migrate out of the city, in order to avoid contracting the plag-er- I mean, sickness. Fortunately your characters have avoided infection… so far.
Character Backgrounds
Please read this page and then only your section below. I don’t personally mind if you take a glance at the other character write-ups, but YOUR CHARACTER doesn’t necessarily know this information, and may not react to anything here. That’s kind of an important thing to know… if your character doesn’t know it, you can’t act on it.
As far as what your characters do know about your fellow player’s characters, you’ll know what the other players will introduce at the table (I’ll go around the table and have each of you introduce your character, what you look like, and what everyone else would know after talking to you for 10 minutes). You all know eachother one way or another.
You are all currently sitting in the Hog’s Head Inn, near the Suidocks (South Docks) in Grissenwald… you’ve all recently decided to leave Grissenwald due to the Grauer Augen (or maybe for other reasons), and have been discussing with eachother how best to do that.
You are all sitting at a common table (community seating)... and oddly, you’ve been pushed into the corner together. There are two Elves (a male and a she-elf), a female Dwarf (humans wouldn’t really distinguish the two genders), and a Halfling… the rest of the patrons are all human males in the Inn. Strange… It’s almost as if nobody wants to sit with you kind (oh yea, there’s a fair amount of true RACE-ism in the Old World)… except for one human, dressed in cleric robes. It’s unclear if he sat with you willingly or if nobody wanted to drink next to a man of the cloth (perhaps out of guilt).
Anyway, as you are sitting there having a hot spiced mulled wine to shake off the cold, you all simultaneously overhear some River Wardens talking as they walk through the doors.
“Let’s be quick - I don’t want to risk getting the Greyaizes! Did you hear? Nuln is closing its gates to anyone coming down from Grissenwald.”
“Aye, it's a plague alright - best keep your distance from these filthy lot.”
As you would already know,Nuln is the closest city to the south (see the map at the end of this .pdf), and you know that if you head south that Nuln will probably turn you away. You also know that literally HUNDREDS of people have already started making that journey. Must suck to be them, right?
Anyway, this is where we’ll begin play. It’s late in the afternoon… and if you leave, you’ll want to leave in the morning (only a fool would travel at night). You’ve all secured sleeping space in the common area of the Boar’s Head (and you have all been assigned spaces in the same corner room, coincidently). You still have time to run errands before sundown if you wish.
Below are your character descriptions. Feel free to tweak any details you like.
The Dwarven Mercenary - Ashley
She hails from KARAZ-A-KARAK, a dwarf hold in the World’s Edge Mountains to the east.
Dwarves live apart - that is to say they tend to shun other races, instead retreating into their mountain holds, hoarding gold and jewels. Female Dwarves are incredibly rare, only about one in 100 dwarves are born female, and as such their race is disappearing from the Old World… which is probably why it was such a huge deal that She decided to leave the hold and venture out into the world. Her father, a somewhat famous Troll Slayer, blamed himself for raising such an outspoken and stubborn daughter… but She was not content to sit in a stone hole, surrounded by literally hundreds of suitors, waiting for them to take what little freedom she had and turn her into a breeder. No, not her. Determined to make a name for herself, she left the hold.
As there is very little physical difference between males and females (some females even have beards, although not nearly as full grown as their male counterparts, although you do not, but probably wear a full-faced helmet), she was able to hop the gender barrier and blend into the rank and file of many Mercenary troops, looking for someone good with a hand weapon. After some time she found herself in Grissenwald, hired by the local burgermeister to deal with the plague…
It’s not that the pay was bad, or that all of her comrades were getting sick one by one… it was the nature of the work - killing the dying. Hardly honorable work for a Dwarf.
Turns out that letting someone walk around with the Grey Eyes tends to spread the disease… so you were ordered to go into homes and kill anyone showing signs of the Grauer Augen. Of course, these were usually the poorer homes, and at no time did you EVER visit a Noble’s home - weird how that worked out.
Anyway, it just rubbed your honour the wrong way, and you’ve decided you need to leave.
The Halfling Jailer - Kaena
He found that he had certain… flexibilities, when it came to morality. He quickly found work in the town’s “judicial” system as a keeper of the keys to the dungeons. It was an easy (some would say lucrative) job, once he figured out that it was easier to get someone with muscles to do his work for him. Lucky for him, his fellow jailer Byron had muscle to spare… even more fortunately Byron was light on the brains. They made a good team.
Once the plag- sickness hit though, it was a different story. The dungeon had become cold storage for the overflow of bodies, and he quickly found himself surrounded by the sick and dying… no place for a respectable Halfling to meet his end…
“Oh Byron… guess what today it???”
“Me birfday?”
“Hmm… maybe… I can’t really remember. But hey, better still - it’s promotion day! You’re promoted to head jailer. Isn’t that great? Now look, I know you have trouble forming sentences, or thinking for yourself… but here’s the keys! Try not to let anyone out unless they have served their sentences in full, or pay, or… well, you’ll figure it out. Welp, see you later!”
The She-Elf Boat Pilot - Stephanie
As a Sea-Elf, the She-Elf was no stranger to the mysteries of the seas and rivers. Hailing from the coastal waters near Marienberg on the Sea of Claws, she grew up learning her way around sailing ships, tides, and winds of the Old World. A life on the water lent itself to a life of exploration, but that wasn’t what brought her this far south… that was something else.
She made her way up the River Reik about six years ago, traveling south until she found work. Initially she had no love for Grissenwald... but it was one of the few ports where she was able to find work on the river as an Elf (let alone a She-Elf). Seamen and women don’t mix, as it were. Although most humans can’t readily distinguish between a male and female elf (both appear very effeminate), they tended to avoid dealings with Elves all together, due to their “deceitful” nature. She would have taken offense, had they not been humans… Elves tend to consider humans a lesser species, almost on the same level as the filthy Dwarves.
As a side note, halflings are respected more than any of the other races, as they are thought of as children in the eyes of elves. Not as mentally a child, but the race is very young and innocent compared to the greedy men and stubborn dwarves.
There is one Dwarf that the she-elf didn’t mind so much - a female Mercenary. Maybe it was the fact that she was a fellow female, or the fact that they were both very rare and unique in the Old World… the she-elf was never one to live conventionally, and rejected the notion that she should hate a female dwarf based on the merits (or lack thereof) of the males variety.
The Four Seasons Shipping company was the only company where the she-elf could find work, and given her uncanny nature to navigate an ever-changing river, she was hired as an independant contractor of sorts, guiding ships in and out of port.
As winter crept in, the shipping died down to a trickle. What’s worse, the sickness that is plaguing Grissenwald has been causing some concern with the shipping companies - lately most ships won’t even stop in Grissenwald. This is no place to make a living for a respectable she-elf, and the time has come to leave…
The Elven Minstrel - Teigh
The Elf looked at his reflection in the silver-backed mirror, which hung in the ornate entrance hall of the Munchen Family’s estate.
“What am I doing here?” he thought to himself. “You’re better than this… or at least you used to be.”
Writing and performing for a Noble house would normally be the height of any entertainer’s career - one could only wish to be so lucky… but not all Nobles are equal, as you might have guessed. Grissenwald’s elite were… well, let’s just say that they were less elite than the Elf would have liked. Not to mention that his talents seemed to be wasted as of late.
“So let me get this straight” he said out-loud at his own reflection. “I’m being paid to use my impressive talents… to write a birthday song… for a child… who regularly shits himself… what an honor.” If sarcasm were a drink, his tongue would be pickled.
Later he would eat those words, when the youngest child of the Munchen Family contracted the Grayaizes and died the day before his third birthday. That bothered the Elf… maybe it was that he had grown fond of little Fritz... or maybe it was that an entire song was wasted - I mean what were the chances that another child with the name of Fritz would be turning three on Festag the 3rd of Plugzeit? How do you recycle those lyrics???
That was the last straw.
You see, the Elf had come to Grissenwald quite by mistake originally. He had intended on becoming a musician in the grand city of Altdorf, to the north… but a few too many drinks, and a few too many hits of Elven Hair, and he woke up to splinters of the Grissenwald dock planks as he was tossed off the ship he had been traveling on.
That was four years ago. How time flies when you’re going from drink to drink, paying birthday songs for some Noble’s brat. It was time to leave town… but first a drink down at the Hog’s Head. Maybe that she-elf will be around...
The Human Initiate of Sigmar - Elan
It’s not that he wasn’t cut out to be a Sigmarian Priest… maybe it was that he just that he didn’t want to be cut out to be one. It wasn’t like he was there by choice anyway - his parents had probably sunk their entire life savings into the tutelage fee to get him admitted to the order. They left him in the care of the Grissenwald Church of Sigmar - Order of the Fiery Hearts to be cared for by the church. He was five.
Years and years passed, as did his youth. Now he had almost attained the rank of Cleric… but to what end? He knew that he would never be selected to join the ranks of the Battle Priests, or be sent to study in the great Sigmarian Library in Altdorf. No, that wasn’t his destiny. He would be relegated to praying the morning prayers, lighting the candles at mass, recording the daily coffer count, and listen to confessions until his ears bled.
And now Grissenwald was under threat of a plague. He had seen a dramatic influx of the faithful, filling the pews, each holding onto a sliver of hope as they prayed. Would Sigmar even hear them? Maybe if they dropped more coins in the coffers, then their loved one would get well… probably not. Sigmar wasn’t in the business of healing - that was Shallia… but the church would gladly take the extra coins anyway.
With the additional bodies pouring through the church doors it didn’t come as too much of a surprise that the sickness began to spread to his brothers. The Head Fathers were the first to go - perhaps letting the masses kiss your rings wasn’t the best practice after all. The sickness spread quickly from brother to brother, initiate and clerics alike. Thank Sigmar and Galmaraz it hadn’t touched him yet… yet.
He knew that if he stayed he’d throw his life away one way or another. He was meant for so much more!
With so many people going missing day after day, it was easy for him to “sign himself out” of the order’s registry, as it were. He took what little he had and made his way down to the docks, to see if he could get to Nuln, or anywhere else for that matter! He didn’t have much to his name, but he was sure he could figure something out. Oh look, a Dwarf - they were friends of the Sigmarians… and what an eclectic group of comrades he - er - SHE had with her. That was odd… but a welcome sight.
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