Noted on these changes. I'd like to just point out that I've already submitted a Zhao Ming vs Greasus piece. Hope to see it included soon! Will be happy to help in any case.

Title: Dragon Tales
Subtitle: The Curseling's Reckoning
Trigger: Miao Ying vs Vilitch (Miao Ying victory)

Strangely enough, despite her hatred for the Oracle of Tzeentch and Daemonkind as a whole, Miao Ying reserved even more contempt for the mortal servants of the Chaos Gods. After all, she reasoned, the Daemons were simply sentient bits of essence of the Ruinous Powers; their purpose and motivations were something that were simply part of their nature. Mortals who fell to the temptations of Chaos, on the other hand, were nothing short of weaklings driven by a lust for unholy power. Among the mortals she thus held a strong disdain for was none other than the abomination known as the Curseling.

As it happened, the paths of the Master of Misrule and the Storm Dragon would eventually cross. And with this rare opportunity made available to her, she decided that to deprive Chi’an Chi of one of his more reliable servants was to benefit Cathay. With the armies of Cathay marching behind her, the Supreme Matriarch would thus seek battle against the depraved Chaos Sorcerer.

“They deploy magic against us!” cried one terrified Jade Warrior as the sky lit up with flames of pink and blue fire. Shields were quickly raised as the Cathayans took cover from the conflagration of a bombardment. Those who failed to do so in time were punished for their sloth, their armour melting to the tongues of magical flame.

Barely had they survived that fiery onslaught when Vilitch, dissatisfied to see that particular regiment still standing relatively intact, called upon the Winds and summoned an even more potent ball of flame. “Yes, yes, stand right there,” he chuckled viciously. “Line yourselves up for me, will you?”

With that, he launched his attack, the ball transforming into a pillar of flame that barrelled towards the wide-eyed Cathayans. That was, at least, until the flames slammed into the magical barrier that was suddenly erected before them. Miao Ying grunted as she struggled to contain the intense flame with her barrier. It was impossible to dissipate such a powerful burst of energy, and as she strained, cracks in the barrier began to show.

Seeing this, Vilitch laughed. “Look, Thomin! She’s no match for my magic! Can anyone ever doubt my talents?”

Miao Ying simply snarled. As the barrier reached its breaking point, a thought occurred to her. You can never contain a river, but you can redirect it. She willed half the barrier to cease its existence, namely the half closest to Vilitch.

Finally free of its prison and with nowhere else to go, the tongues of flame raced back towards their caster, with Thomin’s many eyes slowly widening and Vilitch screeching in panic. He needed time, time to open a portal and –

Escape was not possible with skin being burnt off and metal being melted onto one’s skin. Vilitch, engulfed in the flames of his own creation, cried out to his patron god to save him, that he would continue to serve him and further the Architect’s plans. All he heard before the world went silent was a distant, mocking laugh.

Thanks for your understanding

Title: The Iron Dragon's Tale
Subtitle: A Kind Word & A Friendly Face
Trigger: Zhao Ming vs Helman Ghorst (Zhao Ming victory)

“I must say, that despite our differences, your dedication to your family certainly is…respectable.”

“In all my years, never once has anyone, friend or foe, ever seen it that way.”

“True,” nodded Zhao Ming as he sat himself across his erstwhile opponent. “But my years living and walking among my subjects have taught me much about the human spirit. And while some give in completely to evil, most are…complicated.”

At this, Helman Ghorst just smiled weakly. In his defence, what little strength he had left was being sapped away by the presence of the sword lodged in his chest. Being pinned against a tree certainly was not helping matters either. But still, it was not often that he received compliments such as this. He was more used to threats of damnation and revenge, as well as the moaning of his undead servants.

Around them, the remains of Ghorst’s undead hordes were littered. With the necromancer having barely any life left in himself to keep them animated, the fearsome force that had threatened to swallow the forces of Shang-Yang whole had finally crumbled into broken bones and rotten flesh. Not that they went out without a fight though. Zhao Ming himself was covered with quite a few newly acquired scars of war that he was examining as he sat himself down before his dying enemy.

“I hope you know that the conflict between us was not one I consider personal,” said the Iron Dragon, gently patting Ghorst on the shoulder. “But you attacking Cathayan caravans certainly drew my father’s ire, and I do have some expectations to live up to, being the Lord of Shang-Yang.”

Ghorst nodded. “If you lost any friends in those caravans, I am sorry. The wealth they transported was a great boon to my cause. And I ensured that they did not suffer much deprivations in their second chance at life.”

Zhao Ming frowned a little at this. “I suppose that is where we differ. Death is simply part of life. It is not an obstacle that requires overcoming, any more than the seasons are.”

“A little strange, coming from an immortal Dragon and alchemist such as yourself,” noted Ghorst. “Do you sincerely mean to tell me that in your endeavours, never once did you seek a way to ensure one’s return from the grave?”

At this, Zhao Ming shook his head. “Turn lead into gold? Yes. Turn the blood of a living creature into molten iron? Yes. Defeat death? Never.”

“Why is that?” Ghorst sincerely asked.

The Iron Dragon thought about it for a moment. After some time spent in silence, he finally spoke, “Death is what gives life value. It is the way of the world. With the knowledge that your time on this plane of existence is short, one is motivated to make the best out of it.”

He would have gone on, talking about the philosophy of life and death that he had formed over the years, had he not noticed that the necromancer had already breathed his last. Rising and walking up to Ghorst’s body, he leaned down and pushed his eyelids shut.

“May you find the peace you need,” Zhao Ming whispered. “In this life and the next.”

Title: Dragon Tales
Subtitle: The Fall of the Suneater
Trigger: Miao Ying vs Kholek Suneater (Miao Ying victory)

The storm of the century came without warning. All across the Old World, and according to some unverified reports, the New World, a distant rumbling was heard. Dwarfs and Men mistook it as cannon fire, with some garrisons rushing to their battlements, expecting an enemy army assembled outside the walls. Few had knowledge of what had actually transpired that day, and fewer still saw the darkening clouds hovering above the mountains of the east.

The sun did not shine on the valley in which the battle raged. What little light that those fighting for their lives received came from the flashes of lightning that illuminated the battlefield with blinding brightness. The roar of thunder easily drowned out the sounds of steel cutting into flesh, the cries of the wounded and the dying. Amidst the brief moments of visibility, though, those who could tear their gaze away from the enemy before them could see two gargantuan silhouettes tearing into each other with bestial ferocity. Two ancient creatures sought each other’s death that day.

Both the Dragons and the Dragon-Ogres had lived long before the coming of the Old Ones. Yet, even before then, they had held each other with contempt. The enmity only grew in intensity with the Coming of Chaos, during which the elders of the Dragon-Ogre race swore their fealty to the Ruinous Powers. The Dragons, ever opposed to the Dark Gods, thus vowed to destroy the Dragon-Ogres at all costs. It was a vow that Miao Ying, the Storm Dragon, aimed to keep.

Kholek Suneater’s bestial roar shook the very earth as he struggled to dislodge the dragon that had coiled tightly around him. He leapt, he fell, he struck and still, Miao Ying tightened her grip, unwilling to give the creature any room to breathe. Yet, even she realised that she lacked the physical strength to slay this beast. The plates of brass he wore were near impenetrable, and beneath that were scales and muscles hardened by the centuries. As he continued to buck and throw himself against the mountains, Miao Ying realised that a decisive blow needed to be struck soon, before fatigue wore her down.

They fought close to the edge of a precipice, overlooking a chasm. What awaited below, neither of them knew. Perhaps it was the boiling heart of the world itself, perhaps it was just jagged spikes of obsidian. Either way, Miao Ying kept that in mind as she tightened her coils around the Dragon-Ogre, her talons striking away at his eyes. In his rage, he lurched forward, swinging Starcrusher wildly. As the ground beneath them began to crumble, Miao Ying immediately released her quarry and raced into the sky. With one word, a powerful column of lightning struck the earth.

Time seemed to slow as the ground finally broke away, chunks of it falling deep into the chasm. With them fell Kholek Suneater, his eyes balefully gazing at the Storm Dragon even as he disappeared into the darkness of the chasm, never to be seen again.

Title: Dragon Tales
Subtitle: The Fellhearts Felled
Trigger: Miao Ying vs Lokhir Fellheart (Miao Ying victory)

“The day is lost! Every Druchii for himself!”

It started off as the single, lonely cry of a young, frightened corsair. It should have remained that way. Still, as haughty as they were, the Dark Elves were neither blind nor foolish. As Cathayan arrows, bolts, bullets and rockets ripped through the tightly-packed ranks of the Druchii raiders, the resolve that had been keeping them fighting began to crack. With a large hue and cry, the Druchii began to flee. A large roar swept up the Cathayans as they set off in pursuit of the routing enemy.

Amidst the elation of the Cathayan side, Miao Ying stayed tense. The battle was won, of course, but what of that wretched creature called the Krakenlord? She had caught sight of Fellheart at the start of the battle, riding atop his Black Dragon steed. Afterwards, she had lost track of him, as the fierce fighting was nothing short of chaotic and brutal. Just as she was about to order some of her men to launch a search, a series of loud cries caught her attention.

A handful of Druchii corsairs were on the beach, with a few already in the water, flailing their arms as they tried to swim after something. “Come back!” “Don’t leave us!”

Tearing her eyes away from the scene, Miao Ying then found what it was they were calling out to. Her eyes widened and her mouth quirked in disgust. The Lord of Karond Kar was a coward. His Black Ark, the Tower of Blessed Dread, was already in the far distance, sailing away from the shore at top speed. No doubt its master had seen the way the winds were blowing and had decided a withdrawal to Naggaroth would be timely.

The Storm Dragon was not to let him go so easily though. The Fellhearts had caused no small amount of trouble for the Celestial Empire. After all, it was Lokhir’s ancestor who had paved the way for Druchii raiders to terrorise the coasts of Cathay. She still remembered the fate of the forgotten town, wiped off the face off the map after a raid by the Druchii. No, the Druchii would not escape without punishment this time! And their punishment? Death!

Fellheart watched with alarm as the skies above his vessel began to grow as dark as night. Storm clouds seemed to materialise out of nothingness and –

“There’s something in the clouds!”

Turning his gaze upwards, he saw Miao Ying’s serpentine form circling above the Black Ark, with hail and rain pelting down onto the deck. Even at this distance, their eyes still met and Lokhir realised that perhaps he should have stayed put in Chupayotl.

A blast of lightning, the most powerful ever seen in this side of the world, shattered through the air and the waves, slamming down on the Black Ark. Like a sword cleaving through cloth, the Tower of the Blessed Dread was torn asunder, with its crew and captain following it to the depths. Never again would the Fellhearts be a threat to Cathay. Miao Ying had made sure of that.

Title: The Greenskin Tribes
Subtitle: An Old Score
Trigger: Occupy Zharr-Naggrund as a Greenskin faction

Once, the Chaos Dwarfs of Zharr-Naggrund made a mistake. Even with the greatest slave population in the Old World, their ravenous hunger had left them wanting. Thus, they decided that they needed a breed of slave that was hardy enough to stand the hellish conditions of their infernal forges and obedient enough to listen to their every command.

They succeeded in their goal, but with their success, they had created the very cause of their downfall. The Black Orcs were endowed with brute strength, but they were no fools either. They saw little reason to bow to such uncaring masters who saw and treated them as cattle.

Hence, it was only a matter of time that the Black Orcs organised and revolted against their masters. It was a great rebellion that threatened to destroy everything and anything the Dawi-Zharr had built. If not for the treachery of the Hobgoblins, the Black Orcs would certainly have succeeded in their goals.

The rebellion was put down with many slaves paying a heavy price for their insubordination. Few managed to escape, and among them was a Black Orc who swore that this rebellion was far from extinguished. “The biggest, the baddest will return,” he vowed.

And returned, they did. Having gathered a large Waaagh! in the years that followed, their desire to return to their place of creation had never ebbed. Deciding that the time for revenge was now, they surged eastwards, across the Dark Lands towards the nightmarish citadel of the Chaos Dwarfs. Their approach was impossible to conceal, given their numbers and their loud enthusiasm. Even when they were miles away from their destination, the trembling earth gave away their position to the horrified Chaos Dwarfs. Defences were strengthened and more fodder gathered to slow down the advance of the Greenskins.

This again proved to be a poorly-thought move by the slavemasters. The slaves of Zharr-Naggrund saw little point to dying for such uncaring masters, and even more so at the hands of kindred spirits. As the two armies met outside the gates of the city, many slave regiments turned on their Dwarfen masters, ripping them apart in rage and fury before joining the Waaagh! The Dawi-Zharr fought on despite this mass betrayal, with their powerful war machines reaping many souls. Yet, where one Greenskin fell, ten would trample over his body in their desperation to get into the thick of the fighting.

The city fell, with the Chaos Dwarfs finally feeling the consequences of their actions firsthand. The Dwarf Sorcerers were torn apart on their own bloodstained altars and not a few slavers were hurled into the burning fires of their forges.

With Zharr-Naggrund in Greenskin hands, a question soon arose among the more “intelligent” of their species. Were they to raze this city as a warning to all who would cross them? Or would they enslave the surviving Chaos Dwarfs to create powerful weapons of war for future Waaaghs! With Gork and Mork’s guidance, a decision would eventually have to be reached.

Title: Overtyrant of the Ogre Kingdoms
Subtitle: The Shield of Cathay?
Trigger: Greasus Goldtooth vs Grimgor Ironhide (Greasus victory)

“Oh ho ho! Look who comes! It’s my favourite scaly friend!”

At hearing his new title, Zhao Ming could not help but grin. Barely had he reached out his hand when he found himself being given a strong shaking down by the Overtyrant. “Greasus, my friend! I hope you are doing well!”

“Well indeed, my Cathayan bud. Oi, what’s all this then?” Greasus looked over Zhao Ming’s shoulder, his eyes gleaming greedily at the sight of the carts laden with gold and all sorts of other treasures that were lined up behind the Cathayan prince. Already, the Goldtooth Tribe was starting to pick through them, many gathering around the cart which apparently held all sorts of delicacies from the Cathayan imperial kitchens.

“A gift from my father,” explained Zhao Ming. “For months, had we expected the worst as the hordes of the one they call Grimgor approached Cathay’s borders. Yet, in the end, even the most ferocious of the Greenskin menace fell away before your might. For that, all Cathay thanks you for your service to the Empire.”

Upon hearing this, Greasus simply broke out into hearty laughter. His meaty hand slapped down on Zhao Ming’s shoulder, his belly bouncing as he replied, “Oh, that? That’s nothing, my friend. That greenie twit had it coming as soon he tried coming into my mountains. Made a good stew out of him, I did.”

Zhao Ming’s brows rose, but he decided that discovering whether Greenskins did indeed taste like mushrooms could wait another day. “I take it the creature proved to be a worthy opponent?”

“It was the best, I tell you, dragon boy. That beastie brought a big army. Green as far as the eyes could see, covering the mountain valleys over there. But, thing is, I had numbers too. You don’t wear this for nothing!” said Greasus, poking at the oversized crown seated atop his head. “Biggest gathering of Ogres these mountains have ever seen.”

“Must have been quite the battle.”

“Oh, was it! The boys can tell you that! Twas quite the feast. And that Grimgor? Demanded I fight him, one on one.”

“You agreed?”

Greasus grinned. “You shocked, boy? Of course, I agreed!”

“But why?”

“Fun! Hours, we fought. That beast could fight. No weakling, that one. But you can’t beat old Greasus. Knocked away his axe and tried to get my hands on him. Slippery one, that Grimgor. Guess what? He grabbed my sceptre and tried bonking me on the head with it!”

“How did you survive that?” Zhao Ming wondered aloud.

“Eh, I wouldn’t,” Greasus admitted. “But this crown is hardier than it looks. Bounced off, and boy, wasn’t pleased with him, I was. No one touches my sceptre, nobody.”

“Then what happened?”

“Sat on him. At least, until he stopped moving. His boys chickened out after that. Mine had quite the feast afterwards. Quite the chase we had too! They won’t be back, I will tell you that. They now know who’s the biggest and baddest. And it ain’t that flat mess of Grimgor, they know!”

Title: The Overtyrant of the Ogre Kingdoms
Subtitle: A Bad Name
Trigger: Greasus Goldtooth vs Kholek Suneater (Greasus victory)


“Oi! Beastie, you there! Been giving us Ogres a bad name, you have! And the Dragons too, if the lizard boy is right! No matter! I will have your guts for supper!”

If Kholek Suneater had a sense of humour, he would probably have laughed as soon as he laid his eyes on the creature that dared to challenge him so blatantly on the battlefield. However, service to the Dark Gods never did endow him with such a gift and he was thus left to glare unamused at the Ogre that was swaggering up to him with his jewel-encrusted sceptre in hand.

The Overtyrant, Greasus Goldtooth, was well-known for his greed, having accumulated the greatest wealth the Old World had ever seen. The Mountains of Mourn were thus seen to be his domain and his alone. Kholek and his horde had been staking their claim on Greasus’ lands and that was something that simply could not be left unpunished. Not one to share his mountains with interlopers, it was decided that the Dragon-Ogre was to leave, either in one piece or several.

“Wretched creature!” bellowed Kholek. “You dare approach me?!”

“Of course!” came the reply. “Can’t bash your thick noggin in without getting closer!”

“PERISH!” Starcrusher was raised high in the air, the gigantic Warhammer seemingly touching the sky right before it came crashing down onto the earth with a meteor’s might. A crater the size of a small town was left in its wake, but Greasus was nowhere near it. The Ogre, as corpulent as he was, was dangerously swift. He moved quickly, darting between Kholek’s trunk-like legs, slamming his sceptre into the thick scales as he went.

While Greasus’ attacks left few if no lasting injuries, Kholek remained livid. How dare this inferior being challenge him? Greasus was careful to stay out of Kholek’s sight, and the Dragon-Ogre stomped and kicked his feet, attempting to crush the Overtyrant under foot. There were several near misses, but Greasus was quick on his feet, almost dancing beneath his gargantuan foe and grinning away as he did. He could sense that by the end of this day, he would have another title next to “Drakecrush”.

“ENOUGH!” roared Kholek as he swung his warhammer wildly, trying to see where the Ogre had gone. Amidst all this, Greasus took the opportunity to clamber onto the Dragon-Ogre’s tail, rushing across his back before scaling the upper torso of the ancient creature. Kholek howled in outrage as he tried to dismount the uninvited rider, but Greasus persisted, eventually managing to come within reach of his intended target. “Enough indeed,” he laughed, as he raised his sceptre and brought it crashing down onto the back of Kholek’s skull.

It took a few hits for it to finally break through brass and bone, but Kholek finally collapsed as his brain seeped out of the newly created hole. A roar of approval rang out from Greasus’ tribesmen, as Kholek’s followers fled for the hills. Leaping off his defeated foe, the Overtyrant beamed with pride as he proclaimed, “Dragon-Ogre stew tonight, boys!”

Title: The Once and Future Git
Subtitle: The Gibbing of Greasus
Trigger: Grimgor Ironhide vs Greasus Goldtooth (Grimgor victory)

Even as he continued to launch powerful swings in the direction of his enemy, Greasus could not help but worry a little. The Overtyrant had gotten into his fair share of fights during his life. After all, getting to where he was now in life required that he bash in a large number of skulls. As far as he was concerned, up till now, he was the unchallenged ruler of the Mountains of Mourn. The few challengers who had dared contest his claim had proven themselves unworthy of the title when they were crushed by his sheer might.

Yet, this particular Warboss, called Grimgor, was certainly proving to be more than Greasus had initially expected. He was a brute, no doubt, but not a mindless one. That was quite the surprise and Grimgor seemed to confirm it as he kept deftly moving out of the reach of Greasus’ sceptre. Of course, for Greasus it was great to have a worthy challenge after such a long time. Still, there was a little voice in the very back of Greasus’ thick skull that spoke to him. Do not underestimate this Orc, it whispered, or this will be the last mistake you may ever make.

Around them, the battle between Greenskins and Ogres raged. This was like the biggest battle the Mountains of Mourn had ever hosted. For hours, Maneaters and Bulls hurled themselves at the endless tide of green, sweeping aside scores of Goblins and Orcs with each swing of their weapons. Yet, the sea of Greenskins did not seem to be ebbing. In fact, they were trampling over each other to get a taste of the action. However, both Ogres and Greenskins seemed content with letting Greasus and Grimgor duel amidst the carnage. A circle of sorts had formed around them, with both sides cheering on their respective leaders.

“Enough of tis’. Your guts are for Gork and Mork!” Frustrated that their duel was seemingly going nowhere, Grimgor lurched forward, axe raised in hand, hoping to strike home in his fit of rage. A smirk stretched across the Ogre’s face. The moment he had been waiting for. With speed that caught Grimgor by surprise, Gitsnik was knocked out of his hand, leaving him momentarily defenceless. Greasus still remembered how he killed the last Warboss who had dared challenge him, and he sought to replicate that moment from so long ago. He threw aside his sceptre and reached out to grab hold of Greasus.

Grimgor was no Ironskull though, and he suspected Greasus’ intentions. He rolled out of the way, looking about for Gitsnik. He spotted his axe a distance away, too far to be of use. But there was something else within range. The Ogre’s sceptre was taken in hand and before Greasus could move to defend himself, Grimgor was on him, raising the sceptre which crackled with an ancient power as he brought it down.

Perhaps he should have listened to that little voice after all, thought Greasus, in his last moments of thought before his head exploded under the power of the crushing sceptre.

Title: Children of the Gods
Subtitle: A Wound Cut Out
Trigger: Occupy Skeggi as a Lizardman faction

For decades, the human inhabitants of the settlement known as Skeggi have been naught but insects crawling around in the gangrenous wound in Lustria's flesh. Its very existence had brought nothing but trouble to the Lizardmen who had shown great mercy by not simply annihilating the settlement in its early days. For this mercy, all the Lizardmen had received in return were acts of thievery by the greedy creatures living within Skeggi. Countless sacred ruins had been defiled by these vile brigands and it was only a matter of time before the time came for this wound to be cut out.

That time has come. For the Great Plan to come to fruition, Lustria itself must be cleansed of any that do not belong in its lush jungles and rich lands. Lord Mazdamundi of Hexoatl has declared this to be the will of the Old Ones. The Lizardmen were thus one and united in this goal. The inhabitants of Skeggi were to be expelled from these lands. If they wish to leave alive, they were welcomed to do so. If they resisted, their eradication would thus be justified. The preservation of the lives of such insects was of little concern to the Lizardmen.

In the face of such a mighty war host, Skeggi fell within days. Those who chose to defend the settlement were sacrificed on the altars of the Mage-Priests and only a few were left alive to warn the rest of their kind not to abuse the hospitality of the Cold Ones. The mutilated corpses of any who dare defy the Lizardmen are to be left on the shores surrounding Skeggi, as a warning to any future trespassers. This is the Will of the Old Ones, thus has been decreed.

Title: Manann's Servant
Subtitle: The Execution of Aranessa Saltspite
Trigger: Alberic de Bordeleaux vs Aranessa Saltspite (Alberic victory)

There was much talk abound in Bordeleaux about an upcoming execution. A pirate had been sentenced to hang for their crimes against the Bretonnian Navy as well as other seafarers from the civilised nations. This was no ordinary pirate, however. For one, it was a pirate that Duke Alberic himself had brought in after besting them in personal combat while at sea. Tall tales had spread about the ferocious battle that had pitted the duke against the infamous sea captain known as Aranessa Saltspite. Whether or not these tales had any element of truth to them whatsoever was a different matter altogether.

In the taverns of Bordeleaux, salt-encrusted sailors spun a tale about how Alberic lead a squadron of the dukedom’s best vessels in search of the Swordfysh, Aranessa’s personal galleon. This was part of his mission to make the sea lanes safer for Bretonnian merchants. Some also added something about Alberic having made a vow to Manann. In any case, it was a long search, with the duke pursuing leads passed to him by fishermen and captured pirates. For the most part, they were faulty or outdated information, with Alberic sometimes frequently weighing anchor at ports where Aranessa had docked weeks before.

However, the search was not completely futile as it unexpectedly bore fruit. Aranessa soon caught wind that the Bretonnians were on her tail. While a daring captain, the Pirate Queen also knew that confronting her pursuers head-on would be the fastest way to end up in the ocean depths. Deciding that caution was advisable, she sailed back to Sartosa, hoping to take shelter in the pirate-friendly harbour there. Alberic happened to have contacts there who promptly sent word to him once the Swordfysh was spotted weighing anchor. Without wasting any time, Alberic and his ships set sail.

The details of what happened next seem to have become somewhat muddled. While everyone agreed that the Bretonnians imposed a blockade on the island, how Aranessa ended as Alberic’s prisoner was a different matter altogether. Some said that pride forced her to meet the Bretonnians in combat, during which she was soundly beaten and captured. Others said that treachery was afoot and had her handed over to the duke. The former was a sounder theory though, as the Bretonnian fleet did return with quite a few holes in their hulls. The thought of Alberic using treachery to defeat an opponent was hardly feasible either.

Regardless, the people of Bordeleaux were looking forward to see the Queen of the Tides in person, even if it was to be at her execution. Mothers brought their children and men their parents to Castle Bordeleaux where the gallows had been set up. Duke Alberic was also present, having decided to show up in person. They waited. And waited. And waited.

Just as questions began to be raised about what was going on, the sound of thundering hooves echoed throughout the courtyard. A squire rode in, bearing a terrible message. “She’s escaped! Captain Aranessa is on the run!”

TItle: Servant of Manann
Subtitle: A Tale of Honour and Undeath
Trigger: Alberic de Bordeleaux vs The Red Duke (Alberic victory)

“Knights of Bretonnia! Before us are the Undead scourge that have stained our kingdom’s honour for far too long. The Red Duke himself, the fallen kin of Louis the Righteous, marches out to meet us! Let there be no mistake of what he once was! For the great Northern Sword died the day this wretched creature of the night was born! He is endowed with unholy strength, but fear not, for the Lady and Manann is with us! Steady yourselves! Strike hard with your lances and show no fear! For today, we cleanse Bretonnia of an age-old wound! For Bretonnia! For the Lady! Charge!”

With a mighty roar of approval, the knights surrounding Alberic de Bordeleaux charged onwards, lances and swords in hand as they rushed to face the oncoming surge of the Undead. It was one of the biggest cavalry charges the Old World had ever spectated, with knights from all over the realm having participated in fear of losing out in a wonderful opportunity to earn fame and glory on the battlefield. The thundering hooves of the land’s finest steeds did little to sway the unfeeling masses of Zombies and Skeletons, but the impact certainly sent scores of them flying.

As the charge devolved into a melee, Alberic, from atop his vantage point, saw a cloud of dust being kicked up in the distance. A Blood Knight contingent emerged from the woods, with a single figure leading them forward. The Red Duke! Gritting his teeth, Alberic urged Tempete onwards, with his household guard following closely after him. The Red Duke was no doubt planning to encircle the main line, but Alberic suspected that he could buy some time for his fellow knights to fully break through the enemy’s centre. Hence, he made a spectacle of himself as he rode up to the Red Duke, Wrath of Manann held firmly in hand as he brought his foe to a stop.

“Halt, fiend!” ordered Alberic. “You will go no further today. I vow this on Manann and my honour.”

Atop his Hellsteed, the Red Duke sneered at his opponent. “What is honour when compared to power? Join me and I will show you what true power is. The Lady of Bretonnia is but a sham, a mirage in the desert. Undeath, on the other hand, unlocks doors you could never even imagine. What could possibly stand in your way?”

“A man of honour,” came the reply. “Just as one stands before you. You adore death, no? Today, I shall see you welcome it.”

“So be it!” hissed the Red Duke as he drew the Blade of Leaping Gold and began battle with Alberic.

The duel between the Duke of Bordeleaux and the Scourge of Aquitaine would become stuff of Bretonnian legend. They duelled for hours, meeting blow for blow, with each surviving strikes that should have been mortal blows. For all the power the Vampire had though, the Blessing of the Lady and the strength of Manann was with Alberic that day. With a thrust of his trident, the unholy metal of the Red Duke’s armour was finally breached and for the first time in centuries, Bretonnia was free of the Undead scourge.

Title: Servant of Manann
Subtitle: Roaring Currents
Trigger: Alberic de Bordeleaux vs Grom the Paunch (Alberic victory)

“Let loose and let fly! Let these cannons sing! Let none of these Greenskin filth live to tell the tale of today! Let Manann’s rage flow through your veins! For this day, the sea will claim its share of lives!”

Barely had Alberic spoken when the cannons of his flagship roared to live, firing hot balls of metal that punched holes in the rickety hulls of the poorly-built Greenskin ships. If there was to be any doubts of Bretonnian seamanship, the speed and efficiency at which the Bretonnians kept up their fire would be enough to prove it.

On the other side of the narrow straits was none other than Grom the Paunch himself, watching on in disbelief and outrage as the first wave of Greenskin vessels were shattered into flotsam by the ferocious carronade of the Duke’s Le Tortue. His annoyance also stemmed from the fact that, as far as anyone could see, Le Tortue stood on its own, like a lonesome castle in a field. The other Bretonnian ships seemed to staying a safe distance away from the fighting, leaving their Duke vulnerable amidst the fighting. “Oi, gitz! Get in there! We’ll bonk them eazy, just like last time!” yelled Grom as he urged his captains to join the fight.

Just weeks ago, the Bretonnian Navy had been left in shambles after the corpulent Greenskin warlord had caught the fleet in harbour. Many of the kingdom’s best vessels were either destroyed or heavily damaged. Demoralised, King Louen had considered ordering all his knights withdraw to defend their land holdings, but Alberic, with the same courage he had shown all his life thought otherwise. “Your majesty, I still have twelve ships.” He swore to catch Grom the Paunch at sea and put a permanent end to the Greenskin menace. With the best sailors of the kingdom behind him, he set forth on his quest to end Grom the Paunch once and for all.

Alberic knew he was outnumbered, and his fellow captains were wary of the enemy fleet which outnumbered them ten to one. The Bretonnian Navy, though battered, still had its strengths though. The superior firepower they possessed came to prove decisive as the Greenskin fleet’s numbers were mitigated as they were forced to traverse through a narrow strait, where numbers could not be brought to bear. In fact, as more of the Greenskin ships were wrecked, the wreckage began to slow the advance of their own reinforcements.

“Ya, gitz! Where ya goin’?” Grom hollered as panic took hold of his own crew. The Orc Hulk that he had as his flagship was starting to list, with the Warboss struggling to keep steady on his own deck. “Tis battle ain’t over! The humies can’t even hit me from – “

A stray cannonball could possibly have bounced off his layers of blubber, but his head was not as hardy as his gut. The iron ball ripped it clean off, sending it flying and over the side of the ship. Found floating in the water by a Bretonnian cannoneer, Alberic had it hoisted atop his forward mast. The sight was enough to convince the surviving Greenskins to beat a retreat. Grom the Paunch was dead and there would be no comeback for him this time.

Title: Manann's Daughter
Subtitle: The Knight of Mannan... (or "The Son of Manann")
Trigger: Alberic de Bordeleaux vs Aranessa Saltspite (Aranessa victory)

There was much revelry abound in the pirate principality of Sartosa about a recent victory on the high seas. Men sang, drank and made merry for they had beaten a seemingly unassailable foe, who had sought to burn Sartosa itself to the ground. This foe was none other than the Bretonnian Duke Alberic himself, who had been bested by none other than the dread pirate Aranessa Saltspite during the recent siege of the city. Tall tales had spread about the ferocious battle that had pitted the duke against the infamous sea captain, but in typical Sartosan fashion most of these tales were more yarn than truth.

In many taverns of the pirate principality, many a black-hearted sea dog spun a tale about how the Swordfysh crew, led by it's infamous captain, Aranessa Saltspite, had been rampaging up and down the Bretonnian sea-lanes for months; looking for Bordeleaux ships filled with Lustrian gold from the Duke's most recent voyage to the new world. Some claim that Aranessa had learned of this bounty through a vision from her father Manann, whilst others suspected far darker forces. In any case, her actions soon caught the attention of the Duke of Bordeleaux himself.

When Aranessa learned that the Bordeleaux Grand Squadron, lead by Alberic de Bordeleaux himself was on her tail, she knew it was time to return home to Sartosa. While a daring captain, the Queen of tides also knew that confronting Alberic was a risky prospect, especially since the loyalties of her father Mannan would be divided. Thus she ordered her crew to return home to Sartosa, believing that Alberic would not follow.

She had been wrong and soon Sartosa was under siege by a fleet bearing the colours of Bordeleaux. What happened next though was up to interpretation. While everyone agreed that the Bretonnians imposed a blockade on the island, how Aranessa was able to beat back the fleet and capture Alberic was a different matter altogether.

Some said that the Pirate Princess of Sartosa rallied the pirates of the city, banding them together to create an impregnable screen of galleons and cutters that decimated the Britonnians. Others say that the two held their fleets back, instead entering a duel of flagships, followed by an actual duel in the rigging of the Swordfysh as the two vessels circled a Maelstrom summoned by Mannan himself out of anger... there was also a third version involving the Shadewraith and a jar of sand?

Regardless, the Bordeleaux fleet had been routed, and their sea-lord captured, with the days of the Duke of Bordeleaux being numbered. The Pirate Lords of the city were planning to hang him, both to send a message and to make sure that he didn't return with another fleet, as Borgio the Besieger had.

Aranessa though was personally against executing him as not only would the death of the Duke merely galvanise Bretonnia's war against the principality, but she seen a sign from her Father and knew that Alberic's death would incur his wrath... alas, she was out voted, leaving her with few other choices...

At Smithy's, the evening of revelry was interrupted when a panicked captain burst in, bearing a terrible message. “He’s escaped! Alberic's cut the noose an' be on the run!"

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Authors note:

Shout out to noelwym! After reading your most recent additions, I was inspired to write up this little piece myself (though if you had plans to do your own Aranessa victory, feel free to ignore this, otherwise some feedback is appreciated)