Something Wicked This Way Comes
Up until this point, your lives have been mundane, normal, and in some cases, simply quite boring. You are tired of the same dreary grey routine every day. You were all raised on tales of the Great War Against Chaos, and stories of Magnus the Pious and his victory over the armies of Chaos are well known. While there have been wars and threats in the 200 years since, there has been nothing on that scale. Until now. This year, 2522, the Chaos Lord Archaon invaded the Empire with five mighty armies. They swept down from the Chaos Wastes, ranks filled with mutant warriors, nigtmarish monsters and power-mad sorcerers. Flagellants and other prophets of doom declared these the End Times. As these armies pillaged and burned their way through the northern provinces of the Empire, it was easy to believe.
You've heard endless stories over the past few months. They say that Sigmar once again walked the earth. They say an army of wolves attacked the Kislevian city of Erengrad. They say the dead rose from their graves to defend the Empire. They say a mighty victory was won at Middenheim. They say a plague has choked the streets of Talabheim with bloated corpses. They say that wealth, treasure, honor, valor, and even the possibilty of titles of land ownsership and Lordship lie out there for the taking. With visions of these things filling your head, you set out on the first riverboat to Nuln, all your meager belongings in hand, determined to find the adventure and treasure you know you deserve...Though cheap deck-class passage on the riverboat seemed the best choice at the time, you are now reconsidering. The weather has turned sour, and you sit huddled under your tattered cloak, soaked through and chilled to the bone. Shivering, you try to hold the tin plate that the boat's First Mate has just handed you. A scoop of some sort of gruel, a half of a raw potato, and a stale heel of bread is what passes for your meal on this delapidated old boat. You just hope the aging boat holds together long enough to get you the last leg of the way to Nuln. With only half a day's travel left, you hunker down, and hope the time will pass quickly. Huddled around you are others, some strangers, some new friends.
A deckhand stands near the rail, playing a knotted rope out over the side. Beside him stands another of the ships crew, calling out numbers that you assume are either depth or speed. Standing near the bow are a couple of mercenaries, hired to protect the boat, both holding crossbows and scanning the shorelines, though to be honest, from where you are sitting, one might be doing so with his eyes closed. You wonder to yourself, if this inauspicious beginning to your new life of adventure is a bad sign...
