Marienburg, a city sold down the river by generations of corrupt bureaucrats and fallen do-gooders. Once the centre of the Empire’s commerce on account of its great ports, the city fell into shame as the once proud mantra for independence devolved into nought but an excuse for wealthy mercantile and mercenary interests to rule over its inhabitants without oversight from the Empire at large. Now home to some of the greatest scum this side of the Black Mountains, surrounded by the fetid swamps of the Wastelands and haunted by fog so bleak that the very edifices in its embrace were beginning to crumble, this town would be the latest point of interest for Conrad Gottschalk, one of the Empire’s most accomplished warrior priests – the so-proclaimed “Hammer of Sigmar” with over 60 arrests under his belt.

Upon making the long ride by steed from the Holy Temple of Sigmar back in Altdorf to this stinking wretch of a city he immediately went to see his contact who’d summoned him here in the first place. Brother Albertus Cobbius, Headmaster of St. Rutha’s orphanage and a deeply pious man concerned by the way this city has fallen.

“What seems to be the problem brother? I hope my journey has not been wasted.” Conrad spoke.

“It will be. Please, come inside. I cannot risk to be seen by prying eyes.”

The warrior priest entered the orphanage and found several children’s and adolescents’ bodies lying stone-cold on tables, their skin pale and their lips blue. Death had seemingly taken them recently based on the fact some bodies were still moving under the morbid visage of rigour mortis.

“How did this happen?” the priest demanded to know.

“A new product. It’s been all the range with the streetfolk around the canals. I begged them not to part-take but with the way it’s been flooding our streets… not to mention you know how children can be, the more you tell them not to do something the more certain you can be that they will.”

“What is this product?”

“They call it the Wine of Dreams, it’s been tremendously popular here on the promise that it can replicate the taste of elven Dreamwine at a fraction of the cost. But I’ve tasted it, I can tell you for certain that the two have nothing in common. This wine is frankly insipid, a cheap imitation of the real vintage yet once people gain a taste for it, they simply never stop. Please, I beg you. Investigate.”

“I regret intoxicants are not my area of expertise. I recommend you contact your local authorities to solve this matter.” Conrad advised.

“No, you hunt down heretics don’t you? Please, you don’t yet understand fully. The Stadsraad has been bought off and I fear truly nefarious intent behind this. Please, hear me out.” the orphan manager implored.

“You have 1 minute to convince me, starting now.”

“The wine gives it consumers immense delusions of grandeur. At first these come in the form of simple highs but by the end these become much worse. People forget to eat, to drink anything else but this… even once they’re as frail as a skeleton they won’t heed sense and will simply continue drinking themselves to deal. What’s even worse is that even the undead seem to have a taste for it…there must be some minuscule sample of blood in it that keeps them as slavishly enthralled as any man would be. We’re well accustomed to the sight of vampires in this town even if we would rather not be and I can tell you that I have personally witnessed them choose this stuff over seeking their pray. But this is worse than mere addiction your Reverence, for just as any consumer is about to perish his language slurs into a strange foreign tongue, a language in which they recite some prayer I cannot understand as they carve this into their skin.” Albertus explained as he went over to one of the dead bodies and turned their hand over, revealing a mark well know to Conrad’s eye, a mark of Slaanesh!

“This boy, Kurt was his name, cut this into his skin only moments after defiling his younger sister. Please, help us.” Albertus finished.

“I’ll take the case. Tell me everything you know about the wine’s distributors.” the Hammer of Sigmar commanded, having allowed Cobbius more than that single minute he originally offered.

“The wine’s rights belong to a monastery over in the Grey Mountains but here its distribution is managed by the Aesthetes, a wealthy club filled with socialites here in the Suiddock who’ve taken up residence in an old abandoned temple dedicated to Manann, known as the Church of St Olovald. I also believe they have tampered with the brew to make its contents more volatile.”

“Do they have a figurehead?”

“Just give me a second, ah yes, here she is.” Albertus stated as he took a file from a shelf and opened it up on a page. “My picture’s pretty old but it’s definitely her. Anetta van Klausner, also known as the Aesthete, she tried to adopt here a few years back but I felt compelled to turn her request down once we found out about her background.”

“Explain.” the Warrior Priest insisted.

“She’s a former, may Sigmar forgive me for uttering these words, a harlot. She hustled in the Golden Lotus pleasure district for some time only to quit working after her arm was sliced up by her handler during a quarrel. She didn’t react well to this though; the word around the canals says she feminised his privates using her teeth, that she sold him into slavery and made his business associates swear an allegiance to her. It sounds unbelievable but I assure you that when it comes to Klausner, believing takes seeing. I’ve seen her followers in action, not so long ago there were five main gangs seeking to control the Suiddock: Mundvard’s vampires, Molendijk’s Khainites, the Van de Kuypers, the Red Cocks and of course, the Golden Lotus. Now all of them are either dead, in her pocket or her best customers. The entire Suiddock is as good as hers.”

“How could she attain all that without facing punitive measures?”

“Have you any idea how long it’s been since a warrior priest last came to investigate the Suiddock?”

“Well, I’m here now. Just point me in the right direction and I’ll do what I can.”

______________________________________________________________________________

That evening Cobbius led the warrior priest through many of the canals and alleyways of the Suiddock until they reached the former church in which the club was based. From the outside Gottschalk could see plenty of lights and hear lots of music and cheering emanating from inside, clearly this wouldn’t be a stealth operation.

“Alright, stay outside and keep a watch for the perimeter. If anyone should come, make a signal to warn me. I’m going to flush them out.” Conrad ordered.

The warrior priest entered through the front entrance to the club without much resistance to get in. Upon entering the club he was gripped by all his worst fears at once. A thick smoke hung from the ceiling and the place stank of incense, the lighting of candles was set to a dim flicker thereby allowing vampires to tread without injury. The opening room itself was vast, at one end there was the bar where customers came to purchase their addictive wine, at the other there were gambling tables where Marienburg’s traders would waste whole years’ worths of their salary over ill-thought wagers, to yet another end were a series of couches where the customers too sloshed to part-take in activity anymore merely lounged around in various states of undress; among such culprits were the infamous vampire lord Mundvard the Cruel and his companion Alicia Von Unterwald, so drunk that their eyes had discoloured and their fangs turned purple as they were pleasured by a group of deformed humans. However, the main attraction came in the form of a massive dance floor dimly lit by a pair of chandeliers at the centre of the room in which men and vampires alike were holding a ball clad in expensive finery and wearing masks over their faces to conceal their true selves from one another.

Disgusted by what he saw, Conrad stepped forward and tipped over one of the gambling tables to get everyone’s attention.

“Listen up! I am Conrad Gottschalk, enforcer of the Church’s will! This town operates under the same rules as any other town of men and this heresy will not stand! I have come in search of your patroness Anetta van Klausner. She is a common criminal guilty of murder, guilty of prostitution, guilty of heresy, guilty of the manufacture and distribution of the narcotics including the falsely named Wine of Dreams and as of now, I am placing her under the rightful sentence of death. Any who obstruct my pursuit of justice or associate with her organisation calling themselves the Aesthetes will be treated as an accessory to her crimes, I warn you all!”

The room went silent for a second only for a jovial, feminine laughter to echo from the dance floor before a voluptuous woman in her thirties, clad in robes of a silk-velvet mesh and wearing a set of gloves which matched her ball-mask, stepped forward. “A death sentence? Come now Priest? You must be mistaken. I am a humble representatives of the arts, my academy of the Aesthetes produces some of the greatest painters, courtesans, dancers and poets this side of the Black Mountains. Behold O priest and revel in my beauty!” Anetta cried as she removed one of her gloves, revealing a withered three pronged claw, before going even further by discarding her robe to unfurl a sight of the corset beneath which was marked conspicuously by the symbol of the Perfect Prince.

“You confess to your heresies?” Conrad barked.

“I do … but only to frustrate you.” Van Klausner replied as one of her attendants leapt out of the shadows armed with a syringe.

….

• Laugh React: The poison pricked into Conrad’s neck, followed seconds later by Conrad dropping to his knees as his eye-sight began to blur. “What have you done to me?”

“A little gift I picked up from my time in the Golden Lotus.”

“Black Lotus?” Conrad asked between sudden coughing fits.

“Of course, nothing but the finest of poisons among us seekers of perfection. The sap of the Lotus flower will course through your bloodstream and knock out all your vital organs one by one, leading to a rather agonising death I’m afraid. I regret you never should have come here. This is my town after all.” Klausner concluded as she waved her clawed hand flamboyantly. A group of security heeded her signal and proceeded to drag the incapacitated warrior priest back outside the temple-club wherein they eventually dumped his body along one of the many trenches lining the banks of the canals.

Here Conrad would be left to die as the Black Lotus finished him off. It’s possible someone may discover him before that time comes but then again, moving such a large man to somewhere supplying medical help would be troublesome in and of itself.

….

(Prelude to everything other than laugh react)

The Warrior Priest anticipated the poisoner’s attack and instinctively evaded his approach and slammed the butt of his hammer into the assailant’s teeth, knocking many of them out.

“You thought a needle would take me down?” the Hammer of Sigmar mocked.

“Consider it a mercy on my end. A quick prick and death at the hands of Lotus bloom would make for such a calmer way to go than the option it seems I shall need to resort to. Alas, my enforcer tends to make a mess.” Klausner responded as a set of doors opened behind her, revealing a towering Norscan champion, clad in nothing but fur and wielding a two-handed axe encrusted with Norse Dwarfen runes.

The barbarian entered the room at the Mistress of the Aesthetes’ behest. “Meet Drenok Johansen. We picked him up after a scrape some time ago. He doesn’t speak much or necessarily care for my organisation’s activities particularly but fortunately, he understands the chain of command and the power of coin well enough.” Klausner suggested before turning to her guests. “Ladies! Gentlemen! Members of the occult! Might you join me in the drawing room for some after-party drinks? I’m afraid what is about to happen here may spoil our treasured sensibilities.”

And so, Anetta van Klausner and her many “party guests” retreated further into their hub as Conrad forced himself to stand once more and square up to the marauder champion.

….

• Angry React: Johansen charged forward toward the warrior priest and instantly tackled him to the ground using the brunt of his shoulder. Drenok lifted his axe over head and swung it down, Conrad veered sideways to evade the axe’s blade and delivered a swing of his mace toward the Norscan’s less armoured ribcage. The Norscan moved back, Conrad stood and proceeded to forward tackle the brute against one of the game’s tables.

Upon making contact with the table, his back cracking on impact, the Norscan roared in anguish as Conrad disarmed him. However, just as his weapon fell to the wayside the Norscan’s head suddenly transmuted, growing a spike out of his forehead which he proceeded to headbutt into Conrad’s right shoulder. The spike snapped off Drenok’s head and buried itself inside Conrad’s body, seemingly growing a set of hands around its base to keep it grasping onto Gottschalk’s body.

While Conrad struggled against the living spike jammed in his shoulder Drenok pressed his attack, landing an uppercut to the warrior priest’s chin before grabbing him by the neck and smashing his face into the very table surface the warrior priest had tried to pin the Norscan against.

The living spike continued its own mission, burying itself deeper into his body as its hands dug their way toward Conrad’s right lung. However, Drenok had no intention of letting the spike finish the battle for him. Instead, the Norscan lifted the warrior priest up and thumped his frame onto the table before caving his face in twice more. Finally, with Conrad’s face smeared in his own blood and the spike still gnawing its way through his body, the heretical Northerner put him out of his misery by walking over, picking up his axe and chopping Conrad’s head off.

It would take some time to clear up but fortunately, the Aesthetes’ festivities could soon continue without the threat of church interference to worry about.

….

(Prelude to Wow, Sad and Love React)

The two giant men clashed in an immense brawl as Conrad swung with his hammer only for Drenok to tackle him around the waist and throw him across the bar’s counter. Drenok charged anew while Conrad defended himself by chucking stray bottles of the club’s narcotic-laced wines at his foe. One bottle in particular shattered across the Norscan’s left cheek, shredding the skin around his mouth.

Yet this only made the Norscan more volatile, prompting him to wrap his hands around the Warrior Priest’s throat and tighten his grasp, something which grew even worse as one of the Norscan’s hands transformed into a promethean-like pincer!

Conrad gasped for air but the Norscan provided him with none of it, clenching tighter with one fully-transformed pincer while his other let go and transformed further into a stone substance which he proceeded to repeatedly bludgeon the warrior priest in the face with.

The Norscan’s attacks were vicious, knocking Conrad down and keeping him there despite all attempts to withstand the Norseman’s savagery as the Norscan never slowed the pace of his advances. Conrad could feel his eyes beginning to dim. In seconds he would fall unconscious, in minutes he would be dead. There was no light, no hope to cling onto.

Then, just all seemed lost and death’s vigil drew imminently, a miracle struck. A flicker in the corner of his right eye for just when all seemed lost, a trinket carved in the shape of an anvil that was hanging from his right shoulderpad began to glow as if it were bathed in campfire. The Hammer of Sigmar trusted in his instincts and tore the glowing trinket from its chain before pressing it against the Norscan’s exposed chest. The trinket made contact and set itself ablaze.

Drenok wailed in misery as the tiny object seared its purifying imprint onto his skin, forcing him to step back and offer the warrior priest a chance to stand. Conrad took this opportunity, jabbing his left fist into Drenok’s torso before connecting with a right hook, all while directing Johanssen onto the central dance floor. Then, Gottschalk connected another punch in the chest before following with a strategic jab at Drenok’s throat before finally shoving the Norscan off his feet with an uppercut to his chin. The Norscan landed flat on his rear before noticing where he had landed…directly beneath one of the dance floor’s chandeliers. Without any chance at escaping Conrad grabbed the base of the chandelier and tugged it off its pulley-mechanism, forcing the sizeable cone of glittering crystals, candles and gemstones to descend and impale the Marauder Champion through his stomach, finally killing him.

______________________________________________________________________________

With the Norscan vanquished the warrior priest resumed his mission, taking up a running charge toward the entrance to the drawing room. Klausner’s sycophants had attempted to board the door up while the brawl was going on in the next room but alas, the Warrior Priest smashed through them with ease and dealt with Klausner’s minions.

Having dealt with them the warrior priest approached Klausner, reciting his previous statement that she wad responsible for a multitude of crimes and therefore deserved only the death penalty when Klausner made a last ditch plea to defend herself.

“Wait! Don’t you see? There is so much more to this than just you or I!” Klausner cried as the warrior priest slowly marched toward her, his hammer tightly gripped between his hands.

“The sentence for your crimes is death.” Conrad stated coldly.

“Maybe so. However, can you not feel it? In the air all around you. My master has returned from her realm and he has such plans for us all. I have contacts… others with similar persuasions to I from here to Kislev… others who remain undiscovered by the likes of you. What good would killing me do when it comes at the cost of such precious information? No, take me instead. Arrest me and perhaps I will impart some of my many secrets to you in time if I deem that you are treating me well enough of course… Who knows? Perhaps my secrets could help you turn the tide of the war?” Anetta van Klausner attempted to bargain.

….

• Love React: “No compromise. You die now.” Conrad repeated as he swung his hammer overhead and brought it crashing down on the Aesthete’s head, cracking it open. Following this he went on to slay any other associates of the Aesthetes he could lay his eyes upon.

With Klausner dead and her most prominent followers defeated, Conrad Gottschalk gave a signal for Albertus Cobbius to come in and help him in arresting every remaining drunken party guest, living or undead. They proceeded to then march these people along the streets and canals of the Suiddock until finally they came across a functioning Temple of Manann capable of holding that many prisoners.

Cobbius and Gottschalk went on to part ways from here on. Gottschalk mounted his steed and set off back to Altdorf, back to the reconstruction of his home city and toward his next adventure. Meanwhile Cobbius returned to his orphanage, safe in the knowledge that none of the youths he cared for would ever fall to the manipulations of the Aesthetes again.

….

• Wow React: Conrad decided Klausner’s interjections may have some merit and thus decided to arrest her and her cronies in addition to the intoxicated party guests. He met up with Cobbius and together they attempted to escort the long crowd of socialites back to the nearest sanctuary of justice available to them.

Nonetheless, escorting such a large number of criminals inevitably became difficult as the moment one of the two lifted their eye from a certain criminal to monitor another, there was a chance the former would attempt to escape.

Eventually, Conrad and Albertus reached their nearest Temple of Manann and handed their arrested victims in to be interrogated. Klausner was still among them as were most of her cronies fortunately. However, on the way here a number of criminals had escaped the watchful eye of the two would-be law enforcers, particularly the vampires thanks to their silent and swift nature. Mundvard the Cruel and Alicia von Unterwald were among the list of prisoners that had managed to slink off into the shadows.

….

• Sad React: Conrad decided to arrest the Slaanesh worshipper and thus proceeded to arrest all remaining members of the Aesthetes as well as their guests thanks to the help of Albertus Cobbius.

The two led the long train of chaos cultists, criminals and intoxicated customers back to the nearest Temple of Manann where they hoped to find some law-abiding allies and fortuitously, they managed to do so without losing too many prisoners to the many shadowy sideroads, streams and tunnels along the way.

By the time the duo reached the Temple of Manann which was protected by a group of men wearing tunics denoting the symbol of the sea god and wielding a combination of pistols, bucklers and cutlasses, the train of people that arrived still included the likes of Klausner, her associates and the vampires as well as the majority of her other guests.

Cobbius and Gottschalk handed the imprisonment of the criminals over to the temple’s guards and turned to return to their normal lives when suddenly, a pistol went off.

Gottschalk fell dead, having been shot in the back of his head. Cobbius turned and ran in an effort to get away only for another guard to step out from the shadows from the direction in which they’d just come and stab his cuttlass through Cobbius’ chest.

With the warrior priest and the orphanage patron both dead, one of the guards sporting an eye-patch and a moustache walked over to Anetta van Klausner and proceeded to untie the ropes around her wrists.

“Ah, Edvard, so glad you came on such short notice.” Klausner praised.

“You don’t gain renown as a credible mercenary force without a strong sense of punctuality. Now on the note of payment… I see two targets dead, so that will be twice the payment you first offered.” demanded Edvard van der Kraal, leader of the Marienburg-based mercenary group Manann’s Blades.

“Don’t you think you’re pushing things a tad?” Klausner replied.

“Just be happy I am not charging you for all the people we had to kill in there.” Edvard replied as he pointed at the temple. “Fortunately for you we don’t seek additional payment for taking care of witnesses.”

“Oh alright then, a deal is a deal. A pleasure doing business with you!” Klausner concluded. The Blades went on to clear the mess while the Aesthetes and their high-society guests returned to their hideout, all looking forward to a nice sip of wine.