Nemesister-dk

Elizabeth was troubled by both her mind and her wounds, as she slowly took off the Nomex suit and placed the mask carefully beside her. The empty eyes stared back at her from the mask, and for a moment they seemed to be questioning her from inside her own mind. "Who are you? A Dark Knight? A widow? A murderer?" She shook her head as in denial, and quickly looked away from the mask. "I´m neither. I´m just a wounded cripple now", she thought to herself, as she started taking off the tech-prostetic, which made her able to walk. She had hoped she could sneak in unnoticed, but the sound of a door being opned ruined her chances. She brace

The Beginning To tell the tale of the third coming of Archeon, and thereby also the third reincarnation of Sigmar, we must reach deep into the Empire. Into the city of Altdorf, where a young woman was kneeling before a statue of her deity. "Hear me, oh Sigmar, hear the words of a mere initiate, wanting only to serve Ye. To banquish the evil, that took her father. I pray for the weak and the ill. I pray for those gone to the home of the brave, those protected now only by Morr. I pray for my father, for my family. Sigmar, protect my mother, as I serve you in the mortal realm. Keep her safe... and grant me the strength to be a righteous priest

Elizabeth was troubled by both her mind and her wounds, as she slowly took off the Nomex suit and placed the mask carefully beside her. The empty eyes stared back at her from the mask, and for a moment they seemed to be questioning her from inside her own mind. "Who are you? A Dark Knight? A widow? A murderer?" She shook her head as in denial, and quickly looked away from the mask. "I´m neither. I´m just a wounded cripple now", she thought to herself, as she started taking off the tech-prostetic, which made her able to walk. She had hoped she could sneak in unnoticed, but the sound of a door being opned ruined her chances. She brace

The lightning struck the tall and glorius church tower as a punishment from above. Inside the church was a graveyard-like battlefield. All over the beautiful building corpses and blood covered the holy sanctuary, which was no longer a place of God. The sound of thunder and a young girls sobbing were the only sounds heard miles around the Church of the Martyred Saint. It was as if she had been left by God and mankind. Alone with her fate – the sole survivor of the battle. Her head hung low over the body of Sister Sainclaire. Only inches behind her lay the bodies of Sister Vernon and Sister Ivory. The Pact of the Four had been broken. Deat