Editing Vlad von Carstein (section)

=== Tales of Vlad === 

==== Franz's bad day ====
Emperor Karl Franz was having a bad day. Middenheim so recently brought back into the fold of the empire still grumbled, albeit now only when they thought his spies weren't looking. Rumors of Chaos stirring in the North were confirmed as valid from Karl's most noble allies in Kislev, Vlad Von Carstein the Tactical Genius of Sylvania had returned and now; it was time for his absolutely loathed weekly psychiatric appointment.

"It's just insane!" Bellowed Franz to his psychologist as he went on about the stresses of being Emperor of a empire constantly under threat. "I mean, the orcs were right there! Why did Marienburg attack us? I mean sure we would have to bring Marienburg into the fold eventually anyway, but what good is your independence when the orcs are literally on your door step!".

His psychologist was unusually quiet, ordinarily by this time he'd be telling Franz about the wonderful job he is doing as Emperor and how all of the empires lands would've been butchered by one foe or another if it weren't for him. While a benefit to his ego it hardly lowered Karls stress. Nevertheless Franz took the silence as indication to keep going.

"Oh and Thogrim contacted me, he broke our alliance. For no reason! Oh hey nevermind this ancient pact from before our Empire was even founded and forget the symbol of eternal friendship we gave you. We're done, don't wanna be around you anymore. Nope. I mean isn't Grimgor ironhide enough of a uniting force to demonstrate the need of our alliance?" 

It was at this point when his psychologist still hadn't responded that Franz began to grow suspicious. He looked and saw that his psychologist had suddenly been replaced with a full 20 stack of units, causing Franz to yell 

"VLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!"

==== Volkmar's fall ====
The Battle was nearly over. All around him, Vlad's puppets crumble. "FOR THE EMPEROR!" Volkmar the Grim cries, as he brings his mighty Warhammer down upon a crypt ghoul, spraying bloody viscera in all directions. With Sigmar's guidance, the Grand Theogonist thought, today would ring the final death knell for the wretched Von Carstein line. Through the din of battle, barely in his peripheral vision, Volkmar notices a pebble move, and a branch fall. Then, the soft sound of a moan is carried across his ears. Pausing for a moment to contemplate this happenstance, when all of the sudden, the shrieks of the Grand Theogonist's men breaks the air. "No. This is not possible!", he Roared. Volkmar jerked his head up, and gazing around him he saw that his victory had been denied. Hordes of tens of thousands of zombies poured down the slopes of the valley where he had been fighting. All the Grand Theogonist could get out in his rage before being swallowed by the rotting wave was, "VLAAAAAAAAAAAD!"

==== Mannfred gets reminded who's the boss ====

The high tower's balcony afforded Mannfred a view far beyond the walls of Castle Drakenhof, across the newly created plains and into the mist-shrouded forests beyond. In the courtyard below, his undead armies waited silently for their master's orders, looking none the worse for the hasty forced march he'd imposed. That was the advantage of the tireless dead and no sooner had they arrived, he had them clear out and prepare the forest surrounding the castle to grant him forewarning of the enemy approach.

And this was neither petty necromancer nor thin-blooded whelp who marched against him. It seemed that whilst the stirring of Shyish had enabled his awakening, it had also awakened his challenger, a particularly powerful vampire count, so his mortal sources told him. And this opponent was cunning, taking advantage of his conflict with the Templehof weaklings to cross his borders.

No matter, he thought, idly skimming a finger over the cover of the Liber Necromonica. The unholy pages had granted him the plethora of devastating magical traps he'd laid scattered around the new clearings, from the Black Pyramid itself. A sinister smile spread across his face, as he imagined his rival’s army torn to shreds before even reaching the walls, and as he begged for his life at Mannfred’s feet he would-

Movement caught his eyes at the main gate, and the colourless orbs widened as the towering doors shook with a muffled boom. Far below, two figures dressed in ornate vampire armour struck the gate again as a host of zombies and skeletons advanced. Fell bats and snarling vargheists circled overhead, and a flash of crimson armour betrayed a squadron of Blood Knights at the rear.

Mortar cracked as he slammed his fist against the balcony wall. Impossible! How did they get past his wards and traps? Only an unparalleled practitioner of the dark arts could overco-

He froze, supernatural eyesight giving him a clear view of the lead vampire as it returned his gaze. It was unmistakeable: the sword, the ring, the wrathful eyes, the face of his sire. A terrible roar tore itself from his throat.

“VLAAAAAAAAAD!”