I'm re-blogging this from one of my other blogs, with includes more theoretical or speculative stuff than my 'straightforward' gaming activity usually included here.
It's the first part of a short
story, set in the Warhammer world, dealing with some speculations about
the relationship between official and more underground history, and may
be of some interest to the Oldhammer crowd.
The College of Speculative Antiquarians: The Story of Otto Kleinhund, Part the First:
Otto Kleinhund sniffed the air issuing from the trapdoor.
"You say no-one has been down here for more than 20
years? I would believe it, Master Wilhelm." He took a torch from the
massive slab of a man to his right, and began to descend the rickety
ladder, nearly setting his straggly beard aflame as he tried to hold the
torch, while gathering his ornate robes to avoid tripping on the
staircase, whose side-rail he was also attempting to grip.
"Perhaps, Kleinhund, you should drop a torch down
first?" suggested the aged Master of the College of Speculative
Antiquarians, a lesser-known cousin of the Guild of Historians.
"I would, Master, but the steps are made of wood and
there may be parchments in the room," explained Kleinhund, after a
"Ah, I see, might need to fight them off, you mean? Good thinking," replied Master Wilhelm.
Kleinhund stared at him. "Parchments?" he asked.
"What? Parchments? Sorry, I thought you said trolls.
Anyway... carry on." Having grown bored, Master Wilhelm wandered away,
back towards the better-lit corridors of the ancient and crumbling
College. He beckoned the large man who'd provided Kleinhund with his
torch. "Come, Dorothy, there's a wardrobe I want you to move. I think it
has a witch in it."
Kleinhund stared at the two backs slowly receding down
the corridor. "Well, this is it, my old son," he said to himself, "you
knew you'd be on your own in the end. When you come out you'll either be
a hero to historians everywhere, or a laughing stock to any man who can
write his own name." A horrid thought struck him, causing another
pause. "Assuming you do come up that is. Here goes..." and he rattled
down the rest of the ladder, into the musty dark.