It's no bad thing that Warhammer Fantasy Battles is back, in congealed and collated post-facto final form, a sort of "best of" the rules for the original game that so far seems to draw on third, seventh and a little bit of eighth edition (you can have a little bit of eighth, as a treat).
It's also no bad thing that the Tomb Kings (and Bretonnians, I suppose) are back in production. Eighth edition Warhammer had the misfortune to appear during a time of murderous austerity, and a public servant like what I was at the time couldn't spring for a shiny new Necrosphinx no matter how pretty the figure was.
But my very favourite thing about The Old World is that I don't have to come along on Mister Workshop's Wild Ride if I don't want to. The studio has decided that the Vampire Counts are a done deal, with Mannfred left for dead at Hel Fenn... and that's when my own personal Vampire Lord's unlife starts to get interesting. There's a convenient interregnum between the death and resurrection of Mannfred von Carstein in which a lot of my actual battles have taken place. For that story, skip to the end. For talk about the miniature, stick around...
There have been three Lords Ruthven, over the years. The first Lord Ruthven was the other Mordheim Vampire - the one with the energetically flapping cloak that looked fantastic but was a bit of a bugger to rank up. My original figure was placed so far forward on his base that it took a substantial chunk of pewter flash in the back to keep him upright at all. In these latter days, of course, I've been a clever clogs and (re)built my Skeleton command groups so they make room for him.
I say "original" because he went missing at some point, and this one was scored in a Facebook trade to fill in. The first one had a less rough paint job on the face (it's taken me so many goes to get the skin tone "right" and it's still darker than my other vampires), and a purple lining on the cloak, and crucially still had his delicate little rapier. This one is about to shout "BAT!!" and take to the heavens, I think.
The second Lord Ruthven was sourced during seventh edition Warhammer, when Vampire Lords were suddenly allowed to wear armour and cast spells, and when I wanted a figure a bit more in keeping with my puff and slash Skeletons. The Warhammer Quest Imperial Noble was pressed into service, along with a shield from the old Rutger, General of the Empire figure, that matched the Maltese cross icon I'd used across the army so far.
I tell you, this guy was the epitome of cool when I was in my twenties. The ringlets, the Lemmy 'tache, the eyepatch... although that wasn't there at the start. I added that after a game with my old mate Awesome Mike and his Dwarfs - at one point a Dwarf Lord got into a scrap with Ruthven and, I think, landed a Killing Blow with a rune axe. That feels like the sort of thing that's going to leave a mark even on a Vampire.
The third Lord Ruthven was the rest of that Rutger figure, with an ambitiously converted Winged Nightmare made from Karl Franz's griffon and a poorly sculpted set of hair and moustache extensions. He did not make it back from the army's stay in a shed somewhere on the Channel Islands between 2008 and 2012, and honestly? I can't say that's a bad thing.
We have answered "what is Lord Ruthven" - now we turn to "who is Lord Ruthven?"
Our story begins in Mordheim; blighted, blackened and blasted Mordheim that spanned the River Stir and smouldered with sorcery and sin. It concerns a dying man, and who he was is of no import compared to what he would become. His name was Laibach Ruthven; he was a captain of arms and a master of hounds; by these means and that he came to serve the Count of Sylvania, and with a wound in the throat and a drop of blood his life and his allegiance were bought.
Duellist, huntsman, leader of things who were once men and men who are on the road to ruin in their turn. He served, where others schemed and bickered; he endured, where others were consumed; he rose, where others fell.
When war broke out in earnest, he fought in the vanguard of his master Vlad von Carstein, and as Vlad’s legacy crumbled a captain seized his moment and claimed his prize. It was as captain-general to the widowed Countess of Templehof that our man drew steel against the Dwarfs of Karak Cymru as they threw down the Castle walls; it was as lover of Emmanuelle von Carstein that his heart and his oaths were broken.
Though history does not record it, Laibach Ruthven fought at Hel Fenn, as equerry to Adolphus Krieger, and survived the debacle, fleeing through the Dwarf lines and into the west, out of history and into obscurity and exile.
Some say it’s to the Border Princes that he made his way, to the hills of Geistenmund, where he learned black magics at the knee of a Strigany queen. Others to Tilea, where he charmed and hunted the under- and over-classes of Verezzo for a mortal lifetime and a half, taking the Contessa Margarita di Mara as his consort in blood. Others whisper that he took to Sartosa and the sea, and as captain of the Maiden’s Downfall ravaged the coasts of Ulthuan for a hundred years, scuttling his own ship off the coast of Albion when the High Elves brought him to bay.
Vampires live long lives, and perhaps all the tales are true. It is whispered that the Countess Margarita took up with a Master Necromancer, perhaps that same one who followed Ruthven in the streets of Mordheim, and together they travelled to Albion to raise their lord and master from his watery grave.
Here is what is known. When Mannfred returned, and issued the call to protect the land of the von Carsteins, Laibach Ruthven answered him in battle, riding out against his former liege. Though Mannfred’s army was held to a standstill, Ruthven himself was forced to bend the knee. Thus, as the Storm of Chaos broke upon the Empire, Ruthven was sent forth to meet it as Lord Protector of the Grand County of Sylvania: meet it, or die trying.
Lord Ruthven and his coterie escaped the disaster at Isca Fields, in which mercenaries from Tilea and the royal court of Bretonnia united to return Mannfred von Carstein to an untimely grave. The Carstein Ring, object of Mannfred’s grand design, was never found. Perhaps, somewhere, Lord Ruthven lives still: returned to Templehof to reign, licking his wounds in the Vaults of Tilea, or taken once more to the high seas?
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