Please note that whilst this post is heavily inspired by Marienburg: Sold Down the River, there is also a very liberal dose of reformation history to bring this topic in line with both my campaign, and my preferred aspects of Warhammer history. Take it with a grain of salt, but you might just enjoy the intrigues it kicks up. Also, be advised that if you haven't read The Legend of Sigmar trilogy by Graham NcNeill, there will be slight spoilers...
One of the most interesting things about Marienburg is perhaps its succession of owners - each of which has left a significant stamp on the landscape and the history of the city. Perhaps the most important stamp left, and yet, the most widely forgotten, was that of its true founder - King Marbad of the Endel Tribe. King Marbad is said to have drifted through the swamps of the Old World before the coming of Sigmar, and, upon hearing the voice of Olovold - God of the River Delta - he settled his people in what was the become Marienburg.
Of coarse, in the style of conquerors and history revisionists, this figure was latter changed to Count Marius of the Jutones, a change that would have left anyone who saw the founding of Marienburg rolling in their watery, swamp-laden graves.
Despite who was attributed to the vision, everyone agrees that it was from Olovold that the message was sent for the peoples of the land to settle where Marienburg now stands. And on the site where the first sacrifice in thanks to Olovold was made, a church was built - the Church of Saint Olovold.
"Saint?" you ask. Indeed, for the roots of revision are deep in Marienburg, and in the year 1010 IC, the Cult of Manaan who had been steadily gaining in favour was able to make the decree that Olovold, beloved God of the Delta and Crowner of the Barons of Marienburg, was little more than a misremembered Saint. The Cultists of Manaan stole Olovold's prestige and favour with the common folk, and his Church fell to decline, as the walls of the Cathedral of Manaan were gilded.
But that does not mean Olovold remains unremembered - or even unworshipped. Sister Hilaria om Klimt of the Cult of Manaan stands as the caretaker of the mouldering church, with its caving-in roof and vine-strewn floors. From the outside, it is impossible to believe it should remain standing - tradition be damned! But within, the church breathes an air of life and vitality that is beyond description.
Hilaria preaches her dreams of Olovold to her minor congregation of tramps and drunks who have wandered in out of the cold. She feeds them, clothes them, and gives them safe and dry patches of the church floor to sleep on. They love her, if at least they don't believe her. And yet, there are many who do...
Every few months, the church receives a massive donation from a newly deceased Marienburger's Will - a sum that seems far larger than the wealth of the townsman in life. Strange ships carrying sailors with odd languages or no language at all pull up to the docks of Suiddock and let out men who stay in the church to pray for days, or even weeks, to then leave suddenly and never return. And all over the city, at random times a very select few will have a dream of a seaweed shrouded man come crawling from the depths of the canals bringing with him kind and glorious dreams.
Saint Olovold isn't dead. No. He is sleeping, and Hilaria om Klimt is waiting to wake him.
One of the most interesting things about Marienburg is perhaps its succession of owners - each of which has left a significant stamp on the landscape and the history of the city. Perhaps the most important stamp left, and yet, the most widely forgotten, was that of its true founder - King Marbad of the Endel Tribe. King Marbad is said to have drifted through the swamps of the Old World before the coming of Sigmar, and, upon hearing the voice of Olovold - God of the River Delta - he settled his people in what was the become Marienburg.
Of coarse, in the style of conquerors and history revisionists, this figure was latter changed to Count Marius of the Jutones, a change that would have left anyone who saw the founding of Marienburg rolling in their watery, swamp-laden graves.
Despite who was attributed to the vision, everyone agrees that it was from Olovold that the message was sent for the peoples of the land to settle where Marienburg now stands. And on the site where the first sacrifice in thanks to Olovold was made, a church was built - the Church of Saint Olovold.
"Saint?" you ask. Indeed, for the roots of revision are deep in Marienburg, and in the year 1010 IC, the Cult of Manaan who had been steadily gaining in favour was able to make the decree that Olovold, beloved God of the Delta and Crowner of the Barons of Marienburg, was little more than a misremembered Saint. The Cultists of Manaan stole Olovold's prestige and favour with the common folk, and his Church fell to decline, as the walls of the Cathedral of Manaan were gilded.
But that does not mean Olovold remains unremembered - or even unworshipped. Sister Hilaria om Klimt of the Cult of Manaan stands as the caretaker of the mouldering church, with its caving-in roof and vine-strewn floors. From the outside, it is impossible to believe it should remain standing - tradition be damned! But within, the church breathes an air of life and vitality that is beyond description.
Hilaria preaches her dreams of Olovold to her minor congregation of tramps and drunks who have wandered in out of the cold. She feeds them, clothes them, and gives them safe and dry patches of the church floor to sleep on. They love her, if at least they don't believe her. And yet, there are many who do...
Every few months, the church receives a massive donation from a newly deceased Marienburger's Will - a sum that seems far larger than the wealth of the townsman in life. Strange ships carrying sailors with odd languages or no language at all pull up to the docks of Suiddock and let out men who stay in the church to pray for days, or even weeks, to then leave suddenly and never return. And all over the city, at random times a very select few will have a dream of a seaweed shrouded man come crawling from the depths of the canals bringing with him kind and glorious dreams.
Saint Olovold isn't dead. No. He is sleeping, and Hilaria om Klimt is waiting to wake him.
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