Wolfram Hertwig was the Elector Count of Ostermark. He was a fussy man, renowned for his methodical approach to warfare. He was best known for a battle against invading greenskins as an inexperienced young commander, during which time the Count's personal pride drove away the experienced Grand Master of the Templars of the Everlasting Light from his ranks, leading to his forces suffering tremendously at the hands of the enemy army due to his inept skills as a commander. Ever since then, Hertwig's Folly is a cautionary tale for those whos pride blinds them from their better judgement.
Although not technically part of the Alderfen garrison, Count Hertwig was on a tour of inspection when the breach occurred. He thus took command of the battle, until his death at the hands of Festak Krann. Ordinarily Count Hertwig would have fought from the saddle of his war griffon, Bloodfeather, but the beast had succumbed to plague two days earlier.[1a]
In the ensuing battle against the forces of Chaos, Hertwig fought as valiantly as any man during the first assault, and had been dragged away by his bodyguard when defeat had loomed. The Elector Count then seized command of the first reinforcements to reach him and, with tears of sorrow still staining his cheeks, sought vengeance for the slain. Hertwig knew that his line of Swordsmen and Halberdiers was too thin to hold, he knew they would be overwhelmed, but he didn't care. If the End Times were truly upon the world, as the doomsayers told, then Hertwig was determined to pass into history spitting defiance with a sword in his hand.
Thus, as the horde of Chaos reached the base of the hill, Wolfram Herwig raised his Runefang high and his men responded. When he shouted the name of Sigmar, a thousand voices bellowed the god's name. When he shouted for Ulric, the Middenlanders roared in reply. Then Hertwig lowered his Runefang, and the men of the Empire swept from the hilltop, into the maelstrom of death.
Hertwig's momentum soon carried him deep into the enemy ranks, so deep that only one band of Middenlanders had been able to keep pace with him. Dead and dying Chaos Warriors lay thick around the Elector Count, for even their hell-forged plate could not resist a legendary Runefang's enchanted blade. A short way from where Hertwig fought, a brutish and lumpen figure marked the Elector's progress with interest. This was Festak Krann, and through Nurgle's favour and his own prowess, he commanded this portion of the Northlander horde. In Hertwig he saw a worthy foe, one whose death would bring glory to his slayer.
Surrounded as he was by the din of battle, the first Hertwig knew of Krann's approach was when the warlord's rust pitted axe swept aside the two Middenlanders fighting to his front. Krann's axe came about again, too fast to parry, and Hertwig screamed in agony as the heavy blade hacked through his armour and deep into his shoulder. Ignoring the pain from his crippled arm, Hertwig cut at his assailant, but the vision was blurring and the blow did nothing more than slice a splinter of wood from the axe's haft. As Krann's axe came down once more, Hertwig gathered the last of his strength and threw his weight behind one final thrust. The last sound the Elector Count heard was Krann's bellow of surprise as the Runefang's blade slid deep into the brute's belly. Hertwig's lips had time to twitch into a brief smile before Krann's rusted axe split his skull. His foe roared with laughter as Hertwig's body fell to the ground, its lifeless hands leaving the sword buried in the warlord's gut. Krann believed the wound would heal as any other, only to slowly die as the wound failed to regenerate. Hertwig's Runefang was known as the Troll Cleaver, and its enchantments thwarted the Northman's attempts to heal as easily as it did to the creatures of its namesake...