Andric Vogel's Journal Vol III
The City of Middenhiem, 2522 YoE, Wellentag, 28th day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Oldric Mannhiem came to us at the inn, bearing news of a reward for the destruction of the greenskin menace we saw the depredations of on our way north from Untergarde. We had dealings with a legalist, Otto Vanderhoot, who told us of a substantial reward for the destruction of the menace and return of certain missing documents pertaining to the merchant's guild of Delberz, called the Association of Tradesmen. Nicodemus also told us that a reward would be had from the City as well, should we take on the task.
For my part, I believe accomplishing Sigmar's will in killing greenskins should be sufficient to any Man of the Empire's reward, but I recognize the reality of the imperfect world we live in and the weakness of the mortal soul in the face of that reality. If worldly rewards are necessary to motivate these friends of mine to do their duty to Sigmar and the Empire, all the better that those rewards exist. The contract included an advance and whatever goods we recover. The advance was quickly spent on supplies.
In a moment of weakness I mocked Luther for purchasing a cart and mule, but on reflection I think it a sound idea if we can keep the mule alive, because if one of us is sore wounded, it will be a long walk at peril to the life of the wounded party.
We plan to travel to the area of the attack, where we hope that Nicodemus or Luther can pick up the trail of the greenskins. Rudiger looked thrilled as we spoke of our reasons for carrying out this plan, but as I listed the good and true reasons of our lord Sigmar, Rudiger said, "I was with you right up until the whole 'Its the good thing, and right, to do'bit.' " I prefer Throngor's attitude, he is excited, as all his people are at the prospect of slaying the racial bearers of the greatest of his people's grudges.
Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Aubentag, 29th Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
A long day spent walking. Diebold gave us our marching orders, and rides his great stallion in the lead of our group behind the scouting of Luther and Rudiger.
The wonder and might of Sigmar is shown to me this night as I am surrounded by his smallest works in the bustling activity of Men around me as I write! On the road north each of the great coaching Inns that were approximately a day's ride from one another on the road were destroyed, and some were razed to the ground, as this one was. Just a few weeks and already The Empire recovers! Oldric is speaking to the merchants just come from the south, perhaps they will tell us something of value concerning the state of the road south of here. I have been amongst the laborers, telling them The Word of Sigmar and exhorting them to continue to work for the good of the Empire and themselves. I bought more rations for us.
Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Marktag, 30th Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Another long day spent walking south, Tonight we stay in the ruins of a coaching inn. This one still awaits the hand of Sigmar. Luther has supplemented our rations with deer he culled from the wood on the march.
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Backertag, the 31st Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Camped in the woods tonight. We came across the depredations of the greenskins today, locating the remains of the small trader caravan the merchant's told Oldric about. Luther scouted the area and he and Nicodemus followed some Giant wolf tracks west of the road into the Drakwald. We followed these trails all day. Cold camp tonight.
I have been unconcsious and near death for some time, and have missed a few entries in my journal, but now the itching of these fleas disturb my rest, even as the pain of my wounded arm reminds me of the strength of Sigmar's foes and the will necessary to overcome them. It is only through Sigmar's Will that I am able to write even now, for were it not for my friends and His guidance, I should be dead, struck down by a goblin arrow. I shall write now of what happened these last days:
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Bezahltag, the 32nd Day of Pflugzeit:
On Wellentag I woke with my head resting upon a Dwarfen Mile- Marker. I then noticed the cut in the hillside was not natural and that we had slept on an ancient road. Oldric recalled tales of Dwarfen highways and hillforts that crossed what is now Sigmar's Empire in the days of their ascendance and feared Goblins to have made a base of one of the hill forts. Sure enough, by midmorning Luther and Rudiger reported an abandoned cart and goblins loitering near an opening in a hill ahead.
Concerned that a frontal assault would fail, Throngor told us that every Dwarfhold has a front and a back door, one of which is always concealed. Luther and Rudiger scouted further and uncovered what turned out to be a hidden entrance. We snuck in through that hidden way.
Despite the warnings of a clicking we noted on the ladder leading into the hill, Throngor fell through a cunningly devised trap, injuring himself, but not too severely to continue on. Luckily, the area we gained access to was not occupied by the greenskin scum and the noise of his fall went unnoticed. Inside that earthen defense point we found a trap leading further into the hill, and Rudiger lead the way down. Even the mighty workings of the Dwarfs cannot stay the hand of time indefinately, and part of the shaft had collapsed, filling what I am sure was another pit trap below the base of the ladder. Rudiger heard the heavy sound of many creatures snoring beyond the secret door leading from that dark shaft.
Rudiger snuck within the chamber beyond and we all followed as quietly as we could, in the dim light of the guttering torch I saw him take up a position ready to cut the great beast of an Orc's throat. This large specimen of a Black Orc was seated in an old throne culled from some noble's estate no doubt, snoring like thunder. One of us made a noise and the Chief woke just as Luther entered the chamber. Rudiger struck as the Orc stirred, but his blow was turned ever so slightly by the armor girding that great beast's throat and his dagger lodged in the foul greenskin's throat as it roared to its feet. A raging combat ensued, wherin mighty Diebold slew one orc in a single blow, and Throngor smote the head from another with his axe. Rudiger aquitted himself well against that Orcish chief, and we were eventually able to take the head from his shoulders as well.
None of us was sorely wounded after that fierce fight, thank Sigmar, and we continued further into the fort after Oldric and Rudiger made an accounting of all the loot we were able to locate within the chieftan's chamber. I secured the chief's head to my belt, to better strike fear into the primitive minds of our foe.
Rudiger scouted ahead again. Sigmar truly has blessed us in many ways, and blessed Rudiger with an uncanny ability to see better than I or any other man I know in the dark. He reported that a portcullis sealed what appeared to be a prison room across a great chamber from the position we were in, and that a door leading east stood closed, its bar near at hand. He could not clearly see the far end of the chamber, as it was shrouded in darkness. Throughout that great room lay the spoils of several months' depredations of the Untergarde road.
Diebold told Rudiger to quietly bar the door and check the mechanisms of the portcullis to see if they could be jammed. The doughty Dwarf, Throngor, by dint of his race's ability to see better than men in the dark, made ready to rush to Rudiger's aid, should he need it. After Rudiger barred the door and was investigating the mechanisms of his second task, a party of foul little greenskins marched from the depths of the chamber towards that newly-barred door. Rudiger was trapped on the far side of the chamber, and Throngor threw an axe into the door we waited behind to alert the rest of us that a threat approached.
The fight that followed showed Sigmar's favor of us. Throngor bellowed his war-challenge and charged the small group of greenskins, slaying one immediately. Rudiger accounted for another and the rest of us charged forth into that great chamber. As the fight continued, I was able to steal a glance at the far end of that chamber, where squatted an evil idol to the greenskin's foul gods. Upon the top of this idol there appeared a goblin of surpassingly evil aspect, who's eyes glowed with green daemon-light!
As we vanquished that first small party of greenskins, more spewed forth from the far end of the chamber, marching from behind that great evil idol. Summoned, I am sure, by the mad caperings and gibbering of the goblin shaman.
Luther, with his father's longbow, fired a cloth-yard shaft at that foul creature. The arrow flew true, I say, but as it came within an arm's length of that darkling magician, it swept forward its foul staff and a shimmering green glow interposed itself between the arrow and its target, deflecting the arrow harmlessly away. Seeing this, I charged forward with Throngor at my heels, intent on reaching that foul scum. As we came nearer that beast others of his tribe tried to interpose themselves between us and the foul idol. As we tarried to strike them down, arrows fell amongst us from another Orc and still more Goblins at the foot of the idol.Nicodemus, Throngor, and Diebold were engines of destruction, blessed by the hand of Sigmar killing goblin after goblin even as lightning blasts of sickly green energy flicked out from the fell goblin's eyes and struck down upon Throngor. Throngor, that doughty soul, fought on, his beard singed and his wounds smoking.
I leapt into the cupped hand of the idol, its altar of sacrifice, and struck the goblin there down in the name of Sigmar. Sweet are the blessings of Sigmar, that such is the strength of the righteous in the face of The Empire's enemies.
Oldric, hard on my heels, despite taking an arrow through the leg, muttered an incantation. Immediately after, I heard a clattering and a wail of disappointment as the shaman dropped the staff of foul aspect he had used to stymie Luther's arrows. Quickly Oldric followed that success with shining dart after dart of light, harrowing the goblin shaman into climbing down from his roost. As he left our view, Oldric swept up the shaman's foul staff.
Diebold, Throngor, Nicodemus and the rest of us then won our way through the last of the goblins on the ground, and Throngor struck the limbs from the shaman as he tried to flee down the stair behind the altar.
A last goblin remained, firing down at us from the top of the idol. Quickly his bow was dropped as Oldric ensorcelled him as well. Panicked, that scum leapt to the foot of the idol and ran for the barred door. Luther struck him down with a goose-feathered shaft between the shoulder blades, dropping him in the center of the chamber.
I busied myself with binding Throngor's many wounds and drawing the arrow from Oldric's leg. As they took it in shifts to watch the stair which led deeper into the hill. Luther and the rest went to see what it was that lay behind the portcullis.
The Greenskins within, locked behind that great portcullis which was only openable from our side, held a blonde woman captive, a thin goblin arm wrapped about her neck and a dagger at her throat. She screamed for help as the filth that held her gibbered and ranted, gesturing at the portcullis. Another greenskin, out of view in one of the cells, could be heard slapping someone, who groaned repeatedly.
Oldric then left to see what was going on, making his way to the portcullis . As Diebold told Rudiger to open the door and Luther readied his bow, the first goblin shrieked in his foul tongue and severed the woman's throat to the bone. Red blood sprayed everywhere as Diebold rushed beneath the portcullis Rudiger was raising. The goblin, fearful of Luther and Diebold's swift justice, fled within the cell Luther had made out the noise coming from.
I ran to the cries for aid, too late.
We were all stunned to immobility as we all heard a thunderous shout of, "Tzeentch, Changer of Ways, protect your faithful servant!" Immediately after those words, a horrid keening was heard as well as the wet sounds of flesh parting and giving up its humours. The goblin that slew the woman was launched from the cell, trailing red, rope-like cords from several bony spikes struck through its flesh. Such was the force those evil tendrils struck with that the body of the greenskin shattered the stout door to the cell across from it. Mewling in pain, the goblin was then dragged back into the space between the cells before being shredded in a welter of black blood by those noisome quills.
Diebold, stoutest of us, looked in on a scene of horror, and even he stepped back in the face of the blood-drenched horror within.
With a crash the cell doorway and stones about it fell outward as the mutated horror within pushed and slammed its way through the narrow passage and into the jailor's quarters and our view.
Only a man whose soul had been given completely over to Chaos could ever show such horrid mutations, that or the carcass of a Daemon- possessed. The thing stood half again Oldric's height, and massed three men. On two stumpy legs did it heave its lumpy, distended caricature of a body about. Pink, ropy tentacles made from a material not unlike entrails whipped about its right side, while bony spines on tougher sinew projected from random points on its bodyand a massive clawed hand projected from a huge mass of bloody red muscle on its left. A grisly maw projected from its chest several yards, snapping a mouthful of row on row of serrated teeth. Most horrid of all was the sightless human head and flailing arms which dangled unused at its sides, showing that this spawn was once human and the blood-stench that it carried with it.
Diebold stepped back and shouted to Oldric to close the portcullis. Luther, Rudiger, Nicodemus and I were rooted to the spot, fear and terror warring with our faith in Sigmar to carry us through. Oldric threw the lever, and the portcullis slammed down just as that foul thing dragged itself to the opening. It shot tendrils at Diebold, who parried those ropy entrails away and struck back, cutting one of those pink entrails which wept foul icor.
Nicodemus recovered quickly, moving to the other side and striking at it as well as the Chaos-spawned thing tried to shatter the portcullis with its weight and mighty claws even as Luther recovered and tried to feather the thing. Luther's hands shook with justifiable fear, and he sent several shafts into the wood of the portcullis before sending at least one into that creature. Oldric again used his magick, causing the creature to loose its grip on the wood and metal of the portcullis and frustrating its desire to close with us.
Again and again the thing slammed home, even as Oldric set a desperate plan in motion. Rudiger was drawn from his fearful paralysis by Oldric shouting at him to open the barred door. Throngor, hearing the thunderous blows the beast sent into to the portcullis and our shouts, left off guarding the stair and rushed to help us.
As he did so, the spawn shattered the center of the portcullis.
Oldric shouted down the corridor in that accent of his, "Goblin filth, come join your Chief in Death"
With devastating final crash, the portcullis shattered. I prepared myself to die in Sigmar's name, the leather of my hammers slick in my sweaty hands.
As it heaved itself toward Luther, who was still tormenting it with arrows, Nicodemus and Diebold struck at the creature from the flanks. Nicodemus' desperate blow had scarce any effect, but the mighty blow that Diebold struck could scarce have been any thing but an act of Sigmar's own Will acting through the eye and arm of Diebold Konigsamen. Sigmar guided his hand in a blow more telling than any I have yet seen, slicing that thing's snapping maw clean through at the base, where it was thicker than a full-grown man's thigh. It collapsed in a welter of purple-red blood, spewing filth across the floor.
Only a bare few moments did we have to regroup, as we stood slack jawed in wonder at Diebold, who calmly whipped the ichor from his blade and focused on the next task at hand. Rudiger though, sensible one that he is, slammed the door closed and barred it again before Oldric's desperate attempt to get our twin enemies, Chaos and the Greenskins, to fight one another led the goblins to try to open the door.
Just as the bar slid home, a pounding and hammering could be heard from the other side of the door, as well as the howl of a wolf. Diebold pushed us into position, forming a gauntlet of weapons to any that made it through the door. Telling off Rudiger and Luther to loose arrows into the fray form a distance. Oldric took a position behind the door, ready to close it as soon as possible, to limit the number of the foe.
Diebold signalled and Oldric let the door open.
The first goblins through the door were massacred in short order, I took the heads of two off myself, each with terrible swings of my hammers.
As we reset our lines and prepared to face a new set of the foe, the door was thrown open by the giant wolf and its rider on the far side, who leapt through, only to be slain in short order themselves. Quick on their heels were three more goblins on wolfback, and they did their damnedest to drive through us.
In complication, a last group of goblins came from the stair at the far end of the chamber yet again, including several archers, who I would have sworn incapable of making such a long shot. I was laid low by an arrow in the arm, and fell into darkness, recalling no more I was told the remainder of the tale.
The last of the wolf riders fell quickly to the arms of my companions, and Nicodemus did what he could to bind my wounds, dragging me from that chamber of battle and into the bedding of one of the orcs, where I lay until they had hunted down the last of the goblins during that evening and Oldric recovered a healing draught and a salve to place on my wounds from the goods the goblins had pilferred from the caravans.
The stair led to a mining area that the goblins had used as their lair. Throngor tells me that there are good deposits of iron ore there. Oldric recovered several ledgers and legal documents in the jailor's rooms, including a dark book.
The Dwarf Hill-Fort, 2522 YoE, Konistag, the 33rd and Last Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Woke the morning of the 33rd, First Quaff, as the Dwarfs know it, with a brutal pain in my arm and a savage itching all over. Pain was good news, however, as it is Sigmar's sign I am still among the living, despite the horrors I have seen. Diebold and the rest make an inventory of the goods recovered even as they count the numbers of the slain goblins. In total there were four tens and four greenskins, seven of which were Orcs or Black Orcs in breed. Luther has skinned the giant wolves. Throngor has recovered the cart and repared the one we saw out front. It looks as if we shall be pulling it using manpower once we decide on what we wish to bring with us from here and I am sufficiently recovered.
We were taking coucil with one another regarding this very thing when Rudiger noted a discrepancy in the wall behind my place, propped up in a salvaged bed. A secret door was discovered which led to the armory and payroll of the old hill fort. An ingenious trap was protecting it, that we were unable to disarm. We used a table as a bridge and Rudiger recovered the payroll.
Within was a store of fine Dwarf weapons and a full suit of Dwarf-made plate mail armor, better than any suit of the same stuff made by the hand of man I have ever seen. Each of us claimed items and the payroll will be added to the shares we divide.
The Dwarf Hill-Fort, 2522 YoE, Angestag, the 1st Day of The Month of Sigmarzeit:
This, the first day of Sigmar's most holy month, is surely a good day for his humble servants. I woke this morning feeling well enough to move around some more, and the rest of my friends began loading the carts.
There was some consternation over what to do with the mine and the goods we could not transport at this time, with Oldric preferring that we cache the goods and sell the rights to the Dwarfs. Some suggested we try to go into business for ourselves.
We compromised and will get Throngor to contact some miners in Middenhiem and see if they would be willing to use some of the labor of the refugees from Untergarde to assist them in drawing the ore from the earth. Those supplies we cannot carry will be left for their use, cached here. In this way we hope to do Sigmar's will and assist the Empire in strengthening itself for the future. We shall leave tomorrow at dawn with what we can carry. The irony of my earlier mocking of Luther's purchase of the cart and mule is not lost on me, and I realize Sigmar has taught me humility in a painful fashion in order that I not forget the lesson.
Oldric has read much of Frau Schmidt's journal, which he recovered. He told me the essence of his reading, which I have paraphrased here:
Apparently, the creature of Chaos Diebold slew was, at one time, a legalist from Delberz who had been sent north to take up Otto Vanderhoot's job. Wolfgang of Delberz was a part of Frau Schmidt's husband's caravan, and carried letters placing him in charge of the legal positions of the Association on his arrival, dismissing Vanderhoot. When it looked as if the caravan would fall into the hands of the goblins, Wolfgang began encanting in a dark tongue. A purple and yellow gas erupted from his body as he toppled to the ground, solidifying in a horrible bird-like daemon which struck down the remainder of the guards and then tried for the goblins before dissipating into a gas and disappearing in turn.
When a huge Black Orc returned with a small goblin bearing a staff, they captured Frau Schmidt and carefully gathered up Wolfgang, returning them their goods, aside from their weapons. They then put them in the cells beneath, and ordered the Frau to care for Wolfgang, who they desired for some dark purpose. The Frau thought the Orcs, being greedy, thought they could control Wolfgang. Happily for the Frau, Wolfgang remained unconscious, though she frequently thought of strangling him, only the thought of the blades of the goblins keeping her from ending the threat he represented.
It is my belief, after consulting with Oldric, that this Wolfgang was a foul chaos sorcerer who failed in his casting of magick, and accidentally summonded a daemon of Tzeentch, which killed the rest of his caravan and then became unstable, leaving its physical state to enter Wolfgang's body. When the goblin tried to wake Wolfgang, he thought himself still trying to save himself at the road, and called on his Dark Lord of Change to save him, with the above-mentioned results.
Foul are the workings of Chaos, and dark are their purposes, thanks to all that is good for Our Lord and Saviour, Sigmar, The Light in The Dark.
We determined to tell all to the Watch and the Temple of Sigmar. As for Vanderhoot, we will retain the letter and its contents giving Wolfgang responsibility over the Assocaition and its interests. The less said openly about the threat of Chaos cults, the better.
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Festag, the 2nd Day of The Month of Sigmarzeit:
I ache to assist my companions, but find even the shortest walk too taxing, so instead I lay atop some of the goods, scratching at the fleas gained from sleeping in the bedding of the foul greenskins. The ancient road has made the forest just passable for our man-drawn cart, and we camp a spare few miles from the Untergarde Road.
The Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Wellentag, the 3rd Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit:
We made camp after nightfall tonight in the ruin of the old coachhouse. I fear I am a burden on my companions, and am trying to help when and as I may.
The Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Aubentag, the 4th Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit
Today we met a caravan that looked on us with distrust until we showed them the error of their ways. They were most impressed by the heads of the greenskins and we made good time when they kindly offered the use of one of their drays for the duration of our trip. In darkness again, we arrived at the coaching inn those stalwart souls have already set to rebuilding. Already the walls and roof are up. And tonight we sleep under the shelter of the roof. Oldric, despite the common man's distrust of his wizardly abilities, told the tale of our activities with such skill that I fear he missed his calling as a tale-teller. The laborer's were enraptured with the tale and shouted "Diebold and the seven!" when he finished telling the tale.
The City of Middenhiem, 2522 YoE, Marktag, the 5th Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit
We made our way through the throngs of people today, Diebold on his tall steed passing out coin to the needy. Vanderhoot was overcome like a woman when we showed him the heads, swooning and falling to the ground unconscious. Again Oldric told the tale, and again the crowd was pleased, and Vanderhoot, when wakened, paid our fee. He insisted on seeing Frau Schmidt's journal, which Oldric told him he would see only after Schutzmann had determined whether he should.
We continued on to the Headquarters of the Watch, where we were greeted with more pomp and certainly more pleasure by Commander Schutzmann. That stout man did reinforce our praises and had a scribe write the tale of our activities. He was free with rewarding us, and then had us come in to give as more private report. He had me remove the last few written pages of Frau Schmidt's journal and turn them over to the Temple. Which I will do.
Quite a throng waited outside to follow us back to the Happy Hearth and Silas Greentree's establishment.
Throngor left, only to return at sunset with a locksmith to open the payroll chest and make a key for us. He told me before settling in to pound drink after drink that plans are afoot to seek miners to work the ore deposit.
I have left my companions to their drinking as I am still weak from my wound and need rest.
Sigmar watch over them, they are good folk, and deserving of your sheltering arm.
Oldric Mannhiem came to us at the inn, bearing news of a reward for the destruction of the greenskin menace we saw the depredations of on our way north from Untergarde. We had dealings with a legalist, Otto Vanderhoot, who told us of a substantial reward for the destruction of the menace and return of certain missing documents pertaining to the merchant's guild of Delberz, called the Association of Tradesmen. Nicodemus also told us that a reward would be had from the City as well, should we take on the task.
For my part, I believe accomplishing Sigmar's will in killing greenskins should be sufficient to any Man of the Empire's reward, but I recognize the reality of the imperfect world we live in and the weakness of the mortal soul in the face of that reality. If worldly rewards are necessary to motivate these friends of mine to do their duty to Sigmar and the Empire, all the better that those rewards exist. The contract included an advance and whatever goods we recover. The advance was quickly spent on supplies.
In a moment of weakness I mocked Luther for purchasing a cart and mule, but on reflection I think it a sound idea if we can keep the mule alive, because if one of us is sore wounded, it will be a long walk at peril to the life of the wounded party.
We plan to travel to the area of the attack, where we hope that Nicodemus or Luther can pick up the trail of the greenskins. Rudiger looked thrilled as we spoke of our reasons for carrying out this plan, but as I listed the good and true reasons of our lord Sigmar, Rudiger said, "I was with you right up until the whole 'Its the good thing, and right, to do'bit.' " I prefer Throngor's attitude, he is excited, as all his people are at the prospect of slaying the racial bearers of the greatest of his people's grudges.
Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Aubentag, 29th Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
A long day spent walking. Diebold gave us our marching orders, and rides his great stallion in the lead of our group behind the scouting of Luther and Rudiger.
The wonder and might of Sigmar is shown to me this night as I am surrounded by his smallest works in the bustling activity of Men around me as I write! On the road north each of the great coaching Inns that were approximately a day's ride from one another on the road were destroyed, and some were razed to the ground, as this one was. Just a few weeks and already The Empire recovers! Oldric is speaking to the merchants just come from the south, perhaps they will tell us something of value concerning the state of the road south of here. I have been amongst the laborers, telling them The Word of Sigmar and exhorting them to continue to work for the good of the Empire and themselves. I bought more rations for us.
Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Marktag, 30th Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Another long day spent walking south, Tonight we stay in the ruins of a coaching inn. This one still awaits the hand of Sigmar. Luther has supplemented our rations with deer he culled from the wood on the march.
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Backertag, the 31st Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Camped in the woods tonight. We came across the depredations of the greenskins today, locating the remains of the small trader caravan the merchant's told Oldric about. Luther scouted the area and he and Nicodemus followed some Giant wolf tracks west of the road into the Drakwald. We followed these trails all day. Cold camp tonight.
I have been unconcsious and near death for some time, and have missed a few entries in my journal, but now the itching of these fleas disturb my rest, even as the pain of my wounded arm reminds me of the strength of Sigmar's foes and the will necessary to overcome them. It is only through Sigmar's Will that I am able to write even now, for were it not for my friends and His guidance, I should be dead, struck down by a goblin arrow. I shall write now of what happened these last days:
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Bezahltag, the 32nd Day of Pflugzeit:
On Wellentag I woke with my head resting upon a Dwarfen Mile- Marker. I then noticed the cut in the hillside was not natural and that we had slept on an ancient road. Oldric recalled tales of Dwarfen highways and hillforts that crossed what is now Sigmar's Empire in the days of their ascendance and feared Goblins to have made a base of one of the hill forts. Sure enough, by midmorning Luther and Rudiger reported an abandoned cart and goblins loitering near an opening in a hill ahead.
Concerned that a frontal assault would fail, Throngor told us that every Dwarfhold has a front and a back door, one of which is always concealed. Luther and Rudiger scouted further and uncovered what turned out to be a hidden entrance. We snuck in through that hidden way.
Despite the warnings of a clicking we noted on the ladder leading into the hill, Throngor fell through a cunningly devised trap, injuring himself, but not too severely to continue on. Luckily, the area we gained access to was not occupied by the greenskin scum and the noise of his fall went unnoticed. Inside that earthen defense point we found a trap leading further into the hill, and Rudiger lead the way down. Even the mighty workings of the Dwarfs cannot stay the hand of time indefinately, and part of the shaft had collapsed, filling what I am sure was another pit trap below the base of the ladder. Rudiger heard the heavy sound of many creatures snoring beyond the secret door leading from that dark shaft.
Rudiger snuck within the chamber beyond and we all followed as quietly as we could, in the dim light of the guttering torch I saw him take up a position ready to cut the great beast of an Orc's throat. This large specimen of a Black Orc was seated in an old throne culled from some noble's estate no doubt, snoring like thunder. One of us made a noise and the Chief woke just as Luther entered the chamber. Rudiger struck as the Orc stirred, but his blow was turned ever so slightly by the armor girding that great beast's throat and his dagger lodged in the foul greenskin's throat as it roared to its feet. A raging combat ensued, wherin mighty Diebold slew one orc in a single blow, and Throngor smote the head from another with his axe. Rudiger aquitted himself well against that Orcish chief, and we were eventually able to take the head from his shoulders as well.
None of us was sorely wounded after that fierce fight, thank Sigmar, and we continued further into the fort after Oldric and Rudiger made an accounting of all the loot we were able to locate within the chieftan's chamber. I secured the chief's head to my belt, to better strike fear into the primitive minds of our foe.
Rudiger scouted ahead again. Sigmar truly has blessed us in many ways, and blessed Rudiger with an uncanny ability to see better than I or any other man I know in the dark. He reported that a portcullis sealed what appeared to be a prison room across a great chamber from the position we were in, and that a door leading east stood closed, its bar near at hand. He could not clearly see the far end of the chamber, as it was shrouded in darkness. Throughout that great room lay the spoils of several months' depredations of the Untergarde road.
Diebold told Rudiger to quietly bar the door and check the mechanisms of the portcullis to see if they could be jammed. The doughty Dwarf, Throngor, by dint of his race's ability to see better than men in the dark, made ready to rush to Rudiger's aid, should he need it. After Rudiger barred the door and was investigating the mechanisms of his second task, a party of foul little greenskins marched from the depths of the chamber towards that newly-barred door. Rudiger was trapped on the far side of the chamber, and Throngor threw an axe into the door we waited behind to alert the rest of us that a threat approached.
The fight that followed showed Sigmar's favor of us. Throngor bellowed his war-challenge and charged the small group of greenskins, slaying one immediately. Rudiger accounted for another and the rest of us charged forth into that great chamber. As the fight continued, I was able to steal a glance at the far end of that chamber, where squatted an evil idol to the greenskin's foul gods. Upon the top of this idol there appeared a goblin of surpassingly evil aspect, who's eyes glowed with green daemon-light!
As we vanquished that first small party of greenskins, more spewed forth from the far end of the chamber, marching from behind that great evil idol. Summoned, I am sure, by the mad caperings and gibbering of the goblin shaman.
Luther, with his father's longbow, fired a cloth-yard shaft at that foul creature. The arrow flew true, I say, but as it came within an arm's length of that darkling magician, it swept forward its foul staff and a shimmering green glow interposed itself between the arrow and its target, deflecting the arrow harmlessly away. Seeing this, I charged forward with Throngor at my heels, intent on reaching that foul scum. As we came nearer that beast others of his tribe tried to interpose themselves between us and the foul idol. As we tarried to strike them down, arrows fell amongst us from another Orc and still more Goblins at the foot of the idol.Nicodemus, Throngor, and Diebold were engines of destruction, blessed by the hand of Sigmar killing goblin after goblin even as lightning blasts of sickly green energy flicked out from the fell goblin's eyes and struck down upon Throngor. Throngor, that doughty soul, fought on, his beard singed and his wounds smoking.
I leapt into the cupped hand of the idol, its altar of sacrifice, and struck the goblin there down in the name of Sigmar. Sweet are the blessings of Sigmar, that such is the strength of the righteous in the face of The Empire's enemies.
Oldric, hard on my heels, despite taking an arrow through the leg, muttered an incantation. Immediately after, I heard a clattering and a wail of disappointment as the shaman dropped the staff of foul aspect he had used to stymie Luther's arrows. Quickly Oldric followed that success with shining dart after dart of light, harrowing the goblin shaman into climbing down from his roost. As he left our view, Oldric swept up the shaman's foul staff.
Diebold, Throngor, Nicodemus and the rest of us then won our way through the last of the goblins on the ground, and Throngor struck the limbs from the shaman as he tried to flee down the stair behind the altar.
A last goblin remained, firing down at us from the top of the idol. Quickly his bow was dropped as Oldric ensorcelled him as well. Panicked, that scum leapt to the foot of the idol and ran for the barred door. Luther struck him down with a goose-feathered shaft between the shoulder blades, dropping him in the center of the chamber.
I busied myself with binding Throngor's many wounds and drawing the arrow from Oldric's leg. As they took it in shifts to watch the stair which led deeper into the hill. Luther and the rest went to see what it was that lay behind the portcullis.
The Greenskins within, locked behind that great portcullis which was only openable from our side, held a blonde woman captive, a thin goblin arm wrapped about her neck and a dagger at her throat. She screamed for help as the filth that held her gibbered and ranted, gesturing at the portcullis. Another greenskin, out of view in one of the cells, could be heard slapping someone, who groaned repeatedly.
Oldric then left to see what was going on, making his way to the portcullis . As Diebold told Rudiger to open the door and Luther readied his bow, the first goblin shrieked in his foul tongue and severed the woman's throat to the bone. Red blood sprayed everywhere as Diebold rushed beneath the portcullis Rudiger was raising. The goblin, fearful of Luther and Diebold's swift justice, fled within the cell Luther had made out the noise coming from.
I ran to the cries for aid, too late.
We were all stunned to immobility as we all heard a thunderous shout of, "Tzeentch, Changer of Ways, protect your faithful servant!" Immediately after those words, a horrid keening was heard as well as the wet sounds of flesh parting and giving up its humours. The goblin that slew the woman was launched from the cell, trailing red, rope-like cords from several bony spikes struck through its flesh. Such was the force those evil tendrils struck with that the body of the greenskin shattered the stout door to the cell across from it. Mewling in pain, the goblin was then dragged back into the space between the cells before being shredded in a welter of black blood by those noisome quills.
Diebold, stoutest of us, looked in on a scene of horror, and even he stepped back in the face of the blood-drenched horror within.
With a crash the cell doorway and stones about it fell outward as the mutated horror within pushed and slammed its way through the narrow passage and into the jailor's quarters and our view.
Only a man whose soul had been given completely over to Chaos could ever show such horrid mutations, that or the carcass of a Daemon- possessed. The thing stood half again Oldric's height, and massed three men. On two stumpy legs did it heave its lumpy, distended caricature of a body about. Pink, ropy tentacles made from a material not unlike entrails whipped about its right side, while bony spines on tougher sinew projected from random points on its bodyand a massive clawed hand projected from a huge mass of bloody red muscle on its left. A grisly maw projected from its chest several yards, snapping a mouthful of row on row of serrated teeth. Most horrid of all was the sightless human head and flailing arms which dangled unused at its sides, showing that this spawn was once human and the blood-stench that it carried with it.
Diebold stepped back and shouted to Oldric to close the portcullis. Luther, Rudiger, Nicodemus and I were rooted to the spot, fear and terror warring with our faith in Sigmar to carry us through. Oldric threw the lever, and the portcullis slammed down just as that foul thing dragged itself to the opening. It shot tendrils at Diebold, who parried those ropy entrails away and struck back, cutting one of those pink entrails which wept foul icor.
Nicodemus recovered quickly, moving to the other side and striking at it as well as the Chaos-spawned thing tried to shatter the portcullis with its weight and mighty claws even as Luther recovered and tried to feather the thing. Luther's hands shook with justifiable fear, and he sent several shafts into the wood of the portcullis before sending at least one into that creature. Oldric again used his magick, causing the creature to loose its grip on the wood and metal of the portcullis and frustrating its desire to close with us.
Again and again the thing slammed home, even as Oldric set a desperate plan in motion. Rudiger was drawn from his fearful paralysis by Oldric shouting at him to open the barred door. Throngor, hearing the thunderous blows the beast sent into to the portcullis and our shouts, left off guarding the stair and rushed to help us.
As he did so, the spawn shattered the center of the portcullis.
Oldric shouted down the corridor in that accent of his, "Goblin filth, come join your Chief in Death"
With devastating final crash, the portcullis shattered. I prepared myself to die in Sigmar's name, the leather of my hammers slick in my sweaty hands.
As it heaved itself toward Luther, who was still tormenting it with arrows, Nicodemus and Diebold struck at the creature from the flanks. Nicodemus' desperate blow had scarce any effect, but the mighty blow that Diebold struck could scarce have been any thing but an act of Sigmar's own Will acting through the eye and arm of Diebold Konigsamen. Sigmar guided his hand in a blow more telling than any I have yet seen, slicing that thing's snapping maw clean through at the base, where it was thicker than a full-grown man's thigh. It collapsed in a welter of purple-red blood, spewing filth across the floor.
Only a bare few moments did we have to regroup, as we stood slack jawed in wonder at Diebold, who calmly whipped the ichor from his blade and focused on the next task at hand. Rudiger though, sensible one that he is, slammed the door closed and barred it again before Oldric's desperate attempt to get our twin enemies, Chaos and the Greenskins, to fight one another led the goblins to try to open the door.
Just as the bar slid home, a pounding and hammering could be heard from the other side of the door, as well as the howl of a wolf. Diebold pushed us into position, forming a gauntlet of weapons to any that made it through the door. Telling off Rudiger and Luther to loose arrows into the fray form a distance. Oldric took a position behind the door, ready to close it as soon as possible, to limit the number of the foe.
Diebold signalled and Oldric let the door open.
The first goblins through the door were massacred in short order, I took the heads of two off myself, each with terrible swings of my hammers.
As we reset our lines and prepared to face a new set of the foe, the door was thrown open by the giant wolf and its rider on the far side, who leapt through, only to be slain in short order themselves. Quick on their heels were three more goblins on wolfback, and they did their damnedest to drive through us.
In complication, a last group of goblins came from the stair at the far end of the chamber yet again, including several archers, who I would have sworn incapable of making such a long shot. I was laid low by an arrow in the arm, and fell into darkness, recalling no more I was told the remainder of the tale.
The last of the wolf riders fell quickly to the arms of my companions, and Nicodemus did what he could to bind my wounds, dragging me from that chamber of battle and into the bedding of one of the orcs, where I lay until they had hunted down the last of the goblins during that evening and Oldric recovered a healing draught and a salve to place on my wounds from the goods the goblins had pilferred from the caravans.
The stair led to a mining area that the goblins had used as their lair. Throngor tells me that there are good deposits of iron ore there. Oldric recovered several ledgers and legal documents in the jailor's rooms, including a dark book.
The Dwarf Hill-Fort, 2522 YoE, Konistag, the 33rd and Last Day of the Month of Pflugzeit:
Woke the morning of the 33rd, First Quaff, as the Dwarfs know it, with a brutal pain in my arm and a savage itching all over. Pain was good news, however, as it is Sigmar's sign I am still among the living, despite the horrors I have seen. Diebold and the rest make an inventory of the goods recovered even as they count the numbers of the slain goblins. In total there were four tens and four greenskins, seven of which were Orcs or Black Orcs in breed. Luther has skinned the giant wolves. Throngor has recovered the cart and repared the one we saw out front. It looks as if we shall be pulling it using manpower once we decide on what we wish to bring with us from here and I am sufficiently recovered.
We were taking coucil with one another regarding this very thing when Rudiger noted a discrepancy in the wall behind my place, propped up in a salvaged bed. A secret door was discovered which led to the armory and payroll of the old hill fort. An ingenious trap was protecting it, that we were unable to disarm. We used a table as a bridge and Rudiger recovered the payroll.
Within was a store of fine Dwarf weapons and a full suit of Dwarf-made plate mail armor, better than any suit of the same stuff made by the hand of man I have ever seen. Each of us claimed items and the payroll will be added to the shares we divide.
The Dwarf Hill-Fort, 2522 YoE, Angestag, the 1st Day of The Month of Sigmarzeit:
This, the first day of Sigmar's most holy month, is surely a good day for his humble servants. I woke this morning feeling well enough to move around some more, and the rest of my friends began loading the carts.
There was some consternation over what to do with the mine and the goods we could not transport at this time, with Oldric preferring that we cache the goods and sell the rights to the Dwarfs. Some suggested we try to go into business for ourselves.
We compromised and will get Throngor to contact some miners in Middenhiem and see if they would be willing to use some of the labor of the refugees from Untergarde to assist them in drawing the ore from the earth. Those supplies we cannot carry will be left for their use, cached here. In this way we hope to do Sigmar's will and assist the Empire in strengthening itself for the future. We shall leave tomorrow at dawn with what we can carry. The irony of my earlier mocking of Luther's purchase of the cart and mule is not lost on me, and I realize Sigmar has taught me humility in a painful fashion in order that I not forget the lesson.
Oldric has read much of Frau Schmidt's journal, which he recovered. He told me the essence of his reading, which I have paraphrased here:
Apparently, the creature of Chaos Diebold slew was, at one time, a legalist from Delberz who had been sent north to take up Otto Vanderhoot's job. Wolfgang of Delberz was a part of Frau Schmidt's husband's caravan, and carried letters placing him in charge of the legal positions of the Association on his arrival, dismissing Vanderhoot. When it looked as if the caravan would fall into the hands of the goblins, Wolfgang began encanting in a dark tongue. A purple and yellow gas erupted from his body as he toppled to the ground, solidifying in a horrible bird-like daemon which struck down the remainder of the guards and then tried for the goblins before dissipating into a gas and disappearing in turn.
When a huge Black Orc returned with a small goblin bearing a staff, they captured Frau Schmidt and carefully gathered up Wolfgang, returning them their goods, aside from their weapons. They then put them in the cells beneath, and ordered the Frau to care for Wolfgang, who they desired for some dark purpose. The Frau thought the Orcs, being greedy, thought they could control Wolfgang. Happily for the Frau, Wolfgang remained unconscious, though she frequently thought of strangling him, only the thought of the blades of the goblins keeping her from ending the threat he represented.
It is my belief, after consulting with Oldric, that this Wolfgang was a foul chaos sorcerer who failed in his casting of magick, and accidentally summonded a daemon of Tzeentch, which killed the rest of his caravan and then became unstable, leaving its physical state to enter Wolfgang's body. When the goblin tried to wake Wolfgang, he thought himself still trying to save himself at the road, and called on his Dark Lord of Change to save him, with the above-mentioned results.
Foul are the workings of Chaos, and dark are their purposes, thanks to all that is good for Our Lord and Saviour, Sigmar, The Light in The Dark.
We determined to tell all to the Watch and the Temple of Sigmar. As for Vanderhoot, we will retain the letter and its contents giving Wolfgang responsibility over the Assocaition and its interests. The less said openly about the threat of Chaos cults, the better.
The Drakwald Forest West of the Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Festag, the 2nd Day of The Month of Sigmarzeit:
I ache to assist my companions, but find even the shortest walk too taxing, so instead I lay atop some of the goods, scratching at the fleas gained from sleeping in the bedding of the foul greenskins. The ancient road has made the forest just passable for our man-drawn cart, and we camp a spare few miles from the Untergarde Road.
The Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Wellentag, the 3rd Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit:
We made camp after nightfall tonight in the ruin of the old coachhouse. I fear I am a burden on my companions, and am trying to help when and as I may.
The Untergarde Road, 2522 YoE, Aubentag, the 4th Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit
Today we met a caravan that looked on us with distrust until we showed them the error of their ways. They were most impressed by the heads of the greenskins and we made good time when they kindly offered the use of one of their drays for the duration of our trip. In darkness again, we arrived at the coaching inn those stalwart souls have already set to rebuilding. Already the walls and roof are up. And tonight we sleep under the shelter of the roof. Oldric, despite the common man's distrust of his wizardly abilities, told the tale of our activities with such skill that I fear he missed his calling as a tale-teller. The laborer's were enraptured with the tale and shouted "Diebold and the seven!" when he finished telling the tale.
The City of Middenhiem, 2522 YoE, Marktag, the 5th Day of the Month of Sigmarzeit
We made our way through the throngs of people today, Diebold on his tall steed passing out coin to the needy. Vanderhoot was overcome like a woman when we showed him the heads, swooning and falling to the ground unconscious. Again Oldric told the tale, and again the crowd was pleased, and Vanderhoot, when wakened, paid our fee. He insisted on seeing Frau Schmidt's journal, which Oldric told him he would see only after Schutzmann had determined whether he should.
We continued on to the Headquarters of the Watch, where we were greeted with more pomp and certainly more pleasure by Commander Schutzmann. That stout man did reinforce our praises and had a scribe write the tale of our activities. He was free with rewarding us, and then had us come in to give as more private report. He had me remove the last few written pages of Frau Schmidt's journal and turn them over to the Temple. Which I will do.
Quite a throng waited outside to follow us back to the Happy Hearth and Silas Greentree's establishment.
Throngor left, only to return at sunset with a locksmith to open the payroll chest and make a key for us. He told me before settling in to pound drink after drink that plans are afoot to seek miners to work the ore deposit.
I have left my companions to their drinking as I am still weak from my wound and need rest.
Sigmar watch over them, they are good folk, and deserving of your sheltering arm.
posted by Semper Septum at 22:38
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