The Death of Diebold

Sir Diebold, Sigmar bless his memory, sent his servant, the humble scribe who writes this short record of what passed there, Edgar Strauss to invite Sir Diebold's companions to the tiny fief and manor south of the city which Sir Diebold was granted in recognition for the services he rendered unto the City of The White Wolf.

At loose ends, most agreed to attend, though Andric could not attend, as he was engaged in learning the arts needed to best channel the powers of blessed Sigmar through his mortal frame.
Imrak, a Dwarf with a large crest of orange hair, did attach himself to the the group, saying he wished to meet this Diebold Daemonslayer. The rest of the seven hastened to meet their old companion. Traveling with the Seven were Ralf and Max Bunsen, a pair of watchmen-in-training under Sergeant Krebs' command.

Upon their arrival at the tiny demense, they quickly learned that something was amiss. The small village which sheltered beneath the hill upon which sat the fortified manor was a burnt out shell and the manor itself had no fires nor other signs of life.

Doughty souls concerned for the safety of their friend, the companions pressed on and entered the manor with caution.

Inside we found signs of a fight in the kitchen, broken tables and scattered cookery. Upstairs. Upstairs there was a horror I cannot repeat. The study where Sir Diebold had practiced his letters and dictated his invitation... That study was drenched in blood and foul magick. Sir Diebold was nearly unrecognizable in death, his body hacked and brutalized, used, I later learned from Oldric, in some foul ritualistic fashion. His mother and other retainers were also dead, their bodies ripped and torn in the servants quarters. Quarters that were turned into an antechamber of the Hells. I and many of Sir Diebold's companions became sickened at the sight of the foul depredations visited on the corpses of the slain.

Luther Mohr discovered tracks of a man, whom he claimed to be large in stature and heavy, leading from room to room upstairs, then picked up the trail outside the manor. Luther was following the tracks when he became aware that he was being watched from the wood. Slowly he returned to the manor, fearful with every step that the beastmen and the massive Minotaur, Kroot leading them would attack.

Once within the door, he told us all that a warherd was coming. Quickly Diebold's Seven leapt into action, trying to bring the horses within the manor proper.

I saw that crazed Dwarf Imrak, him that took from me my spectacles before ever we left the City of the White Wolf, stand in the narrow notch that gave access to the yard and begin to laugh as the massive Kroot bore down on him, so it seemed he was wading through the hounds whihc he released to fell the Dwarf... I could not watch, and the next half-hour of blood and mayhem was too much for me try and write it here. Suffice it to say that Nicodemus and the stout Dwarf, Throngor put paid to that Minotaur, slaying him. We all thought Imrak dead, but he survived, no doubt due to the prodigious resilience of his race.

We gave Sir Diebold's family and his other servants a proper burial, but had no Priest or Initiate to say the words over them. Sir Diebold's remains were collected and carried out with us in order that he be buried in Middenheim, the city that loved him. I admit I was at loose ends as to what to do, until Oldric, one of Diebold's Seven and a Journeyman Wizard of the Grey Order of Imperial Magisters asked me to perform some small services for him. He says that he shall pay my way and provide me stimulating conversation, but forebear to ask me to join him on any expeditions.