(originally posted 25 Sep 2018)
Captain's Log: Angest- no Festag... No, maybe? Sigmarzeit, 2512.
I know my uncle Gary would be very angry at my lack of time-keeping but that's not the most important thing right now. Werner is currently comforting the poor dwarf construction worker Thingrum and will soon explain what happened tonight within this signal tower to the foreman. While we have time to briefly rest and eat, I shall tell you of our strange encounters and disheartening misfortune.
We sailed south from Delberz and soon anchored ourselves at a small hamlet nearby. We had no quarrel with any damned cultists there, so we instead bought some provisions and haggled a fair price for what they wanted of our wine casks. The innkeeper of this small village, after tasting our fine Stirland vintage, offered us about twenty or so gold crowns for three thousand mercantile units of wine casks. Scandalous hig- riverway robbery! That was until we realized that we had actually misheard him and he requested three HUNDRED. I swear tavern patrons smirked and snorted at our dumbfounded expressions. Damn them, I highly doubt they can read properly either! I wish sometimes the only thing I had to worry about was doing my fair share of work and not racking up too high a tab at a tavern. Rather be up to my neck in debt than shite spewing from the backsides of Chaos gods. Hrm, I think I just put myself off my lunch. What's that, Harbull? Made the worst of my wurst? Eh? Explain it to me later.
We spent a tense few days and nights on the way to Altdorf, down the River Talabec. I could vividly imagine another one of those tentacle mutants clambering up the aft of the Devil May Care and the thought made my skin crawl. Funny how only a few encounters with those blighted by Chaos can make you almost forget about things like footpads and highwaymen. That sort of thing seems preferable now. Funnily enough, those blasted mutants made the perfect excuse whenever we were asked why our armoury was so well stocked. The ship was in fine condition, despite our marine constantly spitting on the main deck, but there was a very slow start-and-stop method to our journey. Move by day, stop by night, mutants can probably see in the dark and I can't be at the helm all night. Wanda said she told us so about spending half our treasury funds on the cargo back in Altdorf. She's right but captain's pride keeps your mouth shut. After a couple of days we sailed around Altdorf and stopped at a small place named... Autler. I need to commit that name to memory, for reasons that will become apparent.
There was nothing particularly thrilling about Autler, it was the sort of place that brought the urge to get back to the sea or river soon after arrival. They dealt primarily in trading fish and some other goods. Most importantly, unlike Delberz, they were hungry for some wine. No thirsty, thirsty for wine! Dammit I thought I was getting good at these puns. We arrived by nightfall and spent the night there drinking with some locals and waiting for the morning to begin trading. We got into gossip with one fellow about the Emperor's son, who is imprisoned in Castle Reikguard. Rat boy, Chaos priest, genius schemer, idiot, mutant, unfairly persecuted and pure, the gamut. What Dieter, a local fisherman, told us was unbelievable. In Altdorf they issued a new, Emperor-approved edict regarding mutants: they were unfairly persecuted, more would be integrated into society and anyone killing a mutant unfairly would be immediately executed! Madness, mutants are hateful and deadly to all good folk of the Empire due to the warping effects of Chaos. I still cannot believe it as I say it aloud.
Werner is fond of drink and hangovers are fond of him. I went to trade in the morning with just Renata because of this. She considered it an easy bargain and thus spoke rather casually with Autler's tavern keeper and his wife. I tried my hand at joining in the conversation and it went as follows:
"Yes, I say you could thoroughly benefit from owning some of our fine Stirland wine. Your wife certainly looks like she appreciat-"
"Are you saying that my wife is an alcoholic?"
I remained silent after that and just let Renata handle the conversation. Despite the mishap, it was going brilliantly. Only something extremely ridiculous could ruin the bargain. Dieter stumbled into the tavern jerkily, hiccuping and giggling. He told us not to venture into a certain cabin of the ship. He had gotten sick all over the walls and contents. He said the wine made him sick and was poison. I'm pretty sure the tavern keeper yelled something about poison, a plot about killing his wife, or something similar. I only heard snatches of it from behind me because I ran with Renata to the ship as soon as the words "It's poi-" left that drunkard's lips. Sigmar blessed me with good legs, thankfully. I won't lie, I smiled when I finally got to use a boarding axe to quickly cut our ship's ties to that awful village. Love these tools, I'm glad I bought eight of them. We sailed away faster than the hanging mob could gather. Although some may attribute our speed to the great winds we got that morning, I still reckon it was my sailing skill that pulled us through.
We crossed Autler off the map in my cabin and continued south east. Something alarming was realized when we stopped. A small vessel was anchored behind ours at a fair distance, seemingly waiting for us to set sail. I couldn't see too well the exact details of their crew. Damn, I knew I should have spent seventy five gold crowns on that spyglass! We briefly visited Castle Reikguard, thinking we could somehow find a way to see the fabled rat boy. It was well guarded and those guards were exceedingly well armed and vigilant. We discovered that they didn't want wine, they didn't want visitors and they certainly didn't want us hanging around. We got back on board and carried on with our journey.
Or so those pursuing blackguards thought! I pulled the old "sudden stop, swerve around and board them while they panic" maneuver and we were face to face with two disreputable fellows. The short one tried to explain themselves as merchants but Werner promised to gut them like a fish unless they gave us the truth. They were cultists of the Purple Hand, from what I understood of the note they gave us. They were sent to follow our ship and report on our whereabouts but they now promised to leave us be and not say a word. Lies, as usual for cultists. I suggested we make them temporary crew members. Harbull and Werner rightfully called me mental but, in my defence, I just didn't want them to go back and tell the cabal about our location. We eventually agreed to make a cabin below deck our brig and shoved them both in there.
We had noted before the wonders of modern technology with the arrival of the signal towers. They sent messages through long distances or something along those lines, with not a hint of sorcery involved. From starboard we could see another one of these towers along the river south to Grissenwald. It was roughly half-way done in terms of construction and the project was entirely handled by skilled Dwarf craftsmen. Two dwarfs ran full pelt alongside our vessel, imploring us to stop. Their accents were very, hm, northern. North of our land. They were the previously mentioned Thingrum and a friend whose name I shall not dare to try to pronounce. They looked like they saw a ghost and offered us twenty gold crowns a day for safe passage away from the signal tower. I had no idea dwarfs were this rich! I was about to let them occupy a cabin below deck but soon came the Dwarf foreman, looking like he was going to collapse. Gave Thingrum and company a righteous scolding for trying to flee the site. Werner, interest fully piqued, rightfully asked why the hell someone would flee so desperately. To cut a long story short, dwarfs were disappearing in the middle of the night, one by one, and the rumours were something to do with an Elven burial ground beneath the tower. They assumed Elven wickedness, we silently assumed Chaos, and thus decided to help solve the problem.
We found two strange things about the tower and the mound it was being constructed on. Firstly, Wanda found a sealed doorway at the end of an obvious path into the mound that was identified as holding a magic force within, but we couldn’t find a way inside. Secondly, I found a trap door within the tower itself, about half-way up, and we weren’t sure how deeply it went. I assume directly into the damned mound itself. We decided to wait until night and set Thingrum as bai- a lookout near the trapdoor. We waited outside the tower door and, upon hearing the trapdoor open, shrieks and spilling piss, all charged in and hacked the thing to pieces. I’m sure Werner would have quickly disemboweled it on his own, but we wanted to make sure it was properly dead. It was a desiccated corpse with fangs, not as elfin as they thought. Around its neck was a brass tube with a five-pointed star on the end. It was magical, according to our wizard, so we let her keep it. She said it was not a whistle, despite its shape. I’m thinking it’s a way for a sorcerer to control the monster, but I could be wrong.
So now we wait for Werner.
I hope the rest of these walking corpses, Dwarf-eaters spat out from hell itself, are just as quickly cut down.
Signed,
Captain Johann Dasbuut.
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