Captain's Log: 2514.
The morning sun made me wish for a stream of cool water. This hamling seemed as arid as the tales of Araby I had heard from adventurous sailors. Harbull is telling me that the word is actually "thorp" for a village smaller than a hamlet and NOT "hamling". Ah. Fair enough. Are you su- you are, okay, I'm sorry. We were standing in the middle of Pritzstock and there was a dead silence as we pondered what sort of approach to take. Not the silence OF the dead. We had left that and Kislev a good while ago and I don't intend to return any time soon. The flying skulls were bothering people who wanted to get to the wine. Putting the fear of Sigmar into the cowards, and the courageous but unprepared like ourselves, and biting the brave. Hms, ahs, and "wait"s filled the air as we discussed who to question. Henri's wife Elizabeth was pretty quiet and didn't have much to say. We reckoned that she would have said something at their home if it was important. Erietta was bitten by one of the skulls and kept safe in her family's home. The two shopkeepers had a sneer on their lips the moment we walked into this thorp. Right snooty bastards who valued gossip more than Henri did his wine. That kind of person is the worst for this sort of thing. They spread word of what your doing and things can get dangerous very quickly. Chaos has many ears. Not just the mutated ones.
Knud and Sigismund were the two workers who had dealt with the skulls before. They seemed like the best choice at that moment. If we could ask enough people we would be able to determine a patrol route for these skulls and get cracking on both their trails and heads. Outside the farm was quiet. I would take as much quiet as I could before the mayhem of the festival started. Knud approached, shovel in hand, and bore grim news: Sigismund had fled in terror from his duty and friends.
"Bloody, damning, blasted, blisterin'..." I thought furiously.
"It's alright." Knud gave us a confident grin. "I've got Clod right here."
"Clod?"
"Me lucky shovel."
It was a fine shovel, truth be told. Dented and chipped from terrible sparring with skulls but still in one piece. He was right to be grinning. I wish my club, or rapier, or even the boarding axes held up as well... Agh, I feel like a weapons pedlar sometimes! I need to relieve myself of this war-gear when I have the chance. Fiendcutter and the rapier do most of the work anyway. He led us a good hour's walk away from Pritzstock and towards the edge of the forest. He told us that one of those abominations emerged from the trees and tried to bite him. Knud was adamant that if it weren't for Clod, they would have all met their makers. We learned that the wine wasn't what the skulls wanted. They didn't want grapes, or wine, just the taste of human flesh. That put the idea of a rival wine merchant wizard out of our heads. We thanked him for his help and made our way to Erietta's home.
They were not pleased to see us. The entire family's look of disgust was almost theatrical and felt like they had rehearsed it. Blessed foes of Chaos sometimes cannot be recognized by regular folk, sadly. Doctor Harbull, our good physician and chronicler, presented himself as the authority on healing wounds and other such maladies. They bought it quickly, thank Sigmar. I'm glad that the love of their Erietta had overcome them. Our doctor discovered that it were two small bites to the neck that thoroughly drained her of blood. She would recover soon from the fainting but she was lucky to survive. Two young women, twins, told us what they had saw during the attack. Both were eager to tell the tale and repeated what the other had said. It was hard for me to determine who was following who in the telling. The crew and I didn't learn too much but it was good to learn that she would live. Sir Marine Captain Werner and I discussed the possibility of a vampire but soon rejected the idea. It didn't sound too much like what was described to us by the high priest of Morr. Vampires usually have the whole body. Also skin.
Our return to the silent heat of the village was short lived. A piercing shriek cut through the air and spurred us towards the nearby vineyard. A slow, bobbing skull was seen swooping and diving towards its intended victims. We could hear the sickening chatter of its teeth and recoiled at that awful grin. The whole place was driven to panic and fright. I've seen headless chickens run and this slammed that memory back into my head. Jim and I paused and looked around. We were the only ones that had managed to keep our wits. I unsheathed Fiendcutter and clicked my fingers right in front of the monstrosity. It took the bait and glided down to strike. THWACK! My sword had knocked the bloody thing to the ground. Broke its jaw off and dimmed the ungodly light from its eyes. We snatched a moment to collect ourselves before letting The One inspect the thing. She cracked it open and discovered burn marks inside. Like that of the green witch flame she conjured. I supposed aloud that it was made by sorcery and not summoned, which would explain why they were not unstable. I tried my hardest to conceal that I had no idea what I was talking about. The One was pleased to be able to discuss such things with "surety and perspicacity". I nodded and hoped those words meant I did well.
That foe had came from the north side of the forest. So did a second. It was the skull of a beast man and it spied on us briefly. It hastily fled into the forest and we summoned the entire militia to begin a pursuit. We had begun to hunt for the lair of the skulls. Jim was the man for the job as always. It was hard to track a skull above ground but he did wonderful work regardless. It was getting closer to night and we hadn't made as much progress as we hoped. The militia started grumbling and questioning our authority on such matters. We had to think of something fast. I thought of employing Mr. Cheeky Crumbles as a scout but then I realized that he would have no way to tell me what he saw. The plan was foiled by a definite lack of communication.
Luck came our way. Jim had found strange bundles of green firewood placed on the forest floor. They were by no means dropped thoughtlessly. There must be some pattern to these bundles that signify... skittering, squeaking, scurrying was heard close by. I recognized what those sounds were but did not dare acknowledge them immediately. Our ranger kept quiet and followed the noises. He came back shortly and confirmed my fears: rat men. We told the militia to stay behind as we investigated the rat men band. There were three armoured warriors and a robed rat. It was clear that they were awaiting his decision on a matter. We did no such waiting. The One let green flames do their work and sent rats singed and shrieking. I gave one a vicious wound on the scalp, Werner shattered the shield arm of another, and Jim severed his opponent's weapon arm cleanly. A larger, better armed member of their band joined the fray. Struck Jim to the ground with a blunt strike to the groin. The rat man wizard sent a purple flame hissing past my head. The One sustained the blow without a single singe. How this occurred I do not know. I dare not know the workings of sorcery. Her return volley, in the form of lightning, left only a pile of ashes where the wizard once stood.
The three remaining rat men surrendered immediately. The largest warrior introduced himself as Sergeant Skeena and told us of his plan to recover the warpstone for the Skaven empire. Greatest empire in the world compared to the "man things", according to him. He was very proud of his pendant of a horned rat skull.
"What's a Skaven?"
"W- We are Skaven!"
"I thought you were beast men?"
They spat on the ground with disgust.
"NO, NOT FOUL BEAST BEAST! Skaven, followers of Grey Seers. We find warpstone for Grey Seers."
"How do you know where the warpstone is?"
"The Grey Seers always know..."
They gave the warpstones to the Grey Seers to continue building their empire. According to Skeena, at least. We decided to tie them up and let them show us where the warpstone was. Their whines of dismay were pathetic and honestly incredibly annoying. Skeena told us that it was a wizard who lived in a cave that owned this powerful warpstone. They looked primarily for signs of Chaos in an area when searching for the warpstone. Skeena gave Werner an odd look for about a minute while talking about this. I guess he was simply in awe of Death Dealer. It was no problem for Skeena's company but we stumbled through the dark for what felt like a good hour or so. Although it was easier than explaining the rat mutants to the militia. There was indeed a cave. We decided that tomorrow we would go in and destroy the foul Chaos within. Our wounds were taking a heavy toll and we needed the rest. Brushed off any questions about the Skaven from the villagers. Stuck them in a barn and now we take turns making sure they don't escape.
Ah, it's my turn right now. Death Dealer will make short work of the wizard who has cursed this place.
If it even is a wizard.
- Johann Dasbuut.
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