Captain's Log: 10th of Nachenheim, 2514.
I don't like where this is going. Nope, not one bit. They're even letting us into their lairs now and inviting us to church! Chaos is... do you think they heard that? I swear I could have heard someone walk by. Probably a "deader"? Let's hope so. I can't believe that hearing a living corpse outside is actually reassuring. Feeling snow and ice under my feet instead of the streams of the Reik really has put me in a glum mood. Age can get to you at, eh, what was it? Thirty seven. I'm thirty seven now. I've spent years being pulled back into this war against Chaos. Don't worry, I won't stop until I've earned my rest. Daemons bleed like the rest of us when they take one step on Empire soil. It's odd. Yeah, that's how I'd put it. Odd to imagine myself sitting here, planning another atta- investigation on a Chaos hive, once again worrying about what lurks below. I never thought my thirties would be my prime. About twelve or so years ago I won a fishing competition and was momentarily the pride of a small place just a bit north of Nuln. Never thought I'd be more content. That's small fry compared to the lobsters I've battled now though.
It's dark now in Bolgasgrad, the dead of night. Alright, that play on words wasn't intentional. Honest. Place is full of "tame" undead to the point where you somehow can become accustomed to the smell of rotten flesh. Awful place. They don't even make good ale servers and are better respected than the living! All that Sulring Golgol's work I bet you. Right, right, I need to actually explain all of this. Thank you for reminding me, Doctor Harbull. The stay at the Tsar's palace was brief but pleasant. I did refuse at first to detail our findings to Bogdanov but I was still terribly confused after the dwarf wizard and undead wife malarkey. Skeletal steeds... I still can't believe they brought us that far. Makes me think of those old tales of restless dead manning a ship. A bloody skeleton crew... right, sorry. We told him exactly what went on in that accursed city. Well, Jim did. Jim's got a good way with words, better than myself. Didn't even spill the beans slightly on the oath. Thank Sigmar we have him as a crew member. Bogdanov asked us about the hobgoblin camps. He was very persistent in getting a "proper" answer out of me. Very unreasonable about it.
"How many troops were positioned in the camp?"
"Lots."
"How many, exactly?"
"Many lots."
The sharp tactical mind of our marine Werner soon gave him what he needed to know. He dismissed us and told us to return to him straight in the morning. The stables of the Knights of the White Wolf were a nice place to sleep. A bit drowsy but still ready for our next holy quest, we spoke again with Bogdanov. Talk turned to that elf wizard Sulring Golgol... Dolgol? Sulring Dolgol? Whatever I call him, we figured out that he currently resides in the corrupted town of Bolgasgrad. The place was, and still is, swarming with the dead. Great. We needed to speak with a contact who was doing reconnaissance work. Julius Olvoga was his name. We hoped by the time we reached him he would still be alive... the regular kind. There is a sinister temple within the town dedicated to a cult of the Ancient Allies. It is believed that Sulring is in cahoots with the cult, if not the high priest or some other high ranking position. He is an immensely powerful and aged elf and because of this we were handed a stainless dagger of black metal. It can instantly slay any elf it even nicks. It was pushed across the table to me. I pushed it to Werner. He pushed it to Jim. With that sorted out we took a visit to the temple of Morr. A young acolyte called for the high priest as soon as we mentioned our quest. It is nice to have people actually believe in your crusade against Chaos. I don't have to tell you how odd people get in the Empire when you tell them about the rat men.
A man with a big, black beard and even bigger hat emerged from the temple. There was no doubt that this was the high priest. Showed him our war-gear for dealing with those rotting bastards and he was very impressed. He gave us his blessing on our quest and requested three things of us: to find out what the hell the cult is doing, discover the nature of Sulring's necromancy and to destroy any ritual documents that Olvoga might have. He wanted to know if we had any questions. Asked him the most important question about undead that was on our minds: do you go for the head or the legs first? He looked a bit unwell once we explained the different advantages, based on experience of course, of each approach. According to him it boils down to striking the head off of thinking undead, like vampires, and the legs off of the dumb ones. Good proper wisdom. I have nothing but respect for that high priest after that. We bid him farewell after an hour's prayer to Morr. We needed to not only know the undead but also the land, so we went to the temple of the goddess of wisdom. It was a very Tilean looking temple. Very out of place. We got more information from that priest than we needed. I'll tell you what you need to know: the River Lynsk forks nearby the town, there is a lot of marshy land close to it, and two good enough inns are run by the unliving. He told us to tell him anything else that we discover. I didn't think it was possible for there to be even MORE details about the town but we gave him our word.
The journey there was uneventful. We're all used to the cold by now. Even Mr. Crumbles here is getting better at hiding in my coat and braving the elements. He's a good crew member, our boy Cheeky. The town was heavily guarded. It was something you could notice even at a fair distance. Shite. Werner was quick with an excellent plan: I would play the part of a noble on a hunting trip with The One as my wife and Harbull as our child. Werner and Jim would be hunters hired by me. Saw some undead working along the way. Sigmar, I beseech you to protect my nose from such horrors in future! There were living farmers but they somewhat resembled their unliving crew members. One spoke to us briefly and told us that they were good workers but very peculiar to be around. Fair enough. "Deaders" is what they call them around here. An official stopped us at the gate and gave us a few warnings about the local laws. Same as the outland imperial colonies, but you must not discriminate against the Ancient Allies or the undead OR disturb either. Lied our way past her to the Stork and Stoat inn. The owner and her two daughters are nice enough people. Her undead servants were probably nice enough people, at one point.
Told her our story and got kicked under the table a few times for calling The One "my darling wife". My shins still hurt. Apparently there is a rumour going around that the prince's son is kept away for being too eccentric. Something about the undead being possessed by daemons as well. Not surprised. There was soon a lot of commotion over going to the Ancient Allies temple for a sermon. We were invited to join the innkeeper and her family on the walk there. Asked if they knew Julius and where he lived. We claimed that we were told that he knew everything about hunting in Kislev. Had to put on a bit of a show of being shocked when we heard otherwise. The temple of the Ancient Allies was unusually less decorated than most. The high priest at the entrance was a man named Leonid. A charismatic fellow with bright blue eyes, like the sea illuminated by moonlight. Just the sort who could lead a Chaos cult under your nose. The bastard. He was very happy to tell us of the history of the cult. The prince had established a fort and colony and rebuilt a shrine to a different god. One that wasn't Sigmar. The garrison was withdrawn, Bolgasgrad went its own way and replaced any cults with the Ancient Allies. They've been prosperous ever since. I reckon that's a load of bilge. Usually is. Offered us a chance to join the cult. I politely refused and we made our way to Julius' home.
His sister opened the door and she looked as pale as some of those farmhands from earlier. Julius was very sick and needed time to rest. We however insisted our way into the household and found him in his room. He was shaking with a terrible fever and mumbled something about... what was it Jim? You heard it.
"Passages... secret passages... where is my map?!"
Thank you Jim. His sister was starting to panic and yelled for the guards. We were called robbers and scoundrels! Everything we take is well earned under the holy eyes of Sigmar, thank you very much! Anyway, Werner calmed her down for a moment. Jim, eyes like an eagle, spotted the map of the temple under a few papers and snatched it quickly, without a sound. Not even I noticed until we returned to our room in the Stork and Stoat. Now we have a way into the temple.
Let's see how friendly these Ancient Allies really are.
- Johann Dasbuut.
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