Captain's Log: 33rd of Vorgeheim, 2514.
Ah by the hammer... I can't win a staring contest with that green one on the ramparts! He doesn't even have both his eyes, for crying out loud! Can we have one of the braves guide it to the other side? It's honestly getting on my nerves. It's bad enough knowing that I've got to go in there at some point. Go in there... with THOSE things. Eh, they shouldn't sting worse than those ones underneath Wittgenstein's observatory. The pants soiling is the worst part, to be honest. Our doctor can work on the wounds excellently and the other part can be handled by a fine Dolgan tailor. There, pure, rational thought and a cool head can take on any horror from beyond the world of life and death. Yeah.
Ar- Jim lad! You scared me there. If you can sneak up on me like that so easily, the living dead will be dead simple. Harbull, why are you sighing like that? Dolgan Jim is the newest member of our crew and a fine one at that! I just call him Jim because Dolgan Jim strikes me as a bit odd. Moot Harbull, Reik Johann... you get the idea. Fiendcutter, my magic sword, and The Eliminator, our marine captain's flail, had done their work against those horrible agents of Chaos. Bloody but victorious, we were heroically carried back to Voltsara and took a well deserved rest. Hertzen gave us a long conversation about his past adventures. I'm sure they were fascinating, I wasn't really listening... Next morning, we were dashingly standing before the Kislev court and Jim, who had brought the tidings our next quest. Get to the distant colony of Geroggabologanoff and and deliver a message to Ivanorolazovich about, ahem, "hrmblemrmble"...
Please excuse him. He knows a bit of Kislevite but can't remember the names to save his life. The rest I couldn't tell you, but I know he's referring to the camp outside of Chernozavtra. Delivering a message? Probably. Hang on, he's getting back on track...
So our horses galloped across the frozen wilds of Kislev. A cold expanse, with seemingly no end in sight. Well, until you got to a forest. Then you could see no end in sight in there instead. As is to be expected for such a daring crew, fate threw our way signs of the struggles that would plague us ahead. There, standing large before us, foreboding and more frost than wood... wagons. It gets good, trust me. I can't just jump to daemon killing every entry. I'd like to be honestly able to, but I can't. Jim leapt off of his horse and was quick to prowl among the wagons, searching for something. He quickly returned and told me of tracks. Heading where? We weren't too sure but we had a good idea of what could have caused all this. Well, Jim did... but I had a feeling.
It was confirmed as soon as we reached the bluffs. Looking below, we could see near our southern position a large camp with many figures as busy as an ant colony. North of them was a ford leading to a large town... wait, I can get this one... Cher-no-zaff-tra. It had black spires, great walls and was as dead as our dreams of having ordinary professions. I'm sorry if I'm a bit too giddy about all this. I guess it's trying to cope with the anxiety of being right next to... no, not yet. There were also, curiously, camps right around the town as well. What was I going to confirm? HOBGOBLINS! The bastards were the ones below our bluff. Jim told us this after a bit of deft spying. Plans were discussed. Mine was to set one of their tents on fire and go around them from the other side. This fire of unknown origin would confuse the green buggers while we went steathily across the ford. Harbull reminded me of Werner's heavy, noisy armour. Damn.
Jim pointed out that this type of goblin could be somewhat reasoned with if you presented them with a fair deal. It took me a minute but I had to take his word on it. There were at least a hundred of them. If we had the old mercenary crew from back in Tilea, we'd maybe have a chance... So we walked into the hobgoblin camp. They told us to halt, we told them that we wouldn't burn their tents, that sort of thing. One particularly ugly little goblin rode past us on a surprisingly clean wolf. One of their soldiers told us that he'd bring us to Haablo, their camp's leader. I was very confused by this whole radical "don't kill the goblins" idea, to be perfectly honest. The fear of death makes you adapt quickly though. Very, very quickly. Our guide was quick to point out their boars and wolves of war, the various troops, "Haablo's Heroes", and their advantageous position against the Dolgan people on the other side of the ford.
Some greenskin blighters tried stripping us of our equipment but we refused until their leader ordered them to piss off. They wouldn't even promise that they'd give them back. Bastards. Haablo's tent was adorned with various furs which he sat on, looking at us with a cool, piercing stare. He was wearing a suit of armour not unlike the Chaos knight, with a horned helmet and a deep scar down the middle of his face. I hate to admit it, but I was quite impressed by the level of calm he showed. Proper captain stuff, that is. He was quick to the point in asking who we were and what we wanted. We said a lot but actually very little. Haablo eventually agreed to let us stay the night, if we pay some crowns in the morning to cross the ford. It was a reasonable deal. The other terms were to stay with Krobag, the wolf-rider and our protector, and not to get into any trouble with any of the four war bosses. They were high ranking warriors who were keen on exploiting any weakness they could see in their leader and claim his place. Standard captain stuff, really.
We got into trouble with the war bosses. Erm, they started it. Two of them strolled over to us. Two big lads, fat as pigs and reeking of cheap kvass and probably shite. Nothing too odd for a sea dog. I've seen all sorts of drunken landlubbers and inexperienced sailors in my time. Most can't rip your head off easily though. That became an immediate problem.
"'Ello little humie."
"Hello, how are you?"
"Wha do yu do then?"
"I sail the seas, my good man."
"..."
"You've drank water before, right? It's like that but larger. A very important trade, back where I come from..."
"Thas bollocks."
"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW... no, I shouldn't. What do you do, then?"
"I smash humies."
"... Well, you won't be doing that today, sir."
The conversation continued like this for some time. He was apparently challenging me to some kind of duel? According to Krobag, anyway. I didn't think they'd go that far. Thought one look at Werner would scare them off. We set the terms as "his strongest versus my strongest". Werner enjoys bloodying his knuckles and I could sit back and... wait, I also have to fight? They wanted two versus two, sadly. Very, very insistent on it. Kept pointing at me. We set a ring near a fire and the marine captain cracked his knuckles and grinned. Many little green faces were our spectators. They watched with silent awe, eager to see what would unfold.
I was unused to not killing a beast with my fists, so pulling my punches would prove to be a major disadvantage. I almost goaded them into fighting to the death but they just wanted "a foight". Ah well. Werner had his foe seeing stars immediately. Twirled like an elf dancer in Middenheim and fell like a tree. My opponent was swifter and gave me a solid right hook. Barely stayed conscious. Would have went down soon after if Werner didn't hit him like a brick.
Haablo was not pleased. He scolded us and then made sure we stayed in our tent, heavily guarded. We tried offering him that suit of Chaos knight armour as a form of apology but he claimed he "had seen better". Cheeky son of a bitch. Gave us a new job instead. It was a message for Harbull to deliver to the Dolgan people across the ford. Something about one oxen per five people getting free passage... he claimed that he didn't want to kill ALL of them but rather wanted a deal. Krobag later told us that Haablo probably appreciated the chance to punish those war bosses and assert his authority and strength.
In the morning we made our way across the ford. We first paid the crowns to Haablo, who loudly declared the exchange for the whole camp to hear. Again, a show of asserting leadership. We bid the greenskins a peaceful farewell... by Sigmar, I hope to never say that again! We bid them farewell regardless and about half way across the ford, several arrows flew past my head. Warning shots. Dolgan archers, on the other side, readied another volley and called out to us. Jim had the whole problem under control. He told them of our quest and, after a bit more conversation in Dolganite (is that the right word?), they finally let us across. The Dolgan people were composed of various toti- totam- animal tribes and some river tribes. They have been at conflict with the hobgoblins for some time, possibly years.
We met their druid, sorry, shaman, and his two apprentices. One had a hawk, the other had never cut his hair before, and the shaman himself was adorned in odd runed clothing and a horned hat. Told Jim that he was fated to defeat the dark sorcery that plagued this place. Claimed we would all receive great wisdom. I was hoping for some food and kvass first but free wisdom is pretty fantastic. His tent was filled with various objects and trinkets that would help him work his powerful nature magic... what, The One? He had many "fetishes"? That's unfortunate... anyway. He weaved around us a great circle of silence. Only we could be heard from within. Or something like that. I'm going to get straight to the point now: the nearby town is full of unliving and daemons. I'm still trying to think of how we are going to deal with this.
He told us that fire doesn't work. The town itself puts it out and those things are unharmed by it. They keep living despite how much you chop them up, so smashing individual limbs seems to be the the best idea. The daemon notion is from the unearthly wails that come from inside the town at night. Can't trip them or pull them off the walls easily. They're as heavy as large trees. They don't even have the decency to kill you there and then. All victims have been dragged... somewhere. Then another one appears either inside or on the walls. They are both goblins and man and they hunger for the living. They can sense it and follow it blindly. Dirt keeps getting thrown over the walls. They're digging somewhere down... or something up. S-s-Sigmar help me, I thought it couldn't get any worse after the hell monsters and Chaos knights! The shaman claims that the power of Earth, Sun, Wind and Fire will help. I hope he is right.
A witch from the west tried to help the Dolgan tribe but disappeared after inscribing some strange letters on the city walls. The shaman can't even remember her name.
Well, the writing's on the wall.
- Johann Dasbuut.
In today’s Daily Halfling we are thrilled to have exclusive extracts form Dr Harbull ‘slayer of beasts’ Furfoot’s new book ‘Travelling with Idiots; a Halflings Tale. Coming straight on the back of his hit best seller ‘Training Cretins and Making Them Useful How to Find Your Own Werner’ Dr Harbull’s latest novel is a roller-coaster ride of thills and adventure of epic proportions. Please enjoy the following extract…
Something wasn’t right, it was just too easy. Under my expert supervision my lackeys had disposed of the waiting beast men with ease which was to be expected given my genius, however, something wasn’t sitting right. My trusty sea captain approached the trap door in his usual care free way, hoisted it open, and then immediately retreated.
What emerged managed to briefly shock even me, if but for a fleeting second. Two high ranking chaos warriors emerged emitting noting but menace. The first humanoid…ish covered in thick armour towered above us all quickly followed by a giant serpent like beast. I recovered instantly from my initial shock, naturally, and assessed the situation in an instant. I knew there was something not quite right and there it was gleaming in the hand of that giant chaos warrior, the legendary sword death dealer. This is no ordinary sword boys and girls this is a sword that will instantly kill anyone with magical blood with the slightest touch, and alas, as a man of an immense multitude of talents I of course possess magic blood. I briefly looked at The One and a sliver of understanding flashed between us. Of course, usually I could easily handle these high-level demons myself with one arm tied behind my back, however with that sword I would need to coach from the side lines staying out of range. All of this calculation and a battle plan formed in my head in the same amount of time it took Werner to soil himself as his legs shook violently as the beast approached him.
My stupid apprentice mutt looked at me with pathetic pleading in his eyes as I shouted out I could not fight by his side. His eyes started to tear up pitifully and begged his master to join this fight. My reply carried across the battle field with authority ‘Werner, Johan, I cannot dig you out of this hole because of that dammed sword, however Werner stick close to Johan and remember your training, your master believes in you’. I obviously do not believe in that moron however it was all part of my master plan. With his master’s words or praise ringing in his ears Werner steadied himself and started to engage the beasts. What happened next was a battle for the ages, well, for anyone other than myself of course.
As I avoided the beasts with The One in tow I rounded the battlefield shouting advice and strategy to the two fighters. Think of me like a master chess player shouting out instructions to my pawns. I can see so many moves ahead that unfortunately for those chaos warriors they were already dead the second they stepped out on to the battle field they just didn’t know it yet. Check mate indeed. Johan eventually could take no more but that was ok for of course I had anticipated every outcome. Swooping in from the sky with The One we carried Johan away to safety as I used my immense wisdom to start to heal him. While doing this I continued to direct the battle and under my expert vision and instruction Werner slayed the beast, a feat he would not be capable of at all without the praise of his master ringing in his ears and the expert instructions he executed. Least we forget this failed champion could not even break down a simple damaged old wooden door.
As the chaos warrior fell the serpent beast evaporated into the air as I had calculated it would. As the battle ended Werner collapsed shaking on the floor and soiled himself again as he thanked his master profusely. ‘Master Harbull thank you, oh thank you so much’, he managed to whisper through tears, ‘I am but a pathetic fool of a man but with your guidance can become much more than I could ever dream to be and maybe one day dare to dream I could become 1% of the man you are’. Maybe he isn’t as stupid as I though I chucked to myself as Wener threw up. Pitiful.
Our serialization continues next week featuring Goblins, zombies and of course more idiotic errors from Dr Harbull Furfoot’s pet Werner.
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