Nachgeheim 23:
I hereby claim this book in the name of me. Konrad. We have buried Old Crazy along side the road to Middenheim. He does no longer, I believe, need it. So it is not theft. Not that that would have stopped me. It is a shame the old man is dead. I was beginning to like him...No. That is a lie, but its has been said that it is wrong to speak ill of the dead. Perhaps I shall just speak of our short history together these last few days.
When I met Old Crazy days ago, in Nuln, he was the only one willing to travel without caravan and escort. Given my need to depart the city quickly, he and his cart was my only way north. A couple days into the journey...I began to wonder if it was so wise. Old Crazy often talked to several others who I don't believe ever existed and seemed intent on driving over every bump and hole in the Morr-cursed road! The damned cart itself was filled with junk and those things obviously taken from the remains of houses and farms destroyed by the latest incursion of chaos from the north. But as long he did not speak to me and keep the horses pointed in the right direction, I did not complain much.
A day north of Altdorf we came upon a river town that the old man insisted on stopping at. I did not argue, for my rump needed the rest almost as much as my ears. The opportunity to drink something other than rain water dragged me off that wooden death trap on wheels what Old Crazy called a wagon. While at the inn (I forget its name) we encountered a strange couple of creatures who also wished to journey north. Old crazy did not trust them at first, but I saw the advantage of having others along the journey, especially these two. One, an elf named Yavindeer, and the other called Hugo, a halfling fire-starter. I knew that with them along, no one would notice me at all and that was good. The stories of a crazy old man, cheerful half-man, and swarthy elf that would be left behind us would hardly leave room for any descriptions of me, an uninteresting man.
A couple days north of the river town, I was beginning to question my decisions again. Though the elf was somewhat quiet, I did not sleep too soundly. The blasted half-man Hugo has told me more about charcoal than I shall ever need know. I'll never understand how anyone can be so cheerful. It vexed me. I may have done something to change his mood if we had not come upon the caravan.
The caravan had been there not long, I think. Ambushed. Some signs spoke of orcs, but some of the methods used to destroy the caravan did not seem like the work of orcs. Whoever had done this thing had laid some clever traps. In one of the coaches we found a couple of strangely garbed prisoners. The coach has been filled with what seems like pillows and mattresses. Though one of the men seemed be alive, he would not awaken. The Shallyan priestess that had accompanied them had been torn apart as though by large cutting blades, like those of the orcs. I did not stay long in that coach. The second coach also held a man not yet dead. He appeared to be a wealthy one, with gems and rings about him. The papers and diploma in the coach claimed him to be the Key Meister Gustav Schimmel. It also contained a letter to him from a Manfried Blocksberg of Altdorf. It offers an invitation to meet him at a tavern called the Prospect in Middenheim. Unfortunately dear Gustav died while I attempted to rescue the third coach from the raging river it had rolled into, so I did not get a chance to ask him questions.
The third coach we dragged from the river using the horses and trees. The inside housed more of the dead and what it contained was stranger than the first two coaches. The bloated body of a priest of Morr caused me much pause. But the others eagerly searched the coach. We next came upon the body of what I believe to be a witch hunter. I felt little remorse. If I could make others of his kind suffer the same fate...I happily would. I did not bury the body. Lets the wolves have him. His sword has served me well, however. A beautiful thing.
It was the third body that gave us all pause. Though bloated like the others, it was easy to see that it was an elf. More astonishing was that our own companion, Yavin, bore a remarkable resemblance! I know little of elves, so at the time I believed that perhaps they all looked alike. I soon learned otherwise. It had some sort of item with a finger in it. I did not look too closely at it. After gathering was little was left of the caravan's leavings, including a mud-filled blunderbuss, we decided to leave the terrible scene behind.
The next day we encountered a band of elves and that’s when I realized they did not all look alike. Well...never very much alike, anyway. They emerged from the woods with no sound and a suddenness that unnerved me. Yavindeer spoke to them. They did not appear to like what he had to say. He gave them the strange item that we found on the elven body. For a moment, I thought they might attack us. But they disappeared back into the forest leaving on a road grown quiet. I did not like it. We decided to make haste along the road.
Unfortunately, the elves changed their minds sometime later that night. As we sleep, the elves attacked like assassins. Old Crazy died before he even woke up, filthy elven arrows prickled his back like a porcupine's quills. He should not have sleep on top of the wagon, it was stupid. The three of us who survived had taken shelter along side the road, in the fringe of the forest. The elves did not see Yavindeer in his camouflaged tent and made the mistake of thinking that I am a deep sleeper. A few moments after the attack began, all 3 Kithbanders (as Yavin called them) were dead. Their blood stained my new blade. Both Hugo and Yavin proved themselves up to the task. Both have excellent range with their weapons (sling and bow). If the three of us ever come to blows, I shall need to remember to keep close to them.
Well, that is it for today. Night comes and we have decided to keep going for as long as the horses can manage. It is no longer safe for us in this forest.
Nachgeheim 24:
We have stopped to let the horses rest. It will do us no good to have them die before we reach Middenheim. After looking through the wagon this morning we found a secret compartment. Within it was some ancient looking picture with a gold frame. It looks very old. I believe that it is the likeness of Sigmar and may be worth quite a bit. I also found military discharge papers. They belong to a Sergeant Jurgen Putoff. I think that was Old Crazy's name. Somehow it doesn't seem to fit the old man. It doesn't matter now anyway. The picture gives me an idea of how to get into Middenheim. I must think on it.
Nachgeheim 25:
The traveling goes well enough. The half-man Hugo seems to have a strange obsession for spoons. It turns out that the elf found a pouch of elven gold coins on the body in the coach. They look to be worth a fortune. Luckily for him I have found more than enough loot to satisfy me. The blunderbuss I found at the ambush will not work. I'll need to have it looked at once we reach Middenheim.
Nachgeheim 27:
Fluch! We have reached Middenheim. I am glad I was not here when the Chaos Army struck. The city has appeared to hold well enough. But the bodies that lie along the road are inhuman. They also stink. The line of people to enter the city is long and it appears that it will be difficult to get in. I will need to speak quickly.
Nachgeheim 27:
It turned out to be easy to gain entrance. Like every other watchman I have dealt with in my years, those manning the gates are bored to death. It was a risk to show them the painting of Sigmar, but it worked. They believed that we were on a mission of delivery of the church of Sigmar. For a moment I though he might try to take it from us or call for someone important to deal with us. But the threat of hassle and paperwork turned his mind. He let us by.
The streets of Middenheim is packed with refugees and the dispossessed. There is still much chaos and confusion. Perfect! I will do well here I think. we returned the coach horse that we found at the ambush to its rightful owners, the Wolf Runner guild. They were suspicious of us. I don't blame them. After we left they sent a stable boy to follow us. After I boxed his ears and sent him back, we continued on our exploration of the city.
The fool of a half-man insisted that we return the painting to the church of Sigmar. It seemed a stupid idea, but I decided that it would be difficult to sell it here anyway. But we kept the gold frame as a compromise. Generosity only goes so far! We did gain a cask of the church's finest wine. Somehow I don't think we got the better of that bargain.
After selling what we found from the caravan and the elven bodies, we made off extremely well. I was able to afford new armor after selling my chain. Breast plate, vambraces, even greaves to go with my new leathers. In all my years working for the guild in Nuln, I was never able to afford such things! Others on the street make room for me now as I walk. No longer am I a hunted man from the south, but a dangerous man to be reckoned with. This must be what it is like to control ones own destiny. I like it. The blacksmith, after inspecting the blunderbuss, told me that he could fix it up almost as good as new. The gold he charged me to fix it was more than i believed i would ever pay for any one thing. It had better be worth it.
I decided to visit the tavern mentioned in the letters I found. The Prospect was true to its namesake. There I found the man Blocksberg that the dead Key Meister supposed to meet. He was quite stricken when I gave him the dire news of dear Gustav’s death. This Blocksberg is a wizard. A have never seen one, but I have heard enough stories about wizards to know not to trust them. Their powers, whatever they may be, apparently do not extend to bargain making. I charged him 150 gold just to search through the key master's belongings. He did not find what he was looking for. Some sort magic key that can defeat any lock. Interesting. Blocksberg then offered us any sum of money if we were to retrieve this mythical key. I will have to think on it. It may just be the ranting of a wizard driven insane by having gone places he shouldn't have.
Nachgeheim 27:
Very Interesting. The local key-meister that I sold Gustav's locks and tools to was also looking for this damned magic key. I let him short change me on Gustav's belongings only because he confirmed the wizard's story. A few handful of gold would mean nothing compared to possessing this key. A very lucrative possibility. I did not like his attitude or the demeanor of his bodyguard, the ogre Mr. Peabody. I shall deal with them in due time.
I think I will like it here very well indeed in Middenheim...
Nachgeheim 28:
I hate Middenheim. The damned halfling's morality is going to get us killed! Dummkopf! We have been held responsible for the death of the high priest of Sigmar. Hugo was the last to be seen with the blathering old idiot, so now we are responsible? I should have let the Watch have him. However, I was able to persuade the Watch Officer for 24 hours to find the killer. We did manage to get empowered with the authority of the watch during those 24 hours. A mistake on their part...and it shall cost them. That should be worth the trouble, as soon as I can think of a way to use it. I tell you this, I will not fall to the gallows because of Hugo's insane sense of right and wrong! I'll beat it out of him yet.
Nachgeheim 29:
Well, it does not appear that we will be hung after all. Once we investigated the scene of the priestly murder, we found that some sort of creature-man had climbed both the outer wall and 3 stories of stone temple and fired some sort of dart dipped in poison at this father Dietrich while he sat at the table in his room. Nicely done, i thought. Although it was to strange a form of killing. A simple throwing axe would have had made more sense that some strange dart. Why set yourself apart from other killers? It makes it that much easier for you to be identified! The other two seem to think it was sort of rat-man. I could care less what exactly it was, only that it was so very different from us that hanging us would not be profitable for the burgermeister. I found that the priest had been writing his own journal while researching the painting. Though the journal page had been ripped out, the assassin must not have thought anyone would be able trace the impression of the writings on the page after it. Bewunderer. I've had occasion to use that trick before when working for the Guild in Nuln. Thats why they taught me to read and write. The journal spoke of a map on the back of the painting, but the priest was killed before he could scribe its destination. Wherever that map leads, it must be very important to someone...
Upon reporting our findings to Herr Shutzman, the burgermeister pressed into Watch command service, he told us that this type of killing had happened three other times. Besides this deitrich, a veran temple guard, a homeless man in the maze given to the templeof Morr, and a guard at the dwarven engineer guild. The watch saw no connection between the killings. But then they don't know about the map as i do. Our watch powers were then extended for another 4 days at the price of 5 gold each per day to investigate this mystery, with a bounty on the head of each chaos creature we find and kill. Things are back to the way they should be...me making money. I find it funny that only one day before we were being threatened to prove our innocence or be hung, now we are responsible for the safety of the citizens and the peace of Shutzman's peaceful rule of the city. In the end, this will cost more them all more than 5 gold a day.
Nachgeheim 30:
Our investigations have turned out very profitable. We have learned much. The Morran priests were quite helpful. The body of the unknown victim that the watch gave to the Morr temple had just been buried. At great expense. Apparently by three dour-faced friends who paid much for a fine grave stone in the actual graveyard! By the description of the men and the symbol of sword crossed with hammer upon the sign of sigmar carved on the stone, i believe that the men are witchhunters in the employ of the church of sigmar. Its too bad the assassin could not kill more of those butchers. The priest led us to where the body had been found in the poor section of the city. Near the the spot the body was found lay an old cesspool of a well. Very suspicious. After throwing the halfling down it, it surprised no one that the well wall had been collapsed and that a path lead into the sewer. Scattered about the well were signs of the creature that had killed the priest.
The priests of Verenan temple were a different matter entirely. Once we showed them our papers, of course, they let us into the temple. Their story is that the killer of their temple guard alerted the rest of temple in time and that the killer escaped without stealing anything. A lie of course. My meeting with the High Priestess Elizabeth did nothing to convince me. She is a cold, arrogant, and haughty bitch. I like her. She repeated what the other priests of her order told me...that nothing had been stolen. She is not a very good liar. In the past, I would have beaten the information out of her and her brethren. However, that would have cost me my watch powers, which are still too useful to me at this point. So I let her go on with her ruse. In the near future, she and I will talk again. Privately.
We decided to report our findings to Shutzman before our attempt to speak to the dwarves. There are a notoriously private and stubborn people. It may prove very difficult to dig any information out of them. True to form, somewhere in Hugo's verwirrt mind he decided it was a good idea to volunteer us to investigate the sewer. Meine Gotter. Sooner or later his foolishness will kill me or i will kill him. It is spilt milk now. In the morning we see where the sewers of Middenheim will take us...Ach.
Nachgeheim 31:
I'm fairly certain that this is the 31st. It is hard to tell how long we have been down here in these sewers. Day and night mean nothing down here. Our day is that brought only by torch light and our night is only the pitch black swamp of sewage and stone. We had entered the sewers through the well and followed it for short distance before we noticed a body floating in the river of slime up ahead. It looked like the body of a child. As we drew closer we saw what looked like a man from the distance shambling around in the muck. Unsure as to whether we aught to call out to him, our decision was made for us. Another of the "men" dropped from the ceiling of the sewer, trying to surprise Yavin. It missed Not one to take such chances, it was here that i decided to try out my new weapon...the blunderbuss. When the fuse lit the weapon, it was as though the throat of hell itself had opened and spit out its venom. Gotter Verdammt! The first of the men, creatures we would later come to know as Eaters of the Dead, was blown apart. The second took much damage to his arm, but was still standing. I've found in my use of the blunderbuss that it can be a fickle weapon, destroying one target, yet leaving another entirely untouched.
After dispatching the remaining Eater, we inspected the body we had first seen. It was indeed a child. A small girl who had no doubt lost her way and found herself in the sewers. Poor child. To her credit, she had bravely tried to survive the horrid morass of the sewers. She had even created a map of the sewers that pointed out the pits and dangers. Though i do no know her name, i bless her soul and pray for it to find Morr's quiet embrace, for the map has served us well.
By reading the map, we knew to avoid the dangers that lie ahead of us. Such as the 'Boom' area, a part of the sewer that held pockets of gas that would occasionally ignite and bath the area with flame and thunderclaps. Just beyond this was an area of the map marked Eaters of the Dead. Perhaps it was because of the lost girls memory that i decided not to avoid these Eaters, but instead to inflict upon them a vicious doom. Or perhaps it was the dwarven shrine that lay beyond them that drove me to engage the zombie men. Either way, the girl was revenged. Once again, the blunderbuss proved its worth. Earlier during our travels in the sewers i had grabbed a rat out of frustration and stuffed it into the Buss so as to condemn it to certain doom. This, as it turns out, was a fine tactic. As we snuck up on the Eaters of Dead, not exactly the swiftest of enemies i have fought, as they dined on a body i could no longer recognize as human, i fired my weapon. Half of their number went down with the Bluss's blast...and up...and to the side. Far more amazing than that, the rest of them fell upon the rat parts that now littered their cove. I would never believe such a thing, had i not seen it myself. They did not seem to notice us as we swept down upon them and slew them where they stood. I can not imagine what would turn a man into such a thing as these Eaters of the Dead. I only know that they do not deserve to live any longer. Killing them is mercy.
The dwarven shrine was fascinating. Hugo and Yavin decided to create rubbings of the dwarven script carved into the shrine. A wise move, though i would never admit it to them. A pity i cannot read dwarven. However, knowledge of such a thing within the sewers should serve us well when we speak to the Dwarven Engineers guild upon our return to the surface. It may well loosen their tongue when it comes time to ask them questions.
As we ventured deeper within the sewers the sharp eyes of Hugo spied a gnobbler following our trail. It was no doubt the pet of the ogre, Mr. Peabody. It escaped our wrath for now. But there shall be a reckoning between Middenheim's Lockmeister, his bodyguard, and their little spy soon. Mark my words.
Finally we reached the part of map marked Sewer Jacks, agents of the Middenheim watch. Here we expected to find shelter and perhaps a friendly face or two. What we found was death. Markings on the wall were written in blood and spoke of treachery and ambush. The blood turned out to be of a sewer jack named Carsten. The jack's last words were of the treachery of the Sigmar church and some evil bitch. I understood who he spook of immediately. With those words, the man died. I believe his death to be the last gasp of the Company of the Rusty Lantern. Though it made me feel as though i had been transformed into something inhuman, i once again searched a dead body. It is not a thing i enjoy, but i must have knowledge of what is happening in this city and the sewers seemed as though they hold answers. They do. We found upon the body more maps that speak of a depth and reach of the sewers that is astounding.
As i sit hear in the sewer jack's respite, writing by torch light...it is clear to me now that something, or someone, powerful and dangerous lies within the depths of the sewers. A secret that some of the powers within the ranks of priesthood that lie above these sewers would have buried for all times. Their zeal to hide the truth has lead to the deaths of many, from High Priests to homeless vagabonds. Their hubris is astounding. Their lack of respect for life is impressive. Do they think that all of this death is necessary? Its bad business. The more one tries to bury a secret, the more that truth will rise to the surface. It seems so funny to me. When i first set foot within the walls of Middenheim, i thought of nothing but taking the power of its Underworld for my own. I had no inkling of how literal that goal was to become.
Now it is clear what i must do, i shall.....
