From the diary of Hans Grunwald:

[kojibear]

I think'est thee troop is doomed At least Hans scored some points by acknowledging the spyglass came from his father in law. Well done!

Great stuff Yellowstreak.

[job]

I love your writing and the expressions you use! Keep it up.

Before he could even say a word the sharp retort of flintloque cut through the dull drumbeat of rain, turning all heads back towards whence schtump had come.

I love it.

[YellowStreak]

My dearest Averline,

It has been some weeks since I have been able to touch quille to parchment and record my thoughts in this journal as we have been steadily on the march. A march that I fear I am somewhat responsible for...but that is a story for the future.

I must not get ahead of myself. We had heard the sound of the rest of our company fighting for their lives in the rain-soaked plain below, and the troop and I were steadily proceeding down the mountainside, More in a fast trot rather than at a gallop, as despite the calamity unfolding below us, to have galloped wouldst have sent us all to see Morr. The desperate hoof-falls of our mounts drove before us a small avalanche of loose rocks as they threatened to lose their purchase on the rocky slope at any moment.

The din of battle was becoming clearer over the drumming of rain on my burgonet and the clattering of my close-following troop. We could clearly hear the clash of steel and the screams of man and horse and the occasional deep bellow that sounded not unlike the dancing Kiselvite bear we saw in the show last winter.

At last we reached level ground and I ordered the men to draw steel and remove their flintloques from their oilskins. We charged through the woodland path, now at full gallop, the rain streaming from our armour as our war cries mixed with the booming thunder overhead.
I must guiltily admit to the sin of pride, pride in my troop having negotiated the rocky mountain path and pride that not one man hesitated before drawing steel and charging, not one man sought to lollygag at the rear but they didst all jostle for a place in the vanguard. As thoust are of the fairer sex, tis hard to describe the bloodlust that can envelop even the most timid or mild-mannered of men. the way it can tunnel the vision and dull the senses even as it heightens them. It was, I suspect, this 'tunnelling' of vision that mayhaps prevented us from seeing the dark shapes lurking in the woods as be barrelled down the path towards the plain.
Do you remember Ulsmitch, the priest of Morr we helped during the last plague? He once warned me that
"Pride goeth before a fall" and his words have rung in my ears for weeks now. For mayhaps I hadst ne'er heard such truth before, but I was blind to it until that day.

Hurtling through the woods, we rounded the last bend before the plain. I was first around the corner and can recall seeing several dismounted troops, bleeding and beaten, running our direction. I can clearly recall the terror in the bloodied faces, their eyes white with fear and panic.

Barely did I have a chance to try and call out to them when the path was blocked by an immense figure. I can not recall even the roughest detail about the creature, save it's immense size, as my eyes couldst not be torn from the massive cannon it held in it bear hands, the blackened mouth of which seemed large enough to swallow me, mount and all.
There was an deafening sound, like all the thunder in the heavens booming as one, a flash brighter than the sun on the brightest summer day and all went dark.

[job]

Nicely done again. I really enjoy your penchant for the parlance of the time and your good expressions and descriptions:

The din of battle was becoming clearer over the drumming of rain on my burgonet and the clattering of my close-following troop. We could clearly hear the clash of steel and the screams of man and horse and the occasional deep bellow that sounded not unlike the dancing Kiselvite bear we saw in the show last winter.

[Tenorikuma]

Wonderful as usual.

[kojibear]

Great work Yellowstreak! Your fans await more

You have a knack for setting pace and good description!

[YellowStreak]

My dearest Averline,

This next part of my tale is difficult to tell, and mayhaps more than should be exposed to one of the fairer sex. Nonetheless, in order to honour the men who perished that fateful day I feel I should commit their tale to paper. Thou art stronger in constitution and more steady in composure than most females, although what I write next may yet be upsetting.
Mayhaps have your brother, dear Leopold, read what follows and make the decision of whether this part of the take is suitable for a lady's ears. I feel I am no longer in a place to judge, such has my world been tipp'ed quite turvy-topsy.

We had ridden hard down the treacherous slope and galloped to the aid of our compatriots under assault from the as-yet-unseen enemy. Rounding the final bend, a huge shape stepped into my path and levelled a cannon so large it wouldst turn a Nuln-ese gunner green with envy!

I truly do not know what happened next. My dearest, you know I have never been the most faithful believer. I pay the Temple-tithe and have attended worship with you on high mass, but I never really felt Sigmar, Ulric nor even Morr or Ranald really paid much attention to the lives of men.

But mayhaps t'was Sigmar protecting me, mayhaps t'was Ranald dealing me the cruel card of survival, mayhaps t'was nothing more than pure chance, but blossom (as you named her), my faithful steed that had ne'er thrown a shoe nor slipped or taken a wrong step in all her years of service did that day stumble at just that moment.

As I pitched crown-first unto the hard earth of the roadside, a fury of flame and grape-shotte erupted above me. Before I had even hit the ground, dear blossom and the first rank of the troop who had been tight in my wake were shredded into a mass of blood and bone, man and beast intermingled in a bloody cloud.

As I lay by the roadside dazed, I can recall more of the beasts emerging from the woods, their deep-throated laughs echoing as they re-ignited their cannone and cut swathes through the remainder of my troop and the surrounding woodland.

My vision blurry, head swimming and ears ringing from the cacophony assaulting them, I could do nought by watch as my troop was decimated by blast after blast. Not a man nor mount survived the onslaught.

It was at this point, as my vision began to clear, that I finally got a look at our mysterious enemy. Enormous beasts they were, shaped like men but standing near twice the height of a large man and more than thrice as broad! They stood bare-chested, easily hefting the weight of full-size cannone as I would hold my hunting blunderbuss. There could be no doubt 'twas worse than we had feared, this was no raid of scavenging greenskins, nor even the twisted beastmen, but Ogres.

Ogres! I had seen one in Altdorf once, serving with the local militia. As enormous and powerful as that creature was, it seemed somewhat innocent and child-like in it's demeanor; when not touched by drink; and more akin to a man than these monsters before me. But it had been properly dressed in the proud red and white of Altdorf, while those who towered above me were bare-chested like travelling show strong-men and covered with cannone-ash and the splattered the remains of my troop.

As I stirred, they noticed my survival and the closest brute plucked me up by the head and neck as easily as one may lift a stunned hare. Struggling as the monsterous hand squeezed the life from me, I realized that I was still clutching a pistolle in my left hand! As my vision swam and darkness began to engulf me for what I was certain was the last time, I raised my weapon and fired into the face of the monstrous brute, crying your fair name so it would be the last word utter'd from my lips...

[Tenorikuma]

Riveting!

[job]

Great work! Again you've done a great job capturing the right language. I was also very engaged.

It was at this point, as my vision began to clear, that I finally got a look at our mysterious enemy. Enormous beasts they were, shaped like men but standing near twice the height of a large man and more than thrice as broad! They stood bare-chested, easily hefting the weight of full-size cannone as I would hold my hunting blunderbuss. There could be no doubt 'twas worse than we had feared, this was no raid of scavenging greenskins, nor even the twisted beastmen, but Ogres.

My dwarves know this sight! eep!

[YellowStreak]

My dearest Averline,

These days I often ponder the strangeness of chance. I once heard a man in Middenheim, orating to the assembled crowd from atop a turnip-box who promulgated that the gods do not love us at all, but merely play with us as a child with it's toys. He proclaimed they engineer our misfortune and plot our sorrows for their own amusement.
The crowd were not kind to him, sending him on his way, pelted with his own turnips. At the time I merely smirked as his words or troubles meant little to me, but now i consider mayhaps he spoke some sliver of truth, as surely my predicament couldst not be the result of chance alone, but mayeth only be explained as the cruel amusement of some twisted power?

It has been some time since I have been able to update this journal, as my captors keep us contantly on the move. There is some irony in this ignominy of being captive to these brutish creatures as I have seen sights I dreamed of as a child, such as a host of the forest-folk, the woode-elves, arrayed for battle and the might of the doughty dwarves of the mountains, bearing mighty rune-encrusted hammers into the fray. Alas, although my childhood dreams had be fighting alongside and befriending these near-mythical folk, the reality has seen me facing their fury and anger as the Ogre horde has rampaged across the verdant countryside.

The most recent clash was against such creatures the like of which I'd ne'er heard: lizards! Lizards of all shapes and sizes, walking on their hind-legs in the manner of men! Not only walking, but incredibly bearing shield and sword into battle!
But barely did I get the change to lay my gaze upon these wondrous creatures before the Ogre horde charge'd, a destructive avalanche of flesh, scattering all before them. My captors did sup well that night, and forgiveth me Sigmar, so did I....

To my surprise the tender meat was not unlike chicken...