From the diary of Hans Grunwald:

[YellowStreak]

My dearest Averline, I write this diary entry not knowing if you will ever read it. Indeed, I know not whether I shall ever see your face again, nor even if I should survive to see the sun rise on the morrow.
Mayhaps I should start at the beginning, so best to illuminate how I have come to find myself in such dire straits.

It began the morning after you left to see your mother in Altdorf. Oh if only I had gone with you as you had asked! How different my fate would have been!

The cornet from the second troop came racing into our yard to call me to arms. We were being mustered to march east immediately to investigate the tales of monstrous creatures raiding the outlying townnes and villages.
By the time I reached the HQ the men were armed, armoured and ready. How they gleamed in their polished demi-armour, sabres sharpened and flintloques oiled and ready! As fine a sight as anywhere in the Empire!
Their spirits remained high as we departed, the men were confident that we would soon see off any 'monsters' with shotte and steel. Their enthusiasm remained intact over the next few days as we rode for the mountains and the town of Hagendorf, which had been most recently attacked. Most of the men had fought those goblins last summer and we expected the greenskinned vermin had returned for another trouncing!

But it was as we approached Hagendorf that things began to change. Firstly the young subaltern, Franz, took off after a rabbit and was thrown from his horse when it stumbled. The poor lad broke his neck, dying instantly, and the horse had to be put down. As dark clouds began to gather overhead, the men began to grumble that this was a bad omen. Oh, if only they had known what was to come!

The village was a ruin, the poor inhabitants brutally murdered or driven off into the woods. The doors to almost every building had been smashed from their hinges and from the inhumanly large footprints that criss-crossed the village centre, it became clear that this was not the work of goblins...

It is getting too dark to write, I must continue this tale on the morrow, should I survive that long...

[kojibear]

I love first person. A very difficult POV to do well. Awesome stuff mate!

Definitely not goblins...nope, nope, nope.

[Tenorikuma]

Brilliantly written. I'm looking forward to the next entry in poor Hans's journal.

[YellowStreak]

From the diary of Hans Grunwald:
My dearest Averline, although exhaustion threatens to rob me of consciousness, I feel I must continue to write and record my fate in the slim chance that one day thoust will read these words, or mayhaps the even slimmer chance that I, by Sigmar's grace, should survive this ordeal.

We had entered Hagendorf and observed the handiwork of the enemy. As the men dismounted to search for survivors, the Captain called me to his side to discuss the devastation that surrounded us. It is hard to describe, but the destruction looked more like that caused by a storm than by an army; almost random in its brutality. Where one building may have been terribly damaged, windows smashed and holes ripped through the walls; it's neighbour may sit almost untouched, cold meats, bread and half-empty ale tankards still sitting peacefully upon the dinner-table.

As you know my dearest, I am no stranger to conflict, having not only fought the dreaded greenskinned Goblins two summers past, but serving as a drummer boy in my youth in battles against the Dwarves and Kiselvites. But even for one such as I, what we saw in Hagendorf turned the stomach and rendered us speechless. I shall not write the details of the horrors as thou art of the fairer sex and I wouldst not want to upset your delicate constitution.

The state of the townne and its folk had differing effects on the men as well. Where a first man's stomach was turned and he cried unabashedly to the heavens, a second man's heart was filled with rage and he demanded we seek these monsters and put them to the sword posthaste.

Our mood was soured even further by the unseasonable storm clouds that gathered overhead, but perhaps they were a gift from Morr, as the deluge that erupted from their inky blackness cooled some tempers within the troop and cleansed some of the horror of that unfortunate village.

I had ordered the Cornet and Corporal of Horse to begin rounding up the troop; having spent more time than I would ever wish in that cursed place; when Trooper Schtump came galloping in from the Western picket. 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. As he babbled about giant monsters, it became clear he had all but lost his nerve. I ordered the troop to draw steel and follow me to the Western flank of the village to face our foe. I can clearly remember the fury that I felt and the clear certainty that whatever awaited us would soon fall before our wrath of steel and shotte as we avenged Hagendorf.

How wrong I was.

I must end this entry, they return...

[kojibear]

I shall not write the details of the horrors as thou art of the fairer sex and I wouldst not want to upset your delicate constitution.

Best not try that one on Elarelle

Great stuff mate! Keep it coming!

[ashmie]

I enjoyed reading these. Thanks. Just what I needed after a shitty day at work.

[The Underdweller]

Interesting approach! I guess I shouldn't hold out too much hope for poor Hans...

[YellowStreak]

From the diary of Hans Grunwald:
My dearest Averline,
It has been some days since I have been able to record events in this diary. I suppose I should thank Sigmar that I have been left this simple pleasure, but I expect the reasons lay less with the gods and more with my captors profound disinterest in the written word.

I was writing of Hagendorf, that unfortunate cursed townne, whose inhabitants had met an awful grisly fate.
Under a leaden sky in the downpour We had begun rounding up the troop. Despite the inclement weather, not a man among us wished to shelter within Hagendorf and the decision had been made to push on on to the next village.

As Trooper Schtump, a barely adequate trooper at the best of times, came galloping into the square, babbling about monsters we heard the sounds of gunne-fire from the West. Not missing a beat, the Captain ordered us to draw steel and follow him.

As one we galloped towards the commotion, the troopers jostling for position in the narrow street of the townne, like armoured jockeys on derby day. I was to the rear of the troop, not my usual position I assure you, but the Captain had ordered me to rear to ensure discipline amongst the men and in case of ambush by our as-yet unseen enemy.

By the time I reached the western approach, the troop had fanned out across the roadway and into the fields surrounding the townne, but had stopped a short way outside the rickety wooden fence that denoted the townne boundary.

Surprised by the inactivity, I moved up past the troop towards the Captain, and only then I saw the remains of the picket. The Captain looked at me grimly as I gazed at the remains of both men and horse, mangled beyond recognition. In fact it took me a moment to realize the bloodied remains were comprised of not one, but both of the missing pickets, each torn limb from limb.

However, of the enemy there was no sign...

[Tenorikuma]

I like Hans' spelling quirks. ("Townne") Good stuff, really feels like an old diary.

[YellowStreak]

From the diary of Hans Grunwald:
My dearest Averline,
Last night I dreamt I was in Altdorf, do'est you recall I told you of my trip there as a youth? I was serving the Graf von Biermann as a sword-boy. I can vividly recall seeing the assembled ranks of the Knights Panther, their armour gleaming in the sun; the light reflecting as if upon a looking-glass; and knowing, knowing in my bones, that surely nothing could stand against the martial might of man.

Now I wonder if anything can possibly save us should the forces of brutality and darkness seek to ravage our lands.

These creatures seem more akin to a force of nature, a storm or flood, than an army of flesh and bone. I apologize, my sweet, for the dark tone. These days there is little to cheer me and all seems bleak.

I must continue with my tale, lest the story be forever lost and left untold. This diary has become more than a
message for you my dear, but it is a final record of the fate of my troop, and quite probably, myself. I must record what has happened so that the families of the men may not be left to wonder the final fate of their sons, brothers and husbands.

We had assembled on the western edge of Hagendorf to find the remains of our picket. I could see for many of the troop; green as they were; the bravado that had accompanied them when we set out had long fled and been replaced with the white face of fear. Our Captain looked equally grim as he took me aside and we decided our next move.

From the west of Hagendorf the road splits in three - with one path following the river, a second snaking into the nearby woods and the last climbing sharply into the nearby mountain ranges. Although I thought it unwise, the Captain ordered the troop in split into thirds, with each group of men to follow a different path and signal with a single shotte shouldst the enemy be located.

In my heart, as much as I wished vengeance for those poor folke of Hagendorf, I felt that awaiting the end of the downpour and giving the men a chance to gather themselves to be prudent course of action, but to my shame my thoughts went unuttered lest the Captain suspect my counsel was the result of cowardice rather then caution.

The Captain took a third of the troop towards the swirling riverside, while the Corporal of Horse took a third towards the woods. I gathered my men and we headed into the cloud shrouded mountains, taking care with our mounts as the narrow pathway had become a tiny river as the rainfall raced down the mountain flanks.

The going was slow and in many places the troop were forced to ride single file. As the storm continued to rage, every time thunder boomed overhead we stopped and strained our ears to listen for a warning shotte from the rest of the troop.

When we finally reached a plateau that allowed the troop to reform. With no sign of the enemy so far, I ordered a dismount and had the men double check their equipment and flintloques. I retrieved my telescope from my saddlebag, the one your father gifted me last winterfall, and peered down into the valley, straining for a glimpse of Hagendorf.

It was at this time thunder boomed once again, or so I thought. But the first echoing boom was quickly followed by others - the unmistakable sound of a cannon battery firing. As I peered through the rain to the valley below I could make out the ghostly figures of horsemen and flashes of light from the flaming tongues of flintloques. The troop was under attack! Faint echoes of yelling and screaming began to reach our ears. I peered desperately through the eyepiece, trying to understand who was attacking. Who could possibly have manhandled cannon through sodden fields? It seemed impossible!

As the rain closed in again I ordered the troop to mount, and head back down the treacherous mountain pass as fast as our mounts could carry us...