A song of Ice and Dice

 From the journal of Johanna Schwarz, Witch hunter general 3. Sigmarzeit, 2500 With Hierkeit marching eastward, ostensibly to search  for the Dark master’s lair on our behalf, along with her vile, sacrilegious retinue, we slunk back to the city. The entire region is in peril now, as Salzenmund’s defense against the undead is gone. War will be on our doorsteps soon, and our defenses must be prepared. This is certainly no time for the Baron to be off playing at being an admiral. In his absence – and possibly even in his presence? – the dowager Baroness is the power of the land, so we seek an audience. Thankfully, my recently acquired rank means she is amenable to talk. It is interesting to finally meet a person we’ve heard of for quite a long time. Immediately, she seems formidable, and quite different from her son. Where he is effusive, boisterous and full of self-indulgent charm, she’s short, clipped and incisive, with a penetrating gaze that seems to know more than she lets o...

From the journal of Johanna Schwarz, Witch Hunter General 27. Pflugzeit, 2500 I sometimes wonder whether those who have succumbed to the corrupting influences of the forces of chaos at one time imagined themselves heroes, fighting for what is true and right. Lady Hierkeit, for one. Was she a stalwart witch hunter before she was turned into a blood-sucking monstrosity? Did she imagine that gaining the power of the undead would enable her to better fight the enemies of the empire? Did she enter the dark pact willingly, thinking she could do more good than harm? And at what point does the end goal – to save humanity from the dark forces, fade into the background, and the thirst for ever more power take over? Was it a gradual process, or is it a sudden epiphany? I hope never to find out, but the more I learn about the malevolent forces gnawing at the structure of our world, the more I can see how insidious the promise of power can be. For do we not all yearn for power, when confronte...

Ahhh, guard duty in the winter wonderland that is Salzenmund. The Inquisitor General might have numerous enemies, but they are disappointingly timid or are taking the winter off. Thank Ulric it is so endlessly stimulating listening to people argue about stuff, or watch them read. Otherwise I might start a cult myself, just to have some heretics to "fix". I guess this is not a proper thought, and I am not really contemplating it. But by all the gods, old an new, I AM SO BORED. In prison there were at least fights. Speaking of fights, to fight the boredom, I have started training on some techniques I saw demonstrated in the regiment. The goal is to keep momentum to such an extent that you can ignore your opponents defense. Control the post contact swing so well that your next blow lands so quickly that you do not have to consider whatever your opponent is doing at all, as whatever he attempts will be nullified by the second hit. It is very hard, especially with the axe, but I a...

 Winter in Salzenmund All is quiet and all is still. Snow is coming down like big white napkins. Piles and piles of it gathered everywhere. Everything is frozen. The once grueling threat of a Norscan rider invasion is gone with it. Too much snow and ice has apparently dissuaded my old fellow citizens. They dare not go in over the ice.  A pity. I would have loved standing up on the city walls, giving them a warm welcome. A warm Aqshy welcome. Quite a sight it would have been. A nice sight with great burning ships and Norscan raiders alike. All huddled together, forming perfect funeral pyres. This kind of warm cuddly thinking is what gets me through these cold months and I confess it brings a smile to my face thinking about it every time.  However, I always loved winter. A paradox, I know, given my warm inner fire but I spent my childhood huddling around big bonfires, constantly feeding them, harnessing the heat and kindling the flames to keep sweet Sunniva and me warm...

 From the journal of Johanna Schwarz: The most insidious aspect of the forces of chaos is how they wither all they touch, their destructive power working long after their agents are vanquished. Malice was gone, at last, but her corruption was not. As we gathered in the wasteland that was once Dunkelkeifer, we could feel her vengeful breath breathing down our necks from beyond the grave. Both Johann and Eldur were pale and sick, ready to collapse at any point. We were all wounded, but their wounds showed the sickly tinge of blood rot. I’ve seen it before, after large battles, and many are the soldiers who have survived a hard battle, only to die in pain in bed days later. And Viktor was gone. Making makeshift sleds to lay our wounded comrades on, we made our way to the camp the villagers of Wulfhaven. They were many of them in bad shape, but cheered us as heroes for dispelling the evil pall that had cursed the land. Surveying the wounded and sick, we decided to seek refuge in one of...