Norscan Fate Teaser

After the Bloody Summer defending Praag our commanders deemed our unit in need of lighter duties… to give our minds ease. The carnage that ensued in Praag after Khorne’s appetite was awaken was horrendous; the weak of mind went mad and wandered off into the Northern Wastes never to be seen again. We witnessed bloodshed on a scale unseen; however, we were still soldiers. So our unit followed the River Lynsk south to Erengrad and then commandeered a vessel to take us to the northern outpost of the realm of civilized men – Norsca. Our commander assured us that the struggle in these harsh lands would be easier on seasoned soldiers like ourselves. We were to keep an eye on the weak-willed Norse and make sure the Raven Host made no great inroads in this dreary region.

Our outpost was on the outskirts of some plague-stricken town by the name of Gotland. The villages were infested with savage Norse men and women seeking to join the Raven Host, and it was our job to suppress their foolish thoughts. Every now and then we would bring in a villager and interrogate him – some needed more coaxing than others. “Elements of the Raven Host in that village,” or, “My village elder is the vessel of Tzeentch,” – false reports not worthy of our time. That was until one night late into Autumn… that night changed everything.

Late one night a patrol came back with a savage bound by chains raving like a mad man. He’d bit one of the younger lads; the wound was festering and driving the lad into a feverish delirium. As the sergeant of the watch I called the officer on duty, some noble’s bastard spawn seeking honor, and we approached the man who closer resembled a rabid beast.

“And from where does this beast come?” asked the officer.
“We picked him up north by the river towards Thorshafn,” the sergeant of the patrol replied.
“What ails you man? Do the Chaos powers possess you? From what village do you come?” the officer spurted question after question, giving the name no time to reply.
The creature hung his head low rattling the chains that bound him.
The sergeant of the patrol landed a heavy blow on the creature’s head with his spear-staff sending the creature to his knees. “Answer the officer, foul spawn!”

The savage begun to laugh an unearthly laugh and looked up at the officer piercing the officer’s body with his bloodshot eyes. He then lunged at the officer knocking him to the ground and began to bite at him with a bestial ferocity unknown to civilized men. A dozen spears went into the man’s body; he rolled off the officer, revealing a sickening bloody smile and with his last breath said through those bloody teeth, “Khorne hasn’t forgotten, Blood for the Blood God.” With those words the blood left every man’s face leaving us specters in the Norscan night.

It was a bloody nightmare happening all over again…

~ Jurgen Kuper, Sergeant of the Altdorf Volunteer Regiment