Day: Unknown
Time: Likely past noon based on Hysh’s position
Location: Somewhere deep inside the Furyoth Dell
Status: Dirty, bloody, but alive
“My greatest accomplishment is within my grasp. Pity that no one shall know Larisa Melborn’s name outside the worms, the Gods, and bloodthirsty savages.
“It has been weeks since my party set out from Kandahar in search of the fallen Seraphon Temple. We delved into the Furyoth Dell pristine in our mission for Celestite and knowledge. And in a moment it was nearly lost.
Ambushed we were at the hands of Blood Warriors of Khorne. Butchered and ripped to pieces, the Iron Bloods spared none but myself, a craven at the end unwilling to die for a cause. Olly’s dying eyes as he was torn apart by the flesh hounds will always haunt me. I should have died with him, but my loose tongue divulged our mission and is likely the only reason that has kept me alive. Though why these barbarians keep me captive eludes me.
I should be deceased with my former friends whom I betray with every breath I take. Yet I cannot deny my heart’s desire to uncover what I seek: the knowledge and prestige of uncovering a lost city, even if I am the only one to bask in the glory.
Strange that the Khornite weaponsmith, Irox, seems to understand. Since my capture, we’ve shared some…peculiar conversations. I shall not share the heresy he speaks about his War God, but he is surprisingly wise about the struggles of mortal plight. He acknowledges his quest to create a weapon of unfathomable destruction for Khorne may result in his demise, but it’s his desire for legacy and force of will that keeps him going. Quite an odd point of view that I sickly find common with my own.
Just as surprising is how much progress The Iron Bloods have made delving deeper into the Furyoth Dell than I anticipated. They are a determined, crafty, and ruthless warband led by their no-nonsense leader, Lord Varon Skullhunter. And yet he is overruled at times by Irox. There is some spiritual power struggle between both figures, though more often than not Lord Varon relents to the Weaponsmith. I sense he holds something precious over the Mighty Lord of Khorne.
I typically stick close to these two. Most of the Iron Bloods would gleefully spill my blood in a heartbeat if not for Irox. The massive armored brute named Koabla Khai has ambition and frightens me most of all. They mock me and refer to me as “Khorne’s scribe.” What use does the Blood God has for the written word when the only language he understands and wants is blood?
Recently we uncovered what we initially thought was Xarlanth, the lost seraphon city, but instead was just a piece of the city’s wreckage. This Shattered Temple proved dangerous to explore, almost sentient in how its defenses stopped the Iron Bloods from further exploration. But Lord Varon is not one for games. He boldly marched through the Temple’s defenses and booby traps without relenting.
He eventually stumbled upon and slew a Tzeentch sorcerer before his manipulative machinations could manifest. From its corpse, blood urged Varon to follow the flow to a hidden door. Inside was a seraphon artifact, a golden statue in the image of their slaan. Whenever one of us grasped it, visions displayed in our minds of events yet to pass.
Most of the warriors including Varon spoke of a temple drowned in blood and flames, the sound of an anvil being hammered, and the skies red in fury. I snuck a grape and received a troubling vision. My hands were filled with gore, a blade in my hand, and bodies all around me. A creature with sharp yellow eyes stared at me with hungering intentions. I’m unsure what the situation was, but I’m scared to admit that person is likely what I may become should I linger with these barbarians.
Unfortunately, our exploration of the Shattered Temple lasted barely two blasted days. I had made progress in studying and deciphering the seraphon temple, but the Iron Bloods had tampered enough of the temple’s devices that triggered an explosion. The temple was ripped apart as we barely escaped. The blast activated an ancient realmgate hidden within the ruins. It wasn’t long before other warbands and armies began emerging. The ruins soon became a battlefield and any quest for further knowledge was lost. Curiously but wisely, Varon and Iron ordered the Iron Bloods to withdraw after some clashes. Our warband would not have likely survived. Irox would tell me later their mission was bigger than spilling some blood of unnamed, worthless krell.
We now slog forward through the mucky jungle that we scholars at Khardihr mapped as the Passage Fen. The stillwater at times comes up to our bellies, the canopy is so thick that sunlight can barely penetrate, and mud so hostile that one blood maniac has been swallowed whole. And yet the most pressing threat is the fauna of the Dell who track us. Day and night, beady eyes peer through the darkness, from the water, even the canopy above us. We are an invasive species encroaching upon their territory. Koubla Khai has led several hunts and detailed how strange the ecosystem here is. Khai even claims to have spotted several cloaked Slag-haulers, though his blade has failed thus far to taste their flesh.
Not for nothing, this is Ghur. It’s a realm where you are either the hunter or the hunted. Fortunately, my captors are great at killing and scavenging. Scores of fauna in this jungle have been felled by Khorne’s butchers and repurposed to upgrade their arms and armour. Irox surprisingly even gave me a jagged-tusk dagger from a sabertooth’s tusk. I dread to use it, but it is tied closely to my belt should one of the Iron Bloods lose themselves.
Or should Ghur turn its attention to me.
For now, we press on. The Iron Bloods’ quest for Xarlanth and its Celestite will not be sated until they are killed, everything else is dead, or Irox succeeds in forging this weapon of power. I will continue to observe and decipher what we come across.
May Sigmar protect me from the bloodthirst that creeps into my blood. Whether it’s due to Khorne, Ghur, or both, I’m afraid to find out.
