Journal of Sigric Vogel, student and adventurer:
Aubentag, Pflugzeit 1st
We returned to our inn in the morning (the innkeeper was understandably reluctant to admit us last night). When we did we discovered that the goblin was caught some time after we entered the sewers in a warehouse. This either means there were two three-legged goblins in this town, or there is something strange going on here.
Erwin was badly beaten up after the encounter with the daemon, but somehow he survived. I must admit I’m finding it quite gratifying patching up my comrades, it helps make up for my limited combat skills. Perhaps I should consider a career in medicine?
Our inquiries around the town proved fruitless. The Verenian temple library held little of value, no one official was willing to exchange much more than pleasantries, and the only one seemed at all concerned that there were mutants and daemons rampaging around under the town was the judge at the festival court. And he fell ill. Merriella and Erwin tell me it looked like some kind of black magic; I suppose I should see for myself. Apparently he was muttering “Ordo Septimus” to himself, most mysterious.
Morrslieb has grown large, too large for this season. And there is some kind of face appearing on its surface. Something very dark is at work here.
Marktag, Pflugzeit 2nd
I took a look at the stricken judge. It’s definitely a form of magical brain fever, we alerted the local physicians, but they lack the ingredients. Apparently Bogenhafen has a history with this disease, a notable merchant scion died of it some years ago, but it was never diagnosed. The “Ordo Septimus” is apparently a local merchant consortium, but their modus operandi seems very sucpicious.
Morrslieb looks worse, it preys on my mind, this is unnatural and nothing associated with the Chaos Moon bodes well for Sigmar-fearing men.
Backertag, Pflugzeit 3rd
The “Ordo Septimus” held a secret meeting tonight, Curt, Corvin and I went to check it out, it looked like a pretty standard secret society meeting from what little we could see.
Morrslieb looks larger and, more evil than last night, and that scarcely seems possible. Why is there no panic? Why aren’t the public fleeing? I fear we will see Mordheim come again, but none of these foolish townsmen seem at all worried!
Bezahltag, Pflugzeit 4th
The Schaffenfest came to an end today, and Friedrich Magerius invited us to lunch! Apparently this whole “Ordo Septimus” issue is just a misunderstanding! The popinjay spun some story about the order being a legitimate merchant consortium which relies on secrecy to maintain its cohesion, but I’m not buying it, his order is nothing more than a chaos cult, or perhaps they are just dupes for some other eminence grise, but either way they are not to be trusted, it was all I could do to avoid denouncing him on the spot. Not that it would do any good, this whole town and its leadership are tainted.
1st pflugzeit we went back to the inn after spending a night washing the smell of other peoples excrement of ourselves apparently someone else caught the three legged gobbo, but I think someones lying so they don’t have to pay us but we will see about that.
we had a look around town but didnt find out anything really interesting but the moon is getting bigger ponsy keeps muttering/shouting that the moon is going to eat us…. quite excitable that chap but kinda funny tho and he keeps the surplus holes stitched up.
2nd pflugzeit ponsy had a poke around at the judge sccribbled stuff down, talked some gibberesh and kept muttering about the moon eating us … fun day
3rd pflugzeit went to spy on the meeting being held by the “ordo sumthing or other” .... nothing happened got splinters from climbing a fence… not so fun day
4th pflugzeit some extra ponsy guy offered us breakfast today said something about the “ordo” being just a innocent group of merchants, this sound like a load of horse apples to me but he did buy us a nice meal and the cutlery was real metal none of that wooden stuff that made is extra suspicious too bloody rich by a half he’s up to something without a doubt.