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Gummypaints
03-09-2009, 14:59
Wormslayer - The Atherton Beast.

As seems to be the tradition with a lot of publishers these days – probably more to sell copies of previously published and royalty free work than actual demand- I have been approached by Altdorf Press to add a short, additional piece of non-fiction about my travels with Gotrek to accompany this new Omnibus edition of the book that you now have in your hands. Time, space and deadlines had meant that many of our short adventures together had had to be left out from those earlier editions, but many had been omitted simply because I considered them the perilous occurrences of what travelling with my illustrious companion entailed on a day-to-day basis. Others I had just simply forgotten. However, recently a landlord that I had once rented a rather dry and lofty room from rediscovered one of my old note books hidden behind a stack of shelves. I like to think that he came to my new house because of the decency with which I had always treated him and the rent that I had always paid him on time, and not because he thought being a published author I would have money throw at him for its safe return ! However, I still paid him a finders fee for his troubles, and then foolishly doubled it when he complained about what the rain he had endured in coming to see me was doing to his creaking joints and aching bones.

I spent the next few evenings in vain reading and re-reading my notes – by candle light and taking my meals in my room - trying to remember just when and where these little anecdotes fitted in with my many prior exploits, but alas I cannot truthfully pinpoint them. So, I have no option other than to let the reader use their own imagination and let them themselves give the piece its own timeline.

Gotrek and myself had stumbled I across an inn called the ‘Middle Wicket’, and though I then and even now still have no idea as to what the name really referred to, someone did once tell me a relate to me fanciful yarn that it was with reference to a ball-game that country-folk took nearly a week to play! Sometimes there is alot to be said about the sanity of city life!
Anyhow, it was early Spring, the late snow just beginning to turn into that muddy brown sludge that everyone hates, and things were once again just about to take an unexpected but usual turn for the worst.........................

From ‘My Travels With Gotrek’ the Omnibus Edition, By Herr Feilx Jaeger (AP)



If there was one thing to get a drunken Slayer interested in anything whilst hammering down innumerable beers, it was the mention of lost treasures, monsters and the doom of all the foolish people that had gone before - and an equally inebriated individual seemed to be pulling all of Gotrek’s strings thought Felix Jaeger. Would it be that they could just have sat and relaxed next to the comforting warmth of the logs burning on the hearth of the small tavern in silence and put both their troubles of the last few weeks behind them and warmed the chilblains on Felix’s feet that his colleague never seemed to get even when walking bare-footed. But no, some raggedy old wart covered lame brain, with skin like a piece of dried fruit and going by the name of Oddpepper had come and joined them, who claimed to be from a nearby village called Atherton. Through puffs on his long and carved and wooden pipe he had started some ridiculous yarn that had wound Gotrek in like an angler with a prize catch.

“So, it’s just still waiting there”, concluded the aged man, a constant smile creasing the left side of his face which was pulled up and disfigured from the scar that ran up his cheek and under his leather eye patch. Maybe that was what Gotrek had found so captivating thought Felix, some other individual with an eye missing. Then he just as quickly discounted the idea, knowing that the Slayer Dwarf had just as frequently lobbed of the head, arms and even sometimes tentacles of other one-eyed beings that had crossed his path in the past. He also knew that it was not the call of the unknown, the helping of poor and hapless villagers or the hoard of gold and diamonds supposedly resting and waiting for someone to take it that drew Gotrek’s attention. No, it was quite simply the fact that this decrepit character had used the word ‘Doom’ in his tale.

Gotrek lifted one of the many battered and dented tankards from the equally battered and dented table to his side and poured the entire vessel down his throat, the frothy ale leaving a foam on his bearded mouth. Then slamming the mug back on the table he leaned forwards towards the story teller, looked him up and down from muddy and worn trapper boots to the stained and soiled cloaked that was wrapped around his shoulders, and burst into laughter.

“One dwarf with one axe and one hour would end you and your village’s little problems. You humans”, he laughed again, “you’re all just as scared of your own shadows as you are of what is probably in that cave”.

Oddpepper didn’t respond, he just stood there puffing on his pipe and shaking his bald head in silence, as if knowing something that the other two didn’t.
Felix knew from past experience – well hoped actually - that Gotrek had been referring to humans in general and not to himself, for in agreeing to stay with the dwarf and record his glorious demise they had shared many perilous adventures that he felt he had more than proved himself on many occasions. But, then again, the Slayer more than often tended to think and talk with his dwarven-heart prior to thinking with his mind, which had also gotten them into more bar-room brawls and given him more bruised ribs than he cared to remember. He was about to say something himself to Gotrek about the need to be off in the next few days to their agreed rendezvous with the trader that had agreed to give them room and food on his convoy of caravans in exchange for their protection against the thieves and bandits that plagued the area, when Gotrek turned and spoke to him.

“Well Manling,” said Gotrek, “I think I shall take care of ails of this village”.

Brief and as usual to the point thought Felix, also noticing Gotrek using the singular and not the plural which suited him just fine, though he knew he would have to follow him and record any heroic event. He hoped that that elderly man’s village was in the opposite direction on the road they were travelling on and too far away for them to make the trip there, but also having the ominous suspicion that he would lose a large amount of money on it if he were a betting man.

“No, no, I don’t think you understand” said Oddpepper. “Many a dwarf – even once a Slayers such as yourself – have come and tried to kill the beast or lure it from its cavern without success. And only the Slayer ever came back”.

“There is no other Slayer like me” replied Gotrek picking up his rune encrusted axe from the table and running his thumb along its sharp edge. A scarlet bead of blood ran down his skin into the palm of his hand showing just how sharp the blade was honed to. “Tell me, what happened to this other Slayer. Why did he not take his glorious end fighting the very beast he set out to kill”

“He melted”.

“Dwarfs do not melt!” Stated Gotrek with all the adamance of and pride of the fore bearers of his race standing heavily but proudly on his enormously broad and well muscled tattooed shoulders.

“This one did”, responded Oddpepper seemingly complete unfazed by the fierce and angry looking armed dwarf seated in front of him. “His flesh just slipped from his bones and puddled around his feet. I do not really see how else I can explain it to you”.

“Melted?” asked Felix, for even he was curious now and he could see that Oddpepper telling Gotrek that his kin had simply turned into a gooey soup was not going to placate his travelling companion. He had seen alot of death on his travels with Gotrek, but someone actually liquifying was even bizarre to his own standards of strangeness.

The old man took another puff and breathed another lung-full of pungent green-gray smoke out into the room. Though it smelled quite odd, Felix thought it did not smell the ‘laughing’ weed he had come across before, probably just a local grass or something that community used to substitute the expensive tobaccos from Altdorf.

Oddpepper, shifted his stance as though he felt a little uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “Well, about a week after the Slayer, oh, what was his name?”, he rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin and then started picking at one of the warts on his flat stubby nose as if appearing to think hard before continuing, the glint of a gold ring on one of his fingers catching the light off the flames of the fire. “Ah, yes, Stegris. Stegris, that was his name I’m sure of it”.

“Never heard of him” interrupted Gotrek.

“Yes, well, Stegris had been gone for just over a week and a new batch of would be heroes arrived in the village wanting to make a name for themselves, four humans and an elf”.

A large ball of phlegm suddenly landed on the floor near Oddpapper and Felix could see Gotrek’s knuckles whitening on the shaft of his mighty weapon, for his friend had no love lost for Elves of any kind, both adversary and ally alike.

“Anyhow, we fed them like usual, bathed them and they had their choice of our women for the evening as is our tradition for any who come to try and set us free of the curse that we have endured for so many years. Then, early the next morning just after sunrise they set off, smiling and singing as though they were on a jaunt to a summer fair so confident were they in their own ability. Anyway, the next morning all of their horses trotted back into the main market square, all empty apart from the last in line that had a hand-made wooden and canvas stretcher fixed to the back of the horse, with Stegris securely tied in order that he not fall off.”

Felix did not have to look at Gotrek to know that his friend was about to burst into an angry tirade about a fellow dwarf – and a slayer at that – being tied up and left helpless by humans - or even worse by the Elf.

Oddpepper continued. “At this point Stegris was still alive, if only barely and was muttering something to himself over and over again, like it was an important message that he had to pass on at all costs. The top few layers of his skin were missing, and his tattoos seemed to be sliding of his face and arms, but when we untied him he somehow still managed to stand. Do not ask me how he did this for I feel no man should have been able to withstand the agony that he must have been enduring. The quite simply he dissolved in front of us all”.

“Manlings feel pain more than dwarfs old man” Gotrek said with an assured self-esteem. “Sounds to me like Elf treachery, but, tell me what he said”.

When Oddpepper said the last word of Stegris it took Felix a moment to translate it from Dwarfish and then it seemed an odd word for the last will and testament of anyone, let alone a brave – and usually foolhardy Slayer in Felix’s own mind – thing to say. Stegris staring imminent death in the face and repeating it over and over like some form of a crazy mantra did not quite fit in with the Slayers he had met and seen in the past whose final doom he had witnessed with his very own eyes and ears. Gotrek also appeared puzzled by the word, one bushy red eye-brow raised above the other . His obviously rising temper of a few seconds before appeared to have somewhat abated as he tried to digest what a fellow - but delirious - Slayer could have possibly have wanted to warn others about by the use of the word ‘stomach’!

“You’re sure that is what he said?” asked Felix. “Nothing-else ? No clues as to what he was trying tell you ?”.

“No nothing that I can remember” said Oddpepper by way of return, creasing his forehead and resting one of his elbow on the stone fire mantle and putting his spare hand on his chin as though deep in thought and trying hard to remember anything that he might have left out of his original telling of tale. “Well, there was one other thing, but nobody really thought much about it much at the time. We all put it down to dwarf hoarding, no offence intended, dear sir. When we tried moved him later – or rather clean up what was left – we found strapped to his back what looked like a very long piece of ivory shaped in the form of a tooth. It must have been at least four feet long and probably about the width of a man’s fore-arm at its wider end. No-one could actually remember him arriving with it, but it could have been concealed in one of packs on his over-burdened mule. The village elders debated that night as to what we should do with it. Next day we buried it along with what was left with him in the Temple of Sigmar graveyard, the part we reserve for honoured dignitaries and guests whose relatives we are unable to contact”.

Felix was quite proud of Gotrek for not physically taking out his intensifying rage on the well-matured man at this last statement, though Gotrek still rose to his full height clutching his axe in a two handed grip. “Show me the manling who put Segris in a human God resting place and I’ll show him his own back-side from the inside”.

Oddpepper took a step back, and Felix felt he should intervene now or the local community would be one person short in the near future, for it would have been an extremely short and one-sided fight if the red mist descending over Gotrek was let loose. However it could also mean that the only way to subdue the situation would be to agree to go to the village and let his friend take it out on the beast – if it actually really existed. And if Gotrek wanted to un-inter his brethren at the same time and make new arrangements it was fine by him, just as long as they met the party they had agreed to travel with at the pre-arranged departure point then everyone could potentially come out of the situation if not necessarily happy, atleast alive and with all their limbs attached to their body !

The chair creaked as Felix stood up and placed himself between Oddpepper and Gotrek, before addressing them both. “I am sure that what Mr. Oddpepper is trying to say is that the town gave Stegris what they ‘thought’ at the time was the most respectable send off that they could think. And I am also sure that care was taken with the remains of Stegris so that they were all handled with the upmost reverence. The fact that Stegrs’s final resting place may not have been the best place in hindsight is something that cannot be undone but can be changed with the help of all parties involved. We will come to your village and my friend here will make any new arrangements he feels necessary for his kin to lay in peace. After that, if we have time to visit your cavern, then we will do so”. Felix sincerely hoped that the clock would be against them and they would be able to make only the briefest of reconnoitres for the legendary monster before continuing on their journey. However, he knew that Gotrek’s quest for a glorious doom may also mean that it was unlikely he would quit until either proved that the beast was just fiction, met his fate or he stood on top of the beast looking for another foe to fight. “I suggest I go and get some more drinks and we toast to success on the morrow”.

Putting his arm around the old man’s shoulder he led him quickly and discreetly away from what would probably have been his premature demise and headed towards the bar, explaining to Oddpepper on the way that it may actually be the wiser option to leave the tavern now rather than risk the Slayer’s wrath returning. Sigmar knew what would happen if the villager had turned round and said that Stegris had been scooped up in a bucket and poured into a hole in the ground ! Oddpepper agreed and briefly explained the way to his village – which to Felix’s ominous thoughts earlier in the evening - turned out to be right on the road they were intending to travel.

As the door closed Felix decided to check out the story from the inn-keeper when buying the drinks, optimismic that Oddpepper might actually turn out to be the village idiot and that they would not have to live up to their promise of help to eradicate a fiend that was only in the imagination of an eccentric mind.

The barman was a bald, portly gentleman in a chequered shirt s at least a size too small, unbuttoned to the waist revealing a profusion of unruly curly balck and grey hair that fought with the material to push as far out into the room as possible. His name was Groatz and he appeared to want to spend all his time polishing unused wine glasses with a rag that seemed to be adding more grease to them than he was actually removing, but he was happy serve Felix and answer a few questions for the price of a drink.

Gummypaints
03-09-2009, 15:08
“Oddpepper ? He’s pretty harmless, but he does tend to wind up our boarders with that repeated tale of his, adding a few little extras now and then to suit his audience.”

“What do you mean by that”asked Felix.

“Well, his story seems to change depending on who is actually talking to. We had a party of Kislev mercenaries in here once and low and behold a party of their folk had also disappeared or died at the hands of the beast. Can’t say that I’d heard that one about the Slayer’s death until tonight too. But, an Elf in these parts ?”.

“So it’s just a load of Goblin dung then”. Felix’s heart lifted and then just as quickly hit the ground with an almighty smack.

“Oddpepper has been in here at least once a week without fail inviting would-be heroes, mercenaries or simple travellers to test their bravery and iron against the mysterious nemesis that has plagued them for so long. And the cave certainly exists, though I personally have not seen it myself. In my twenty years of owning this tavern though none of those that agreed to accompany him have ever come back here to tell of their success and I certainly remember serving the dwarf the night before he went. Slayers are quite are in these part too”.

“So as far as you know Oddpepper and his poor little village..”.

“Hey, hold on”, said Groatz as he passed the drinks to Felix on a rather battered silver tray, “I didn’t say the people there were poor. Completely the opposite in fact, for quite an industry has now grown up over their plight. Every other shop in Atherton is either a restaurant or a souvenir shop, selling food and trinkets to all those who gather for the ‘send-offs’. Indeed, even the local priests seem to be making a extra few pieces of silver, blessing all those souls who want to make their peace with their maker if the worst was shortly about to come to the worst.”

A worrying thought was beginning to take shape in Felix’s head. If his travels with Gotrek had taught him anything it was regular people very rarely stayed in areas of constant unease or close to persistant conflict. The fact that a populace had chosen not only to stay but even seemed to be celebrating their infamous ‘beast’ ran very much against the grain of sane individuals. He kept his thoughts to himself but asked the Barman how often these so called ‘send-offs’ took place.

“Well, usually the next day after Oddpepper has been in here, but they must have either an established grape-vine or extremely fast word of mouth as the village is usually full of spectators there to wish the misfortunate individuals well. Others are there just to bet on the outcome, though even I can see it would take a brave or foolish man to bet on a triumphant return. Many observers have returned here after telling of streamers and colourful banners decked out with individually hand painted messages to those fearless men who are taking up the challenge. Sometimes I really don’t know what the villagers would do without this income!”

“Anything else ?” asked Felix, feeling that the bar-man wasn’t quite telling him everything he knew.

“Well, there is one other thing. I know this for sure from talking to the owners of the other inns in the area when we have our yearly ale festivals. Oddpepper seems to be one of just a handful of people that go out ‘inviting’ strangers to test their metal against the Atherton menace, though none of them ever strays from their one tavern to visit another. Ivan Strauss – he owns the ‘Googly’ in Tufnelldell, Lara Miller – she runs the ‘The Yorker’ in Forrest-heath and old Archie Petersen who works in the ‘The Willow’ all tell me that they have their own little Oddpepper.”

A sudden and inexplicable chill ran up Felix’s spine as he walked back over to Gotrek and the warmth of the fire. One word kept coming into his mind and repeating itself again and again. ‘Lures!’

--------------------

Outside the ‘Middle Wicket’, Oddpepper stepped into the gloom of the alley that ran alongside the building, his drunken gait no longer affecting him. The illumination from the street lamps failed to cast all but a small amount of light here and he nearly tripped and fell on some garbage that had been thrown out of sight of the road, but just managed to catch himself in time. As he straightened himself, a shape took form from the murky shadows beside him, resolving into the figure of a familiar tall and gangly looking individual. He had a wooden staff sculptured into the shape of a snake or worm held in his right hand, the apex matching the design of the ring on Oddpeppers own finger.

He knew from the stance of the newcomer that he was about to be asked the same question he had been asked for more years than he cared to remember.

“Any problems ?”. The voice was hoarse, like a man who had done far to much shouting in the past and whose throat had never healed properly.
Oddpepper shook his head, nervously scratching his nose again.

The sinister figure did not speak again, simply turning and walking back along the alley, his staff making a tapping noise that faintly echoed and slowly faded into the night, as his body once again faded into the darkness.

Oddpepper lingered a few seconds longer, releasing a deep breath that he had not realised he was holding and then hurried to catch up with his associate.

--------------------

It took Felix a moment to realise that it was not the pounding in his head from the drink the night before that had woken him from his restless sleep, but the pounding on the door to his room. The door-frame seemed to be shaking in the wall, the picture mounts slowly moving to lop-sided angles and the glass physically rattling in the window frames. He could also hear some of the other boarders in the tavern through the thin walls shouting for the perpetrator to not so politely bring his relentless assault to a halt. He thought about trying to ignore it and try to go back to sleep, maybe it was just a dream afterall, but when a deep and gutteral voice called ‘Manling’ from the corridor he knew that he would not be allowed to sleep his hangover off. It felt like he had only been in bed a few hours and it appeared still quite dark outside.

The floor was cold under his feet as he made his way over and unhooked the latch, deliberately making alot of noise himself just incase Gotrek was about to mishandle it again with his huge fists and send him flying backwards into the room.

Gotrek stood there fully dressed and ready to go, his beloved axe resting on his right shoulder. He had the look of someone that - unlike Felix himself - had slept soundly and was fully refreshed and ready for the day ahead.

“Time to go slay us a monster” he said, and then without further ado, walked off down the hallway, intentionally it seemed banging on every door he passed just to further annoy the residents. The last Felix saw of him as he disappeared down the stairs at the end of the landing was his tall orange hair as it descended to the tavern below.

After putting on his boots, he splashed some water on his face from the bowl on the bedside cabinet, and wandered over to the window to let the cold morning air in and try to clear his head. As he swung the window open he caught sight of the towns night-watchman still doing his rounds, his fur clad gloves rubbing together to try to keep them warm. He stopped a few paces from the tavern, looked up at the moon Mannslieb and its the smaller companion Morrslieb, then expelling flurry of misty air shouted “Four o’clock. All is well”. Then he shuffled on off down street, whistling to himself.

Four A.M. thought Felix, I have only been in bed for a little over two hours ! Sometimes – well, quite often - Jaeger wondered if keeping his obligation to Gotrek was going to be the death of him. Sleep deprivation was just as likely to kill him one-day as the rusty blade of an Orc, the club of a Beastman or the knives of the backstabbing Chaos Cultists that they forever seemed to be running into now-a-days. Then again he concluded, he really had no-one else to blame other than himself, it had been on his own inspiration to stay up, drink and talk to Gotrek about his suspicions of the eccentric Oddpepper. Not that it had done much good though, other than make the Slayer just that little bit more determined and fill Groatz’s purse strings with what little coin he and the Slayer had left. Still, he pulled on the rest of his clothes, strapped his sword to his side, threw his Sudenland cloak around his shoulders and left the room to find Gotrek, his belongings wrapped in a blanket held in one hand.

Groatz was still downstairs in the dimly lit tavern, wiping the tables and benches down with water from a bucket ready for the breakfast to be served in as reasonably clean environment as was possible. His belly made it hard for him to reach some of the spots and Felix made a mental note that if he ever came this way again he would avoid sitting and especially eating in those particular areas. When the barman noticed him he threw his rag in the bucket with a wet slap and came over to speak to Felix.

“I’d just like to wish you well Mr. Jaeger. And thank you for your business. I have given your short friend some bread and fruit to eat on your way”. Good job Gotrek had not been around to hear him being described as ‘short friend’ thought Felix. Then Groatz reached for and shook Felix’s hand in a firm grip. “And if you do go looking for the Atherton creature, may Sigma have mercy on your soul”. He made a few religious hand-gestures across his chest and then went back to prepare the tables.


He found Gotrek waiting outside, chewing on a lump of something he could not immediately identify and impatiently tapping his foot. “I thought I might have to leave without you, Manling, but, ‘tis best you come I suppose”.

Felix did not respond, but started walking in the direction they needed to go, the cobbles of the road reverberating through his body to his throbbing head. Atherton was only about a five hour walk on foot, but he knew it was going to feel like atleast twice that in his current state. Just concentrate he told himself, put one foot in-front of the other and maybe it would go quickly. It didn’t.

---------------

It was mid-morning when they found the turning to Atherton, although it would probably be more accurate to say that the turning found them. They had just emerged from around a bend in the road where the trees they had been travelling through gave way to low rolling hills of as yet unfarmed grassland, when Gotrek stopped in his tracks, causing Felix to nearly walk into the back of him. He had been looking back occasionally over his shoulder, so sure was he of the eyes he felt tracking him through the forest were about to launch an assault on them in the open, that he had not seen his companion stop suddenly infront of him.

“By Grungni, what is that” asked Gotrek, looking ahead and up at some material that stretched across the road before him, blowing slightly in the wind but obviously firmly attached to two wide wooden poles on either side. The fabric at one time could have possibly been white once in its life, but it was now a pale yellow colour. The majority of the writing on it appeared faded and smudged, though some looked alot darker and fresher in certain places, as though someone had modified it recently. It was also next to a junction in the road.

Felix raised his hand to his forehead and shaded his eyes from the sun. “It looks like some sort of banner or pennant” replied Felix, “though I can’t quite read what it says on it from here”. Gotrek made a sound that seemed to indicate he could see as much and that Felix had not really helped matters any.

It was then that a figure stood up and emerged from beside one of the support poles. Even from this distance, silhouetted and with rays of light shinning off the polished armour on his shoulder plates and the hilt of a broad sword strapped to his back Felix could tell the man was the size of a Ox. Not only tall, but as broad as any barrel he had ever seen in his lifetime. He thought about drawing his sword from its scabbard even though the man had not started for his own weapon, but the stranger put his arm in the air and waved the duo to join him in what seemed a friendly and beckoning manner.

“Not a good place for an ambush” commented Gotrek, between spitting out pips from some wild berries he had picked along the way.

Felix looked harder at the terrain about them. There were no clumps of bushes, no trees, and no drainage trenches that any would-be assassins could be hiding in. Birds were singing, bees were buzzing back and forth between clusters of yellow and lilac flowers and a small herd of deer were grazing just off to their left that certainly would not have been there if other predators would have been in the near vicinity. In most respects it was a most idealistic and pleasant scene.

“C’mon Manling, I am not going to kill this legendary fiend by standing here”. Then Gotrek was off, plodding along with his usual confident and heavy gait towards the stranger ahead of them. A few seconds later Felix followed.

As the pair approached the make-shift sign, the wording on it finally revealed itself and the reason for the mis-match of colours became more apparant. The words ‘Atherton 1 myle. Ome of de unkilible Monter. Welome’ was written in the faded writing, and then underneath in dark new paint was ‘Gorek and Flix!’ It was also obvious that the duo’s names were written over thick and crusty white paint, indicating that the banner had been used on more than one occasion.

“Well,”, commented Felix, deliberately ignoring the bad spelling, “it looks as if our dear friend Oddpepper has been busy”

“Makes no difference to me”, rumbled the Slayer in response.

The knight by now had started to walk towards them, his un-armoured right hand out-stretched to greet them. He was even more colossal close-up, towering nearly a foot above Felix, and he was no small man himself. Indeed Gotrek’s crest of red hair came only halfway up the knights chest. In his other hand he held his other glove and helmet under his arm, a ridiculously long and brightly coloured plume attached to the apex. He was young and lightly bearded, the hair on his face looking soft like he had never shaved in his short adult life.

“Mayest I greet thee with all due courteousness. I goeth by the name of Sir Archibald Lamenrod of Green Acre. I presumest thous names are being Gorek and Flix ? Herest to confront the Atherton fiend, like myselfest and taketh the gold? ”

“You can ‘confrontest’ who you flaming like” said Gotrek, “but, you get there after me then all your going to find is bloodied bones and empty chests”

Felix took the proffered hand, Lamenrod’s shake solid and firm. “Actually, my name is Herr Felix Jaeger and my associate here is Gotrek Gurnisson. I am afraid that spelling seems to be rather a weak subject of our newly found friends.”

(far as I got for now

Paradox 01
03-09-2009, 15:19
Wow. Other than a couple nitpicks with punctuation, I'd say, "Great stuff!"