Entry 6: Eenie, meenie, miney, no!     These worshipping women are all over the place! Seems one has lost her following and wanted revenge on us, while another (and quite familiar) brought her gang along with the Dwarves to try and finish us off for good.     ...spin, spin, makers of kin, dance in the dark in your hollows of sin...     Deciding I should give a true demonstration of my power to these foolish women as opposed to simply slaying them myself, I tainted the mind of their ogre. It was quite a riot to watch their largest and most feared unit beating away at the warband's leader. Unfortunately, I was not permitted to stay, as a few large fellows caught me off-guard and dragged me into a pit in which I had to singlehandedly do battle with a fighter of sorts. Smirking, I dashed him, and with one mighty strike across his neck, dispatched him. The crowd didn't seem happy, I am sure they had their coin on the other combatant. Thankfully, though, I am pretty sure I tainted a few minds while I was there with my display of combat perfection.     I was told of what occured at the battlefield - my men fought with both a rage and insanity I would expect them to. They refused to leave, and as the overwhelming odds got to my group, they were eventually all beaten up. However, as is the case, nobody was hurt (save for the Sigmar!). Soulcrack seems to have gone quite insane, which is good, I believe I will attempt to experiment on him in a while with these stones, which we aquire more of with each passing day.     I still see no worth to the damned things, save for being excellent bait and a good means to draw unholy power. The latter peaks my interest far more than the former.     If anything, the fight made my men more callous, more hardened, and generally stronger. Worried they may be losing the sight of our goal here, we doubled the length of our nightly prayers and mayhem, taking the Hell far into the morning hours.     Thanatos, my precious, has become what I could only have dreamed - an infallible war machine, though still pure to his calling! In what little language he can muster (thank goodness for my ability to speak Daemonic!) he tells me of the joy he gets from tainting the minds of the townspeople here, and how the lust of battle is secondary to him. What words! May my men feel the same.     I feel like burning something, and there is a large and dry building ahead.     -Tylor Turn the page. Back to the previous page. Close the journal.