I write you from the dim light of a soon to die candle. I wish the last drop of wax would leave so that I would again find myself in the pitch blackness that reminds me of home. Reminds me of where you found me. Of how you whispered to me. It was just a word at first… “Chaos.” So, very long ago you came to me in that darkness and I miss it. This world has begun to see more light every day and my night trained eyes grow ever more irritated for it. For this light makes it ever more difficult to hear your messages to me. But, your broken message has been clear enough. I have understood your instructions and have welcomed the others that you have called to this army. This spell you have whispered me instructions for is alarming. But, I know now why you chose me. The ritual leaves me in very ill health and incapable of being on the front-line. But, knowing now that this is the only way to communicate to other realms I will continue. You will be excited to here of these “Order” forces that Sigmar has employed.
This Order has blindly followed Sigmar and is “holy” teachings. They have failed to look into the history of Sigmar and how he has failed over and over against the forces of chaos. Sigmar has chose a holy man to lead the forces of his side. A man of blind faith, strong in conviction. Sigmar will fail this huddled mass of men like the many corpses that have died in his name over the years and over the many realms. Sigmar cares not for them. They truly don’t care for Sigmar. Not in the way that our forces lust to serve you Bruta. Your name is always on our mind. Always in our cold hearts. Always with us.
The candle is beginning to die now. It’s thin flame reaches out into the darkness in a struggle to exist. It can not see that darkness is eternal. Darkness is natural. The darkness can not be defeated. That darkness I embrace and welcome fully into me. I will now finish this bottle of spirits and begin the ritual. If I have followed your words with accuracy you will be soon drinking from this very bottle.