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An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Franz Lohner's Chronicle - Obsession
Kerillian’s back. Walked back in through the front gate as if nothing’s happened. So she’s alive, which is good. She’s definitely … different. I’ll get back to you about how I feel about that. As soon as I work out what it means. Don’t wait up. 

It’s not like she’s given me much to work with. Says she’s embraced the Cytharai and Cadai as never before, and her heritage alongside. She’s a Sister of the Thorn now, whatever that means. I reckon she’s gone a bit peculiar, truth be told. As if there’s a little bit less of her there in some ways, and a little bit more in others. Elves always teeter on the edge of mortality, and I’ve a sneaking suspicion that she’s finally tipped over the side. Seems more focused, too. That bit worries me. Obsession never ends well, especially when you’ve one foot in the Chaos Wastes.

After all, there is that small matter of the fourth and most insidious of the Chaos Gods being patron and predator of the obsessed. Sure, Slaanesh’s name gets bandied about in connection with perversions first and foremost, but if all we had to worry about was northlanders getting their jollies off in peculiar ways, then it wouldn’t be much of a threat, would it? We’d certainly spot it from a distance.

The problem with the Dark Prince is that he’s subtler than most think – including Saltzpyre’s lot at the Order of the Silver Hammer. Just takes a bit of pride to crack open the door … that small voice that whispers in your ear and asks you “wouldn’t you like more?” or “couldn’t you do better?” From there, it’s a thousand tiny compromises. Drip. Drip. Drip. Until one day you’re gone, and there’s something else standing in your place. It’ll look like you but you’d weep to see it, all the same.

That much, at least, I reckon the elves understand. They feel things keener than we do – pain, pleasure, boredom … the works. My old mate Elrod had a particular dread of Slaaneshi daemons, and maybe that was why. Never could get him to talk about it. Shared battlefields ain’t enough for sharing some secrets – especially the bad ones. 

Mark my words, if my Ubersreik Five fall foul of any of the Dark Gods, it’ll be Slaanesh. He’ll worm his way into what makes them strong – their faith, their duty, their desire to save lives or earn redemption – and make it their greatest bloody weakness. Well, all save Kruber, perhaps. That man’s so laid back I’m amazed his head doesn’t touch his heels.

Maybe that’s the answer? I just need to encourage my merry band to learn to let go a little bit. Yeah, that’ll work. The religious fanatic. The wizard with the addictive personality. The dwarf weighed down by guilt. Whatever it is that Kerillian’s become. Yeah. They’ll ease back if I ask them. Nothing simpler.

Hang on. Do I sound a bit obsessed?

Bugger.





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