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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 - The Giver of Gifts Rotbloods. It’s always those bleeding Rotbloods, ain’t it? Now, I’m not saying there’s a spy in our midst – though I wouldn’t put it beyond the bounds of possibility – but they do always seem to be snapping at our heels. Doesn’t help, of course, that they’re currently in possession of much of the territory around the Citadel of Eternity, but that don’t make it any less frustrating. Maybe they’re attracted by the smell?
(Note to self, make sure Kruber bathes more often. Or at all.)
Anyway, it’s always been a bit of a puzzle to me that anyone – Rotbloods included – would worship Nurgle. It’s not like doing so keeps you safe from plague, is it? I mean … look at them. Just a bunch of filth, corrosion and weeping sores. But Olesya set me straight – as she does so like to do. Seems for a lot of northlanders, it ain’t about preventing the plague so much as stopping it from killing you. Pestilence and the prostrate in symbio-thingy … symbiosis, that’s the word. It living off you, and making you stronger as a result.
Still gives me the shudders. I mean, if something starts feasting on your flesh, you scrape it off or cut it out, don’t you? Stands to reason. They’re a funny lot up north, and no mistake.
Speaking of funny … According to Marius Holseher’s Liber Malefic, old Nurgle’s a bit of a jolly soul. Paternal, even, with a big belly laugh and a fondness for his followers … the same followers he infects with all manner of suppurating disease. Odd kind of love, but I suppose we’re not supposed to understand the gods, are we? Probably go mad trying, which would certainly explain a few things about some of my acquaintances. Not the Ubersreik Five, of course. Which ain’t to say they’re not odd enough in their own ways.
For all that Kerillian claims to be seeking Lileath’s blessing on these pilgrimages, she does seem to be a bit more … pantheonistic than she used to be. I catch her muttering other names when she doesn’t think I’m listening. Isha. Atharti. Morai-Heg. Hekarti. Someone called the Pale Queen. A few, I’ve heard before, but the tone’s different this time. The fear’s gone. It’s almost like she’s pleading. Imagine that, our Kerillian, begging for something. I’d talk to her about it, but Sienna’s made it quite clear that I should leave her be. I’m sure it’ll work out.
Well, almost sure.
At least Saltzpyre seems to be a little more like his old self. Even called Olesya a “contemptuous purveyor of mendacious witchcraft” yesterday, so he’s definitely on the mend. Like his faith’s been tested, and come back stronger. It can happen that way. As for Catrinne, she’s even more besotted than before. The more oblivious he gets, the more determined she becomes.
Don’t ask me. I just work here.
Franz Lohner's Chronicle - The Giver of Gifts Rotbloods. It’s always those bleeding Rotbloods, ain’t it? Now, I’m not saying there’s a spy in our midst – though I wouldn’t put it beyond the bounds of possibility – but they do always seem to be snapping at our heels. Doesn’t help, of course, that they’re currently in possession of much of the territory around the Citadel of Eternity, but that don’t make it any less frustrating. Maybe they’re attracted by the smell?
(Note to self, make sure Kruber bathes more often. Or at all.)
Anyway, it’s always been a bit of a puzzle to me that anyone – Rotbloods included – would worship Nurgle. It’s not like doing so keeps you safe from plague, is it? I mean … look at them. Just a bunch of filth, corrosion and weeping sores. But Olesya set me straight – as she does so like to do. Seems for a lot of northlanders, it ain’t about preventing the plague so much as stopping it from killing you. Pestilence and the prostrate in symbio-thingy … symbiosis, that’s the word. It living off you, and making you stronger as a result.
Still gives me the shudders. I mean, if something starts feasting on your flesh, you scrape it off or cut it out, don’t you? Stands to reason. They’re a funny lot up north, and no mistake.
Speaking of funny … According to Marius Holseher’s Liber Malefic, old Nurgle’s a bit of a jolly soul. Paternal, even, with a big belly laugh and a fondness for his followers … the same followers he infects with all manner of suppurating disease. Odd kind of love, but I suppose we’re not supposed to understand the gods, are we? Probably go mad trying, which would certainly explain a few things about some of my acquaintances. Not the Ubersreik Five, of course. Which ain’t to say they’re not odd enough in their own ways.
For all that Kerillian claims to be seeking Lileath’s blessing on these pilgrimages, she does seem to be a bit more … pantheonistic than she used to be. I catch her muttering other names when she doesn’t think I’m listening. Isha. Atharti. Morai-Heg. Hekarti. Someone called the Pale Queen. A few, I’ve heard before, but the tone’s different this time. The fear’s gone. It’s almost like she’s pleading. Imagine that, our Kerillian, begging for something. I’d talk to her about it, but Sienna’s made it quite clear that I should leave her be. I’m sure it’ll work out.
Well, almost sure.
At least Saltzpyre seems to be a little more like his old self. Even called Olesya a “contemptuous purveyor of mendacious witchcraft” yesterday, so he’s definitely on the mend. Like his faith’s been tested, and come back stronger. It can happen that way. As for Catrinne, she’s even more besotted than before. The more oblivious he gets, the more determined she becomes.
Don’t ask me. I just work here.