Illegitimate Sun

It’s tough to know the beginning anymore.

As far as I can remember, I’ve carried this mark on my chest.

It’s carried several meanings from me.

A scar from the goblin raid that killed my parents when I was a babe.

A secret mark of my heritage and the key to finding a family I never knew

A divine sign that destined me to greatness.

It turned out to be none of these things.

My past is lost to me.

Were my parents killed in a raid or were they sacrificed by a mad priest, a traitor to the Realm?

I was raised in a monastery dedicated to the Heldenhammer. How much of that was a lie?

Father Leopold sent out disciples to find a marked man – the rebirth of Sigmar. A vision led me to take this quest as my own. Leopold did not want me to leave, but my faith took me away.

My soul was lifted by our travels round the Empire. From the everyday miracles that fill the cities to the artifacts of the gods that crossed our path, I found that my faith in the Empire was justified.

I also learned the evil that infests it and me.

From Olden’s tales, I learned that this mark may be a sign of evil. It had never occurred to me before then.

In my own research in Altdorf, I found tales of witch hunters and cults alike searching for such marks.

I did not know that evil was present in me. These were just stories.

In the village of Gutlow, we found how such marks came to be afflicted on innocents.

I did not know that evil was present in me. This is merely a scar that came from Chaos.

When I was kidnaped in Talabheim, it was done by Evans de Averheim on behalf of Leopold. Suddenly, my past mentor became my foe. It was then I swore to kill him for this betrayal.

I made arrangement for my brothers still fooled into standing by him. These plans clearly did not work.

Still, I did not know that evil was present in me. This was the mad plan of a traitor

I continued to keep faith and search for Sigmar reborn.

It was in Shala’s spring that my fear began to be realized. The holy water boiled only when it touched my cursed mark.

Suddenly, I could feel the presence of evil. Haruth tempted me; the demonic tome we took burned me. The mark grew heavy.

It was seeing this mark that drove Jasper to further madness.

I pushed myself harder. In Altdorf, tomes spoke of strange rites that cults perform with the flayed skin baring such marks. The necromancer’s tome told of a massive warpstone that was now held by such a cult. With it, they can create more cursed marks and complete their blasphemous rites.

I spoke with Shayla of flaying this mark off of me and destroying it before such turn.

We planned too late.

Now, I know that evil is present in me. The Mystic Winds swirl round me and through me here. The meteor calls out through these Winds and makes this mark burn. I can feel it connecting to a place of the damned. Demons tear through such connections and kill those I’m tasked to protect.

Such evil cannot be allowed to exist.

My faith is still strong. I have opened the eyes of my brothers and now turn to my final act.

I will fulfill my vow of righteous vengeance.

I will face Father Leopold and cast him down as a failure into the hell he worships. If needed, I was drag him there with me.

Grete,

So I am damned.

I have no fear of you receiving this letter. My journey will be at an end before this can be sent. I wonder if you’ll even be able to translate the scrawl I make with my wrong hand.

I have been wounded in battle greviously today – two wounds that will not heal.

The first was the shattering of my arm. I scrawl these words with my other hand.

That wound was minor.

The other wound will never be healed, not by magics or time in this world or the next.

To understand this, you must know my secret. It is one that was kept even from me until recently.

I was born with a mark. This mark carries a seed of evil and has damned my soul.

When I was younger and less schooled in the ways of the world, I had a dream. I dreamt that I saw portents of our Lord’s return. I knew that I was meant to find him.

Father Leopold prophecied His return. We would know Him by the mark He wore on His skin.

As Sigmar-reborn wore a mark, I thought nothing of my own mark except that maybe I had been picked for greatness.

How bitter is my laugh when I see the cruel joke played on me by the Blood Lord.

This mark makes my body – my heart – a portal through which Chaos swarms into the world.

I carry the seeds of evil into the Empire.

Twice today, I have felt the arcane winds howl around me and demons were torn through my frame. The force of this threw me to the ground senseless. I could not act or think, but I heard and saw all.

Through tears of blood, I watched as these monster tore apart simple folk that relied on me to protect them. I heard their screams as they died.

I hear them still.

I am damned.

I am marked by the Blood Lord.

But I will not serve him.

There are three facts that I know.

First, Father Leopold knew of the nature of my mark. He has fallen and seeks to ruin that he swore to protect.

Second, I will oppose him and his foul Lord and make all attempts to slay this traitor and end his schemes upon this land.

Third, my hope of cleansing myself of this foul curse is no more. When I learned of this mark’s true nature, I quested for a way to remove it from myself.

Now I know our fates are tied.

To remove it’s threat from the Empire, I must remove myself with it.

I hope to drag Leopold and his pack of currs down into Hell with me.

The time approaches. Our powder is spent, our blades bloodied and still the enemies stand against us.

I cannot ask you to pray for me – my soul is already claimed.

Instead, pray that I end this corrupt plot.

I will fall with a blessing to our Lord on my lips.

Sigmar prevails,

Tharsig

Shala is a loyal subject of the Empire and no ally of Chaos. In my travels alongside her, we faced evil in many forms and she neither hid from nor aided the enemies of this land. At all times she has been stalwart in the face of onrushing hordes.

At times, she has even placed her body between monsters and their prey, sacrificing herself to save subjects of this land.

Following every action, she is the first to tend to the wounded in spite of her own injuries.

Shala’s first devotion is to preserving life for the better glory of her lady lord.

I have seen her raise arms in only two instances. Each time, she struck only demons. One served the lord of flies; the other served the blood lord.

Both were foes of the Empire and deserved their fate.

As to the sword of Shayla. Shala was lead to it in holy vision; gifted it from a holy spring, and only used it to strike the enemies of her patron and the empire.

Since that time, she has neither shirked her duties nor hid her gift for safety’s sake.

These are not the works of an enemy to this land, but perhaps an ally given to us by a higher power. In this time of the Storm, we should look for such aid – as Magnus the Pius recognized the aid of the wind-shapers, the magus.

This is the word of Tharsig, annointed priest of Sigmar.