Illegitimate Sun

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,