Caged Rats

My faith is strong, stronger even than my sword arm. But still, it is good sometimes to see the effects of one's piety.

There was a sermon I preached at the fighting pits of Cutthroat's Haven. The phrasing escapes me now--it has been some years--but the essence was one of service. That all good men should fight against the wickedness around them. That the battle against Chaos is a righteous one, and that struggle in Sigmar's name is better far than the struggle for worldly gain.

We were at camp last night when a sound like thunder reached my ears. I thought nothing of it at first, but presently it grew louder. Then the ground began to shake. It seemed that the storm was itself was crouched at the bonfire with us, and then we heard its voice.

"Are you Augustus?"

The voice was deep as oceans. The face was ugly as sin. At the edge of our firelight stood a massive figure, club in hand and outsized teeth grinning like a nightmare.

The ogre introduced himself as Chauncey, and reminded me of my sermon. He said my words had reached him, that he'd decided to leave his old life as a gladiator and pursue a more righteous path. He said that the first step on that path was finding me.

Strange how our actions, for good or for ill, come back to us. I'm sure that Chauncey is a sign from Sigmar that our cause is a just one. He's quite the fighter too, having singlehandedly dispatched two of the giant rats yesterday.

Strange how it happened. There were only a handful that came out to fight, but we could all hear the rest chittering nearby. Perhaps they were frightened of Chauncey? In any case, we managed to capture one alive, and though we only scraped a handful of gold selling the creature to a travelling show, we were able to claim a tidy sum for the weapons it carried. Everything to the greater glory of Sigmar I suppose.

--From the journals of Augustus the Stern, Imperial Year of the Comet 1999