Karl: This is Karl Schimmelfennig, coming to you live from Blackfire Pass, where the local Imperial commander is fighting desperately to repel yet another Orcish incursion. Part of his force includes the not-so illustrious Battle Wizard (Level 1), Jurgen Schmidt, of the Heavens Lore. As you can see, the fighting is still going on, but Jurgen has very nicely agreed to take time out from his undoubtedly busy schedule, to talk with us today. Jurgen, again, we are most grateful for your company here this afternoon.
Jurgen: Not at all Karl, it's a pleasure to be here. For me, any break from the battlefield is most welcome.
Karl: So I hear. It's not an easy life being a novitiate wizard these days, is it?
Jurgen: Pfft, you're telling me. I mean, when I listen to that old fart Guthren Schwartzhelm...
Karl: Chief Lecturer in Heavens Lore?
Jurgen: One and the same - yeah, I listen to him rambling on, and I find it hard to believe him sometimes. He's always going on about how it used to be so easy to cast our bread and butter spell, 2nd Sign of Amul. I think he's getting forgetful in his dotage - it's definitely harder to make work than he's letting on. Then there's all the times he talks about dropping lightning and thunderbolts on people all the way across the battlefield. I mean really. The range on that spell is 240 yards, tops. None of this "anywhere you can see" crap. But worst of all is when he talks about the comets he used to bring down to earth. To listen to him you'd think they used to level mountains, and leave gigantic smoking craters in the earth. But in reality, it's overrated. Maybe a small dent, at best. But I dropped a smallish sized meteorite on some knights last week and they just ignored it. Made no difference to their armour whatsoever. You don't have to believe me, but I'm telling you, heavens magic has definitely gone downhill. Maybe I should have joined those treehugging lore of lifers...
Karl: Let's get back to you for a moment. What exactly is your role these days, as a novice wizard?
Jurgen: Well, I'd like to say it's as a valued member of the army, warding off foul chaos magiks but I'd be lying. The Electors treat me like shit, and that's the understatement of the century. As it stands at the moment all I'm expected to do is rock up with 2 bits of paper, hide in a forest somewhere and just wait till I hear the Elector Count scream my name. Then I whip out the scrolls, read the words and that's it. Job well done. Do you know how many scrolls I've read out in my career? I see them in my sleep. Always taunting me. It's so degrading. I'm supposed to be a mysterious, aloof figure, to be feared and respected. Instead I'm nothing more than a glorified librarian. They never mentioned that on the recruiting poster...
Karl: But surely you must have something else to do rather than just read out dispel scrolls? You can cast spells, and dispel enemy spells yourself can't you?
Jurgen: Oh please. As if I ever get a chance to do that. Not for want of trying though. I always tell the Electors, "Y'know, I can cast lightning bolts, create storms, bring down comets, shake the heavens themselves..." but no. It's always the same. "No Jurgen, your place is here with the artillery. Make sure they keep firing." So, that's my lot. Hanging round to save the lives of a bunch of itinerant, bucktoothed, inbred peasants who seem intent on trying to blow themselves up. You don't need magic to do that. If those retards just learnt not to spill gunpowder all over the place, or stopped loading up the cannons with dead animals "for a laugh", we wouldn't have misfires in the first place.
I do try my best though - but it's never enough for these Electors these days. Take last month's battle for example. We were attacked by these giant lizards, led by this gigantic blob on a golden throne. He spent the entire battle hoovering around the place blasting magic at everything of ours that moved. Everyone kept yelling at me to do so something to stop it, but how do you stop something like that? It'd be like trying to stop Archaon's horde with a rusty butter knife and a "Sigmar is my Co-Pilot" sticker stuck to your arse. But I did my best. I think I dispelled at least one spell - or he might have decided to stop casting it. I don't know. It's irrelevant anyway - my best is never good enough for these ingrates.
Karl: How do you mean?
Jurgen: Well, get this for example. Late in the day the lizards made one final push. I was standing near the cannon crew, when this enormous bloody dinosaur came belting out of the forest. They panicked and unloaded the cannon at it. For once in their worthless incestuous lives, those bloody peasants actually hit something, but they didn't stop it. It had blood pissing out of its chest, but came on, still bellowing and charging. I didn't want to get impaled by those horns, and I could see the crew wouldn't have time to reload - too busy seeing who could fart the loudest, no doubt. So, I thought, instructions be damned - and I tried to cast a thunderbolt, to finish it off.
Karl: Did it work?
Jurgen: Well, not exactly. You see, I panicked a bit, and completely flubbed the spell. The end result was a demon - A DEMON! tried to take control of my mind.
Karl: My God! That sounds frightful.
Jurgen: Well, through a supreme will of effort, I managed to repel him, but the resulting blast radius as I expelled him from my head...*ahem*...might, possibly, have contributed to the cannon crew...err...dying. And the dinosaur rampaging past me lying on the ground into the rest of the artillery. Before charging into the Elector Count's personal troops, and eating them. Apparently all my fault. Needless to say I haven't worked with that particular Elector Count again.
Karl: So, who are you working for now?
Jurgen: At present I'm working for a local Lord - usual deal, all full of himself, frightfully condescending. I don't mind being called a "scroll caddy" - well, I do, but compared to some of the other names I've been called, it's a definite plus. But yeah, "scroll caddy" is fine, but I resent having to wear his Lordship's name on the back of my shirt, as well as carry his swords to the battlefield. I mean really.
Karl: Well, unfortunately Jurgen, that's all the time we have today, and besides, I think you're needed at the frontline.
Jurgen: What makes you say that?
Karl: The Lord who hired you, him and his troops wear the red and brown livery?
Jurgen: Yeah, that's right. You can't tell when they're bleeding, or when they've had a nervous accident, ha ha ha.
Karl: Well, the Orcs are attacking again, and a gigantic green foot just landed on all the cannons.
Jurgen: Oh shit.