The Flying Dog
The Soldier's Newsletter
July 15
Discerning the Messenger Pigeons of the Olde Worlde
The messenger migeons of the Olde Worlde are a fickle and troublesome breed of animals, best suited for remote use and as pets to the odd and eccentric of humans. Nonetheless, the new Imperial policy of using pigeons as communication birds has forced many otherwise sane and decent people to interact with these foul and reprehensible vermin.
When choosing a pigeon for carrier duty, it is vitally important to get the proper bird from the cage. Not just any pigeon will do - a careful observer will keenly notice which birds might make acceptable carriers and which birds have simply been bought on contract and are more likely to take important messages or plans to the enemy than to our own troops.
First, notice the birds that do not move. These dull, lifeless avians feel no true purpose in life; when released into the air, they are as likely to take to the ground as the air. They will travel only where the wind and their own fancy take them, and will never bring a message properly.
Second, let your eye draw to the birds which observe you carefully; unmoving though they be, their eyes follow your every motion. These birds are more likely spies than loyalists, more drawn to the dark bewitchments of chaos or the clamour of an orc encampment than to the bright banners of Imperial forces. They are untrustworthy, and so are often chosen as bomb carriers for the engineers.
Third, notice the birds that flutter and squawk, drawing your eyes and ears by dint of motion and noise alone. These birds are overachievers, prone to wrong directions and forgetting their heading. Messages sent with such animals are invariably lost or forgotten, and the pigeon will probably breed a whole clan of its fellows before it remembers to bring its message anywhere at all.
Finally, the birds that move cautiously, observant, interested in all around them; these fowls are the worst of the lot: unreliable, untrustworthy, and inaccurate. Trust no message to them, for their fickle nature and casual attitude hints at the dumb truth beneath; these are, in fact, the stupidest of all the birds in the cage, and the worst possible option for any parcel whatsoever.
Not far from most pigeon cages, you will find the fox pens. It is not for no reason that foxes eat pigeons, given the chance; these noble animals are far more reliable and honorable than any bird. If the chance presents itself, insist upon a fox for you messenger. Leave the birds to the engineers and their experiments.
Saint discovered, or Heretic uncovered?
Great Inquisitor Maloch Himself, a strapping steel clad giant of a man, uncovered a Child of questionable virtue in the “last chance” tavern. She healed the Barkeeper with her own hands muttering canticles of faith.
“She was left at the Tavern by a wandering priest of Sigmar,” the barkeeper explained, “She never did no-one no harm. She only ever helped!”
“Once she wished a pox on me, and I caught it, right here on me cheek!” Jonas, 12 years of age, a pock scarred young man of unquestionable character.
Maloch, a man of great knowledge, deduced her true nature in an instant. The barkeeper dared to utter protestation as Maloch built the pyre. She was consigned to the flame, her daemon tainted soul wiped from the pure face of the Empire.
Penned by Bartholomew Steiger, Altdorf press.
With Dolohev Stonheim III
Greetings, dear readers! Harald Finkelstein here! I had the wonderful opportunity this past week of joining up with the 1st Reiklander Korps of Dolohev Stonheim as they moved out for Mattengard. Such professionals! If only all the armies of the Empire were like this one. The men were disciplined, well-drilled, well-spoken; it was as though I lived among an army of officers and nobles. The food was of the most excellent quality, the cutlery of boneware and silver, the wine excellent, the ale dark and cool. I'd never before seen an army take an hour out of every day to clean uniforms and weapons. Ah, such a glorious brilliance were the white of the shirts, the gleaming silver of blades, the fluttering crimson and azure of pennants and feathers. Many a foe, I'm sure, considered attacking but decided against battle with an entire army of men the quality of Imperial knights!
We traveled north, accompanied by two brave and bold warrior-priests of our most beloved Sigmar, Thabius and Lucas. They led the men in glorious hymns and rousing battle-cries as we marched, and at length we arrived and a section of the road where we were to clear the forests and establish a courier fort.
The men set about the labor with diligence and strong effort. They labored from dawn until dusk, clearing woods, building up fortifications, repairing the roadways. Brother Lucas knew many, many songs, and he sang as long as the men worked. Brother Thabius was ever ready with an encouraging (large) hand and keen words to bring spirit to our labors.
After three days, however, we recieved word that a force of goblins was approaching our position. General Stonheim immediately ordered two battalions to battle, and both of our brave priests went as well. It was not far to travel, for the men had to change into fresh uniforms, and the enemy was on their way to us with all speed. Had they longer legs, we might have fought among our own fresh-cleared ground!
The enemy met us in a clearing, not far from our camp. There were more than goblins, and there were more goblins than we expected. In the center of the enemy line stood at least three hundred massive orcs, clad in heavy mail, armed with mighty mauls and cleavers. We met them fearlessly, as Brother Lucas led the spearmen in a rousing chorus of "Sigmar, Hammer of Mine Foe" while Brother Thabius led the halberdiers. The fighting swung back and forth for the better part of half an hour, and though we were forced to fall back several times, the enemy lacked the stamina which our brave Reikland soldiers mustered, and despite their horrific, drug-crazed goblins and their seven-foot orc warriors, they could not break the line. They retreated at last, and General Stonheim ordered the brave Brothers and their men not to pursue. The orcs have learned their lesson here; they will not dare press an attack against us again.
My time with the 1st Reiklanders has been invaluable and quite delightful. I hear that the Emperor has sent the Reiksmarshal himself to award Brothers Thabius and Lucas with decorations for bravery; I am sure they will welcome him with a show to rival the Emperor's own camp. For me, I must leave; my duties take me west, I hear, through the forests. I shall write again soon, dear readers! Forget me not, and all praise to Sigmar!
Sincerely and Always Yours,
Harald Finkelstein
Barren Hills Sees Treacherous Dwarf Activity
Our Forces in Constant Battle
Roads Mostly Secured
The Barren Hills have repeatedly been the sight of fierce fighting and hard battle, but this week topped all before it. Nonetheless, the men of the Empire continue to prevail, and victory lies within sight against most of our foes.
The Druchii forces pressing into the region have been thwarted and crushed at every turn; when brought to open battle they repeatedly have suffered crushing defeats, and the arrival of Imperial warships on the Talabec River means that their precious waterway travel will soon be completely cut off. Orc warbands are being quickly pressed out to the north, and the bands of Chaos warriors that follow are also feeling the pain of Imperial steel.
The arrival this week of the Schlaeger Guard bolstered spirits considerably, and commander Gustav Feindschlaeger led his men in a series of crushing victories against our enemies. In addition, the Altdorf 2nd Divison has blazed a fearsome blue-and-red trail across the landscape, letting our enemies know the true strength of the Empire army.
General Helstrom has ordered many shipments of ale, otherwise destined for the Talabec Borders, to be shipped to armies in the Barren Hills instead, in the hopes of "motivating" the armies to the north to more successful operations. In additon, three more columns of troops have been deployed there, and a new offensive has been decreed for the coming week.
The great trouble in the Barren Hills now is, regrettably, our one-time allies. The dwarves, in league with the Asur, have constructed many fortifications along the Old Dwarf Road and further out into the country. Though they claim that these fortifications are merely for security, there can be little doubt that the dwarves do not intend to leave. Their treacherous use of an ancient and honorable alliance is most disconcerting to many of the highest-ranking officers, and a general call is going out against the dwarves and their blatant land-grab of Imperial territory. Their allies, the Asur (or "High" elves) are little better, discussing plans for claiming the territory of Tor Thana without any consultation to Imperial forces. For lack of enemies, these foolhardy and ancient peoples seem to believe that they must pick a fight with the younger and more vigorous of their allies! Woe to them if they continue with their foolhardy and ill-advised plans! The Empire will not tolerate this tragic breaking of affairs!
Karl Franz Wins Poker Tournament
Karl Franz and many of his high-ranking officers retreated from the field last week for the annual Altdorf Poker Tournament, and it turned out to be one of the best decisions of the war for our glorious Emperor, who finished first in the Tournament and returned to his camp with more than two hundred thousand gold pieces in winnings.
Reiksmarshall Helborg, though a fearsome fighter on the field, went down quietly in the third round to an on-fire Luitpold, the son of Karl Franz and heir to the throne of Reikland, who finished third overall. No one fared quite as badly as Supreme Patriarch Balthasar Gelt, who discovered an unfortunate tendancy to transmute his cards based on how good they were - a good hand invariably turned into gold cards, while most of the time he was betting on cards that turned to lead when his fingers touched them. The mask was no help to Balthasar, who was the first one to fall.
General Helstrom put up a strong showing, clearing up three tables before going down in an all-or-nothing bet against a Nordland wizard by the name of Rufas. Rufas himself was, unfortunately, removed from the table by disqualification after casting an augery on the cards of Ludwig Schwarzhelm.
Any quiet mumblings of the Emperor being "allowed to win" were sharply shot down by Luitpold's exclamation that he had never allowed his father victory at anything, and it was pure dumb luck that he'd come out on top.
All in all, it was a grand time for everyone, with more than three hundred thousand in winnings handed out and a donation of more than fifty thousand more to the Great Forest orphanages. Though some members of the court, including Middenheim Elector Boris Todbringer and General Gustav Feindschlaeger (on a short break from a resounding string of victories) stayed an extra day to enjoy the Blood Bowl game. Discussion of Blood Bowl players making excellent shock troopers was discussed, but no final decision was made.
This Week's Contributors:
Michael W, Reynard_of_Bogenhafen
