Survivors of Charn
I always liked our Decanus, so of course he’s dead now. Evan Krill, veteran soldier of Charn, died today a soldier’s death. His people were from Sorlois I think, a family of bakers. But he left them at the age of thirteen and lived the whole remainder of his life beneath the standard of the Glorious Ninth. From Decanus Krill we learned all the martial virtues: drinking, swearing and cheating at five card slum. Today he gave his last lesson: How to die well, in service to the Queen. When her sublimely sacred person was attacked by water-wizards in the wood between the worlds he personally conducted her to safety and then led the rearguard action that covered her escape.
No time for sackcloth and ashes. The 5000 men and boys of Legio IX are reduced to three legionaries and one immune, without a single monument to celebrate its obliteration. We followed our Queen into a magic pool and into a world called Wandsworth- a rummy, cold place with a rum little yellow sun. The people are very drab and ordinary, except for their feudal overlords who are called “Peelers”, on account of their fondness for skinning indolent peasants alive. The Peelers dress in blue coats and look like werewolves with tit-shaped heads. One of them hesitated for a moment before bowing to our monarch, so she personally brained him with a chair. Their skulls, though bizarrely elongated, must be quite fragile, for he fainted on the spot.
We captured one of their alchemists, and returned to the Wood. The Queen deemed Wandsworth unsuitably vulgar, so we are going to attempt another pool.