The Weight of the World is on Her Shoulders

Mikeil Renthove - The Journy North

Vendarl 2nd, Casteus, 607 AR

Traveling during winter will be the death of me. The boat to Steelwater was fine, the Market Railway was fine, but this blasted wagon leaves me frozen at night, and not much better during the day. I long for the warmth of a workshop, furnaces ablaze and the deafening pounding of machinery in my ears. I had started to sleep with my bag on the pother side of the wagon, any closer and it seemed to pull any heat I did manage to keep out of my body.
That was all until a week ago, when a troop of Khadoran soldiers and madmen decided it was prudent to blow-up the wagon in the middle of the night with me still inside. Seeing as I’m the one writing this, it’s really needless to say it was a bad idea for them in the long run. after dropping a few of the solders with my hand cannon, some of their rank went completely insane and sliced through their own men with swords as tall as myself. It’s a mistrey to me how Cygnar is loosing to these people when they prove as dangerous to themselves as they do to the enemy.
I did manage to secure an Orgoth Relic from one of the troops leader which almost made the fight worth the the week long trek into Armandor it cost me. The Staff seems to be able to protect me from spells with a little focus, I doubt I would be able to sell if for a decent amount anywhere around here. True magic is unwieldy in the best of times, not like Mechaniks you can calculate out, but the staff may still be invaluable if I find myself on the wrong side of a sorcerer.
Tomorrow I will be heading out on a chartered carriage to Merin where I hope to be able to find some more information on Magnus and the Steelheads.



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