"You're crazy. And when I say crazy I mean Witch Elf on Death Night crazy."
The sounds of revelry surrounded them. The Gutted Goblin tavern on the outskirts of a small town in the Border Princes was celebrating the return of a Dwarf Army from a successful Greenskin campaign. The only thing flowing faster than the beer was stories as each of the Dwarfs attempted to out-boast the other.
In a small alcove, two Dwarfs sat together. The speaker was a broad warrior, tall for a Dwarf and with bright orange hair. His temper matched the color earning him the nickname Firebrand from his friends. Durin Thorsguard was part of the crew celebrating, but had stopped when he saw a familiar old face at the back of the Goblin.
Thurin Whitestone looked as pale as his name. His normal ruddy complexion was white and his eyes stared off into the distance as he nursed a tankard of Bugman's Finest.
Seeing he was going to get no response, Durin tried again. "Listen old-timer, I admit that I've seen some crazy things before. I've campaigned against the Dawi Zharr and I know the fire daemons are real. But even I'm having a hard time with this one."
Still staring, Thurin whispered again but his voice started growing in volume as he continued. "The Corrupted Ones have moved beyond that. They have worked out how to anchor the daemons not into iron and steel, but flesh."
Suddenly the old Ranger reached out and grabbed Durin's Tunic. "I saw them Durin. I SAW THEM. A hideous amalgamation of Bull and Dwarf, but burning from within. Eyes of flame and the very skin of the creature bubbling and spitting like molten rock." Seeming to lose what little energy he had mustered he slumped back in his seat. "I saw them," he whispered, "and that is all I can see now."
Durin frowned at the old Ranger. He was a seasoned campaigner but... maybe the battle stress was getting to him. He looked down at Thurin's tankard. That's it. Shouts pulled his attention back to the crowd around the bar, where several of his men were gesturing for him to join them during his favourite drinking song.
"Listen Thurin... Have a drink or two more and then get some rest, eh? It will be alright in the morning." He stood up and brushed off his tunic. "Trust me."
As the other Dwarf walked away, Thurin drew his tankard close as if a talisman against evil.
"That's all I can see now."