Dear Diary,Despite the general pleasantness of my current stay here, be it making new associates, finding myself a hobby and occupation, and the retrieval of Ghal Maraz, visions and thoughts still cloud my mind at times.
Is this what Sigmar had planned for me in the event of my fall? To live a life un-plagued by that of the many trials and tribulations of the Old World back home?
What of the citizens? What of my men? What of The Empire?
Some nights I stay up longer than I should, staring at the horizon and the night sky. Hoping for a sign that even a fraction of those I had sworn to protect have survived. If the nights are quiet enough, I can still hear the sounds of steel, cannon, and that cursed champion of the Pestilent God.
Nevertheless, the more I find myself occupied, the more these thoughts recede back into the reaches of my mind, especially in good company. I might ask that long, dark-haired fellow if they’d like to, ‘hang out’, as they say. It’s honestly harder to understand the different phrases than getting used to living here. An odd one being ‘yeet’-