Chronicles of Hedda Bardinsdottir - Green, Giggly, and Disgusting

Lohner may not be any closer (so he says) to finding Hedda Bardinsdottir, but his search has turned up pages from her journal.

From the Rhunikron of Hedda Bardinsdottir

Was just thinking about an old joke me da told me when I was but a wee lass. What’s the difference ‘tween a glob of snot and a green vegetable?

What brought that memory? Well partly I was thinkin’ of me ol’ da and hopin’ he was safe. I have ways of getting information I hear he’s been up to quite a few adventures. Truth be told though, what made me think of that ol’ joke was the fact that we have sickness aboard Grungni’s Whisper. Not one amongst us isn’t snifflin’ or coughin’.

Those with long beards – which is most of the crew – have to be careful. Greenbeard is the kind o’ nickname what can stick with ya the whole voyage, if y’know what I mean...

As a rule, we dawi are a hardy folk. We shrug off discomfort and make light o’ the snivels and complaints of frailer races. And sickness running through our ranks ain’t exactly uncommon, after all, the close quarters and sealed airways of our Nautilus isn’t all that different from the cramped space and stale airways of a mine shaft.

So I’m saying we’ve all caught a dose of this particular misery, and some ‘ave caught it more’n once. But if you think cold seas, bleak weather and gobs of snot would sink our crew’s morale, I’m here to tell you here otherwise. In fact, ya couldn’t find a more cheerful lot, and I’ll tell you why: We’ve ‘ad it worse... way worse.

The crew, at least most of ‘em, remembers when we tangled with a plague fleet enterin’ the mouth of the Black Gulf. The Dwarf fleet formed a box of iron, and our fusillade was fierce – the air filled with shot. Despite being ripped apart by cannonballs, the worm-ridden timbers stayed afloat and that Plague Fleet kept closing. Torpedoes tore even larger holes, but even after our last torpedo was spent they kept coming.

As nothing else would sink ‘em, I ordered full steam ahead. We rammed ‘em and that did the job, but even as the diseased scum were sinkin’ they tried to board us. They outnumbered us, tryin’ to breach our ironplate. we just ‘ad enough time to dive before
they could put some proper holes in us.

The Grungni’s Whisper got down clean, or at so we thought at the time.

Turns out, you just need to get near that disgustin’ lot to catch something. Wasn’t long after the sickness came. And that sickness was a bad ‘un.

Bloatin’ stomachs, heaves worse than any gorog, and the foulest trips to the head imaginable. But it got worse...

At the height of an infection, that which was expunged took form, if ya take my meanin’.

Aye... ye’d cough up a something green, only it started squirming and before yer very eyes it sprouted twisted lil’ legs and arms. ‘Orrible.

Anyhows, that’s how I came to learn ‘bout Nurglings.

They’re wee things, maybe only up to me knee. ‘Tis said they take the form of their patron, the foulest of the Chaos Gods. Dunno if that’s true, but I can tell you they’re foul.

The imps take delight in the crudest of tricks: like using raw sewage to scrawl hateful symbols, yurkin’ streams of vomit, bitin’ ankles with razor sharp teeth, or using claws to scratch undignified fertility symbols on a sleepin’ Dwarf’s face.

The whole ship was infected. Packs o’ the vile things would leap out, play a disgustin’ trick, and then run away, gigglin’ like truants. It was like they disappeared too, squeezin’ into ducts or wedgin’ behind pipework before we could kill ‘em.

But cruel ploys weren’t the worst. Nurglings carry disease, in fact they’re damn well made o’ the stuff. When banded together they could overwhelm and even kill. Yet like I said, we are a hardy race, and we’ve faced the Plague God’s minions afore.

Want to know one of our secrets? Repeated douses of a good ale does the trick right proper. And there are none better’n Bugmans XXXXXX. A few belts of fire whiskey will work wonders too. Also, a few jets o’ super-heated steam will cleanse out even the most infected ductwork! It wasn’t long before our ship was as clean and tidy as Valaya’s own hearth. And that’s how we kept the plague from holdin’ sway on our ship.

Once you go through that... well, it makes fever and some sniffles seem like nothing t’all.

But back to that old joke? Did you guess it? What’s the difference between a glob of snot and a green vegetable? It’s an old ‘un. The answer: children won’t eat a green vegetable! Disgustin’, right?

As for me? It’s a couple slugs of fire whiskey – just to be safe – and back on duty.

Dangerous waters head, but I ain’t worried. Not even a full-blown plague can keep us
down.