“I must be going. There is another village under attack this night, from beastmen.”

The villagers pale at the word, and shudder. They are evidently familiar with these xenos, or what you assume are xenos. You will find out soon.

“You must burn the greenskin corpses. They reproduce through spores from their bodies.”

The villagers look queerly at you, but don’t question it. You evidently know more about the foul creatures than they. Though you doubt their fires will match the ferocity of holy promethium, it will be better than nothing.

“Very well Sir Knight. Sigmar’s blessings be with you!”

You will have to correct these people’s childish delusions about gods, but that must come later. For now, you bid farewell to the villagers of Sudenhutz and go running off to the North, back the way you came. Your helmet readout shows you at 60km/h, a good speed. You wish you had a bike, or even one of the vehicles that the Guard use, but you will have to make do with your armour. You soon pass the town of Hutzheim, a shout going up by the sentries at the gate, but you ignore them. You doubt they have ever seen anything move so fast.

Soon you come to the river, not even a bridge crossing it, but it is shallow, and you are soon on the other side. You run onwards, following the road, little better than a path, and then you are in hilly country with rolling fields illuminated by the pale moonlight, and smoke on the horizon. You can see the glow of fire when you come across them. A small band of inhuman things, which have arms and legs and a head, and there the resemblance with humanity ends. They are covered in fur, or leathery skin, and wear all manner of crude implements upon their wretched hides. Their snouts are elongated like animals, and several have thick horns protruding from their heads. They see you coming, and scream and bay out words in what must be some forsaken tongue, spit and sweat flying through the air, waving weapons only slightly more intelligent in design than the orks. The Beastmen.