Crazy joe, once a highly decorated soldier of the empire now a jibbering tramp, roamed the streets of mordheim looking for the easiest way to get a drink.
The warmth was familiar, he put his hand down the back of his pants. Joe coughed and flung a hunk of phlem out of his mouth into the open gutter running down the side of the road. He smelt his finger, the thick pundgent smell hit the back of his throat. He smeared his hand down the front of his once white shirt and picked up his sword with both hands. Words were continually spat from his mouth but no-one else bothered to listen. The young man stood next to him looked nervous, his face sweaty and pale. A large grin spilt over Joe's face, the blood would come soon he could sense it. In the distant streets the sounds of war echoed off the ruins, the clash of swords and screams of the slain. Above him marksmen fired crossbow bolts into enemies he could not see. Joe's patience had ran out, he no longer cared about the men stood by him. Murderous rage filled his mind, he let out a deep roar and charged forward towards the battle in the street.
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