Snow White Hills Blood Bowl Chronicles

On the fifth day of our expedition we lost yet another member of our party, but this time through the predations of the native fauna rather than through disease or malnutrition. Making our way northwest along a shallow, fast-flowing stream, the lead man stopped dead in his tracks, indicating with a petrified expression the water breaking around his feet. All stopped and looked down to the water, where we spied a glossy black tentacle working its way slowly up his leg. Not a man knew what to do, but soon it was too late to da a thing for the poor wretch was yanked most violently beneath the surface where a great commotion went up. In a short moment, the thrashing ceased and silence descended. Then, a great jet of gore ascended, showering all with blood and gristle. Upon wiping the filth from my eyes I discovered myself alone, my companions having demonstrated the good sense to flee for their lives. Seeing the wisdom of their actions I joined them forthwith…: — The journal of Johann Becksbein, day 5