Snow White Hills Blood Bowl Chronicles

You hold in your hand the work of a lifetime. To compile this tome I travelled thousands of miles, learned dozens of languages, fought to save both my life and my soul, lost my left hand and nearly my tongue! Though age now dims my eyes, I can go to Morr's Realm content that no finer study of the monsters of the Old World has yet been written. The greatest irony of all is that I had no intention of writing a book such as this when I first became of a man of letters. When I was young, I had just graduated from the University of Altdorf when I had my first run in with a true monster. I was riding to Wurtbad to see my family when I came upon a scene of carnage in the forest. A war herd of Beastman had attacked a group of pilgrims and killed them to a man. It was a gruesome sight, more so because a lone Beastman had stayed behind to feed on the rather large corpse of a cheese maker. When I came upon the scene, the creature looked up from its meal. I can still see its goat head and horns and the bestial cast of its features. I can see the way its bloody mouth foamed when it realised there was fresher meat on the road. I can see the black depths of its eyes and the cruel barbs of its blade. I drank in this scene, dumbstruck, as the Beastman leapt over corpses and raced for my horse. After years at the university, I was so used to studying things objectively that it took me precious seconds to realise that this was not the moment for detachment. This creature meant to kill me and I needed to do something about it before the Beastman used my vitae to wash down the cheese maker. I managed to draw, cock, and fire my pistol and just in time too. The Beastman was in mid-leap when my pistol ball caught it in the chest and ended its life. As it lay dying, the creature spoke, or so it seemed to me. It was no language I had heard before, however. Fascinated, I dismounted and approached the dying Beastman. It looked at me with those eyes and seemed to curse me as it died. I stood there for a long time, staring at the corpse. The Beastman was a monster, clearly, but what more did we know about such creatures? It had language surely and the Beastmen seemed to have a society of sorts. What was it that made them monsters, I wondered? And what could Humanity learn of such creatures to safeguard itself against further depredations? To unearth such truths and to expand the knowledge of our glorious Empire—that would be a worthy undertaking, I decided. And that is how it began. My curiosity blossomed into a series of journeys, each more perilous than the last. Fifty years I spent on the road, gathering up all the information I could find. I should have died a hundred times over but Fate was my guide. I persevered and over the years the Work took shape. The result of these decades is Perilous Beasts: A Study of Creatures Fair and Foul. You will no doubt notice, gentle readers, that much of this book consists of quotations or transcribed testimony from witnesses, experts, and even the witless. It was my intent to show the breadth of opinion and thought on these creatures, with words from the most ignorant peasant to the most eminent scholar. I have also added my own thoughts, based on my research, interviews, and findings. Should Shallya grant me more years, I may yet write of my own adventures compiling this book, but such details are not germane to the work and my hubris is not such that I must make this book into my story. I began this tome as a search for truth and while I'm certain there is truth in these pages, even I can't tell you exactly where it lies. I have sought to illuminate the threats that face the Old World but only Lord Sigmar can protect us from the machinations of evil and the enemy within. May he guide and watch over us all.: — Odric of Wurtbad