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Welcome to Iaryn Under Dome today is
Marktag the 18th of Pflugzeit, 2505
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Perfect Conditions for Blood Bowl, neither too cold nor too hot. It's a warm, dry and slightly overcast day.
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The village boys never liked me, said I was plain as a pikestaff. They all fancied that Elena as their sweetheart, her with her blond ringlets and - how was it they put it - her mischievous eyes. I showed that bitch, and her little bunch of drooling admirers. The followers of the Lord of Corruption didn't care how I looked, they were all covered with sores and boils and buboes anyway. All I had to do to get the plague-maggots was devote myself to the Great Decay. It's not like I was giving up anything, other than the chance to grow older and uglier alone in the village till one day some zealous Witch Hunter would like as not have burned me anyway, Chaos or no Chaos. It was worth it, knowing what would happen when I shoved the maggots under her door. Took about a week for the fleshh to start rotting off her pretty face, and all of the handsome boys of the village had the same thing happen to them a day of so after her. Hardest part was keeping the smile off my own face as I walked about my business through all that suffering, seeing the mute expression of horror on them all as they became so much less beautiful than I.
— Olga Langenspiesse, miller's daughter in the village of Frundsberg; Nurgle Cultist