"спойлер ахтунг ахтунг"Out there, the End Times continued, but they would do so without him, and without the Slayer. In short, it no longer felt like his concern.
Aching all over, aching inside, he bent slowly forward to play out the ties that held his mail shirt tight. With his other hand, he reached inside the loosened shirt to withdraw the oilcloth-bound parcel that rested against his heart. He set it upon his lap, carefully unwrapping the protective covering to reveal his leather-bound journal, a quill pen, and a small vial of iron gall ink. He let them be undisturbed a moment more, took a deep breath.
The air tasted stale, used. He had lived half of his life amongst dwarfs, and he had spent enough time underground to know what that meant.
He didn’t have a lot of time left.
Unwinding the string tie that sealed the precious pages of his journal, Felix opened the small book. Its spine creaked, aged beyond its years by disuse. At the same time he unstoppered the ink vial, sharpened a tip into the quill with his thumbnail and dipped it gently in the ink. Then, in the dying light of his sword, he began to write.
Gotrek Gurnisson had found his doom at last.
And Felix Jaeger had an oath to keep.