De Sorte Høge

From the introduction: "Dad dad! Somebody's lying there! There, at the water's edge! Do you think he's dead? See! See! Right there! He's right there!" "Ssh! Relax Dieter. You're completely ballistic. Hurry up and moor the boat, boy. We'll see if he's alive or not. Maybe he has something of value..." The fisherman and his son walked quickly toward the waterline. A lot of beach trash washed up here. Especially now, with the fall storms. The storms that thrashed the small fishing villages until they seemed little more than ruins. "Hmm... he looks like a fine gentleman. No fisherman. If Sigmar be with us, perhaps he'll have some gold on him." "Dad! I think he's alive... see, he's moving! Oh! He looks strange... look at the clothes, and he's got pointy ears! Do you think he's a mutant? Or a chaos demon?" "Ssh, quiet! Dieter, run and fetch the constable. Now, Dieter!" The fisherman stood stiffly and stared at the distant figure. His brow furrowed in recognition. He paled and his hands began to shake. "Manann grant us mercy. It's one of them..."