Head chock full of cold, squinting at my screen through supporating eyes and streaming nose, I wonder what cruel twist of fate the Gods or Demons have played on me this turn. It seems Leverpastej has been buying up another Legion, or rather Ten Thousand Screaming Bastards! Another archfiend or two have been secretly snapping up Toad faced Praetors and ungodly manuscripts for who knows what purpose.
Through all this purchasing mania, I eagerly anticipate my windfall of tribute, from two orders worth of Demands.
What sort of useless minions are in my employ? Do I not deride and flay them enough until their backs are bare? Can they not scoop up some meagre morsel of Hellfire when they know I am so desperate for it? NO, they cannot, it seems.
It seems as soon as you set your soulless eyes on any particular resource, the Wraith of misfortune begins his haunting. ZERO Hellfire this turn! I am incensed at this development. My plan for growth, seems a little too focussed at the moment. Perhaps I should be sniffing around the Bazaar and pulling in artifacts or perhaps another Praetor to stash away for single combat use? No, I’ll stick to my guns for another turn, I’ll roll another two Demand Tribute orders and see if I can get that 4 Hellfire needed to raise my wickedness to level 3!
So another turn rotates in its own grave, until I can begin the harvest that actually yields something.