The Diary of Jean Pierre Piraneau, Gun Mage Captain of Cygnar

I know what I'm doing is wrong. I can't help it. I've got my eye on the prize and I'm not coming back without it. May the commander forgive me...

I've been separated from the main battlegroup for days. They're probably thinking that I'm lying in a ditch somewhere. I'm just hoping they won't get the chance to be right. The doe I've been hunting is much better at this than the last one. She knows the woods like no one else I've seen and she covers her tracks like a ghost. To make matters worse... this damned rain isn't helping!

Movement! Just at the edge of vision. She's curious. She stays just out of sight enough to watch but not be seen. If that weren't true I'd be dead already. Maybe.

I load my pistol. She sees me and she's winding her crossbow. I'm only going to have one chance at this. She doesn't seem like the type to miss. My vision blurs as I call on a different kind of sense... I can see her form, see her move with a cat like grace... aiming at me with steady hands. I face the other direction. Make her think I can't see her. Just one shot...

The bullet speeds past the trees, dodges around trees and cuts through corners. It finds it's mark and punches thru flesh with a muffled sound... like a pebble thrown in a pond.

I open my eyes and notice the bolt in the trunk beside me. The skill of it's maker would be an envy of cygnaran smiths. It looks sleek... well balanced but sharp enough that it can punch thru steel. If my shot came in a heart beat later that bolt would have gone thru my skull cleanly. Time to see the doe. Bring home the prize.

I walked over to where she was. The woman was lying on the ground face up... her eyes wide open in disbelief. Her chest was laboring heavily as blood went out of the entry wound. Her hand shook as she tried to cover the wound. She knows death comes for her but she can't accept it. I kneel beside her and I held her hand to steady it. I can see disgust in her eyes. Perhaps for me. Perhaps for her own failure. Or perhaps for both. She tries to say something but only a gurgling sound comes out. She's bleeding everywhere now. Inside and out.

I put my hand on her forehead. Tell her to keep still. Tell her that we're just soldiers fighting for our freedom. I tell her I know of the pouch she keeps on her right side. That she keeps a collection of tokens taken from our warcasters who never saw her coming. I tell her I understand. I tell her I don't hate her and in turn that she shouldn't hate me. This is what we do.

Tears well out of her eyes. Her chest heaves and she convulses. She lies in a pool of her own blood... looking at me with disbelief...