K is for Knob

Knob. Poor Knob. Faithful Knob. Earnest Knob. Knob the squire. Knob the flea. Knob the load.

Throughout the Empire, there are zealots of every sanctioned and outlawed cult. Always a sight to behold, and sometimes fear, these zealots can be mere street barkers, sign bearers, or the celibate and poor faithful priests serving their cult. On the other extreme are the fanatics, the flagellants, and the gangs of screaming men (and women) throwing themselves on the shield walls of greenskin, zombie, or mutant armies in far flung parts of the Old World.

Knob is closer to the former than the latter. He is an Sigmar anchorite, and a very bad one as he will often find himself much like a hermit, wandering from place to place, alone, only to begin troubling some faithful for company. Knob is often encountered in fervent prayer atop a forgotten pier in a harbor or fallen tree or tree stump in a river. Awakened by a ship's bell or the sounds of men shouting on a passing vessel, Knob will begin earnest calls for attention and passage.

Naked and weak from days of thirst and lack of food, Knob is rarely a help and barely a dutiful hedge for sailors that may honor Sigmar only as the first god to the Empire, but pray for good wind and safe passage from Manann, the god of the Seas and Tides.

Knob always quickly wears out his welcome with his new found companions. He may indeed be a helpful “go-fer" at first, but his presentation dampens his effectiveness. And his constant proselytizing message in  Sigmar laden conversations become tiresome. Many companions will send Knob on an errand to quickly find a way to separate themselves. Most sailors will grow impatient and throw Knob overboard at the earliest opportunity... near a forgotten harbor pier or fallen tree or tree stump in a river.