He had borne witness to scenes of madness and bloodshed, had seen foul magick performed that twisted the essence of reality, and had seen men possessed by daemons. But nothing prepared him for the sight of the hissing, steaming monstrosity that rolled inexorably forward as it passed through the arched entrance into the massive stronghold that was the Grimbeard Station. “Lady of mercy,” swore Grunwald. Annaliese was equally awed by the beast that approached. As they marched through Black Fire Pass en route to Grimbeard, across earth on which Sigmar himself had walked, he had begun to assess the girl. She seemed pure enough on first impressions, though he knew that such things were often carefully feigned masks. These thoughts slipped away as he gaped at the monstrous machine before them. Only the elf, who Grunwald had learnt was named Eldanair, seemed unimpressed—he watched the proceedings with a look of distaste on his long, pale face, and held a section of his cloak over his mouth and nose to block out the acrid smoke.
