Mordheim, that name sent shivers down Ludovic Grimm’s spine. Sure, he was an experienced hunter of the corrupt, the twisted, and the unholy, but all those perversions of what was natural and good existed in Mordheim in unfathomable quantities and scope. Still, he felt that his long career had prepared him for this greatest test. Because what good is a witch hunter who does not seek out the ultimate evil, but is satisfied with defeating lesser horrors. While it is prudent not to run headlong into the pinnacle of horror at the outset, and be devoured absentmindedly, it is also cowardice not to assail the highest manifestations of horror once one is capable enough.
Capable enough is what Ludovic felt. He had assembled a group of experienced coven hunters. Zigmund, Gottlieb and Thilo had rarely left his side the last few seasons of hunting and he trusted them to stand firm against any abomination. Even their small pack of wardogs had ripped out the throats of many vile creatures and would not run yelping from even daemons made flesh. His other companions, two half-mad flagellant zealots, and Otto, the dour Warrior Priest, were more recent additions to his band of hunters, but they seemed steely and determined enough. In any case, they would have to prove themselves against the horrors of the City of the Damned soon enough.
The wagon bounced uncomfortably across the worn out cobbled road leading towards the city walls. Several groups of adventurers and treasure seekers made their base in tented camps outside the walls, where various merchants took advantage of their poor planning and logistics. These same merchants then preyed further still on those that made it out of the city with their loot, all sorts of valuables from the once great city, and most of all with fragments of cursed warpstone. It was an unholy alliance and reminded Ludovic of exploitative strip mines he had visited in the Grey Mountains back when he was a young Reikland soldier.
But Ludovic’s group was not here for adventure. They were not here for loot. they were here to destroy evil, cut it apart, banish it, burn it. Until none remained. Or at least die trying. Ludovic pulled out the small sigil he wore around his neck and kissed it. Sigmar preserve us!
