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The Black Metal Armor that Lucian wore was like an icy coffin. Covering his entire body, the metal easily lost all the heat that was built up in the lower lands of Bretonnia. Unlike his body the metal armor that was worn around him did not need to conserve its heat, it did not need to stop the cold air from seeping into the numerous joints and gaps that were all about his body.
The Knight thought his armor was impervious. Daggers from Goblins and the Axes of Orks failed to pierce the hardened armor of Dwarfen Reinforced Iron. He had faced the horror from Hell itself and yet he was victim to the blazing cold winds that passed through the area.
Perhaps, the Knight realized, this was because winter was indeed near. Perhaps the Gods of the winter storms hanged their hats on these mighty mountain tops and when the time came released their children across the forest and plains of Bretonnia. There they did battle with the Goddess of Mercy, the Lady, and Mann thus warming the winter for all who live there.
Here they were stepping into the domain of those frosty gods that not even the Dwarfs revere. Lucian wondered for a moment if perhaps that lord was Ulric, that beastial lord that the Empire loves almost as much as they do Sigmar. Perhaps they are those nameless gods, not those of Chaos but either so far away or desolate for anyone in Bretonnia to even know. They only know of their presence because of Winter’s Bite.
And indeed the Winters bit. It slithered through the armor and onto the numerous layers of clothes that Lucian had wore. The Fabric only doing so much better than the armor as Lucian could feel the winds pouring through the small pores of the cloth he wore. He even wore a scarf underneath his helm, both on in an attempt to delay the encouching cold of the Grey Mountains.
Lucian’s fight was not personal, for the two coldblooded Lizards had been fighting it as well. It was because of them that they had grown to a crawl like this. The mighty Bok, a monster who slaughtered hundreds of Skaven, was being kept warm but the mystic powers of his Skink Master Tee-Nee-Tyny.
The Lizard, for all his mastery of magic, was in a losing fight. He focused on keeping his companion from freezing over and thus began wearing several layers of clothes just like a man would.
Adok did not say anything. The Dwarf was wearing a large scarf that revealed only his eyes. Pulled by Truffles, the white donkey who did not complain, the two were like silent patrolman sort of accustomed to these conditions. Perhaps it was the Runesmith’s experience that was giving him an edge against all of them.
