The dark passages under Karakh Ddukk were frigid in comparison to the warm halls of Zharr Nagrund. The deeper they went down, twisting tunnels once carved long before by those now not spoken of, the ever closer one drew though to fires among the ice. It is why when the chaos dwarfs took back this outpost ages ago in an attempt to funnel slaves from the north to more seedy traders in the south, they buried deeper than most. With greenskin labor and moneys arranged from caravans to Zharr Nagrund and to points even farther, they gathered materials and established a fair hold on the ancient halls. The deepest of chambers were reserved for the Sorcerers. There were two great doors that blocked off that passage and only the highest of high born and the Tauruk were permitted entry, when summoned. There were times however when great horns would sound, the summons of all, even some of the hobgoblins, were then permitted to gather and wait for word from the sorcerers; it was after all word from the dark father himself.
This time, it was the horn of summons of the highest of sorcerers in all of the Karakh, Jadore Feustein, that had sounded. The troops lined both sides of the great iced hall, a once long stretch of coal now refilled and piled high again. It seems there was hope that filled the halls, though none would admit it, for fear of looking weak. Something was amiss though; Rarely did Feu as they called him in hushed talks, call all to the hall.
With a great thunderous roar, both doors flung open. Great clouds of smoke billowed from the adjacent chambers, filling the hall. The air grew dark, as if enhanced from magics unspeakable, and then at once, the sound of wings flapping could be heard! Feustein atop a glowing mount, massive and impressive flew through the smoke and with a single word, commanded the beast to light the pile of coal. It burst bright, brighter than all the lights elsewhere in the tunnels, and all could feel the warmth again rush from the flames, as the sorcerer announced to all “The Darkfather sends us his child! The fires of Hashut will buuuuuurn long in these halls once again. We will march in 3 cycles of the moon! Kislev will burn, their men will be tributes to the fires of our home, their women will cry and their tears will fill the slave markets of Araby and Ind! The Dawi Zharr, sons of Hashut, will fly our banners over all that oppose us, and we will be Victorious!”
Another model gets closer to completion! Hope you enjoy the shots and my little story to introduce it. It’s taken a bit to get this far. Some flags and some base clean up and the fires of industry march on, this time turning to an Iron beast of ingenius! The Conclave has demanded Iron machines of war! 
