I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
-Henry V, by William Shakespeare
The end is nigh. The clock approaches midnight, darkness falls and thousands of torches appear like fallen stars in the hills surrounding Mordheim. Magnus the Pious has united the Empire; now, he marches on Mordheim followed by an army of fanatics. Chants of "Sigmar! Sigmar!" echo from the hills to resonate through crooked alleys, over drooping roofs and across cracked boulevards. Doom has come at last.