Motivations

The city lights stretched along the coast like a ribbon, this city was a thin strip of land between some overlarge hills and the ocean, a sight that would have been overwhelmingly unimportant in the eyeless sight of the Everblight except for the rumours that had been surfacing. If they were to be trusted the servants of the Everblight had found another one of the surviving dragons, he would need the athank if he was to be able to challenge the dragonfather. He could sense the minions of the dragonfather, they were close and would be seeking the same prize.

The Cygnarian commander hated serving on the eastern border, the glory always seemed to go to the west and the fight against the Cryx and the money to the north and the fight against Khador. Here on the eastern border was only constant warfare, dirt and misery and now he would have to share even that. His royal highness King Leto had seen fit to send another commander to Wollonogong, some upstart from the south had been sent to help deal with a perceived invasion threat. He doubted that this threat would turn out to be anything  more than the drunken ramblings of bored villagers but this new commander would be trouble enough. His family had strong ties to Vinter Raelthorne and there had been suspicious incidents in his previous command. The Skorne were becoming more daring in their push into Cygnar, so much so the city itself had become a target and now he was to share command with a man who may or may not be working with them. Nothing good would come of this.

Madrak was hopeful. It was not an emotion he felt at ease with. If history was any indicator hope was not an emotion Madrak was meant to feel. He and Doomshaper had travelled with a small band to the city of Wollongong in the hope of destroying the thrice cursed axe that was causing Madrak to shun his own people in what could be their final struggle. Rumour had it that a dragon was hiding somewhere close to the city and Doomshaper believed that if they could find the dragon they would have a way to finally destroy Rathrok and lift the curse on the trollkin chieftain.

The formation of the Khadorian force would have looked comical to any outsider, the troops looked to be trying to protect themselves more from their own commander than any attack from opposing forces. It was however no laughing matter, the mental instability of commander Zoktavir was starting to become more of a threat than the coming conflict with Cygnar. Rumour had it that this madness was what had caused Empress Vanar to send him to so far away from the current front in the war against Cygnar. No one knew any more whether his uncontrolled rage would push the khadorians to victory or see their carefully laid plans destroyed and armies routed. Now these men were far from the motherland and under the command of a madman with only the most tenuous grasp on reality. Few were confident of returning home alive but none were willing to risk the wrath of the butcher of Khardov so they marched on and tried to avoid catching the attention of their commander.