There is something in the way he moves, fights, or even speaks, that is somewhere between that of a living creature and some kind of mechanical device, like those automatons that the noble and the learned enjoy so much. On the battlefield, he becomes a whirl of steel, insect-like limbs and blood, and his rasping voice booms out like a roll of thunder. I have seen his opponents, be they men, damned ones or devils, freeze with fright, or even collapse, when hit by the shock-wave of his roar. That cry of doom announces the charge of the multitude he 4commands: before him march the polished leather, the rusty steel, the fangs, the feathers, and the scales of the accursed menagerie that follows him wherever he goes. Like a merciless wind, they fall upon the enemy, blind to the danger, deaf to the pleading screams, but certainly not mute: when their choral voice answers that of their master, it is as if all the trumpets of Jericho had begun to sound. There are no walls, no hearts, that can resist such an uproar.
Miniatures are supplied unpainted and assembly may be required.