Lector Magnus Gottschalk
Veteran Warrior Priest
Bull-necked and with muscles of steel, he wears an iron circlet about his bald head, fashioned with the sigils of Sigmar. His eyes burn with pious rage beneath his beetled brow, and the great silver ring through his broken nose futhers his semblance to an angry ox. His face is crisscrossed with old battle scars, and the twin-tailed comet of Sigmar is branded into his forehead.
Gottschalk is always clad from neck to waist in a heavy steel breast-plate, emblazoned with the cross of the Reikland, his crimson robes swishing about the legs. From his belt hangs sacred relics- the bones of ancient heroes encased in gold, and a vial containing (or so he claims) the blood of Magnus the Pious, engraved with holy runes of battle that imbue it with divine alacrity.
In the last week, Lector Gottschalk’s prayers have been disturbed by flashes of insight. He has seen men with the heads and hooves of wild beasts burning Stromdorf to ashes, the dead clawing from the ground, and a great, ever-hungry maw surrounded by dancing green devils consuming screaming innocents. He has seen the town sunk beneath a fathomless lake. He has also dreamed of heroes arriving from afar, bringing hope amongst the turmoil.