Cyrdic was a bit more used to stink than Camilla. Smelling the armpits of a Norscan as you grappled for your life was about as bad as the sewers, though he had not had the pleasure in some months so it took him a moment to be truly used to the smell. He decided to rip off a piece of his tattered shirt, and he was going to wrap it around his mouth, before he decided to give it to Camilla, wrapping it about her lower face as she took his other pistol. He nearly snorted. She looked like a brigand.

Cyrdic heard Von Koneinswald speak of Sigmar, and he felt an intense surge of righteousness flowing through him as well, only for Ulric. He felt a warmth coming from his sword, and his broad chest swelled, jaw clenching. He knew that up ahead was something that needed to be slain, and swiftly. He caught himself from charging forward when Camilla squeezed his shoulder, and he glanced her way. She was saving his ass even when she didn't realize it. 

He was surprised at himself. Usually he was calm and collected, albeit strong in nature. He'd not felt passion in such a wild and violent sense in a long time. He noticeably sighed, and then willed himself to his normal calm, soldier's reserve. He stepped forward, keeping in front of his two companions with their pistols at the ready. 

He could almost imagine Skaldi muttering about the shoddy humanwork that led to the crack in the wall. Surprisingly, Cyrdic could tell what parts were carved by men and what parts were Dwarf in nature, from the designs that he caught with the lantern-light. Up ahead, the musky scent grew more powerful, and he turned off his lamp as he moved forward. 

Oddly enough, he didn't need it. A sickly, green light emanated up ahead and bathed the next hall of filth in an unnatural light. His breath caught, and he moved forward more slowly, his face looked to be carved from stone. 

Once the three rounded the corner, they would see a grey-furred Skaven, with a horned helm. He held aloft a small glowing rock, that seemed to warp reality around its paw. Luckily, it was not very large and not nearly as potent, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Before the Skaven was a man, cloaked and hidden, reaching for the stone. Six other Skaven flanked the leader, black furred, armored, and carrying wicked halberds.  

"This shall do excellent," the man said in Riekspeil. 

"Be not greedy, man-thing! Tomorrow is the time, not yet. Man-thing must not forget our deal..." the horned one replied, chittering and lashing its tail.
[@Penny]