None embody the cult's willingness to sacrifice flesh, sanity and identity in pursuit of power quite like Old Shacklegut.

Whether it was once an imperial artillery officer, a renegade Allstein engineer or some over-ambitious fleshcrafter is long forgotten. Whatever mortal identity it once possessed has long since disappeared beneath layers of grafted machinery, swollen flesh and rusting iron. Today, Old Shacklegut more resembles a grotesque siege engine than a living being.

Its immense body crawls upon a forest of elephantine limbs, sagging beneath a bloated mass of metal plates, cages, artillery pieces and improvised machinery. Cannons protrude directly from flesh and bone. Chains vanish beneath scar tissue only to emerge elsewhere as functional mechanisms. The distinction between creature and weapon has become impossible to determine.

Unlike many Ascendants, Old Shacklegut possesses a singular purpose: destruction. Entire settlements have been levelled beneath its bombardments, and fortresses that withstood years of siege have fallen within hours of its arrival. Wherever Old Shacklegut marches, walls cease to matter.