Stormcast Eternals are each forged in Azyr by Sigmar's own hand. Riding thunderbolts, they arrive on the battlefield with an ear-splitting thunderclap, ready to face the forces of Chaos, Death and Destruction.

Ionus Cryptborn is a living legend, descending like a silent shadow over the most beleaguered of battlefields. His prayers are capable of calling down wicked maelstroms of lightning that can smash through sieges, and electrocute armies.

Ionus Cryptborn is a living legend who descends like a silent shadow over the most beleaguered battlefields on the back of his terrifying Draconith, Cthorak. Accompanying him into battle are his Stormwing – a pair of mighty Stormdrake Guard who ride their own impressive Draconith mounts. When a host of mighty Draconith, such as these, take flight, they unleash the most righteous fury of Sigmar.

From scions of the Dark Gods to marauding orruk warlords, threats to Sigmar’s people lurk in every corner of the realms. Neave Blacktalon, the God-King’s foremost assassin, is tasked with puting down these fell champions. In battle, Neave travels upon winds of magic to unleash storms of never-ending axe blows. Fighting alongside her are the Blacktalons, a band of tightly knit companions, each a warrior of deadly renown.

Moving like a ghostly cyclone, the creatures known as Bladegheist Revenants spin in a frenetic fashion. They are souls taken from those who met particularly tormenting ends – those sealed in spike-riddled encasements, choked beneath water or buried alive. Their last living thoughts were a frenzy of desperation, a last flurry of defiance in an attempt to break free. Thanks to Nagash’s terrible curse, that horrible ending moment has been preserved forever in the Bladegheist Revenants.

Only the bold dare enter the Gnarlwood, a deadly forest where the very trees uproot themselves to feast upon the flesh of living. Yet glory and riches await those few who can endure this hellish environment, for at the heart of the forest lies Talaxis, the legendary Ravening Ruin, its shattered vaults filled with a thousand artefacts of incalculable power. From the deranged plague-alchemists of the Rotmire Creed to the fanatical demolishers of the Horns of Hashut, warbands from across the realms seek to claim these priceless treasures – and will gladly slaughter anyone that stands in their way.

The Scriptors Mortis record the rise of Nagash’s empire and punish any who would stand against it. With a mere flick of a quill, they sentence souls to be dragged to the underworlds, condemning them to an eternity of torment. It is said that the quill is mightier than the sword – in the spiteful scribblings of the Scriptors Mortis, this metaphor is made real.

From Shyish, the Realm of Death, come the ethereal Nighthaunt – incorporeal spirits driven to murder by their bitter hatred for the living. These spectres are the terror weapon of the Great Necromancer, united under the cruelest and most tortured rulers ever to die. At the command of a wretched Knight of Shrouds, swirling hordes of vicious Chainrasps drag down enemies for the cold scythes of maddened Grimghast Reapers, while Spirit Hosts of damned souls turn blood to ice with a touch.

From Shyish, the Realm of Death, come the ethereal Nighthaunt – terrifying spectres driven to murder by their bitter hatred for the living. These undead are the terror weapon of the Great Necromancer, united under the cruelest and most tortured rulers ever to die. Their cold grasp reaches across the Mortal Realms, spreading a paralysis of fear amongst the living souls they once called kin, a howling host that will leave only an endless landscape of corpses and wailing spirits remains.

In his mortal life, Awlrach promised aid and safe transport to desperate travellers, only to send his victims to a grisly death in the briny deeps. When Awlrach’s spirit made its way to Nagash, the reward for his treachery was an eternity of service. Now this sinister boatman dredges up wayward souls to bolster the Nighthaunt hosts, and ferries them through the ethereal plane to wherever they will cause the most terror.

The Craventhrone Guard serve Kurdoss Valentian and any who share his aims. Bitter and spiteful even compared to other Nighthaunt, these spectral sharpshooters relish lining up enemy champions in their sights, sending them to an early grave without fanfare or mercy. Though they enforced Valentian's will in life, the Craventhrone Guard are now are cursed to torment him, shooting down his prey before he can truly claim the glory of the kill.

Even amongst the gloried ranks of the Stormcast Eternals and the star-born hierarchy of the Children of Dracothion, only the mightiest and noblest are chosen to lead an Extremis Chamber.