For ten thousand years, the seeker of arcane truths known as Ahriman has roamed the galaxy in a quest to acquire every artefact, every tome and every scroll that harbours eldritch powers
The Idoneth Deepkin are a mysterious race of aelves who dwell within the oceans of the Mortal Realms, emerging from their watery seclusion to plunder the souls of land-dwellers – a grim harvest upon which their very survival depends.
The Sons of Behemat are might incarnate. When the gargant tribes are on the stomp, everyone else had better duck and cover if they want to survive. These ill-tempered titans can crush anything in their path, and they challenge anyone to tell them otherwise. They live to fight and revel in their colossal strength, with no enemy they won't batter senseless if given half a chance. Led by the biggest, surliest, and most aggressive of their kind, the Sons of Behemat now march to war united, the land quaking beneath each monstrous tread.
The Thousand Sons advance into battle amidst gouts of kaleidoscopic warpflame and bolts of raw sorcery. The heart of these arcane armies is comprised of Rubricae – implacable warriors who level salvo after salvo against the foe, marching at the command of the mighty Sorcerers and diabolic Infernal Masters who rule their fractured Legion. Around them come shrieking herds of Tzaangor, mutant shock troops armed with cursed blades and dark sorcery.
At first they appear as spectral blurs in the ethersea, distant streamlined shapes that seem to materialise from nowhere. With powerful thrusts of their sickle-finned tails, the forms grow all too quickly as they launch their attack
No troops exemplify the Idoneth Deepkin way of life more than the Akhelian Guard. Mounted atop Fangmora Eels, they fight in a loose formation ideal for rapid assaults and sudden retreats, typifying the hit-and-run style of war common amongst the aelves of the depths.
Shrugging off enemy missiles, the Akhelian Leviadon plunges into the fray. Scythed fins dismember foes while the beast’s powerful jaws clamp down with enough force to crush tempered steel.
Idolised echoes of a bygone era, the Eidolons of Mathlann are summoned to life in times of dire need. These are no divine avatars, however, but collective manifestations of the ancestral souls of the Idoneth Deepkin, spirits of vengeance wrapped in the image of a lost aelven god.
It is the Tidecasters who conjure the phantasmal sea that allows aelf and aquatic beast to move and breathe as if they were in their own natural environment.
Namarti Reavers provide the archers and scouts for the Idoneth Deepkin phalanxes.
Infernal Masters forge pacts with daemonic entities, referred to in the lore of Prospero as tutelaries. Chanting jagged syllables and making promises of blood and souls, they unleash the powers of these malign familiars to engulf their foes in swarms of momentarily corporeal terrors, to divine whispers of the future, or to master the currents of the warp itself.
Once ruler of the gargant clans of the Scabrous Sprawl, the infamous King Brodd now leads the stomps in a crusade against the forces of Sigmar. A legendary priest-king blessed with mystic wisdom, Brodd draws upon an ancient, primal power – as well as his own vast strength – and will stop at nothing to avenge the death of his godbeast forefather.