It is a time of great change in the Mortal Realms. A surge of life sweeps across the eight realms to force back the tide of death left in the Necroquake’s wake, and the forces of Order waste no time in laying claim to the newly rejuvenated land.
Squig Hoppers bound madly into battle, wreaking havoc on anything they collide with. Each hurtling squig has a cackling grot clinging to its back, flailing wildly at nearby enemies as he tries vainly to steer his weird steed.
Warlock Bombardiers are those engineers who develop a particular penchant for weapons that deliver explosive death from extreme range. Their alchemical armaments cause utter devastation wherever they strike home.
The latest creations from the crazed laboratories of the Clans Skryre, Stormfiends are hulking brutes stitched together from a variety of body parts.
The Era of the Beast sees armies clash across all manner of terrain, from fetid bogs and ancient ruins to wind-blasted plains and snow-capped mountains.
Squigs! Little more than mouths with legs and a terrible attitude, these vicious creatures are feared across the Mortal Realms for their rapacious appetites and are often employed by the Gloomspite Gitz on the front lines.
Horrific examples of pure pestilence given form, Verminlord Corruptors live up to their name, existing only to despoil and corrupt.
The ravages of time and the footfalls of hundreds of rampaging armies have laid waste to many of the God-King’s Stormvaults, though the vengeful spirits of the guardians leashed to them still linger.
Rockgut Troggoths have stony hides that are proof against blade, bolt and magical blast alike. Their lumpen claws pass through stone as though it were water, allowing them to scoop up huge clubs and throwing boulders at will. Subtle they are not.
When the Wyldwoods of the Sylvaneth stir, enemies of the natural order must be on their guard. The awakened spirits that dwell within these ancient groves are roused to terrible fury by intrusions into their domain. They seek every chance to prey upon those foolish enough to stray beneath their shadowed boughs.
Driven into battle by their frenzied faith, the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens are a repulsive tidal wave of filth that smashes into their enemies with the power of a flood.
It takes a particularly deranged loon to lead the charge clinging onto a pair of Mangler Squigs, but this Loonboss – along with some of his most bonkers cronies – is only too eager to go bounding into battle, crushing all in his path.