Aktywne filtry
This book offers all the knowledge and rules you need to command your own grot horde in games of Warhammer Age of Sigmar. Discover the petty and vindictive history of the grots, learn the legends of the Bad Moon, and find out how the Era of the Beast has energised them anew.
The Gloomspite Gitz are cunning and vindictive in the extreme, their deranged grotty minds forever spinning up fresh tricks and vicious ploys. Dismiss the cackling cruelty of the grots, the hungry ferocity of their squigs, and the thoughtless strength of the cavern-dwelling troggoths at your peril – these are the true children of the Bad Moon.
Veteran squig-herders who muster ravening packs of cave-beasts, Squigbosses don’t so much command their fungal herds as offer incentives of potent mushrooms, balanced by occasional jabbings from their squig-krooks. Most go to battle accompanied by loyal Gnasha-squigs, who gleefully chomp at anything that gets too close – this predatory pet is often their closest friend, for other grots find anyone that even a squig won't eat to be deeply suspect.
Snarlfang Riders prowl at the flanks of a Gloomspite horde, mounted atop cruel, wolf-like beasts raised as steeds from birth. These opportunistic cavalry-grots gleefully hunt down the enemy, loosing volleys of barbed arrows before their ferocious Snarlfang partners pounce upon the foe and tear them apart with fang and claw. Estranged from their subterranean Moonclan cousins, the plains-dwelling Gitmobs join Gloomspite throngs as mercenaries and outriders in a grudging truce fuelled by shared hatreds.
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.
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.
The air screams as Magnus the Red descends from the skies, and stone runs molten beneath his shadow. Cyclopean son of the Emperor of Mankind, his very presence is anathema to logic.
Twisted arcanists, wicked of intent and strange of form, Exalted Sorcerers have an encyclopædic knowledge of spells and are able to bend reality to their desires.
Scarab Occult Terminators were once the finest psykers in the Thousand Sons Legion, bodyguards to Magnus the Red himself. Reduced to dust along with their brethren, they now possess only an echo of their previous intellect.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust.
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
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.