Spearhead: Stormcast Eternals
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.
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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.
Trugg is the mightiest of all troggoths. A towering mass of strength and ill temper, he carries atop his back an arcane keystone of ancient design, which fuels his already formidable physical might with unpredictable bursts of elemental magic... and gives him a terrible headache.
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.
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Trugg is the mightiest of all troggoths. A towering mass of strength and ill temper, he carries atop his back an arcane leystone of ancient design, which fuels his already formidable physical might with unpredictable bursts of elemental magic. In his wake follows a troggherd of unmatched size, shaking the very realms as they wander from leyline to leyline, wrecking everything in their wake.
Rabble-Rowzas are grots who have taken it upon themselves to rile up the subterranean hordes. These self-important agitators clatter their weapons, stamp their feet, and bellow ‘wakey-wakey’ at deafening volume. So grating are their magically enhanced voices that they can stir even the most stubborn troglodytic titans from their slumber.
Bellowing ‘wakey-wakey’ at deafening volume, Rabble-Rowzas take it upon themselves to rile up the subterranean hordes. So grating are their magically enhanced voices that they can stir even the most stubborn trogg-titans and squiggly beasts from their slumber. When they arrive at a battle, they’re often surrounded by a medley of cranky squigs and mushroom-addled grots.
All dread the coming of the Blades of Khorne – an unholy alliance of mortals and daemons for whom war is an act of worship. These maddened warbands leave no survivors in their wake, making them instead an offering to their bloodthirsty god. In return, Khorne grants them strength and resilience so that they may reap even more skulls for his Skull Throne.
Realmgore Ritualists curse both the enemies of Khorne and the land itself. These bloody-handed mystagogues lay blasphemous hexes upon the foe to sap their strength, and carve bleeding runes into the very earth, invoking gorey miracles and auras of rage that drive their allies to commit relentless acts of sacred violence.
Howling like maddened beasts, the Blades of Khorne hurl themselves upon their prey. These savage killers seek to honour the Blood God by drowning the Mortal Realms in a tide of gore. Armies of scarred and wild-eyed mortals fight alongside daemons born of primal fury, surging forth as one vast and unstoppable red tide. Those in the path of this calamity are swiftly hacked and hewn apart, their severed heads held aloft as offerings to the Lord of Skulls.