Aktywne filtry
The core of a Beastclaw Raiders Alfrostun, Ogors mounted on Mournfangs are always at the vanguard of a raid’s assault. Wielding clubs, blades and pistols, they’re very, very good at blocking an enemy’s attack before laying into them with wild abandon. The beasts they ride are equally fearsome, trampling to a pulp anything and everything unfortunate enough to get in the way.
The Ogor Mawtribes are nomadic empires of brutish juggernauts that range across the lands, raiding and pillaging to appease their insatiable hunger. Iron-fisted Tyrants lead young and bullish Gluttons to war as gnoblar attendants scurry about their feet, supported by roaring blasts from the salvaged cannons of Leadbelchers and Ironblasters while Mournfang riders from the Beastclaw tribes savage the enemy flanks.
Ogors Mawtribes sweep across the realms and devour all in their migratory path, juggernauts of fat and muscle who crush their prey with clubs, rusted blades, and sheer bulk. When the ogors are on the Mawpath, the ground rumbles even above their prodigious bellies. Roars, belches, and booming laughs ring out as they charge, their battering-ram impact a weapon in itself. Mighty warglutts heed the call of blood-smeared shamans, while Beastclaw Raiders ride to battle on behemoths that hail from the cursed blizzard of the Everwinter. To stand in their path is to be devoured.
A master of the wild steppes, a Frostlord leads his ogors into the battles that sustain them. Atop a Stonehorn he is virtually unstoppable, the hooves of his steed grinding enemies into paste. His booming voice directs his raiders to the most vulnerable flanks of the foe – where the Frostlord on Stonehorn rides, brutality follows.
Bloodpelt Hunters seek out the largest and most formidable creatures, stalking them unseen with the guile and ferocity of an alpha predator. When their quarry is within reach, these alarmingly stealthy ogors close in for the kill, maiming it with crude iron crossbow bolts before hacking it apart with axes and machetes.
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.
Mancrusher Gargants often band together under a particularly strong-handed leader, usually known as a Bullstomper. These earth-shaking warbands roam the Mortal Realms, raiding and terrorising civilised lands to fill their grumbling bellies – or marching to war at the call of a Mega-Gargant. In battle, Mancrusher Mobs rampage through enemy lines and gang up on those few creatures that can match their size.
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.
Deathmasters are the greatest assassins of the Clans Eshin, trained in the shadowy arts of stealth and contracted to slay those whom influential skaven deem too dangerous to live. Armed with poisoned ‘weeping blades’ and toxin-laced throwing stars, these supernaturally dextrous killers have slain kings and warlords beyond count.
For centuries beyond counting has the race of malevolent ratmen known as the skaven plagued the Mortal Realms. Arrogant, avaricious and utterly without mercy, the skaven seek to annihilate every other sapient creature – expanding, multiplying, and consuming everything in their path until they alone rule over the decaying husk of reality. Those who defy this vision are overwhelmed by swarms of frenzied, red-eyed warriors, weaponized plagues, monstrous beasts and lightning-spitting war machines. Arise, Children of the Great Horned Rat!
Clanrats mass into huge clawpacks, their vast numbers bolstering their courage and allowing them to surge across the battlefield and overwhelm the enemy, regardless of the hideous casualties they suffer along the way.
As deadly as they are graceful, the warlike aelves of the Daughters of Khaine seek to spill sacred torrents of blood in the name of their violent deity. Shaped by drops of Khaine's own blood, the elite Melusai Ironscale leads her slithering Blood Stalkers into battle. As their heartseeker arrows hiss overhead, Doomfire Warlocks fling howling bolts of dark magic and frenzied Witch Aelves leap into battle, eager to make an offering to the Bloody-Handed God.