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  1. Frostlord Ótambær sat astride his Stonehorn, the cold whisper of the Everwinter everpresent on his mind. Ahead lay conflict and violence, war and ruin. Many thought the Raiders were cold, unthinking beings, little more than ravenous beasts. This couldn’t be farther from the truth. They prided themselves on honour and power, challenging themselves to ever greater feats of martial strength. Ótambær embodied this nobility. He was a warrior borne from the most steadfast lineage, a proud follower of the Great Predator. But his was not a story of glory, but of tragedy. Almost a century ago, he and his Alfrostun had struck a bargain with Sigmar. Their people, the wives and children, would be free from the clutches of the Everwinter, allowed to settle in the cold regions of Azyr. Once a year the Vetefreki would be allowed to return home, to see their people and their lands untouched by the Everwinter, to father new songs and sing new songs. On this day, the Gull-Vetrar, the Golden Winter, they would know piece. In exchange, the Vetrfreki warriors would take on an even greater curse, to further the Golden Gods goals. Ótambær and his warriors would roam the realms, hunting the denizens of chaos and destroying their corruption wherever they dwelt. No mortal food could satiate their hunger, only beings borne from chaos would fulfill them. And yet, the Vetrfreki were viewed as legends by their people. Ogors far and wide would come to join their ranks, to be a part of the Alfrostun that beat the Everwinter. Their city grew ever larger, expanding until the city of Ríkfirjalís was a bastion for Ogors. Ótambær had lived a long life, and had won many battles. His hall was filled with trophies, his name sung in great ballads across the realms and his sons were mighty warriors all. But a great sorrow had settled in him, biting deeper than any cold. Decades ago, his elska, his bride, had been killed in retaliation by Daemons. The red skinned cowards had ambushed her and tortured her for days, whispering her screams into Ótambær’s dreams. He had taken many brides since then, and all had bred him mighty sons who filled his belly with pride, but he knew he would never be at peace until the Daemon that had taken her life was his to he devoured. Skarbrand would fall. Hey guys, so I finally got around to painting my Beastclaw Raiders and wanted to put a bit of backstory to them. I envision them as tragic, Norse like warriors, who live for the thrill of battle. Very little of where they come from is shown in their Battletome so I came up with my own take on their settlements and culture. I want to have them painted up before February, so hopefully this goes quickly. I’ve started work on some allied in Ironguts, who are represented by Mantic ogres as they looked a little more feral. These three are Ótambær’s eldest sons, and they accompany him as his elite bodyguard. Frœken (the bald one), Garpir (the ponytail) and Vaskir (the dreadlocks) are all brave warriors, and will someday lead their own Alfrostuns. Frœken is the oldest and most serious of the three, whip Vaskir lives to fight and is somewhat of a berserker. Garpir views himself as a conqueror or settler at heart and wants to expand Ríkfirjalís into an empire. I’ve also begun two giants who I got as a gift. I don’t know how often I’ll use them but I love the models. Their names are Berja (the horned one) and Lemja (the top knot). They were rescued from a Khornate sacrifice by Ótambær and have followed him ever since, the Azyrite magic infused in him also sleeping into their veins. I have four Mournfangs, a Frostlord on Stonehorn (Ótambær) Thundertusk with two beast riders and four Frost Wolves (played as Sabers) also ready to be painted. Unsure what I should use for my last few hundred points, suggestions welcome!
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