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The Tale of your Army!

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So I figured that I'm not alone in that behind the logical mathematics and visual choice of what army to collect and what models to field there is some semblance of narrative woven into the army. That puts flesh on the bone as it were and gives your army its own flavour and style. It might be just a few light thoughts here and there; details on a few units or heroes or be an extensive deep re-writing of the core of the army faction! 

Course locked in ones head or collecting dust in the corners of a blog is no good, so I figured make a thread on it and people can share and update their army rosters and stories as they go! 



My own Daughters of Khaine

Shadow Hound riders. 


Trust is a fickle thing and in the realms of Morathi trust is something that she has very little of. Whilst her peoples thrive and grow in strength and number so too do the weaker souls of men that she has bred, grow in their own strength. Even through twisting their society to put the heel hard upon their male counterparts and partners, the men of Khaine still have those few who rise to a greater power than she'd like.

Those males who show not just greater strength, but also a magical inclination are not let free to choose their path in life and are instead pressed into her service directly. To ride into battle with blade, bow and spell to deliver death to her foes; and to wear the seals upon their brow that she inscribes upon them. Seals that will let her kill with a thought if they step out of line; if they would dare to rise against her or her desires. Seals that she hopes she will never have to use and yet would have no pause to use if the need arose, or if the desire arose.

But a seal still requires one to be aware of such transgressions to make use of the magic they hold within. Thus Morathi has started to have her Witches train with the Warlocks. To place within each coven one female, a witch aelf strong in mind and body and magic. Yet not quite strong enough to rise against her superior sisters and Queens, but enough to control and oversee the weaker males.

Few temples as yet make use of these and it can be hard to find those witches who will not just rise to the position, but are willing to be bound to it. To be forever sealed in rank to that of the Warlock, to command them and to focus their magic.

As a boon and means to still the discontent that some of these rare witches can feel, they are encouraged to challenge themselves against the wilds of the shadowlands. To pit their luck against beast alone to prove their strength to both themselves and their sisters. Yet by pitching them against the wilds instead of their sisters they might never gain in rank or influence. Protecting them in their station whilst sating their desire for challenge and blood.
It was from these trials that one sister returned to her temple not alone, but with a mighty shadow hound trailing in her wake. A beast she had fought and tamed in the wilds, one who bore many scars upon its furred hide and spoke of a life in the wild as violent as any in the fighting pits of the temples of Khaine.

A beast worthy to carry her into battle and to further show her superiority over the males in her coven who ride into battle atop dark, sharp fanged horses. Though it took many months of training to have even the steely cold war horses stand quite beside the hound and many more to have the hound stand beside the horses without tearing into them when its rider was not present to direct its feral instinct.

Thus in battle the warcry of a wild sister matched with that of a bellowing hound can be heard atop the thunder of hooves and the whiplash of dark shadow magic. A sound that strikes fear into the hearts of foes; fear of bolts through the skies; of shadow tendrils choking the life from them and of wild blades and sharp fangs tearing into their flesh.


Blood Hounds -


Gryph hounds are loyal creatures of the celestial who by choice of their own come down from those high cities to the mortal realms to fight alongside their Stormcast allies. Strong and fleet of claw and sharp of hearing and seeing they dart here and there at the the heels of the Stormcast; either hugging close to give warning on any who might try to delude and sneak up upon them; or charging forward in a pack to tear and claw at those who would stand against them. 

Some, however, appear to have chosen others to run with, though how a pack wound itself into the dark and shadowy embrace of the Daughters of Khaine is unknown. Some have thought that perhaps they were saved from a loss, when their Stormcast masters were struck down in battle and even the Daughters in alliance were forced to flee. Others, in hushed whispers, speak of how Witches are known to kill even their allies in challenges of battle prowess when on the battlefield; thus that when the hounds had charged into the fry, their Stormcast allies were struck down in secret by the Witches. 

However it came to be these Gryph Hounds are no normal hounds. As agile, strong and loyal as any other the most striking difference is how they fight in combat. A touch more aloof from their newer Khanite allies, they strike out alone into the battlefield. Their beaks and razor sharp claws tearing and rending at the enemy. Yet not in mindless animal ferocity, instead they carve and slice with the same delicate almost dancing skill of the Witches that soon surround and join them in the battle. So much so that when their enemies are down the Gryphs have been seen to pluck the hearts from the fallen; consuming them whole or bearing them in offering to a Witch Aelf. Indeed within this temple it is considered quite the honour to be gifted a Hounds Heart from battle. But not all enemies earn that reward; in the throws of battle the hounds are as apt to throw themselves at the enemy; impaling them upon the chest spikes that punch through plate, mail and skin to stab the live beating heart within. 



Snapbeak's Betrayl 
She was leader of a pack who had endured many a brutal battle against those who would stand against the Stormcast. Who selflessly led her pack and her own young to war and into the very heart of the maelstrom of blades, blood and gore. To tear out the throats of orks, to slash at the chests of men and to open the bellies of chaos warp spawn. 
She, nor her pack, never showed any fear nor hesitation in battle. Always swift to move at their own intuition or at the command of their Lord-Castellant. To fight and die alongside their allies.

Yet over the years something in her started to change and thought started to worry itself at the edge of her mind. 

She stood upon a vantage point next to her Lord Castellant and watched as a portion of her pack and Stormcast rallied and charged into the oncoming hoard of Chaos beasts. A mind twisting menagerie of Khorne and Tzeentch beasts that twisted reality around them with blue flame and sliced through armour and hide alike with long brutal blades. Those charging seeking to lay their lives down to protect the baggage train that followed the bulk of the army they were supporting. A valiant effort; a noble death; a waste of life. At that moment that worrying thought started to fill her mind...

Here was her pack, her people, her kind dying for the Stormcast. Laying down their lives to protect the world from Chaos. Yet the Stormcast were not paying the same price in life. Though their bodies are torn and burned; disembowelled and decapitated just as her hounds were, they had nothing to fear. Even the Lord beside her would one day perish in battle once more and yet return to her side reborn, reforged. They were not sacrificing themselves; they were not laying down their lives and their bodies; they were laying down just metal and flesh. A pause in their life; an inconvenience. They would return, they would be alive again on the morrow to continue the fight and to live their lives, whilst her hounds would be laying there still on the battlefield; their bodies picked over by crows and burrowed into by worms. 

Her mind numb to the noise of war, her voice silent. Ignoring the cries of her Lord to call more of her back to the defence. Her first hesitation letting those Chaos start to turn the tide. Her hatred of the Chaos for a moment stilled as she glanced up with a fury at her so called ally. 

It was within that moment that a new voice arose in the din of battle; a screaming high pitched cry of pleasure and joy and fury all mingled together into a furious choir. The scream enough to break her moment of hate and clouded judgement; drawing her head down to peer at those joining the fray. Witch Aelves from the rearguard had pushed forward and were now sprinting toward the failing flank. Blades flashing and bodies dancing as they leapt over hound and Stormcast and into the body of writhing Chaos. Though they danced and twirled; though they parried blades and claws and beaks many fell. Their bodies hardly covered with cloth let alone armour to protect them. Yet witch after witch threw herself into the battle without pause or concern for their own safety; all that could be told of them was the fury and joy of their cry and the flash of their blades. There was real sacrifice; there was real hate and desire to give ones self fully to the war against Chaos. There was a wild almost bestial brutality of battle; of bodies twisting and bending to avoid the blade; only to bite back hard with a flash of steel. 

Such was the sudden fury of the aelves that the Chaos raid was broken; their muddled mess of ranks shattered and their bodies breaking into nothing. The battle was over, though her Lord would stand no longer at her side. When the Aelves returned from their bloody fight and began to sacrifice those hearts that they had harvested from the field to the Cauldron that accompanied them within the allied force there were others who followed them. Sharpbeak leading her pack advanced upon the Witches and laid upon the palms of the Hag Queen who led them her own offering of a bloody heart. From whence it came no witched cared to ask, not would even expect an answer from a Hound, though the message from her and her pack was clear in the giving. 
It was said though that her former Lord was not seen within the army after that battle and that, when he was reforged and returned he would never say anything of Sharpbeak nor her pack, nor of how he managed to fall when he was so far from the front. The only thing to be marked was that he never again trusted a gryph hound by his side. 

Khinerai Assassin.


The Shadowblade order that has continued to operate to preserve the world from the infection of chaos has sometimes had cause to send agents into the shadow realms. To infiltrate those dark and bloody temples of the Witches to see what secrets might be held within. Of those assassins few if none return from these missions. What kills them in the dark is unknown; what madness or monsters the Witches keep secret are theirs and theirs alone to know.

However from those dead have arisen the Witches answer to the Shadowblades. Their own assassins, trained in many of the dark and deadly arts of the shadowblades, yet also possessed of one singular advantage. The wings gifted to them from birth and creation by the High Oracle Morathi and which define the harpies of the witches, the Khinerai. Only a few train as the assassins of their people; deadly and fast fighters who excel at twisting the shadows around them; pulling not spears from the ether like their sisters, but sharp daggers - some blessed with such darkness that their very touch will whither and decay flesh.*

Khinerai Darkwings.


Sometimes from the bloody pools of creation there are those khinerai who rise slower from the depths. Those who seem to struggle, to thrash and might even cry out as they ascend to the surface. Weighted down with a heavy burden from birth that can so easily kill them before they can mature. Wings formed not of membrane stretched over thin fingers; but thick full feathers of dark like the shadows. These thick wings would carry any who are not strong enough to their death before their true birth. Yet there are those who struggle and survive; who pull themselves up and free. 

Of these rare Khinerai many rise to the highest ranks within the flocks. Their bodies that bit tougher, their minds that bit sharper, their wings thicker, fuller and faster on the currents in the air. Perhaps its because they are different that they find they must train all the harder to excel and rise to their expected status; perhaps the wings show that their bodies are a little better, more developed, than that of their sisters; perhaps feather instead of membrane hints at a more natural winged aelf than purely the twisting of chaos**. 

In battle they stand out as the leaders of flights as they swoop down from the skies; guiding their sisters into the heart of battle to deliver a swift blade or spear to where it is needed to tip the battle for the witches below. 

Khinerai and the Stormcast Eternals!


To the Daughters of Khaine battle is their worship and the battlefield their temple to Khaine. To that end they train like no other force; they match themselves against each other in brutal combat in order that those who go to the temple of war are the best. The fittest, fastest, strongest and most agile.

Once unleashed upon the battlefield they scream in cries of joy, their bodies flushed with energy and life as they dance without restraint for their God. This battle fever is not mindless, it is coordinated and structured (though onlookers of less experience might not see such fine woven threads of order within the chaotic beauty of the dance). However there comes a time when the enemy is fleeing and beaten that an Aelf's desire to prove herself, to match her strength against her foes is left wanting. When she's riding that high exhilaration of battle and the enemy is not rising to meet it. 

In such times its been known for them to turn on allies as much as upon foes. Slicing into them with as much battle lust as they would any foe. Strangely if their allies fight back against them its not taken as mark of betrayal but of a show of strength; a fact that plagues the Stormcast Eternals more than any other. 

The Daughters subscribe to the simplistic and brutal view of "survival of the fittest" and seek to endlessly prove themselves through their combat. To that end when the Stormcast arrived upon the Realms they were not just the shining beacon of hope and restoration that many saw them as. To the some of the Daughters of Khain they were an insult. A mark that they had not been strong enough to fight back the Chaos legions, and none felt this more so than those forged from the pits of Slaanesh's belly. To some Khinerai the Stormcast were a slur upon their battle prowess to such an extent that they would seek them out during the chaos of battle (once the tide had turned of course, for they were no fools to give into battle lust like any common barbarian). To match themselves and strike them down as proof of their superior skill and strength. However when it became known that Stormcast struck down would return anew this inflamed those seething embers. Thus Khinerai have been seen flying to battle with the golden helms of Stormcast dangling from their hips, a mark of one they've slain and in hope that when that warrior returns they will seek out that mask on the battlefield once more. That enough of their mind and memory will survive the reforging to prove themselves once more. Thus ensuring that the Khinerai can endlessly prove herself the greatest, or die in the trying. Thus proving that the Worshippers of Khaine are the most mighty upon the battlefield. 

*I fully realise that the established lore would more strongly suggest that if Daughters had assassins they'd be more likely to be Melusai than Khinerai.  

**Some might say that perhaps its the cunning tricks of Tzeentch showing through the chaos corruption; however such fools as those to air such thoughts quickly find themselves impaled upon the spear or arrow of one of Morathi's own Melusai

Edited by Overread
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Clan Mors.

one of the strongest verminus clans, which is also known to bring out the most brutal and cunning skaven warlords and Stormvermins.

Now they have reclaim-stolen most of the dwarfen kingdom in chamon, kill-slaughtered them almost of existence.

and renamed their new home to “ city of Pillars.

still some dwarf-things remain alive, trying to retake what ones was theirs.

But under the banners of clan mors, one warlord, more cunning then others, infamous for his brutality has risen to the top.

Rumors say that this brutal skaven has lived in the old world,  died and been revived again.

nobody knows for sure only that his name is well hated by dwarthings and was mentioned many times in the book of grudges “Queek Headtaker”.

Edited by Skreech Verminking
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The Pallid Legions of Slaanesh

The Pallid Legion travelled to the Realm of Light when seeking out Slaanesh, but the realm's magic was too strong for them and the searing rays of the realm caused the eyes of the entire legion to burst and for the colour to drain from their skin. Deprived of one of their senses, they went mad and began to seek sensation in the extremes of every other sense - no matter the cost. 

Now they hunt for their sensation the Realm of Light, though no matter how much they experience, it is never enough.

The legion is lead by the Exalted Greater Daemon Lilith, who sought to overthrow Slaanesh by tricking the blind legion into thinking that she was their god, but was blinded by the Dark Prince as a cruel and ironic punushment. She is a shadow of her former self and, without her eyesight, she is bound to the band of stumbling miscreants that she leads.

The Faceless Prince is the Lieutenant of the Pallid Legion. Once he was a proud leader lead his daemonettes into battle, now he is a insane shadow of his former self. With his eyesight gone, it became a literal case of the blind leading the blind, and so he leads his legion to whatever direction he likes most at the time.


Below hopefully illustrates the theme I was going for :)





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Wanderers of Ulgu

After the exodus of gyhran the ancient king of the wanderers fled throughout the realms. Some fled to the realm of the heavens, seeking refuge against the chaos hordes, others fled into the realms, some to be lost to time.

One such war and fled to the shadow realms of Ulgu, spurred on by thier deep shame and the magics of the realm they have created a perminate frost storm that shelters them and when combined with the ancient magics of ghyran, can be used against thier foes.

Malarion soon found these interlopers to his realm and at first  while glad to have found some aelves, he saw that they were created in Alarialles image, and while he could twist them, they would never be his own. Malarion soon visited these aelves, not in his full draconic splendor, but with twisted shadow magic he took on the visage of Kuronoth, in this form Malarion gave the wanderers a purpose.

These wanderers of Ulgu now strike out throughout the realms, using a combination of shadow magic and life magic to conceal and heal themselves, as they undergo a great hunt, being blessed by "Kurnoth" they believe that with time and victories against chaos, they can return to Gyhran and be forgiven by Alarielle.

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My Wanderers are based on the Idea of being some Sort of Knighthood Order to which any Aelves from across the Realms can apply. [I am lacking a catchy Name] It was formed after the incident near the Spire of Dawn when a Chaos Sorcerer tried to tear down the Transient Isles. A group of Wanderers nearby assisted the Aelves of the Dawnspire thereby forging bonds which have grown into a reliable Alliance.
Being influenced by „High Aelf“ Culture and working closely with the Spireguard, Swifthawk Agents and the Eldritch Council the Order has developed to be both a Spearhead in Assault-Operations and a steahlthy reconnaissance Force. Apart from guarding the Dawnspire they are often on Missions in Hysh or Ghyran – either fighting Nurgles Maggotkin or searching lost Lore in long abandoned centers of forgotten Civilizations.

They hope to give all Elvenkind a Chance to find purpose – although there are arguments most have shunned Alarielle and tend to worship Teclis and Tyrion.  

[off topic: I am however struggling to find reliable Lore on the old Aelven Gods like Asuryan or Hoeth. Regarding the Phoenix Temple the only Information I am aware of is that GW refers to the “Ur-Phoenix” and “supernatural Phoenixes” – this sounds kind of strange as a whole. Do the so called “Azyrite Aelves” still venerate Asuryan as their Creator or is this reserved for the Phoenix Temple? Do they even know about any Deities from the World that Was? Would they care?
I also have not read any of the End Times Novels yet so my apologizes for not being  up to date :P]

For reference on the Spire of Dawn see here: http://whfb.lexicanum.com/wiki/Transient_Isles
I really hope that the Dawnspire will get involved in future events somehow.

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Don't have the name for my force. I've imagined a coastal city somewhere in Hysh. I think I've imagined more about the city's origin than the army I'm currently working on.  At the moment I'm trying to get all the models painted and based for skirmish format.

  • Archmage
  • Sword Master
  • Sword Master
  • Sword Master
  • Sword Master
  • Reaver
  • Spireguard
  • Spireguard
  • Spireguard
  • Spireguard

None native English speaker read at your own peril.



After two weeks of searching, they've found their trail. Fortunately, the tainted beasts didn't manage to spot their advances, yet their opponents seemed to be up and oddly anxious about something.

The ranger gave the signal. The warriors cautiously advanced through the cover. Mage Mishaela tightened her grip on the rod. She could feel the taint of chaos around her, overwhelming her senses, making her nervous and sick down in the stomach.

She suddenly felt a gentle weight on her shoulder and a calm voice bringing her back to the present moment. "All is well, focus on your breath," said a voice behind her. "I... thank you" she silently replied. The warrior moved his hand off her shoulder and advanced forward, joining the other soldiers. "It will be soon," she thought to herself. Her small band of aelves was dispatched with a mission of validating the reports of chaos presence.

And found them they did. Officially she was the leader of the band, unofficially she was way over her head and anxious. If she turned back and reported back to the Council it'd be enough, she'd done her assignment as it was told. Yet, the situations seemed as if this was only a small band of beasts that made their camp in the region, logically it'd be better to eliminate when their numbers are still low, potentially also learn of any other chaos tribes. Her warriors seemed in high spirit and with the encouragement of captain Lyrian, she had agreed on the raid.

The first arrows hit their mark. The beasts staggered and let out the warning cry, the second volley silencing their shrieking throats. In a matter of heartbeats, the Tzaangor's camp was up, the bipedal avians armed with shields and curved sabers appearing in front of it.

Lyrian and his Swordmasters charged towards them, the plan was to lure and cut the chaos band into smaller parts, adapt to the situation on the fly. So far it was going well.

The Tzaangor guards shouted something that made the air around them foul. Captain Lyrian stroke first, his opponent managed to parry his first blow with the shield but the weight of the impact left it staggered. The creature hid behind the shield, hoping to gain some time to regain its senses but the arm that handled the sword was left exposed. Lyrion took the opportunity and decapitate it, the creature yelled in pain and was soon silenced by his killing blow.

The next thing Lyrian became aware of was the discharge of energy. Two of his warriors who got overly eager and tried to push inside of the camp was hit with the thunderous blast and send flying several feet away. He turned his body and saw the creature that conjured the energy, its eyes glowing with malice and killing intent.

“Argh'shrak aelves, Tzeench kas!” spouted the creature. It waved its arms, Lyrian felt the build-up of energy and escalating increase in pressure as it did so. He gritted his teeth and sprinted towards it, "don't think, act", telling himself. The creature appeared eager to unleash its chaotic energies, yet, suddenly the build up in air pressure wavered, the build-up of energy drained. The creature tried to hold up its staff in an effort to parry the incoming charge. If it was a heartbeat sooner it might do it any good. Lyrian thrust his sword into its chest, the creature looked at him and exhaled its last breath.

The sound of battle swiftly faded afterward.




Edited by Tiger
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I've had versions of the same five characters leading my chaos army (one for each God plus undivided) since Realms of Chaos. Each of them ascended to daemonhood at the end of the World That Was and my AOS armies are made up of their mortal followers and Daemonic legions. I'm currently working on ideas for the miniature versions so that they can match the epic new greater daemon minis.

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My Rubicant Knights are stormcasts who have been isolated and forgotten in the Realm of Ys, one of the last human domains in the Chamon periphery. The salt storms and mercury rains have rusted their bronze armour and they have broken down their ranks into a feudal structure in order to better resist the storm that haunts them; the vampire lord Orlock, the Silver Forest of Lilethorn, and the Tzeentchian hordes of Salomonde.

Their Lord Celestant dead, the people of Ys acclaimed the Knights as their saviours and leaders, and they chose one among them to be King of Ys while they waited for the reinforcements that never came. The other lords were given fiefs to protect and the scarcity and danger have made their rule severe, strict, even cruel. The people now remember little of the rusty angels' deeds, two generations ago, and some don't understand why they should suffer the ruthless rule of inhuman beings. Chaos thrives in that soup of fear, despair and hope for a better tomorrow.

Of course, my Rubicant Knights can't be reforged (or, at least, when they are, they do not return to Ys, since it's cut out from Sigmar's Tempest by terrible storms), so the Knights have taken out to revere every death, to build colossal mausoleums, to practice caution, and to portray the lives of the deceased with extreme attention to detail.

They're essentially an Arthurian take on the Stormcasts. I lost a battle with my Tzeentch friend and I had them unpainted, so I figured "now they're trapped in Chamon, and Chamon is probably corrosive...). So far I'm happy with the lore, although their colour scheme is generic and I'm not happy with it (but I'm not very creative when it comes to color scheme decisions...)

Edited by Cèsar de Quart
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I've posted about my Nighthaunt army a little in the Death section of the forum. The link is below. I haven't fully formed the lore of the army but I am still allowing what I have to influence the eventual make up of it. I see the army as hunting, either for something or for someone. At first the idea was that they were hunting realmstone from the Realm of Death that exists outside of the realm and bringing that back to Nagashizzar. This realm stone most commonly exists in the form of Endless Spells and artefacts wielded by powerful heroes and so the army quests through the realmgates searching out particularly powerful spells to capture and harvest. This has led me to using the Death Stalkers battalion, an under-powered one but it fits the theme of targeting a specific character or unit in the opponents army as the possessor of realmstone and hence the target of the armies quest. I still am thinking about this but I have the models assembled and I am slowly getting through painting them.

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My Warherd Narrative (BoC soon) from Ulgu:

Kulgrok The Pale - Leader of the Night Hand Warherd.

In the Age of Chaos, the wrath of the 5 Gods was felt upon the mortal realms of Chaos – eyes were set upon new realms.

As war was waged upon the Realm of Ulgu – Many Warherds were unleashed upon the Aelves, one amongst these Warherds was a Herd known as the Fists of Molauc. The Doombull Molauc would heedlessly send his men forward into the shadow lands, dying in droves to the ambushes of the Daughters of Khaine who used Shadow Paths to ambush them.

Within this herd existed an exceptionally cunning and Intelligent Bloodkine called Kulgrok, marked by his deep black fur and keen red eyes. Kulgrok knew the herd had to adapt to this land of shadows, learn the ways of the dark or they would be obliterated. In time, he lead Molauc into an enemy ambush, and in the heat of battle he claimed the Doombull’s head – swelling in power to become the new Doombull of his herd.

With that he led his herd into the shadow and vanished into the hidden paths of Ulgu, never to be seen again for the rest of the Age of Chaos.

Aeons passed as the entire herd lay hidden in the dark and secret Paths of Ulgu. Kulgrok and his herd warped the darkness around them and took it into their own beings. Their skin becoming tinged with shadow – Kulgrok’s dark black fur is no longer the forces of Chaos have warped his skin to a pale, skin which has not seen light in centuries – bloating in size and cunning. The Gods have blessed him with strength and intellect, using fell powers to make his herd one with the realm.

They took a new Name and image; the Night Hand.

His herd have battled with and against the Eshin for this time, for control of these hidden paths – Kulgrok now knows them as well as any Ulgu resident after Centuries dedicated to taking control of these hidden paths. Warherds can be heard for miles around, their coming no surprise, Except for the Night Hands who burst forth from the Shadows at will and then hitting as hard as any Warherd. Kulgrok has the cunning of a Skaven and the strength of a Doombull, he using advanced tactics unbeknownst to a raging warherd. He has adapted the weapons and strategies of those he has conquered; most notably his prized ‘Boomers’ who wield the cannons of a defeated Ogor Clan.

Cunning Kulgrok has gathered power in the dark of Ulgu, destroying and conquering other herds and clashing against the Daughters of Khaine for control of land and resources. He now casts his burning red eyes towards the rest of Ulgu and beyond…

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Edited mine and now added the Shadow Hound riders to the ranks of the Daughters of Khaine (after finding an ideal 3rd party miniature to represent them - more on this in another thread to be made). 


@ClockworkGeo91 - Herds VS Daughters - I wonder which will prove the greater masters of the shadowpaths! Though it reminds me that whilst the Shadowlands are famous for being the home of the Daughters, Morathi's realm there is quite small (and began in the darkest most inhospitable land there). The - as yet not released - other dark elf force (closer to demonic) ruled by her son hold sway over the greater part of the shadow realm. Though we likely won't hear or see much of them until such time as they get a release. 

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30 minutes ago, Kirjava13 said:

That's a really nice presentation of an army, and I love the theme! If you're interested, you've got one little typo in Lord Maulheart's blurb- it says, "in the ruins if Elixia" when you meant to write, "in the ruins of Elixia".


I appreciate the proof read and will correct it on the next revision.

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I am developing my guys via the storys generated during each battle.  I've been writing up narrative battle reports after each battle, and the story has progressed and the charactors more fleshed out each time. 

The short version is:

Tempest Eye Allegence, generic Order.   Mixed Aelf force of Swifthawks & Eldritch Council.

Lord Adamar (Swifthawk Highwarden) and his brother (Aldorellan, Archmage) have been tasked to establish a new border settlement/ outpost/ town to extend the region of civilisation around the city of Tempest Eye in Ashqy.

The initial fights have been a 3 battle campaign against Nurgle to cleanse the region of chaos taint,  a skirmish with a Moonclan squig raiding party on a peasant outer village, and fighting off a Beastman ambush (on the return home from the Squig skirmish).   

Then a fight against Stormcast for the control of a Lines of Power mystical site, which Aldorellan needed to harness to cast the new powerful Endless Spells for the first time.     Then following the completion of the Tower of Sorcery in the new town, Eldritch Council reinforcements arrived, including a dragon pet of a new archmage, the head of the local Eldritch order (Filvendor).      To pay for the food bill of the dragon, Adamar had to raise taxes on the peasants, who complained to the Stormcast garrison to intervene, motivating another battle with Stormcast. 

Story is developing with each battle and each new addition to the army!  Going for a RPG style narrative, character, army development and adding units that fit the narrative rather than power-play efficiency.   

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5 hours ago, knight_797 said:

To pay for the food bill of the dragon, Adamar had to raise taxes on the peasants, who complained to the Stormcast garrison to intervene, motivating another battle with Stormcast. 

For some reason this is absolutely hilarious to me ?

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I've developed plenty of lore for my Ironjawz army, Da Bloodbreaka Clan, as well as my Dispossessed force, the Throng of the Ankor Volghar. I  keep a growing history book of my armies that I usually give out to my opponents at tournaments. For my Ironjawz, I update a post on the Destruction boards with their deeds and how battles on the tabletop influence their story, which features lore on every model, as well as a growing space timeline. 

I've attached the booklets below, as well as an intro and a link to my army's blog for those interested 


Long ago, the Skullthumpas were a prominent orruk clan that terrorized the mortal realms. Led by their brutal but cunning Warboss, Gorfang, the tribe claimed victories against all they came across. While Archaon’s forces spread their presence across the realms, the Skullthumpas continued to persevere against the legions of the Dark Gods. With so many enemies to fight, it was an orruk paradise. Alas, the Skullthumpas would eventually meet a grisly end at from combined host of Khorne and the Legion of Azgorh. Gorfang survived, but his army was destroyed. The lucky ones fled into the wilds, while the rest were either sacrificed to the Blood God, or taken as prisoners by the Chaos Dwarfs, including Gorfang.

For years, the former warboss and his orruks labored away in the slave pits beneath Zharr Haraz in Aqshy. Beaten, whipped, and killed, the orruks took up arms, but their rebellion failed. As punishment, the Dawi Zharr began using the slaves as cannon fodder for their armies as they marched across the mortal realms. The orrruks were supposed to die in these battles, but somehow, Gorfang helped them persevere. Despite several seemingly fatal blows, Gorfang always found a way to survive, earning him the distinction as “Da Immortal.” Between those battles and dark hours slaving away in the pits, the greenskins devised new plans to escape. Fate would intervene as a mighty throng of duardin from the Ankor Volghar besieged the fort city. While the Chaos Dwarfs attempted to defend their hold on the surface, duardin Rangers and miners infiltrated the slave pits to free their kin. With reinforcements preventing them from escaping, the Ranger Captain was left with no choice, and freed Gorfang and his orruks. Using crude tools and smuggled weapons, the greenskins gleefully sought revenge and slaughtered their former masters, breaking their chains and earning their freedom.

Since that day, Da Bloodbreaka Clan has grown into a mighty force. After a quick adventure through Ulgu, they made their way back to Ghur and established a living in the Frattura Mountains in Zarcocia. Guided by the prophecies of Gorkamorka, they constructed a mighty city, Mount Kraktoof, in the ruins of an old duardin hold. It is here where orruks, grots, ogors and others rally to the banner of the broken chain. From this location, there is plenty of fighting to be had. The humans in the north and west, the remaining chaos forces scattered in the north and east, the enigmatic Stormcasts, Aelfs and Seraphon who happen to show up unannounced, and the duardin of the Ankor Volghar to the south. With enemies all around, the Ironjawz never have to travel far to find a good fight.

Victories and successes have come aplenty for Da Bloodbreaka Clan, but Gorfang’s mission continues. Throughout the mortal realms, clans of orruks, grots and ogors continue to be pushed around, enslaved, beaten or aimless. He has sworn to rescue those from the same chains he once adorned, vowing to destroy Chaos, Death or anyone that dares mess with the Greenskins. Gork and Mork are coming, and Gorfang has sworn to serve Da Godz, for the fight of fights is coming, and every lad will be needed when the WAAAGH! finally erupts!  



The Throng of the Ankor Volghar Army Packet.docx

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The free city of Heldensvult has been sending out wizards on expeditions to tame or banish endless spells as well as to divine threats to the city and the Gate of Azyr that it guards.  While most of the assaults on their walls are made up of bands of unorganized Orruks, there seems to be a growing number of sitings of bestial humanoids, twisted by the Ruinious Powers.

The Ravenous Horde of Maltangr worships the Ruinous Powers as the Goat Mother.  The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young.  The Shub-Niggurath in their own gutteral tongue.  While they mostly raid for food they also have foul rites in which prisoners are fed to her Dark Young and then regurgitated as bestial things.  When they dominate another chaos warband, any mortal servant of the Ruinous Powers is transformed into a bestial thing and inducted into the herd.  The Great Shaman Maltangr himself started his life as a mortal prisoner and has risen to the leadership of the herd.

Midas Maltangr, Grey Brey-Shaman of the Ravenous Horde of the Goat Mother

Some of the Questing Wizards of Heldensvult claim that given their preference for transmuting their victims into bestial creatures, Tzeentch is clearly the power behind these bestial foes.  Others point to the blood rituals offered when skulls are stacked at the base of the herdstones as a sign of Khorne's favour.  While they have no sign of the gifts of Nurgle, the herd has fouled wells and left diseased carcasses to be stumbled upon by the unwary.

However the times the transformation of captives has been observed, the mutated victim seems to have emerge in an ecstatic state and immediately joins in the foul rutting that makes up the majority of the ceremony.   Some of the Heldensvult scouts who observed the foul rituals even broke from cover and ran to join the throngs of mortals now willingly clamouring for the maw of the Dark Young. The Questing Wizards speculate that the Dark Prince's hand is on this herd and that their rapid growth is a sign of Slaanesh's imminent resurfacing. 

Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath -- Illustration by Barguest (deviantart.com)

Even more worrisome is that Maltangr bears the black and gold of one who has bent the knee to Archaon, the Grand Marshal of the Apocalypse.  It is unknown exactly what orders and resources have been given to Maltangr by the greatest champion of the Ruinous Powers.  Though the Questing Wizards of Heldensvult are unanimous on one point.  Maltangr represents the single greatest threat to the gate they are guarding.  A request to the Hammers of Sigmar has been answered and the Stormhost's small garrison at Heldensvult is being reinforced and expanded into a full fortress.

Edited by Nin Win
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  • 2 weeks later...


Since the original post here, my Tempest Eye aelf force narrative has progressed further....  (see above)

  • The peasants discontent with the high taxes (for the dragon food bill) have increased further, with new calls for "democracy" and "no tax without representation".  
  • Now, all educated men of the Mortal Realms - including the local Stormcast garrison Lord-Celestant - know that democracy is an un-Orderly idea, and must be indication of chaos taint, chaos agents stirring up trouble.
  • The Lord-Celestant and his Stormcast garrison beat up Lord Adamar (aelf Highwarden) and his aelves, then ordered Adamar to cleanse the chaos taint and bring Order back to the township.
  • Adamar, getting desperate, accepted an invitation to tournament games in a Silver Tower's fighting pits, hosted by a cunning deamon prince (our local FLGS owner....) on the promise of significant material rewards!   (Our local store ran a 3-game tournament)
  • Lord Adamar and Archmage Filvendor (on dragon) survived the games (just), flying back through the exit portal into the Adamar's manors' backyard.  Collapsing from exhaustion and wounds (both heros finished the final game of the tournament on 1 wound each!), the dragon fell into Lady Adamars rare flower and butterfly enclosure, smashing it into pieces. .... Filvendor was going to cop some grief for that....
  • But, luckily, the aelf heroes had returned from the Silver Tower games with sufficient ur-gold and realmstone wealth to allow the taxes to now be reduced, which should keep the Lord-Celestant off Adamar's back for a while!



Edited by knight_797
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  • 3 months later...

My army centers around a duardin king and his clan, the Karakigrom,  as they attempt to resettle themselves in Chamon. The main storyline can be found here, as I introduce each unit in their throng. I'm fascinated with all the variability in AOS though, so I'm  also exploring  what less "traditional" duardin might look like coming from different realms. The first of these tangential storylines is centered on the Malign Portents (here).  My goal is to tie the different storylines together as a way to unify various duardin factions and explore what a unified duardin society might look like in the mortal realms.

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