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Coalescence 2017 - Introduce your General!

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Hi guys, about a month to go until Coalescence! Hopefully you have all begun to paint your forces for this! Use the below to drop a picture and a small backstory for  them. This is open to anyone attending any Coalescence event around the world so there should be loads of you posting here ;) 

Ill Begin, here I present Artur Sigi - Leader of the War Council! I shall be attending and running the CliffHammer Coalescence event in Margate, Kent, UK 


“To become a Battlemage of ‘The Order of Sigmar’ takes a lifetime of study and war training. You need to have either been born into the line of the Collegiate Arcane or have natural gifts bestowed upon you at birth from Sigmar himself. Once in a 100 years or so, one such gifted individual will also have the opportunities to study in the College of Azyrheim, a library of every event, spell, and incantation – some even dating back to the World-That-Was. If they are successful, these individuals will join Sigmar’s personal council.

Leading the War Council is Artur Sigi, a powerful Amber Mage who rides atop a rare two-headed Griffon. He has studied for 60 years to perfect the art of the Beast winds, and only now is he to be released by Sigmar back into the Mortal Realms. A Witch Hunter in the Realm of Ghur found Artur as a feral boy; no one knew how he survived the jungles surrounding Cartha, but he was brought back and put before Sigmar. The God-King knew that Artur was something special and placed him into the Order of Azyr."


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Here is my General one on foot and on his mighty Krusha! Gromolog Da Big Destroya! "Gromolog to some may seem like a simple brute with just violence in his mind, but he is more cunning then other's wherever there is a magical shiny trinket to be found whether it be a dwarfs mountain fortress or a free peoples castle or a chaos dread hold you will find him setting up a siege and destroying the entire stronghold all just for shiny magical trinkets!"


image1 (1).JPG

Gromolog on Maw Krusha.JPG

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From his time as a warboss, to the grueling years of slavery under the Dawi Zharr, Gorfang has emerged from the ashes of those pits a free Orruk, bigger, stronger, and more cunnin' from his trials. He has survived many close calls and grievous wounds in his life: avoiding slaughter at the hands of Khone's worshipers, withstanding the vicious environment of the slave quarries of the Chaos Dwarfs, withstanding a plagued wound delivered by a Nurgle Blightking, shrugging off a solar beam from the Seraphon's great beasts, even outlasting a deadly dual with a unit of Skull Reapers. This has led his followers to refer to him as Da Immortal. Yet, Gorfang is not satisfied. During his years as a slave, the megaboss claims Gork (or possibly Mork) spoke to him, telling him to start gathering the downtrodden clans and uniting them into a WAAAGH! to drive out the forces of chaos from the mortal realms. To show the other Orruks who Da Best Boss is, Gorfang adornes his armour with the heads of his fallen foes. Each one tells the story of Gorfang's trials as an Ironjaw. The Chaos Duardin taskmaster, Rhagrakki Burnfist, his head sits next to the ogor Turokk The Hairy, whose raiding party was stomped into the ground after they betrayed the Bloodbreaka's while escaping the Realm of Ulgu. The scalp of the Aspiring Deathbringer Kalrak Bloodmarked hangs from the belt of Gorfang after his Bloodbound were broken in a vicious battle with the Bloodbreakas. Gorfang defeated the Khorne general in single combat,  avenging the massacre from ages ago that put Gorfang in chains. And the monster's skull that sits on megaboss' right shoulder? No one knows what it was, only that Gorfang went on a raid into the Realm of Ghur and returned a week later with the skull intact, along with more Orcs for the WAAAGH! While the Bloodbreaka's battle across the continent of Zarcosia in the Realm of Ghur, they have secured a realmgate at their base at Bloodbreaka Hold in the Frattura Mountains. Wherever they go, Gorfang is at the head of his army, offering the promise of the fight-of-fights to the destitute Orruk tribes across the mortal realms. 


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Oldblood Itzahuan, The Tip of the Spear

(Spear of Dusk Constellation)

Oldblood Itzahuan was the first star to appear in his Constellation, willed into being by the slaan known as Metzlhuan shortly after the ancient mage became a star master. However, the ascension of the ancient mage was haphazard, permanently warping his powers. As a result, the normal incantations used to craft Metzlhuan's cohort are flawed; while the remembered warriors are as solid and dangerous as other Seraphon, the magic that created them is laid bare, revealing them for the flickering star stuff they are.

More dangerously, the slaan's magic and mental facilities seem to slowly be bleeding into his warriors. As a result, Itzahuan is highly intelligent, and alarmingly self aware for a remembered warrior. In a scant few centuries, the Oldblood learned to speak with the eloquence of a skink scholar, and had developed an endlessly curious personality. Nonetheless, Itzahuan remains an Oldblood, and his martial skill is incredible. Wielding a blade that glows like the sun, armored in glowing celestial jade and crowned with a diadem of  the three brightest stars in his Constellation, the Oldblood had turned his glowing eyes to the embattled realm of Ghyran and the curious light coming from Loch Eon...








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Pest’dulan lifted his head out of the muck where he had lain for what felt like eternity, left for dead by the sky warriors and Allariel’s army.  They had apparently moved on, searching for some more immediate threat.  He looked around at the bodies of his army, rotting in the fetid swamp that was their battlefield, giving their final essence to feed what remained of Nurgle’s blighted land.

“Why has Grandfather spared me,” he thought, while leaving his brothers, kings of the blight, to feed Nurgle's garden.  He had a dim vision still floating in his head, a vision of a a set of crystals imprisoning a beast of great power and corruption, a vision of a means to bring about that corruption.  From that vision he slowly moved off into the jungle, mindlessly following his instincts, until he came to an area overgrown with vines and decay.  There he found the ruins of an ancient temple with a broken ring-shaped gateway, an antediluvian realm-gate, long since abandoned.  He dragged the bodies of each of his fallen allies to that alter for some purpose he couldn’t explain.

After he finished his great labor, the sorcerer Loimos came out of the jungle, as usual missing the exertion with impeccable timing.  Without a word, as if he knew exactly what was happening, he started an incantation.  The pests of the swamp soon swarmed the pile of bodies heaped on the alter.  Decay took them at a pace no natural phenomenon could explain, this was the Grandfathers work.  As the bodies rotted, the maggots swarmed out and burst from over expansion, the gate started to glow.

Out of the gate, first swarmed hoards of plaguebearers, the grandfather’s footmen, come to corrupt the land.  Soon after a swarm of drones led by Baelgros, the deamon lord of flies.  The sickening buzz of the wings brought hope and excitement to Pest’dulan.  After some time, squeezing through the gate, nearly breaking it in the process, came Diachyron, the great defiler,  Great Unclean One of Nurgle.  Now Pest’dulan understood.  This was his army, provided by grandfather Nurgle, to capture the Keystone Shards, take control of the Godbeast Eristrat, corrupt it with the power of Nurgle, and use it to bring Nurgle's gift to all of Ghyran.





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  • 2 weeks later...

I'll add to the Orrukieness. I haven't named him or come up with a back story yet but here is my General 


Grugdar's Autobiography.

Grugdar strongest of Zondak's children. Killed many skeletons in Waaaagh! to take old chapel for Zondak. Grugdar got bigger. Killed many hoomans in Waaaagh! To destroy castle. Grugdar got even bigger. Tiny grots started following me around. Me make them fight for Grugdar. Next Grugdar take cave in great mountain as his home. Had to kill Jabberslythe who lived there. I got bigger and now puny orruks follow me. Goat people mad I killed Jabberslythe and try to kill Grugdar but me kill them. I got bigger and more Orruk come to fight for me. Stormcast come to fight chaos at mountains foot. Grugdar's army help kill chaos. Stormcast leader have dragon. Grugdar want dragon so me kill stormcast but dragon not cooperate so Grugdar kill him too. Grugdar wear his skull and stormcast metal as armor. Grugdar get bigger. Grugdar want mount. Stormcast dragon puny. Grugdar want Maw-Krusha!


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With a thunderous roar the Khonite horde crashed into the Lions of Sigmar.  Lord Celestant Ricter Scalebane surveyed the melee with an amused express. "Once again their bloodlust has gotten the better of them and they taken the bait."  he thought. Lord Scalebane turned toward he long time companion Lord Castellant Godfrey "Have the Longstrikes start targeting their priests. Without them they will start to lose their nerve.  Then hold the center with the Liberators" he commanded. He then drew his weapons and walked up towards "The Tempest Hammers"  the Retributors were waiting the order to attack in near by ruins. As he joined them "May Sigmar guide your actions as we show these Chaos Mongrels what a true warrior looks like."  The paladins chuckled but felt the gaze of the God King apon them. 

With a yell the Ricter and the Paladins charged into the flank of the Khornite horde. His armor gleaming with siliver sigmarite Lord Scalebane waded through the Blood Warriors parrying strikes with his sword while crushing armor and limbs with his hammer.  Over the sounds of battle a deafening howl raged, Ricter looked up to see the lord approaching through the press of combatants with a flesh hound at his heels. Time seems to stand still as both of them sized each other up. With howl the flesh hound raced forward closing the gap quickly with powerful leaps. As it leaps to attack lightning flashes over head and it is blinded by the glare off Scalebane's armor. Ricter sidesteps the attack and plunges his sword into the demon's flesh. Standing from the disappearing body of the flesh hound Ricter stalks towards the lord, his weapons raises. He can see the rage in the lord's eyes but also see cunning tempering the bloodlust.  The lord jumps forward hurling the great axe with all his strength hoping the end the Lord Celestant's life quickly. Ricter barely jumps back. "That was faster then I thought" he realized. Ricter regained his footing and leaped back at the Lord. Both launched into a blur of attacks and parries. Then the axe caught Ricter in the side. Pain coursed through his body as he felt his soul being pulled from his body. His vision blurs...blackness creeps in. Suddenly a gauntleted hand reaches out and grabs ahold of Ricter's soul and drags it back into his body. His body feels heavy as Ricter wills his limbs to move. He stands to the shock of the Khorne Lord. "My faith shields and protects me while yours make you a slave!" Ricter proclaims as his stabs sword into the lord's gut. Falling to his knees the Lord looks up and in a guttural voice " You may have won today but Khorne know of the Godbeast and my brothers shall deliver it to his throne!" Ricter glares down at his foe "Not while I am around." and he brings down his hammer on to the lord's head crushing his skull. With the lord's demise the Khornite horde loses the will to fight and retreats as Judicators shoot at them.


Lord Scalebane raises his sword in victory and calls the remainder of his forces. "We must hurry to the citadel and stop the GodBeast from awaking!"  



(Forgive my writing but this is the first time I tried something like this)


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1 hour ago, FallenRob said:

His body feels heavy as Ricter wills his limbs to move. He stands to the shock of the Khorne Lord. "My faith shields and protects me while yours make you a slave!"

This part was far and away my favorite! Well written, sir.

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As he removed his blade from the now-lifeless form of the demon, Tomun heard the crash of the Gate to Azyr closing. In the few breaths before acquiring his next target, he quickly assessed the situation. Twenty, twenty-five at most, remained standing against the hordes of Chaos. Corpses, both man and beast, piled up in a vast mound surrounding the Gate. Hundreds had escaped to the sanctuary of Azyr. Tomun and his fellow warriors, the strongest and bravest of the tribesmen, knew their fate would not allow them such rest. To allow their tribes to avoid the terror of Chaos, they fought with fire in their hearts. Each slew dozens, even hundreds, of Chaos-worshipping men and demons. While Tomun's heart broke to see women and children among the slain, he knew that thousands had fled the battlefield to safety. He and his men were victorious... though Chaos would overrun them soon.

Sigmar created a new Stormhost, the Fires of Heaven, for these guardians. The Fires of Heaven, brave souls all, protect those in need with no thought for themselves. Tomun was reforged as Lord-Celestant Tiomar. His brother-in-arms and constant companion in life was reforged as Lord-Castellant Fentin. Lord-Celestant Cyril rides his trusty Dracoth Thundertrot beside them. Lord-Relictor Vertus silently joins them in battle; his words are heard only by Sigmar himself.


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Great stuff guys, even if the scales seem tipped in favor of Gorkamorka at the moment ;)

Introducing Runefather Korrigyn-Grimnir of Aqshy's Dreyrugr lodge, and my Coalescence character, Runeson Eurgar Lofnirsson.




"The Dreyrugr Lodge of Aqshy is infamous for its violent devotion to Grimnir. Already the black sheep of the Lodges, the Dreyrugr's detractors claim they have more in common with the servants of Khorne than the trueborn sons of Grimnir. Unlike most Runefathers, Korrigyn-Grimnir has no natural born sons of his own; instead, the youngest or unfavored Runesons of numerous other lodges have sworn oaths of fealty to the Dreyrugr, in exchange for a chance to be named Korrigyn-Grimnir's successor. For his part, the Runefather judges a Runeson's merit by two criteria: a Runeson's affinity for quaffing ale and gruesomely dismembering his enemies.

Fourteenth Runeson of Ghur's Lofnir Lodge, Eurgar has risen to prominence in Korrigyn-Grimnir's eyes, not least because of his affinity for raising and breaking fearsome, ill-tempered Magmadroths. Now, Eurgar has returned to Ghur with the intent of cementing his claim by attuning the Keystone Shard of the Starclaw Crags.

Fearful rumors that Skarbrand himself has been drawn to the war raging on the Crags' slopes has only served to whip Eurgar into a frenzy, for if he can cast the Exiled One back to the steps Brass Citadel, then truly he shall be worthy of the name Grimnir. While some would say he's overly optimistic, those who follow him know he's simply insane."



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With armies all over the mortal realms mustering thier forces in the coming hunt for the precious key stones, The kahadron overlords of Elgi-bar sees a opportunity for profit. From thier sky ports built on the back of a giant aether-gold filled jelly fish, the arkanaut company of Rereksfjiord sets sails in the pursue of the key stones, which they will sell to the highest bidder on their return. 

Leader of this company is the prude Admiral Yllrud Skyrock. Known for her battle prowess, which is only matched by her distain of seeing bare skin (in Elgi-bar it is an offence not covering oneself when doing buisniess, and for them everything is buisniess).


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I'll have a go!  My General is Runefather Frank Grimnir.  He is shown here with his two Runesons, Charlie and Dennis on the pyramid, his daughter Dee (she's the birdlike snotling hiding behind the magmadroth, Poppins) and their friend Mac the Runesmiter.

My force is commanded by Runefather Frank-Grimnir. With his Runesons Dennis and Charlie (and daughter Dee) he rules over the most welcoming and open Fyreslayer Lodge in all of Azyr. They have excellent relations with the local Free Peoples and Aelves and, combined with the bright glow of their Lodge's forgefires, folk say, "Its always sunny in Fyla'del-phya!" 

They're also famous for always receiving payment for their services. In fact should any disputes arise, Frank invites both parties to the Paddy's Rune Temple thousands of feet down in the bowels of the fiery mountain. There they have a civil discussion, no threats, no violence, all perfectly fine and legitimate...but they always receive their payment...because of the Implication. You know...the Implication...




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Also here is a picture of my friend's general for his Bonesplittaz that will be battling on Saturday!  As of this moment he has no name so I shall dub him, "Toby LeRone".  He likes FOIGHTIN'!!  That's really the only reason he needs for stompin's 'umies and krumpin' stunties!!  Surprisingly he gets along well with Aelves.  Its a mutual friendship built on years of respect and trust, support and love (and krumpin', lots of krumpin').  :x


PS: I'm not really sure what "krumpin'" actually is...


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  My general's name is Scaebilex "The Most Corrupted Bringer of the Withered Word"  from the contagion church of Poxsmar in Clan Sputix. Years ago a priest at a nearby church of contagion within Clan Sputix had a vision that the Great Corruptor's claws were a shade different from what was believed to be true, and so that priest splintered away from the churches in the clan, deeming all others in Clan Sputix as heretics.  Under dictation from the Withered Word a splintering must happen in 3's, and that two other churches in the clan must be ejected.  Rivals to Church Poxsmar quickly gathered and violently forced Scaebilex and the church's followers out from its home at a fallen cathedral near the swamp.  Scaebilex made it out alive with some of his followers and fled away vowing revenge on those that forced his church out.  For years Scaebilex worked on perfecting foul diseases to unleash on his enemies, and also searched to uncover the locations of the undiscovered Libre Pestilens (Great Diseases).  Recently Scaebilex has heard mutterings from his minions of a great crystal at a dark citadel far off.  Scaebilex believes that such a creation has to be the unholy vessel that will hold the 13 Great Diseases and bring about the Great Corruption.  This is Scaebilex's chance at not only revenge against those that forced him out, but it is his chance to be the fabled priest that brings about the great ruin.  Scaebilex has gathered his followers, taken his foul concoctions and is heading for the crystal.  


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Shesmuz Burningheart


His clan had been blacksmiths for generations upon generations. Well renowned in the Realm of Fire as making some of the deadlist blades around. Champions of Khorne would often duel for the latest crafted masterwork. Shesmuz is the last however, due to the meddlesome rouge diety of Sigmar. One day his golden warriors came down with storm and fury utterly destroying the settlement blasting it to ashes. Surviving burried alive within his forge Shesmuz awoke to the ruin and roared to the heavens in rage. Fixing his forge to working order he forged a set of armor one to uptake vengance on the sons of the storm. Mixed with the ashes of his home, and prayers to the Blood God, Shesmuz took up the newly forged armor, and his mighty anvil becoming a Skullgrinder for Khorne. Seeing his cause worth of some attention Khorne blessed Shesmuz's anvil and sent him a series of visions. First it lead him to other survivors, whom adorned themselves in similar armor, then to other warriors eager for battle and conquest. This would include a pair of Slaughterpriests to further interpret mighty Khorne's visions and a Bloodsecrator to bear his flag. Khorne's latest vision showed Shesmuz where he might achieve something to greatly speed up his quest for more power and provide a messure of revenge. Shesmuz lead his pilgramage towards the sacred crystal to unleash the power within and gift it to the Blood God. Should Sigmar's foolish golden warriors choose to stand in his way? This would just be further blessings from the Blood God upon him.


"Feel the fires of my hate! Break upon my anvil in woe!" - Shesmuz Burningheart


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Slowly, for the Slann had slumbered for millennia. Dreaming of long-lost Lustria, his memories were all that remained of his beloved homeland. His race.

His revenge.

He was one of the Slann who argued against engaging the rising tide of Chaos. Patiently urged his brothers that the affairs of mortals or the foul spawn of Chaos were inconsequential compared to The Great Mission. For as the puny, short-lived mortals squabbled and died, built and destroyed, all the while pretending to be more than the insects they truly were. The strongest among them were but journeymen employers of the arcane arts when compared to the mighty Slann. And so why bother, Toc'qual argued, when the nature and mystery of the Old Ones was of such greater importance. Let them play with what meager power they could muster...it was of no consequence.

Toc'qual eyes remained closed. But he stirred, and let out a slow, deliberate sigh.

How wrong he had been. And now he and a few of his brothers were all that remained. Charting their path across the dark expanse, striking back at Chaos where they could. Diminished, but still the Warp's most dangerous foes.

He sensed what had broken his reverie. Shards of great power. Anchoring, constraining, containing a God-beast. 

He felt the movement of other powers. Some sinister, some destructive, some...potential Allies, even as his own magical power dwarfed theirs.

And Chaos.

The Ever-Enemy. That which must be destroyed. Cleansed.

Eyes opening to light-emitting slits, Toc'qual ruminated on the nature of the threat, the position of the heavens, and the memories of his race.

Azyr answered. Toc'qual knew what must be done. 

Suddenly, power surged from the ancient Slann. His eyes now fully open, they turned into impossibly bright orbs, and bolts of mystical energy shot forth. Enough to level cities, but instead of destruction they yielded the slowly-coalescing forms of long-dead warriors. 

The time for vengeance had come. Now the enemies would feel the righteous power of the Seraphon, and despair. 


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It was early in the dawn when Kradin the Bludgeoner woke up as he had every morning for the past month.  As he stood, the weight of his immense stature crushed the bones of some unlucky merchants who made the unfortunate mistake of passing too closely to the Bloodbound camp a few weeks prior.  Kradin's Bloodbound had been camping on the side of one of the peaks of the Glimmerglass Mountains awaiting the signal.

None of them knew why or what they were waiting for, just that they'd been tasked with an important task that would prove their worth and loyalty to Khorne.  As he walked out of the cave he had begun to call home, he noticed there was a sense of excitement in the air.  Bloodreavers and Blood Warriors who had been sharpening their weapons for weeks on end were forming a circle.  Two Bloodreavers were battling one another to prove their martial prowess and superiority over the other.  The clang of metal was loud, overshadowed only by the grunting of the two men swinging their heavy weapons with the intent to kill, maim or disfigure the other.  Kradin watched with baited breathe as he could almost taste the inevitable blood in the air.  He could feel himself getting excited.  He could see the same in all his men.

Without warning the sky turned blood red over the adjacent mountain peak.  The men stopped fighting to take account of what was occurring.  Is this the sign that they'd been waiting for?  It began to rain, the rain turned to blood, and the sky turned to ash.  The smell was intoxicating.  It was without doubt the sign they'd been waiting for.  The men whipped by the Bloodstokers quickly raced to prepare for battle, collected their weapons and donned their war gear.

Kradin pushed his way through the crowd of scampering warriors and with one swing of his mighty weapon, lopped the heads off of both men who had previously been warring.  They looked dumb-founded as their heads rolled off and down the trail a few yards away.  "Khorne cares not from where the blood flows", Kradin thought. 

Kradin charged over the ridge, his Bloodbound horde right behind him.  They didn't know where they were going, or who they were going to be fighting, but they were eager to fight and die for the glory of Khorne.


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Lady Tatzyl and the Shrieking Requiem have crossed the realms in search of The Distant Prince.  Trading in torment and violence for secrets and rumors, she has learned of a vast sleeping entity, trapped within the diaphanous fastness.  Believing the rumored identity of a slumbering godbeast to be a piece of misdirection, or myth gone awry, the Marquise seeks to learn the truth behind the Keystone shards.  She lends her vicious speed to the hunt.


Lady Tatzyl, Marquise of the Shrieking Requiem.- General (Lord of Slaanesh on Daemonic Mount):    She has taken up with the Seekers in searching for the Lost Prince.  Uncharacteristically driven and single minded for one of her allegiance, she drives the Requiem hard across the realms in search of clues.  The Marquise believes the other Chaos Gods have conspired to imprison their brother.  To that point, she has taken to extracting information from the champions of the Dark Gods through bargaining, manipulation, or outright violence.  The power of the relic holds little allure for her, but it is the object of desire for many of the fell beings she looks to treat with- a bargaining chip she cannot pass up.

"It was in lands of the Chi-An where she finally ran him to ground.  There she kissed him deeply as he lay dying, and so stole from him his last, agonized breath.  

 On a delicate chain at her throat, she keeps it with her to this day."


Lythus of the Nightmare City, Oracle of the Perfumed Wind (Sorcerer Lord on Chaos Steed): Lythus was caught in a web of his own lies when trying to manipulate Lady Tatzyl.  Now he serves as reluctant sooth-sayer to the Marquise.  He would run, but who could go fast enough, run far enough to escape the Shrieking Requiem?  Instead he seeks a way to earn the trust of his new mistress, that he might betray her later.

"And why would I try to match blades with your champion, little lordling?  The Dark Prince isn't watching is he?  But I am.  I always am.  And do you know what I've seen?  I've seen what your first-sword wants.  And what she wants more than to please you... is to *be* you.  Give my regards to the underworld."


Theobald, Paragon of the Narcissites (Chaos Lord of Slaanesh):  There are times when all the speed in the realms cannot carry the day- a fortress to be laid low, a meatgrinder engagement, or tiresome ritual.  At these moments, Lady Tatzyl will choose to draw a weapon of a different kind.  Theobald is one for whom obsession is second nature.  His devotion to the Marquise is total and without question, and may well be the one thing that keeps his self-destructive urges in check.

"When he heard the Gaoler of Debrezza had sworn to nail his hide to the Prison City's doors, Theobald decided to beat the old fool to it.  Flayed himself bloody, fought his way up the causeway and hung his own skin from the parapet.  Fair's fair of course.  He peeled the Gaoler that night, hung him right along side, and 10,000 convicts flooded out across the plains by the next dawn."

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