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208 Celestant-Prime

About Nevar

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    Dracothian Guard

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  1. Meanwhile across the realm of Shyish, far from Nacht'Tor and in the ruins left behind in the war for Bykaal, the hollow knights of the Einhundert stand vigil. The swift and impetuous Dark Marquees had led his Shade-Host across the minor underworld of Bykaal at the command of Reikenor. In the Shade-Host's wake drifted in more disciplined and patient wardens. As they stand silent vigil on the abandoned walls of Nacht'Tor, so to does their duty extend to other locations in Shyish when the will of NAGASH demands it. There were so few of the Einhundert in Bykaal when the night known as the Mallusnacht fell, that only one was present in the town of Bolyany when the vary crops the mortals toiled over rose up in violent revolt. This one is known by some in Fendale only as The Shrouded. Wrapped in equal measures of black plate and tattered shroud, the hollow swordsman observed the rising chaos with much interest. Mutated turnips and bloody masses of those that the animated crops killed were rising in horrific masses to slaughter mortal and ossiarch legionnaire alike. It became quickly apparent to The Shrouded that this was the justice of Nagash being wrought in the underworld of Bykaal after the Hammerhall interlopers had moved in to rename the towns and overturn eon long traditions. What was worse, there even stood a temple to the Betrayer-god Sigmar in the middle of the ancient Shyishan town of Bolyany. At first The Shrouded watched in silent and unseen incorporeal amusement as the mortals ran about attempting to muster a defense against their own tainted and animated crops. Yet, one mortal stepped out from the rest to level just blame at the feet of the azyrite cult and the betrayer-god's temple. Her name was Gertrude Brown, a simple woman of the town, a salt of the earth local whose generations could be traced back into the history of Shyish itself. As she rallied panicking survivors in the town square to attempt to hold out until the witching night was over, she also hatched schemes to use the night of horrors to drive Hammerhall and the azyrite cult out of Bolyany and by extension Bykaal. Still however, the hollow swordsman waited unseen. There was another who held to the old ways in the town, this one called 'The Eel Witch' who kept the customs and also seemed to have distaste for the Betrayers in her midst. Neither mortal's fates really mattered to the silent warden, and so he was content to observe and wait for the judgement of Nagash to finish the town in a mutated and monstrous oragy of turnip slaughter. It was when words of burning down the betrayer's temple and slaying its Lector started circulating in the circles of Gertrude Brown's followers that The Shrouded took notice. Perhaps all the mortals this night would perish, but driving out the betrayer's priests, or better yet sending the Lector to meet Nagash early, was motivation enough for the hollow swordsman to reveal himself and offer his spectral wavey flamberge to the cause. The plan was simple, the townsfolk were in an uproar and one had even crafted a shambling catapult of some kind. Other gathered torches and shouted about storming the temple. These would be the distraction that would pull the Stormcast defenders of the temple away from the Lector and his inner chamber, or so the knight in shrouds presumed. It seemed like a simple task to infiltrate the temple during the mortal's attempt to storm it by force. He would slip in unseen, only to materialize long enough to drive his sword through the Lector's back if he found the opportunity. If not, he had been a sword master in life, and in death he had become only more deadly. He could cross blades with even a Stormcast or two and come out on top, but he would not be able to take on the Lector and all of his retinue alone. The mortals and the turnips of Bykaal would play their role this Mallusnacht, and before the day came a Lector of Sigmar would be dead, and his temple set ablaze. NAGASH is ALL, and ALL are one in NAGASH.
  2. Actually I believe there will be Bladegeists in the mortal realms magazines. If there are, pick up a lot of them.
  3. I agree with this and is how I have always played them. This makes the 8" flying move even more important. Most of the 'extra' move you get from Blade's fall back is the next 2d6" charge they will roll afterwards. I can see an argument in the opposite way, but I don't think you can run as part of the retreat if you still want to charge.
  4. So some points about Blades that are often not considered when they get compared to other units. The unrending save is a better dice gate than the 4++ ward on the Phoenix Guard. The reason I say that, is because when an attack gets through your save, it converts to damage before you get your shrug. This means that PG while being legendary, get smashed by high damage weapons. When you receive say a six damage attack without rend. The PG have a 4+ save to cancel the entire attack, then a 4++ on all damage that goes through. Like you said, against rend - the PG are completely better in defense, but the moment you add rend, you start canceling -more- damage at the initial save than PG. As example, I play both Aleves and Nighthaunt, and the OBR catapult that does 5 damage is terrifying to my aelves, even the PGs, and I can basically ignore them as nighthaunt. Additionally, comparing them to PGs which are universally accepted as a 'very good' warscroll... Blades will basically always have 3 attacks instead of 2. With their 1" reach that means they will often just end up with a similar number of attacks as PGs with the same attack profile. However, Blades can receive +1 attack or +1 to hit from their Knight of Shrouds, as well as rerolling all hits from chainghasts and torments. If you have a guardian you can even +1 to wound. Those sort of buffs are harder to get on PGs. But ignoring buffs to be a more direct comparison, PGs and Blades will do similar damage, because the fall back and charge rule is coupled with the +1 attack when charging rule built into the Blades. Speaking of that rule... that rule is what makes Blades better than PG even outside of Shroudguard and without any other buffs. Blades can move 8" and flying which is amazing to begin. That movement means you -should- be able to control when and where your blades are engaged in combat. They should -never- receive a charge unless you have made a major mistake or you got double turned. Additionally, the blades should -always- be charging on your active turn. Even if you just fall back 3" to charge back in. This not only gives you the +1 attack from the rule, but also lets the Blades fish for Wave of Terror throughout the entire game so long as they are alive. Additionally it lets them disengage and charge back field ranged units, support heroes, or buff pieces. You can use the enemy screen as a slingshot to cover huge amounts of distance with decent charge rolls. Usually screens are not going to do any serious damage to Blades, and on your next turn you can retreat through enemy lines and charge deeper into their backfield, or use it to cross from the right side of the battle to the left or vice versa. This single rule on the blades makes them the best unit in the Nighthaunt book in my opinion without anyone even a close runner up. The only reason I have not fielded a list spamming as many of these guys as I can is because of the actual cost in real money it would take to collect so many. Additionally, a key tactic to keep your blades alive long enough to use that special rule is to split charge enemy units. As example, I normally take my shroudguard in 20 by 5 formations. One big block of 20, one minimum group of 5 plus the Knight of Shrouds It is difficult to keep two big blocks inside the buff radius anyways. If you are charging say, a full big block of hearthguard or chaos marauders or whatever... you charge the small unit of 5 blades at the back corner of the enemy unit, and then your massive block of 20 blades barely into the front corner. Unless you get a Wave of Terror on the big block, resist the urge to pile in too much, as the idea here is to keep as many of the enemy models in the middle of the enemy unit from actually piling in to get their attacks since the models have to pile in separate directions. This can leave nearly half of whatever you charged unable to pile in and fight. Very likely you will lose the 5 blades unit in the back by the time the next activation of your troops comes around, but you will very likely have preserved the vast bulk of the 20 blade block to do a closer ranged cycle charge, or to disengage and go fight elsewhere. I used this tactic to destroy huge blocks of Daughters of Khaine, because it prevented the DoK witches from overwhelming my blades with their buckets of dice. I lost the five blade unit but only lost a few blades from the main block which got returned to the battle via the Guardian of Souls. The following charge phase that allowed all 20 to make it into combat with the witches, plus the +1 attack from the Knight of Shrouds meant that my 20 blades could all attack with 4 attacks each, hitting on 3+ rerolling, wounding on 2's. Suffice to say they ruined that block of witches and lived nearly unscarred to move on and do it again elsewhere. I traded in essence, five bladegeists for 30 witches. And this example is actually the worst case match up. Witches throw massive amounts of low rend attacks, blades shine against more elite units with less attacks with higher rend, so this tactic can even the odds for your elite blades even against things like large hordes of low quality attacks.
  5. Shroudguard exists, and I have used them in double shroudguard which makes them nearly as good as Phoenix Guard at sticking around, especially with recursion.
  6. So my dilemma is that my army is currently a 3 drop and almost always means I get to go first. This lets me win by objectives often as I can snag objectives and then grind it out in the enemy deployment zone. The Deathriders add the Dreadblades into their battalions. In the DG battalion it is only the Hexwraiths, so any and all leaders becomes extra drops. That said, I saw there was another battalion that was mKOS and x2 Dreadblades that lets the mKOS use his command ability for free once a turn. So... seems like all of my Hex's can be in one battalion, and all the leaders in another, making me a 2 drop. However... with the points drops I was able to 'upgrade' my mKOS into Reikenor the Grimhailer, which means I had an almost completely guarenteed Cogs for the +2". So by taking a mKOS and his two dreadblades into a battalion, and the Hex's into the DG... I am at two drops but I lose almost all of my movement buffs. Although... having dropped all the Black Coaches means I can likely just throw Reikenor in as a third drop... Hmmm... I had actually been relieved that the DG was made not legal because then I didn't have to make all these decisions... *shakes fist*
  7. Question about the Deloras Guard battalion... I currently use double Deathrider battalions, which boosts the ability to get the Wave of Terror and gives you a +1 to charge. It requires a black coach though, and I am not super impressed with them. Deloras Guard gives +1 attack on charge, does that apply to the Wave of Terror combat also? Seems like I could potentially move away from Deathriders, but I am a 3 drop with them and I would go up in drops swapping to the DG battalions. As a Hexwraith affictianado which is the better battalion does everyone think?
  8. I ran double deathriders before the points drops. I also made it to the third round in the AoS Coach TTS tourny with it defeating Hallowheart and OBR and only losing to Lord Kroak and teleporting salamander spam. My list was a three drop which let me always go first. Allegiance: Nighthaunt Leaders Mounted Knight of Shrouds - Artefact: Midnight Tome - Soul Cage Dreadblade Harrow - General - Artefact: Pendant of the Fell Wind - Ruler of the Spirit Hosts Dreadblade Harrow - Artefact: Sword of Secrets (Old Ulgu Artifact) Battleline 10 x Hexwraiths 5 x Hexwraiths 10 x Hexwraiths 5 x Hexwraiths Behemoths Black Coach Black Coach Battalions Deathriders Deathriders Extra Command Points: 2 I have since changed the list after the points drops removing the Mounted Knight of Shrouds because I found I never had CP for his command ability since I used them all for charge rerolls, and replacing him with Reikenor the GrimHailer and a Chronomantic Cogs. +3 to your charge is really nice. I also had to remove the Sword of Secrets after the realm artifacts were retconned. I was also able to add a molevolent mealstrom and another Dreadblade Harrow. With this list you control the battle field and where and when you engage, but the Hexwraiths can hit like pillows sometimes. The way I beat OBR for instance, was just tying them up in their own deployment zone with a turn 1 sweeping charge and sticking around long enough to rack up a massive objective lead. Teleporting dreadblades really let you be where you need to and even can pop in to assassinate wizards and the like mid-late game. In my game against Hallowheart, a dreadblade was able to slip a charge between screens and assassinate the Lord Incantor preventing the everblaze comet from ever being cast. My coaches almost always can run and charge also on first turn, but that is a bit iffy based on their power up dice. I was using only the +3" from the Pendant and I could almost always cross the no mans land on turn 1. Now that I added cogs, my deathriders are stupid fast. Don't forget Hexwraiths can do Mortal Wounds in the movement phase, and with the Wave of Terror can do damage in the charge phase. Super important because a lot of special abilities trigger in the combat phase. For instance OBR have various gimmicks that trigger in the combat phase that lets them improve their saves etc. Damaging them in the movement and charge phase circumvents those defenses.
  9. The darkness was complete. The thing that was Keegan lead three wings of the Shade-Host's hexknights through a perpetual gloom that reeked of the living must of Ghyran, None but the squirming worms and reaching roots of the realm of life could have passed the way the Shade-Host detachment did. Only the spectral can ride through solid matter as if it were not there, and the echoing ghostly beat of hooves and jingles of spectral harness and chain was absorbed eagerly by the soil of the realm of life. His command had passed through the Gyreplunge riding along the underside of the water to avoid attention as much as possible, and once through the gate, the one who had been known as Keegan lifted a shadowy blade and pointed low. The ethereal heavy cavalry company rode down at a steep angle, toward the silty bottom of the Gyreplunge's watery exit, and straight into the solid earth below the waters. The darkness was complete, for they rode through solid earth, passed through worms and roots, and passed without a trace other than a slight withering of that which they passed through. Perhaps some particularly wise soul could understand the subtle signs of their malignant passing, but the vast majority of mortals would go on happily unaware that hundreds of spectral horsemen rode beneath their feet. The goal was simple, follow the one they called Ashavohlk to his meeting with the representatives of Hammerhall, and ensure that if there was to be any treachery, it would be at the hands of Nagash's minions and not those of the betrayer-god's children. Above the unseen companies of spectral cavalry, a very visible contingent of the ghostly horsemen rode in plain view amid Ashavohlk's retinue. They rode in double column surrounding a finely wrought coach of black wood. Inside the coach as with all of the feared Black Coaches, was a vampire's coffin allegedly filled with grave sand for the vampire's comfort. This was the official capacity that the Shade-Host had agreed to aid the expedition into Ghyran. This was the official capacity that the Hammerhall detachment were told of. Riding at the head of the double column was a specter swirling with black smoke and afterimage with a winged helm and a black blade that drank in the vibrant light of the realm as if it were a dry sponge. The Dark Marquess himself rode at the head of the column, having appeared as if from no where following the transition through the realm gate. A mortarch was in play, and that meant the greater will of NAGASH was at work in this undertaking. If anything were true, it was that The Dark Marquess would be where the greatest glory to NAGASH was to be found. Bringing final vengeance to the 'Expedition' near the end of the campaign would be sweet, and drinking the souls of the betrayer-god's children with his mirror dark blade would be... exquisite. His host could ride swiftly when unbound by secrecy and the need to move at the speed of the vampire's forces. Once this deal was done, the Shade-Host would ride with all speed for Bykaal and the final showdown with Besh. First though, to show the arrogant Hammerhall the folly of their hubris. Join in on the global Animosity Narrative Campaign here: https://animositycampaigns.com/
  10. Across the freezing stretch of waters that is known as the Thawing, frosty mist slides out along the surface. Echoing as though far away, yet unable to be ignored as if it were directly on top of whose who heard it, was the ghostly sound of thousands of steel shod hooves. Clamoring in loud yet silent echoes of shouting riders, the Shade-Host rides to war. The surface of the lake's ice cracked and split as if thundering hooves were churning at the Thawing, yet no horses or men were to seen. For unlike the riders of mortal armies, or even those of the Archenemy, the riders of the Shade-Host are not constrained to the mere natural laws. As the sound and yet silence of the approaching cavalry charge rose up over the din of battle already joined between the forces of the Perpetual and the orruk barbarians near the wreck of the Marie Elaine, the Dark Marquess rode at the head of his hexknight host. Their spectral horses and riders hanging suspended upside down from the surface, riding through water as though it were air, and their hooves finding purchase on the surface of the lake as the though the air above were the ground for the inverted host. Any sea aelves in the deeps surrounding the Marie Elaine would find themselves suddenly overrun by hundreds if not thousands of spectral horsemen whose steeds ride through water as easily as if on solid ground. Even their elite eel riders would find themselves suddenly beset by spectral sword, lance, and mace that slices, pierces, and crushes the soul instead of the body. Even those enemies fighting upon the ice, orruks and grots alike, would suddenly in the midst of their combat find themselves charged by ghostly apparitions of armored knights riding up from the ice as if rising from beneath the waves, cruel swords flashing. The sudden appearance and shock of the Shade-Host's charge could break even the most stalwart of defenders, and only time would tell if the orruks and their fish aelf allies would stand before the shocking charge of ghostly heavy cavalry. Amid it all, appearing and vanishing in streaming puffs of dark ghostly smoke wherever the enemy seemed strongest, was the Dark Marquess. His sword was quickly slick with orruk and aelven blood as he sought out the champions and heroes he could find to challenge. As the din of battle carried on, the Shade-Host would continue it's strange ghostly charge and fade tactics, lending their shock and dreaded aura of fear wherever the combat seemed to need it most. The Marquess would do all he could to ensure the Perpetual carried the field this day, for the Perpetual, for Reikenor, for NAGASH. All are ONE in NAGASH, and NAGASH is all... Join in on the global Animosity Narrative Campaign here: https://animositycampaigns.com/
  11. The frosted mists clung close to the ground in the lower valleys south of Old Dyunsk. It slithered between the trunks of old trees and through the clinging vines of ancient underbrush. At some point this passage had been named Sobolev's Road by long forgotten inhabitants, or perhaps even the gods, none yet living know. These vales and woods were long haunted and devoid of human passage, and yet there came the faint echo of iron shod hooves. Were there anyone around to hear the distant, yet right on top of you sound they would surely have huddled into the brush to hide from the thunder yet echo of hundreds of warhorses. The sound was strange... it was near at hand and impossible to ignore... yet it echoed like a long remembered dream. The sound would send a chill up a man's spine and leave him wondering if he had heard it at all once it had passed. One might even swear they heard the blare of trumpets and shouting voices, yet in the next moment deny having heard anything in confusion. As it was there were none but the local natural denizens of the impassable road to note the unnaturally swift passage of ephemeral mounted silhouettes. Hundreds of flickering specters on ethereal steeds seemed to skate as much as they thundered across the tops of the unnatural mists. At their head was a figure more dark and solidified than the rest. On a massive, if mostly not there, nightmare of a warhorse with a long ancient sword raised overhead as if in a perpetual signal to charge, the Dark Marquess led his Shade-Host on its errand for their current allies known as the Expedition. The voice of the diplomat echoed in his mind as if in reminder. The thing that had been Keegan had returned with the words, and instead of speaking them the conversation had simply passed from one spirit's understanding to another. "We need to take Tsatraya. To fullfill your pact of aid, would you please send your spirits ahead..." The thing named Valencia had begun. "... gather intelligence on the pilgrimage to deliver to my agents in the city, seek out and destroy any skulking agents seeking ambush or surprise on expedition forces..." Seek and destroy myesss... that was a mission the Dark Marquess and his lost fourth and fifth sons could enjoy! The Dark Marquess twirled his sword and the hundreds of hexknights around him began to scatter like leaves in a late autumn wind. Their distant yet immediate thunder of hooves spread out across the whole of the pathways south of Old Dyunsk to the place called Tsatraya. Even as the Dark Marquess himself rode like a ball fired from a cannon directly toward the target city surrounded by his most elite and trusted lieutenants, his host scattered to counter ambush and hunt down messengers, skirmishers, and against any who could potentially give the Expeditionary forces trouble on their march to war. Ghostly knights phased directly through the stone of mountains to emerge on the other side as if the stone itself were no more boundary than the open vales. Mortals hiding in ambush found the air go even more chill as the sounds of echoing hooves drew their attentions, only to have the spirit knights materialize from the earth or out of thin air amongst them. Some were lucky enough to avoid the initial assaults, others found their souls ripped from them by the passing ghostly blades of a knight of the Shade-Host. The Shade-Host had been held in reserve for so long securing the city of Old Dyunsk with honey words and negotiations with mortals. That time was over, they would ride south and scour the lands from Old Dyunsk to Tsatraya of all small groups of agents or skirmishers. They would ride down messengers, and turn those setting up ambushes into the ones ambushed. If they found stiff resistance they would melt away into the ground or the mists or the mountain walls themselves to ride swiftly back to the marching Expeditionary forces to warn the mortal generals of where the worst resistance would be. They would be reapers of souls and the fastest scouts and messengers the forces of the Expedition could hope for. The very woods and hills and shores were suddenly the haunting grounds of a large wild hunt of angry and enthusiastic hexwraiths finally set loose across the battle space. In the actual battle for the city, the Dark Marquess himself would lurk and wait for the best chance to break the back of the Pilgrimage. He would charge into the midst of them to support the Expeditionary force, coalescing out of the fog and thin air where his charge and that of his closest retinue could do the most damage. Join in on the global Animosity Narrative Campaign here: https://animositycampaigns.com/
  12. The blare of the trumpets sounded to signal the victory, and young Arnold Holsstok, Marquess of Nacht'Tor pulled on the reigns of his massive warhorse bringing the destrier to a stop. The horse tossed his head sending his mane cascading about and wickered. Removing his helmet, a slightly pointed afair with a nasal guard and flaring yellow and black feathered wings to each side, Arnold took a moment to pat the healthy beast with a gloved hand to calm the horse's nerves. Beside him his second in command pulled to a stop as well to his left, sword in hand and eyes searching for any danger to his younger noble commander. "That is the signal from Boris, the enemy is at flight Keegan, relax!" The broad smile of the young heir of the House Holsstok turned to the old grizzled captain beside him even as the man carrying the Holsstok banner reigned to a stop to his right. "Another glorious victory for the Knight-Host mlord. At this rate we will have them cleared from the Harrowmark itself!" The jovial response from Sevrin caused the Marquess to laugh again. "Indeed Sevrin, though you don't do much but carry that bit of cloth about, not much use if I do say." The bannerman laughed as well, the relationship between the masses of third and fourth born sons that made up the Knight-Host under the young Marquess was generally light and informal in the field. Especially when they were out for a hunt in the fringes of the wood locals referred to as the Harrowmark. Unlike his father the Duke, the young heir Arnold didn't see what all the fuss was about Shyish. Of course he had been born in the realm and raised in the castle constructed on this side of the Shadevale Gate, so perhaps that is why he and his bands of forgotten lordlings could revel in hunting dark things at the fringes of the wood. Of course there were dangers, but there were dangers across any of the realms, and so far the much feared and so-called Undying King had never so much as whispered in his family's direction. The Marquess turned his light hearted gaze back to the battlefield. Dozens if not hundreds of beasts lay slaughtered in the fields. Twisted creatures half man and half beast. There were a handful of downed horses, screaming under broken legs, or unmoving and skewered on wicked spears, but for the most part it seemed the Knight-Host had come off fairly unscathed. The yellow and black banner of the Holsstok's emblazoned with the twin-tailed comet ruffled lazily as the chill Shyishan air lept up briefly before dying down again. The nearly perpetual dusk had a certain beauty to it Arnold though as another rider approached from the battlefield proper to speak with him on the small rise he had directed the battle from. Raising a hand in salute and greeting as the young man with blood spattered across his otherwise shining silver platemail rode up and spun his armored horse to a stop in front of his lord. "Casualties Edward?" "Aye mlord, we lost three. Harrington, Sigmund, and Rodrey." "Fine men, they died well." "In as glorious a charge as that mlord, aye." "Well we had bet..." The Marquess paused confused. It was as if the world itself had... flickered. At one moment the Shyishan field on the edge of the Harrowmark had been as it always had been... and for a moment only it had been darker... colder... with snow driving across his vision... Young Arnold shook his head looking back to Edward. "We had better round up the surviving citizenry. We need to escort them back to the castle. They are not going to be able to go back to their..." The Marquess flinched, gasped and drew his sword in horror and shock. Again the world was driving snow and dark sky. The familiar edges of the Harrowmark replaced by craggy hills and what seemed like... a lake? A massive frozen lake stretching out as far as he could see. But this disorienting vista was not what startled him... the man... the thing... he had been talking to called Edward hung there right where young Edward had sat astride his war horse. In his place was an ephemeral thing of tattered robes, dented and aged armor, and a skeletal beast that could only claim long distant connection to a living horse. The creature gripped semi translucient reigns in one hand, the empty sockets of the skull inside the aged armor glowed dimly with pinpoints of willo-wisp lights. "My... looord...?" The thing rasped in an unearthly voice. "My Lord?" Asked Edward, a slight quiver of fear and confusion in his voice. Marquess Arnold Holsstok blinked. He had his sword drawn, the tip leveled at young Edward's throat. "Edward... I... something is wrong..." The Holsstok heir and commander of the Knight-Host allowed the tip of his long straight sword to drop down from menacing his captain. "Wrong mlord? Did you see something?" The worried voice of his bannerman Sevrin asked as his cantered his horse a bit closer. Blinking furiously Arnold looked to his bannerman now siddling up beside him on his right. He immediately choked on his own saliva and flicked up his sword cantering his huge destrider in a circle forcing the three lietenants to back away from him if they wanted to maintain their mounts. "Lord Arnold what is wrong?!" Asked the bannerman... the youthful and jovial face of his friend Sevrin seeming a pale and semi translucent mask over the decrepit and decaying dead thing. His rich full voice interlacing with the gravely hiss of bones. "Stay back fiend! Your illusions will not entrap me!" The Marquess bellowed. The craggy grizzled face of Keegan remained unsurprised, nonplussed, and passive as his eyes tracked the spinning panic of the young noble in his charge. Arnold's eyes darted around, trying to gain his bearings and discover where the actual Knight-Host was that he had found himself surrounded by these... what? Malignant spirits trying to masquerade as his friends? Yet... there was the edge of the wood... there was the battlefield littered in defeated beastmen and the three lost men. There was no snow... no craggy hills... no dreadful lake. He rubbed his eyes frantically and looked back to his bannerman. There sat Sevrin, a worried look on his face. "My lord?" Gasping a little to calm himself down, Arnold reminded himself of who he was... he couldn't be acting a fool for some Shyishan devilry. These were his men... this must be a trick of some necromancer or beastman shaman. He turned his eyes out over the field past his three lieutenants. The dusky sky was the same, and if he craned just right he could see the mountain spur to the north where his family home was built atop a minor realmgate to Ghyran. "My lord!" A new voice called as another knight of the host rode up with two companions pressing three twisted creatures between them. "Three are still alive, perhaps they can be persuaded to point us to their herdstone." Blinking, the Marquess refocused from the horizon to look at the three wretched things. Twisted horns and bent back legs mixed with matted dark fur were common among these brutes. Luckily their cloven legs were not as swift as the Knight-Host's horses. Calming his nerves, he glanced toward the man his father kept beside him to look after him. "Keegan... I think there is sorcery in play... I..." The world flickered again... and this time stayed. Sitting upon his own nightmare steed, the tarnished armor and winged helmet dented and aged as if by centuries, Keegan's empty lamp like eyes glowered at him from empty sockets. Pulling his reigns in sudden panic to get his destrier to flee, the Marquess found his massive horse didn't so much as budge under his attempt to guide it. Losing his balance having anticipated the movement of his steed the young noble fell awkwardly from the saddle. Panic flooded through him and he immediately sprung up from the frozen ground taking his long straight shining sword in two hands and playing the point out as far as he could toward the not-Keegan. Quickly he moved back to mount his horse, still intent on fleeing... and stopped dead. Standing before him was not his destrier as he was just riding it. Standing there, reigns limp, shadowy flanks ephemeral was a massive skeletal nightmare. Gasping Arnold fell back spinning to point his shining silver sword from not-Sevrin to not-Edward. "MMmm... My looord...?" Rasped the voice of the bannerman, like dried leaves running across old stone. Young Arnold's mind started racing to make sense of this turn of events, how could... Then the laughter started. Not a sound exactly... a pressure... a feeling... The laughter was mocking, and it originated from inside his own mind. "My... loord?" Again rasped the drawn out echoing voice of the dead thing that wasn't Sevrin, holding a tattered and faded banner that whipped in the frozen snow riddled wind. The laughter grew louder and more mocking. "My lord... what ssshall we do with them...?" The Marquess whirled, silver sword flickering in the dull light of night in Shyish. Kneeling before three more undead ghostly riders were three men. Their clothing was ripped and bloodied. One appeared to have an eight pointed star branded on one arm. Pieces of haphazard armor was attached in random places on their persons. The Marquess blinked, confused that the ghostly riders were addressing him with the question. He looked into the eyes of one of brutish men, who spat in his direction. "Git it over wif you overglorified bedsheet. Some Dark Marquess you are, scared of yer own shadow seems ta me." The warrior of the dark gods gave a sneering grin revealing bloodied missing teeth. Apparently he had lost them recently. The laughter now boomed in Arnold's head, the mocking taking on a harsher tone. The wind whipped, snow driving straight into Arnold's eyes. Yet... it didn't seem to bother him any. In fact... he didn't feel the cold at all. Arnold looked to his horse... a massive creature of insubstantial shadow with pinpoints of light in the sockets of its skull. His eyes scanned across his ghostly lieutenants who looked at him expectantly. The wild laughter of the captured mortal echoed the disembodied voice laughing mockingly in his mind. "Nagash is ALL... ALL are ONE in Nagash..." Whispered a voice in the back of Arnold's mind causing a cold feeling to spring up in his gut. He lifted his ancient and pocked blade that drank in the light and reflected none of it, pointing the tip at the throat of the man on his knees. "Stop laughing!" Shouted the Marquess, heir to the Holsstok Dutchy. "Look what you have become, proud son of Holsstok's line." Echoed the mocking voice inside his head. Arnold blinked noticing the decayed state of his riding gloves. Lifting his offhand he could see the pale bones of his skeletal hand through the worn out patches of ancient armored gloves. The tip of his light eating black blade drooped slightly as he staggered backward, eyes scanning himself in rising alarm. "You and your family are mine, as you would always be. The cost of your trespass and the trespass of your entire lineage is to serve me forever. Justice must be done." Whispered the voice in his head. "Myy... loordd...?" Hissed the voice of the not-Sevrin bannerman. "Remember for a time, despair in the ruin of your family and its legacy." Whispered the voice in the depths of Arnold's mind. "Ha, some spook o' Nagash you are." Shouted the obstinate mortal. Swift as a blink, the towering ephemeral form of the Dark Marquess jittered into place before the kneeling mortal. The blade moving too swift to register. All three captured mortals slumped into the snow, pools of blood quickly staining the driven snow on the shores of Lake Bykaal. The thing that was Keegan sat silently upon his ethereal steed, his sword of stolen hours still gripped in hand as he watched his charge, the man he had betrayed and the spirit that was now his general remount onto his massive shadowy nightmare. Pin points of light burned in the sockets of the thing that was Keegan's skull as he watched the thing that was Sevrin hand the winged helmet over to the Dark Marquess. The lost son of the dead house of Holsstok slid the cursed helmet over the ephemeral grinning skull. "Your orderssss... my loord?" Asked the thing that had been Edwards. "We should return to the keep to feast before the next hunt! My father will be pleased with the victory we have won here today." Bellowed the young lord as he smiled broadly to his lieutenants around him. Jovial Sevrin grinning back as he rolled up the gleaming banner of house Holsstok. "I will round up the men My Lord." Said Edwards crisply, with a salute. Young Lord Arnold smiled a contented smile, things in his family's dutchy couldn't be better in these warm summer days on the edges of the Harrowmark. He really didn't understand what all the dread was about here in Shyish. The grim blank eyes of the thing that had been Keegan watched his charge as they began riding north towards Old Dyunsk... through the driving snow. Join in on the global Animosity Narrative Campaign here: https://animositycampaigns.com/
  13. Can anyone show the cards that are in the warband? I plan on making a Tzeentch Demons AoS/40k army, and I figured I could pick up the warband cards, but I am curious to see what all the options ended up being. Stormcast and others are spoiled, but no one seems to be showing the Tzeentch Demon cards. I have even seen the Arcanite cards already. Can't even theory craft if I don't know what options there are.
  14. Hello change casters, I sold out of AoS several months ago as my local area did not partake in it very much, it is mostly a 40k area. Personally I prefer AoS, but you know how it is when there is a local game that is the primary, you play it or you play very infrequently. That said, there still are people hosting AoS events once a month and I want to help support my local AoS health, so I figured I would buy into AoS again. I was always tempted by a Demons army because it can be played in both AoS and 40k, letting me double duty the paint work and finance investment. My problem was that I was on the fence between Khorne and Tzeentch (heresy I know) and while i was debating my selection the new Disciples of Tzeentch battletome dropped out of no where. So... my goal is to make a list that is compatible with 40k and AoS, which restricts me from taking most of the AoS mortals like the acolytes and gaunt summoners and the like. On the 40k side, Tzaangors only exist in the Thousand Sons codex and not in codex Deamons for some reason and I am a big fan of the birdy gors. So I decided to use the limitations of the Thousand Sons choices for my AoS list to start off, obviously adding more in the future. I am not trying to win every game, but I also don't want to be a complete push over. The goal is to make my opponents new and experienced alike enjoy playing against me so the community grows. This is the list I came up with. Leaders Lord of Change Tzaangor Shaman Tzaangor Shaman Battleline x30 Tzaangors x10 Tzaangors x10 Tzaangors Other x3 Tzaangor Skyfires x3 Tzaangor Skyfires 1980/2000 Points I have no coven or artifact or command trait as I have no idea what is best for a tzaangor army like this, and I figured I would ask those who know better here. As to realm, I was thinking Ethereal Amulet on the Lord of Change or something but I am sure there are better options.
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