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  1. I've been experimenting with spells from the lore of the Storm, the lore of Invigoration and the endless spells specific to the Stormcast. I've come away with some impressions and I'd like to leave this thread as a guide to new players as well as a springboard for some conversation from current SE players. Lore of the Storm- very much a hit or miss lore, this lore is all about dealing mortal wounds and not always in a satisfying fashion. Lightning Blast- A fine little spell that's quite reliable on your lesser caster heroes who don't have the "prime electrids" ability. Its cheap and it has UNLIMITED range! Starfall- this is a bad spell, it's cheap to cast but basically works like a shotgun arcane bolt (which sounds cooler than it is). The range is very limiting at 12", the 6" bubble is nice but you still need to roll 4+ per unit to hit them and its only 1 wound per unit. Thundershock- A personal favorite of mine, though it's not guaranteed to have an effect even if you successfully cast it. dealing mortal wounds is just icing on the cake, you really take this for the -1 debuff which is always huge, its like have another relictor thunderstorm prayer that can hit multiple units. Azyrite Halo- Another reliable pick for me, combos very well with our shield bearing units for which we are spoiled. Put on a unit of sequitors channeling into their shields for maximum value. Throwing back mortals on an unmodified 6 is really solid in most combats you will find yourself in. Chain Lightening- basically a better Starfall with 2 higher casting value. You get twice the range, better targeting bubble in my opinion and you're doing better damage right away if it goes off. I think the damage could be better for its cost but its not a terrible pick. Stormcaller- a bad spell, it has a high cost and is too conditional. every enemy unit gets rolled for which is nice but you need a 6+ to hit them for d3 MW. Think about how many times you've rolled 12 or more die and come up with ZERO 6's. Its too random and unreliable. If it was on a 5+ would be the only way I would consider taking it. Lore of Invigoration- your combat multipliers and a sold lore for a few reasons not least of which is that your evocators can pick a spell from here. Terrifying Aspect- it's ok, but you've got so many better options. Celestial Blades- better option #1. flexible and cheap with good range, you will never regret taking it. Plus 1 to wound is always great, will make your liberators actually kill stuff. Speed of Lightning- an excellent pick on Evocators, their one weakness is to rending attacks and the best way to avoid that is to getting into combat at the right time with the right enemies. This spell makes that happen, my evocators win me games alone with this spell, get into combat when they can be chosen first and make sure it happens that turn. Endless Spells- two spells that are just fine and one that's quite an investment but potentially very potent if used intelligently. Celestian Vortex- it's ok except against chaos where it's amazing. has an added benefit of reducing missile weapon accuracy so it can be used as a screen if you plan right. Dias Arcanum- a strange one who's effect doesn't match it's own lore. needs to be used by a 5 wound wizard, gives them plus 1 to save, 12" flying move and an additional unbinding pretty useful even if you don't need the extra unbind. Everblaze Comet-a pretty cool spell with a cool model. can be cast without line of sight and outside unbinding range. has an immediate mortal wound output that punishes close knit armies. acts as area denial because it continues to pump out mortal wounds over time and disrupts enemy casting attempt making the cast on a -1. the only negative thing you can say about this endless spell is that it's not a steal for points. you pay for it but if you are clever with it you can really mess with your enemy.
  2. art by Darek Zabrocki I'm starting this plog and narrative thread to chronicle the creation of my Stormcast Eternals stormhost, the Empyrean Stormhounds. The strange lands of Noczver, homeland of the Stormhounds, and it's inhabitants will also be detailed here. "Of all the lands of the realms I have visited, none have been as dour a place as these: the gray wyrd-lands that lie on the bleeding edge between Shyish and Ghur. The Free Peoples here are hard and humourless, filled with cold suspicion and overcome with superstition. They do not venture out after sundown and they speak in hushed tones of dark monsters, hulking beasts, and pale vampyre lords who bend the knee to Nagash. Even the nobility I have treated with here are of grim disposition, and I care not for it. It seems as though the preternatural dread found in these lands is contagious, and I dare not tarry here long." ~ excerpt from A Diary of the Realms by Aurelia Octavenus
  3. Hello there! I am new at AoS. I started with Khorne army. My friends (some of them know Warhammer from FB, other are new here just like me) organized small league - to know better the rules and have some fun. To be honest, most of them got Stormcasts. We set that first battles gonna be played on armies on 750 points on first scenario - First Blood. For now I have those units: - Blood warriors x15 - Bloodreavers x10 - Mighty Lord of Khorne - Bloodsecrator - Bloodstoker - Slaughterpriest x2 - Garrek's Reavers - Khorgoraths - Mighty Skullcrushers x3 - Skarbrand Can anyone help me with set up army for 750 points? And my second question - how to fight vs Stormcasts with ranged units? Any ideas? Any advices?
  4. Hello! And welcome to my review of the novel Warbeast by Gav Thorpe. I'd like to start off explaining why I have decided to write this review about two years after having read it. My interest in the Age of Sigmar universe was restored after the release of 2.0 and I immediately began digging into the wikis' and lexicanum to absorb all I had missed, especially everything pertaining to my lead faction : the Stormcast. I was thrilled to read all the Malign Portents shorts and to read about characters like Hamiclar Bear-Eater and Balthus Arum while being sad that the most famous named character from my host Thostos Bladestorm is perma-dead. To top it all off in all the list of all the characters with lore entries I read none of the awesome characters I read about in Realmgate Wars: Warbeast had entries. I have decided I cannot let this stand so I am here to regale you with the tales of Arkas Warbeast and Theuderis Silverhand. Ok so I am not going to drop the entire story here but I'm going to give a brief summary and then in a separate paragraph I will list a few spoilers that I feel are really interesting or at least they were at the time. The novel picks up right away with the instant striking of a lone Stormcast (Arkas Warbeast) a Lord Celestant of the Celestial Vindicators (the choppy ones) into Ghur in the middle of a tribe of bloodbound reavers who he proceeds to butcher. Whats interesting is Arkas has been sent to not just his home realm of Ghur but to the very lands he failed to defend from the Skaven (especially a certain Verminlord) centuries ago. The setting is Usungorod, a clear allegory to dark age Russia. The land is a frozen tundra and you can imagine the brillant colors of turquoise and red clashing among the white snow. You learn that The Warbeast chamber has been sent to reclaim a realmgate that leads to the realm of life. You also learn that they are only one half of the force meant to retake the gate which is held by the skaven who are attempting to use it to their own evil ends. The other half is a force led by Theuderis Silverhand of the Knights Excelsior stormhost. Theuderis is interesting in that he is formerly of the realm of metal and was a king who successfully repelled the chaos forces that attempted conquer his lands. Both these characters clash as do the tactics of their stormhosts ( it seems the Knights Excelsior have been retconned into brutal purists rather than strict disciplined by the book types). However they both have serious personal questions about their purpose and the wisdom and intent of their God-King Sigmar not least of which is motivated by their policy on discovered survivors. There are brutal, visceral fights, but the real heart of this book is the incredibly human depictions of the Stormcast especially Arkas himself. I love this novel and absolutely recommend you read it if you're able. It almost seems nostalgic to look back at a time before the building of the great cities or the assault on the allgates. Have you read this book? If so how did you like it? Lets have a discussion! Spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The Frost Queen of Kislev makes an appearance with some interesting revelations. The story takes place in a region of Ghur with particularly potent magic influence and the characters struggle against its influence on their minds. It is revealed that the Warbeast purpose are to die, confronting the overwhelming Skaven alone and sell their lives dearly as the more regimented Knights Excelsior coast on to the realmgate with the bulk of the Skaven drawn away. My favorite: Arkas used to be a Were-Bear when he was mortal. Whats more he still is. he thought his reforging had removed the "flaw" but he will live with the bear spirit inside him forever and he must learn to become one with the beast.
  5. I had some time to go over the Stormcast today and taking into account my last ten games I've come to some conclusions about what I believe could be done to balance and sensibly adjust the internal workings of the faction. This is not exhaustive. I haven't even gotten into our battalions; which in my opinion are almost all unplayable in any kind of competitive environment save one or two. This is also intended to spark conversation so please, contradict me! I hope this post takes off and we get a good bit of discussion in here, thank you in advance for your time considering the following... -Liberators remain at 100pts but cap at 20 for 360. Sequitors go to 140-160pts capping at 440. -Paladins fall, using Retributors as a baseline to 180-200pts and Evocators rise to 220-240pts. (Personally I'd like to see a buff to paladins to reflect their abilities as described by the lore.) -Judicators stay constant and Castigators become battleline in the same manner as Sequitors. (Reasom here being the stormcast have maybe 6ish shooting options and Judicators are taken 95% of the time due to being the only ranged focused battleline option.) -Dracothian Guard remain the same as do Evocators on Dracolines. I have heard arguments to the contrary and that is why I list it here. -Prosecutors fall to 80 points. -Gryph hounds to 100 points. -Lord Exorcist to 100 points. -Change wording on all special characters from "Hammers of Sigmar" to "Unit with the same Stormhost Keyword" so that no one is locked from having a special character because they play/paint a different host as in the old days.
  6. Is the Arcanum on Tauralon the best option for taking a multi casting Order wizard? Furthermore is he even worth his points? He seems to have a lot of mediocre abilities and traits for that don't justify his cost when you could just take a second wizard in his stead. I'm not experienced enough to make the call myself so any weigh-ins are appreciated.
  7. I’ve found scores of websites selling custom bits for space marines but precious few selling anything custom for fantasy games. Does anyone know where I can find some custom shoulder pads for my stormhost which actually match the default ones? Or even better know where I can get some made? I messaged a few people on Shapeways who made custom space marine bits but either got no answer or a generic “yeah space marine stuff works” kinda replies. I’m attempting to build a massive Stormcast army (will be a very slow build kinda project) and honestly I’m not thrilled with the bulk of the army bearing lions then a couple of units having bears and a single hero with an eagle. I’m making press mold duplicates of the Venator pad to use on all of Justicar Conclave units. Will use the default lions for redeemers, and debating on the bear for either the exemplar or angelos conclaves. This leaves me wanting for another option for the final group and I’m not sure what I will do yet. If anyone has any ideas for totem animals or has a source for pads that match those already used by the models I’m open to suggestions. I’ve already tried sculpting my own dragon head shoulderpad using a D&D dragon model as the sacrifice but it didn’t come out that great (and the press mold failed big time).
  8. Ok so I’ve been into AoS for about a year now and I’ve played with my mates stormcast army and loved them. Now I’m ready to buy some myself and the new start colllecting set (thunderstrike brotherhood) is worth around 800pts so for £50 it’s pretty great so I’m planning on just buying x3 of that in one go so really what I’m asking is would that be an effective fighting force?
  9. There are those in the mortal realms who feel the call of the beast more than other; people cursed or gifted with lycanthropy, shape shifters and many others who feel the call of the animal inside. However this is not a tale about lycanthropes, This is the record of the Knights of the Hunter Moon, I Ammar, chronicler of the Stormhost will record the histories, of the host and it's members. To begin this we must go back to a time, to a time when the people who are now stormcast were mortal. However at that time they were more beast than person. Running through the wilds in packs. It was until they encountered a glade belonging to the Sylvaneth, they would not die here however. They were taught to master their beast and would live as humans would. As more of their number gathered they built the grand city of Namuras, this however did not last long, Chaos struck. Preceding the first few battles that took place the Order of the Hunter Moon was founded, Knights who would turn what was once their curse into their gift against the forces of chaos. Many years passed, until there were times when peoples grand parents knew not of a time when the city was under siege. Chaos had forced the city into a last stand at it's center. When all seemed lost the sound of thunder rolled over and in the blinding flash those who defended the city as mortals now did so as stormcast. Decades after that fateful siege the Knights of the Hunter Moon, born from the souls who were in the Order of the Hunter Moon. Since then more than just those with Lycanthropy have become apart of the stormhost. Those of other were-blood, shape shifters and others who are connected to the animal inside of them. This will be a slow developing plog as I don't have much time or money so I'll be posting new things when I can, for now this is my test model I did a short while ago. Hellexis Storm-born, grew up among the human tribes in realm of beasts. When her parents died she left for a new life, shortly after that she encountered a pack of werewolves who surprisingly welcomed her in viewing her as being outcast from her own home, within a couple of weeks she became one of them. She ran with them for many winters until her pack encountered the forces of chaos, she chose to stand alone while the rest of her pack made their way to safety.
  10. All models now assembled it was time to put splash a little colour all over them. I had some idea of what I wanted but I asked around, as I am very unsure when it comes to colour choice and colour scheme, and this can cause pauses in painting that last years or the thread never gets picked up again, because i can't decide what colour the sash should be or how to highlight from the base colour I've sploshed on. If I can cut out this indecision and consternation before I even pick up a brush perhaps it will help me finish a project, which is a mission statement of this blog. To get me over the finishing line. So I had some options I put out there for opinions, and finally went for a Dark, British Racing Green with White accent and Gold spot color. I would do all weapon hafts purple, extra robes, belts etc black. Weapons Leadbelcher to Stormhost silver. The Soul Grenades I haven't decided whether to do Blue glass or Fiery red to show they are explosives, so I will do a mixture of the two and see which I prefer. The model I had converted most heavily was were I would test my scheme because I had invested the most ambition into this model my motivation was at its highest. The model is a Sequitor (Sequitor Prime?) that I swapped a Blood Angel head onto, chopped the hand off, replacing it with the Darkoath Chieftan's Silver Tower, trophy Tzaangor hand, doing a rough green stuff fur/hair to hand but I'm not very good with green stuff, hopefully you can't see the join. I'm not sure the black with blue sash, works, I went for an Ash Blond hair on this model, but think I'll do Black, grey on others. Made a wash from Fenris grey for the white robes but think I went too blue so tried to rescue it later. This after trying to plan my paints before starting model to prevent exactly this happening, but I guess I minimized these sorts of hurdles for myself by planning in advance. Not great photography, sorry. I attemped to go Blue Lightning tribal tattoos on his check bones, but I think he looked better without them. I do not know how to paint the Soul Grenade vails, I used the technique for space marine lenses but i think I'll have try something else and perhaps Blue on the next model. And I'm ****** at horns.
  11. Hans Sturm was an armsman in the service of House Reike-Woerlitz, long before the present day- back when the Horse and Rivers still flew proudly over Ghyran, more than five centuries ago. He struggled long and hard in the service of his patrons, rising to be second-in-command of the Household Guard, the elite musketeers tasked with the family's defense. These were the waning years of a time of peace, though there was always a brushfire conflict flaring up somewhere- be it a nest of bandits that needed to be cleared out or feral raiders from the deeper, darker corners of the Realm. Thus when the end came neither Hans nor the Household Guard were caught entirely unprepared. It wasn't enough, though. It was never enough. Hordes of invaders smashed the towns and keeps of the Horse and Rivers, and themselves, bloody, sending waves of refugees fleeing somewhere, anywhere, looking for safety. By and large, these desperate souls collected at the fortress of Eisenstulpe, ancient refuge of the Woerlitz clan and one of the few points with an intact port capable of transporting the desperate fleeing masses to Azyr. Hot on their heels came the legions of the enemy- marauders, cultists, demons, and a vast, choking wave of those who'd fallen before. Marching at the invaders' head was Fritz Grauber, formerly first in command of the Household Guard, fallen in the opening battles of the war and raised again as Nurgle's pestilential servant. They encircled the fortress, trapping thousands inside its iron chambers with a rapidly dwindling supply of food. Among those trapped were Hans, the Household Guard, and their lord, Frederick Reike-Woerlitz. Fortunately, there was good news- a relief flotilla was sailing its way up towards Eisenstulpe, one capable of transporting all the refugees to safety. The fortress was carved into a mountain, with the majority buried underground. Only two ways in or out existed- one, the River Gate, which had been sealed and flooded at the beginning of the war. Even if Nurgle's servants could swim, they couldn't pierce through and enter. Two, the High Gate, which was set halfway up the mountain, at the top of a winding road, defended by a bastion. It was here that the armies of the Plague God directed their scabrous attentions first. Again and again, the defenders beat them back with ranged-in artillery, until they ran out of shells to fire. When that happened, they lobbed barrels of flaming oil in a crude catapult, until it was destroyed by vile Nurglish sorcery. Then the Household Guard proved their worth, standing their ground for three whole days and defending themselves nearly constantly with nothing but powder, shot and faith in Sigmar. Finally, though, their supplies of ammunition began to run low. Worse, in the final attack, Lord Frederick was badly wounded. Hans ordered him withdrawn inside the fortress, and took on the burden of keeping up the men's morale himself. Traveling constantly up and down the lines, never stopping to rest, he encouraged them to stand just a little longer, saying that the relief fleet couldn't be more than a few hours or a day away. In the last attack, when the Guard finally ran out of bullets, he was at the front and had to be dragged by his men back inside the High Gate proper when the walls of the bastion were breached. Even there, he could be found in the thick of the hand-to-hand fighting, turning the tide wherever it seemed that the elite soldiers might be giving ground. At last, the poxy swarms fell back, giving the Guard a moment to breathe. It was not to be enough, he realized. Faith and valor had carried the Guard this far, but only at the expense of two-thirds of their number and all of their bullets. And there were still legions upon legions of the enemy massing for their next strike. There was one more barrel of powder left, and Hans knew what must be done. Ordering the rest of the Guard to retreat inside the fortress itself and to hold until death, he sat down at the narrowest point of the High Gate passage and played his fife. It was not long before the awful clatter of the demon-horde approaching reached his ears, and his old commander came walking up at the head of a parade of plaguebearers. "So confident?" Fritz's face had mostly sloughed away, and his remaining flesh was riddled with decay. "Or have you finally known what despair is? No matter. You will know the Plaguefather's touch when he crushes your people beneath him." "I did not come here to despair, nor to be defeated." Hans drew a pistol from his belt. "Today I will show you what it means to be a true Freisoldat." At that moment Fritz saw the barrel of explosive powder set up against a support column, but before he could do or say anything Hans had fired. The explosion shook the chamber, but not so much as the tons of rock that fell from the collapsing ceiling. The dull Nurglish daemons barely had time to comprehend their doom before it was upon them, and they were buried under the vengeful mountain. It was not long afterwards that the Reike-Woerlitz flotilla reached the River Gate, and by means of secret signs made itself known to the defenders. The refugees were saved, snatched out of the claws of the Poxed God by the bravery of one man. Today, there is a statue of him standing in front of the Reike-Woerlitz estate in Azyr. More than this, though, he has been reforged and reborn- a truly noble spirit, an iron warrior of Sigmar. ------ The storytellers call Brother Hans the Iron Warrior, the Unflinching, the Defiant, the Hero of Eisenstulpe, the Venerated, the Resolute, the Exemplar.
  12. It makes me sad too, I love the model, I think he is quite striking with the halberd and lantern but while he was appealing he is lacking compared to other melee hero options in the army. The main thrust of my argument is based on his competition that, in my opinion you would never not take over the Castellant... the Lord Veritant. The catellants lantern is largely useless in this period of the game as you must roll a 7+ for a save which is near impossible given the prevalence of rend and the nerfing of mystic shield. The Veritant has a lantern therefore he can take mystic lights, he's a wizard hunter including being able to unbind in some cases with +3 to the role. He has the gryphhound. He has the same weapon plus one attack. He is a priest and can take a prayer. All this he gets for a measly 20 points over the Castellant. I think the Veritant needs nerfing less than I think the Castellant needs buffing/rewriting. I think a lot of the early stormcast units/models need a small rework to make sense in the new landscape and that they were designed with a different kind of game in mind. Looking forward to arguments and concurrences.
  13. Hey all, Long-time gamer, but recent convert to Age of Sigmar. I played in a 8th ed tournament just before AoS was released, and had such a bad time that I wasn't terribly upset with the demise of the Warhammer world. I had been planning to build a Dark Elf army up until this point, and had collected a bunch of models with the intention of putting it together for 8th ed. But when AoS dropped, I decided to bide my time and to see what happened once the dust settled. And sure enough, the General's Handbook came out and some of my friends convinced me to give it a go, and I loved it at once. I still have my Dark Elfs, but I decided to buy some Sylvaneth first, knowing that I can paint and use my elves with the Sylvaneth as well as wait for whatever they decide to do with Aelfs. I've actually got a lot of Order-flavoured models hanging around, so it's going to be good to have a reason to paint them and use them together, even if that's not always the most optimal way to play. I'm a pretty casual gamer, but I like the points system as I usually play at a club and it's a much easier way to arrange games with that system. And I'm much more a painter than gamer, so I tend to buy and paint things I like the look of, rather than just its tabletop performance. Over the years I've become a strict adherent to the "Play It Painted" mantra, as I discovered it both motivates me to paint it so I can use it, and makes me enjoy the game that much more when everything looks good. My local gaming club (Outpost 6030 in Perth, Western Australia) is running an AoS slow grow league to get people playing the game, and I'm going to be doing my Sylvaneth first up. I've got my first unit of Dryads painted below, and my Branchwych and Kurnous Hunters are almost done. Some of you might recognise that I've followed the Winterleaf colour scheme somewhat. I'd always planned a winter colour scheme, but after reading their background it was an easy decision to go with them, as the fact they like to ally with anyone to fight chaos fits into the idea of my army quite nicely! So thanks for having me, comments and criticism welcome.
  14. So I'd like some help here, I'm a pretty inexperienced player having a very small number of games under my belt despite having the models for many years I've only played maybe 3 or 4 games of Warhammer Fantasy/AoS. I want to list models and units I currently have built and have you guys make up a functioning 1000 and or 1500 point army if you're interested. I have the GHB 2018 and the new Core Rule book and my local store just got a scene going so I'm anxious to finally play. My units are as follows: All Stormcast from first starter set. +2 more Retributors to complete squad 1x Castellent and Griffhound 4x Fulminators not yet built. 1x Knight Incantor. 1x Freeguild General on Griffon 1x FG General and on Horse 2x Battlemage 20x Greatswords 20x FG Guard with sword and board 10x Hangunners 6x Demigrypyh Knights 1x Hurricanum not yet built 5x sisters of the Thorn (I imagine these are going in no matter what) Basically how good of a list can you make out of the materials at hand? Thanks for reading I can't wait to hear some tips and tactics.
  15. So I got two soul wars' worth of castigators. I want to make them into viable deepstrike battle line, Judicators with crossbows. I'm thinking of: Rotating the vertical "bendy parts" of the crossbows to be horizontal instead. Removing the bombs at the tip of the bows (and from the hand of the champion). Perhaps adding sword, pike, or bolt tips from the bits box at the end to represent a resting/ready bolt. I'm not adding any lightning iconography nor the front pavisse. Do you feel that this is enough to be okay against all adversaries?
  16. Hi, this is my take on a Soulstrike Brotherhood army. I usually run an Aquilor+Hunters+Palladors list, so for 120 points, two small units of Castigators (which are bad but a bit better with the bonus) and a Ballista I already wanted to field, I get a CP and the additional artifact. I wanted to try Anvils with Longstrikes, I know I would get a lot more mileage from a bigger unit, but I will likely use the CA in the combat units beyond turn 1. I think it's an interesting list, biased towards shooting but with some magic and CC punch into the mix. Allegiance: Stormcast Eternals - Stormhost: Anvils of the Heldenhammer  Leaders Lord-Aquilor (200) - General - Mount Trait: Aethereal Stalker Lord-Arcanum on Tauralon (340) - Mount Trait: Steel Pinions Lord-Relictor (100) Battleline 5 x Vanguard-Hunters (120) - Boltstorm Pistols and Shock Handaxes 5 x Vanguard-Hunters (120) - Boltstorm Pistols and Shock Handaxes 5 x Judicators (160) - Skybolt Bows - 1x Shockbolt Bows Units 3 x Castigators (80) 3 x Castigators (80) 3 x Vanguard-Palladors (200) - Boltstorm Pistols and Starstrike Javelins 5 x Evocators (200) 3 x Vanguard-Raptors with Longstrike Crossbows(180) War Machines Celestar Ballista (100) Battalions Soulstrike Brotherhood (120) Total: 2000 / 2000 2x Hunters, 2x Castigators and the Celestar Ballista on the sky, rest on the ground. My questions for you are: -What would be better for that list, Lord Relictor or Castellant? Relictor would have Blessed Weapons (to buff Palladors before they teleport, Longstrikes or Judicators) and could heal someone brought back by Cycle. Lord Castellant would bring the hound to help guard the backline from deepstrikes, and use his lantern on one of the redeploying units (Lord Aquilor, Palladors), on the LAoT before he goes forward or on the backline units. Both sound useful. -Who should get the crappy artifact? Then, which one would you recommend for the other? Please, if possible, no Lens. I'm already sick of seeing it in lists ?. In fact, please don't suggest Realms artifacts (I hate that they are usually clearly better than Battletome ones). -What spell sounds better for the LAoT? Thundershock sounds potentially powerful for close-range support. Stormcaller to put pressure on lone heroes is also cool. Celestial Blades could help my few CC units, and Speed of Lightning could be useful (but for a single turn, when my CC units drop). Thanks for any help! I think this kind of collective thought helps us all to polish the potential of the army.
  17. Hello there, I'm going to paint my stormcast warband from shadespire, i like the playstyle but i wanted to integrate a few conversion on the mini. My first question to you is would you mind playing against this conversion of anghara, based on neave blacktalon, and do you think i should modify it further? Any more sugestion? Cheers! Anamnesis
  18. In the realm of Ghur, there is a ruined castle called Yarbrough, often shrouded in fog and rain. Nothing lives there anymore save the creatures of fen and moor, finding shelter from the elements within the ancient stone. When the wind blows, though, it carries the sounds of ancient horns with it, and when the sun shines it illuminates an inscription hidden in the walls- HmIAFD- that is, Hugh Macintosh and the Black Watch. Centuries ago, when the Age of Myth came crashing down, Tam Yarbrough was lord over Castle Yarbrough. His house had ruled the lands fairly and well for uncounted years, and he was rich and strong and well-loved. When news came of a marauding army of Orruks rampaging through the region, he wasted no time in rallying his retainers to war, marching proudly forth to the sound of drums and trumpets. A glittering host they were, a legion resplendent in the sun, going out to hold back the Greenskin storm just as their ancestors had held back the storms of Ghur. But this is not their story, nor is it Tam's. At the place known as Loch Haverforth the proud Yarbrough host met their match in the Orruk Warboss known as Tarlen the Evermighty, and it's said that the flowers on the lakeshore still grow red in their memory. Hugh MacIntosh was a strong, proud man, but no loyal soldier of Yarbrough was he. He was a bandit chief, having raided the rich and the poor of that land for many years and accomplished deeds of infamy before he found himself in Lord Tam's dungeons, awaiting the hangman's noose. When news came of Lord Tam's defeat, Castle Yarbrough was thrown into a panic. The Orruk host was marching inexorably towards them, and there was not enough strength to hold the walls against them. Tam's loyal retainers, the men he had left behind to defend the castle, lost heart and fled to meet their ends like fugitives or hunted animals. Hugh found himself a free man, released from his cell once again. He could have fled, or avenged himself upon the castle and its inhabitants for his imprisonment. Instead, he looked out upon the column of refugees that would fall victim to the Orruks, and his heart was strangely moved to pity. Gathering his boon companions around him, he declared that the end of the world had come upon them, and it was time for all true sons of Ghur to make their stand. Give him his pipes and a blade, he promised, and he would buy time for the women and children to escape. Wicked and dishonorable men they might be, but even the black-hearted must take their watch when it was demanded of them. Seven of them barricaded themselves in the keep and made ready for their doom. The Orruks were not long in coming, falling on the castle with a vengeance. Equal to their fury, though, were Hugh and his men, driving back the brutes with their two-handed swords every time they tried the tower. Still, it was not enough. One by one, Hugh's companions fell, until at the midnight hour only Hugh stood in the innermost keep, holding the last door. In the darkness, he played his pipes, their ghostly sounds echoing over the massed Orruk warhost and filling them with a primal dread. Had Boss Tarlen not been there, the horde might have abandoned their siege altogether. He bullied the Boyz into attacking, and as first light came they fell upon "da Lady from Hell" again. Hugh was filled with heavenly rage, and could not be moved- still, he was only one man, and he tired. And then came Boss Tarlen, twice the height of a man, armored in the stolen finery of the Realms. Hugh gave a final cry and leaped forth- and there his story ends. Only the Orruks remember his final stand, and what became of him. Still, it is telling that when Boss Tarlen was next seen, he boasted a scar from forehead to chin, and that he and his horde were forevermore afraid of the sound of pipes. ------ The storytellers call Hugh MacIntosh the Black Watchman, Warden of the Storm, the Lady from Hell, the Herald of Cacophony, Orruk-bane, the Seventeenth.
  19. In Shyish, there is a mountain range, the Day's End Mountains, behind which the sun seems to be perpetually setting. One of these peaks, Mount Hadreth, stretches far above the others, its top obscured constantly in an unearthly fog even while the air becomes almost too thin to breathe. Near the summit, there is a door, and behind it a stairway said to lead deep into the heart of the mountain. From there- although none had walked the stair in many generations by the end of the Age of Myth- the passageway led to a series of massive caverns, stretching throughout the roots of the entire range. Taken together, the people of that region know this as the Tomb of Eternal Life, where souls are said to reside forever beneath the world of the living in society with one another. It is forbidden that one of the living should enter the Tomb, just as it is forbidden that one of the dead should seek to exit and return to the living. But humans are weak creatures who cannot hold even to the rules they set for themselves. For this reason, the door must always be guarded, lest someone in their hubris might seek to be reunited with one they have lost. These eternal guardians maintained an unblinking vigil, keeping the door- already protected by mighty theurgy- safe by the strength of their arms and their faith in their cause. This ended, though, like so many other things, with the coming of Chaos. It had long been prophesied that when the end came, the guardians of the dead would descend to fight alongside the living. Thus, the commander of the watch, who was human despite her calling, led her comrades into battle against the great hordes of the Dark Gods at the foot of the mountain. For eight days and nights, the soldiers of the mountains struggled with legions of daemons and cultists, but the end should never have been in doubt. The door watch was wiped out to a soul, and the gate lay unguarded for many decades. During this time, though no mortal could yet penetrate the wards, daemons slipped in to trouble the dead, and malefic spirits came out to trouble the living. Thus was the balance of the world upset, until someone came to restore order to life and death again. ------ Rebecca grew up the daughter of a poor farmer, eking out a living in the foothills of the Day's End mountains. They lived constantly in the shadow of the Dark Gods- almost literally, since the followers of Chaos had built great iron fortresses on the heights to assert their dominion over the people below. Though they ruled the land, the overlords of the mountains contented themselves with their fastnesses, only sending out their tax collectors and enforcers to exact punishing tribute every few weeks. Thus, Rebecca's family was able to live in relative peace, and she was raised on the whispered tales of a time before enemies overran the mountains, when the heights were held by the guardians of the Tomb of Eternal Life. Even as a child, she longed to see the gate that led into the tomb herself- but knew that she could not. The Gate had long since been fenced in by the sorceror-lords who had taken Mount Hadreth as their private domain. In this day, they ruled over her hamlet, and from time to time misshapen abominations would wander down from the mountains to snatch one or two of Rebecca's neighbors away for whatever purposes the sorcerers thought to put them to. Rebecca was plain, and quiet, and quick to run, and thus she evaded the overlords' "tribute". Still, it burned at her, as it would burn at anyone, to see her friends and relatives stolen so unjustly.She made a quiet vow that she would one day give retribution to the sorcerers for all they had taken from her and her people. That day came sooner than she would suspect. In her seventeenth year, Rebecca was engaged to the love of her life, a farmer boy named Abraham. When the abominations came to exact tribute in the winter of that year, though, he tripped over a root- and was seized by one of the creatures. Filled with a mighty rage, Rebecca grabbed a pitchfork and attacked the beast, stabbing it again and again until it lay dead. Consumed with the same anger, her fellow villagers joined her, hurling stones and trash and attacking with whatever came to hand until the invaders were forced to retreat. The village lay in a deathly quiet for two weeks- until news came that dozens of servants of the sorcerers, not just mutants but armored warriors, were descending to make an example of those who practiced defiance. There was nothing to do but flee. As nomads, living off of whatever they could scrape from the barren land, harried by sorcerous beasts, the villagers survived in hiding. As they went, they armed themselves with weapons from their fallen foes, striking back under Rebecca's leadership against individuals or small groups, repaying the sorcerers blood for blood. When the other villages heard of their continuing defiance, some among them joined Rebecca's band, while others sent food and supplies in secret for the fight against the hated masters. Soon, Rebecca's band had grown to number in the hundreds, menacing the sorcerer's servants whenever they came down off the mountain. In response, the lords of the peak sent down their full strength, intending to punish the full region for daring to rise against the faithful of the Dark Gods. The might of the enemy's army was more than Rebecca's band could face in the open field, but desperation and cunning gave her a plan. Throughout the hills and ravines of that land, her warriors hid and struck at the enemy army as they passed. Where they could, they rolled boulders down on the heads of the enemy, crushing them or blocking their paths. They struck by night, poisoning food supplies, murdering pickets and setting fires in the brush and never, never coming to open battle. While this happened the sorcerers rampaged blindly, driving villagers who had remained neutral out of their homes- and into Rebecca's arms. Others, hearing what happened, openly supported her lest the sorcerers should pillage their homes as well. By this her army grew strong and well supplied, while theirs dwindled and starved. When she finally met them in battle, it was a rout- her soldiers drove both abomination and man before them, slaughtering both those who stood before them and those who ran. With the army of the Dark Gods destroyed, all that remained to her was to overthrow the sorcerers themselves and cast down their fastness. Up the long mountain roads her army marched, fighting the daemons summoned against them until at last they came to the fortress itself. They had no siege, and they certainly had no sorcerers, but some among her troops knew how to work rock and dig stone, and it was not long before a breach was created. The end was almost an anticlimax. Rebecca's forces slaughtered the sorcerers and their apprentices, tore down their workshops, gave a merciful end to their experiments, and made obeisance before the Gate itself. But the Dark Gods never forget, and never forgive, and soon she would find herself assailed again. What Rebecca had faced to date, deeply personal though it might have felt, was akin to an autoimmune response- an angry red inflammation of the wound. On the scale of gods and empires, it meant almost nothing. Now that she had succeeded in toppling servants of any real importance, though, she had drawn malevolent attention. From all throughout the Day's End Mountains, the various lords of the high peaks rallied their hosts to war, joined by a legion of daemons sent from the Realms of Chaos to make an example. Taken together, the armies of Chaos massively outnumbered and out-classed Rebecca's troops. The battle against the sorcerers had been an uphill fight. This would be a slaughter, both for her partisans and for everyone living in the region. She knew of only one solution- to enter the Gate, descend into the Tomb of Eternal Life, and seek the aid of the spirits there. There were funerary rites, known to the people of that land but never to the foreign followers of the Dark Gods, that Rebecca now underwent, preparing her soul for the passage. She cut her hair and donned a funeral shroud, darkened her eyes with ashes, stripped off her shoes and bid a tearful goodby to Abraham. Then she went before the Gate, alone. To the amazement of everyone watching, it swung open, revealing the beginning of the Long Stair inside. Rebecca placed one foot in, then the other, then started down- but a few steps in, she looked back. The outside world was darkened, as though viewed through a veil of fog, and her heart clenched as she realized that this meant that she could never return to walk among the living. Steeling herself, she continued downwards. For a day and a night she walked without ceasing through gloomy, damp caverns, her way lit only by a candle, alone except for the drip of water and the echo of her footsteps. Finally, even as her legs screamed out for rest, she reached the bottom of the Long Stairs- only to be greeted by the sounds of battle. To her amazement and horror, she saw that the armies of demons she meant to fight were already here, waging war against the souls of the dead. Already a quarter of the Tomb had fallen and been corrupted by the minions of the Dark Gods, and even now the ancestral spirits of warrior kings led their hosts in desperate battles to hold back the defiling tide just a little longer. The spirits of the dead were perplexed by Rebecca's presence, seeing through her shroud to the mortal life that still flared within. She begged leave to plead her case before them, though, and after some consultation she was allowed to appear before the Synod of Fifteen, the council of the greatest souls in the Tomb. Here, she laid out the dangers facing her people, the crushing burden of Chaos, the slaughter that awaited them if no help came, the defiance they had cast in the teeth of the Dark Gods. To this, she added what she had learned from the ruins of the sorcerer's tombs- that a plot was afoot among the disciples of Tzeentch, to take the souls that fell in battle in the Tomb and weave them together into a monstrosity, an ur-eidolon of a million trapped spirits capable of shaking the walls of Heaven themselves. The Synod was divided. Half were for marching out into the realms of the living and facing the enemy in battle, while half feared abandoning their homes and suspected a trick by the Dark Gods to undermine their defense. Only the ruler of them all, the ancient king Xereus, remained pensive. He said that since the Synod clearly could not come to a decision, perhaps it was time to present the choice to the entire population of the Tomb to see what their verdict would be. This proved to spark no less controversy, however. Some of the spirits took up arms and were ready to follow Rebecca up the Long Stairs and to battle, while others were ready to kill her as an agent of the Enemy then and there. Most, however, wavered somewhere in between, afraid of leaving their homes but equally afraid of remaining to be fodder. Finally, a single voice broke the tumult. To Rebecca's surprise and grief, she saw Abraham standing before the masses. When he realized that he would be forever parted from his love, he said, he had thrown himself from a cliff- but now he would speak of her character, and in her defense. He told of how she had been the first to take up arms in defense of his people, how she had rallied them to her banner with her strength of will and courage, how she had cleverly lead the armies of Chaos to their doom, and how she now was prepared to sacrifice her own life to defend those around her. At this, others in the audience who had died since the beginning of the tide of Chaos joined in, adding their voices to the call for action to defend the people of the mountains. Finally, the ancient guardians of the gate came forwards. They had long stood their watch to make sure that the worlds of life and death remained separate- but now that a greater threat had arisen, that time had passed. It was time for the living and the dead to be rejoined- time to pierce the veil at last. At this, Xereus nodded. He would lend his support to the march on the surface, and together the living and the dead would liberate the world above from the grips of Chaos. But this, he said, would only happen on one condition- that Rebecca, who had lead the armies above, would shed her mortality and join the ranks of those below. With the love of her life dead, and her people facing destruction, the choice was not difficult. She assented, and at a stroke of his sword her living spirit was snuffed out. ------ Two days later, as the armies of the lords of Chaos stood poised to sweep over the region and slaughter its people, they were met with an army of spirits and an army of men, fighting in ranks together. The shattering defeat of the fell horde gave new heart to all who heard of it, and many in the lands around the Day's End mountains rose up against their once-invincible masters. Wherever these rebels arose, they were quickly joined by ghostly and living soldiers, fighting with fury and guile borne of decades or centuries of experience. It took years, but the whole of the mountains were freed, and remained free in their mountaintop fastnesses even against the legions that the Dark Gods sent to cast them down. But irony of ironies, Rebecca was not at their head, nor even in their ranks. When she had fallen beneath Xereus' blade, her soul had been snatched up by Sigmar, to join the ranks of his armies. Reforged, she was indignant, and then moody, prone to keep her own counsel and withdraw from the company of others, appearing alive only when she faced down the minions of the Dark Gods where she was terror itself. In his wisdom, Sigmar saw only one place to put her- the ranks of the Death Watch, full of misfits and outcasts and juggernauts like her. In Steelios, she found a companion that could ease her pain- someone who understood her anger at the gods, and abided by her refusal to swear allegiance to any. Now, she fights determinedly at his side against multitudes of foes across the Realms- but her mind wanders to Shyish, and the mountains of the Day's End, and the promise she made to King Xereus long before... ------ The storytellers call Rebecca the Beloved of Eternity, the Dusk Raider, the Denied, the Guardian of Death, the Nineteenth.
  20. Frederick Holtz grew up in the shadow of Sigmar himself. The son of a nameless courtesan in the pleasure-houses of Azyr, he was raised as a ward of the State in the prestigious Starhammer Academy, not far from the high palaces of Azyrheim. Starhammer was where the elite future soldiers of the God-King were raised, and in the course of his upbringing Holtz had the chance to see Sigmar three times when the deity came to speak to the students about their duties as the leaders of tomorrow's wars. He passed all his tests with flying colors, and seemed poised to take a place as a petty officer in the school's own military regiment, the Starhammer Guard- at the last moment, though, his request was refused, and he returned to the general pool of graduates. Holtz spent a night alternating between fear and confusion, unable to understand why he had been passed over in favor of lesser students and wondering what his future might be now that his constant goal had been taken away. The next morning, a man came to see him. Missing an eye and three fingers, scarred and limping, he was clearly a veteran of hundreds of encounters. He introduced himself to Holtz as Templar-Captain Gregory MacDonald. He was the one who had pulled strings to have Holtz denied entry to the Guard, he explained. Though prestigious, the Starhammers were no place for a man of Holtz's talent and acuity. Instead, MacDonald offered Holtz a place in his retinue. Over the next decade, Holtz would earn his rank as a full Templar fighting enemies all across the Mortal Realms, rooting out corruption and heresy behind the lines and crushing monsters that threatened Sigmar's nascent domain. When MacDonald retired, Holtz took up the mantle of Templar-Captain in his stead, and after his destruction of the Ghoul-Triarchs of Ghyran and their cult received a promotion- from Azyrheim itself- elevating him to the rank of Templar-Marshal. In this capacity, Holtz had a regiment of his own to command, and it amused him as he began to poach graduates of his old academy from the Starhammers to fill his own ranks. Then, the Steelglass crusade was called in Chamon against a fragment of the clockwork legions of ancient Cypria. Suspecting Chaos corruption among the metal men, Holtz attached his regiment to the crusade, seeking to destroy whatever taint existed among the ruins. It was some of the hardest fighting that the Templar-Marshal had ever encountered. The enemy seemed to have planned for their every move, every stratagem, and his soldiers were often thrown into combats that would tax ten times their number. Holtz was unsurprised when evidence of Tzeentchi corruption was found among the clock-men and in the ruins of the great libraries they fought among, though he was perplexed as to why it was never his men who did the finding. As the Crusade reached its apogee, it approached one of the last great intact libraries of the ancient Cyprians. Its leadership called for the total destruction of the library to ensure the removal of all taint from the region. The night before the offensive was to begin, however, Holtz had a dream of a great beast buried under the library, thrashing against its chains. Waking suddenly, he was gripped by a horrible suspicion. His tomes confirmed that Cypria had waged long wars against Tzeentch at the time of the fall of the realms, serving as one of the Changer's most stalwart foes. Why, then, would there be evidence of taint among their defeated enemies? Rousing his men, he sent a messenger to the crusader lords asking them to delay their attack until he had had a chance to discern the library's true nature. A reconnaissance in force showed that much of the interior of the library was covered in warding runes, seals against the demonic. Holtz's pulse quickened as he sensed the malevolent presence lurking under its floor. The library was a prison for a powerful daemon, and if it was destroyed... At that moment shells from the crusade's artillery began to fall among the regiment. The attack had begun. Almost from the moment they left that place, Holtz's troops found themselves under attack- not by the Cyprian legions, but by the crusade's own forces. Advancing to the trenchline surrounding the library-mountain, Holtz found that his soldiers had been declared traitors by the crusade's leadership and ordered to be killed on sight. With the power of his oration and his reputation, Holtz convinced the gunners at the front lines to stand down and allow his men to pass. The artillery park was more difficult. It was commanded by the Bluefeathers, the personal regiment of General Kraft of the crusader lords. Here, the Templars had to fight doggedly, disabling the artillery pieces one by one. When he captured the Bluefeather commander, General Kraft's son-in-law, Holtz knew the truth. Heinrich Kraft bore the secret mark of Tzeentch on him. Steeling himself, Holtz and his soldiers attacked towards crusade headquarters. At first, the Templars faced human soldiers of the generals and lords' personal guards- but as they pressed closer to the command chamber, these became twisted by the power of Chaos, and their attacks sorcerous and strange. The command tent itself held the final horror- every general of the Crusade, their eyes lit by a strange blue glow, hands crackling with arcane lightning. At their head was General Kraft, whose visage had begun to twist into that of a daemon. He laughed when he saw Holtz. The Templar-General had failed, he said, and now he would erase one of the legacies of ancient Cypria and deal a blow to the plans of Sigmar the Deceiver. On the contrary, Holtz replied. He had stymied Kraft's aims. The library could not be destroyed now that the guns and soldiers of the army no longer obeyed the General, and Kraft and all of his conspirators would die. At this, his men opened fire, tearing the General and his fellows to shreds with a hail of gunshot- but Kraft alone did not fall. Holtz misunderstood Tzeentch's aim, he said. True, the daemon might stay imprisoned, but its clockwork wardens were destroyed... and so were Holtz and his regiment. At this, the tent and its surroundings exploded in blue fire, consuming Holtz and most of his soldiers. In the aftermath, the Steelglass crusade came to a halt, as the survivors limped back to friendly bases and regrouped, bereft of leadership. Still, Holtz had done a great service for the forces of Order, preventing the release of a daemon-prince and the opening of a portal to the Realm of Chaos, and exposing the treachery of high-ranking officers in the armies of Azyrheim. For this, he saw Sigmar again, as he was reforged into an incarnate vessel of the God-King's mighty will and released into the world again to do battle in His name. Indeed, Sigmar had a special assignment for him- Holtz would join the Death Watch as an unflinching agent of the God-King, and there keep watch over his fellows even as he was responsible for rooting out evil in the Mortal Realms. Surprisingly, Lord Celestant Steelios did not object to this- indeed, he's said to have laughed for hours when he heard about who was being assigned to his command. It has been almost a decade since that day, and Holtz continues his watch- ever ready, ever vigilant, ever eager in his war against the enemies of Sigmar. ------ The storytellers call Brother Holtz the Black Templar, Sigmar's Fire, the Holy Warrior, the Watchful, the Eyes of Azyr, the Sixteenth.
  21. This follows almost immediately on the heels of Brother Teodoric, below. Reading that one first will help to illuminate what is happening here. ------ Emperor Teodoric's death did not mean the end of Austrasia per se, but it did mark the end of his line of warrior-kings. With the marauding soldiers of the Dark Gods sweeping towards the capital of Aix-la-Donau, his queen had a set of difficult decisions to make. There were not enough soldiers in all the realm to man the ramparts of the capital, and the very splendor and beauty of the city made it a tempting prize for the greedy soldiers. To stay would likely mean to die. To flee would mean that they were well and truly broken. She fled all the same. In the years to come she would travel from castle to castle throughout the realm, fostering her children with various lords to strengthen their power and the family's chances of surviving now that their line was dispersed. The capital was sacked and burned to the ground, but the warriors of the Dark Gods were but men. Having taken their plunder, the horde largely dispersed, becoming more manageable bands of marauders. Austrasia held, but with Callisto aging and no clear leader among her children the realm faced another problem- succession. Fortunately, there was an answer in the Lex Teodoric, the corpus of law compiled by the old Emperor before his death. He had proclaimed that in the absence of a clear heir the counts would vote upon the next holder of the Iron Crown. Thus was civil war averted and a new ruler chosen to lead the continuing fight against Austrasia's great enemy. Decades passed, and through good Emperors and bad the realm carried on, though it lost ground to the marauders with each passing year. Almost two hundred years after Teodoric's death, Austrasia was only a fraction of it once had been, a small island of flickering light in a sea of darkness. In the wake of the death of the old Empress there was to be a new election to decide on her successor- but almost from the beginning there was only one true winner. His name was Clovis, called Clovis the Wise, and he traveled from castle to castle speaking of a resurgence of power and a rebirth for the old kingdom. Many among the great and the powerful flocked to his banner, and many who might have doubted him were cowed. His appointment to the Throne was near-unanimous, and he was given the Iron Crown to great acclaim and adulation. That night there was a feast. Almost all the lords and ladies of Austrasia attended to do homage to their new leader and to hear his plans for the future. All watched with rapt attention as he rose, pledging himself to bring them all glory, and oversee a changing of ways. As these last words left his lips, a hush fell across the room, and then the screams began as the flesh of the nobles and their retinues twisted and deformed. Some tried to escape, and were cut down by flickering horrors manifesting from the walls. Others saw what had happened and moved to attack the new Emperor- but with a wave of his hand and a burst of foul sorcery, these became nothing but mindless Spawn. Still others did him homage twice, and rose as his lieutenants and the minions of Tzeentch, the Silver Tyrant, the Feathered Serpent. That night Austrasia became the nucleus of a new Empire- one of Chaos and change, founded on betrayal. ------ Callie came of age cleaving to and cloven from her heritage. The ****** daughter of a nobleman, she grew up subsisting off of what she could forage out of his woods. Her mother had died when she was young, and it was some time before she learned enough to understand the significance of the one possession she'd been left- a bow, carved with the shape of a dragon at both ends and with runes forged into its surface. By the time she was seventeen years of age, she was a wild beauty, athletic and cunning and wise in the ways of the woods. She idolized her father, and dreamed one day of coming into his household. She heard the news of the election of a new Emperor who promised to restore Austrasia to its former greatness, and wondered what this would mean for him- what it would mean for her. She watched her father leave to the Election feast with bated breath, apprehensive and excited about the future and perhaps her chance of claiming a place in his armies and his court during the great offensive against Chaos. When he did not return for a week, she was curious. When he did not return for two, she was afraid. But when a man in skin-forged armor, glowing with painful green light returned, claiming to be him ascended, she was shocked and furious. She knew that Chaos was the great enemy, to whom no quarter could be given and no parley asked. To be betrayed like this... that night, after her tears of frustration had faded, she set out, scaling the walls of his keep in darkness. She found him in his study, alone, looking through ancient texts of malefic magic. He did not look up when she entered through the window, but only spoke. "I was expecting you, daughter. You have many questions. I will answer them for you... but shed your weapon. Do not be afraid. Let me love you." In that moment a great part of her wanted to kneel to him, to accept the love she had always been denied- but then her eyes were opened, and she saw the betrayer he had always been. Drawing her bow, the runes grew warm to the touch and the dragons' eyes glowed- and when she loosed the arrow it screamed its vengeance aloud. Her father fell, broken, and she realized a very great thing about herself and her weapon. The runes read "Callisto", and she had always thought that this meant herself- but now she realized it was the name of the great warrior queen, unmatched in archery. And if she could wield the bow as well... the blood of Iosephus Bogomil must flow through her veins. If what she feared was true, she was last of his line, his vengeance against his fallen descendants. Callie fled, but not far. Clad in deep forest greens, she searched out each of the traitors who had survived Clovis' remaking of the Empire, hunting the fallen implacably- a dark angel of vengeance. No succor would they receive from the hands of their kinswoman, no terms would she offer or accept. Striking seemingly from nowhere, she cut and cut across Austrasia, destroying what she would and leaving the rest for the crows. In the end only one enemy remained- the arch-traitor Clovis himself, the architect of betrayal, now crackling with the power of the Changer of Ways. Here was a foe that far outranked her in power, against which she had no chance of victory, let alone survival- and yet to accede to his rule would be the greater dishonor. On the eve of the final battle she clad herself in a pale bone funerary shroud, transforming into a winged avatar of death. Within the brightly lit and shifting patterns of Clovis' maze-like palace, this would be her best disguise. She slipped among the ruins of Teodoric's old capital, treading lightly and moving like a shadow, like a ghost on the wind. No mortal eye could have tracked her, and no mortal ear heard her approach. Yet for all of this when she entered the sorcerer's throne room she was trapped- ensnared by a spell she could neither have anticipated nor evaded. Bowing like a courtier, Clovis welcomed her into his presence. He hailed her resourcefulness and her cunning, proclaiming her a worthy heir to Callisto just as he was a worthy heir to Teodoric before him. She need only bend her knee to the Changer and Clovis would make her his bride, to rule by his side forever. Otherwise, she would die- and he would become the last bearer of the blood of Bogomil, just as he had long planned. It was her decision which fate would come to pass. But even as these words left his lips, he felt his sorcerous power suddenly falter- and what emerged from his arcane cage was not the woman he had entrapped, but a shining wraith. Her eyes blazed with malice, and the air around her was filled with a heavy presence, even as a multitude of voices screamed for vengeance and justice against Teodoric's traitor heir. When she spoke, her mortal voice was doubled and trebled by an undying chorus, and he was sorely afraid. "You are no worthy heir of Teodoric, Clovis Kinslayer. I who knew him better than any know that he would never have bent the knee to the Bringers of Ruin as you have, and he is ashamed that you bear his blood. Let our line be broken. Let the name of Bogomil and the name of Austrasia and the name of Clovis be blotted from the record of the world, now and forever to come-- so say I, Callisto Ironflight, the Undefeated, the Seeking Shaft of God!" At that she walked towards him, and where his sorcery met her spirit he had to give way, until she stood before him in her splendor untouched. "Let this empire and this people meet their end at last- and let our names be erased forever." At once her light leapt to envelop them both, and then the entire palace besides- and when it cleared away nothing remained in its wake but a shattered crown of iron. The immortal spirits of the Bogomils then returned to Nagash's realm, but Sigmar cradled her bruised soul in his mighty hands. As a father, he drew her up to Azyr, and there she rests and there she will serve beside him forever. ------ Sister Callie is called the Dark Angel, the Deathwing, the Voice of the Host, Heir to Callisto, Last of the Bogomils, the Seeking Shaft of God, the Iron Flight, the Eighth, the Faithful Daughter, the Blood of Queens.
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