Daughters of Khaine – Warscrolls

It is considered a high honour among Khainite aelves to be selected for the Slith‑onóir. In this gory ritual, their flesh is pierced by the fangs of the hissing serpents that crown the Shadow Queen’s skull. This results in the agonising transformation of the chosen into monstrous beings blessed with a portion of Morathi’s strength and magic – the Bloodwrack Medusae. Bloodwrack Medusae wield sorcerous energies, and their eyes blaze with the power of death. Any who meet a Medusa’s gaze find their body exsanguinated in a welter of gore. Neither does the sorceress shy away from combat; wielding the razor-sharp gauntlet known as a whisperclaw in concert with a Bloodwrack spear, the Medusa can cut a swathe through any foes foolish enough to approach her. Those selected for the Slith-onóir might be the rising champions of their sect, but some are chosen because they are openly contentious when it comes to Morathi- Khaine’s strictures or her claims of a divine mandate. Regardless, after the ritual, Bloodwrack Medusae become the goddess’s most faithful and loyal servants. Naturally resonant with arcane power, they eagerly absorb every scrap of magical knowledge that she grants them, including all manner of malicious spells and curses.

The High Priestesses known as Hag Queens are the guardians of Khaine’s mysteries and the leaders of their temple’s rites. Through Morathi’s teachings, the Hag Queens learn secret rituals, words of power and divine incantations that allow Khaine’s energies to flow like blood from a severed artery. It is the Hag Queens who are responsible for concocting the potion that drives their fellow Khainites into a rapturous battle-rage. Known as witchbrew, this sacred concoction is derived from the blood of Slaughter Queens slain in the service of Khaine. Resonant with the fierce exultation that the deceased experienced in their final moments, this holy liquid is refined and blended through a sorcerous process known only to the High Priestesses. The resulting broth has the viscous consistency of clotting blood, and a single draught heightens the senses to supernatural levels, imbuing the drinker with an uncontrollable bloodlust and robbing them of any sense of self preservation. Khainites under the influence of witchbrew will ignore even the most horrific wounds as they carve their foes apart. Hag Queens, of course, do not simply observe their workings from afar; when their sacred duties have been performed, they join the killing as mercilessly as any of their kin.

Those aelves that become High Gladiatrixes are not merely promoted but instead undergo a bloody apotheosis within the gladiatorial arena. They are marked by their ability to overcome ever more perilous contests of arms – and with brutal, exhilarating flair. At the beginning of a night’s death-games, they may fight a single snarling Frost Sabre, but such will soon be followed by a mob of captive orruks and a duo of rampaging Stegadons. They are their deity’s will made manifest, incarnated in each dazzling display of slaughter. Though High Gladiatrixes hold no formal position amongst the war covens, few of Morathi’s generals would deny their aid. They are one woman armies, wielding serpentine whips and blades to eviscerate their foes with a contemptuous flick of the wrist. Bands of Witch Aelves and Sisters of Slaughter flock to a High Gladiatrix’s presence, fighting with such fervour that it is said they would follow their idols into the Realm of Chaos itself. The crimson blessings that radiate from the High Gladiatrix intensify with each successive act of carnage until the battlefield is awash with gore.

Descending upon pinions of pure darkness, Krethusa is a herald of imminent doom. By peering into the spilt blood and scorched bones of her foes, Krethusa can read the tides of battle. She darts and dives alongside the bubbling Cauldrons of Blood, weaving prophecies and chanting dark prayers. Krethusa’s supernatural foresight and gift of flight are said to come not from Morathi-Khaine but from a source far darker and more ancient: Morai-Heg, an aelven deity of death and fate that perished in a time long forgotten at the hands of Slaanesh. Upon the advent of Morathi’s ascension, a shard of Morai-Heg’s divinity escaped from the Dark Prince’s gullet to pierce through Krethusa’s very soul, causing ink-black feathers to erupt from her back. Though she is a serious threat to Morathi’s power, the goddess has found herself forced to keep her alive; Krethusa has the trust of Sigmar’s people, to say nothing of a growing retinue of loyal followers who now view Morathi with doubt and suspicion. By plucking a feather from her dark wings, Krethusa calls upon Morai-Heg’s power to decimate her foes. Each sanctified pinion can summon a flesh-eating murder of crows to tear apart any enemy foolish enough to defy her.

The Ironscales are Morathi-Khaine’s trusted inner coven and, as far as the lower-ranking Khainites are concerned, speak with the voice of the goddess. So intense is their hatred of Chaos and desire for revenge that these Scáthborn can be counted upon to lay down their lives for but a chance at the vengeance they crave. They are privy to truths concealed from most and are granted the honour of contributing to Morathi’s councils of war, for even the goddess recognises their innate talent in military matters. Ironscales are responsible for the protection of Morathi-Khaine and one of their number serves as the commander of her elite Vyperic Guard. The souls of the Ironscales have been threaded with arcane wards that allow them to resist magical energies, allowing them to hunt down ancient artefacts and sites of eldritch power for their master. Wielding serpent-crested staves known as keldrisaíth, they loose bolts of shadowy energy into the foe and strike down their enemies with lightning-fast blows. When their mistress is threatened, the coiling serpents atop these weapons lunge forwards to bury their fangs deep into an enemy’s chest.

Cunning diplomat, fearsome warrior, speaker to daemons and ascended god: Morathi is all these things and more. Few beings in existence can claim a fraction of her arcane skill – with little more than a flick of her hand, Morathi is able to summon formless horrors from the umbral realm to savage her foes or to blast them with bolts of icy darkness. Morathi most often presents herself as a stunningly beautiful aelf, framed by bladed wings of shadow-metal. In this guise, she goes by the name Morathi- Khaine, purporting to be the second coming of the god of war and murder. Skilled in both slaughter and magic, she is not averse to more direct methods of attack – her ability to inspire a zealous frenzy in her followers is as lethal a weapon as her ensorcelled spear, the infamous Heartrender. Although she wields his Iron Heart, Morathi carries none of Khaine’s divine essence in her own veins. If her Khainite masses were to discover her duplicity, they would surely seek the destruction of their usurper goddess. Yet such is Morathi’s skill at manipulation, coupled with her ruthlessness in silencing dissenters, that only those with a death wish would dare challenge her openly.

Slaughter Queens are the martial leaders of the war covens, chosen for their skilled bladework and their fanaticism for dealing death. For a Slaughter Queen, the battlefield is her temple, and the jetting blood of an opened throat is her sacred offering to almighty Khaine. They fight with a sword in each hand, weaving a pattern of red ruination. The Blade of Khaine – blessed with the furore of war – strikes with blurring speed, while the Deathsword is imbued with Morathi’s scorn, its enchanted edge slicing gaping clefts in flesh and armour with even the slightest stroke. A Slaughter Queen wears little in the way of armour, instead relying upon feints, deft dodges and flawless acrobatics to avoid enemy blows. No Khainite can help but be inspired by the unrestrained butchery enacted by a Slaughter Queen. Where these priestesses roam, the land is soon watered with the blood of the freshly slain. Though they prefer bladework to ministry, Slaughter Queens are still adept at channelling the hot rage of Khaine into devastating battle prayers. All learn the killing words of power – appellations of Khaine that, when shouted at the correct pitch, can smite an enemy or even blunt an incoming spell.

The realms at large believe the Shadow Queen to be a monstrous ally of Morathi- Khaine summoned from the darkest corners of the Shadowlands, yet the truth is far stranger. When Morathi ascended to godhood, she was cleaved in two by a vengeful soul she was consuming for power. Her form was split into the regal sorceress Morathi-Khaine and the monstrous Shadow Queen. This serpentine war form is framed by enormous bat-like wings and a mane of venomous snakes. She can pulverise stone walls with her lashing coils, whilst those who meet her dreadful gaze find their blood erupting from their veins. The Shadow Queen wields an oversized version of her legendary weapon, Heartrender, that befits her formidable stature. Morathi-Khaine and the Shadow Queen are one being joined by a single soul. Together they form a terrifying union of martial and arcane might capable of obliterating entire armies. Nevertheless, the goddess faces a constant battle to balance the clashing aspects of her psyche. In times of great strife, the appeal of the Shadow Queen’s straightforward, murderous hatred becomes very difficult to deny, and the composed power of Morathi-Khaine wavers. The ragged wound in Morathi’s godly soul may never truly heal, and she wonders if the final cost of her ascension is yet to be revealed.

Honoured are the Khainites chosen to be ritualistically transformed into a Bloodwrack Medusa. These writhing sorceresses have an affinity for the arcane and their eyes blaze with the power of death. Any who meet a Medusa’s gaze find their body exsanguinated in a welter of gore. Neither does this servant of Morathi shy away from combat; wielding the razor-sharp gauntlet known as a whisperclaw in concert with a Bloodwrack spear, the Medusa can cut a swathe through any foes foolish enough to approach her. Some Bloodwrack Medusae are borne into battle atop mobile shrines. Propelled by unseen magics, the bladed Bloodwrack Shrine grinds forward to crash into the enemy battleline. Two shrineguards armed with long goadstaves strike out, while the writhing Medusa uses her weapons and deadly gaze to join the slaughter. As formidable as the shrine is in close combat, it has another, more sinister purpose. A strange mirror known as a scáthmre stands at the shrine’s centre, reflecting not just the Bloodwrack Medusa’s deadly gaze but also an agonising aura, a shadowy projection of the scathing hatred harboured by the monstrous serpentine creature. Such is the power of this dark emanation that it causes nearby foes to perish in the throes of unbearable torment.

For a battle worthy of their finest ritual offerings, the war covens of the Daughters of Khaine bring forth the greatest of their religion’s icons – the Cauldrons of Blood. Mounted on iron-shod wheels, these arcane devices surge forward, propelled solely by the incantations of their riders, as if the machine itself was lured onwards by the promise of carnage. Each is connected to Morathi’s own cauldron, which drains a portion of each sacrifice poured inside. When a Hag Queen accompanies the altar, she brings the blood within the iron vat to a furious boil until it gives off billowing clouds of crimson steam. This offers strange protections, and Khainites nearby find themselves able to shrug off wounds or dodge blows more easily. Those fortunate enough to be offered a draught of the cauldron’s brew find themselves plunged into an ecstasy of violence, their martial prowess magnified by the Lord of Murder. Brought to life by blood rituals, the iron statue of Khaine upon the shrine roars its anger in torrents of molten metal blood or swings its massive sword to hack down those who dare close with the cauldron.

Slaughter Queens are the martial leaders of the war covens, chosen for their skilled bladework and their fanaticism for dealing death. For a Slaughter Queen, the battlefield is her temple, and the jetting blood of an opened throat is her sacred offering to almighty Khaine. They fight with a sword in each hand, weaving a pattern of red ruination. For a battle worthy of their finest ritual offerings, the war covens of the Daughters of Khaine bring forth the greatest of their religion’s icons – the Cauldrons of Blood. Mounted on iron-shod wheels, these arcane devices surge forward, propelled solely by the incantations of their riders, as if the machine itself was lured onwards by the promise of carnage. Each is connected to Morathi’s own cauldron, which drains a portion of each sacrifice poured inside. Slaughter Queens who have spilt rivers of blood in the name of their goddess are granted the honour of riding one to battle, and their aggressive strategy sees them wield it more like a close-combat war machine. Brought to life by blood rituals, the iron statue of Khaine upon the shrine roars its anger in torrents of molten metal blood or swings its massive sword to hack down those who dare close with the cauldron.

The Doomfire Warlocks are the light cavalry of the war covens. They harass foes with blasts of arcane flame and volleys of black-fletched bolts, harrying the enemy’s flanks and slaying unprotected targets. As the main Khainite formations are engaged, these swift riders charge in, scimitars drawn, to help overwhelm and finish off their distracted victims. Up close, Doomfire Warlocks are gaunt and pallid, their black eyes full of spite. Emblazoned upon their brows are hateful runes that cause them great pain but are also vital in keeping them alive. There are few male aelves in the cities of the Daughters of Khaine – fewer still within the war covens. This is by nefarious design. Only the weakest souls retrieved from Slaanesh are used to create male aelves, and all are worked hard, fed poorly and drained of blood in daily rituals. Doomfire Warlocks are at least given a measure of false autonomy, allowing them to ride to battle and wield dark arcane power. However, their dhaimkhyr – the sacred rune that grants Warlocks their magic – keeps them bound to Morathi’s will, and she will also use this connection to siphon off portions of their soul to keep them withered and subservient.

Blood Sisters are powerful warriors employed either as bodyguards for High Priestesses or Bloodwrack Medusae, or as a potent vanguard for the war covens. They are renowned for the particular cruelty and spite they display upon the battlefield, for they enjoy agonising their victims for prolonged periods before the killing stroke comes. Each Blood Sister is equipped with a heartshard glaive – a heavy polearm ideal for driving through armour and ribs to impale an enemy’s heart. Their kragath war-masks are crafted to recall the god of murder’s own terrible visage. Each kragath is also layered with illusory enchantments that allow the wearer to take the form of a normal aelf, should the occasion require it. Blood Sisters can channel the blackness of their tainted souls into a strike known as the scáth touch. The lightest contact from such a blow can transform the victim into an unmoving crystal statue that is still horrifically conscious. The brood nests of the Melusai are lined with these living monuments. As sensualists, the Blood Sisters consider an eternity of sensory deprivation the worst of all possible fates, hence their delight in inflicting it upon others. For a Blood Sister, the ultimate cruelty is to thrust her glaive quickly enough to slice out a foe’s beating heart while transmuting them to still-living crystal.

The Blood Stalkers are Morathi-Khaine’s elite archers, a venomous guard who rain death from afar. Each bears a heartseeker bow that fires arrows blessed by Hag Queens and imbued with guiding enchantments. With uncanny accuracy, these missiles streak across the battlefield to pierce their targets’ hearts. In close combat, Blood Stalkers wield scianlar, long daggers that absorb the energies released when the bearer extracts vital organs from their victims. In battle, Melusai communicate via a series of graceful gestures and empathic signals that no enemy can decipher. This allows Blood Stalkers to hunt their prey silently before launching a sudden and deadly ambush. The first their prey knows of the danger is when barbed missiles begin to rain down upon them. The leader of a Blood Stalker pack is known as a Krone. Many employ the winged serpents known as Blood Wyrms to track their quarry. Roughly the size of a hunting hawk, they can sniff out a single drop of blood from a hundred leagues.

Whenever Morathi-Khaine desires a target discreetly slain, she sends forth her hand-picked agents – the Khainite Shadowstalkers. Each is branded with the mircath, or shademark, woven from Ulguan sorcery that grants supernatural abilities yet leashes the bearer’s soul to Morathi’s service. Able to leap from shadow to shadow and weave tools of murder from darkness, no quarry is safe. Shadowstalkers can transport themselves across vast distances by slipping through the Umbral Web, an intricate pattern of shadowy realmgates that connect the Eight Realms. Some forge pacts with shadow daemons, so thoroughly mingling their blood with these monsters that, if cut, they bleed pure darkness. Using foul sorceries, they can even command a victim’s shadow into murderous animation. Though their talents are unrivalled, all Shadowstalkers are condemned to a terrible fate: the Umbral Web gradually erodes their soul until they transform into a living shadow. Morathi conceals this horrifying truth from those upon whom she bestows the mircath. Often, these unfortunates are those whom the goddess has marked out as potential dissidents. As Shadowstalkers, they can at least serve her well before they meet their end.

The Khinerai Heartrenders sweep out of the skies, dark streaks that cut swiftly through low clouds. With streams of vapour still clinging to their bodies, they use their momentum to launch cruelly barbed javelins with great force. These missiles travel with such velocity that they can skewer both a mounted warrior and their steed and still embed themselves deep into the ground. The Heartrenders do not stop to watch the gory aftermath of their arrival. Always do they seek new prey, their powerful wings carrying them to another part of the battlefield in moments, javelins materialising out of the mists into their hands. Should a tempting enough target present itself, the Heartrenders will forego their missile assault and dive straight into combat – their spiked shortspears are perfectly weighted for hand-to-hand fighting, and they can swiftly retreat should the enemy bring overpowering numbers. Heartrenders conceal their faces behind gilded masks, never revealing their true appearance even to their fellow Khainites. Some say that their faces are horrifically deformed and avian, possessing none of the statuesque beauty that the aelves prize. Perhaps this might account for their bloodthirsty nature and the cruel delight with which they pursue and slaughter retreating foes.

The Khinerai known as Lifetakers are swift-attack specialists and elite ambushers who serve to deliver aerial sneak attacks that blindside the enemy from above. Tucking their wings close, they plummet downwards at high speed. At the last moment, they spread their leathery pinions, halting their descent as they swing their sickleblades with maximum force to scythe down foes. Forged from priceless shadow-metal, these weapons are designed to slice open throats and remove heads with a single blow. Even as nearby enemies rally to pin the Khinerai Lifetakers in combat, the Khainites rise above the melee in a flurry of beating wings, looking for the next vulnerable targets to strike. Somewhat less frenzied in their ferocity than their Heartrender kin, Lifetakers possess an uncanny ability to read the battlefield. They respond with fearsome speed to enemy breakthroughs or apparent weaknesses in the enemy line, striking home in a spray of viscera.

To the Sisters of Slaughter, combat is everything. Their entire lives are dedicated to fighting – only through mastery of melee can they truly worship Khaine. They spin, leap and pose dramatically as they use whips and blades to slaughter their foes. The Sisters of Slaughter are considered extremist even by other Khainites. Whether absorbed by revenge or overcome with the murderous spirit of Khaine, the warriors take the vow of druharú and don masks of living metal. In an excruciating rite involving boiling blood and spells of bonding, those who would join the sisterhood permanently graft the helms onto their heads, the metal leering ever more cruelly as it scents blood. Barbed whips known as kruiplash are the weapon of choice for the Sisters of Slaughter, and some also wield a bladed buckler that can turn enemy strikes and deliver a lethal counter-blow of its own. When the barbed whips are used in battle, the serpentine coils snap out to sever limbs, lacerate eyes or puncture armour to flay the flesh beneath.

To the Sisters of Slaughter, combat is everything. Their entire lives are dedicated to fighting – only through mastery of melee can they truly worship Khaine. They spin, leap and pose dramatically as they use whips and blades to slaughter their foes. The Sisters of Slaughter are considered extremist even by other Khainites. Whether absorbed by revenge or overcome with the murderous spirit of Khaine, the warriors take the vow of druharú and don masks of living metal. In an excruciating rite involving boiling blood and spells of bonding, those who would join the sisterhood permanently graft the helms onto their heads, the metal leering ever more cruelly as it scents blood. Barbed whips known as kruiplash are the weapon of choice for the Sisters of Slaughter, and some Sisters battle with a short stabbing blade in addition to their lash. When the barbed whips are used in battle, the serpentine coils snap out to sever limbs, lacerate eyes or puncture armour to flay the flesh beneath.

Witch Aelves are devotees that train endlessly in the service of Khaine. They partake in ritual combat every day to hone their martial prowess and sate their craving for violence. However, it is only in battle where they can truly immerse themselves in the holy rapture that bonds their souls with the Murder God. Witch Aelves fight with long sacrificial knives known as sciansá – steel blades each tempered in blood and blessed by a Hag Queen. Its razor sharp edge slices easily through flesh, while some bear a notch that causes profuse bleeding when twisted. Armour is generally considered an impediment to the art of slaughter, though some Witch Aelves favour a light, bladed buckler that can deflect a heavy swordblow – then lash back out to slit the throat of the enemy with a fatal riposte As their battleline devolves from an ordered march into a whirlwind of stabbing and slicing, the Witch Aelves truly lose all self-control. Still beating hearts are ripped from victims’ chests and flesh is daubed with gore-red runes. There are many dark tales of Witch Aelves losing themselves utterly to the slaughter and turning their sacrificial knives upon supposed allies.

Witch Aelves are devotees that train endlessly in the service of Khaine. They partake in ritual combat every day to hone their martial prowess and sate their craving for violence. However, it is only in battle where they can truly immerse themselves in the holy rapture that bonds their souls with the Murder God. Witch Aelves fight with long sacrificial knives known as sciansá – steel blades each tempered in blood and blessed by a Hag Queen. Its razor sharp edge slices easily through flesh, while some bear a notch that causes profuse bleeding when twisted. Armour is generally considered an impediment to the art of slaughter, though Witch Aelves do wear enchanted bracers and pauldrons that can turn aside the rare blow that they fail to evade. As their battleline devolves from an ordered march into a whirlwind of stabbing and slicing, the Witch Aelves truly lose all self-control. Still beating hearts are ripped from victims’ chests and flesh is daubed with gore-red runes. There are many dark tales of Witch Aelves losing themselves utterly to the slaughter and turning their sacrificial knives upon supposed allies.

Gryselle’s Arenai are expert gladiators from the fighting pits of Har Kuron. Each is highly skilled at dispatching numerous enemies in a blur of flashing weapons. The Arenai are each a veteran of countless duels to the death, but they are also peerless performers, their acrobatic leaps and dazzling flourishes making every act of carnage a prayer to their bloody god.

As coldly ambitious as any of Morathi-Khaine’s priestesses, the ruthless Hag Queen Morgwaeth the Bloodied travels the realms in search of precious Khainite treasures. Unflinchingly loyal to their bloodthirsty mistress Morgwaeth and to the cause of Hagg Nar, the warriors of the Blade-coven have spilled the blood of countless enemies in the course of their far-ranging missions.

Wielding weapons forged from pure shadowstone, Slythael is a deadly foe to all who stand in her way. Branded with the mircath shademark, she is possessed of a mastery of umbral magic so potent that she can leap between the shadows, appearing more akin to an insubstantial wraith than any creature of flesh and blood. Accompanying her are Drusylla and Valyssa, two former Witch Aelves whose natural grace has been heightened by Shadowstalker training. The last member of the group is Sylarc Greyblood, who excels in his mastery of umbral magic and the crossbow.

Many of Morathi’s armies will bear a great iron avatar to battle in the image of Khaine, their ancient murder god. When enemy armies are thick and the odds of victory seem overwhelmingly bleak, Morathi’s priestesses will smother the blood of their victims over one of these massive statues, the blood magic evoked by such offerings seizing its limbs and lending it a ferocious animus. The Avatars of Khaine will stride out from their ceremonial cauldrons to fight alongside their worshippers, swinging falchions as tall as ogors. Even those foes that stay wisely out of reach are not safe: each statue can shoot great gouts of blood from its mouth so hot that they can melt flesh from bone. The Avatars of Khaine play a pivotal role in the religion of the murder-cults as conduits of bloody prayer. Any priestess that stands near one finds their connection to Morathi-Khaine strengthened and their chants calling down dark miracles of sizzling ichor. Since Morathi ascended to godhood and claimed to be Khaine reincarnated, some avatars have been recast closer to her image. Not every priestess agrees with such a change – though to give voice to these treasonous thoughts would invite a swift and gory death.

In times of great need, Morathi-Khaine and her mages will tip the venom of the Shadow Queen into their Cauldron of Blood. It is from this toxic slurry that the Bloodwrack Viper emerges. This enormous serpent is formed from boiling blood and contains a sliver of Morathi’s arcane might, and it is animated by a deeply rooted shard of her malice. The Bloodwrack Viper is a magical manifestation of hatred and bitterness. With but a whispered word from its summoner, it will go on a ferocious rampage, killing all in its path. It binds its prey in a crushing embrace, burning mortal skin away with the heat of its ichorous body before squeezing so forcefully that the victim explodes in a shower of gore. Should an enemy be too large to simply splatter open, the serpent curls around them and tightens its coils, holding its prey in place and choking them in torrents of sticky black blood. With its victim immobilised, it will then strike with its monstrous fangs.

Many Khainite battle prayers gain their strength from Morathi’s own divine essence, but the ruler of Hagg Nar has also granted her most trusted sorcerers the knowledge to cast new and terrible arcane conjurations of her own devising. Invoked by incantation and sacrifice, the blazing manifestation known as a Heart of Fury has appeared in the skies above many a Khainite war coven, stirring all who look upon it into a delirious frenzy that allows them to shrug off the gravest injuries. The enemies of Hagg Nar have learnt to dread this omen, for it heralds terrible bloodshed. As the heat of battle swells to a burning frenzy, the most devout of Khaine’s priestesses can draw upon Morathi-Khaine’s own power. When these gore-streaked zealots scream a prayer that is as much a war cry as a call of worship, a manifestation of the Heart of Fury crystallises in the firmament in a crimson miasma. This blood-dripping icon burns with supernatural rage. It is held aloft by an iron glove above the battlefield, bathing all those below in its wrathful aura. Those Daughters of Khaine so empowered by its light are sent into a frenzy of murder, continuing to fight and kill even when stricken with mortal wounds.

When Morathi-Khaine or one of her devoted Bloodwrack Medusae are beset by foes, they will summon a whirling cloud of cursed falchions to slice their foes to ribbons. Carried through the air by a crimson tempest of blood, these gleaming swords carve a steaming path through anything in their way. These enchanted blades are summoned from Morathi’s own cauldron for the use of these spellcasters and are possessed of a hateful sentience. They are manifestations coalesced from steaming blood, and contain the life-essence of the countless slain foes that bubbles within the Máthcoir. The desecrated brew bubbles with bloodlust and hatred that, once imbued in the swords of the Bladewind, drive them to slice through armour with unnatural ease to get to the flesh and blood beneath. These falchions are sharp enough to pierce even the thickest of iron shields. The blades carve through rock and masonry equally as effortlessly, preying on those who would seek shelter behind them and bisecting enemy after enemy until their summoner deigns to dismiss them.

Kraken-eater Mega-Gargants are irascible old souls who have seen it all. They find just as much satisfaction in watching the sun rise while seated atop their favourite rock as they do in destroying a village, and they crave the relief that only the sea can provide – as well as the bounty that washes up on its shores. Bundo Whalebiter is a legend along Ghur’s Coast of Tusks. He is that rarest of things, a gargant known for both brain and brawn, and has been ever since an encounter with ocean-dwelling aelves near the Icefangs. While pursuing the aelves – for the sight of their sea creatures flying about out of the water irritated him to no end – Bundo was distracted by a Fangmora Eel to which a glowing lantern had been attached. The gargant throttled the creature and took the trinket, hanging it from his ear as a fetching accoutrement. The aetherquartz in the lantern worked its magics upon Bundo, heightening his intellect such that he can now converse with shocking clarity for a gargant. As a result, Bundo has won many mercenary contracts by arguing the value in having colossal aid to call upon.

The soulpod grove in which Elthwin’s lamentiri was incubated was ransacked by ghouls and touched by maddening energies. Over time, the spirit-song that naturally envelops her fellow Sylvaneth has become torturously faint to Elthwin, and it is only the Arch-Revenant’s strength of will that has staved off insanity.

From scions of the Dark Gods to marauding orruk warlords, threats to Sigmar’s people lurk in every corner of the realms. It is Neave Blacktalon, the God-King’s foremost assassin, who must put down these fell champions. Neave travels upon winds of magic during battle to unleash storms of never-ending axe blows. With her come the Blacktalons, tightly knit companions and warriors of deadly renown all.

One of the most famed Vanguard formations is that of Lord-Aquilor Tyran Veld, a grizzled veteran who has fought campaigns in every realm save Azyr. Known as the Horizon Seekers, his retinue are often seconded to Sigmar's allies, serving as scouts and putting their hard-earned knowledge of the realms' hinterlands to good effect as they harry enemies and seize control of vital objectives.

One of the brightest stars of the Hammers of Sigmar, Knight-Draconis Aldus Valnir is an expert drake-rider known for his death-defying bravery. Lending his lance to Sigmar's allies in the fight against darkness, he is accompanied in battle by his loyal bodyguard Ortana. The two have developed a formidable synergy, timing their aerial charges to deliver a devastating one-two punch to the enemy.

The duardin of Fjori’s Flamebearers are the last survivors of many magmaholds that once stood in the Adamantine Chain, now overrun by troggoths and Skaven. Fjori has galvanised them to search for new purpose – and like true sons of Grimnir they will take on any challenge, no matter how monstrous.