Slaves to Darkness – Warscrolls

The Centaurion Marshals are creatures of terrifying stature that serve as focal points for the First Prince’s legions, commanding warriors sworn to them with cunning and tactical guile before charging headlong into the fray, where they wreak havoc upon the enemy.

Particularly favoured Chaos Lords may be granted a daemonic steed to bear them into battle. These champions become the rulers of feared cavalry warbands, driving their mounted brethren into battle with roared oaths to the Dark Gods.

Karkadraks are monstrous lizard-beasts clad in thick scales, whose destructive rampages are almost impossible to stop. Only the strongest Chaos Lords can dominate a Karkadrak, but those who succeed become truly deadly linebreakers.

Only the mightiest and most ruthless Darkoath warriors may rise to command their tribe in battle. Their killing prowess honed by years of strife and slaughter, they lead their people to victory after bloody victory, claiming heads with every swing of their cursed weapons.

Sworn to Be’lakor and granted immortality, Eternus rides at the head of First Prince’s legions, crushing those who oppose his ascension. His mighty weapons are not his only means of waging war, for Eternus commands a vast network of spies and warriors loyal to the Dark Master.

The Gaunt Summoners are strange daemon-sorcerers of Tzeentch bound to the will of the Everchosen. Some glide above the battlefield on scintillating Discs of Tzeentch, laying the enemy low with arcane power and cursed daggers.

Singri is the daughter of Gunnar Brand, heir apparent to the Darkoath tribes of the Snow Peaks. She charges into battle with a brash ferocity, one that often vexes her father, yet none are as capable as she at teasing out speed from a warhorse, nor as skilled in loosing pinpoint arrows while galloping at full tilt as Singri.

Chaos Lords are dark champions who have walked the Path to Glory and are now only one step away from glory or damnation. They are the rulers of great warbands and hordes, and their followers will die before failing these fearsome warlords.

The very air around a Sorcerer Lord is saturated with dark magic. With their command of daemonic powers and gift of foresight, these warlocks bolster the power of their allies while unleashing their own devastating spellcraft on the enemy.

Daemon Princes are those champions who, through determination and countless atrocities, have surpassed the heights of the Path to Glory. Only the most vanishingly rare souls can hold the gods’ attention long enough to achieve this apotheosis, joining the infernal ranks of daemonkind as an embodiment of Chaos itself. The earth rebels at their presence, for they are things that should not exist. Palls of shadow surround a Daemon Prince as the land cracks and vomits torrents of hellflame. With talon and cursed blade, the Daemon Prince brings ruin to the realms, assured that there are none who might challenge them.

Darkoath Chieftains lead their barbarian tribes to war with the fury and conviction of the truly devoted. These masterful warriors are always seeking greater challenges, and their skill at arms is spoken of in awe by their followers.

A Darkoath Warqueen has proven herself the rightful ruler of her barbarian tribesfolk time and again. She has sworn dread pacts to bring carnage to the Mortal Realms, and all who stand in her way must face both her wrath and that of her devoted warriors.

Exalted Heroes are those warriors who have caught the notice of the gods and now seek to make a true name for themselves. Their favoured prey are monsters and enemy champions, for by slaying these foes an Exalted Hero proves their own might.

To the daemonic Gaunt Summoners, reality is but a plaything. At the will of their master Archaon they lead armies of mortals to wreak terrible havoc. They can consume their foes in hellfire and manipulate realmgates to summon minions to their side in a matter of moments.

Gunnar Brand is a legend amongst the Darkoath tribes of the eastern Great Parch. His warrior skills, coarse charisma and raw grit have seen him emerge triumphant against seemingly impossible odds time and again. Many whisper that Gunnar’s brother forged a deal with a Wilderfiend and that the Chaos Gods have their gaze upon him.

Myrmidons are masters of the Varanspire’s fighting pits, and have spent decades mastering the gladiatorial arts. In battle they lead those who seek to join the Everchosen’s legions, for to impress a Myrmidon is to be marked for glory.

Once a whelp in the Varanspire’s fighting pits, Abraxia has risen to command the Swords of Chaos – the infamous First Circle of the Varanguard. She is a warrior of matchless willpower, convinced that there is no challenge she cannot best through bloody-minded grit. To Abraxia, Chaos represents a state of perpetual testing rather than being embodied in four insane gods. Such an anti-deific attitude pleases Archaon, who offers Abraxia that rarest of boons – a measure of his trust. In her conquest of the Sigmarite city of the Phoenicium, Abraxia consumed the sacred fire at the bastion’s heart. Cinder now flickers when she speaks, while in her eyes rages a tortured and captive flame.

Archaon is the Everchosen, champion of the Ruinous Powers, anointed in the blood of butchered empires. Many worship him as a demigod of Chaos, the primordial ruin of the false god Sigmar. It is true that the Everchosen despises the God-King – but he reserves similar loathings for the Brothers in Darkness, and indeed all deities. Were Archaon’s ultimate goals to be realised, it would be his banners alone rising over the charred corpse of the realms.

Once, Be’lakor – first of the Daemon Princes – stood paramount before the Ruinous Powers. How he fell from these heights is not known; likely his ambitions played a part, for Be’lakor craves godhood. His punishment was to crown each Everchosen but be denied the mantle himself. Yet Be’lakor is a creature of matchless cunning; even as he raged at his predicament, nursing hatred for the ‘False King’ Archaon, he schemed to reclaim his place at the forefront of the hordes of Chaos.

For those Chaos Lords who truly wish to display their dominance, only one form of mount will suffice: a Manticore, a terrible leonine beast from the wildest reaches of the realms. A Manticore is an apex predator of the battlefield, devoid of fear and filled with a berserk frenzy as it soars on great leathery wings. Only the most iron-willed of warlords can collar a Manticore’s bloodthirsty frenzy and compel the beast to serve their purpose. Those who do, however, gain a monstrous living weapon capable of shattering a battleline single-handedly.

Chaos Sorcerers wield the energies of magic unbound. Theirs are the old traditions of the soothsayer and the tribal shaman, empowered by eldritch gifts from their patron deities. The most aggressive Sorcerer Lords are not content to be whispering viziers to the champions of Chaos; they desire to command hordes, to see enemies terrified and broken before them. So do they seek out the winged alpha predators known as Manticores, arcanely forcing these beasts into service.

Though the Ruinous Powers are worshipped at countless warped temples and unholy sites, it is only in battle that they may truly be honoured. The most devout champions of Chaos seek to combine both these forms of worship, crafting bladed shrines that are carried into battle by swollen and lumbering mutants. These Warshrines are utterly suffused with fell powers. Their altars are slick with the blood of the sacrificed slain, and the great icon that crowns them pulses with the energies of the Dark Gods.

Those who receive too many gifts from the gods may degenerate into a hideous Chaos Spawn. Lumpen and misformed, these creatures lurch from their lairs when death is on the wind, slaughtering all before them with flailing tentacles and crooked claws.

Wilderfiends are both guardians and persecutors of the Darkoath tribes. Once mortal heroes themselves, they have been warped and twisted into hunched abominations that crave flesh and wield powers of primal sorcery to annihilate their prey.

One of the many forms of wildlife twisted by the power of Chaos, Raptoryx cross the land in vast flocks. Cunning and vicious beasts, they are willing to take on prey many times their size, pulling them down in a frenzy of slashing talons and snapping beaks.

Beasts of Nurgle are amongst the Plaguefather’s most bizarre daemonspawn. They resemble huge gastropods, albeit with fronds of tentacles undulating around their heads and clusters of pus-weeping eyes blinking across their faces. Their blubbery bodies leave a trail of corrosive sludge, and when a beast collides with an enemy formation, the impact smashes bones to powder. Even more unnatural than a Beast of Nurgle’s appearance, however, is the joy that pervades these daemons. They are extremely, idiotically affectionate, always on the lookout for new playmates. Such is their enthusiasm that they cannot distinguish a mortal’s cries of pain as they dissolve from whoops of excitement. Beasts of Nurgle are one of the few breeds of daemon who truly lack any form of malice. This, however, does not diminish their lethal potential. Though they are far too excitable to follow orders or hold positions, the masters of the Plague Legions can always rely on the Beasts’ witless enthusiasm to create carnage. Beasts of Nurgle have little in the way of attention span, and become disappointed when the target of their affection becomes all still and boring – yet this is quickly rectified whenever the daemon spies another potential friend in the distance.

Fiends are perhaps the strangest of all Slaanesh’s daemonspawn, unholy fusions of beast and lurid nightmare. Their two sets of lower limbs are vaguely humanoid, yet their arms end in enormous pincers. Uncannily prehensile tongues flick from their elongated faces, and their whipping tails are tipped with spikes coated in arcane venoms. Unsurprisingly, Fiends cannot inspire deep-seated desire through their appearance alone; rather, they emit a soporific musk that both attracts and immobilises their prey, filling their minds with rapturous hallucinations and allowing the Fiends to tear them apart at their leisure. Packs of Fiends skitter throughout the Six Circles of Seduction, crooning discordant songs wherever they travel. Daemons consider these tunes to be lays of the utmost sweetness, each recalling the greatest atrocities ever to grace the innermost cloisters of the Palace of Pleasure. To those mortals not in Slaanesh’s favour, a Fiend’s song is nigh-on unbearable, rolling through the meat of their minds like a ball of wicked knives. Only through repeated exposure and deep inhalations of the daemon’s musk do they begin to grasp the beauty of a Fiend’s chorus, whereupon the ‘enlightened’ mortal becomes a creature of the Dark Prince through and through.

Screamers are sky-sharks that ride upon currents of magic. These daemons drift about, fangs constantly gnashing and eyes revolving on their flattened undersides as they hunt for prey. Souls are their favoured delicacy, but aetheric energies are similarly ripe for consumption. Mortal flesh makes for a fine meal, too – though the act of ripping open prey with their circular, shredding maws sustains the Screamers far more than any physical nourishment. Champions of Tzeentch have long used Screamers as aerial shock cavalry. They are single-minded in hunting for their next mouthful of magic; Screamer shoals have been known to chase endless spells across entire landmasses. Sharpened spines and ridges jut out from the Screamers’ sleek forms, and the speeds they can reach make them deadly living missiles. Screamer shoals dart through an enemy formation without pause, scything down foes without breaking pace. Even monsters must be wary of these daemons; there are tales of Mega-Gargants that thought to pluck one of these strange beasts out of the sky for a quick snack, only to be whittled down to the bone by a sudden hurricane of fangs.

The coming of the Chaos Knights heralds a crushing defeat for their adversaries. These dreaded champions charge fearlessly into the deadliest of battles, striking down foes all around them with sundering blows from their ensorcelled weapons.

The Darkoath prize speed and agility above all in their light cavalry. Fellriders are mounted daredevils, outflanking their foes on lightning-swift and aggressive mounts, riddling their ranks with volleys of javelins before charging in to deal the killing blow.

Each of the Varanguard is a mighty champion who has passed the many tests set for them by Archaon and sworn themselves to his service. Riding atop their hulking steeds, these lords of darkness bring inescapable death to the Everchosen’s enemies.

Resolute shieldwalls are trampled by the coming of the Bloodcrushers, Khorne’s daemonic shock cavalry. It takes an especially murderous Bloodletter to master one of the ironclad daemons known as a Juggernaut. After a pleasing slaughter, the Bloodletter will be brought to an enclosed steppe deep within Khorne’s fortress – a land stamped flat by the Juggernauts that charge across the plains and slam into one another, sparks flying with each collision. The daemon must outwit or outfight the beast so that it ends up on the Juggernaut’s back – or else be gored into oblivion. Those who succeed crash free from the Brass Citadel in possession of a formidable new mount. Bloodcrushers are amongst the most unsubtle of Khorne’s warriors, which renders them truly a sight to behold. The fact that Juggernauts cannot truly be broken, and that it is they rather than their riders who decide where to charge into battle, is largely immaterial to the Bloodletters; after all, Juggernauts hunger for battle no less than any other of the War God’s servants. Protected by the Juggernaut’s metal hide, a Bloodcrusher uses its own mass as a profound weapon, smashing those foolish enough to stand in its path into flinders.

Devotees of Chaos who garner many dark rewards may rise to the ranks of the Chosen. Armed with wicked soul-cleaving weapons, these champions fight at the forefront of the Chaotic hordes, inspiring their brethren through acts of brutal violence.

Furies are spiteful daemonic imps that throng those lands under the sway of Chaos. Though individually weak, when they swarm they can prove surprisingly deadly, waiting until the foe’s back is turned before launching vicious hit-and-run attacks.