Slaughterhorn Tribe

The Beastmen came into being many thousands of years ago, when Chaos first burst into the world and all that was good and wholesome was washed away in a wave of tortured unreason. As Chaos flowed across the veils of space and time into the world at large, from the skies came pulsing comets of wyrdling stone that pounded the land as if the fists of the Gods themselves struck the earth. Huge chunks of solidified Chaos energy buried themselves inside massive craters of scorched earth. As the land was infected by the raw stuff of Chaos, its insidious taint worked outward into the fertile soil to be suckled upon by the roots of ancient trees and breathed in deeply by the beasts that populated those realms. Strange and terrible processes were enacted in that dank, boiling cauldron of fecundity – the primitives of the region and beasts of the forests were somehow mated, their terrible offspring born and mated again. Generation after generation came into being, indiscriminately reproducing and dying in an uncontrolled, rapid procession. Thus, the race of Beastmen was born. Willingly embracing their Ruinous heritage, they sport the basic intelligence of men combined with the base cunning of wild animals. The Beastmen lack even a shred of nobility and compassion, belonging utterly to the Dark Gods in both body and soul. There is perhaps no Cloven One in thrall to the Ruinous Powers as deeply as Taurox, the Brass Bull. Once a fearsome chieftain of the Minotaur tribes, Taurox’s path was forever changed when he devoured the head of an emissary of Chaos who had crawled into the mortal realm through one of Taurox’s slain rivals. He was immediately shaken with visions of the world awash with blood and afloat with corpses. Roaring and screaming in convulsion, he took up his axes and slayed every single one of his tribe. But he did not stop there. For a year and a day, Taurox raged across the lands in a blind rampage, killing every living thing he could find. Tribes of Beastmen, covens of witches, mercenary Ogres, Imperial patrols, proud Bretonnian Knights, two-headed Giants – all fell to Taurox’s boundless wrath. After slaughtering almost the entire population of the vale of Lietberg, he finally collapsed into the crimson stream of blood that flowed at his feet, his energies completely spent. But the Dark Ones had seen Taurox's rampage, and still had use for him. Under a scarlet moon, he was reborn with a body of shining metal, as the reward for his fell deeds committed in their Ruinous names. No more would he tire, just as no more would he have a moment’s respite from the rage which consumed him. So Taurox set off once more and began his slaughter anew. With turbulent visions sent to him by the Dark Gods as guidance, the Brass Bull will stop at nothing, until his foes can somehow find a way to put him the grave once and for all!