Beastmen

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!

The Beastmen believe that Malagor is the doom of mankind personified. He is a figure of nightmare, revered by the Beastmen but feared, above all, by superstitious men. To the denizens of the Empire, Malagor is the harbinger of disaster and destruction; the very embodiment of their downfall. Vilified by the Cult of Sigmar as the epitome of sin, he is depicted in holy wood carvings and tapestries as the ultimate evil - a figure that all Sigmar-fearing men should fight against or despair. From the moment of his birth, it was obvious that Malagor was blessed by the Dark Gods, being possessed of a pair of feathered pinions as black as the night. Though Malagor is a Bray-Shaman he does not give his counsel to any one chieftain. Instead, his whisperings steer the course of the entire Beastmen race, visiting the herdstones and shrines across the Great Forest or even venturing deep beyond his normal bounds to cavort in long-devastated civilisations. When the Beastmen rise and invade the lands of men with Malagor at its head, buildings will be destroyed and temples torn down or put to flame. Malagor desires nothing less than to cast down gods and goddesses of all kinds, to defile their altars, slay their priests - for he represents the Beastmen's ultimate goal: utter ruin for the Uncloven Ones.

The Beastmen revere Morghur, for he is the embodiment of disorder and mutation. As he walks, worms and insects fester to the surface, rivers travel the wrong way, and fire flits through the air. The Bray-Shamans claim that if the physical body of Morghur is cut down, then his vile spirit is simply reborn elsewhere. To the Gors, he is the essence of Chaos - the collective will of all Beastmen to fight order and burn civilisation to the ground. While the Beastmen venerate this twisted creature, the Uncloven revile him. The only one to perhaps understand the true horror of Morghur is Queen Ariel of the Wood Elves. It is she alone who perceives what the Shadowgave actually represents: a spirit of evil too powerful to be contained within a single corporeal form. Thus war rages between the Asrai and the Beastmen as the Queen seeks a way to destroy Morghur forever. The Master of Skulls knows of this endeavour but is not concerned, yet hates the Wood Elves for all they represent in turn. And as they seek his destruction, Morghur dedicates all his demented thoughts to devising their ruin.

Khazrak is a cunning foe. More than a mere brutal Beastlord, he is bestowed with an intellect far superior to that of his peers. The One-Eye has a deep understanding of his followers, able to channel the unruly nature of the herd and corral his Gors by harnessing their wild nature. Not every true-horn is worthy of Khazrak's retinue; inferior tribes will come, Gors from across the Drakwald, drawn by the One-Eye's dark reputation and hoping to share in his despicable spoils. But Khazrak's success means he can afford to be choosy, and so only those Cloven Ones he deems worthy are offered a place by his side. Those that are turned down may well be sent on their way unmolested, others that Khazrak deems as a threat - perhaps bitter at their rejection - will not leave the immediate area alive. With the One-Eye able to be selective, Khazrak retains a fearsome grip upon his army - a wild force that enacts his cunning and effective plans with murderous efficiency. No one is spared during Khazrak's attacks, his superbly-trained Warhounds easily chasing down the few who manage to escape the warherd's trap.