As always all credit for information, pictures and videos goes to others like Games

Workshop and the wonderful artists out there. I own nothing.

*Per Request I have instituted the process of bolding key information, since some people
might be too lazy lack the time to read all the way through. Again as per request this will
usually show information greatly important to the battle and not necessarily fluff.
**This profile shall be confined mostly to the Warhammer Fantasy version of Chaos, with
only light use of Age of Sigmar (mostly for art and some info on Archaons personality). The
Ask.Fm Account of Josh Reynolds is used for clarifications regarding End Times lore not
seen in the books.
A NOTE ON CANONICTY: Warhammer Fantasy is a massive, expansive work with easily
over a hundred documents to pull from for Chaos alone. These include the Army books,
Novels, Background books, the Roleplay, White Dwarfs etc. The setting also has no official
canon system, where it is okay to make any number of personal customizations. Thus for
the purposes of vs. any number of source material can be incorporated or discarded at
whim, all options equally valid to GW (which doesnt care).
My personal canon philosophy (and thus the one shown in the profile) relies on two
principles. The first is geared towards incorporating the maximum amount of sources
possible so as to present the most comprehensive picture possible. Almost every source
from 4e on that features Chaos as a major actor is covered. Even Author QnA is used,
though more so as completionism filler rather than substantive material (Josh Reynolds on
the fate of the Eastern Human nations, for example).
The second is that all instances of power levels are examined, scrutinized, and reasoned out
towards the picture that is most consistent with what appears in lore. It is my personal
belief that the model of relying only on high end feats is flawed, and particularly for army
battles. It is as disingenuous to lore and the true strengths of the faction as much as
focusing only on the low end would be. While neither are ignored and both are
incorporated when able focus is always on the most often and lore reasons are sought,
given available knowledge, for reasons behind the power fluctuations.
This document is doubtlessly imperfect and a Warhammer fan could certainly find flaws.
Some contradictions were too wide for available information to fill and when they events
occurred I used my available knowledge to make my best explanation possible Given GW
canon stance anyone is free to disregard for personal use. However when it comes to
inclusion of sheer sources and the process of hammering them into an effective lore guide
few documents will be able to match this one, of that I am certain.

There is beyond this eternity another. An existence all of its own. It is dark as the mortal mind is dark,
deep as the mortal heart is deep. This realm is sustained by the self. It is a spiritual plane made up of the
thoughts and feelings, needs and beliefs of all the knowing races the highborn and the low things that
walk the world, with aims of it being their own. It gives back in the form of energies that leak into our
world and are harnessed by the gifted in the form of magic and its many refractions. Entities beyond
understanding inhabit this dark realm of spiritual energy, this sea of soulfire. They are the behemoths
and great monsters of the depths, although our seven seas together are but a teardrop in the dry, dark
ocean of the beyond. There they endure, drunk on power, bitter with impotence curdling in the malefic
nightmare of their own existence.
Caledor Dragontamer, Prophecies of Despair
In the Warhammer Universe Chaos, in its purist form, refers to the dominant force of the Aether
otherwise known as the Sea of Souls or the Realm of Chaos. The Realm of Chaos is an otherworldly
dimension in which thoughts and emotions are made manifest. Logic does not apply as magic, thought
and emotion are the cornerstones to creation. Extreme emotions of certain similar form eventually
coalesce into even greater beings, which for the most common of these extreme emotions achieve
greater heights still until the point of godhood. The four most malevolent and greatest of these are
known as the Chaos Gods.
These terrible entities wage a never-ending war or a Great Game over the lifeblood of irrational
emotions that serves to propagate them; souls. Thus the uncorrupted of the mortal world live in

constant fear of a hell that is both frighteningly real and of their own making. The threat of Chaos is
universal and omnipresent across all civilizations and cultures of the Warhammer World, for all Chaos
gods are united in the destruction of all organized society. Worse still, unlike the world-threats of the
scheming Skaven or the belligerent Orcs, whose danger waxes and wanes, Chaos is an issue that only
grows stronger with every iteration. Once singular nations could fend off a Chaos assault; now it takes
entire coalitions, and even those arent guaranteed.
To fight Chaos is to fight an enemy that wages war on every level. From without, hordes of primal
Beastmen backed by legions of tough Northmen dominate the melee, ambushing and overpowering
their foes through brute force. Powerful Daemon enhanced Chaos Dwarf artillery can blow holes
through even the most stalwart fortification, while monsters beyond description inflict untold damage.
From within the enemy of Chaos must deal with temptation of all manner designed to corrupt and
subvert the enemy, organized often by nefarious cults. These cults serve to rot and ultimately destroy
the host from within. Yet the greatest threat comes from neither within or without, but beyond; the
terrifying creatures of the Aether known as the Daemons. The Forces of Chaos are a terrible threat
upon their world, and are overall the most powerful faction of the setting. In their entire history
Chaos has only been delayed, never defeated in a lasting manner. Its a cancer that can only be put in
remission temporarily, not cured. Led by the Lord of the End Times the Forces of Chaos stand to see the
destruction or corruption of all that is good,
orderly, and just.
You can never harden yourself, not
completely. Perhaps against orcs, or goblins, or
troops from another country. Chaos, though it
never loses its power to knot a mans gut. So if
you feel fear, do not think yourselves
inadequate. I have heard much talk of Chaos,
but from my experience of it, it is pure
wrongness given solidity and clothed in flesh. It
terrifies us, because it is everything that should
not be. If you do not feel dread, when you see a
thing like we just saw, that is the time to
question yourself. Because then you know that
madness has taken you completely.
Franziskus, Liars Peak

Moving between realities was a sickening shock. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. As the creature glided
through the state immaterial the very rawness of Chaos Archaon felt a wave of indescribable intensity
come over him. It was as though he had hit a wall of pain, of pleasure, of possibility but had passed
through it. He fought for control of his body and soul. His mind cried out both for relief and for more. He
felt lost and as if he did not know himself, yet had never known himself or his place in the world better.
Tears began to roll down his cheeks. He struggled to control his bowels and choked back the necessity of
vomiting in his helmet. Experiencing the crude power of ruin uncrafted and without purpose was a
dreadful feeling that both excited and appalled his every sense and shattered the very core of his being. It
felt like he had died.
If Dorghar had intended such an overwhelming experience to unsettle and ultimately unsaddle its rider, the
dread beast was disappointed. Bathing the Chaos warlord in the searing certainty of the unknown had not
broken him. Archaon did not clutch his helm in immaterial agony. He did not slip from the monsters back
in a warped daze. He did not scream his sanity away. With his good eye, Archaon saw things that were not
meant to be seen in the howling blaze of the polar gateway. Far below if such a thing still existed for
Archaon and the steed predacious daemons, entities of the beyond and monstrous personifications,

hungered for the fragility of his soul. They were a horror removed. Ever warping. Ever waiting. Ever
wanting. Archaon understood how such sights could drive a man to madness and shatter his reason.
Archaon, however, was more than a man. He saw the impossibility of worlds connected like no one else.
He could not only see what fear-feasting daemons and the Ruinous Powers of the otherworldly realm
wanted him to see; with the darksight of his ruined eye he saw light where there was shadow. Perversities
twisted themselves into a contorted sense. The burning certainty of his gaze lit the way to truths that
commonplace dread refused to acknowledge. With the Eye of Sheerian he saw even more. The sorcerous
gem burned bright in his helm, granting the Chaos warlord sights of dread wonder. The Eye revealed the
daemons and their abyssal masters to be living corruptions. Realizations of the mortal condition. Selfdetermining entities, spawned and living out their unnatural existence in a stormy maelstrom of dark vision
and emotion. They were the architecture of purest intention, draped in an otherworldy flesh formed of
hope, of fear and of the unbearable, myriad states inbetween. Archaon: Lord of Chaos
It is fitting to start the Chaos profile with the deities they worship, the gods. These five figures, though
four of primary importance, have existed almost since time immemorial, waging war against each other
in a never-ending Great Game. Such is their power that they are stuck in an endless cycle of conflict,
for even if three allied against the fourth they would not be able to destroy the last. Any of the four
attempting to assault the stronghold of the other realms would find the innermost sanctum
unassailable, with labyrinths, terrible plagues and seductions of all manners serving to completely
whittle down the enemy force. Khorne's solution is simple; when enemy daemons reach his Citadel he
simply gets up off his throne and battles, being far too skilled to ever be beaten in a contest of martial
might.
To that end they are united, however loosely, in the goal of corrupting the lands of mortals for it is both
a source of souls and champions with which to bolster their performance in the Great Game, and the
wellspring from which the emotions they are formed of first coalesce. For example those taken by
Nurgle's plagues further his power in the Realm of Chaos, while great bloodletting feeds Khorne. Great
territorial gains in the Realm of Chaos follow gains in the physical plane.
However the Chaos Gods themselves are too bound to the Aether plane to manifest in the mortal realm
in all (with an exception to be discussed later). To carry out their wars, both in the Realm of Dreams
and Real Space, the gods create daemons. Each Daemon is a splinter of his divine master, a distorted
reflection of mortal yearning, a shard of emotion and dark desire given form and license to destroy.
They are the gods children and see their very existence as a need to fulfill their creators wishes.
While Khornes daemons dont care and are single-minded in their bloodletting the other daemon
variants do not see themselves as malevolent but benevolent, a reflection of the greatest being in
existence. To them the forced change/diseases/torture they inflict on people is literally the best gift
they can give, and are often perplexed that the mortal does not care to accept their gifts. However even
in the cases where they come to realize just how harmful their gifts are to mortals they show no signs of
caring and continue to inflict suffering anyway.

"What are we? Your scholars claim we exist only to tempt you, yet in a very real way we are
you! We are your own fears, your own desires, your own ambition and rages given form (if not
flesh). How can you fight us? Only by fighting your own humanity and why would you want that?
You would be fighting against life itself! For what is Chaos but life? "
-Pg 20, Old War Bestiary

" Daemons
can only enter
the mortal
world if
sustained by
magic. While
magic flows, a
Daemon is nigh
unstoppable...
Thus are
battles within
the Realm of
Chaos, where
magic suffuses
every particle
of dust and air,
ceaseless and
interminable -- if indeed they can be determined at all. Yet when the Daemons spill over into the mortal
plane, their power waxes and wanes with the Winds of Magic, making them highly unpredictable foes. A
daemonic host can vanish on the cusp of victory, cast back into the Realm of Chaos as its sustaining
magic fades. Conversely, a Daemon army can be whittled away to almost nothing, only to come back
stronger and fiercer than ever when the Winds of Magic howl. "- From Daemon 8e Codex

As tiny fragments of their master Daemons are less tied to the Warp, and thus are able to exist on the
material plane for a time. A Daemon's corporal form is fueled by both the Winds of Magic (which are
invisible currents of magical energy that flow across the Warhammer world) and its ability to spread
the attributes of their kind. In the case of the former a Daemonic Host will struggle greatly to sustain
themselves if the Winds are a gentle of breeze, or conversely receive regeneration buffs if the Winds
are blowing at a Tempest. In some instances Winds of Magic have suddenly ceased mid-battle and
allowed a mortal army a quick victory. Greater Daemons can serve as anchors on reality that allow

other daemons to exist freely while they exist, such is their dread presence, however even they can fade
or diminish with the winds.
Daemonic durability varies widely depending on the winds. For example in one battle where the winds
were blowing fierce and Nurgle was the dominant god (more on that later) Plaguebearers, the most
durable type of the basic daemons, required 5 halberdiers per 1 of their kind or grapeshot to reliably
destroy and many could even heal from cannon (round) shot. Likewise daemons when the winds are low
can fall as easily as any mortal. Assuming average winds, neither high nor low, the daemon is still more
durable than mortals and is going to require 2-3x more ammo and much more hacking to destroy.
Furthermore Daemons can boost their own durability by spreading their attributes among mortals- for
example Plaguebeaers that spread plague and Bloodletters that shed blood can boost their individual
hold on reality.
In the End Times (or the portion of the campaign where magic has now saturated the campaign area
enough) daemons lose their inherent instability, now able to exist freely on the mortal plane for great
periods of time. Though their durability is still bound separately to the winds they will usually not
disappear entirely when the winds are low, only become easier to kill. However even in those conditions
daemons cannot exist forever and will disappear eventually.
Like the gods they serve, daemons are magical creatures that cannot be permanently killed except in
the most extraordinary circumstances*. Instead when a mortal destroys their physical form they kill
their connection to the physical realm, forcing them back to the Realms of Chaos. There they must
wait many years before they can manifest again in the mortal realm (Greater Daemons, the most
powerful of Daemonkind, have to wait a hundred), thus counting in a sense as a mortal victory, albeit a
temporary one. There are ways for a daemon to come back sooner however this requires exhaustive
ritual and many components on the part of the daemons mortal followers.
* The only known way to destroy them so completely is to destroy both their physical form and block their connection to the Realm of Chaos
so their soul dissipates into nothing. Exceptionally powerful magical weapons, a daemon consuming another or the like are generally
required.

Daemons are being

that exist in more
dimensions then
normal mortals do
thus greatly
enhancing their
sensory perception.
They can actually
see and detect
the emotions of
almost all mortals
(save possibly the
most mentally
strong), and the
degree of it. For
example they can
see, even taste
fear and would be
able to tell whether
its faint or near the
point of utter
horror (these senses
in quotations are
the closest human
analogies to what
daemons actually
feel, but they are
not quite accurate;
daemons claim their
real senses are
supposedly beyond mortal comprehension). In addition they have a unique perception of time, with
some daemons being able to tell a mortals past and possible future history, or even view a line all the
way back for hundreds of generations.
In the novel Hour of the Daemon, the lead protagonist has a daemon subtly pour more and more of its
essence inside him, cumulating in total possession. During this time he is able to see the world as that
Daemon sees it, to see the various shades of corruption and the perception of the Daemon itself.
Archaon, when he received a mutation in the form of a Warpstone eye that allowed him to see the

world as a daemon does, could actively see the emotions of his enemies. Soo too could the Daemon
Prince Sutvenwulf.

Nor were the people unaffected by this sudden change. Boys transformed into imps, their eyes alight with
mischief, their mouths revealing needle-sharp teeth, their hands becoming elongated claws whose barbed tips
dripped with fresh blood. Merchants grew ratlike, their features extending, and their eyes growing small and
shifty, their fine coats turning into thin, oily fur. The labourers grew more oafish, their features slackening and
growing coarse, thick hair sprouting from every patch of skin, their eyes glazing red.
It was a scene from a nightmare, and Alaric started as it washed over him. Only he and Dietz seemed
unchanged, and his friend was still glancing around without apparent concern.
I am imagining this, Alaric thought; the after-effects of that fever, and of obsessing over the mask and those
bloody marks for so many days already. My mind is playing tricks upon me, that is all.
But somehow he could not quite believe that. What he was seeing was too real. He could hear the whickers
andgrunts from the labourers, the hissing and chittering of the merchants, the cackles of the boys, the hiss and
pop of the flames. He could feel an oily residue upon his skin from the air, and the hard sharp edges of the
stones beneath his feet. The air that filled his lungs was smoky and oily, and tinged with the coppery smell of
blood and the too-sweet smell of decay.
This was real. Dietz couldn't see it, but it was real, and he was in it.
Nor were the people unaffected by this sudden change. Boys transformed into imps, their eyes alight with
mischief, their mouths revealing needle-sharp teeth, their hands becoming elongated claws whose barbed tips
dripped with fresh blood. Merchants grew ratlike, their features extending, and their eyes growing small and
shifty, their fine coats turning into thin, oily fur. The labourers grew more oafish, their features slackening and
growing coarse, thick hair sprouting from every patch of skin, their eyes glazing red.
It was a scene from a nightmare, and Alaric started as it washed over him. Only he and Dietz seemed
unchanged, and his friend was still glancing around without apparent concern.
()
The other interesting thing Alaric noticed was that these elves were exactly as they seemed. The woods around
them possessed a strange layer of shadowy images, not quite like the terrible apparitions he had been seeing
of late, but as if there were more here than normally appeared. When he looked at the elves, even when he let
his mind slip into the half-trance state that he had discovered brought forth the visions more clearly, he saw
only them, without distortion. If he was seeing Chaos, overlaid upon the world, the elves were not touched by it
in any way. They were wholly their own creatures, and beholden to none.
(.)
Alaric had a brief flash, similar to the visions that had been plaguing him of late, but with one significant
difference. The land around him was suddenly awash with strangeness: severed limbs and shattered skulls, and
puddles of what might be blood or other bodily fluids adorning the ground; a strange film, coating the rocks
and dirt, like filth solidified or grease left to cool; clouds roiling overhead, forming lurid images before
breaking apart. The mercenaries Alaric saw scattered around the camp became larger and more brutish,
revealing their inner lust for violence. Lankdorf had tendrils of mist curling around him, as did Dietz. Alaric
suspected they were vestiges of

their previous encounters with Chaos, showing that they had been marked, not by choice, but by proximity.
Kleiber and Wilcreitz were different. They had no Chaos taint to them, quite the opposite. Whereas the elves had
looked no different to Alaric's strange vision, the two witch hunters glowed, a pure white light limning their
faces and figures. The light was bright, but not blinding, and Alaric found it strangely comforting, even though
it made his head throb painfully. He also realised that Kleiber had been right about Wilcreitz; whatever
personality flaws the junior witch hunter might have, his intentions were pure, and he did indeed carry Sigmar's
blessing.
()
Coarse black hair, tightly matted, covered his entire body, which had grown in girth if not in height, but Alaric
could see that the fur actually contained thousands of tiny barbs that caught at the creature's flesh whenever it
moved, causing rivulets of blood to constantly gush all over his body. The beastman's nose expanded to fill
much of its face, and its eyes were small, and glowed with malevolence. Its body was outlined in a deep red
that flickered and oozed around it, as if blood had spurted forth and then clung to it like a halo. Alaric knew
that was the Chaos taint that infused and surrounded the creature, but the knowledge did nothing to make the
scene less terrifying.
Then he saw something else, a dark shape coiled within the massive beastman, a tendril of black and deepest
red that writhed and twisted as he watched. It resembled a snake, though one formed from smoke and blood,
and fire and darkness. In its elongated jaws, between its many fangs, it held a battered crown.
Alaric somehow knew what he was seeing. This was the beastman... no, the beastlord's hatred and rage. Its
leadership had been stripped away, and that gnawed at it.- Hour of the Daemon

Looking with his daemonsight, Sutenvulf could sense the emotions that swirled across
the bloodied glacier: the rage of the champions of Khar; the fear of the Imperial Knights
as the daemon prince swept towards them; the loathing of the weakling Sigmarite priest
who hid behind the armour-clad horsemen; the ferocious, instinctual blood-thirst of the
beastmen who hacked and slashed at the halberdiers protecting the Imperial
clergyman.- Claws of Chaos

As he spoke, the images swirling across her field of vision began to make more sense. She saw the origin
of the materials that surrounded her, the age of the metals and the stories behind them. Such stories were
imprinted into the matter of them, scored across the face of the world and stained in time. The iron in the
shaft above her had come from a mine deep under the Worlds Edge Mountains. Even now, it screamed at
the perversion around it. The world itself resisted her, knowing her for what she was. The world, however,
was old and tired, and she was as young and vital as a flame.
Everything had a story imprinted on it. That was the ultimate truth. There was nothing in the
cosmos but stories, some given form, some just fleeting shadows. The men before her were stories,
unfolding through time, weaving in and out of possibilities like carp amongst weeds.-Sword of
Vengeance
As the horror followed the blade everywhere it went and the torso and legs of Grand Master Schroeder
fell to one side, Kastner suddenly realized that his eye was firmly shut. He was a raging bonfire, blinding
in the darkness he threw across the stinging purity of the temple sanctuary. Blotted out by the brightness
of the cathedral walls and the holy ground upon which they charged, the knights of Sigmar caught the full
glare of Kastners burgeoning malevolence and cast shadows of light some blazing with the pious
nobility of their hearts, some long and sallow with the doubt and dark secrets they hid deep within
themselves. Kastner saw through their plate and the armor of their souls. He read them like heretical
texts: their hopes, their needs, their flaws and their fears. He knew what they were going to do to him
before they did and he killed them for it. Archaon: Everchosen

The following dawn the crimson sky was filled with rain, so that it seemed as the air itself cried
blood. Each drop falling upon dragon scale and link of armour rang as if blade against blade. Every
sliding droplet screeched like metal torn or throat slit. As the shower became a downpour,
Aenarion and Indraugnir were surrounded by the din of battle, the arrhythmic clashing and
wailing overlapping to form words bellowed so fiercely that Aenarion feared for his hearing.
Begone! he shouted.
Foolish mortal! the voice roared in return. Think you to turn war against its makers?
We will feed upon every blow you land, every drop of blood shed, every bone broken and every
skull severed. In battle we were born and for battle we exist. The ringing of your sword shall be
a clarion to us, and in hosts uncountable we will fight you. For each of us you fell, another shall
be born, into war unending, battle without cease to the end of the world and the universe beyond.
The dead do not feed, laughed Aenarion. When you are slain you shall feast no more
upon violence and rage. Cold shall be your deaths, for I will be heartless and pitiless, though my
rage shall outmatch yours.

The beasts of war cannot be vanquished! Great may be your fury, yet the harder you fight,
the stronger we shall become. There is not a blade forged by man or god that does not belong to us.
Every life you take shall be a life dedicated to us and your victories will be as hollow as your
defiance.- Aenarion
Khorne, currently the most powerful god, is the god of war, hate, violence, rage and bloodlust. Every
act of killing empowers him, with the most senseless acts feeding him the most. It is fitting perhaps that
in his realm the Blood God sits upon a mighty throne of brass rooted atop a vast mountain of skulls.
Khornes armor-clad body is broad and muscular, his visage that of a fierce and snarling dog with
ravaged lips. When the Blood God speaks, he does so in bellows of black rage, each guttural syllable
igniting the air in tainted sparks. The Blood God is the only god who ever, if rarely, personally intervenes
in the War among the Gods (fortunately he is too powerful to manifest on the mortal planes even at the
height of the first Daemonic Incursion).
Khorne's foremost rival Chaos God is Slaanesh, the two gods' powers coming from two diametrically
opposed concepts. Khorne demands self-sacrifice and bloodshed for its own sake, whereas Slaanesh
embodies self-indulgence, and bloodshed is merely one of a multitude of ways of exploring new
experiences. However, it must be noted that Khorne's followers do not act in order to cause pain
because pain, as a counterpart of pleasure, is the domain of Slaanesh. Instead, while the followers of
Khorne may express Khorne's rage, they wish only to kill so that the blood and skulls of their victims
strengthen Khorne. The fact that the suffering and excess of this conflict also strengthens Slaanesh
causes conflict between the two.
Among Daemons Khornes most stereotypically resemble the Daemons we imagine today. They often
have cloven hooves, are blood red, have terrible bloodlust and driven to slaughter any that they can
find.

His mortal warriors

are the greatest of
all Warriors of
Chaos when it
comes to fighting
and iron
determination.
Indeed they are so
renowned for their
fighting and
bloodlust that
other allies are
fearful of them, for the followers of Khorne are renowned for killing other followers of Chaos and
even each other if nothing else is available. If they believe Khorne has a specific purpose for them they

can constrain themselves just long enough to meet the enemy- though even this is difficult. There on
the battlefield they turn into a roaring, unmanageable mass of flesh and steel, hitting enemy lines like
the fist of Khorne. However, as Khorne hates sorcery, he will never have any sorcerers in his army.

"The Blood God is often the most terrifying threat to those who have faced Chaos in Norsica or the Chaos
Wastes beyond. The Drinker of Souls, after all, makes his followers powerful and fearless in battle. Yet
those favored by Great Decay are perhaps more dangerous to the common folk of the Empire, for the
diseases of Chaos cannot be fought by strength of arms alone. The Despoiler, also, is greatly
underestimated; those in power who dismiss its seductive cults are but one step closer from being
absorbed by them, and giving much of the strength of the Empire to the Dark Powers. None of these
three is truly the most deadly threat to us though. That is the Changer of Ways. He has not the
destructive power of the gore drenched dog, nor the devastating plagues of the rotted one, nor the
insidious temptations of the harlot's lord but he has a willingness to wait that belies his chaotic nature.
Fight the machinations of the others however you can, but watch always for the hand of Tzeentch, for he
has been waiting since time immemorial for us to make one mistake, and the moment we do, we are lost
forever. "
--Old World Bestiary, pg 10-11
You are not fate, he roared, though whether they were his words or Ulrics, he didnt know. You are its
slave, as are we all. Frost swirled about his clenched fingers. You are but the merest shard of a mad,
broken dream. A cackling, senile shadow which schemes against itself because it is too myopic to
recognize the wider cosmos. -Gregor Martak, Lord of the End Times
Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways, is the Chaos god of sorcery, change, and manipulation. Tzeentch is
closely associated with sorcery and magic, as well as dynamic mutation, and grand, convoluted
scheming. The domains of history, destiny, intrigue and plots are his chief interests, and in pursuit of
these aspects he listens to the dreams and hopes of all and watches their plans take form. He is not
content to merely observe, however, and chooses to interfere in the skeins of fate in order to fulfill his
own, unknowably complex schemes. Tzeentch is known by an endless multitude of names, but the chief
titles he bears are the Changer of the Ways, the Master of Fortune, the Great Conspirator and the
Architect of Fate. Tzeentch embodied magic, ambition, knowledge, and hope.
His great mortal enemy is Nurgle, for the lord of decay embodies the resistance to death and
hopelessness, while Tzeentch is hope and change. The two daemons are somewhat opposite on the field
with Nurgle loving close quarters plague troops while Tzeentchs are ranged sorcerers using cunning
rather than large charges of diseased troops.

Though the followers of

Tzeentch are the least
numerous of the chaos gods
they are by far the most
ambitious. Among the chaos
cultists they are usually
scholars, visionaries,
revolutionaries, sorcerers or
great schemers who plot
monumental change among
the world. An example
appears in Taint of Evil,
where ambitious rulers
seeking to create a new city
(Sigmarghest) for a new
world were eventually
manipulated to changing for
changes sake rather than
progress. Other times they
are the desperate, the sly or
the slighted; however these
are only his willing followers.
Of all the gods Tzeentch is
most likely to have
pawns- knowing or
unknowing- to do his work
through subtle action.
Sometimes these pawns are
those who directly try to
work against them but end
up as part of the schemer gods ineffable plans. Among the Warriors themselves Chaos are likewise the
least numerous but the most magically spectacular. Their wizards are some of the greatest on the planet
and the force is sometimes described as mutating before their opponents very eyes!

Tzeentchi daemons are,

rather fittingly, divided up
sort of like a chess game.
The basic units, the Horrors,
are considered pawns to
those above them (Heralds)
who in turn are considered
bishops to those above
them and so on. The ones at
the top, the Lords of
Change, are incredibly
deceitful and cunning
creatures with schemes
spanning millennia.
'Existence is like a stream in motion,' the figure standing behind Malador said in a voice that was as
soft as thunder and as harsh as silk. 'It ripples and twists and bubbles and babbles. It is everything and it
is nothing. Within that stream, there are hunters and there is prey. Can any mind ever truly know which
role it is called upon to play in any given moment? Only foolish mortals are so certain that they know
their place in the confusion that is everything and nothing.' The voice was at once both amused and
perplexed by what it considered the paradox of ignorance. 'It is the foolish who think they understand. It
is the wise who know that they never will.'
Malador turned toward the source of the terrible voice, the voice that was at once sweet and bestial.
The shape was no longer so very much like Belithi now, for it had swelled to something of mammoth size,
its face had twisted into a sharp beak of bone. Thousands of eyes had opened all about its form, of every
shape and colour, as were the feathers that covered its wings. The entire shape seemed to glow with an
every changing inner illumination.
'There is only one constant, even within Chaos,' the monster declared. It extended its hand, stabbing
its finger at Malador. The elf did not have time to scream as his bones twisted, as his flesh swelled. New
limbs grew and collapsed, extra mouths opened and screamed before bursting apart as they transformed
into wet gleaming organs. The elf's body was gripped by a fit of uncontrolled metamorphosis and
transformation, ripping itself apart even as it shifted between an idiot legion of forms and shapes.
'The only constant,' the daemon laughed as its body faded into the wind, 'is Change.' Wind of
Change

The Lord of All enjoys the songs, the chanting of children at play, holding hands and dancing around.
They sing of flowers, of his plagues that sweep through the land and the ashes of bodies burned. They
celebrate this life of death, for he is both the cause of their suffering and he who would save them from
it. He defines the times with the pain and fear he brings into mortal lives. Though they would not know it,
they sing and dance to the tune of the Great Pestilences calling.
He takes so many souls in this way. Like the harvest, they are weighed and measured. They are his tithe.
His reward for the architecture of agony that is his contribution to their mortal failing.- Archaon :
Everchosen
Nurgle, the Plague Lord, is the Chaos god of disease, despair, decay, and Death. He also feeds off of
emotions that leads to despair, such as horror, revulsion, denial, desperation, etc. His titles include the
Fly Lord, Great Corruptor, Master of Pestilence, Lord of Decay and represents morbidity, despair,
disease and physical corruption. He is described as a huge, fat, plox infected, creature with antlers and a
grotesque body. He is considered the most "friendly" of the chaos gods, for he is the only god to care
about those who follow and worship him. His personality is considered Joyful, kind, and happy, in
demeanor.

His main
enemy is
Tzeentch, the
Lord of
Change,
because the
Changer of
Way's rapid
change and
hope is the
antithesis of
slow decay
and despair.
Nurgles
daemons are
usually very
bloated and
disease
infested,
speculated by some to be intentionally designed this way to provoke revulsion, fear and disgust upon
sight. With some exceptions they are also surprisingly friendly and naturally eager to spread diseases.
They also have some interesting personality traits for each variant, like how Beasts of Nurgle are friendly
to a fault, Plaguebeaerers tally up every disease in existence, and Great Unclean Ones view themselves
as benevolent leaders and their followers as children.
Nurgles mortal followers are, like the daemons, disease infested and bloated. Though the slowest of
the Chaos forces, they are the most durable and are almost immune to pain and discomfort. Their
hordes can usually be smelt before seen, and March alongside uncounted terrible fat-bodied plague
flies. Though the basic footsoliders are usually grim, the champions of Nurgle are remarkably ebullient,
cheerfully spreading gifts to any and all of the non-afflicted. Indeed they will actively seek out any

disease they can find to infest themselves with it.

Nurgle is the god of despair who loves to inflict hopelessness among mortals. The despair of one getting
older and realizing they no longer have the vibrancy of youth, the angst of one who has an incurable
disease or is dealing with the slow prospect of death. Thus unlike the other gods, who mostly rely on
worshippers coming to them, Nurgle actively tries to bring worshippers to him with his diseases..
Eventually the most desperate beg him for relief, which Nurgle usually provides in a fashion. While he
would never cure them of diseases, he does ensure they are free from pain, and sometimes stronger.
Eventually they will even come to love the state they are in. Under these circumstances the inflicted
come to realize that their only purpose in life is to decay, a revelation that they then joyfully try to
spread unto others.

It is often assumed in Warhammer that the sick and plagued are either touched by Nurgle or are his
servants. This is false. Though physical and mental decay may ravage their bodies and their spirits may
be battered by the ordeal, the sick are not corrupted by Nurgle. They may be depressed and saddened
by their predicament but in order to truly give in to Nurgle they must give into Despair. This is defined,
in Liber Chaotica, as the complete and total abandonment of hope, the rejection of the fairs of the
world outside of ones miserable state, and the bizarre determination to hold on to ones abject
bitterness, regardless of circumstance. It is a willful act in which the afflicted individual deliberately and

willfully forgoes any possibility of salvation, change or hope. It is a personal choice that falls in Item 4 of
the corruption sheet.
As discussed above in the Plague section, diseases are Nurgles primary mechanism inflict such crippling
despair.

Take care, lest your protests grow tiresome. I have asked for so little! Anyone would think that I have
asked you to sacrifice yourselves and your sons! And yet, in Slaanesh's boundless and pleasing mercy, I
have asked only for your daughters. Surely you would not deny me my small enjoyments?
Then a cloud passed over the face of the sun, and the Prince spoke again, His voice both syrup and
poison: You will take Pleasure in all that is, though your bodies will break and your souls be forfeit. You

will do this, and do this gladly. For I am Slaanesh, most jealous of gods, most demanding of lovers, and
My Thirst for you shall never be sated. Liber Chaotica
Slaanesh, the Dark Prince, is the Chaos God(ess?) of Pleasure, Passion, and Decadence. Lust, pride and
self-indulgence are the hallmarks of all who follow him. Slaanesh can assume any form; male, female,
hermaphrodite or asexual; when looked upon by a mortal Slaanesh takes the form of the sex of their
desire. Slaanesh is the core rival of Khorne who he considers his opposite. Slaanesh is the embodiment
of all that mortals long for.
Slaanesh is the Lord of Pleasure, the Dark God dedicated to the pursuit of earthly gratification and the
overthrow of all decent behavior, as well as hedonism and pleasure for its own sake. He is the God of
Obsession, the Master of Excess in All Things, from gluttony to lust to megalomania. Wherever mortals
are ruled by their own unquenchable desires, the Dark Prince of Chaos is there in the shadows,
whispering, tempting, and feasting on a banquet of souls. But this is true in all things, not just carnal
pleasures. Those who desire to indulge in the finest culinary delights, the most beautiful artworks, even
the most sensual clothing, could all be amongst Slaaneshs disciples.
Just as importantly, Slaanesh is also the god of perfection. The singer striving for the most beautiful song
or the warrior who seeks the perfect fighting techniques, both could be devotees of Slaanesh.It is for
these reasons that Slaanesh gains power somewhat from what his compatriots do . While this is not
quite as much a gain as the other Chaos Gods, it is enough to cause apprehension among his brothers
who fear that even though Slaanesh is the weakest god now that he might surpass them all one day.
In the North these warriors who turn to him often seek power, women or fame. Gradually as they dive
deeper they are more and more consumed by pride, arrogance and excess of all sorts even as they
attract more and more followers through otherworldly charisma and majesty. As they get more jaded
they lose any care they ever had for their followers except as a means to hear praise (for these
champions ego is incredibly inflated) or as a means to carry
out their most depraved act. Ironically the more uncaring
the Slaaneshi champion becomes, the greater his aura
drives followers to greater feats of loyalty and sacrifice.
Warriors of Slaanesh are known for their incredible grace
and marvelous attire. Each warrior has numerous sigils and
tattoos, have polished and often colored armor, and are
draped in delicate silk. . In order to induce the most
sensation, these are held together by terrible iron hooks
that dig into the flesh to cause agony. Their combat skill is
second only to those followers of Khorne, and their
enjoyment in battle stand above all other Chaos followers.
The Followers of Slaanesh can be truly said to live in the
moment or at least that is what they would say. Others
would call them extremely whimsical and fickle. To them

the tedious business of discipline, of maintenance, and essentially any task that results in fearful
boredom is beneath them. They are creatures of passion who want to feel and experience all and cannot
be entrapped by monotonous routine. However as creatures of passion, they might experience great
bursts of creative energy, seeking perfection in a chosen art for a period that briefly surpasses even
those veterans of the art. It is because of this that the armor they take to the battlefield is usually
exceptionally well made, clean, and beautiful (if menacing) to look at. Even then however after
growing bored of battle the mortal followers of Slaanesh will often discard their beautiful weaponry and
armor to pursue other, more indulgent pursuits, leaving them to rust.

Slaaneshs
daemons are
usually extremely
varied in shape
and based on the
whims of what
Slaanesh was
dreaming of at the
time. However as
a common feature
all are lithe and
quick, possessing a
superhuman
agility that few
humans can
match. They are
torturers who take great pleasure in killing the enemy in excessively gruesome or terrible ways. If the
opportunity presents itself they may take a mortal captive and torture him for years.

A minor god compared to the other four, Hashuts aspect is associated with tyranny, greed, fire and
hatred. Hashut is the god worshipped exclusively by the Chaos Dwarves. Long ago during the Great
Cataclysm when Chaos first burst onto this world, the Chaos Dwarves were nearly utterly destroyed.
Only through a pact with Hashut were they able to survive. In the civil war that followed (for not all
welcomed this betrayal of the ancestor gods) Hashut gifted his Dwarves the ability to use magic and
terrible devices, and as a result the civil war was won for his side. In return for their pact, the Dawi Zhar
(seemingly his only servants) sacrifices thousands horribly each day.
The Growth of the Four Main Gods and the Horned Rat can be considered to akin as a wild fire- big
unchecked growths with the tendency to quickly diminish. Meanwhile Hashuts growth is slow and
steady but persistent, the rumble of incoming industry on the move. He has no daemons, no ascended

princelings nor hope for life ever after; for on death Hashut consumes his Chaos Dwarf servants as
assuredly as everything else, reminiscent of the soul-crushing drive to industry that he represents.

==FORCES OF CHAOS==
Brief History of Beastmen (of the Old World)

The origin of the Beastman lies in that pivotal moment when Chaos first entered the world from the
great stargates of the Old Ones. It did not do so subtly but rather with the largest of the proverbial
bangs. Virtually every race on the planet was simultaneously assaulted by daemons and other dark
things. While Lizardmen, High Elves and Dwarves battled the horde of otherworldly predators the widely
common and diverse race of man was left to its own devices. These were terrifying times for man, for
this was well before even the ancient empires of Khmeri and Cathay had come into being. With no such
institution, with no protection from the fully occupied elder races, mankind had no hope of stopping
Chaoss dark intentions.
It occurred in the forests throughout the globe as raw chaos permeated everywhere. The malign magics
of Chaos warped these inhabitants of these forests, as well as animal and plant life, with each iteration.
Weird calls echoed throughout the wilds and terrible, unspeakable processes were enacted in the
depths of the jungle. The primitives of the regions, all of them, and beasts were somehow mated, the
process of thousands of years of evolution somehow rapidly occurring over a process of years. And in
that Time of Darkness man became beast, and beast became man.
From this point, even though Beastmen are clearly almost everywhere, only the history of the Beastman
in the Old World is well known. For many millennia the Beastmen of the area of what would be called

the Empire ruled virtually unimpeded, with

only the occasional tussle with High
Elves/Dwarves, races that kept primarily to
the mountains or coasts. Man lived in fear
of what dwelled in the forest- until a legend
with a golden hammer appeared; the
Warrior-God Sigmar. He unified the
disparate man tribes, drove back the
Beastman, and created an Empire that held
dominion over the forest. Ever since then the Beastmen have dreamed of revenge and every Beastman,
from the highest lord to the lowest ungor, longs for a return to the days when Beastmen ruled the forest
without inhibition. This hatred has only grown since mankind's civilizations have advanced and his
achievements grew.
For the most part the influence of the Beastman has been widespread but under localized leadership,
for much of the Old World is in their forested domain. However rarely a Beastlord of particularly
powerful influence manages to unite vast groups of these fractious tribes. The largest of them, Gorthor,
once devastated two provinces and destroyed both Orcish and Imperial armies. Though ultimately
defeated by returning crusader knights Gorthor once again reminded humanity of their ancestral fear of
the forests.
Even though their single greatest achievement is the near conquest of two provinces out of twelve, it
should be noted that Beastmen are Chaos's frontline troopers, who are never far from the action. They
are one of the few who are both born of chaos and free from its constants at the same time, meaning
their spread is not dictated by any whimsical Winds of Magic. Thus they can fight where daemons
cannot, chase and murder those who are beyond the reaches of the Northern Wastes. They play an
important role in draining the manpower and resources of mortals.

Biology and Culture:

The biology of the beastman depends greatly on the varied subtypes and locations. For example in the
Kingdoms of Ind they are said to be a mixture of tiger and man, in Southlands man and ape (not
including an actual civilization of sentient apes down there) and in Naggrond man and lizard. The
purest strain of Beastmen, shown in lands without men in them (South Pole) seems to be half-Beast,
half-Daemon. However the main focus here is on the Old World variant which, even though potential for
great variation exists, can generally be defined as having hooved feet (leading to their nickname "The
Cloven Ones") , bovine heads with a set of horns, and the body of an exceptionally hairy and strong
man. As a rule all variants of beastman tougher and hardier then their human descendants.

Just past him, an arched doorway broke the wall, and by craning his neck Dietz could see several tall,
husky figures prowling down the hall beyond. He had seen beastmen before, of coursemostly when their
bodies had been dragged back to Middenheim by bounty hunters and bored guardsmen. Hed even fought
a few since enlisting in that madman Alarics service. When he thought of beastmen he pictured those

creatures: animals that walked upright, bestial men with strangely distorted features and scraps of leather
and cloth for makeshift clothes. Some had crude armour theyd clearly ripped from their victims and pieced
back together. Weapons were the same way, crude or stolen and poorly tended.
Not these, however. The creatures stalking past were built like men, except for their long lashing tails, but
moved with the grace of cats, as well they should. Their bodies were covered in striped orange and black
fur, their heads those of tigers, but with more intelligent eyes, their hands tipped with claws, but able to
grasp weapons easily. These beastmen were nothing like hed imagined. Their armour was clearly
handmade, little more than tooled leather straps holding flat discs of metal and stone in strategic locations,
but handsome and effective. Their weapons were hatchets and short swords, and spears with blades of
glittering black stone and hafts of gleaming wood, far finer than Dietz had imagined beastmen capable of
creating.
Day of the Daemon, Tiger Beastmen of Ind

In the light of the lava, the denizens of this desperate land were revealed to Archaon. Even in
the blackness of the storm, Archaon could make out shapes in the darkness. The movement of
beings. Hundreds of them. Thousands. He was in an undiscovered realm, swarming with
savages. The darklight of his own doom didnt extend very far in such a place, however. In the
radiance of the crawling rivers of magma, however, Archaon saw that the bleak realm was
overrun with monsters. In the depths of the darkness, in the shrieking swirl and the infernal cold,
Archaon saw beastmen without number. These were not the weakling corruptions of man and
beast he had encountered in the forests of the Empire, nor the savage tribes of animal fury he
had yoked to his warmongering in the Shadowlands. These were daemonbreeds. Diabolical
fusions of fiend, beast and god knows what else. These shaggy beasts were sculptures in
midnight muscle, cloven of hoof and crowned with extravagant tangles of daemon horn. In the
ember twilight, their gore-smeared snouts and bestial fang-faces were contorted with the base
desires that ruled their monstrous kingdom. On those faces Archaon found his Dark Gods
rage and the barbaric tribal ambitions it served; the hang-dog suffering of such a wretched
existence and the animal indulgences that served to alleviate the afflictions of both mind and the
flesh. The ruinous drives of all living things were to be found in the swarming hordes of beasts
that plagued the storm-scathed wilderness.- Archaon Everchosen, Daemonbreeds

In culture the beastman is primitive and adversarial. They gather in tribal gatherings that, at times of
war, extend into larger brayherds. At the top of the tribal hierarchy is the beastlord with his brayshaman advisor. Then come the bestigors, followed by the gors, followed by Chaos warhounds, then
finally followed by the Ungors/mutants that exist on the tribal peripheral. As one can imagine for such a
brutal race, life is terrible on the bottom. This is a heavily Darwinist society and Beastmen naturally look
for every advantage- save those that offend the gods (usually) - to enhance their position.
Beastman culture is arguably dominated by two aspects; worship/fear of the gods and hatred of
civilization. As creatures of chaos Beastmen have closeness to the gods that none but the most

corrupted of men would possess, for they were literally born of it. Mutations among the brayherd shows
that chaos's influence is still common even in this day and age, too. As Chaos is inherently against order,
peace and sanctity it is common for beastmen to deliberately seek out any and all that might
represent such elements to defile and destroy.

A hundred grovelled before him now, horns lowered in supplication and tails curling up between
their goat legs. Behind them beasts of a purer form waited. These had none of the cursed taint of
humanity about them. They were four-legged and thick-snouted. Vicious horns curled
extravagantly from the thick bones of their skulls, and they bore tusks even bigger than those
carried by the sweet-fleshed but vicious-natured boars which also inhabited the forest.
What was striking about the creatures was not their wholesome animal appearance. It was the
contraptions into which they had been harnessed.
There was something about them which filled Gulkroth with an instinctive, unreasoning rage. A
growl rose unbidden within the depths of his throat as he studied them, and the creatures which
grovelled before him pressed themselves even lower down into the dirt of the forest floor.
Their lord calmed himself, although his feeling of disgust remained. It pained him to see the wild
wood of the forest sawn and sectioned into ordered construction. It pained him even more to see
the wheels. Of all of mans devices this was one of the most repellent in its precision and
symmetry.
And yet they are useful, Gulkroth thought, forcing himself to reason with the same vicious
persistence with which a man will flog an exhausted horse. If only such noble beasts were not
beholden to them.
He prowled over to where one of the quadrupeds stood between the traces of its chariot. It had a
vicious glint to its eye and the long, chipped horns of an animal that has killed often and well.
Although it weighed perhaps half a ton it whimpered in terror at Gulkroths approach.
The lord looked at it, and in that moment the animal fell calm, mesmerized by his awful presence.
Gulkroth turned back to look at the two-legged beasts who cowered before their mounts.
Who thought to build these things? he asked, the snarl of his voice shredding through the last of
their composure. None answered although slowly, like fleas leaving a corpse, the herd sidled
away to abandon one of their brothers. Soon he was alone in a circle of isolation.
Gulkroth waited for the miserable creature to raise its head. The proud curls of its horns and the
bovine bulges of its muscle were in sharp contrast to its eyes. They darted hither and thither, as
panicked as rats in a cage.

Then it hit Gulkroth. With an urge that came as suddenly as a flash of summer lightning he
despised the taint of humanity in this creature as much as he despised it in himself. With a
bellow of animal rage he sprang forwards and, disdaining the device of his axe, he seized the
creatures horns and lifted it from the ground.
It struggled for its survival, all deference gone as it gouged at its lord with sharp hooves.
Gulkroth ignored its pathetic attack as he twisted the head back from the dangling body and took a
deep, tearing bite out of its neck. His teeth sheared through muscle and bone, artery and cartilage,
and even as its black blood spurted out over its lords face the creatures head was torn from its
still-struggling body.
Gulkroth licked the blood from his muzzle and turned back to his victims cowering brethren.
I have seen these things before, he growled. Keep them well maintained. When the time comes,
I will hurl you into the enemy and you will smash him. Then we shall all feast on meat even
sweeter than that of our own kind. Do you understand?
There was an immediate yapping chorus of assent and Gulkroth, enjoying the taste of their leaders
blood even as he regretted giving in to the impulse to kill him, turned back to the sprawling anthill
of the main encampment.-Broken Honour

Nature too is included in this list, for Beastmen are as unnatural as they come. Once found they will
defile these sites however they can whether it is through the base act of defecating everywhere and
trampling over everything to physically tearing it down. As one might expect they engage in basically
every concept we would find shameful or repugnant for inhibitions do not exist to them. They are
cannibals all, for they believe that by consuming the flesh of whom they kill they inherit its strength.
Their hatred of civilization, particularly man's, is another key aspect of their culture. Beastmen have
vivid racial memories of the time in which they roamed the planet unhindered and man was just a prey
creature, and want to return things to this way. Cities, Castles, and settlements, all technological
innovations, are all a deep affront to Beastmen, both for they are what
allow man to have such an advantage over their kindred and that they are
naturally an anathema to Chaos, as is all progress. As such they, or at
least the Empire variant, rarely build anything, and even when the Great
Beastman Gorthor ordered them to build battering rams do so his
beastmen revolted as often as possible, and Gorthor was only barely able
to accomplish the task. Since then there is no example of the Beastmen
building anything significant and indeed fighting in large towns or cities
only serves to confuse, disorient and enrage them.

All Beastmen are capable of Frenzy, a state of mind where they lose all rational thought and blindly
rush the enemy, using everything at their disposal- brute strength, claws, teeth, weapons ect- to kill. In
this state any Beastman that gets in their way is attacked or killed even if this is later regretted. However
it makes them more ferocious in combat, and even more durable than a man, with some able to
sustained truly impressive injuries before getting pulled down.
A huge beastman, taller than any man, was almost upon him when Richel flicked open the pan again.
He didnt even wait for the order to give fire but pointed his handgun at the creatures chest and pulled
the trigger, striking the pan with the glowing fuse.
The creature had its axe lifted up in the air when the blast of Richels gun knocked it back. It regained its
balance, unaware that the handgunners shot had gone straight through its heart, and took another
stride forward, roaring in fury and swinging its axe.
Richel barely had time to see it reappear through the blackpowder smokeand cursed himself for
missing at such short rangea curse that was cut abruptly short as the creatures axe caught him under
the chin and split his face open in a spray of snot and blood and gore. It threw the body back into Vostig,
who was desperately trying to clear his barrel.
When the body hit him and Vostig felt the warm slap which he later realised was part of Richels scalp on
his cheek, he looked up and saw the striding monster take a step towards him.
The enormous beastman opened its bloody snout and roared, and Vostig realized that there was nothing
he could do to defend himself. He stood paralysed as the great axe lifted high above his head. Holmgar
ran at the creature, screaming at the top of his lungs, and the creatures attention was diverted for an
instant. It batted Holmgar away, and turned back to Vostig, but Richels shot had been trueand as
Vostig stared at the thing that was about to kill him, he saw some strange wave of understanding hit the
maddened beast that its time had come.
The creature fell to the floor with a moan of dismay. Its horned head fell at Vostigs feet and the
handgunner felt a warm sensation running down his legs. Forged in Battle
Beastman have a natural skill with ambushing, particularly in the forests. This allows them to outflank
and sometimes surround enemies completely in this arena. However sometimes mistakes are made as
Chaos innovations (even tactics) are very unreliable. They might emerge delayed, find themselves
completely away from the battle or even emerge right in front of an already prepared enemy firing
line!
He cursed himself, as he finally recognized the ruin he had inadvertently wrought. The orderly column of
soldiers he had led into the Drakwald had devolved into a disorganised mass of men, milling about in a
wild battle beneath the trees. The Drakwald ate men as surely as did the beasts it sheltered beneath its
dark boughs, and staying within sight of one another was the only way of not losing men to the shadows
and false trails that blighted it. Even then it was no sure thing. How many men had he lost to the

Drakwald over the course of his time as elector count? A thousand? More? How many good men had he
fed unwittingly to the hungry dark?
The forest seemed to press close to either side of the rutted track. The path was a narrow, muddy thing,
barely wide enough for three men to march abreast. There was no space to form lines, no room for a
proper charge. He was suddenly aware of how stifling the silence was, beneath the crash of arms, and
how thick the dark beneath the trees was. It was as if the Drakwald were holding its breath. Unease
strangled his eagerness and he kicked his horse into motion. He needed to restore order, and swiftly.
I hope youre satisfied, old man, he thought bitterly. You know better! He began to bellow orders as he
rode, trying to shout over the din of battle. In his youth, hed had one of the best parade-ground voices in
the Empire, but age had dimmed his volume somewhat. The flush of combat was fading from him, and
he felt tired and old. Every joint ached and the runefang felt heavy in his grip, but he didnt dare sheathe
it. Not now.
The enemy was close. He saw that now, and he cursed himself for not thinking about it earlier. How
often had his men been led into just such an ambush? How often had they done the leading themselves?
Hed allowed his need for vengeance to blind him, and he could feel the jaws of the trap grinding shut
about him.

A long, winding note suddenly rose from the trees. The sound of it speared through his recriminations
and struck his gut like a fist. He jerked on the reins and turned his horse about, scanning the forest. More
terrible groaning notes slithered between the trees and rose above the canopy, piercing the stillness.
Brayhorns, he knew. The hunting horns of the warherds. Then, with a suddenness which defied reality,
the forest, so still before, was suddenly alive with the sounds of tramping hooves, rattling weapons and
snorting beasts.
Arrows hissed out from between the trees, punching men from their feet. Todbringer yanked his horse
about. He had to reach his men if they could form a shield-wall, they might manage an organised
defence, long enough perhaps to escape the trap hed led them into. But even as he galloped back
towards his warriors, the beastmen burst through the trees on all sides at a run, slamming into the
scattered column like a thunderbolt. There were hundreds of them, more than any shield-wall or line of
hastily interposed spears could hold back, and men and horses screamed as they died.
Todbringer howled in rage as he spurred his horse to greater speed. He crashed into the mass of snarling
beasts and the force of the impact sent the foe rolling and squealing as his horse trod on those too slow
to get out of the way. His runefang quivered in his grasp as he swept it out and chopped down on
upraised maws and clutching hands. For a moment he was adrift on a sea of snarling faces, jagged tusks
and rusted blades. He cursed and prayed and screamed, matching them howl for howl, as he hewed
about himself. Blood hung thick on the damp air, and it dripped into his armour and from his beard. Still
they swirled about him, a never-ending tide of bestial fury. He glimpsed his men falling beneath filthsplotched blades one by one, dragged down and reduced to bloody ruin.- Lord of the End Times

Contribution to the Legions of Chaos

Thanks to their commonality and extreme numbers, expect Beastmen to a count as a major
percentage of the Chaos force. They are going to be the basic "meat" of such an army, for what they
lack in ranged capability and armor they make up for in numbers, strength, and pure primal fury. They
are hunters, but not of the silent stealthy type, for they are usually incredibly loud and boisterous.
Rather the basic Ungors & Gors excel in surrounding and entrapping their prey, enclosing them in
horrific melee.
Once engaged Bestigors bully their way to the front, the equivalent of beastmen heavy armor.
Minotaurs, ever driven by hunger, rampage amok in the melee. Harpies swoop down and pick out those
that they can, carrying away the enemy weak and injured. All the while Bray-Shamans command from
the rear, empowering their engaged kin or unleashing terrible spells of their own.
Such tactics refer only to the basic beastherd. On the plains fast moving Centigors, Tuskagor and
Razorgor chariots rule the day. Should mass terror be the objective of a beastlord he can take the time
to summon a massive four-armed Ghorghon, a forest giant or insanity inducing Jabberscythe. Cygors will
appear to provide a counter for enemy magic users, who they specialize in hunting. This and more
Beastmen bring to the table, for they are at the forefront of all of Chaos's wars with order.

History, Groups and Culture

Northmen is a term that refers to the barbaric tribes of the Chaos Wastes, Norsca and the Eastern
Steppes. They are human, though far surpassing the peoples of the more civilized south in strength
and vigor. Living in the shadow of Chaos, the Northmen are born into the worship of the Gods of Chaos,
and few escape mutation in some form. Unlike the Southerners, those with mutations are looked on as
blessed by the gods, even if said mutations are horrible. Amongst the southern races, the men of the
North are commonly termed as 'marauders', for such is what they do when they take to their long ships
and travel to the coasts of the Empire and beyond.

Their earliest history has been lost in myth. Perhaps they were peoples who slowly moved north, or
perhaps they had always existed in these realms since the time of the Old Ones. At the very least it is
known that the Elves & Dwarfs fought them in the years prior to the ancient Sundering. Regardless to
the history-keeping figures of the South, it is enough to say that they have always been there, always
raiding and seeking to expand their domination over the Southlands.
Life for these people is always fast and brutal, with individuals over the age of thirty a rarity for the
tribes. They constantly war, if not with the Southerners then with each other and the horrors of their
land. To the men of Chaos, the Chaos Gods are an omnipresent point of their lives. They are entirely
dedicated to them and their service, offering regular prayers in their day to day life. For example raiding
party would naturally play to Tzeentch to guide their path over the oceans, Nurgle so the expedition
does not suffer from stamina problems, Khorne for skill in battle and Slaanesh to ensure the celebration
feast is particularly debauched.
Though many minor groups exist there are three prominent sub-groups for Chaos

THE NORSCANS

The Norse are a fierce

race who inhabit Norsca
to the far north of the
Old World. Like popular
representations of the
Vikings, they are an
exceptionally tall, fair or
red haired, and
powerfully built race of
warriors and are
considered to be the very
epitome of the followers
of Chaos. They sail the oceans of the world in longships (known commonly as 'wolfships' or 'dragonships,
referring to the ornamentation of their prows), raiding and pillaging in the names of the Chaos Gods and
for their own wealth. They are the most likely Chaos Warriors to be found attacking the Empire and
beyond due to their mastery of the sea and their insatiable thirst for battle. They are driven by an
ancient ancestral hatred of all southern races that dates back to the Age of Sigmar.
The Norscans are arguably the most civilized of the men of Chaos, having small cities, towns and a law
system that essentially amounts to an eye for an eye. Weguild and Blood feuds are common, and
thus the Norse fight almost as much among themselves as against the Southlings. However these are
still laws, showing that the Norse are the most "civilized" of the forces of Chaos, other than the Chaos
Dwarves. Along with the Chaos Dwarves and a few rare tribes they are perhaps the only ones with a
sense of industry, though one only capable of honor. Though savage they do have a system of honor,
and will respect enemies who show great strength or fortitude, spurning the weak. Cowards who run
away are shunned and hated in their culture.
In addition the merchant city-state of Marianburg has cultivated trading deals with the Norse that, while
extremely shifty and often resulting in betrayal, has led to some of the Southern Tribes possessing a
degree of civility, willing to hire themselves out as guards, mercenaries and tradesmen so long as the
price is right and the gods are not offended.

THE KURGAN
The Kurgans are a race of dark-skinned nomads native to the Eastern Steppes north of the Dark Lands
and Kislev and east of Norsca. The Kurgans are the most numerous race of northmen(with hundreds of
tribes), highly nomadic and equally capable fighters and travelers on horseback and on foot. Due to
their mobility and nomadic lifestyle, they are often the quickest to join a major Chaos incursion, usually
as scouts and outriders followed by larger, main forces. Despite this they are less often seen in the Old
World (both in peacetime and when invading) than the Norse, though Kurgan raids are fairly common in
Kislev. When raiding the Empire, the Kurgans are often allies of one of the Norse tribes. Indeed, the two

peoples maintain passable relations with each other, though the

Aeslings are known to constantly prey on Kurgan nomads.
The Kurgan are more primitive and savage then the Norse, and
lack even the bare-civilization of those people. So primitive are
they that they usually do not make use of even basic fire and
instead cook meat under their saddles. Unlike the Norse, they are
almost entirely nomadic. They have almost no industry, usually
relying on scavenging or trade with the Chaos Dwarves. However
they are excellent melee combatants, and most tribes compose of
extremely swift riders. They are arguably the most mutated and
inhumane of the three, particularly those that live North of Norsica.
Though they once had a great empire those days are long past and
for the most part the Kurgan spend their time fighting amongst each
other, only rarely invading South (or West/East) when an extremely
powerful chieftain units them.
-TONG
The Tong are an extremely fearsome tribe even by the standards of the Kurgan, whose raids and
incursions into other Kurgan territry always leads to a great exodus of Kurgan into other lands. In fact
they are probably the most feared of all of the peoples of the warriors of chaos. Two times the Tong
nearly wiped the Kurgan from their lands, and in neither case were they defeated conventionally but
instead withdrew mysteriously. Nowadays they are only seen in loose warbands and never appear as
a whole tribe, being elite horsemen and warriors of the Chaos Champions they align with. This tribe is
rumored to be half-daemon, and is more mutated than any other tribe.

THE HUNG

The Hung are an oriental race, shorter and

squatter than the people of Cathay but
otherwise resembling them. The Hung
inhabits the Chaos Wastes to the north of
Cathay and Naggaroth in the New World.
The Hung are an almost entirely nomadic,
primitive people who dont believe in basic
hygiene and rarely use fire. They are
excellent horsemen, and they breed tough,
small horses on their cold mountain slopes
which would survive where larger southern
warhorses would starve. They ride these

into battle when they attack the more civilized (if such can be said in the case of the Dark Elves) lands to
the south. The Hung are modelled in many ways on the Mongol tribes of the Middle Ages or the Huns of
an earliest time.
The Hung are the last known of the Chaos peoples, and not much is known about their culture save two
facts. The first is that they are notoriously fickle, legendary even among Chaos followers for never
honoring a bargain. In fact in Cathay the term Word of a Hung is used to denote a useless promise.
The second is that this fickleness and treachery applies to their own people, making it hard to form
lasting bargains among the various tribes. Only to the gods do they show true devotion and faith.

Contribution to the Legions of Chaos

The Northmen have appeared in their millions all over the
world to join Archaons inasion and, though perhaps not
quite as numerous as Beastmen, nevertheless form a solid
coare to Archaons armies. Primarily they are a melee
force with a grouping of marauders, powerful warriors and
knights of Chaos, as well as various other hero-centric
units. There is some variation of course to this rule, with the
Marauder horsemen of the Hung being noted ranged
specialists in the vein of the mongols. The Kurgan is a
mixture of Norsican melee-based and Hung ranged based
force, relying heavily on cavalry.
Alongside this they have many assisting tribes and
clandestine allies. These include corrupted ogres and trolls,
hulking giants, and all sorts of flying beasts. Even Chaos
Dragons can occasionally be found in their force.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a particular sort of tension. Every dwarf on the parapet, Slayer and
clansman alike, had a look of intense loathing on their faces. Mutters and curses slipped quietly into the air.
Felix looked from the dwarfs back to the devices, which he thought must be the war machines of the
enemy. The engines were harsh-looking things, heavy with what he thought were unnecessary scalloped
blades and scything edges. One was recognizably a cannon of some sort, while the second machine
appeared to be some form of bolt thrower. The ogres pulling them had the dull look Felix associated with
broken farm animals, beasts used to the lash and the chain. Regardless, they still looked fully capable of
ripping a man's head off with one twist of a meaty paw.
Felix wondered what it was about the machines that had set the dwarfs off, but before he could even attempt
to frame the question, the reason became obvious. Two squat figures stumped into view through the ruined
section of third wall to join the machines. They wore coats of dark, burnished mail and cuirasses of
complex design. Heavy helms sat on their squat heads, and great beards flared out from their jutting chins.
One carried a heavy glaive, while the other rested his palms on the butts of the two pistols holstered around

his waist. Their faces were twisted into expressions of brutish malice and cold-blooded glee as they surveyed
the obstacle before them.
Felix felt a rush of horror fill him as he stared at the twisted mockeries of dwarf-kind. His mouth felt dry
and he looked at Gotrek. The Slayer's teeth were exposed in a snarl that conveyed the millennia-old grudge
of the dwarfs for their corrupted kin. Felix had heard dark legends of such Chaos dwarfs, though he'd never
attempted to broach the subject with Gotrek, thinking the former merely a slanderous myth and not wanting
to antagonize the latter.
'Gotrek,' he said softly. 'Are they-?'
'The dawi zharr,' Gotrek spat.

History, Biology and Culture

Unfortunately precious little is known about early Dawi Zharr history, even among themselves. It is
known that they were once regular dwarves who went ever eastward to find greater despots of
minerals, eventually heading into land the Dwarves of the West considered tainted (in this preChaos age, that is a feat) and cursed. However the future Dawi Zhar then-kindly rebuffed the
warnings of their westward brethren, so concerned were they at the best mineral deposits. Then
came Chaos.
The exact line of events of what happened is mostly unknown, but what little has been revealed
suggests the Chaos Dwarves were nearly utterly destroyed in this time by the forces of Chaos. Only
their stubborn refusal to die and the finding of a new patron, Hashtut, saw them survive through
this dark time. Hashtuts influence slowly twisted these Dwarves, first teaching them to hate the
Dwarves of the West and their ancestor gods, and then subverting every aspect of Chaos Dwarf
society into the cruel state it is in today. When the regular Dwarves first discovered their Chaos
worshipping cousins they were so ashamed that they immediately purged all records of evidence of
Dawi Zhar clans, and evidence suggests that in those early years before the Elves even arrived in
the Old World the non-corrupted Dwarves made a serious attempt to put their corrupted kin down.
It failed.
At another point in their history, they succeeded in creating the Black Orc in an attempt to create an
orc smarter and more obedient to demands then the previous unruly lot. They half-succeeded, for
the Black Orc was indeed smarter however lacking in any obedience. These Black Orcs led a
massive grenskin rebellion which nearly gutted their whole civilization, only being saved at the last
minute by the betrayal of the Hobgoblins, causing other greenskins to despise them utterly. As a
result, many Hobgoblins joined the Chaos Dwarf legions, fighting under them as minions, overseers
and expendable troops.
Now their army expands to take over the world. Their philosophy is inherently against the
rapid expansion and overextension done by other Chaos followers but the slow, steady,
soulless drive of industry. Unlike the rest of Chaos, the Chaos Dwarves can hardly been seen
as chaotic in nature. What they do is rather orderly, and they are driven by cold calculation
and greed in all their endeavors. Not for them is the anarchy and madness of the human
followers of Chaos, the labyrinth schemes of the skaven, or the savagery of the Beastman.
In form the Chaos Dwarves are little different than regular Dwarves, being both short, stocky
and powerful. However the Chaos Dwarves notably bear evidence of corruption such as
horns sticking out of their foreheads or tusks emerging from their teeth. Some might even be
part stone, a curse left by their Hashtut.
The Chaos Dwarf share many of the same traits culturally with their non-corrupted brethren, only
inverted and twisted by malice. They value loyalty, stubbornness, oaths, kinship and industry. They
are also brilliant craftsmen. However they are utterly devoid of compassion and mercy and
indeed, want to enslave the entire world. Even Daemons are not immune from the Dwarfs

domineering desire, and the

daemonsmiths of Zhar are infamous for
deliberately summoning and binding
daemons to weapons in terrible rituals.
It might seem odd for a culture bound by
oaths but they are in fact treacherous to
the extreme. They follow the letter of
the oath, rather than the spirit, and
looking for loopholes is considered
perfectly acceptable (an oath you can
get out of is a weak oath, and not worth
holding to). Chaos Dwarf oaths are rare
things, presided over by entire armies
of archivists and those who argue how
valid it is.
The Chaos Dwarfs are the ultimate
imperialists, capable of acts of extreme
cruelty and malice in the name of
expansion and industry. They're twisted
pragmatists, acting on a skewed
practicality. Cruelty is used to instill fear,
because fear is a more efficient motivator
than kindness. And malice is only sensible,
when you live in a society like theirs. They
respect those who hold similar values, but they don't consider them equals--non-Dawi Zharr are
slave-races or soon to be slave-races.
They value the loyal as a tool--once the tool is no longer useful, it's replaced. A hierarchy of sorts
exists, with those on the bottom (hobgoblins, loyal servants, unrelated Chaos dwarfs) being the
most easily replaced and those on the top (Chaos dwarfs from the same clan) being the hardest.
They can form friendships, of a sort, but its a rare thing and usually more akin to a rivalry that
neither party truly wants to end.
Hobgoblins, the main servants of the Chaos Dwarfs, resemble taller, lankier goblins that
probably approach human stature. This race is normally clever but extremely cowardly and
self-serving, being little different than the Skaven in regards to infighting/backstabbing. They do
recognize the Dawi Zhar as overlords only thanks to extreme fear of them, and recognition that they
provide protection from other greenskins, who would love to kill them.

Contribution to the Legions of Chaos

On the base level the Chaos Dwarves are going to supply a vast arsenal that, while cheap for
them to build and inferior in quality to what they keep for themselves, is still vastly superior
to anything a Chaos human can build. They will provide a source of logistics and can

coordinate building projects (with tons of slaves) if need be. Too their Chaos Dwarf troops are
noticeably higher quality than most of the Chaos force (as Chaos Dwarfs equip themselves
with the best), and thus will be of aid on the battlefield. Hobgoblins provide the meat for a
Chaos Dwarf force, and can be used for cheap massed strikes or harrying the enemy with wolfriders.
By far their greatest contribution will be their various machines created in their horrific hellforges. These machines can be forged with a malevolent daemon inside, giving them extra power,
however even normal Chaos Dwarf machines are extremely deadly and dangerous. All but the
most powerful walls will fall before these machines, and whole enemy regiments can be
devastated by their use. Historically it was these machines that brought down the great walls
of Cathay during the End Times.

All Daemons and Warriors of

Chaos have the option to
take a blessing from one of
the gods, though doing so
precludes getting any from
the other gods. These
blessings, in the nature of
such beings, can have a
tendency to be doubleedged, offering great
battlefield advantages
though some strategic
disadvantages. For
mortals they might
occasionally pile onto one
another in terrible ways.
Sometimes the mortals
are accidentally mutated
by their gods, who don't
pay attention to the
amount of mutations being
heaped on.
Usually most of those
blessed with mutations can
expect them from their
patron god, though at times
the other gods take pity on them and bless them with their own mutations. However the Chaos
Gods are extremely capricious and fickle beings, who dish out rewards almost entirely on a
whim. Thus a Marauder Chieftain- who doesn't care at all about gifts of the gods- might be
rewarded over a loyal servant of 100 years. A Daemonologist who occupied the momentary
attention of a god might achieve more greatness then a Chaos sorcerer who has fought in that god's
name for countless years. Possibly the only position they employ an iota of sense towards is the
Daemon Prince, with aspirants usually requiring a great feat to achieve. Thus while a
Marauder Chieftain or other lowly individual might still achieve that vaunted rank, the Chaos
Champion/Sorceror is closer in position to the much desired daemon prince than any other.

The most common form of Chaos blessing is the so-called Marks of Chaos- individual tattoos or
markings that symbolizes the mark a particularly chaos god has on a given soul. Though many
tribes are unaligned, seeking to draw strength from all four and worshipping them in unison,
countless tribes have wholly dedicated themselves to one god and thus come with this mark.
Individuals also can choose to favor one god over all others.
Beastmen too can acquire the Marks of Chaos and of course all aligned daemons have one
mark or the other. This usually manifests in certain common traits, though with some variance
across unit types. Khornegors are beserkers with red pupils and braven sometimes metallic
skin. They usually carry more armor then other Beastmen and with more direct power. Slaangors
shave themselves in the manner of humans, and are adorned with jewelry and trinkets.
Naturally they are more sadistic and somewhat more agile then their Beastmen counterparts.
Pestigors reek of pestilence and sickness, possess only one horn, and have the extreme vigor
one would expect from Nurgle followers. Tzaangors have all sorts of interesting patterns and
designs that fluctuate rapidly.They possess the same benefit as humans do in the Mark of
Tzeentch.
For the profile below, assume that all human, daemon, or Beastmen units (barring
monsters) have a chance to come with a Mark of Chaos.

Khorne, as the god of war, blesses their endeavors in combat, leading to

both mortal and daemon followers becoming more violent and terrible
in combat. Physiologically this fills them with an unconquerable need
to shed the blood of their foes, to constantly war without end. In the
event of Daemons it also makes them physically stronger.
With a sweep of his axe, he smashed aside three halberds aimed at him, the
blow knocking the weapons from numbed hands. Reversing his strike, he
cleaved his axe into the neck of one soldier, decapitating him cleanly. The axe
blade carried on into the head of another, crumpling the steel helmet he wore in a spray of blood and
bone.
Backhanding his fist into the face of another, feeling the skull crush beneath the blow, Hroth
began to laugh. He waded into the midst of the enemy's formation, swinging his axe before him. With
each blow another enemy died. In these close quarters, the enemy's halberds were useless, and they
reached for short swords and daggers. Each blade that flashed towards Hroth was met with brutal
force - arms were hacked from bodies, chests caved in and heads smashed to bloody ruins. Those
weapons that did reach him shattered against his flesh, or were turned aside by his armour. Olaf the
Berserker had dropped or lost his weapons, and ripped a man's throat out with his bare hands. The
other Khazags laid about them with abandon, their brutal axes and swords carving through the

Empire men with ease. Blood splattered all over Hroth, and he felt the hot metallic taste on his lips. He
rejoiced at the slaughter, hacking left and right.
With a roar, he raised his axe above his head in both hands and brought it smashing down
onto the shoulder of an enemy soldier, the blow carving its way through breastplate and bone, cutting
him almost in two. Kicking the body away, Hroth swung around in search of a new enemy, but could
find none. He stood, drenched in gore, breathing heavily. The ground was littered with severed limbs
and broken Empire soldiers, and the air was heavy with the stink of death. Several dozen soldiers had
been slaughtered for the loss of three of his own. He resisted the urge to swing his axe into a Khazag
standing nearby. Warhammer Mark of Chaos

Tzeentch, god of magic, offers his followers the chance to

become more reliable mages and even alter reality somewhat.
It is in this way that followers of Tzeentch are harder to hit in
combat then their forms would bely, as realities course gets
altered somewhat. It is the manipulation of probability, and it
can ensure that what normally would have a 50/50 chance
of hitting might instead be 45/55. Those champions
blessed with the most potent forms of Tzeentchi gifts
might be far higher. However probability can only go so far
and the more certain an attack is going to hit the less effect
the mark will have. In other words even Tzeentchi champions
have to find another form of defenses if the subject of a firing line barrage!
Magic users of Tzeenth can cast their magic with slightly more reliability than of Nurgle and
Slaanesh . However the winds of fate are fickle and these blessings don't always hold,
sometimes fading or changing randomly, for that is the nature of Tzeenth.

Upon reassembling the mess, he discovered that the suit of

armour had an infestation. A cloud of tiny black flies so
tiny, they were all but impossible to make out individually.
All attempts to rid the rank plate of the infestation failed.
When still, the flies settled and accumulated on the armour,
making Archaon one with the darkness in poor light. When
the Chaos warrior moved, the disturbed flies formed a haze
drifting about him like a miasma or black mist. In combat
Archaon found that the mist distracted his enemies and
masked some of his movements and evasions. Over time, the
dark templars intentions to rid himself of the infestation

faded, adapting his ducks and weaves to the mists movements.-ARCHAON: EVERCHOSEN
The pestilence god offers his followers various afflictions and a swarm of flies that surround
them constantly, which has the combat effect of making them difficult to target in combat.
Naturally Daemon and mortal follower both are often plague vectors from which various diseases
are spawned ranging from the cold to truly devastating diseases. While good against the enemy,
there is the potential for these forces to spread diseases among their allies, which they wouldn't
mind doing.

Thanks to all the terrible sensations they endure those with the
mark of Slaanesh are often near immune to fear and panic, as they
have already experienced the best and worst sensations life (or
un-life!) has to offer. For Daemons Slaanesh goes one step further
and bestows upon them the supernatural skill with the notable
application to bypass most armor.

The Chaos Gods can be said to generous, willing to dole out all kinds of blessings to their followers.
However they are also fickle, sometimes bestowing negative gifts or overloading a followers with
so much that they become a chaos spawn. These gifts include mutations, arms/armor, pet
beasts, mounts, gifts of will (such as freedom from pain) and even daemonic titles.
For the most part, these apply to Champion level characters including captains of individual
Beastmen/Human units( such as Marauder chieftain). Lore wise however there is nothing stopping
particularly notable grunts from receiving such blessings!

Mutations: Just about every

mutation you can imagine can and
has been given to the mortal
followers of Chaos and for the most
part every Man of Chaos possesses at
least one (though usually minor).
These could include the ability to
breathe fire, magical ability (for
sorcerors), scaly skin, a cyclopean
or additional eyes/limbs, ability
to bleed acid ect. Witchsight is a
notable example seen commonly in
the North, which allows the mutant
to see the existence and absence
of the Winds of Magic. It might
include some purely cosmetic
changes like different eye/skin
colors, making the person in
question furry, or grow an additional
nose. Still others might be harmful
like making the character in
question stupid or brainless,
turning feet into slugs, turning
blood into excrement ect. Anyone
acquires too many mutations turns
into either a Chaos Spawn or, more rarely, a Forsaken.
Adolph spun around with a knife in his outstretched hand. The slash streaked at Dieters belly. He
flung himself backwards, narrowly avoiding the stroke, but the frantic effort robbed him of his
precarious balance and sent him staggering. Begrudging the moment it would take to rise, Adolph
snarled the opening words of the spell that hurled shadow blades, and his single self-splintered into
several.
Dieter could almost have laughed. Apparently it wasnt a severe enough handicap that he had to
fight when he was tired. His eyes needed to resume playing tricks on him as well.
Dark missiles leaped from the hand of the Adolph acting in advance of all the others. Dieter
attempted to dodge but knew he wouldnt manage it. He was still off balance, and the attack flew too
fast.
The first set of darts blinked out of existence partway to the target. As did the next, launched from
the fingertips of another Adolphs whipping arm. So did the third. It was only the last flight of missiles
that travelled far enough to reach Dieter. He had in fact sidestepped quickly enough to evade those,

and they hurtled harmlessly by. His multiple selves collapsing into a single image once again, Adolph
goggled in manifest surprise that the attack had missed.
Dieter was just as surprised, but at least he thought he suddenly understood how it had happened.
Hed surmised that his third eye sometimes saw a trail of after images a person or object in motion left
behind, but hed been mistaken. In actuality, it was peering into the future, providing glimpses of what
was about to happen an instant before it did.
It was an ability he might conceivably have turned to good advantageexcept that, now that he
finally understood it, his altered vision reverted to normality.
The Enemy Within, Example of a Third Eye mutation

Arms/Armor: In addition to Chaos armor made by the Chaos Dwarfs the recipient may receive
various magically enhanced weapons. For mortals this might be a daemonic sword like a hel or
plagueblade. Armor might include a pendulant that moderately manipulates fate around the user.
Example Blade of Blood: The Blade of Blood is a sword that contains a portion of Khornes almighty
rage and hatred. Its trike not only is exceptional at crushing armor and flesh, but souls as well.
Rarely this might include a very powerful artifact such as a Rock of Inevitability.
Goodbye, champion,' whispered Sudobaal, and unleashed the power contained within him. The
champion leapt forwards, but was not halfway across the cavern when the power struck him. It should
have ripped through his flesh, rending it from his bones before sending him screaming into the Realms
of Chaos, but the blue flames washed over him without touching him at all, passing around him and
never getting within an inch of his flesh. Hroth could feel the heat and power of the spell that should
have ended him, but it did not touch him.
With a gasp, the sorcerer fell back. Hroth emerged from the blast unscathed, but he took only two
steps before he dropped to his knees, hissing in pain. His massive axe clanged to the stone floor, and his
hands clawed at his neck. The flesh was bulging strangely, as if something within was struggling to
escape. His head twitched to the side, and a series of brass spikes suddenly ripped through his flesh
from within. Blood poured down the inside of his armour as the spikes continued to push out from
within his neck, followed by a heavy metal ring. Finally, the pain gone, Hroth stood. Sudobaal crouched
on the floor, staring in disbelief.
Hroth reached up a hand to touch the spiked collar that had emerged from within his flesh to encircle
his neck. Then he grinned, and turned his burning eyes towards Sudobaal with a shrug.
'A collar of Khorne.' gasped the sorcerer. Bestowed by the Blood God upon some of its favoured
daemons, the collar of Khorne was a powerful artefact that protected the wearer from harmful magic.
In desperation, Sudobaal spat a curse at Hroth, and a multitude of black, smoky figures appeared
around the champion of Khorne, their red eyes filled with hatred. They reached towards the champion
with long clawed hands to claim his soul, but they could not touch him, and recoiled from him in pain.

He swatted at them with his axe as he strode towards the sorcerer, and their insubstantial forms
dissipated into the air.
-Mark of Chaos, Example of Collar of Khorne in action.
Pet Beasts: The recipient might receive a hound or minor daemonic servant, who are bound to the
masters will and can freely exist in the real world so long as the master does. Otherwise this might
include mounts such as Juggernauts.

Gifts of Will : A follower of the plague

god or Slaanesh might become immune to
pain, while that of Khorne might
experience a bloodrage that he could
never experience on his own. Other, rarer,
mutations include supernatural charisma
or intelligence.
Daemon Title/Daemonhood: The very
rarest mutation or gift, only a handful out
of many thousands of active seekers
could ever come close to this (and almost
always only men, as Chaos Gods dont
really care about Beastmen) . The
receiving of Daemonic Titles is usually a
sign the applicant may become a Daemon
Prince. However Beastmen never
become Daemon Princes and if they get
close they are turned into Chaos spawn
instead.

Warhammer, as a tabletop game, is played in measurements of inches that reflect scaled down
versions of the massive battles in Warhammer Fantasy. This is a pragmatic decision, as no one
could afford the tens of thousands of models that would otherwise be required or the vast distances
that such battles occur in Warhammer lore. The proper model to scale ratio for Warhammer
Fantasy is illustrated in the Appendix 2 section of the 5th edition rulebook, also this is a dated
reference.
According to the Appendix every inch in tabletop is equal to ten meters in real life, and thus
the longbows capable of shooting 24 inches have an effective range of 240 meters in real life. A
cannon shooting at 48 inches can be said to have an effective range of 480 meters. In addition the
same scale states that every model in a regiment (not heroic characters) can be considered to equal
ten for the purposes of lore.
For the purposes of this profile I will use three ranged systems. I will use a combination of real
world ranges with the ranges given in the game to calculate
Maximum Range: This is considered the maximum range a projectile can travel before either
stopping or at least slowing down past the lethal speed it would need. In general, for medieval
weapons or their kin, this range is considered 2x or sometimes 3x the effective range. A target
hit in the span of distance between Maximum and Effective range might possibly be hit
Effective Range: The ranges used within the Warhammer tabletop can lore wise be considered the
effective or maximum effective range of the weapon in question. The U.S. military defines
maximum effective range as The maximum distance at which a weapon may be expected to be
accurate and achieve the desired effect. Maximum Effective Range does not mean
guaranteed hit within that range as this is affected by shooter accuracy, evasion of the would-be
victim, environmental conditions etc. In addition different races have certain attributes that might
affect this range further, like how a skilled Elven archer might achieve accurate shots even above a
weapons nominal max range.
To determine the effective and maximum ranges, I will use a mixture of real world and tabletop
measurements.
Preferred Range: Psychology more than anything else this signifies what range the unit, by its own
preference, would choose to be in. A melee oriented foe equipped with a ranged weapon would, by
choice, shoot off a round or two before charging into melee or even forgo ranged completely.
Included in this rank are obviously everything Khorne. Meanwhile an enemy with a Ranged
preference would stay in the rear firing until they ran out of ammunition or ordered into melee.
This could be for a myriad of reasons such as regiment training, equipment or even general
cowardice! Those with a neutral preference can be considered fine in either

Mobility: 5 (Faster than a man)

Training/Experience: 2-3
Max Range: 360 meters
Effective Range: 180 meters
Preferred Range: Melee
BASIC DESCRIPTION
The Ungors are one of the most common forms of Beastman. Unlike other forms of the faction,
these Beastmen lack the thick hide and long horns of the other variants, with the horns for this
beastman being likened to short stubs. This is in part because they are composed primarily of

rejected human mutants and the weakest stock of "natural born" Beastmen. Nevertheless they are
still exceptionally fast, strong and speedy by human standards.
The life of an ungor is truly horrific. They are held in contempt for their short horns by other
beastmen and are always last in line for food, water and loot. In fact when food is short they are
cannibalized. Situated farthest from the campfire they often freeze during the winter, or else are
preyed upon by the warhounds, harpies and spawn that sometimes roam the edges of the
encampment. Other times Gors will simply kill one for the flimsiest of excuses.
Naturally, such a life offers naught but constant pain and an eventual violent death, which each
Ungor instinctively knows. This has turned them into spiteful creatures, full of rage and hatred
towards the rest of life that surpasses the rest of their kind. They are far more likely to torture than
a regular Beastman, and sometimes the scout version will even sidetrack campaigns to take the
time to take out their hate on a hapless farmer or something.
While most Ungors are spearmen, there does exist a variant that chooses to fight from afar with
bows. This is unique among Beastmen, which by and large holds ranged weaponry with contempt
(this is another reason Ungors are not considered true Beastmen by the Gors). It is the job of these
Ungor Raiders to scout the enemy, find hidden units, useful geographical positions, and provide
valuable intel to allow the Beastman commander to surround and destroy the enemy. In battle they
attempt to harass the enemy as best they can and hopefully target weak units, though sometimes
they give into their natural inclination for melee combat.
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: Ungors can loot all sorts of weapons such
as clubs, rusted weaponry etc. Some variants from
other lands, like the Daemonbreed of the South
pole, might use an exotic weapon, like a pike.
However a sharpened wooden spear with a
rusted iron head seems to be the most common
weapon seen amongst this breed.
Ungor Raiders favor a shortbow, with a backup
handweapon available. This type of bow can be
reloaded quickly and is cheap to create, but has
less ranged and doesnt hit as hard as the longbow.
Defenses: Ungor spearmen sometimes carry
crude wooden shields . Occasionally they might
successfully loot a helmet or something menial.
Ungor Raiders have no defense.
== ADDITIONAL LOADOUT ==

Ungors are the closest thing Beastmen have to logistical support, as it is they who carve runes,
build crude huts, and fix broken weapons with whatever means they have available.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 1-2
Max Range: Hurled Weapons

Effective Range: Melee

Preferred Range: Melee
Of the actual beastmen(for Ungors are not considered such by their brethren) the Gors are the
most common and basic archtype. In the area around the Empire they take the form of having a
goat's head and legs, with the torso of a man, though as mentioned earlier this is not universal
everywhere. They are more powerfully built than the Ungor, with gouging horns, strength far in
excess to a man, and a bestial rage that is ever bubbling below the surface.
Like the Ungor the Gor's role can be divided twofold. In any battle a large portion of them would
attack the front, serving as a powerful assault force as well as a (unwitting) screen for the
Bestigors. Their loud braying, brawl, bark and stamping means it is hard for the enemy not to see
evidence of their presence, however they can be somewhat stealthy when they need to be. While
running into combat, Gors often push their smaller cousins out front to take the missile hits, but in
melee the opposite is true, with gors pushing through ungors who hit between the gaps with spears.
While a portion assaults from the front another portion, along with the ungors, tries to encircle
the foe. Though this sometimes results in failures as unreliable scouts get them lost it is just as
common that the Beastmen emerge on the flanks or even rear of the enemy!
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: Like the Ungors the Gors are
shown with often rusted, crude and
antiquated weaponry. These include large
clubs, axes, hammers, flails, maces, or
giant cleavers. These can be dual wielded
if they are not exceptionally large. Also
over time they will acquire and use looted
weaponry, with rarer elements (Ind
Beastmen) using rarer weapons.
Gors are boastful of their horns, and in
anticipation for battle will polish, sharpen
and smear these horns with poison or
decayed animal matter for use in battle.
Defenses: While the Gor might sometimes
strap scraps of armor onto themselves
they generally rely on their thick hide and
natural durability. The former can offer
some protection at least from low
penetration arrows. Sometimes they may sport a wooden shield.

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: 5
Max Range: 40 meters Thrown weapons (some exceptions)
Effective Range: 20 meters.
Preferred Range: Melee
The north. The north. Always the north. Out of the north they came, riding the storm. The rough wool
cloth of their sails knew it. The rotting timbers of their clinkered hulls knew it. The marauders knew it
in their hot bones and salt-stained flesh. This was no natural tempest. A wretched squall that had
slammed the northmen from their bloody course and swept them south before gales serrated like their
weapons, and rain fell like pellets of frosted iron. A blessing from the north. From the Wastes. From the
Powers allowed to be.
Vargs, far from home. Like fire on the water, they lived for the basest expression of their miserable
existence. War wherever it could be found; women and the favours that could be ripped from them,

and the cruel laughter that could be drawn from their bellies in the face of calamities wrought. When
not engaged in such mordant pursuits, the northmen might have remembered to eat or sleep or attend
to their weapons, their vessels or the monstrous darkness to which they had pledged their lives. Their
names were made up of consonants that cut the mouth and their hearts were hollow and black. Some
bore the ghastly afflictions of their calling but most were ugly enough before being grizzled of limb,
scarred of flesh and ragged of beard. They cursed the elements and spat in the face of Manann, god of
the seas for his free passage. They honoured their patron Powers with action. They honoured them
with the wolfish howls they roared at the tumultuous skies, as their boats cut through the range of
mountainous waves before them and revealed the glint of torches and lanterns. The coast of some
victim nation. The darkened shore.
As the storm smashed them on, lightning seethed through the sky. The world was fit to break. The
furious flashes revealed a shale beach. On the shore sat a collection of beached fishing boats, rocking in
the storm. Beyond lay a fishing village. Innocent. Provocative. Vulnerable. The barbarians stood in
their dripping furs and spiked armour. They could already feel the spray of hot blood across their
faces. The screams and the begging that aroused them so, soothing the mind and ear. The ache of
omnipotence flooded their being. Hands stain-speckled with death reached for the tools of their trade
wicked blades, slender axes and spear shafts of saturated gore. They were the storm. The sudden and
sickening eruption of forces unknown upon the helpless and afeared. The stinking and smoking ruin
that their progress left in its path the northmens advertisement to the world. They were there. They
robbed. They ravaged. They murdered. And they lived. Archaon : Everchosen
What a civilized man is to one of the tribesmen of the Northern Wastes, a sheep is to a wolf. These
men endure tough, barren landscapes filled to the brim with terrible monsters, malevolent demons,
warlike rival tribes and other, nameless threats. To survive in such a lifestyle is going to breed an
exceptionally hardy man, for the weak quickly die. And, thanks to the closeness of the realms of
chaos, one extremely dedicated to the gods.
Of the so-called "Warriors of Chaos" the Chaos Marauders form the most common contingent, for in
war countless tribes flock together to raid. Natural born fighters all Chaos Marauders have raided
from Lustria to distant Cathay and are rightly feared across the world as a result. They are
incredibly hardy individuals, and in battle act with a natural savagery that surpasses any from the
"civilized realms. In fact in 1 vs. 1 combat a single Marauder can usually take on several of his
basic state trooper equivalent (of the Empire) in single combat.
Though capable of careful, strategic planning while raiding, in pitched battle these Northmen are
most known for rushing fearlessly towards enemy lines, often ignoring horrific causalities in
doing so. To the Marauder this makes sense, for retreat shames the warrior in the eyes of the gods
and their servants and what material punishment can be worse that eternal damnation? The big,
hulking champions that lead them further exemplify this characteristic by carrying many scars and
trophies taken from past conflicts. So dedicated to glory are they that they seek out any
champions to battle, and cannot refuse them in turn.
However the weakness with most Marauder tribes is, while individually each may be worth several
of the enemy, this does not necessarily translate into advantage in formation fighting. Lacking

room to swing their weapons, crowding up against one another, facing multiple weapon points at
once and unable to adapt to the Southerners disciplined walls marauders are often at a
disadvantage in these situations.
Marauder tribes are numerous and diverse, with countless variations to play. For example some
might run naked screaming emaciated into battle, while another is full of Were-kin, or another even
fights with pikes in the manner of the Cathayans. The profile above represents the average of the
Marauders as shown by Empire invasions.
. Under their eastern warlord, Fengshen Ku, the Hundun marauder clan belonged to the Dreaded Wo
tribe and were made up of mounted members of the respected sword clans and their retainers that
formed hordes of pike-wielding supporters. With their black, lacquered armour, pairs of curved long
swords and iron masks forged in expressions of horror and dismay Fengshen Ku and the sword clan
of the Dreaded Wo were a dark and determined force. Archaon had been told by Vayne that the
Hundun very much resembled the celestial warriors of the Dragon Kingdom, manning the empirespanning wall of the Great Bastian, which kept the marauders of Chaos at bay.- Archaon : Everchosen
The Norse are among those who display a great deal of diversity in their armies. They can deploy
bow-wielding hunters, who are often outcasts used to living in the inhospitable wilds of Norsica.
During campaign they are used as both scouts and minor ranged support. While women can be seen
frequently in any such unit division, shield maidens seem to be exclusively female. These are
disciplined warriors, who while lacking in strength of their male counterparts make up for it in
tactics, marching into battle in great shield walls. Huskarls are elite warriors of the Jarls, heavily
armored and much like the real world Viking Huskarls.
Finally the legendary Ulfskald are crazed beserkers who march into battle armored only with a
loincloth and sometimes a shield, but are given viscious weapons and drugs that drive him to such
levels of combat frenzy and bloodlust that makes even Orks look tame by comparison (Knights of
the Blazing Sun) . These warriors are so bloodthirsty they are described as foaming in the mouth,
incapable of any coherent thought, but in return for incredible pain resistance. While they might
die later, this almost immunity allows them to continue fighting on through multiple arrowheads
stuck in the body, great falls and even disembowelment.
He saw a massive, near naked savage with three arrows protruding from his tattooed flesh take a
sword thrust to the chest as he scrambled over the battlements, but even that didn't stop him. With
foam spilling from his mouth, he hacked the head from a knight's shoulders, sending it flying down to
the ground inside the castle walls, far below.- Knight of the Realm

== LOADOUT ==
Offensive: Hand Axes,
maces, swords and the
like can normally be
expected within their
arsenal. Sometimes they
can be seen with large
flails, great axes, throwing
spears, massive hammers
or two handed swords.
Lore wise a handful of
hunters accompany every
warband, armed with
makeshift bows. Variants
from across the world
exist, such as pike
wielding Dreaded Wo or
the werekin of the plains.

Defensive: Usually they

just wear fur, but at times
they can equip large
wooden shields or leather
armor. Some are
disciplined enough to
form shield walls in case
of attack by superior
missiles.

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: 5-7
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Chaos Warriors are living weapons, beings whose skin has fused with the armor they wear.
Capable of trudging hundreds of miles without stop, existing without food, sleep or water, and with
monstrous strength and ferocity Chaos Warriors are popularly considered to be Fantasys Space
Marines (Prior to Age of Sigmar).
Every member of a marauder tribe is a fighter, yet among every tribe there are a few who stand out
above the rest. At a certain point in time a Chaos marauder might be offered a suit of chaos armor
as a reward of their service. Such armor, though incredibly durable, comes at a terrible cost for in
donning this armor even once ensures that it can never, ever be taken off. The pleasures and needs
of the flesh from sleep, eating, drinking, and other comforts are now foreign to him. Only the need
to spill blood and the vague, hopeless promises of daemonhood keep them going. Many of
these warriors wander aimlessly until they meet another person or monster, in which their spirit
returns briefly and they quickly engage in battle.

A Chaos Warrior is a confident match of several of his contemporaries at once in non-formation

fighting, with some depictions showing one to be equal to eight or more. Though they do lose
some of their effectiveness in formation fighting a Chaos Warrior nevertheless is a hardy foe even
there, for his armor is formidable. As the only true solace of this warrior is the fulfillment of
slaughter, naturally the call of Archaeon to war on the decadent southern kingdoms has been
answered by these warriors wholeheartedly. Whole Legions have arisen to destroy the civilized
world once and for all.

Braced though it
was, the Empire
square almost
crumpled beneath
that charges sheer
brute force. Spears
shattered as they hit
daemon-forged
armour, Nulnwrought swords
wasted their force on
shields or thickfurred cloaks. In
return, the axes and
maces of the
northlanders cut
deep into flesh,
battered aside sword
and shield to hack
and pulp the flesh
beyond. Most of the
Chaos warriors
fought with little
thought to their own
defence, casting
aside their shields to
bring a second blade
to bear, or even to
strike the foe with a
mighty, gauntleted
fist. They were disdainful of the weak men of the south, and little wonder, for it took two such men to
hold a single northlander at bay, and at least one other to have any chance of slaying the brute.Archaon: End Times

== LOADOUT ==
Offensive: Hand Axes, maces, swords and the like can normally be expected within their
arsenal. Sometimes they can be seen with large flails, great axes, massive hammers, two handed
swords, or halberds. They are considered physically stronger than normal humans.
Defensive: Crafted by the master forgers of the Dawi Zhar, the Chaos Dwarves bind a tiny piece of
Chaos to the steel plate. Chaos Armor actively shapes itself based on the wielder's inner
corruption, and incorporates mutations, gifts and alignment (of the gods).Such armor is described
as capable of shrugging off arrows, bolts and other mundane projectiles while fending off
spears and certain swords. However, guns and zweihandlers are consistently shown capable of
penetrating or even tearing through the armor. . Some Chaos Warriors also come with shields.
Thus far, the arrows of the Elves had only felled two of the heavily-armoured warriors stoically
advancing towards the spear company that held the Elven battleline. Moments later, another of the
Chaos brutes collapsed, a shaft protruding from his helms eye socket. Eldaria immediately recognised
the ashen cloaks of Nagarythi shadow warriors. They had taken up position in the copse of trees to her
left and had begun to send forth a hail of silverwood arrows. She led her knights in a wide arc to come
upon the Chaos warriors from behind, noticing with fierce pride that her fellow Reavers had
regrouped and were sweeping around the right flank to surround their foes with a keen, predatory
instinct. Eldarias Reavers continued to assail the Chaos warriors at range until they had emptied their
quivers. Their rearward position ensured that their arrows met with much greater success by virtue of
circumnavigating the huge tower shields that protected their targets to the front. Only half of the
Elves deadly adversaries now remained, and even their indomitable courage was starting to wane.
The time to strike was at hand. Standing up in her stirrups, Eldaria drew her elegant ithilmar
longsword and raised its high for all of her fellow Elves to see. Whispering a silent prayer to Asuryan,
she swept her blade down to signal the charge. As one, both companies of Reaver knights charged,
hitting the Chaos warriors from the flank and rear, even as the spear company advanced to engage
them directly.
A bloody melee soon broke out as the wave of Elves crashed into the black-armoured wall of Chaos
warriors. The spears of the Reavers, finely-crafted tips powered by the swiftness of their steeds and the
angle of their attack, took a heavy toll as they punched through exposed joints in the armour of their
targets. Yet despite the momentum of their attack, the Elves were soon hard-pressed. Every Chaos
warrior was a purebred killer, his strength and capacity for slaughter augmented beyond mortal ken
by the unholy blessings of the Dark Gods. Against these relentless slayers, the Elves were little match.
Within moments, a dozen brave Asur had been carved to bloody ruin, their elegant scale mail scant
protection against the terrible power of the Chaos warriors. Warhammer Vanguard Clash

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 3
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Once upon a time proud Chaos

Warriors, Forsaken know the
fickleness of chaos better than
any- or would in the rare moments
they can descend past the
animalistic haze that dominates
their mind. The Forsaken have
been gifted by Chaos so many
times that there is little left of the
individual, only a bestial husk in
plate armor. It is enough that the
other, saner Warriors of Chaos can
goad them into battle, usually only
doing so with sacrifices and
appealing to the Forsakens vague
memories of glory and conquest to
get these warriors to follow the
Warhost.
A Forsaken is a random collection
of mutations that is often just one such away from turning into a Chaos Spawn .Already these
warriors manifest tentacles, extra limbs or heads, claw hands, warped feet, fang-like mouths and
more. Sometimes they have mutations that show which god they once worshipped and other times
they do have purely negative ones, such as mutations that turn much of their brains to mush,
hampering their ability to operate effectively on the battlefield.
In battle Forsaken display no tactical acumen, and immediately upon taking sight of the enemy
charge. Weapons are disdained as the Forsaken uses only its hideous mutations to rip the enemy
apart. In this way they are little better than the Chaos Warhounds that surround the encampment
and are utterly immune to fear.
== LOADOUT ==

Offensive: Forsaken use their own bodies in combat, relying on poisonous fangs, lashing
tentacles, razor talons and terrible claws. They are also stronger than normal humans, able to
physically rip one into pieces.
Defensive: See Chaos warrior, though decayed and mutated. Sometimes the Forsaken will be
mutated to possess regeneration.
Forsaken are blessed with enhanced versions of the Marks of Chaos. Those of Khorne possess
hatred towards all things, Tzeentch heavy magic resistance, Nurgles Forsaken are so mutated that
they can invoke fear in their foes and those of Slaanesh are far more agile then other Forsaken. Such
is the silver lining of the position.

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: 2
Max Range: 400 m
Effective Range: 240m
Preferred Range: Right behind you! Or at
bow range
Among a people that normally is given to
infighting (Orcs and Goblins) the Hobgoblin
are so despised and hated that without the
Chaos Dwarves, who they rescued by
backstabbing a black orc rebellion long ago,
they would have been completely wiped out
by their own greenskin kind. The Hobgoblin is
infamous for their distrustful nature, greed
and most of all backstabbing. They have
actually evolved, over the years, hardened
shoulder blades from natural selection
after so many generations of being stabbed
in the back. In fact they are so untrustworthy
that the reason their lot in life hasn't
improved is because they can't trust each
other to form a coherent rebellion! Though
they despise them, the Chaos Dwarfs find
them useful and allow these creatures to exist
as overseers and expendable troops. The Dawi Zharr have no qualms firing artillery into
formations that the Hobgoblins are engaged in, so long as the enemy is also killed.
The Chaos Dwarfs utilize the Hobgoblins as fodder in battle. The teeming mass of these
treacherous greenskins are given whatever they can scrounge up in terms of looted weapons,
invariably of significantly lesser quality then what their masters wear, and sent on the field to die
and hopefully take out a few enemies beforehand. Hobgoblin archers pepper enemy lines with
arrows or try to as their fire is a bit inaccurate. Hobgoblins armed with knives, daggers, long blades
and other assorted weaponry- for this treacherous race is known appropriately to favor weapons it
can stab people in the back with- run into melee combat.
Should they reach melee they can put up a fight against enemies, for such is their life style that they
have some innate combat skill. As per their nature they will still try to find creative ways of
stabbing their enemies in the back. One specific tribe known as the Sneaky Gits, a group of

hobgoblins untrustworthy even by the standards of their own kind, has actually evolved a
formation to this effect. Essentially the first few ranks will engage the enemy at the front while the
rest try to encircle to the flanks and rear, in order to fulfill the Hobgoblin's innate desire to shank
someone in the back.
Hobgoblins have low discipline and morale. They are renowned for their infighting on the field..
Whole units of Hobgoblins can become temporarily uncontrollable when it suddenly flees to
the rear, or else breaks out in infighting right there on the battlefield!
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: At range a portion of
Hobgoblins would be given bows to fire
off periodic volleys to pepper the enemy
lines. The others are given hand weapons
with an emphasis on daggers, cleavers,
and other such wicked blades. Many
daggers are carried on their person,
allowing some to be thrown before
charging in. The Sneaky Gits tribe wields
poisoned daggers.

Defenses: They have whatever light scrap

metal they can find as armor. Some have
managed to loot shields.

Mobility: 3
Training/Experience: 5
Max Range: 50m
(Blunderbus)
Effective Range: 25m
Preferred Range: Neutral
Though far rarer than
their hobgoblin slaves,
when the Chaos Dwarves
or Dawi Zhar come to the field they make an undeniable presencet. On the base level their warriors
are going to be incredibly potent fighters, with decades of experience and equal time spent
training. Matching their martial skill is their innate desire to crush anything that would dare lift a
finger or voice in protest of Chaos Dwarf ascendancy. As Chaos Dwarf hierarchy is determined by
both success on the field and amount of slaves that can be acquired after, they fight not only
with a sadist's glee at the death of lesser races, but their own innate obsessive greed for power and
advancement.
The personality effects of Chaos Dwarves have tangible effects on the battlefield. They are scornful
of any attempts to stop them, and will march on even under withering fire. Such is the contempt
they possess for other races, that when their allied units start routing the Dawi Zhar usually just
snort and continue to fight on. Only the rout of a fellow Chaos Dwarf unit affects them. Even then
the stubborn traits of the Dwarves shows, for Chaos Dwarves are always extremely reluctant to
abandon their positions.
From the older armybooks it is clear some Chaos Dwarves make use of crossbowmen and
beserker type units. The former would probably not be extremely common in recent days given
the Chaos Dwarf emphasis on technological development (which, unlike their Western cousins, they
do not detest), while the latter can still be seen, albeit rarely, even today.
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: Blunderbusses and heavy axes. According to the first Chaos Dwarf codex, some Dwarves
make entire units of blunderbuss lines . Recently the Legion of Azgorh have introduced Hailfire
Blunderbusses, which are better at armor piercing and covers even wider areas in shrapnel.
A few might still have crossbows while the battle-crazed beserkers would usually wear handaxes.

Defenses: The Chaos Dwarfs wear heavy plate armor and some have shields. The battle-crazed
berserkers would wear no armor much in the style of the Dwarven slayer.

Mobility: 3
Training/Experience: 6-7
Max Range: 300m
Effective Range: 180m
Preferred Range: Neutral
When a regular Dwarf in Warhammer
Fantasy endures what he considers to
be a great shame (which can be
anything from a serious condition of
fleeing in battle to something absurd
like getting a bit too drunk), he shaves
his hair, rips off his shift, and swears an
oath of glorious death in battle.
Flamboyant, out-spoken and fearless,
the Dwarf slayer immediately stands
out amongst his race both in presence
and personality.
When a Chaos Dwarf gets shamed, which can occur quite frequently in this pitiless society, he is
covered in terrible blackshard armor along with a gruesome red hot iron and bronze mask. All
names, titles and kinships are stripped way. The Chaos Dwarf is made to take an oath of silence,
never to speak until death or the nullification of his oath by his master (for this is possible in
Dawi Zharr society, unlike with their Western cousins). Nameless, faceless and voiceless, the
Infernal Guard carries with them an aura of gruesome anonymity.
The Infernal Gaurd are sent to ceaselessly battle the many enemies of the Chaos Dwarves, a
death in battle the fully expected outcome for their lives. They are almost fearless, willing to
stand up to certain death in a Chaos Mammoth charge then retreat. Led by their brutal Castillian
drill masters, they are unquestionably loyal to the Legion of Azgorth and will obey its lord without
hesitation. However they do have some hope, for if they are particularly valorous in battle they may
remove their helmets, being redeemed through combat. They might also get promoted to a position
of the esteemed Infernal Ironsworn who are the elite swordsmen bodyguards of the
Daemonsmiths/Sorcerors.

The Immortal Guard of the High Prophet of Hashtut (who would serve Astragoth)is another such
elite unit, described in Grudgebearer. A rather self-explanatory introduction is then posted in the
same book about them.
Their armor was painted black, and they wore heavy steel from head to toe. Their curled, piled beards
were protected by long sheaths of metal, and parts of their armor were reinforced with solid plates of
marble and granite. In their hands they carried large-bladed axes, curved and deadly. Handgun fire
and crossbow quarrels rattled off their armor, leaving only a few of them dead, the others quickly
filling the holes in their formation.
Gyrocopters buzzed in on attack runs, firing hails of bullets from rapid-firing, steam powered gatlers,
while pilots threw makeshift bombs from their seats. Steam cannons venting scalding vapors killed
several of the Immortals, but they were undeterred, never once breaking stride, their bull-headed gold
standard leading the advance, a great drum made from some monstrous skull calling the step.
Barundin sent word for the Ironbreakers to intercept the Immortals, and soon his own heavily
armored warriors were marching down to the valley floor, heading directly for their despicable foes.
Like two great metal beasts butting each other, the two formations met, the enchanted gromril of the
Ironbreakers matched against the cursed blades of the Immortals.
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: They can come equipped with Hailshot blunderbusses and axes, sometimes powerful
two-handed, as well as the Fireglaive. The Fireglaive is a repeating handgun that is crafted into

the shape of a halberd, allowing it to function both as a ranged and melee weapon. As they are
complex weapons to make usually only the elite Chaos Dwarves, such as the Infernal Guard, has
them.
The Infernal Ironsworn can wield enscrolled weaponry, which basically means their weapons are
enchanted with the fire of the Dawi forges and the suffering of the victims killed during the
creation(it can also hit ethereal creatures). The Mighty infernal Castillian who leads this force
might have a magical weapon or two (see Daemonsmith) as well as possibility of napatha grenades
The immortals may use any of this but were primarily described as wielding cursed axes.
Gotrek started for Khorreg, a menacing glint in his eye, when a third form interposed itself. It was
another Chaos dwarf, but this one was clad in black plate and a featureless helm. The Chaos dwarf
held an axe almost as malevolent-looking as Gotrek's own and the eagerness of the newcomer's
movement mirrored Gotrek's. 'Khul Ironsworn, Captain of the Infernal Guard, dishonored and
disgraced, you will win the right to remove your mask if you bring me this dwarf's skull,' Khorreg
bellowed. 'Kill him! Kill them! Kill all of them!'
Khul lunged and Gotrek met him, their axes striking sparks off one another. Felix could only stare in
awe as, for the first time, the Slayer seemed to have found an opponent who matched Gotrek's
incandescent rage and lust for battle. Khul made no sound as he swung and hacked at the Slayer, and
neither did Gotrek. For long moments, there was only the sound of the axes screeching against one
another and the slap of the duellists' feet against the stone. Gotrek and Felix, Road of Skulls
Defenses: The Infernal wears blackshard armor, which is ornately crafted plate armor that is
far stronger than normal steel. This armor is almost totally resistant to fire or heat attacks.
Those without two handed weapons can also carry shields. The Castillian might have something
magical.
The Immortals wear armor made of solid plates of marble and granite, which stops rather mundane
bullets and arrows and requires heavy missile fire or heavy weapons to bring down.

DAEMONIC EXPERIENCE: In
regards to Daemonic
experience, with the exception
of named characters, the value
is going to always be
variable. This is in part
because of the nature of the
realm of Chaoss looping
timeline, meaning that a
daemon could be fighting in
these battle moments after
creation or after thousands
of years of constant fighting.
So with the exception of some
named and greater daemons, I
will refrain from giving exact
experience. It might be as low
as 3-4, it might be as high as 10.
That said, they are generally
more innately skilled and
experienced than their mortal
counterparts

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: Variable (Likely High)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

The lowest levels of Khorne's terrible minions are occupied by the ferocious Bloodletters, who are
believed to have been some of the greatest of the War Gods mortal champions in life. Skillful
enough are they that, upon death, they were taken by the Blood God to wage unending war in his
name. According to Liber Chaotica they are the embodiment of the savagery of battle; being
sadistic, cruel, ferocious and vile, with no dirty trick unknown to them
Any moment spent not killing enemies is a waste for them. There is no subtlety to violence
incarnate. So eager are they to spill blood that left to their own devices in battle they will happily
charge without care for safety at all the while chanting out the names of those who they have
already slain (sometimes, an enemy soldier might recognize a name). If allies get in the way
bloodletters are not hesitant (actually they are eager) to tear through said allies to get to the
enemy. After all to the minions of Khorne it matters not from where the blood flows, so long as it
flows.
Bloodletters are very strong physically, at least strong enough to throw a grown man a dozen
yards .In addition to their superhuman strength and teeth, the Bloodletter carries the Hellbalde, a
magical weapon enchanted to attack the soul. Assuming it gets past the armor even the most
powerful hero is in dire risk of turning into a shriveled corpse as his or her soul is sucked out. The
Hellblade is part of the Bloodletters very essence and for that reason can never be disarmed or
dropped.
== LOADOUT ==
Offense: Hellblade.
Defenses: Some few might be portrayed as having brass
melted to their bodies, however most must rely on their
exceptionally tough hardened skin. They also have light
magic resistance.

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: Variable
Max Range: Unknown, several hundred meters
Effective Range: 240 meters.
Preferred Range: Spellcasting range
The basic daemon of Tzeentch is the heavily
unpredictable and deadly Pink Horror. Described as
usually cackling with incoherent glee, Pink Horrors
mood is as random as their creator. They may become
lucid after a time, scream with rage or become
completely motionless for little discernable cause.
According to Liber Chaotica both Pink and Blue
Horrors are the embodiment of all that is mad and
contrary, of a mortal's freedom to choose to do the
illogical and irrational.
In stature Pink Horrors are roughly half a mans
height. . As fitting a chaotic daemon of the Lord of
Change It is thanks to this love of magic that, alone of
the basic daemonic foot soldiers, they are able to cast
magical spells. Even the basic single Pink Horror can
cast small bursts of terrible warp fire. In older lore
some could even combine their magics together to
utilize minor spells of the Tzeentch.
Perhaps most devastatingly the battle isn't always
over if a Pink Horror is slain. Should they be killed in
close combat the Pink Horror will split into two
smaller Blue Horrors. Other than the color change
these creatures are much more malevolent and
viscous then what they came from, and are described as having an innate desire to squeeze the life
out of whatever is near them. Only when these two creatures are killed is the threat ended.
==LOADOUT==

Offensive: By themselves Pink

Horrors can cast small gouts of
Eldritch fire to scorch whatever foe
is ahead of him. When massed
together Pink Horrors are minor
wizards, able to know a single spell
from Tzeenth's listing, most likely
one of the lowest. In close combat
they attack with both claws and
supernatural strength to squeeze and choke.

Defense: Their skin, described as tough and leatherly

Mobility: 3 (fastest pace can be

described as a slow jog).
Training/Experience: Variable
Max Range: ??? (Disease)
Effective & Preferred Range: Melee
Plaguebeaerers, like bloodletters, are
drawn from mortal champions who, in
life, contracted and fell to the soulrending Nurgle's rot. Now in death they
serve that which they struggled with so
much in life, in a state of perpetual
decay. Innumerable sores cover their
body, pus weeps from a single bloodshot
eye, and a single tentacle horn, a mark of
Nurgle, protrudes from their foreheads. Their bellies are extended beyond a length that would seem
possible, and indeed they might even spill out in combat, spreading putrid entrails
everywhere. Putrid flies surround them that, when in combat, have an annoying tendency to fly
in the open mouths or eyes of their opponents, crawl up nostrils or clog ears. Even if all of that
is covered they will still try to bite and sting where they can.
Vile lesser daemons of Nurgle, these daemons are often assigned to count the number of plagues
used, herd other minions of Nurgle into battle, allocate fates to victims and generally try to instill
order on something inherently chaotic. The order is inherently impossible of course, but that does
not dissuade the so-called "Nurgle's Tallymen" in the slightest. They have a genuine love of afflicting
the enemy and do so with the greatest glee, for in their eyes they are "gifting" them. This is
representative of a mortals desire to rationalize and assign meaning to suffering, to create internal
justifications to justify avoiding change that might turn the condition. Another theory holds that
Plaguebearers are the personification of the moment of lingering death.
In addition to a tactical threat, the Plaguebeaerer is covered with diseases of various kinds that
even fighting against it is likely to cause plagues in the long run. What diseases they are varies
highly of course, but some of them are highly contagious and could decimate the enemy if left
unchecked. This spread is aided somewhat by the tendency, in some texts, for Plaguebearers to
deliberately vomit on their foes in a disgusting mixture of pus, maggots and even entrails.
"The thing that emerged dripped with pale-red birthing fluid but its flesh was a dank, warty green. It
was roughly humanoid in shape but its head was thrust forwards on a neck that emerged from its
chest. Its face was thuggish and slack-jawed. It had one yellow eye and a single horn in its forehead. Its
arms were overlong and its hands dragged on the floor as it forced its way upright, and its belly

sagged down, full of its own young of seething insects that spilled from rents in the flesh." Van
Horstmann
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Plaguebearers are armed with the plague sword, a vile weapon whose touch ultimately
brings disease. However no two plague swords are alike, and their affliction is kind of random
ranging from relatively harmless cold to soul-rending Nurgle's rot. A few in older stories and
codexes could vomit forth a grotesque stream spew of entrails, maggots and filth on the enemy.
Defense: Other than being surrounded by flies making them somewhat more difficult to hit,
Plaguebeaers are rather durable and heavily resistant to pain courtesy of all the painful diseases
festering on their body. If the opponent was using a normal non-magical weapon, it would usually
take dismemberment to put them down.
Taking advantage of this, the greatswords loyal to Gruber pushed forwards, their blades smashing
knights from their terrified steeds. A glancing blow knocked one of the men from his saddle, and he fell
heavily to the ground. As he struggled to his knees, a five-foot-long blade swept into his neck, cleaving
through his ornate plate armour and his spine.
Stefan lashed downwards, splitting the skull of another greatsword, his horse bucking beneath him.
His ears were filled with a buzzing drone, and a black cloud of insects suddenly descended on the
combatants, crawling into eyes, ears and noses. They crawled through the visor slits of the
Reiklandguard, buzzing and biting, and several of the knights struggled to rip the helms from their
heads. They crawled down the inside of plate armour, painfully biting the flesh beneath. They swarmed
over the eyes of the horses, stinging and biting. The greatswords were also assailed by the plague, and
they swatted frantically at the insects as they crawled over them.
The captain spat half a dozen buzzing insects from his mouth, his stomach heaving, and raised his
blade to cut down another of the greatswords that stood between him and the elector count. He
paused, holding his blow as he saw that the man was desperately scratching bugs out of his eyes and
swatting at the creatures crawling down his neck, the battle forgotten. Stefan could not strike down a
man in this way, but he did not need to. A blade punched through the chest of the man, driven through
him from behind with brutal force. The man was lifted into the air before being hurled to the ground.
He lifted his face to the heavens, crying out in pain. Stefan saw the man's face begin to rot before his
eyes. He was still alive as his flesh turned gangrenous and black, and his eyes turned milky-white, filled
with cataracts. In seconds, the man's skin atrophied and shrivelled, and he fell to the ground, dead.
A daemon stood behind the body, grinning insanely with its lipless mouth. It opened its mouth wide,
exposing crawling things within, and stepped heavily towards Stefan, hefting its filth encrusted
weapon.- Example of Plaguebearer flies

Mobility:6
Training/Experience: Variable
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Twas there, in that strange garden,
that I beheld the trust beauteous of
creatures. Their voices were
intoxicating, their touch bliss. They
begged me to hide with them, that
together we might stave off the
tedium of existence. Yet though my
body yearned to remain, my soul saw
plainly the snare set for it. I hardened my heart to their piteous pleas and fled, the joy of my escape
matched only by a sorrow 1 could not explain. Daemon codex pg 50
The most numerous of all of Slaanesh's servants, the Daemonettes of Slaanesh aptly illustrate the
nature of their lord and his lure. On the outside they put on a mystical glamour that bestows
their perverse features a terrible beauty. However if you are strong enough to see past this aura
these creatures are as physically repulsive as they come, and utterly malevolent. Those who are
unable to resist are doomed to be despoiled, used and then dropped at the whims of the creature.
Daemonettes represent both beauty and the ugly side of seduction, the ugly perversion of the
most debauched lusts.
"Come to me! Come to me! You know what it is that you have always desired. All your life has been a
desperate dream of me....awaken! Awaken, and come to me, for your reward awaits in my arms...."
-pg 20, Old World Bestiary
The true form of a daemonette does resemble a human woman, but an extremely mutated one. For
whatever unfathomable whim Slaanesh has these daemonettes have avian like feet, short stubbed
tale, crab-like talons, and giant bulging years. They are very pale, though can come painted in
whatever forms the Daemonette desires.
As pleasure seekers, Daemonettes arrive on the battlefield automatically with the intent to inflict
sadistic pain. With speeds beyond any mortal sprinter Daemonetters dash into melee combat,
dancing from foe to foe to gruesomely cut him or her open with their claw hands. Their skill in
arms has been likened to well-done choreography, each movement made with sublime skill
rather than the brute strength of their bloodletter rivals.

The more pain and torture they inflict, the more the Daemonette is invigorated by the sensation.
Indeed it is said that Daemonettes are the personification of Slaaneshs selfish passion and allconsuming lust, for these daemons are never satisfied. And after the battle is done the Daemonettes
stride among the fallen to take their souls to the realm of the Dark Prince. To those few who made
pacts with Slaanesh and significantly impressed him, a life of a daemon prince and unparalleled
debauchery awaits. To those who did not, an unending hell.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Claw hands. Though not ignoring the best armor outright, such is the skill of the
dexterous daemonette that they are quite good at bypassing it and rendering limb from limb.
Daemonette reaction speed is on par with Elves, who are usually perceived as unnaturally speedy
by humans.
Defensive: The
Daemonette's main lore
defense is the subtle
aura of attraction.
Sometimes seeing a
group of mystically
beautiful women
running down the field
can lead to brief, but
fatal distractions. Those
with hardened hearts,
steely discipline, great
mental strength or
simple prior knowledge
can be effective in
bypassing the allure
however. Still she is lithe
enough that sometimes
she can be difficult to hit
regardless.

==Additional Factors==
Based on Liber Chaotica and shown in Sigvald, it seems that Daemonettes are mostly female
because men think about sex and have depraved thoughts "ten thousand" times more than females,
and thus while male daemonettes apparently do exist, the vast majority of them are female. In
Sigvald a marauder group met with a couple daemonettes and was quickly beguiled, all save the one
woman in the group. In the Blackheart Omnibus a Slaaneshi sorceress using the same type of

beguilement succeeded in putting all the men in the room under a spell, but was killed by the one
other woman there.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 4-5
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The strongest, meanest, and most well equipped of the
basic Beastmen footsoldiers are the so-called
"Bestigors" .Barring the chieftain and the bray-shaman
they are the best of the average beastherd and they
make sure everyone knows it, slaying their lesser
brethren when any sign of challenge is shown or
sometimes even at random! As part of their need for
superiority Bestigors usually engage in headbutting
competitions with each other during their free time,
resulting in a lot of concussions but a band of heavily
battlecrazed beastmen
Even the Beastlord is wary of the Bestigors, for their sense of superiority is such that they
constantly judge their lords for weaknesses. Should one manifest a Bestigor of particular
audacity will suddenly and without warning bellow a challenge and heft his axe at the chieftain,
potentially resulting in his premature demise. It is for this reason that the more cunning Beastlords,
who often were once Bestigors themselves, are constantly scanning their elite troops. Should signs
of defiance manifest they are quick to viciously purge their elite guards.
In battle they serve as bodyguards for the Braylord or as a linebreaker, with their weight,
momentum, armor and two-handed ax giving them the ability to push through enemy formations.
They are more disciplined than Gors and can work in a formation, albeit a very loose and illdisciplined one. At the same time they will deliberately seek out and engage enemy elite units
as part of their quest to prove their own superiority. After battle it is the bestigor that, after the
shaman and the braylord, gets the first pick at loot.
==LOADOUT==

Offensive: Usually a giant, massive axe great for carving through armor, combined with unnatural
strength.
Defensive: Heavy plate armor, usually stripped from the corpses of many knights and strapped on
crudely.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 3-4
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
He straightened as more shapes came running at them
through the smoke, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the
monstrous charging shapes. Huge, horned and shaggy beasts
with slavering jaws and powerfully muscled bodies loped
through the mounds of the dead with crude axes and looted
swords.
Hold fast, men. Well see these things off! he shouted as cries
of alarm spread from somewhere close. He couldnt see from
where and had no time to check as the first of the beasts
thundered into their line.
Braying monsters ripped men from their feet with huge sweeps
of their weapons, snapping fangs tearing mens faces off,
clawed limbs rending limbs from bodies. The beasts gorged on
flesh, hacking their way through his men with ease. Albertalli
chopped his halberd through the arm of a dog-headed
creature, shocked when it roared and turned to face him
without seeming to notice its wound.
He stabbed with the point of the weapon, the tip snapping off a handspan within its belly. The creature
roared, bloody spittle frothing at its jaws, and its clawed arm swept down smashing his halberd in half.
Albertalli stumbled backwards, dragging out his pistol, but the beast was on him before he could fire,
its massive jaws snapping shut on his skull and tearing his head off with one bite.
Growing up to be roughly twelve feet tall and strong enough to rip a man in half with ease, the
minotaur is a creature even beastmen tread lightly around. The creature is dominated by
omnipresent hunger that pervades through every element of its day to day life; its constantly

looking for something to eat. Yet this is not of sustenance rather its the unholy euphoria of the act
itself, of killing, butchering and literally eating their foes. It is in this state they become one with
Chaos, and for that reason a Minotaur will not stop consuming even after it is physically full.
Beastmen herds cautiously lure minotaurs into following them via sacrifices and blood left out in
the open. Cautiously is the key word here, for minotaurs have a well-deserved reputation for
eating their small kindred. Such is the
acknowledgement of their power that prior to
battle Minotaurs are allowed to pick some of
the best and most powerful looted weapons
from their stocks, even magical blades when
available.
Fighting on a battlefield drives the Minotaur
crazy, for the scent of blood and gore is
omnipresent. In wild hunger they charge into
even the most heavily armed regiments
without fear, rending enemies with
weapons first and then tooth and claw.
Such is their bloodlust that wounds do not
deter them and often the only way a Minotaur
is going to back off is in death. In this frenzied
state the death of nearby friendly beastmen
comes with some commonality, but that is
expected by the Braylords.
However this does come with a significant
drawback, as if the Minotaur kills enough or
comes across enough gore he will quickly
begin to consume right then and there on
the battlefield. Nothing else matters at this point while it is eating; not enemy soldiers aiming at
it with more powerful weapons, not those retreating out of its way, not even allied beastmen who
are in desperate need of a good linebreaker!
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Whatever they can get their hands on. Great axes, claymores, clubs, giant hammers ect,
all mostly rusted, are examples of what they can carry. They are also strong enough to rip a man in
half or kill a horse with their teeth. However the strongest Minotaurs, known as Bloodkine, may
possess magical weapons that can increase an attribute or do some slight extra damage. An
example is the sword type "Everbleed" is probably the worst as even the slightest cut can create a
torrent of blood that will never heal via natural means.

Defensive: Light leather armor and occasional shields. Also Bloodkine might instead try and take a
plate that gives fire resistance or a helmet that drastically increases the power behind a head-butt
(Which is undoubtedly strong enough to cave in skulls).

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: 7-8
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
At first glance the Chosen may appear like an ordinary Chaos warrior however upon approaching it
is easy to detect the difference. These warriors are slightly taller and more muscular, their
armor more ornate, and their deadly two handed swords more fearsome. Whereas ordinary
Marauders of Chaos look up to Chaos Warriors in awe, the Chaos Warriors seek to be more like the
Chosen. Generally in order to reach this rank one must undergo a heroic quest. In one example
a Chosen got his position by getting captured and then fighting through Skavenblight for freedom.

Much rumor and myth shrouds them, however it is apparent that they do at least have some
magical blessings that permeate beyond the main warrior that leads each group and spreads
throughout the group. More often than not these are gifts actually beneficial to the Chosens desire
to inflict havoc upon the world. This, combined with the Chosens steely self-control and
determination, makes them a potent force on the battlefield. In fact it is said that the Chosen have
only one extreme vice, and that is cruelty to all things (if it can be called a vice to such a warlike
individual).
In battle the Chosen fight not as line infantrymen or ordinary soldiers but as champions and elite
warriors. They advance unflinchingly towards enemy lines, marching through barrages of
bullets, arrows, and even artillery without fear. Once melee combat is reached they excel at
breaking enemy lines, and their reputation is such that among the Empire just the rumor they are
approaching causes apprehension.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Can use swords, hammers, maces, halberds, great swords etc. . Chosen, by virtue of their
mutations, are far stronger than even normal chaos warriors with elven equivalent reaction time.
Defensive: Chaos Armor (see Chaos Warrior) with possibility of using shields.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 6-7
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Among the generals of the Old World, there are few sights more feared than that of a horde of Chaos
Knights erupting from the mist into their battle lines. And for good reason. Their weapons are
terrible, earned through countless years toiling under the dark gods with steeds that are
gruesomely daemonic, as intelligent and wicked as any man. When Chaos Knights collide into
battle lines enemy formations almost invariably break and scatter.
The warrior himself is armed a deadly assortment of gruesome cleavers and axes, and is covered
completely with armor crafted by a master Chaos Dwarf daemonsmith. Out of his greaves and

books are deadly scythes, perfect for cutting as they ride through enemy lines. Reputation too, once
built up, leads the enemy to be exceptionally wary of these warriors.
Famous Variants: The Plague Knight is a notable sub-variant of the Chaos Knight utilized by
Nurgle. Though these Knights are slower than other variants of Chaos Knights they hit with greater
force, and can survive blows that would clearly kill other servants of Chaos. Not to be outdone
Tzeentch has company of knights, the Kaldour Knights, composed of apostate warriors from the
Empire, Brettonia, Tilea and Estalia. They are noted for their great tactical skill and ruthlessness.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Chaos Knights can wield all manner of cleavers, swords or lances. Some of these might
be magically enhanced to increase the power behind the weapon. The steeds themselves are a
malevolent kicking, biting and sometimes even goring weapon.
Defensive: Chaos Armor completely covering rider and steed. Shields too.
==Additional Factors==

Mobility: 5.5
Training/Experience: 7-8
Max & Effective Range: Melee

Preferred Range: Melee

And to tell of the Juggernaut: its like has never been teen.
Twas a mighty steed of groaning iron and hrazen steel,
a thing cf living metal that steed taller than a man and
reared with the furies of a thousand, thousand dead. Its
massive head was part hound, part hull, part the
incarnate soul of Moody hate. As it moved toward us we
saw its countless clese-rivetted plates, forged in dark Jires,
hound with runes of unearthly spite. As it hared its hrazen
fangs we lost all heart and turned, fleeing to the night.
Daemon Codex, 8e
Those Chaos warriors or bloodletters who offer their
master a truly monumental number of skulls and give
him great honor may be seen fit to be rewarded with the
half-metal half daemon mount known as the
juggernaut. These warriors have been gifted with
Khornes daemonic mount known as the juggernaut,
which are creatures part metal and part daemon. Bound
in runes the metal and brass its form only barely serves
to contain the forms rage. They are the embodiment
of the breech, the newly made gap in enemy lines or
walls that allows for the assailing force to pour
through in a onslaught of bloodlust. In these moments
only the most stubborn or powerful of men may survive
the melee. This is the Juggernaut. Like any of Khornes minions they care only for death and
destruction. In battle while its rider attacks with its own craft the Juggernaut will gore, bite and
crush those beneath it.
Needless to say, both the daemonic and mortal variants are made to smash through enemy lines,
for few defenses could hold back a mulit-ton charge of hate, rage and brass. Once thats done the
only purpose of the Juggernaut is indiscriminately killing, something that it does very well. Such is
their zeal in fact that they have little restraint and it is said that they are borderline uncontrollable
by chaos commanders. Such is their zeal that the rider and mount will violently argue about who to
kill next, an argument that can occasionally result in the rider getting thrown from his mount.
There also exists a rare chariot version of Khorne, pulled by a pair of competing juggernauts.
Needless to say this unit can easily smash through enemy lines in a multi-ton brass charge.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Mortal Chaos Knight
Variant: Axes, swords, maces.
May be equipped with lances or
minor magical weapons.
In battle while its rider attacks
the Juggernaut will gore, bite and
crush those beneath it.
Bloodcrusher: Hebllade
As noted in both cases the mount
itself is perhaps the most potent
weapon.

Defensive: The mortal knight has

Chaos Armor and a shield, while
the daemon variant has some
innate magical resistance and
scaly skin. The Juggernaut is
living metal and iron, able to
deflect bullets with some
reliability.

==Additional Factors==

Training: 4-8
Mobility: 4
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The Skaramor are one of the most vicious tribes of the Chaos Wastes, a tribe said to be more
devoted to Khorne than any other. They are fanatical warriors who disdain the soldiers of the
Southern Civilizations, believing that only fellow Marauders and monsters of the Wastes can offer a
true challenge. This perception has held true for centuries, only changing where Khornes command
in the End Times had them pouring down into the Empire.
On the base level the Skaramor have plenty of Marauders, however those willing to dedicate
themselves further to Khorne may ascend to the rank of Skullreaper. Skullreapers are murderous
devotees to Khorne, mutated by their existence to being so thick in muscle that they can rip men
into pieces with their bare hands and they stand a full foot taller than even their already large
kinsmen. In battle Skullreapers care little for strategy, defense or discipline, fighting as
individuals with blinding rage and armed with magical daemonic axes that hit with terrible power.
Once the Skullreapers are unleashed they serve as a whirlwind of destruction, something that can
wreck through enemy linesmen and- if they are not careful enough- their own allies.
Above even the Skullreaper is the fearsome Wrathmonger, an individual who eats and drinks blood
and flesh of those they slay and are known for battling virtually constantly. In order to become
Wrathmongers aspirants must slay their comrades brutally, wade through a boiling blood lake and
defeat a Daemon of Khorne in a one on one duel before subjugating it inside themselves.

After emerging from this lake these men become infused with daemonic energy making them
extremely powerful, their skin turn blood red and some few might even constantly weep steaming
blood from their pores (obviously they survive this) . In battle Wrathmongers are juggernauts,
wielding massive duel hammerflails and armored with Daemon-wrought plate. Where a
Wrathmonger treads bloody ruin follows.

Offensive: Skullreapers use daemonic enhanced axes or cleavers, while Wrathmongers wield duel
Flails. Both are superhumanely strong, enough to tear off the limbs of lesser men.
Defense: Chaos Armor, though according to pictures does not always cover the entire body.
===ADDITIONAL FACTORS====
Both Units have the Mark of Khorne.

Training: 7
Mobility: 4
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Drawn from dozens of different tribes, the group known as the Putrid Blightkings is a loose
brotherhood that stretches across the entire northernmost region of the world, each of them
touched by the daemonflies of Bloab Rotspawned. These flies wander the world to drill into the
head of certain champions, who are then from that point on oriented towards the desires of Nurgle.
Like the rest of the Nurglite forces this works by slowly destroying the will of the infected, making
them increasingly susceptible to the Plague God as time goes on.
In battle these champions band together in loose groups. They are blessed with superior strength
and resilience. Indeed, they are tougher than even Orcs in the setting, able to endure massive
blows before being put down. They are blessed with many weapons that are carried as spares on
their person, such as axes, flails, battle scythes, staffs with massive bells on them (remind you of
anyone?) or mutant limbs. As all are carried on their person, they can switch out if they choose to.
OFFENSIVE: An array of various weapons, all poisoned and many carried on their person at once.
DEFENSIVE: Chaos Armor.
===ADDITIONAL FACTORS===
Always have the Mark of Nurgle.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 3-5
Max & Effective Range: Melee (mostly) some sub variance
Preferred Range: Melee, mostly
Easily twice as tall as a man, with arms as thick
around as Einarrs entire body, the thing was the
largest ogre he had ever seen. The breath of the
gods had fallen heavily upon the ogre; upon its
shoulders a pair of hideous heads glowered at the
world, great tusks twisting their massive jaws. From
the centre of the brutes torso, a third arm jutted, its
thick fingers clawing at the night as the ogre roared
its wrath. Tattered furs and strips of rag clothed the
creatures malformed bulk, barely containing the
hairy twisted body.-Palace of the Plague Lord
In Warhammer Fantasy, Ogres are a race of giant
humanoids that wander much of the world, selling
themselves as mercenaries in their quest to
sample as much food as possible! Twice as tall
as a man and extremely muscle-bound, they are
well-suited to subduing almost anything that
comes in their path . In their desire to eat all sorts
of new food as well as fight, they often travel the
world in large warbands. Some of these inevitably
go North to fight in the Desolate Lands or even the
Chaos Wastes. Some of these are then impressed
by the Northmens might, thus joining their tribe either temporarily or permanently in order to
raid (and eat) the Southlanders in large raiding groups.
Though ogres are naturally resistant to corruption, a few are nevertheless warped by the nature of
Chaos and given new mutations that Ogres are often positively giddy about. Given their nature,
these often include new mouths growing all over their body from which to feed, or even a
second head that sends more food directly to their stomach.. Others earn enough to loot to buy
massive plate mail from the Chaos Dwarfs. Units of these are then sent to cave in enemy lines, for
their very impact has been known to bowl through lesser units.
In addition to Chaos corrupted Ogres, the Chaos Dwarfs do have one regular Ogre tribe allied to
them known as the Ironskin tribe. This tribe is infamous for its habitat of taking massive amounts
of prisoners alive rather than doing what they normally do, eating them. It has grown rich and
extremely profitable from this trade, enough that most of the tribe cover themselves in Chaos Dwarf
iron.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Generally large hand weapons such as axes, clubs, swords etc. Some dual-wield while
others equip themselves with massive axes, mauls, claymores etc. An Ogre is also strong enough to
physically tear off limbs or crush a head in between its hands.
The Ironskin tribe is a full Ogre tribe and, though not the largest, they would still come equipped
with various creatures from the Ogre Armybook including sabre tooth cat cavalry, rhinox
cavalry, some ogres that carry literal hand cannons and Gnoblar servants, who are mean little
goblins armed with makeshift weaponry.
Defensive: Though many are bare-chested they can be equipped with Plate armor forged by the
Chaos Dwarves. Ogres are also significantly more durable than humans.
==Additional Factors==
Note: Ogres are subject to
Marks of Chaos.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 2-4
Max Range: 7 meters (vomit)
Effective & Preferred
Range: Melee

In the Northern wastes of the

world a race of bestial
humanoids known as trolls

roam, infamous for both savagery and stupidity. These creatures are usually 2-3 times a mans
height but with the largest big enough to swallow an ox whole. Though afflicted by Chaos are said to
be further mutated, often with extra claws or increased girth .With an appetite that is even more
voracious then the ogre it is said there is nothing they will not eat.
Trolls are attracted to men of Chaos and the mark of Chaos solely because of the fact that were
these men go, lots of bodies follow. It is thanks to that little facet that men of Chaos are able to
entice these trolls into battle alongside them, offering those snacks in the form of slaves and the
weakest of their group until battle is reached.
In battle these creatures are driven into enemy lines by the goading of their king or hosts. Once
there the Troll needs little further encouragement as the pummel, claw, vomit, and hack through
the enemy with enhanced strength and regeneration. Troll bile is legendary; being acidic enough to
eat through armor and man in one go.
Among trolls there is a small subset of them, descendent from an ancient troll conqueror, that eons
ago were embraced by Nurgle. These creatures have been wracked by just about every disease
Nurgle could inflict upon them. Though they survive thanks to their powerful regeneration they
suffer endlessly from their afflictions and yearn to spread their
disease among enemies.
Offensive:
Regular Chaos Trolls attack with claws, biting, and sometimes
additional claws and tentacles and other mutations that grow out of
them. Might also be smart enough to wield clubs , axes or cleavers.
As a short ranged projectile attack they can vomit up acidic bile,
flesh eating worms, or even the pure
stuff of change itself, mutating their
foes.
Bile Trolls attack with claw, maw and
sometimes blades coated with a
poisonous touch both incredibly
virulent and plague inducing. Instead
of unleashing acidic bile, they instead
vomit up a stream of plagues and
maggots upon the enemy, causing
terrible infection. They are at least as
strong as a ogre.

Defensive: Chaos trolls have

incredible regeneration, able to
grow back whole limbs, even

survive decapitation, in seconds. Worse these are Chaos Trolls, so their new limbs are now
heavily mutated and the troll grows more monstrous the longer it fights. Essentially in order to kill
it you must deal it countless minor blows at once or a couple major ones to overwhelm
regeneration.or hit it with fire, which completely undermines regeneration.

Bile Trolls have a weaker brand of regeneration thanks to all their diseases taxing their ability to
regenerate. However they are shrouded in leprous spores and flies, which hurt enemy ability to
target them.
==Additional Factors==
Trolls are world-renowned for their stupidity and are incredibly easy to trick with some
characters convincing them to set themselves up for deadly attacks or even turn on allies.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 8-10
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
We ruled this domain before your race was born. We shall still rule it when you are but a distant
memory. Long have we fought for the Dark Forces you call your gods. It would be a grave error to

mistake us for servants simply because we have a common cause in their name. Warriors of Chaos
8e
In the ancient past, before the sudden burst of Chaos and even before the arrival of the Old Ones,
the Dragon Ogres ruled a vast civilization. Alas even though the Slann and their masters ignored
them, the Dragon Ogres began to die slowly die off. In desperation the leaders of this race tried
everything in their power to stave off this fate. When Chaos mysteriously arrived, they found a
means. An unholy pact was made, and in return for mortality the Chaos Gods gained a race of
immortal servants for the rest of time.
Since then they have alternated between slumbering for hundreds of years-for they cannot be killed
except by violence- and fighting for large legions of the followers of Chaos. These towering
creatures, easily a couple times taller than a man, are among the most powerful servants Chaos
has. Many a battle has been won when these creatures came crashing through enemy ranks.
Dragon Ogres can potentially have thousands of years of experience and their physique is such that
few non-gigantic enemies could match them in strength. They come with the call of the storm,
bathing in lightning in a literal fashion before
attacking. Such is their affinity with electricity
that they can absorb it no matter the source,
and are immune to such attacks.
===Load Out==
Offensive: They are known to carry enormous
swords, axes and halberds into battle, as well as
being physically strong enough to break apart
other large creatures. However their reaction
time is sluggish.
Defensive: Dragon Ogres wear light leather
armor and have tough, durable, scaly skin as
the means of their main defense. This is in
addition to being tough, durable foes in their own right. As mentioned above lightning attacks do
not hurt them.
==Additional Factors=
Dragon Ogres look at all other mortal races with contempt, even fellow servants of Chaos. To them
these lesser races seem to have short lives and kingdoms, for in the time of the Dragon Ogres
countless civilizations rise and fall. Perhaps the one race they have anything other than contempt
for is daemons, and that contempt turns to fear. A Dragon Ogre would have nothing to do with a
daemon if possible.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 6
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Warped and malign creatures, Chaos Dwarf Bull Centaurs

are, as their name suggests, twisted amalgams of Chaos
Dwarf and ferocious bull in aspect, the unnatural fusion
creating hulking, monstrous beasts far larger than either and
filled with cannibalistic appetites. Many centuries ago, during
the Time of Chaos, a fraction of those that survived the
onslaught became horrifically mutated, their stubborn Dwarf
resistance to the warping taint was overwhelmed utterly by
the awful energies to which they were subjected, and so the
first Bull Centaurs were born. They came to serve their wider
kin as shock troops and temple guardians, and to them was entrusted the protection of the
sacred fines of Hashut, as they more than any other had been twisted into the closest semblance of
the Father of Darkness' image.
Into each successive generation of Chaos Dwarfs a handful of new blessed kin has been born
usually to the death of their unfortunate mothers and such children are given over immediately to
the Sorcerers to serve in turn. This number however has not proven enough and Hashut's inventive
priesthood have wielded their dark arts to make more, tampering with their offspring using horrific
magics, and even fusing them into frameworks of metal and daemon tainted flesh to swell the ranks
of their temple guardians.
As well as serving as temple guardians, the Bull Centaurs are also entrusted with dangerous tasks
by their masters who trust them implicitly. They are hulking, savage creatures whose strength`
and endurance far exceeds that of a Chaos Dwarf, and thanks to their strange forms they are far
swifter in battle. As they age, their flesh hardens and distorts almost to the consistency of a living
metal, and rather than heal naturally from injuries, they must instead rely upon their Sorcerermasters to repair their wounds with poultices of molten mercury, steel sutures and brazen splints.
Although as keen-witted and intelligent as their Chaos Dwarf brethren and utterly devoted to the
worship of Hashut, their Father of Darkness, they are even swifter to anger, and are often
otherwise preoccupied with a great hunger for flesh. A good number of the slave sacrifices
bound for Hashut's temples will actually be rent apart, limb-from-limb at the Bull Centaurs' holy
feasts, as while slave meat is a common fare for the Chaos Dwarfs, the Bull Centaurs prefer their
meals both alive and screaming.

Among their number are the potent

Taurruks; massive and ancient,
they are commanders of the Chaos
Dwarf legions and heralds of
Hashut. In battle these strapping
monstrosities lead entire battalions
of Bull Centaurs in an unstoppable
onslaught of trampling hooves and
steel wielding sinew.
--With Credit to Mathias Ellisons
codex for the awesome description.
===Load Out==
Offensive: Bull Centaurs can carry
great axes, spears, swords, mauls and
other such heavy weapons into
battle. The mighty Taurruk can have
something magical for weaponry (see
Damonsmith, though not their best items).
Defensive: They have heavy mail or plate armor as well as tough scaly skin. Some might also have
shields. The Taurruk can be equipped with Blackshard armor and potentially something magical
for armor.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 3
Max & Effective Range: Melee

Preferred Range: Melee

Tuskagors are viscous creatures that roam the deepest parts of the woods. A cruel parody of aboar
and the ram, the Tuskagor sprouts malformed tusks and horns from all over its body.
Tuskagors are notoriously aggressive. So much so in fact that the Brayherds have to entice
minotaurs to wrestle them down and bind them with a Bray-Shaman overseeing the latter via
magical means. Then Bestigors are needed to stop the Minotaur from eating the Tuskagor. Finally
then they are forced to chariots.
In battle the Beastmen utilize these chariots for a variety of uses. The weaker ones will be used as
beasts of burden to cart off loot and plunder after the battle. The strongest ones will pull the
beastmen-sometimes even their beastlord- into battle .These surge into combat at breakneck
speeds, their sheer weight of impact enough to inflict terrible damage in their own right. That
the chariot often shatters at point of impact upsets the beastmen not, for they will have ridden
down many of the enemy in doing so. Even when the chariot has broken up the tuskagors-now
frenzied- are still threats to be reckoned with.
Cries of anger and dismay suddenly went up from a group of flagellants as a crude rattling chariot
charged across the battlefield at breakneck speed. Resembling nothing more than several large pieces
of lumber nailed and strapped together, it was drawn by two hulking creatures that looked like wild
boars mutated into huge horned and tusked monsters.
The tuskgorsfor that was the name these warped animals were known byploughed through the
ranks of the Sigmarite army, dragging the shaking chariot behind them. They crushed any who got in
the way of their heavy hooves or the iron-banded wheels of the wheeled platform they hauled.
One man was impaled on the horns of one of the tuskgors and then tossed high into the air as it
threw its head back. The unfortunate wretch landed amidst a pack of ravening, battle-frenzied ungors
that proceeded to tear him limb from limb.
-Magestorm
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Tuskagors themselves have vicious tusks and horns and their weight makes
them skilled at trampling enemies. The two riders, a Bestigor and Gor, carry a great ax and spear
respectively.
Defensive: A Tuskagors fur is heavily flea infested and so matted that , along with thick skin, most
arrows can barely penetrate it! The riders have light leather armor or the plate of a bestigor.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience:
4
Max & Effective
Range: Melee
Preferred
Range: Melee

The foul-tempered,
bigger cousin of the
tuskagor, this creature
is feared even by
Beastmen as it is
considers them its
prey. Yet the taming of
such a beast is
considered a rite of
passage for a
beastlord, and refusal
to do so leads to
accusations of
cowardice. And said
accusations often lead
to challenges and a
new beastlord.
Countless Beastlords
have died trying to
tame these creatures,
yet every once in a
while one succeeds by
beating the razorgor in
the head enough times
with a hammer to daze it. Once this is done the beastlord will build a chariot to showcase his new
status while he rides around the massive boar.
In times of war the largest brayherds will first devote themselves to capturing many razorgors at
once and coral them together. Then they are either herded into loose packs or used individually to
pull manned chariots. Regardless of whom rides them Razorgors are nearly uncontrollable to

steer or direct, and for the most part the charioteers are just around for the ride. Though they have
poor vision, when a razorgor catches site of the enemy they are near-uncontrollable, running over
any in their path to get to them. Such is the power of their charge that they can knock down minor
walls, flatten a tree, and scatter shield walls.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Razorgors have viscous tusks and
trampling hooves, ensuring that their charge is
extremely powerful, far more powerful than
even the tuskagor. The two riders, a Bestigor
and Gor, carry a great ax and spear
respectively.

Defensive: Even thicker skin and hair then the

Tuskagor. The riders have their own armor
seen in their profiles.
==Additional Factors==
Due to the difficulty in capturing and corralling
them, can be considered a rare unit.

Mobility: 5

Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Like their Beastmen compatriots, the Warriors of Chaos too are known to ride chariots into battle
however unlike them their chariots are made of sturdier stuff, and do not usually collapse
immediately upon impact with the enemy lines. These are wrought with iron and forged in
blood, weighing so much that they can open up sections in all but the most powerful lines and
fortifications from the impact of their charge.
From the steeds to the chariot itself, every aspect of this vehicle is a weapon. The horses are
described as coming straight from hell itself with balefire shining in their eyes and being
malevolent enough to snap at flesh as they run by, trampling those that fall underneath. They are
clad almost completely in tempered steel with giant scythes coming out of several points on
their armor. The chariot itself is also covered in many of these spikes, including the wheels, as
well as grizzly ornaments from past conquests.
However not even these horse-drawn chariots can compete with the rare Gorebeast Chariot.
These are even more massive vehicles then the normal chariot, pulled by the massive gorebeast,
which somewhat resembles a rhino. .The sole purpose of such a mount is to deliver a blow of nearunstoppable force to a weak-point in enemy lines, scattering and even utterly blowing apart
through sheer force of impact those hit. Such is its reputation that carrion birds and hungry
hounds are said to follow these chariots at a respectful distance.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Both Gorbeast and Chaos chariots are lined with all sorts of spikes and scythes, and their
mounts attack with deadly maws and trampling hooves. The two Chaos Warriors who ride each
chariot attack with halberds or whips.
Defensive: Chaos Warrior mounts wear Chaos Armor, and their mounts are covered in tempered
steel.
==Additional Factors==
Both the Chariot models can take specific blessings of the various gods boosting strength (force of
charge), defense, making them more difficult to hit or hit faster.

Mobility: 5.5
Training/Experience: 2-3
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The first of the gigantic hellhounds leapt between two of the heavy wooden stakes that had been
driven into the ground in front of the men-at-arms. Its immense shoulders were covered in mangy,
matted fur, and its eyes reflected the flames of the braziers.
It hurled itself at the dragon-helmed knight, and its massive paws slammed into his armoured chest,
bowling him backwards even as his sword blade penetrated the beast's chest. With one savage bite, the
knight's head, helmet and all, was ripped from his shoulders, and blood sprayed out like a fountain.
The beast's thick body was impaled by polearms, but it had done its work, and Radegar felt panic
begin to rise within him. It had happened so fast.
He had no time to think, as scores of the massive hounds struck the line. Radegar thrust his polearm
forward, taking one of the beasts squarely in the chest. The force of the beast's momentum knocked
him back a step, into the men behind him, and his feet slipped in the mud.
He saw his scowling yeoman hack his blade into the side of the head of another beast, the sword biting
deep. Radegar pulled his weapon back, and with a shout he thrust again, feeling his weapon bite into
flesh.
The man to his right dropped to his knees as a massive weight dragged his shield low, and in the next
instant a snarling beast tore his face off with a snap of its jaws. The axe-head of a polearm slammed
down onto the beast's skull, cracking it like a nut, and it died instantly, blood and brain splattering.
Men were shouting in fear, panic and anger, and order began to be lost. More holes were made in the
shield-wall as men died, some as their arms were savagely ripped from their sockets by the monstrous
hounds and others as massive jaws ripped at their throats, spraying blood wildly.
Radegar shouted wordlessly as he struck. A heavy weight slammed against his shield, and he was
pushed backwards again. In that moment, Radegar knew that the line was going to break, and that he
was going to die. Knight Errant

Like the men of the civilized lands, both the Northmen and those of the Beastkin tribes share a
special relationship with their canines. Only these dogs are deeply corrupted things, originally
the descendants of wolves and bloodhounds but now mutated into something far fouler. In
addition to being far bigger than normal hounds (described as pony sized ) Many Chaos
Warhounds have mutated to possess horns, spines, and tusks, and further rarer mutations
include long barbed tongues, human limbs or faces, stone hard skin, tentacles that flow from their
forehead fire-breathing or even a scorpion's tail!
Trained but not tamed Warhounds serve as nominal sentries of the camp, being fed a steady diet of
slaves and the weakest members of chaos as a result. However when their masters know that battle
is near they will deliberately starve for daysthe beasts. Though many die this ensures the beasts
are battle-crazed and fanatically hungry.

These surviving, frenzied hounds are then released on the battlefield ahead of the main Beastman
force. Running at speeds only slightly slower than a horse and now crazed from hunger, these
Chaos Hounds will charge even a bristling spear wall in their pursuit for food. While at times
sending their dogs out in front of the main force, Warriors of Chaos also utilize a second use. Owing
to these hounds remarkable sense of smell they can be unleashed in packs to hunt down all but the
stealthiest and quickest of the enemy's scouts and skirmishers. They are also well suited for
running down the fleeing enemy.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Super sharp teeth that can rend
through flesh in an instant, as well as jaw-power to
crush a mans head in a plate helmet. Three of
them working together are able to rip a platearmored knight into pieces. Also some of them
have evolved poison as a mutation or else have
warpstone hammered into their teeth if their
owners are particularly rich.
For a moment, Karl felt a twinge of martial pride
for the culture that had raised him. The greatest
army in the world. He would be content to die at its
hands. He would ride his nameless nag into the pike
wall and find his end.
The pike wall was right ahead now, and unmoving.
The hounds reached the pike wall. Hounds are not like horses, they do not quail and veer aside from
obstruction. Whether this means horses are smarter than dogs, or dogs braver than horses, is hard to
call. Hounds are unlike horses in other ways too: they are lower and smaller and fleeter, and much
harder to strike with a pole blade four spans long. And they have the teeth of meat-eaters.
A few of the great hunting dogs were gashed and run through by the stalwart pikes. A few more were
shot by handgun and crossbow and left yelping and lame on the mud. The bulk ran in under the pikes
and into the men.
At once, the wall broke in several places. Men screamed and fell back, trying to dodge the ravening
war-dogs. They crashed into the ranks behind them. Pikes dropped into the mire. Some parts of the
rank unformed completely as frantic pike men turned their weapons too far and too suddenly to check
the murderous hounds.
The Kurgan charge slammed into the Imperial front row and poured into the breaks and gaps. Men in
white and red went down under the weight of horses or the thrust of horned spearmen. Once the
enemy was in amongst them, the pike men were forced to abandon their shafts and equip themselves
with hand weapons. They had no shields, and none of the Kurgans momentum.-Riders of the Dead

Defensive: As a mutation some possess scaly skin that can shrug off glancing sword blows and
make thrusts more difficult to penetrate.
==Additional Factors==

In addition to these fierce mutated dogs, a few Hung tribes are known to train large birds of prey as
warbirds.

Mobility: 7 (as fast as a horse)

Training/Experience: 3
Max & Effective Range: 300
(eastern variant), most are
melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Just as Centaurs are the
disturbing cross between a man
and horse, Centigors are the
cross between beast and
horse. They possess the speed
and strength of their equine
ancestors along with our ability
to wield weapons with their
hands. However though strong
and fast, Centigors lack agility
and dexterity to manipulate
objects with any real control.
This has left them extremely
bitter and envious of other
creatures with better abilities.
Which has, in turn, led the entire
race to become bitter
alcoholics.

Since they are bitter and yet incapable of fabricating weapons for themselves, Centigors often
answer the brayherd's call to war. When Brayherds gather for religious ceremonies, Centigors trot
around, defecating on random pillars and making loud boasts to everyone that will listen. And get
wasted off of looted wine. Beastmen seem to have accepted this nature of the Centigor fortunately,
and generally just ignore them when they do this.
In times of war Centigors have two roles. The first is delivering messages from shaman to
shaman. Though this might not seem the wisest choice to allocate to known drunkards, Brayshamans seem to utilize elaborate magical message systems in which they speak with a voice other
than their own. Sometimes it is the voice of a shaman, other times it is a truly dread daemonic voice.
If asked later Centigors would reply they have no knowledge of these messages.

When in battle Centigors, being part horse, serves as Beastmen cavalry. They gallop into battle
inside semi-organized formations armed with whatever hand weapons the Beastmen give
them. Their effectiveness depends on their state of mind. When dead drunk they fight with fierce
rage and a complete stubbornness when it comes to routing. However this comes at the cost of
somewhat stunted reaction time that is added by natural centigor traits. If they are hungover
they are completely irritable, hating the loud cacophony of war and are far less effective in battle.
They are at best performance when sober but this is, unfortunately, a rarity for them.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Spears are their most common
weaponry. Sometimes they put down their shields
for great axs, maces or claymores. Or given
throwing axes. The Eastern plains variant is
sometimes portrayed as more coordinated than
their Western brethren, and might be given bows.
Defensive: Most of the time they use shields and
some light leather.

Mobility: 7
Training/Experience: 1-3
Max & Effective
Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

From far away a harpy

appears as a lithe, shapely
women however close up
its clear that any distant
ideals of beauty are a lie.
This creature has the same
furred legs of a beastmen
and a face described as
twisted and leering, with
needle-sharp teeth. Harpies
are instinctively cruel and
malevolent, and thus those
they catch are in for great
torment before death.
When campaign begins
swarms of harpies fly above
and alongside the
beastmen, their screeches
and cries filling those that
hear them with dread. At
times their cry might
change tune to alert the
beastmen that they spotted something, thus serving as makeshift scouts. Opportunists and
scavengers harpies generally won't attack the well-armed and ready. Instead they will by
instinct target those too weak or wounded to defend themselves, which sometimes might mean
those lightly armed artillerymen to the rear. If there is a large enough swarm of them though they
might get bold and try to overwhelm more formidable enemies on the ground.

However Harpies can also be directly ensnared to the will of Chaos magicians and sent into
battle in vast hordes. If directed via bray-shaman control they can be used more tactically. In
Bretonnia they were utilized to assail and carry off numerous sentries from a high sanctuary.
Another instance saw them sent after enemy artillery, slaying those who were far away from
protection.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: They are armed with claws sharp
and strong enough to rip unarmored humans
limb from limb in a few moments, especially
when working together.
Defensive: Nothing
==Additional Factors==
Harpies summoned during a Storm of Magic,
or when the tempest of Chaos is at its highest
point, are much more formidable then
normally. Their claws can tinge with chaotic
wildfire, be exceptionally venomous or
sharp. They are also far bolder and more
daring in combat.

Mobility: 7
Training/Experience: 5
Max Range: 400 m
Effective Range: 240m.

Preferred Range: Ranged or Melee, depending on variant

Though many among the Northmen have a suspicion or even fear of horses, quite a few tribes have
adopted it as a war animal. Often it is used as a status animal for the elites, such as the Chaos
Knights, though there are quite a few purely nomadic tribes that make regular use of the
horse. These horsemen are feared throughout the known civilized world in much the same way
the Huns or Mongolians were feared.

The speed and mobility of the Marauder horsemen is legendary, and they are capable of guiding
their horses with just a twist of the waist or light tap of the foot. This frees up their hands in
battle to dual-wield weapons if need be. Such synchrony owes itself to the fact thatis these horses
are trained with a warrior since he is young, with one of the first tasks of a Marauder horseman to
capture and break a Marauder stallion. They then grow together, and the horse becomes utterly
loyal to the warrior, never letting anyone else ride it. Fed on a diet of human flesh and blood, these
horses are nearly as malevolent as their owners themselves, and will kick, bite and stomp in battle
gleefully without command.
In battle the Marauder Horseman can take a variety of roles. Those that favor javelin and throwing
axe will ride up close and pepper enemy lines before retreating. Those like the Hung will shower
enemy lines with arrows much like the Horse archers of the Mongolians. Others will be sent to hit
enemy flanks and rears, armed with spears or barbed flails for this task. In the case of the latter the
Horsemen love to catch hold of someone with it and drag them to death behind their horses. Enemy
cavalry, if present, will be engaged. Finally at the conclusion of the battle they will be used to
gleefully run down enemy survivors. Unless ordered, Kurgan Marauder Horsemen almost never
assault a defensive fortification.
The knight suddenly sat upright in his saddle. A black-fletched arrow had just impaled his chest.
Zar Uldin galloped in, with many of the warband racing beside him. He was letting arrows fly from his
composite bow. Uldin was riding without a hand on the reins. He drew the bowstring back past his ear
and charged his arrows with such force that no bascinet, cuirass or mail could stop them. Each arrow
made a spitting noise as it loosed a grinding crack and punctured its target.
Transfixed with arrows, the knight clattered off his horse.
Karl cowered against a tree stump as the Kurgan stormed past. They were whooping and yelling and
their heavy arrows spat through the air. Each man had a clutch of six or seven arrows gripped
between the fingers of the hand that held the bow itself, so as soon as they had fired one, their drawing
hand could nock another as it went to pull the bowstring back. Their fire rate was astonishingly rapid,
like some mechanical device designed by the Engineers of Nuln. The Kurgan horses, smart and hardtrained, seemed to need no rein control. This allowed the Northers great independence; they could
turn in the saddle and shoot arrows in passing to the side, or even to the rear. Karl gazed as a Kurgan

 Barlas put an arrow into the chest of one templar as he charged him, and then two more between
his shoulderblades as he galloped past.
The proud templars, the military elite of the Empire, were overwhelmed in under a minute. One, armed
with a sword and cornered, fought on against the Kurgan riders closing around him and goading him
with spears.- Riders of the Dead
Often they share these plains with the Hobgoblin Wolf
Riders, who ride the plains above Cathay in great
Khagnates . Led by their Wolf-khans they are infamous
mercenaries and for that reason are usually hired out by
the Chaos Dwarves, who use them as skirmishers,
foragers and light cavalry in their wars of conquest .
Regardless of their formally independent status the
Chaos Dwarves treat them no better than the Hobgoblins
under their lordship.
This is in part because the Wolf-Riders have the same
basic traits as their slave-breaker cousins. They are
notorious backstabbers, sometimes attacking each
other even in the middle of battle. Also these riders are
known for their cowardice and apt to flee if they are
outnumbered or if sent into a particularly fearful
task. Given that they are riding wolves, this is relatively
easy to do. When they manage to charge in the enemies
flanks or rears they can gain a brief burst of enthusiasm,
but they will never like facing an enemy face-to-face.
Nevertheless some are noted for being skilled archers.
Rarely a Hobgoblin Khan can arise to lead either the
Wolf Riders or their cousins in the Hobgoblin employ. These skulking brutes are used to help unify
Hobgoblins in battle, keeping their kin in line by immediately executing any that show an ounce of
disloyalty.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Marauders are armed with hooked axes, barbed fails, or spears for close quarters.
For ranged they might have javelins or thrown axes. The Eastern Hung were more likely to use
composite bows in Mongol/Hun style, with the richest clans having warpstone tipped arrows. Much
like the Mongols and Huns of our world, they are described as expert riders. They use large
aggressive horses or ponies (if Hung).
The two-headed rhinox had gone down beneath the barrage, appearing more like some kind of giant
porcupine with so many shafts buried in its shaggy flesh. The creature was not dead, however. It was

too stupid and its hide too thick to succumb. At the site of each arrow-inflicted injury, the beast
suffered the horror of a rapid transformation. It swiftly became a moaning mound of hairy mutation,
spawning new appendages, tentacles and growths. With these new gifts it dragged its spiny form
across the tundra towards the wagon
and the pair taking refuge beneath it.Archaon: Everchosen
Hobgolbin Wolfirders can carry bows,
spears, swords or axes into battle. The
Khan might also have any of that along
with throwing knives and potentially a
minor magical weapon (see
Daemonsmith). As you might expect,
the giant horse-size wolves attack with
their teeth and paws.
Night Attacks are common among the
Hobgoblins and Hung, as well as
methodology of using hit and run
attacks strikes to attack. Hobgoblins in
particular are renowned for their
trickery and sneaky tactics, having
almost a supernatural ability to sneak
up behind someone and stab. However
while the Hung are renowned for their
archery, the Hobgoblins are apparently
poor with accuracy as shown by the
novel Wulfrik. Also are cowards at
heart more than any other greenskin.
Defensive: May utilize shields or leather armor. If Leather armor the codex notes this slows them
down a bit.
Wolfriders and the Khan might have shields and some light leather armor. The Khan also might
have a minor magical defense.

Mobility: 8
Training/Experience: 3-4 (Variable for
Daemons)
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Slaanesh finds the desperation of mortals

exhilarating; especially of those who lack
the strength or cunning for power yet craze
it anyway. To these weak-willed men
Slaanesh offers a bargain give him just a
few souls, and he will personally insure
their rise to power. The Steed of Slaanesh is
a gift he offers to carry these men from one
victory to the next. Unfortunately, like many
of the choices offered by Chaos, this one
came at a horrible price. For once the
warrior hops on the steed, he is destined
to never get off.

The joy that a warrior gets from killing on

top of such a beast proves to be
exhilarating- too exhilarating in fact. Its a
drug and the withdrawal is so horrible that
any thoughts of power and fortune are
quickly abandoned, leaving only a
gnawing hunger for sensation. Their path is
an eternal hunt and only death is a release.

Seekers of Slaanesh are significantly better off. These are maidens of Slaanesh that have been
rewarded in service to their master with a new steed. They
are sadistic to the extreme, and outside of battle are wellknown for tracking down singular foes for thousands of miles,
letting them go just as they are about to be caught. In this way
they have been known to drive their quarry insane over
month-long chases.
The steeds of such warriors are curious bipeds that are known
for their extreme grace and mystique, being rumored to have
been made from the guilty desires of mortals. They appear as a
cross between a bird and an anteater, with the matching
anteater like tongue.
This tongue is to be feared for two reasons. First it is coated in
deadly, extremely painful toxins, and in battle this is the
means in which steeds gruesomely kill the enemy, along with
claws. Such toxin not only simultaneously heightens
sensation, making the poison more painful, but deadens
reflexes. If the victim survives then he will likely be plagued
by alluring hallucinations and dreams of temptations for
the rest of his life. The second is the ability to taste the Winds
of Magic and via that detect a targets unique soul signature.
It is in this way the Seeker can track down targets for years to
come.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Mortal Hellriders can be armed with spears or hellscourges, which are whips that are
said to move on their own accord and deal multiple attacks when they strike. Such whips can rip
out throats, gouge eyes, and rake skin in the same blow. The Daemonette may also have this
weapon or attack with her claws. Both riders have elven equivalent reaction time.
In both cases the Steed itself attacks with a deadly, poisonous armor-piercing tongue and claws.
Defensive: Hellriders carry shields and ride barechested. Neither Seekers nor steeds have any
armor.
==Additional Factors==
Like the Dark Eldar of 40k the Hellriders get more powerful the more they destroy, and get
particular buffs . On the base level this would make their charge more fearsome thanks to extra
power, but gradually over time they will also become more fearless in battle and even immune to
pain.

Mobility: 5.5
Training/Experience: 3-4 (Variable for Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Plaguebearers are under a lot of pressure to keep tally,

for should they fail they will be turned into a toad by
their master. Then, if Nurgle ever loses a battle, he raises
his spirits by heading to his garden and stomping on
toads until the spray of blood and guts raises his morale.
Not surprisingly Plague Toads flee to the mortal realm
every chance they can get.

Nurgle- centric forces, such as that of

Tamurkhan, can bring these creatures
to summon these creatures to fight for
them. In battle they use their long
tongues to drag enemies into sharptoothed maw or gore people with
their slimy horn. For a more strategic
use they are known to seek out
waterways, poisoning them.
Sometimes they are captured and
bound by Plaguebearers for use as
mounts. The Toads are not too happy
about this arrangement but have little
choice in the matter, as they dont want
the mounted plaguebearer to kill them
and send them back to Nurgles realm!
These beasts are then made part of the
vanguard of a Nurglite force, crashing
through enemy lines like bloated
cannonballs. Any blood shed just
helps spread the infection.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Pox Riders themselves have a plague sword, while their steeds attack with their
massive bulk, horns, and poisonous tongue.
Defensive: Plague Toads are so bulky that this is often aids them in shrugging off wounds, and are
also usually surrounded by flies.

Mobility: 7 -5.5 (Beast)

Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

In the distance I beheld a Lord of Change,

wings tern and limb bloody. Twas then the
heat haze cleared to reveal the Flesh Hound
pack loping at his heels. Iridescent fire blazed
from the Feathered Lord's oven mouth and
washed over his pursuers, hut the collars about
the hounds necks glowed dully and the
flames died. Last strength spent, the Lord of
Change fell to his knees. With one mind, the
pack lunged, and soon their prey was naught
hut torn offal and bloodied plumage
--Daemons of Chaos, 8e, pg 31
The Flesh Hounds are eight feet long wolflike daemons of Khorne, brutal creatures as
blood-obsessed as the more sentient
daemons of the Skull Legions. They are the
embodiment of battle at its most
unforgiving, such as the slaughter of an enemy who begs for mercy or the plunging of a sword into
an enemy's back. Described as lithe but extremely powerful, outside of battle they are used to
hunt down those who offended Khorne. Few beings survive such a fate, as Flesh Hounds can carry
a scent across even the most terrible of environmental conditions and more often than not only
defeat will dissuade them. For these excellent tracking they make an excellent anti-scout unit!
This is made worse by the near complete immunity this unit has to magic, something only the
strongest of magics can bypass.
In battle they run ahead of Khornes armies and charge enemy lines without concern for safety,
for they are utterly fearless of all things but Khorne itself. Vicious and fast they will then tear into
enemy front-ranks as Bloodletters use the distraction to advance. When the battle is over and
should the Khornate forces prevail they will then move to cut down any fleeing survivors. The more
successes a fleshound achieves the more Khorne rewards them to the point where the very oldest
beasts are marked with dozens of runes, tattoos, insignia, and have so much bling they clatter when
they walk!

Beasts of Nurgle look like a cross between a slug, a frog, tentacle monster, and likely a number of
other unsavory things. The Beast of Nurgle is the embodiment of mindless corruption.Its so
disease ridden that its very proximity kills small animals and little piles of acidic slime are
left when it moves. When it sees another foe it will quickly and without thought run up to him and
lick him uncontrollably and/or petting the unfortunate with its tentacles, paralyzing and quickly
rotting him into
nothingness.
Which is sad because the
Beasts of Nurgle are the
friendliest daemons in this
profile! The Beast of Nurgle
doesnt want to kill; it only
wants affection and
attention. Its attempts to
lick people, fatal if
successful, are not out of
malevolent but to show its
affection. Unfortunately
these beasts are so dumb
that they dont learn that
their tongues kill, and their
only response to death
(which they dont
understand) is slight
disappointment that their
new friend stopped moving
before happiness again as
soon as it catches sight of
more friends!
In battle Plaguebearers
attempt to rein in a
measure of self-control on
these beasts however this
rarely lasts long, as the
Beasts want desperately
the affection of new
friends.
A beast of Nurgle, boisterous in its approach, smashed through the eastern wall. Bastarno tried to
dive clear, but too slowly, and was pinned beneath the creatures slobbering bulk. The vampire stabbed

at his assailant with short, efficient jabs, but the daemon paid the wounds no heed. Instead, it looked
fondly down at the struggling vampire, dipped its head and ran a rough and slimy tongue across
Bastarnos head and upper torso. Where it passed, the vampires face and armour bubbled and
blistered, his screams of agony as excruciating as they were brief. Feeling his playmate go still, the
beast looked down in momentary confusion, then bounced away in search of another friend.- End
Times : Archaon

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Fleshhounds attack with tooth
and claw, while plaguehounds use a highly
infectious tongue and tentacles to make
short work of friends.
Defensive: The scaly skin of the Fleshound
gives it some minor resistance to
projectiles, while the collars it wears ,
forged at the very base of Khornes s
throne, has extremely potent magical
resistance, enough that even a wounded
Lord of Change couldnt hurt them!
Beasts of Nurgle are very durable foes
thanks to being bloated with so many
diseases, and also have minor
regeneration.
===Additional Factors===

If on a hunt fleshounds can sometimes

emerge randomly on the battlefield, acting as ambushers. Though for the most part their role is to
run up and soften enemy lines. Beasts of Nurgles can be used to corrupt and pollute the land around
them by their very presence.

Mobility: 6 (is a slow flyer)

Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
Max Range: 50m
Effective Range: 20-30m
Preferred Range: Melee

A Plague Drone or rot fly is a horse-sized mutated Beast of Nurgle whose eyes have been awoken to
reality; that no mortal actually likes its gifts. After being rejected and hit countless times the

creature finally becomes fully malevolent, morphing in a cocoon into the flying Plague Drone.
Whereas the Beast was one jovial and friendly the Drone is actively hateful, seeking only to spread
plague because it knows it hurts them.
High-ranking Plaguebearers ride these steeds into battle, loving their perch and faster speed then
the palaguins. The Drone meanwhile, while acceptant of the Plaguebearers present, just wants to
kill. Though usually in limited numbers, in the End Times they have sometimes appeared in massive
hordes that darken the sky.
As the Rot Flies fall upon their prey, blade-sharp legs sink into soft flesh and leathery wings buzz in
a flapping purr of motion. Prehensile probosci and posterior mouth-parts latch onto the faces of
their victims, and the Rot Flies let out titters of mean-spirited laughter as they pluck heads from
necks and swallow them whole. When facing the unremarkable warriors of the mortal realm, a Rot
Fly will slowly digest all meat from a skull before spitting out a plague-infused deaths head that
its Plaguebearer rider can hurl at the foe. Given the chance, though, Rot Flies will hunt down the
impertinent mortals that slew their previous incarnations. These poor creatures are swallowed
completely whole, to digest in their abdomens as torment.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Drone attacks with blade-legs, proboscises lined with plague and a venomous wasplike sting. The Plaguebearer on top has a plague sword and can hurl a plague-infested skull at an
opponent that shatters to pieces upon impact.
Defensive: Its flying and like all of Nurgles minions is pretty durable innately. Also the Plague
Drone has a durable insect-like carapace .

Mobility: 2 (tiny, about up to your shins individually)

Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons, but likely very low)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The rotting bowels of the Great Unclean Ones swell with pus and contagion, and within each
swelling there grows a tiny and malevolent Daemon called a Nurgling. Physically, Nurglings are
miniature versions of Nurgle himself, with friendly mischievous faces, tiny bloated green bodies,
and limbs that are often distorted or disproportionate. Normally they swarm over the body of a
Great Unclean One, picking at his skin, squealing with pleasure if their master favors them with a
titbit or a caress, otherwise squabbling over the most comfortable recesses of his carcass. When
faced with an enemy they advance in a furious swarm, clawing and gnawing at the foes legs, biting
his ankles and licking at any interesting sores or abrasions they discover. Their tiny teeth are as
sharp as razors, leaving festering little bites upon their victims, but rarely killing them outright
although such an attack can prove to be the beginning of a long, disease-ridden demise, as
something nasty takes root in the wound.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Nurglings attack in swarms of dozens
or hundreds, biting and scratching as a means to
attack. Often these wounds lead to infection.
Defensive: Nothing. You can easily kill one just
by stepping on it, though the fact that so many
come at once suggests the need of AOE attacks.
The Kislevite had been a trim, well muscled
warrior in life. Now his abdomen was more
bloated than that of the fellow who had drowned
in the well. He looked like he'd swallowed a
hogshead of Marienburg Ale whole. His belly was
taut as a drum head; so tight that the skin was
splitting. But that wasn't the worst of it. The
balloon of flesh bulged and squirmed like a sack
full of rats.
Reiner pulled on the reins and brought the cart to
a juddering stop, then turned, staring.
'What is it?' asked Hennig. 'I've heard corpses fill
with gas when they-'

His sentence went unfinished, for with a horrible wet pop, the body's stomach erupted in a shower of
rotting flesh and putrid viscera. Reiner and Hennig recoiled, instinctively covering their faces as they
were spattered with clots of stinking flesh. Choking and blinded, they didn't at first notice that, mixed
in with the reeking ejecta, were small snot-coloured creatures that skittered over the cart on tiny,
malformed legs.
The first Reiner knew of them was when one sank needle-like teeth through his boot into the flesh of
his calf. He yelped and knocked it to the ground. His hand came away smeared with slime. Another bit
his left toe. More climbed Hennig's legs. He plucked them off, gagging.
The street, a narrow way lined with tanneries and low taverns, was crowded with idle soldiers, streethawkers and sisters of joy. The slimy vermin leapt off the cart into that river of humanity like fleas,
biting and clawing, and the normal street chatter was replaced by bellows of pain and surprise. A
roiling knot of victims twisted and swatted at the miniature horrors, looking for all the world as if they
performed some strenuous dance. It would have been ludicrous were it not for the unfortunate soul,
who fell, screaming, with eyes plucked out and veins chewed open to the muddy ground.
What are they?' wailed Hennig, trying to knock one loose with his sabre.
'Nurglings!' said Reiner, snatching one off his shoulder and hurling it away. 'Revolting little beasts,
aren't they? Ow!' He stomped on one that was biting his ankle.
Recovering from their initial shock, soldiers lounging outside nearby taverns rushed forward, swinging
swords and stabbing with daggers. Reiner and Hennig jumped down and joined them.
'Second time today,' said a crossbowman. 'Things just like this attacked the camp hospital not two
hours ago. Killed a score of wounded before we put 'em down.'
()
'Hang on, lad.' Reiner grabbed Hennig under the arms and dragged him as fast as he could toward the
closed door. It wasn't fast enough. A nurgling leapt on Reiner's back. Three climbed up his legs.
Another bit into his arm. They were crawling over Hennig like roaches. The boy swatted at them
weakly, but they only bit his hands.
A nurgling clawed Reiner's neck. He dropped Hennig involuntarily and flung the little beast away.
Hennig instantly disappeared under the wave of vermin. Reiner tried to pull him out, but nurglings
swarmed around him, biting and scratching him to the bone. He roared with rage and pain and was
forced to leap onto a parked draycart, stamping his feet and scraping with dagger and sabre to
dislodge the beasts that clung to him. He was bleeding all over.
'Reiner!' shrieked Hennig, his voice unrecognizable in his terror. 'Reiner, save me!'
Hennig was but a thrashing mound under the madly squirming forms. An arm shot up out of the mass,
clawing the air. It was stripped, only a few pink scraps hanging from wet bones. Then the arm sank
again, falling apart as it dropped. The little daemons had even eaten the cartilage.

Reiner's throat constricted. His friend was gone, who had moments before been a laughing, skirtchasing lad with a contagious smile. 'Hennig... Karl. I... Gods, what am I to tell your mother?'
()
'Save me!' cried Anyaka. 'Save me, gentles! He means to slay me!'
'Stop her!' bellowed Reiner. 'She's a sorceress! She's loosed a plague upon us!'
But both appeals were lost in a rising chorus of shrieks and curses as the nurglings erupted from the
kitchen and fell upon the revellers. Harlots screamed and climbed the furniture, drunken knights
roared and bashed at the nurglings with daggers, bottles and candlesticks, shouting for their swords.
In their inebriated state, the men did as much damage to each other as to the nurglings: wild swings
cut fingers, mashed toes and bloodied noses. Fights broke out among friends.
In this carnage the nurglings flourished; raking eyes, biting hands and feet, opening veins in leg, neck
and arm. All over the room harlots and soldiers alike shrieked as blood pumped from shredded
arteries. Others fell to the floor with severed tendons to drown in a chittering swell of teeth and claws.
Caught in this mad whirlpool, Reiner and Anyaka continued their chase. Reiner felt like he was in a
dream, where no matter how swiftly he ran, he moved only inches, but at last he cornered the sorceress
in a romantic nook, complete with a love seat and plaster cherubs.
'Spare me!' cried Anyaka, piteously.
'As you spared Hennig?' Reiner pulled back for the killing thrust, but strong hands pinned his arms.
'How now, sir?' said a black-bearded knight. 'Do you violence to the good lady?'
'For shame.' said another, a blond giant with cavalry braids.
'She's not a good lady.' panted Reiner. 'She's a priestess of Nurgle!'
'Protect me, noble knights!' Anyaka begged. 'It is he who is a servant of Nurgle. It is he who has
summoned these foul vermin.'
'A sorcerer, hey?' said the first knight. 'He has the look.'
'Don't believe her!' said Reiner desperately. 'She wears marks of Chaos carved into her very flesh. Open
her robe and look for yourself.'
The blond knight punched him in the face. 'Swine! Dare you ask us to abuse a Sister of Shallya thus?'
Reiner spat blood. 'But she's-'
He was interrupted as a pack of nurglings discovered the party and attacked. Anyaka bolted from the
alcove. Roaring in pain, the knights dropped Reiner and slashed at the nurglings with wild abandon.

Reiner wormed between the two giants, chopping at clinging nurglings as he went, and ran back into
the salon. He spied Anyaka through the surging crowd, making for the kitchen. He ploughed after her,
and after a frantic push reached the kitchen and rushed through it. A serving maid sobbed, eyeless, in a
corner. The cook lay sizzling in his cooking fire, dead from a thousand bites.- Hetzaus Follies
===Additional Factors===
Always attacks in small swarms and usually found hanging around Great Unclean Ones who it treats
like a parent. Outside of combat and if there is no force of Nurgle nearby Nurglings will veer off on
their own, heading to traces of enemy civilization. There they will inflict all sorts of mischief,
ruining crops and wells, hiding valuables, poisoning the population, expiring food ect.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience:
(Variable for Daemons)
Max Range : 200 meters
Effective Range: 100m
Preferred Range: ^^
Flamers are strange beings,
appearing fungoid in
appearance with tubular
bodies, grimacing faces and
gangly arms. Flamers are
capable of a fair turn of
speed, expelling gaseous
ichor through the fungoid
skirt at their base to bound
and leap across the ground
with considerable
mischievous gusto. As with
Horrors they are shown to be
used as automatons, to be moved by the Lords of Change at will. Hordes of them are described as
appearing on the battlefield.

In combat they usually fling magical yellow and blue flame from afar that doesnt just burn flesh but
reality also. A Flamers victim might briefly feel invigorated, before collapsing into a writhing
puddle of flesh. . Its no less deadly in melee, able to use those flaming arms to char foes as strong
as a knight.

Perhaps most disturbingly when the Flamer is

killing someone a mocking, insubstantial
marionette forms at its feat. This being is a crude
parody of the being before it, but nerveless mocks
its inspiration and everything around it in a
manner both irritating and disturbing. Often the
Flamer itself will get annoyed and kill it but other
times only time causes it to fade away, and
sometimes mocking laughter will be heard on the
battlefield for years afterwards.
There also exists the rare Exalted Flamer. These
are tougher and have greater range with their
flames.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The flamer has the ability to throw
flame at a distance of 100 meters and use it in close
quarters. As Warp flame at times this flame will
randomly do extra damage after hitting or potentially even heal the foe.
Defensive: Nothing other than having some minor reality warping defense as do all daemons of
Tzeentch.

===Additional Factors===
This, like the Nurglings of Nurgle, are the horde
unit of Tzeentch .

Mobility: 9
Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Screamers are glittering sky-sharks of Tzeentchs forces who
are corralled and sent into aerial combat. . By themselves the
screamers, like most but the top of Tzeentchs forces, have no
intelligence of their own and are creatures of instinct. They
normally spend their days prowling the Winds of Magic looking
for souls to eat .
When in a mortal realm they herd in packs, attracted by the
carnage and emotion offered by the battlefield below. When not
under anothers control they behave like sharks in a feeding
frenzy, occasionally
swooping down to tear
throw armor and gobble
the mortal below. This has
been described as
somewhat indiscriminate
feeding, and it seems
likely they might attack
the minions of Chaos as
well as those of its
enemies. However they
can be controlled by savvy
minions of Change such as
its Lords and directed
tactically to hit enemy
artillery, swarm a isolated
force or engage enemy
flying units.

So swift and agile are Screamers that they are highly sought after as steeds, however their
instinctive nature swiftly proves calamitous should their controllers attention wander. As such, a
Screamer has to be transmuted into a new form before it can safely be used as a mount. See Discs
of Tzeentch profile for more.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: It is a flying creature that mostly attacks with a lamprey-like mouth and slashing claws.
Defensive: Nothing other than having some minor reality warping defense as do all daemons of
Tzeentch.
===Additional Factors===
This is another swarm creature, like the Flamer or Nurgling.

Mobility: 9
Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

The grey seer turned to flee, coming up short as

he saw his way blocked by a grotesque daemonthing. It was as big as an ox-rat, scuttling towards
him on six spiky legs, its snake-like head tapering
into a puckered mouth from which an obscene
tongue flickered. Enormous claws sprouted from its
shoulders and arched over its scaly back was a
club-like tail tipped by a dripping stinger.
Nashrik cried out in fright, focusing his mind
upon a spell to obliterate the disgusting
monstrosity. Yet even as he tried to work his magic,
his nose was filled with a strange, sickly-sweet
scent. His thoughts became fuzzy, coherence
collapsing beneath a warm idiocy. The warpstone
fell from Nashriks slackened grip, rolling away into
the grass. The grey seer stood unmoving as the
daemon-beast crawled towards him. He didnt even try to escape the mangling claws that snapped
tight about his body or cry out when the poisoned stinger stabbed into his chest.- Hour of Shadows,
Storm of Magic
Fiends are incredibly swift, able to skitter and scuttle across all manner of terrain at
frightening speed. There is something disturbing about a Fiends gait, for its twitching dance rocks
it from side to side. In this way, a Fiend will take at least three or four steps for every pace it
advances, splayed legs beating out an arrhythmic toccata that praises the glory of the Dark Prince of
Chaos. The Fiends sing to one another as they run, emanating a high-pitched and pervasive chitter
that few mortals consciously hear.
Though a Fiend is perhaps frailer than other Daemons of the same stature, only a fool would
underestimate its combat prowess. Quite apart from the significant peril posed by the Fiends

deadly claws, an adversary should also be wary of the stinger atop its supple and segmented tail.
This barb is laced with soporific venom capable of sending even a battle maddened Bloodletter
into a deep coma. Similarly, the Fiend exudes a pervasive and oily musk that, when inhaled,
courses through its victims body, gnawing away at centers of reason and numbing the foe, slowing
them down in combat.
A corner of the battlefield under attack from Fiends of Slaanesh is often quiet, with musk-addled
victims waiting insensate for the Fiends to deliver the fatal blow. This oblivion can be a time
coming, for Fiends are no less given to torture than the D ark Princes other minions. When the
effects of the Fiends musk fade, the victim experiences simultaneous agony from a dozen
wounds.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: It is armed with pincer like claws and a barbed tail loaded with one of the most potent
sleep-inducing toxins ever conceived. Their reaction time exceeds even elves.
Defensive: The musk that surrounds the Slaaneshi daemon slowly gnaws away the centers of
reason, resulting in those in its immediate presence moving and attacking slower.
===Additional Factors===
Normally these creatures hand around the flanks of the Slaaneshi force, trying to envelop when the
battle proper begins. According to the Malus Darkblade chronicles, they are agile enough to
vertically climb up walls!

Mobility: 8
Training/Experience: (Variable for
Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Spell Range
Preferred Range: Spell
Unlike the ground-based chariots of his
fellow gods, Tzeentchs are fully capable of
flight and are more skirmisher based then
melee . When they appear on the battlefield
they suddenly burst from the heavens like a
flying comet. Exalted flamers riding on top of
this vessel hurls down magical flame , bolts
of change or even spells down on the
targets below.
These chariots are piloted by discs and
screamers who ride the Winds of Magic and
feed on its residue. Occasionally they will
also have, in addition to the flamer, two surly
Blue Horrors who ride these beasts to get
away from the incessantly cheerful Pink
Horror. While in general these passengers just jeer insults at foes below, they will nevertheless rain
down peppering fire and bite , club or throttle those that get too close.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Exalted Flamer primarily can use two types of flame. That of the Pink Horror attacks
a singular or a couple targets with great force, while that of the Blue Horror is akin to grapeshot. As
Warpflame, this attack has a chance to do even greater damage over time or randomly heal the
enemy. The Flamer has a staff in case enemies get close, while the Blue Horrors club or bite.
Defensive: Its main defense is that its a fast flying machine that can be rather difficult to hit.
===Additional Factors===
Can be used by Heralds as a mount (see Chariots of the Gods).

Mobility: 8
Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Seeker Chariots are not subtle creations. As the

straining steeds urge the chariot to full speed,
swirling shapes sear the air with unholy hues and
the metal axles screech in a disharmony akin to
the wailing of tormented souls. Indeed, to stand
against such machinery is not simply a
contest of arms, but a struggle of wills that
shakes the boundaries of sanity. When the
chariot finally crashes home, the Daemonettes
dance from yoke to spar, laughing as their
disemboweling strikes weave bloody trails in the
air.
Heralds of Slaanesh often elect to ride into battle
atop an Exalted Chariot. From here, the Herald
can reach down to whisk victims from the
chariots razored maw. Such is not an act of
kindness. Indeed, enemies claimed in this
manner soon start screaming to be returned to
the embrace of the merciless blades below, if it
means they will remain not a moment longer in
the grasp of the doting Heralds cruel affections.
Traditionally Hellflayers were used as corpse cleanup by Slaanesh, who hated that they were
polluting the perfect purity of his realm. Their blades were perfect for cutting up corpses into very
small and neat pieces Slaanshs plants could devour. Those unlucky Daemonettes assigned to aid in
this duty were greatly aggrieved, for tending corpses leads to no extremes of emotion or thrill that
combat does. It could be so boring that Daemonettes would eventually waste away from lack of
sensation. So one day one pair of particularly willful Daemonettes brought a Hellflayer directly to
the battlefield.

The result was pure slaughter . Within moments, blades prepared for rotting corpses proved just as
keen when set upon living flesh. Severed heads and limbs flew like chaffed wheat; daemonic
ichor spattered across the Hellflayer;s steeds and crew. It drove the Daemonettes into ecstasy. As
its blades sank into flesh, each victims every suffering was transmuted into a spiritual incense so
intoxicating that it drove the Daemonettes into an impassioned frenzy, magnifying their
speed until their strikes became so swift that no eye could follow them.

When Slaanesh found out he was both pissed and

happy beyond measure. While the Daemonttes who
brought the Hellflayer to battle were turned into
giant unfeeling statues the Chaos god finally relented
and allowed Hellflayers to come into combat. Though
comparably rare, ever since then Hellflayers have
been driven in the vanguard of a strike force, its
blades slicing and maiming.
Three of the wretches were slaughtered instantly,
dragged into that maelstrom of wicked Daemon-steel.
The fourth, through some laughing fate, became
snagged on the central chain. For a moment he hung
there, his heels scraped Moody as the machine charged
on. One of the Daemonettes reached out a claw. At first
she caressed the wretch's cheek, like a mother soothing
a frightened child. Then, as I knew it must, her doting
smile transformed into a leer of pure wickedness. The
claw was a blur as it snipped at the victims wrists. A
moment later all that remained of the fellow were his
severed hands - still clutching the chain - and an empty scream echoing through the night.'
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Seeker chariots have scythes attached to their wheels, are pulled by steeds with that
tongue attack, and daemonettes reach out with claws. The Hellflayer has all that but its scythes are
more akin to being a lawnmower.
Defensive: Little defense for mounts or drivers but vehicle is pretty durable.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: (Variable for Daemons)
MaxEffective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

The throne was nothing less than an exultation of war

in its purest and most depraved sense. It cared nothing for
honor, glory or even the righteousness of a well-earned
vengeance.'
The Blood Throne was designed and made in a pale
imitation of the Blood Gods own throne however
was it includes some mobility. Its a daemon-machine, a
living sentient organism that like the skull cannon, longs
to kill as much as its herald rider. Strategy and tactics
neither cares anything for, only the acquisition of blood
and skulls.
When battle is sighted and a particularly audacious foe
is found the Herald will beckon his Throne forward. While Khorne does not care from whence the
blood flows, individual skulls are not all created equal, and a champions will be worth far more
than a grunts. As the Throne moves forward acrid soul-smoke bellows from its exhaust, gears clank
and the daemon engine roars. If the Herald stands high enough in Khornes favor to have a loci of
the Blood Gods power then all followers of Khorne around the chariot are infused with the
bloodgods unbridled wrath, increasing their fury and ferocity.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Blood Throne is a sentient machine that can crush and eat foes. The Herald wields
whatever he wields from that section while the Bloodletter crew uses hellbaldes.
Furthermore the Totem of Endless Bloodletting that can sometimes be seen on these creations
drastically increases the effect radius of the Heralds loci to all units within 25 meters.
Defensive: The Blood Throne is a powerful and durable brass construction that can regenerate
whenever it eats foes.

Mobility: 4
Training/Experience: (Variable for
Daemons)
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
I watched as the Furies picked over the
corpse, squabbling in harsh tongues as
they argued over the juiciest morsels from
the feast.'
Chaos Furies are the embodiment of pure Chaos. With little in the way of intelligence, Furies are
utterly subservient to the whims of the D ark Gods, and shift in aspect and power as the balance of
the dark pantheon alters. They are easily subjugated by other Daemons, whom they regard with a
mix of dread and awe. However they are not always treated the same by daemonkind. Those of
Tzeentch like to use them as messengers and spies for instance, while Khorne does not generally
use them unless he has no other means left to kill with.
Furies swarm at the edges of the battle, avoiding the thickest fighting if they can. This is
because they are cowards by nature, deeply afraid of death and pain. More often than not their
victims are the wounded and disabled while on the battlefield, for only when they are sure they
can get a kill without much toil will they go for it; otherwise they might run away! However when
these furies descend en masse they are described as a wailing mass from which there can be no
escape. Those who flee are chased by natural predators who will not cease so long as they are able
to chase. Also can be controlled by chaos sorcerers and forced into battle en masse.
==LOADOUT==

Offensive: The Chaos fury attacks with claws

and dozens of needle-like teeth.
Defensive: Other than it can fly nothing, and
the Fury is noted for being very weak for a
daemon.
===Additional Factors===
Chaos Furies never appear except in Swarms, and are thus used in that fashion.

This page is a listing of those elite mounts available to the armies of Chaos that dont have
individual unit profiles. For example those like the Tuskagor or Razorgor shall be described in their
accompanying chariot profiles . In general the units here can be considered rare, limited either to
Storm of Magic summons or as mounts to the Lords of the Legions of Chaos. In addition to those
seen here, a few Chaos Lords might ride Skullcrushers, Steeds of Slaanesh or Chaos Dragons
described in their own profiles.

Known as the Steeds of Chaos, or sometimes Steeds of the Gods these are massive horse-like
chargers with steel fangs, burning eyes, sharp horns, bony plates, and an evil attitude. No mortal
horse are these, but rather daemons in horse form, sent to the mortal realm to serve a
particularly powerful warrior.
Their appearance can vary heavily upon which god sent them. Those of Khorne are brutal bear-like
beasts with claws that can disembowel in one blow, while Slaaneshs are more serphentine
and agile. Pestilence comes from the breath of those of Nurgle, while Tzeentchs, barring usual
randomness, are described as sickly beasts with surprisingly great strength.

Discs of Tzeentch are screamers (see said profile) bound and transmuted into an easily mountable
form. In accordance with Tzeentchs traits they are often refashioned into a thousand different
combinations, including those discs with a hundred eyes, made of living metal etc. However all of
these discs are capable of flying via riding the currents of the Winds of Magic. Serving as
mounts for mortal Tzeentch Chaos sorcerers or daemonic servants, these discs are capable of
defending themselves with magical fire, lashing tentacles , a lamprey-like mouth or rending
claws.

Palanquins of Nurgle are ornate thrones with decaying cushions that are carried by hordes of
Nurglings into battle. Though much slower than other mounts (about as fast as a man), these
creatures offer increased status for Nurgles followers as they show Nurgles favor. In addition the
mount itself is hardly defenseless, and any melee attackers that try to attack the champion are often
dragged to the dirt by the Nurglings and torn apart.

A manticore is an extremely vicious and rare beast found in the Chaos Wastes that is so hostile that
even Chaos Lords, the only ones who can ride this creature, have trouble doing so- and this is after
magical binding and ritual. So aggressive is it that it will throw itself blindly against whatever
encroaches upon its territory, even if the offender is a massive and much more formidable Emperor
Dragon! Surprisingly the winner, except in cases of perhaps the most formidable dragons, is usually
the manticore.
In battle Manticores attack with rage beyond any mortal capacity, being all akin to the ragepossessed of 28 days later (without the ability to spread the virus) . It can attack with a long, lashlike and venomous tail, rending claws and powerful fangs. Its skin, hard as steel, shows how
difficult this beast can be to kill. However if its rider (or someone who is controlling it via Scrolls of
Binding) is killed then it will revert entirely to a frenzied state, attacking both sides with equal
fury!

The Tauruses have become a holy symbol among the Chaos Dwarves, for that is what form they
view their god takes. These are truly
vicious creatures, the terrors of the
Dark Lands. In form no two Taurus
are ever quite alike, and the
mightiest of them are truly massive
beasts that never die except by
violence, named as Bale Taurus in
dark legend. All bear the overall
semblance of a huge, winged,
daemonic bull whose flesh burns
with the intensity of a living furnace
sufficient to wreath it in smoke and
spark the ground afire beneath its
hooves and against which arrow and
blade alike perishes to cinders and
ruin.
None but the highest servants of
Hashut and the most powerful of
fire-wizards can hope to master
these hellish monsters, and the
infernal stables of the crimson and
bronze Taurus beneath the great
temple of Zharr-Naggrund are heated
by sacrificial fires kept burning night and day to appease the sacred beasts kept there. Indeed, it is
only by means of the most complex and dangerous spells that a Chaos Dwarf Sorcerer can even
mount such a dangerous creature without themselves succumbing to their incinerating heat and
voracious appetites.
Powerful Chaos Dwarfs ride Great Tauruses into battle, the creature burns with a terrific intensity,
so that its whole body is wreathed in fire and smoke. When it moves across the ground sparks fly
From its hooves and lightning plays about its feet. It breathes fire in great snorting bursts and black
smoke curls from its gaping maw. The Chaos Dwarfs believe that the Great Tauruses were once
Chaos Dwarfs, and that they were mutated by the warping power of Chaos into living bull-furnaces
like the statue of the god Hashut himself. For that reason The Chaos Dwarfs sometimes call the
Great Tauruses the Red Bulls of Hashut.

In combat the Great Taurus utilizes its own flame breath, hooves, and burning body that
immolates any that stray too close. It cannot be hurt by fire at all, and indeed if a fire spell hits it
the Great Taurus will use that energy to heal. The Bale Taurus might have the flame breathe,
hooves, a powerful eviscerating tail, or ossified skin as hard as plate armor. Both can fly.

Though usually ridden by the Chaos Dwarf lord,

rarely they might be sent in at the bound command
of Dawi Zharr sorcerers.

The Lammasu has the body of a gigantic bull, a

powerful mace-tipped tail, borne on vast leathery
wings, with lion-like claws instead of hooves and the
face of a huge Chaos Dwarf, cloaked in smoke and
shadow. The Chaos Dwarfs believe that the
Lammasu is a rare mutation of the Great Taurus, a
creature whose forebears were once Chaos Dwarfs,
but which has become twisted by the powers of
Chaos into a huge bull-shaped monster. The
Lammasu's ancestry is evident in its tusked head, its
thickly curled beard, and its considerable
intelligence. It is a creature with magical properties. It breathes not ordinary air but the power of
magic itself, drawing into itself the power of the winds of magic. As it exhales the creature breathes
out whirling clouds of black sorcery which wreathe themselves around the Lammasu, enwrapping
it with protective power.
The Lammasu is a wise and crafty beast that makes its lair in the Dark Lands. The Chaos Dwarfs
believe it to be a rare mutation of Great Taurus, one
that is not only acclimated to magic, but that also lives
and breathes the very stuff of sorcery. Indeed, the
Lammasu possesses a minor, but potent, spellcasting
ability, the backwash of which manifests as sorcerous
black clouds that curl about the beast every time it
breathes. This magical exhalation protects the
Lammasu from hostile spells. Furthermore, enemies
fighting Lammasu in melee often find the smoky
threads of sorcery befouling their magic weapons,
dampening, their power and preventing them from
striking the beast to full effect.
--Great description from Storm of Magic
As the description noted this creature is nearly
entirely immune to enemy spells and is a minor
spellcaster in its own right, able to use some spells
from the Lore of Fire, Death and Shadow. In close
combat it can breathe pure deadly magic and attack
with hooves, horns and even sometimes a spiked tail. These are the exceptionally rare
creatures, and only the greatest of the great Chaos Dwarf Lords will ride one.

Mobility: 1-2 (6 if it can get a lock on a

mage)
Training/Experience: 2-3
Max & Effective Range: 360 m
Preferred Range: Melee
Standing over thirty feet tall, the
cygor is the distant and unfortunate
cousin of the minotaur. From its birth
the cygor is cursed to see not the
material realm through its single eye,
but the winds of magic. Trees, most
rocks, and other geography do not
register in its sight and so it spends
most of its time crashing into such
obstacles. Too regular men and
animals only barely appear in its sight
and the Cygor has trouble perceiving
much of anything in the swirling rush
of melee. What it can and does perceive
though, with great clarity, are wizards and other magic users.
This range of detection can be many miles and does not just apply to wizards. Magical items,
armor, weapons, the undead, and any summoned creatures that are also magical can be seen
perfectly. Once detected the Cygor will lumber forward at terrible speeds, eager to drain the souls
of these magic users. This is why the Cygor invokes great terror in enemy magicians.
A Cygor is lured to the brayherd by either taunting visions sent by the Dark Gods or a powerful
bray-shaman. Past that there is little coordination between the two groups. When unleashed on the
battlefield Cygors seek magic users or magical creatures like sharks seek blood. They will
instinctively charge towards such figures, giving everything else only the most cursory of glances. If
enemy ranks prove particularly annoying then the cygor will hurl giant rune-inscribed boulders
at them to smash them out of the way. Nothing can truly dissuade it for it is immune to fear effects
and resistant to any orders whatsoever to get it to retreat. Should he catch his prey the Cygor will
devour it mind, body, and most importantly soul.

The giant figure resembled the beastmen at its feet, ox-headed, cloven-hoofed and draped in human
bones and skin, but it had been magnified to insane proportions. It reared over the tree spirits, more
than thirty feet tall and crowned with enormous, horizontal horns. As it entered the smoke-wreathed
battle it glared down at the mayhem with an enormous, cyclopean eye.
Isha preserve us, Caorann heard one of the archers say. What is it?
Eremon howled another furious order, demanding that the kinbands maintain their fire, but some of
the archers were too shocked to obey. As they watched the giant approaching through the smoke, they
lowered their bows and backed towards the water, muttering prayers under their breath.
Caorann frowned as he watched the monsters advance. It moved with odd, lurching bounds, shaking
embers from the surrounding trees as it pounded across the sacred meadow. Its movements were
random; there seemed no logic to its erratic lunges and it appeared confused by the crowds surging
around its legs. Then Caorann gasped as he saw the giant fix its lantern-like gaze on a forest spirit: a
ghostly blackthorn, tearing and hacking its way through the battle. The giant beastman abandoned its
erratic wandering and leapt with shocking speed, reaching down with unnerving accuracy and
wrenching the spirit from the ground. There was a groan of splintering roots as the monster lifted the
thrashing shape up into the air and bit into it like a choice cut of meat.
Caorann watched in horror as the cyclopean creature gorged itself on the spirit. As it did so, the light
in its enormous eye blazed even brighter. Then it fixed its malevolent gaze on another forest spirit,
wrenched it from the ground and destroyed it with a snort of pleasure. It was as though it could see
the ghostly spectres with more ease than its own army.
Its eye, muttered Caorann. It is not fixed on this world. It sees the realm of the spirits.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Rune inscribed giant boulders for range, though occasionally he hurts himself with it.
Also has massively oversized claws and horns for close combat.
Defensive: Counts as magically resistant and is also very tough given its size however of course its
eye is a weak point.

==Additional
Factors==
Due to the nature of
the creature and the
difficulty in getting it
to come along with
the army, this can
creature can be
considered "rare".
However as the
Wood Elf novel series
shows, this rarity can
still translate into
dozens of these
creatures being
present on the
battlefield at once if
the Beastmen come
en masse.

Mobility: 7
Training/Experience: 2-3
Max & Effective Range: 100
meters
Preferred Range: Melee

"The Jabberslythe is a creature

so disturbing to look at, that an
aura of madness surrounds it.
To gaze at such a beast is to
invite having your sanity
ripped asunder. It is said that
a Jabberslythe is so horrible to view, that even clear pools of water will not offer up a reflection and
that those unfortunate enough to get an unobstructed look at them are likely to claw out their own
eyes in an attempt to escape the nightmarish visions that will forever haunt them.

The Jabberslythe is a hulking thing that combines the unwholesome appearances of a toad, sludgedrake and a many-limbed insect. It has rudimentary wings that allow short bursts of ungainly
flight and its gaping maw houses a long, sticky proboscis-like tongue that darts out to snare prey.
Jabberslythes are always hungry. Attracted to any noise or movement, they lurk in the undergrowth
of the deepest parts of large forests, immobile save for great hooded eyes that watch for the
slightest twitch. When victims are detected, the Jabberslythe bursts forth, the sight of such a
hideous creature stunning its quarry into madness.
It will then lollop towards them, scooping up the gibbering foe and devouring them to the sounds of
their own maniacal noises which sound much like the laughter of madmen. Those that somehow
cling to their sanity must face the Jabberslythes vorpal claws and the fanged orifice that serves as
the creatures mouth. When wounded, the foul beast spurts not blood, but an acidic black fluid
that burns anything it touches making fighting a Jabberslythe an even deadlier proposition."
--From Scrolls of Binding

Even the Beastmen fear the nearly thirty-foot tall Jabberslythe, for they too go mad within its
aura. However gifted shamans can ensure that the Jabberslythe avoids the brayherd as much as
possible and head directly for the enemy. The sight of the enemy line crumbling in terror and
insanity is most pleasing to the Beastmen.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Jabberslythe has an extremely long and strong tongue that can extend outward
dozen s of meters before pulling it in. At closer ranges it has its powerful jaw and deadly
claws. Some variants also have a lash tail.
Metternich cursed and Felixs attention was drawn upwards in the moment before something long
and pale shot down out of the darkness, slapping against Metternichs face like a wet rag. The
mercenary dropped his torch and reached up to claw at the fleshy tendril. Even as the first muffled
scream issued from his mouth, he was yanked bodily into the darkness above, his legs kicking futilely. A
moment later, there was a crunch and then a deluge of blood that struck the floor like a hard rain. Still
chewing on the luckless mercenary a monstrous shape scuttled along the curve of the ceiling, marking
its path with a trail of blood. Felix peered into the darkness above, raising his torch to try and see what
it was that they faced. At his feet, the maddened halfling was whining like a whipped dog.-Marriage of
Moment
However its most powerful move is its aura of insanity that effects everything within 100 meters. In
particular it is said to look at the creature is far worse than just being in its presence The
effectiveness of such an aura is determined by the following modifiers - morale, bravery,
discipline, determination (represented in game with the attribute "leadership"), any magical
resistance, and how much the unit is naturally immune to such attacks (i.e. without
capability of fear).. A heroic character like Gotrek, for example, has no problems looking directly at
a Jabberslythe and fighting it however the halflings around him at the time, even Felix, would have
gone mad doing so. For those cowardly fighters without discipline expect whole swathes to go
insane or rout. For those supersoldiers who have fought this type of monster before and score
high among those modifiers, expect little effect from this aura.
Felix recognised the dandified halfling whod first spoken out against his inclusion. The fancy hat,
with its feather, lay stomped into shapelessness nearby, and its owner was curled into a whimpering
ball, arms over his head and his sword still in its sheath. More startling, however, was the fact that his
hair had turned a greasy shade of white.-Marriage of Moment
Without warning something monstrous burst out from the largest of the caves, blood drizzling from
its bearded maw. Part toad, part insect, part dragon, the thing was so vile that even Spumes elite
warriors stumbled backwards at the sight. A clawed tongue shot through the air where the largest of
their number had stood a heartbeat before stumbling away, the sticky appendage retracting with a
snap. The drooling monster gave a guttural roar that attacked the mind from within. Several of the
armoured warriors cried out, smashing axes and mauls into their own helmets in an attempt to escape
the raw hideousness assaulting their senses.

(..)
Suddenly a horrible snorting bawl rang out across the clearing. Attracted by the strange moonlight
that had lit the clearing, the Harbingers jabberslythe flopped into the fray, its greasy bulk slamming a
trio of ungor into boneless mush as it passed. The air itself shimmered and writhed at the foul beasts
presence as it loped into the ranks of the savage orcs. All around it greenskins shivered and shook,
hacking at their own bodies in fits of raw madness as the creatures indescribable aura worked its
strange magic. The jabberslythe opened its bearded maw wide, shooting its sticky, grasping tongue
high to pluck the goblin shaman from its cobwebbed perch. The shrieking greenskin was yanked into
the beasts mouth, vanishing with a wet smack of rubbery lips.
- Glottkin
Defensive: Its large and thus already quite resistant to attacks. Also has acid blood that sprays
everywhere when hit.
==Additional Factors==
Due to the nature rarity of these creatures, risk of having them along, and difficulty in getting them
to obey orders, expect them to be rare. That said, as Gotrek and Felix short story Marriage of
Moment reveals that some Jabberslythes molt and through this molting breed more of them.
Though these creatures lack the insanity inducing auras of the adults they can still rip apart foes in
numbers. Just one Jabberslythe can create dozens of little ones.
The sound of skittering had grown louder. For a moment, Felix thought he was the only one to hear it
and then he saw the guards eyes widen in sudden horror.
One cursed and ripped his sword from its sheath, even as a horde of miniature jabberslythes poured
out from the tunnel, stunted wings flapping, tiny mouths open in a sibilant cacophony of mingled
shrieks. Men screamed as the typhoon of biting, clawing, screaming monsters enveloped them. Felix
cursed and swept his cloak out and around him, knocking the creatures from the air. He lashed out
with his torch, setting several alight. Others landed on him, biting and snarling shrilly.
Gotrek was cursing and roaring, whirling his axe about with brutal abandon. Shandeux screamed as
he was bowled over by a number of the creatures. The halfling kicked and howled and then fell silent
as he disappeared beneath the creatures. Felix hesitated and saw Esme and Stefano striking out at the
attacking beasts with their daggers. Quick, under my cloak, he shouted. The two halflings did as he
said, and Felix did the best he could to keep them all covered beneath the thick wool garment.
Gotrek had picked up a fallen torch and was whipping it about along with his axe. Get the hair-foots
out of here, manling!
What about you? Felix shouted.
Ill be along in a moment! Go!

Hunching his shoulders against the battering cloud of monsters, Felix started moving towards the exit.
Through a rip in the material, he saw a guard pitch forward, covered in a living blanket of struggling,
frog-like bodies. From the sound of his screams, Felix thought the man was being eaten alive. He flailed
about him with his torch as they ran through the corridors and back into the keep.
The jabberslythes seemed intent only on attacking everything that moved. Servants and guards and
halflings alike were running through the keep, screaming and cursing as the plague of little creatures
spread through the interior of the keep in an orgy of gnashing teeth and foul, frog-like bodies. Shaking
the last few determined creatures off his cloak, he turned, hoping to see Gotrek following them.Marriage of Moment

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 3-4
Max Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

Of the beastmen even the minotaurs look up in

fear at the massive Ghorgon. And with good
reason, for in addition to having stupendous size
it is also the ultimate embodiment of a
beastman's eternal hunger and hatred. If left to
its own devices it will freely gorge on an entire
Beastman encampment in a single night. All
beastmen believe that by eating their enemies
they gain their strength, and the Ghorgons
embody their belief wholeheartedly.
They are massive four armed titans. In two
arms are blades or axes to cut up prey, in two
other arms are grasping hands with which to swallow enemies hole. Sometimes they possess
truly bizarre mutations like mouths erupting out of their entire body or a giant one where the heart
should be leading directly to the stomach.
The only way the beastherd can control these creatures is through shamans, and even then it takes
dozens of ordinary beastmen (most likely ungors) per Ghorgon to keep them satiated
through campaign. If the controlling shaman were ever to die, such numbers would skyrocket.
However it is worth it though for once these creatures appear on the battlefield they unleash untold
destruction on the enemy, breaking through ranks and swallowing everything it can whole. Of
course its borderline uncontrollable in this state and won't listen to commands, however the
damage and sheer terror it invokes does wonders to enemy morale. Still on at least on occasion a
gang of Ghorgons would have broken Imperial lines and nearly won a battle for the Beastmen
against the Empire, however they stopped in the middle of battle to consume those they killed.
Partially as a result of that the battle was won by a rallying Empire.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: It has two arms with cleavers/axes, two arms with strength enough to crush men, and
the potential many, many mouths. Anything beneath it gets trampled.

Defensive: Not only is it incredibly large and

durable, but as it eats it actually regenerates
wounds.
==Additional Factors==
Logistics wise the more of these creatures
there are, the more Beastmen will have to
feed their own to it.

Mobility: Can run at a 6, but has trouble not tripping and falling so it gets a 3. Siege Giants
apparently have so much trouble they get a 2.
Training/Experience: 4-5
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Giants are massive, monstrous humanoids, around sixty feet tall, with a tendency towards
violence, consumption of those smaller than them, and alcohol. Such traits obviously endear them
greatly to the legions of chaos, and they can frequently be found among the armies of Beastmen,
Warriors of Chaos, and even Chaos Dwarves . In battle they wade through enemy ranks,
slaughtering all those in their path at will.
Long ago, many millennia, giants once had a peaceful realm, masters of great domains at the tips of
mountains. Unfortunately the barbarous ogres, who live to eat everything, came upon these great
domains . Though Ogres were creatures vastly smaller than the Giants, these giants tended to live in
solitude, while ogres grouped up. Thus though the purge took a long time, it was complete and
resulted in the near extinction of their species.
Giants have since rebounded but they are a far-cry now from the once peaceful beings. Corrupted
by Chaos, they are now extremely malevolent and unintelligent. They are a part of no army
now, only following behind and joining in for the sole purpose of slaughter. This and the siren call of
Chaos has now become instinctive among their race.
Giants don't follow orders, both because the idea of taking orders from something far smaller than
them is laughable and because it makes their heads hurt. The most Chaos commanders can get out
of these creatures is the understanding that Chaos has much blood and death to offer them in
return for inflicting carnage and not killing too many of their own men. In battle they thus
instinctively wade into enemy ranks, alternating between a myriad of actions, while Chaos
commanders plan around the distraction they inflict.
If Chaos giants have a weakness it is that they are extremely ungainly. They have an unfortunate
tendency to sometimes fall down when they attempt to stomp an enemy, flee, cross any sort of
rough terrain, or beat in close quarters combat. Those that it falls upon, which can include chaos
forces, are squished.

The ground shook as the giant approached, until he was in full sight, towering ten times the height of
the orcs he accompanied. He was naked except for a loincloth crudely cut from the hide of a bull, its
skull still attached, and in his monstrous right fist the giant clasped a club hewn from a tree, a boulder
inexpertly wedged into its splitting branches and tied in place with thick rope. Goblins scattered as the
giant approached, dodging out from under his huge feet as rocks were pulverised under his tread.
'Mother of Sigmar...' said Soval, his arms dropping limply to his sides, axes slipping from his
fingers.
'Don't blaspheme!' snapped Ursula, sheathing her sword. She grabbed the dog of war's axes
and thrust them into his hands. He took them, blinked at Ursula and then nodded to show that he was
alright.

A sharp crack echoed off the walls and a puff of smoke wisped into the air as one of the
marksmen turned from the fight with the orc archers at the far end of the convoy and targeted the
giant. The bullet whistled overhead and smacked into the giant's leg. The giant gave a surprised grunt
and looked at the humans waiting nervously in the canyon. He looked down stupidly at the thin trail of
blood trickling down his thigh from the pinprick wound and then back up again.
The giant's shout was deafening as it bounced off the canyon walls, shaking the wagons and
causing rocks to cascade down to the valley floor. Ursula clamped her hands to the ears, dizzied by the
volume of the roar.
'Gurt hurt!' the giant yelled, raising his club into the air. The monster broke into a lumbering
run, his foot squashing a wolf rider who had been caught unawares by the sudden charge.
Covering a dozen yards with every stride, the giant lumbered up the mountainside, his broad
mouth twisted in anger, a deep scowl creasing his heavy set brow. The horses were whinnying in terror
behind Ursula, straining at their traces, the mules braying and kicking to be freed from their tethers.
The orcs and goblins swarmed forward in the giant's wake, their hoarse cheers accompanied by the
clattering of their weapons, rapid drumbeats and brash horn blasts.
'Hold the line!' roared Leonard, striding forward, zweihander held aloft. 'Hold and we can
win!'
Ursula felt a large presence next to her and she glanced right to see Ruprecht standing close
by, warhammer head resting at his feet. He looked calmly up at the onrushing giant, shielding the sun
from his eyes with the bandaged and bloodied stump of his left arm.
'Aren't you afraid?' she asked in amazement, her own voice trembling.
'Bloody terrified,' Ruprecht said between gritted teeth, not looking round.
A short laugh burst from Ursula's mouth, edged with mania.
'Don't worry, I've survived uglier things than this,' Ruprecht said. Ursula couldn't see his eyes
and so had no way of telling if he was being truthful or not.
The giant was just fifty yards away now. A crackling volley of pistol fire from the Black
Company engulfed the monstrous creature, his skin erupting in a welter of small bloody explosions as
bullets tore through his leathery skin. Moaning in pain, the giant's advance slowed for a moment, and
then resumed.
'Red Spear forward!' ordered Swinefever, leading his company half a dozen paces ahead of the
Black Company. 'Prepare to receive the charge!'
Another giggle erupted from Ursula, as the horrendous understatement of the command
struck her.
'Don't lose it now, girl,' said Ruprecht, turning to face her, his eyes angry. 'You're better than
that.'

The approaching giant's shadow fell over the assembled soldiers, and a chill enveloped them.
Ursula shivered. I really am going to die here, she thought, drawing her sword again. It was ludicrously
thin compared to the sun-blocking bulk of the giant.
The fury of the giant fell on the Red Spears as it barrelled into them, swinging its club in a wide
arc. Many ducked the blow, their spears snapped in two or wrenched from their grasps, but three of
them were plucked from the ground and hurled through the air, the bloody pulp of their remains
splashing onto the rocks just in front of Ursula.
Those who still could, struck back with their demi-pikes, lancing the steel tips into the flesh of
the giant, more hafts snapping as they encountered the creature's tough hide, a few biting into the
thick muscle and fat beneath. The giant ignored their blows and raised his club over his head again.
The Black Company charged forward, heedless of the orcs that were closing in, their
greatswords flashing towards the giant. Bellowing in pain from its wounds, the giant raised its foot up,
and then brought it down on the swordsmen, shattering blades and crushing bodies. A childish yet
deafening laugh gurgled from the giant's throat as he raised his foot and stamped on the Black
Company again, reducing another handful of men to a ragged mess on the cracked stone floor of the
valley.
As the giant's foot lifted into the air for a third time, the Red Spears drove forwards, punching
their demi-pikes into the sole of the giant's bare foot. The laughing turned to a confused mewing as the
giant raised his foot higher to avoid the blows.
With a startled grunt, the giant began to topple backwards, tree trunk club falling from his
thick fingers and crushing two of the spearmen as he waved his arms in a vain attempt to stay
balanced. The goblins that had followed the giant up the hill faltered in their charge and then turned
to flee as his massive bulk came crashing down towards them. Over a dozen of them were not fast
enough, disappearing beneath the immense body of the giant, their panicked screeches cut short.
This scene comes from Blades of Chaos . Note that the giant featured would be very similar to a
regular Chaos Giant, though the Orc Giant is taller
then average and has no mutations. .

Men and Beasts of Chaos are not the only ones

that have taken note of the power of the Giant.
Too the Chaos Dwarfs have cast their wary but
greedy eyes on this beast; wary of past losses, but
greedy for future profit. A few of them have been
captured, often at great cost, and enslaved by the

pitiless dwarves. Being Dwarves, they are unable to resist improving upon them.
Most captured giants dont survive these improvements, but those that do are truly horrifying
creatures to face in combat. They are huge towers of iron and flesh capable of knocking down
fortifications and plowing through enemy armies. Weapons, ranging from vehicle sized picks to
weighted chain flails, and implanted on their arms. This is at the cost of being about 2x more
unwieldy then the normal Chaos giant. Such is the power and rarity of the creature that the Chaos
Dwarves are loath to trade them out to other armies for all but the most extortionate of prices.
Titanic shapes loomed over the warriors scrambling ahead of them towards the walls. They shoved
their way through the ruins, scattering rubble in their wake. They were immense, far larger than any
living thing had a right to be, and when they roared, the sky itself seemed to shiver in fright. The
lumpy, awkward figures strode forwards, heedlessly crushing men with every step. They were clad in
piecemeal armour, and great plates were seemingly riveted to their gangly limbs. Faces that were
yards across squirmed and grimaced in berserk pain within cruel helmets.
As he watched in growing horror, a bolt thrower on the wall fired, sending an arrow the size of a man
towards one of the giants. The bolt struck the overlapping armour plates and shattered, the force of
the blow barely staggering the monstrosity. Indeed, it only seemed to spur the beast and it roared and
stumbled forwards, raising its arms to reveal that its hands had been cruelly amputated and replaced
with massive steel hook-blades that looked as if they could pull apart stone.
Another beast had a set of flails attached to its forearm stumps, each length of chain tipped by a
weighted iron sphere. It jerked its arms and the flails swung ponderously. The third had wide-bladed
pick-axes, each as large as an ore-cart, chained to its gauntleted hands and it clashed them together in
a discordant cacophony as it stomped forwards.
In addition to their weapons, each of the monsters wore a heavy harness of chains and ropes that
swung about their legs. As Felix watched, the boldest among the men who ran around the giants' feet
clambered up the ropes and chains with wild shouts. The walls trembled beneath Felix's feet with every
step the creatures took.
'Siege-giants,' Gotrek said, and spat. 'Prepare yourself, manling. They intend to tear this wall apart
and us with it.' Gotrek and Felix, Road of Skulls
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Generally armed with a club and strong enough to bash through stone walls. Their lack
of intelligence also limits their options. When facing a creature their size they have a tendency to
yell and brawl, hit with a club, or bite.
When facing a creature smaller they either stomp them (sometimes falling over) , bash them with a
club or pick them up. If picked up the giant then either hurls it back into combat (at its own unit like
a missile), puts it into a bag to eat later, eaten, smashed, squish, or put down the giant's trousers.
The former and the last can in theory be rescued if the giant is dispatched quick enough, though the
latter probably has mental scarring.

Siege giants can be armed with picks

the size of carts, hooked axes,
swinging flails/scaling hooks attached
to their bodies as well as their own
strength. These scaling hooks allow the
giants body, if killed, to be used as a
scaling platform.
The Siege giant specializes in attacking
creatures its size with oversized picks
and legbreakers, however can also
smash and eviscerate those beneath it.

The third giant drove its shoulder into

the wall further down, close to where
King Ironfist had made his stand. The
massive pick-axe in its hand slashed out,
not at the rock, but at the dwarfs who
stood on it. The armoured body of a
hammerer flew backwards from the wall. Ungrim roared out a dour chant as his axe flashed, chopping
through the haft of the giant's weapon, shattering it. The giant screamed in rage and its second pickaxe sank into the parapet with a crash. With a jerk of its deceptively gangly limb, it tore a section of
the wall away and flung it heedlessly behind it. A siege-tower exploded, caught in the wrong place at
the wrong time. Gotrek and Felix, Road of Skulls
Defensive: Being a incredibly large target it is highly durable to wounds. Also completely immune
to anything that tries to make it afraid, though it will still flee out of self-interest if the issue comes
up.
Siege Giants have armor near impervious to bullets or arrows, however at close quarters there are
apparently enough gaps that wounds on vitals can be inflicted (though few could brace such a
range!).
==Additional Factors==
Chaos Siege Giants can be given runes of hate by the Chaos Dwarves that make them more
frenzied and brutal in combat. However both sets of giants have many weaknesses, requiring
much food and alcohol when being attached to an army and often apt to fall over. Indeed the
Siege Giant is the worst, and tends to fall down whenever it attacks, runs, gets hit and sometimes
just moves. As Road of Skulls shows they dont care where they step or swing their weapons,
leading many that follow too closely to die. Though Giants are rare, Tamurkhan was still able to

muster over a hundred of them for his campaign. Any normal giant can be turned into a Siege giant
with time, the Chaos Dwarfs effort, and the Chaos commanders will.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 8-10
Max &Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

'Shaggoth!' cried one of Malekith's soldiers, and the

prince knew it to be true.
The oldest legends of the dragons spoke of such creatures,
but Malekith had considered them to be myths from before
the rise of the elves; before even the coming of the Old Ones
and the banishment of the elven gods. Cousins to the
dragons who had ruled the world before the coming of the
gods, the shaggoths had bartered their souls to Chaos long
before the Dark Gods had arisen to claim this world. If the
dragons were to be believed, they had warred with the
shaggoths for an eternity until finally the dragons had
triumphed and driven their foes into hiding.
With the coming of Chaos, Malekith guessed, the shaggoths
had been roused from their lairs, and now one of the titanic creatures stared down at Malekith with
death-filled eyes. Lightning arced down from the storm clouds above, striking the shaggoth full on the
chest. The creature was invigorated rather than harmed, as coruscating energy rippled across its
gnarled skin.- The Sundering: Maleketh

Dragon Ogre Shaggoths are the great leaders of their race who fast bargained with the Chaos Gods,
giving over the soul of their race in return for immortality. For an unknown reason the Chaos
Gods still hold true to that bargain, and in return Shaggoths continue to march to war under their
banner.
A Dragon Ogre Shaggoth is a truly massive construct. Its arms have been described as wide as tree
trunks, bodies the size of small hills or enough to tower over the forest canopy and hair so

thick that tiny frost sprites clamber around within. Like regular Dragon Ogres, they bathe in
lightning in order to keep their immortality up. It is fortunate for the Old World that these creatures
so rarely wake up, spending most of its time hibernating. The lesser dragon ogres are far more
active.
Yet unfortunately the arrival of Archaeon has sent a call to all Dragon Ogres that the time to fight
for Chaos is now. Shoggoths are waking up by unprecedented numbers, and though Shaggoths are
rare among an already rare race, their presence is immediately felt.
The monstrous dragon creature smashed into a regiment of Talabecland pikemen, their weapons
shattering against its thick hide. Swords bounced from its ancient flesh and in reply, its huge axe swept
out and a dozen men died. Another score fell with every stroke of its blade and its huge claws crushed
men beneath its weight with every step. Its roar cracked the earth and lightning flared around it,
incinerating friend and foe alike. There could be no standing against such a terrifying creature and the
men of the Empire turned and fled, their standard falling to be trampled by the vast beast.
Nearby regiments, already hard pressed by the Kurgan tribesmen, stepped backwards despite the
shouted demands of their sergeants. Seeing this horrifying god of war amongst them spurred the
Kurgans to insane heights of bravery and they hurled themselves at the men of the Urszebya pulk with
unremitting fury. Ursuns Teeth
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: According to lore, they carry axes of such size that a dozen strongmen could only just
lift one!! Such a weapon is more fit to carving holes into enemy lines. They might also use massive
swords or mauls. Needless to, by strength alone the Shaggoth is extremely tough.
Defensive: Some Shaggoths have some pieces of ancient armor strapped haphazardly to them,
however their main defense is their thick, metal like scale and the fact that as such a large creature
they can endure normal wounds more than their small brethren. Any electricity attack empowers
and heals them.
==Additional Factors==
Shaggoths are fiercely intelligent, and can be seen leading their brethren into battle. Like the
Dragon Ogres, they took carry a disdain of the lesser races yet will work with them when they
must. Finally they would rather avoid daemonic beings if they can, not willing to risk the remainder
of their souls, and will never enter a pact with one of them.

Mobility: 6

Training/Experience: 3-4
Max & Effective Range: 100 meters
Preferred Range: ????
The Multilath Vortex Beast is a terrifying monster of pure mutation; an abomination of nature if
there ever was one. The shape of the beast type is nearly indeterminable, but some commonalities
have emerged. Most often these creatures have are described with a large gaping maw full of
rows upon rows of teeth, along with numerous flailing tentacles.
However its greatest, most potent ability is anchored in its nature. Within this creature is a seething
ball of pure chaos energy that warps and twists the flesh around it. This energy can be directed
inward, to heal the Vortex Beasts of wounds. Yet most horrifically it can be directed outward, to
change all that it touches.
Heroes have been felled after being strangled and impaled by their own spines emerging from
their backs, while others have melted into nothing. Others have been transformed into a pile of
fish or giant crystal statues. Still the worst occurs when the vortex pulses, changing those it
touches into Chaos Spawn.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: For personal offense the Vortex Beast has numerous flailing tentacles and a maw that
can quickly grind bones and metal to nothing. Its most horrific ability is it Aura of Change,
which has a range of 100 meters. Fortunately just as Chaos itself is random so too is the effect of
this aura, which can include 6 applications, most of which tied to effecting a single unit (a couple
dozen men):
1. It can mutate enemies with terrible disfigurements, eliminating some while making others
terrible to behold.
2. An assault on the mind that kills some, and makes others extremely stupid
3. Gift of mutations which kills some, makes others weaker in a given area, and makes other
stronger in yet another given area (so a normal archer might actually become superhumanly
accurate or much slower)
4. Tide of Transformation: The most powerful aspect of this creature, it creates a tide of random
transformations that keep spreading backwards. Those that dont resist completely die from
turning into a crystal statue or something. This tide only ends when there is nothing within 20
meters of the last victim, it peppers out randomly, or enough individuals resist it simultaneously.
5. Maelstrom of Change: Creates a small maelstrom, about 3m diameter, that can then extend
outward up to 20 meters (with a small chance of failure). All within must struggle to resist one
means or else get eradicated by chaotic change.

6. Spawnchange: All those that fail to resist get turned into a Chaos spawn, meaning dozens of
Chaos Spawn might suddenly get formed at once!
Defensive: Though a large target, it is rather durable to wounds and has scaly skin as powerful as
plate. To make matters worse the skin of the multilath is forever being
Healed and remoulded, sucked in and poured back out by the vortex. Essentially it will usually take
lot of very strong blows at once to destroy this creature.

===Additional Factors===
Fortunately for enemies these creatures are very rare and need to be magically bound first to be
brought into battle.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 7

Max & Effective Range: Melee

Preferred Range: Melee
The Slaughterbrute is a terrible creation, a beast of pure aggression and violence. So aggressive in
fact that it cannot normally be controlled and must be bound. Those few Chaos Champions
daring enough bind it through long rituals and sacrifice, finally gaining control of this creature.
While some prefer to keep the Slaughterbeast on a tightrope, using it like a marionette, most who
catch such a beast control it through force of will . In that case the Slaughterbrute fights with the
skill of a warrior born rather than a massive beast.
So powerful is this creature that every sweep of the arm can knock down a half-dozen men,
every bite ripping someone else in half. Yet unlike other beasts in this section it does not simply
tanks blows, but rather feints and parries them. Still perhaps the most intimidating aspect of
this creature is the fact that when it kills dark laughter can be heard emanating from it, laughter
that its bestial jaws cannot normally make.
The abomination thundered through the vaulted throne room, mindlessly crushing, smashing and
killing anything in its path. Daemonettes became twisted mounds of spiked scrap through which the
ichor leaked into the stinking waters of the palace. Monsters who, like the slaughterbrute, had suffered
in Agrammons royal menagerie, became showers of gore and ragged limbs that rained in the
abominations bloody wake.
Distracted by Archaon, the daemon lord was no longer protected by its flesh-shearing maelstrom. As
soon as the abomination saw the daemon, it thundered towards it, stamping a fleeing long-snout into
the shallows and beating a winged nightmare out of its path and into the spiked wall with boneshattering force. Perhaps it was Agrammons size or a daemonic threat the serpentine thing so
obviously posed. Perhaps the abomination remembered and knew its captor when it saw it. As the
abominate monster charged, Agrammons coils tightened about the slaughterbrute, bleeding a
powerful mixture of potions and poisons from it into the monsters flesh. Agrammon brought up a
colossal claw to back slice the creature to ribbons, but Archaon knew that such defences would not be
enough. Clambering over the clamminess of sickly-sweet flesh, Archaon almost became trapped in the
moving coils of the creature.
Flashing a glance at the oncoming slaughterbrute, Archaon brought his sickle sword down on the tail.
Again. Again. The swords serrated edge sheared flesh from the thrashing horror but wasnt heavy
enough to cleave through bone. He roared, cutting at the daemon. Finally, the bone shattered under
the frenzied onslaught, caught between one of the swords many barbs and the stone of the throne
dais. Seconds later the thick coils slithering tighter about them suddenly unravelled. The bloody stump
that Archaon had left was whipped away, trailing black gore. As the slaughterbrute and the daemon
Agrammon collided, Archaon grabbed Giselle and ran for the wall.
The abominate beast knocked Agrammon from its throne. As the daemons snake-like body wrapped
itself around the monstrous force of the slaughterbrute, the pair of them smashed through the
chamber. The creature alternated between the unrelenting force of its fist and the gouging slash of its
thick claws. It savaged Agrammon with its dagger-toothed maw and gored it with its monstrous horns.

Purple lightning enveloped them both, streaming from the spindly claws of the daemon, setting the
slaughterbrute alight.-Archaon: Lord of Chaos. Example of uncontrolled Slaughterbrute
The Greatest weakness of this creature is the fact that if its puppeteer is killed it reverts to its
beastial stake. In this case it attacks everything around it indiscriminately, servant of Chaos or not,
until it is either slain or kills everything around it.
===Loadout===
Offensive: A slaughterbrute is strong enough to rip off limbs of a giant, so one can imagine what it
would to a human. It has multiple claws on it, powerful limbs, and a jaw that can easily bite a man in
half.
Defensive: When a Chaos Lord possesses it this creature is capable of feinting and parrying and
dodging. If not its still a tough, durable target with scale as hard as plate armor.
===Additional Factors===
Fortunately for enemies these creatures are very rare, as they have to be controlled by a Chaos
Champion, which themselves are rare and many do not care to try and bind such a creature. Some
that makes the attempt end up failing and dying horribly.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 7
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
In legends it is said that long ago there was a
shamanistic tribe known as the Khazags who were so
insular and isolated that, for many millennia, they
avoided the sight of the Dark Gods. Yet alas such a
thing could not be done forever, and eventually these
gods shifted their sight towards this wayward group,
perplexed that they existed outside their influence.
Sensing that they could add a new, if minor, player
towards their game they set about corrupting this
clan, using the greed and rage of the chieftains son to
lead the tribe to corruption. As a final coup de grace
these Chaos corrupted men forcibly bound and
corrupted the great mammoth god, Ankor, that had
been previously been the subject of the tribes
worship.

With the power of the Mammoth God aiding them, the Khazrags quickly subjugated more
mammoths and dedicated themselves solely to eternal war. This once simple hunting tribe rose to
dominate their area of the steppes for millennia, smashing aside other Kurgan tribes and launching
devastating raids against the Southlands.
Mammoths in Warhammer Fantasy are much larger than real world mammoths, being capable of
knocking down entire forests in their march (tree by tree) and smashing through small
stone walls. Indeed in the Great War of Chaos they were the ones who smashed through the gates
of Praag, resulting in a horrific massacre of the city. They arent as big as LOTR Oliphants but they
are still 3-4 times a real world Elephants height (around 30 feet high, according to the novel Blood
for the Blood God), able to carry a whopping 20 men on their back!
Not all of the Chaos tribes have succeeded in training the mammoths but those who have tend to
dominate the plains as the massive beasts smash aside those that come to fight them in melee.
Meanwhile from a battle box on their box gleeful marauders rain down projectiles on their foes, or
else conduct vile sacrifices from an on-board Chaos War Shrine.

With a shout, Maloric ordered the knights of Bastonne forwards, spearing towards the heart of the
melee. More Norse were appearing out of the snowstorm, and Calard knew that they were completely
surrounded. And still worse was to befall the Bretonnians, for the Norscan chieftain had one final
surprise.
The ground began to shudder and reverberate as if shook by an earthquake and monstrous
trumpeting lifted above the roar of the wind, the same sounds that Calard had heard before battle had
commenced. It was akin to the blare of massive horns, but Calard could not begin to fathom the size of
the instruments needed to create such a din.
He didn't have to wait long to discover what it was that made the sounds, and what he saw made his
blood run cold.
From out of the blizzard's whitewash came three massive shapes, pounding forwards through the
snow and ice, the ground reverberating with every titanic footfall of the monsters.
They were giant, shaggy-hided beasts, each as tall as a castle wall. They had huge trunks of muscle
extending from their wide heads, and one of them raised this prehensile limb to the heavens and again
the terrifying trumpeting sound echoed across the battlefield. The immense beasts were quadrupeds,
with large flapping, dark furred ears and beady eyes filled with burning rage, and each had four
immense tusks that curved down to the ground.
Atop the backs of these monsters were strapped immense howdahs of timber, their sides draped with
furs and leathers and dotted with shields, and within these structures were dozens of warriors.
The Norscans battling the Bretonnians hurled themselves aside, though many of them were too slow or
too far lost in their own battle frenzy. The beasts thundered forwards, smashing into Norscan and
knight alike with titanic force, sending men and horses flying through the air with each great sweep of
their heads. Tusks skewered destriers and riders alike, blood spraying in all directions, and massive
trunks wrapped themselves around men, crushing ribs and limbs before hurling them into the blizzard,
arms and legs flailing. Still others were crushed into nothingness, trampled beneath immense
stamping hooves that flattened them completely - armour, bone and all.
Hundreds of knights were slaughtered as the trio of behemoths smashed through the knights with the
elemental force of a thunderbolt, and many more were killed by the javelins and axes hurled by the
Norscans riding within the howdah towers. Lances and swords dug into the legs of the shaggy-furred
beasts but it was like striking rock, and weapons were jarred from numbed hands. These attacks were
little more than pinpricks to the mighty beasts, who seemed not to feel any pain.
The army of Lyonesse, already struggling to survive being engaged on three sides by the brutal
Norscan warriors was utterly shattered by the appearance of these three monstrous beasts. Merely the
stink of them, thick and unpleasant, was enough to drive horses mad with terror, and panic spread
across the entire battle line. The heart of the Bretonnian army was smashed apart, the immense
mammoths thundering through the ranks of knights with impunity, killing everything that came near
them. Hundreds of noble knights of Bretonnia were left as unrecognisable smears of blood trampled
into the ground, and countless more were killed as they were smashed through the air by swinging

tusks, or hacked apart by the bloodthirsty warriors who descended on the panicked knights in a fury,
axes smashing men from saddles and cleaving the legs from beneath proud destriers driven mad with
fear. -Knight of the Realm
===Loadout===

Offensive: A mammoth is a truly gigantic

creature, and for the most part its beyond the
control of the owner when in combat. After
charging in it will squash, trample, stomp, eat,
crush (with trunk) and pick up and hurl enemies
at other enemies at random. If its fighting a
massive creature it will mostly rely on goring
them with tusks or butting them with its head.
Those mammoths carrying massive battle
platforms may have up to 20 marauders in
them, who attack with throwing axes, javelins
and potentially bows. Rarely, a Chaos Sorceror
or Lord may take up residence in these platforms
and attack from there.
Defensive: Chaos War Mammoths are very
durable, requiring great numbers of minor wounds to even slow them down. Many are
equipped in steel for added protection. Weak spots are generally going to be their large eyes,
underbelly and trunk
===Additional Factors===
A War mammoth, if carrying a shrine, may attack faster (Khorne), have some plague
flies/minor magical defense from Tzeentch, or be nearly completely fearless in battle. Having
a Chaos Shrine on its back confers all the advantages that a regular Chaos Shrine would achieve.
However these creatures suffer from a critical weakness; if greatly injured mammoths panic and
run amok, inflicting tremendous causalities on anything in their path (including men of Chaos)
indiscriminately.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 6
Max & Effective
Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee

"Stamp and trample! Gore

and Crush!" -pg 35,
Beastman codex
Doombulls are the strongest
and most ferocious of the
Minotaur clans, clad in plate
armor to make them an even
more terrifying foe to face.
They are also the leaders of
these tribes, though it is
not because of intelligence
or charisma. Rather in
typically blunt beastman
fashion it is due to their
greater size and the ability
to instill fierce bloodlust in
those that surround it.
When the Chaos moon is
high in the sky or Doombulls
feel particularly
bloodthirsty they will roar a
bellowing call that attracts all those miles around, soon accumulating hundreds of Minotaurs and
even regular Beastmen eager for blood.
When Doombulls attack they charge with the force and fury of a freight train, bursting through
buildings, lines and all but the toughest fortifications. Once inside the slaughter begins, as
minotaurs have been known to lay waste to entire villages, even minor cities. At times there is so
much death and carnage that not even the Minotaurs can consume it all! If they are part of an army
the doombull will naturally single enemy leaders out and focus their charge on them, cleaving
through those in the path.

The
relationship
between
Doombulls
and other
Beastmen
leaders is
usually very
simplistic. A
bray-shaman,
or extremely
respected
beastlord, just
points at a
certain
section of the
enemy lines
and tells the
Doombull to
charge there.
Some of the
more cunning Bray-Shamans might even attempt to take control of the Doombull as he would
another large beast, however if the Doombull finds out about this the resulting rage will be so great
that he will overcome his phobia of the "bad luck" that comes from slaying Bray-Shamans.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Large Horns and a number of hand weapons form the Doombull's arsenal. He is also
physically strong enough to rip people in half, burst through barricades/static lines, and tear
enemies limb from limb with his teeth. Sometimes he may carry a Greatsword, massive axe,
mace or a magic weapon (see Beastlord profile). Mutations like better armor-skin, additional limbs
or gouge-tusks would all be exceptionally potent for the Doombull.
Defensive: The Doombull possesses incredible innate durability and may wear leather or plate
armor . May be equipped with a shield. May take the magic items and trinkets the beastlord can
equip
==Additional Factors==
The Doombull's greatest trait, even more so then its ability to bust through enemy lines, is the
passive field of Bloodlust it creates. Any units that accompany it are driven to greater acts of
frenzied violence, becoming more fearless and ferocious. Like Minotaurs they have a tendency
to consume some foes right in the middle of battle, ignoring everything else momentarily.

Then Einarr had no more time for thoughts of berserkers and beasts. The ground shuddered beneath
him as something monstrous forced its way across the plaza. Even the clouds of flies seemed to part
before it. It towered above the Hung, even the tallest of the tribesmen failing to rise to its breast. Its
bloated body was coated in scabs and lesions, its bestial head little more than a fleshless skull. Mangy
patches of fur dripped off its body and from the sides of its head great horns, cracked and filthy, jutted
menacingly. In its massive paws, the beast carried an enormous hammer, the stone-head caked in
slime and sludge. The minotaur fixed Einarr with its beady gaze, the lone eye staring out from its left
socket looking like a tiny ball of pus. The plaguebull snorted, smashing its hoof against the ground, and
charged.
Einarr leapt aside as the plaguebull brought its mattock hurtling downward, pulverizing the ground
and sending shards of earth and stone flying in all directions. The minotaur did not hesitate to even
consider its missed strike but with astounding speed swept the hammer up from the crater it had
smashed into the ground, trying to catch Einarr with the side of the weapon. The Norscan threw
himself flat, ducking under the blow. The hammer crashed against the sacrificial stake, smashing it
into splinters. Einarr lashed out at the beast, his sword slashing deep into its side. Putrid water slopped
from the wound in the brutes belly, but if the plaguebull felt pain, it gave no sign. Instead it swung
around, bringing the hammer about in a deadly arc of ruin. A pair of Hung were crushed as Einarr
dove away from the strike, thrown through the air by the impact of the great hammer. Plaguebull
from Palace of the Plague Lord

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 3-4
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Unlike mortal servants of Chaos, the
Chaos Dwarves dont attempt deals with
greater daemons or the Dark Gods. The
only being they bow their knee to is
Hashtut. Instead of deals or worse
obedience to these fickle entities the
Chaos Dwarves pursue another option;
slavery.

The Kdaai is one result of such attempts

to enslave a daemon. Originally conceived
as a war weapon the Chaos Dwarves
succeeded all too well with the Kdaai .
These creatures are an unholy
emergence of elementals that was
birthed from the deep earth and the
boiling blood of slave sacrifices. They
are elemental beings of destruction, mindless to the point where sorcerers are the only ones to
wield even tentative control over the entity. Even then these non-sentient monsters still kill what
is in their path, enemy or ally.

They are so self-destructive that they will quickly burn out on the battlefield. For that reason they
are put in hibernation mode and laid on stone until the most important battles . As they are
exceedingly difficult and costly to make, this further limits their number.

There appears to be multiple types of Kdaai. The Smaller

version, the Kdaai fireborn, serve as shock troops, sent
to clash into enemy lines and break them. As they are
very durable and their bodies emanate fire, this isnt too
hard to do. The second main version, the Destroyer, is a
towering colossus that can crush battlelines beneath them.
The Kdaai is the rarest of the rare, and a terror to those
who must face them.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: As their bodies are on fire, and Hashtuts
unholy fire at that, both the destroyer and fireborn mainly
utilize that as their weapon along with burning claws
and a mace that can also be covered in fire. The
Destroyer can be so large that it can crush troops under it,
and a very select few are large enough to crush monsters!
Some Chaos Dawi engineer might have it be covered in
gore blades or give it razor horns. Those with wings
have the ability to breathe fire.
Defensive: Both variants are exceptionally durable and
near immune to fire attacks. However they are incredibly short lived and burn so fast they may
end up literally burning themselves out. As part daemons, they do have a weakness to the Light
that their kind all shares. The Destroyer is a massive target, easier to hit but innately more durable
too.
==Additional Factors==
A few Destroyers can fly, allowing them to engage airborne threats.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 5-6
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
Just as the Beastmen were warped together men and
beasts to create their present form, so too is the
Chimera a blasphemous mixing of multiple
creatures. For thousands of years these creatures
were almost never seen, a rarity among the Chaos
Wastes. Some speculate this is because they are
creatures that roam the ethereal realm of chaos, or
are beings sent as emissaries to Chaos themselves.
Whatever the reason, it often took lifetimes for men
to find them, and even those that do may not always survive the encounter. Only in the End Times,
with the power of Chaos rising above all others, have these creatures emerged in uncommon
numbers.
This is a massive creature, described as looming over elven cavalry in Dragonmage.
Warriors of Caledor! he cried, bracing to meet the challenge. Fear no darkness! Remember your
oaths!
The knights responded first. They kicked their rebellious steeds up the slope, raising their shields and
holding their swords point-forward. The ragged line of cavalry surged forward, picking up momentum
just as the chimera dropped out of the air and crashed down among them.
Rathien rode with them, gritting his teeth, driving his terrified horse into close range and aiming his
sword for the monsters shaggy neck. A shadow passed across him as the wings thrust down again,
wafting a cloud of nauseating filth over him, but he held his course, straight into the maw of the
approaching creature of Chaos.
In front of him, a rider was smashed aside by a heavy swipe from the creatures barbed foreleg.
Another was lashed from the saddle by the snaking tail. One of the three heads swung round, and huge
jaws clamped over the helmet of a third rider, muffling his screams as the teeth tore through the plate
and into the flesh beneath.
Asuryan! roared Rathien, angling the blade to strike just below the chimeras central head.
He never even saw the claw come round. It whipped across from the left, fast as a crossbow bolt,
catching him full on the left shoulder.

Rathien was thrown from the saddle. He flew several feet through the air before cracking heavily into
a wall of rock. His head snapped back against it, and his sword dropped from his hands.
For a moment, everything was lost in a whirl of disorientation. Through blurred vision, he saw the
chimera stamp down on his stricken horse, crushing the beasts ribcage with almost unconscious
disdain before wheeling round to take on the press of warriors rushing into the assault.
It prowled on four legs like a colossal panther, though it was capable of rearing up and slashing out
viciously with its forelegs. When it did this, the mighty wings flared above it, fanning the stink of death
and causing the soldiers to gag and choke. The chimera shook off every attempt to land a blow,
crushing any move to get close enough in to bring blades to bear. A few arrows bounced from its ironhard hide, launched from further down the trail by rows of kneeling archers. The missiles did no
damage at all, and with every kick or lash of its massive limbs another one of Rathiens troops died.
Rathien staggered back to his feet, shaking his head to clear it, watching the butchery unfold with
growing horror. He saw the monster pull apart a rider with a shake of one set of jaws even while its
foreclaws ripped open the chest of another. Its third head attacked, jawline splayed wide, and a
column of white-hot flame jetted out, engulfing the front rank of footsoldiers. The victims fell back
screaming, tearing at their eyes and rolling on the ground to try to douse the agonising flames that
ran over them like burning oil.
Despite it all, the Caledorians kept on coming. The knights, most of whom had been thrown from
their horses, charged at the beast on foot, trying to find some way to stab at its flanks with their
longswords. The footsoldiers did likewise, though their light armour made them easy pickings. Even
some of the archers closed in, edging up the track and trying to give their arrows a better chance of
punching through the beasts thick hide.
It would make no difference. As clearly as blood on snow, Rathien saw that the attacks were doomed.
The chimera was dragging them down in droves. Already, the ground beneath its feet was slick with
gore and the monsters heavy claws trampled the bodies of the slain into the gravel of the track.
They were all going to die.- Dragonmage. This beast was eventually killed by a massive amount of
fire levelled against it.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: A chimera is a beast with 2 claws, three jaws, a terrible tail, and its melee attacks
poisoned. One of the heads, the one that resembles a dragon, can breathe fire on the enemy. All
jaws have rending fangs and terrible whip-tongues to grab the enemy from afar. Finally its tail can
resemble either a whip lash, or have a mouth of its own to eat people with.
Defense: Little other than it can fly and its skin is supposedly as hard as iron. Some variants
have low-grade regeneration.

Mobility: 8 (Toad Dragon: 6)

Training/Experience: 7
Max Range: Several dozen yards
Preferred Range: Ranged
Long ago when Chaos first emerged on the planet the dragons were among the many races that
stepped forward to oppose them. Most were cut down, however a few were given far more
hideous fates, courtesy of Tzeentch. He would either have his forces possess the dragons with
daemons, thus waging war over the body, or mutate them until they became insane.
The Chaos Dragon is wicked and fickle, every bit as malevolent as their Tzeentchi benefactors. Yet
as typical of the ways of Tzeentch, neither is exactly the same, and possesses various different
mutations like translucent organs or mouths coming out of various parts of the body. There is a
distinction between regular Chaos Dragons and Emperor Class sized- the latter is bigger and far
rarer. Galgruach was 30 feet tall while Skyranjar- the chaos dragon Gotrek and Felix fought- was
almost 100 feet! Regular chaos
dragons would still be far taller
than a man.
TOAD DRAGON
Toad Dragons are not strictly
Chaos creatures, but have been
seen utilized in Nurglite armies.
Unlike other dragons these are
wingless and thus unable to
fly, and are almost mindless,
in contrast to the full
sentience of the Chaos
Dragon. However they are
extremely durable in the
manner of the Nurglites it is
seen serving.
Archaon turned the Eye on the
monstrosity they had cornered. A
primeval horror of scale and
warty skin gnarled enough to
turn aside a blade it was some
aberration of the Wastes: a toadlike dragon. Its webbed feet
splashed about in the shallows of
the meltwater stream, and it
unleashed thunderous croaks from its huge rubbery maw as Agrammons bestial trappers thrust their
tridents at it and slashed their whips of sinew in the shallows. As one of the long-snouts splashed

through the black waters at the toad dragon, forcing it back, the creature ballooned its bulbous throat
and reared up. Opening its great maw the thing regurgitated its last meal upon the beastfiend. The
vomit was a deluge of bloody bile and steaming bones. The trapper trumpeted a ghastly shriek from its
long snout as the acidic contents of the toad dragons stomach drenched it. As flesh began to dribble
from its bones, the Slaaneshi trapper stumbled towards its compatriot beasts but the long-snouts
backed away. Within moments the beastfiend had become a steaming mound of melted flesh, hissing
and dissolving on the shoreline of the stream. The toad dragon hopped forward, croaking its
monstrous desire to be left alone. The Slaaneshi beastfiends trumpeted their own fears as they skipped
back through the waters on the tips of their hooves.
()
The toad dragon would not submit, however. As it thunder-croaked its amphibious fury, the thing
exuded a slimy pus from its warty skin that allowed it to squirm and slide out from under the weighted
net. As it bounded forward, the monsters grapnel-like tongue shot out from its gaping maw. The sharp
tongue speared its way through the back of a fleeing beastfiend and out through its chest. There the
fleshy grapnel opened and the tongue retracted like a whip, dragging the unfortunate creature back
into the rubbery mouth. A second and third half-breed died similarly, trumpeting their horror from
their tapering snouts as they were dragged to an acidic doom.-Toad Dragon. Archaon: Lord of Chaos

WARPFIRE DRAGON
The fell beasts named by scholars as Warpfire
Dragons are hateful and ruinous creatures, albeit
thankfully a rare sight in the Old World. Their long,
charred-black bodies constantly twitch and shudder
as if tormented by unseen blades, and clusters of
strange crystals mar their scaled hides. The very air
about them throbs with tainted power, and their
breath is like no other dragons; a coruscating blast of
scintillating red-black lightning that can scorch even
ethereal spirits and other creatures of magic.
The destructive power and twisted form of a
Warpfire Dragon is fueled and maintained by
devouring pure warpstone. Only the mighty
constitution of a dragon could withstand the effects of
so much concentrated power without it being torn to
pieces, although the violent death of such a creature
often leads to a spectacular and explosive end. The
scarcity of warpstone often brings a Warpfire Dragon into conflict with the Skaven, and it is with
the promise of this immensely powerful material that the most arrogant (or insane) of wizards will

seek to strike a bargain with the creature; although it is said that even the legendary Binding Scrolls
of Kadon are not enough to fully control such a malign and wicked beast.

In battle Warpfire dragons have an aura so chaotic and destructive that those in its immediate
contact must struggle to resist the changing pull of Chaos.
===LOADOUT===
Offensive: Chaos Dragons have two different form of breathe attacks. The first head emits
corrosive gas while the second exhales the dark flame of Chaos. Then of course it also has teeth and
claws. The most powerful might breathe the pure stuff of change itself.
Their mirth was lost in the purple firestorm that enveloped the stone stairwell as the dragon slipped
its long neck and open, elongated jaws down through the cruel druchii architecture and blasted them
to fiery oblivion. Some monstrous, primordial urge to serve its Dark Master drove it on. It wanted
forms to change and the souls that fled such abomination. It wanted Archaon. The blazing light of his
significance drove the monster mad, flashing briefly
and temptingly before becoming lost once more in
the miasma of dark souls that lit up the floating
fortress.
After the heat washed away and Archaon heard
Flamefang slither monstrously away to create
havoc towards the stern, Archaon turned to see
what remained of the beastmen. Instead of a huddle
of cremated beastmen, the Chaos warrior found
that the dragons breath had actually turned the
brutes into small, fleshy mounds that were erupting
in change. Like anemones turning themselves inside
out, the creatures had been transformed into
blossoming spawn by the form-altering power of
the Tzeentchian monsters fire. Instead of a fiery
death, Flamefang visited upon its victims the
blessings of its infernal master Lord Tzeentch.
Archaon: Everchosen
The Toad Dragons breathe is utterly toxic and
capable of melting flesh off bones and filling
lungs with pus. It also uses its poisonous
froglike tongue and claws.

Warpfire Dragons shoot out pure magic and some of them are powerful wizards (level 4) wizards
in their own right. When they are killed they emit a destructive burst of energy that can be felt up
to fifty meters out.
Defensive: Both are very durable and covered in thick, plate like scales. Both are monstrously large
(though Toad Dragon is larger) to require sustained artillery fire or magic to reliably kill.
Warpfire dragons have destructive auras around them that makes it so the enemy must struggle to
resist forcible mutation.

===ADDITIONAL FACTORS===
The Chaos Dragon can fly, the
Toad Dragon cannot. Both variants
can be considered incredibly rare ,
with the highest number of Chaos
Dragons yet seen on one
battlefield being three. With the
End Times, this may change.
The observers had one and all
heard the legends of noble knights
riding forth to slay marauding
drakes, rescuing fair damsels and
golden treasures from the caves of
such scaly monsters. Such stories
were common in the lore and
legend of Bretonnia, and well
known to even the poorest of its
peasants. But none had ever seen
the creatures spoken of in these
tales, perhaps taking comfort in
believing such beasts to be a part of
the history of their land rather than
something that might return in
their own time. As terror overcame
the awe that had gripped the
hearts of the soldiers, the men-atarms scrambled over one another
in their haste to be quit of the
battlements, to abandon the
fortress to the legendary horror

that had fallen upon it from the grim night sky.

Malok paid the fleeing soldiers little notice, intent upon pulverising the stone structure beneath him.
The dragons impact had shaken the very foundations of the keep, though the tough body of the wyrm
had felt little of his violent collision with the unyielding fortification. Now he brought his heavy clawed
legs smashing again and again into the cracked rubble that roofed the structure, causing the already
weakened stonework to shudder and groan. Malok could feel the castle shifting beneath him as rooms
and corridors collapsed below, shifting tons of stone to crush the little vermin within.
The dragon reared his head back, roaring into the night, a sound like the scream of hot steel thrust
into icy snow magnified to such a degree that the eardrums of the human witnesses threatened to
burst under such duress. Gouts of flame, like the expulsions of a blast furnace, flashed from Maloks
jaws, staining the night sky a hellish hue. The dragon maintained his violent, boastful display of wrath
and retribution for a lingering moment, letting his display of power build until he could feel the fiery
heat swelling within him. Then the dragon turned his head downward, expelling a long stream of
golden flame into the structure beneath his feet.
Wooden support beams exploded as the dragonfire consumed them, turning oak and pine into ash and
steam. The already weakened pile caved in beneath the reptile as the supports were destroyed. Three
floors of castle crumpled, crushing downward, pushing outward against the walls. Malok beat his
wings, lifting himself free as the castle disintegrated into a pile of rock and debris, smoke and dust
billowing about him as the mighty wings caused the air to swirl and writhe.
The hovering dragon glared down at his handiwork, reptilian eyes narrowing into dagger-like slits as
he contemplated the destruction. Deciding it was not enough, Malok drew in another breath, expelling
a second stream of flame into the rubble, sending tons of stone exploding into the air as the fiery
column struck.
The dragon snarled down at the rubble, a deep and satisfied hiss, then wheeled away, now intent on
attending to all the tiny little men who had been running away from the curtain wall and guard
towers. After all, any one of them might be the vermin who had driven the dragon to come here. And
that was a summons Malok was not going to let pass unanswered.- Brunner the Bounty Hunter

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: Variable
Max Range: 1 kilometer
Effective Range : 480 meters
Preferred Range: Melee
In the shadow of the besieged Marcher
Fortress, I saw the BloodGod's host in all its
terrible glory. Yet it was the cannons upon
the ridgeline that captured my attention.
Lined wheel to wheel, they belched fire and
gore at the lithe Daemons who sallied in the
fortress' defense. I was certain no host,
immortal or otherwise, could long endure
such a fusillade. Moment later, I was proved
correct as the defenders withdrew, leaving
the charred remains of their fellows to the
enemys scant mercies. - Daemon Codex 8e,
pg 32
The Skull Cannon is rare and legendary
type of chariot-canon that was supposedly forged by Khornes own hands on his mighty anvil.
These daemon-cannons, unholy mix between machine and thee aethyr, are fully sentient and are
as full of bloodlust as any minion of Khorne. So willful and violent is it that these things are
extremely difficult to control even by someone used to controlling a Juggernaut. The two
Bloodletters that accompany it mostly just hoot and holler and jeer, for they have no ability to
control that which they ride.
In battle the Skull Cannon charges uncontrollably toward enemy lines, eager for blood. As it moves
it fires giant brazen skulls that slam into enemy lines with the force of a cannonball,
occasionally splintering apart in a shower of shrapnel. Not once does the cannon stop for unlike
other cannons it does not want nor will it ever allow itself to be tied up in the rear. This
creature desires the front-lines and the carnage that follows.
When it finally reaches the enemy it crashes into his lines with several tons of unknown metal and
rollers. Those that arent crushed underneath are hacked by the Bloodltters riding on top or else
eaten by the great maw of the beast. It will then gruesomely eject all but the skulls from its rear end.
These skulls are then filled with the sheer hatred and bloodlust reminiscent of Khorne.

==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Skull Cannons fire giant flaming brazen skulls that for the most part break into
fragments upon impact. Should the skull survive, it will hurl insults at those in its immediate
vicinity until its crushed. However those that crush it are said to be cursed with nightmares
for the rest of time.
In close quarters the cannon uses its maw, weight, and scythes attached to its wheels to attack. The
two Bloodletters riding on top utilize hellblades.
Defense: Being made mostly of brass it is a rather durable machine, capable of sustaining many
wounds before dying.
==Additional Factors==
This machine is rare among Khornes armies, partially because Khorne apparently needs to get
personally involved to build them.

Mobility: 7
Training/Experience: Variable
Max & Effective Range: 300m
Preferred Range: Melee
When a Daemons physical body is slain, he can surrender his true name to the Forge of Souls. The
dark bargain thus sealed, the Daemons crippled essence is bound to a mighty Warpmetal hulk.

Thus is he reborn as a Soul Grinder.This is considered a rather desperate bargain made by only
desperate daemons, for though the Soul Grinder grants him great power he is beholden to pay the
debt back through souls. Should he fail, and most do, he will lose his identity and be eternally
damned- the same fate he would inflict upon mortals.
No two Soul Grinders are exactly the same, but all are bizarre to look upon. The transformation has
a tendency to mimic the Daemons inner desires and then distort them just enough so that even it
finds the results loathsome. Yet the change also grants might be far beyond that which a Daemon
normally enjoys.
A Soul Grinders clanking tread shakes the ground with every step, and it is devilishly fast for a
creature its size, able to scuttle swift as a horses gallop, or even faster should the scent of
battle touch its nostrils. Piston-driven legs thud home with sickening force, crushing to bloody
paste those beneath. Formidable though a Soul Grinders brute strength is, he does not need to rely
on it alone to slaughter his foes, for the transformation grants weapons to match the newfound
stature. These can range from cannons to mini flamethrowers and more.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: A Soul Grinder will usually have a massive sword and a terrible iron claw which is used
to clamp down on enemies to hold them in place or crush them. However it might also have one of
the following:
--Harvester Cannon: Essentially this fires grapeshot at close quarters, functioning somewhat like a
large shotgun.
--Baleful Torrent: Essentially a giant flamethrower arm.
--Daemonclaw Upgrade: Makes his iron claw so powerful it could rip limbs off giants with ease.
--Phlegm Bombardment: Essentially this functions like a catapult, only with presumably
infectious phlegm!
A gigantic claw slammed into the Counts back, its piston-driven strength flinging the vampire across
the square. Flagstones cracked under giant metal legs as Stemcutter stormed sideways through the
fray, pincers snipping wildly. A knot of injured spearmen charged towards it, cries to Sigmars glory on
their lips, but Stemcutter hoiked a great ball of phlegm and spat it right at them. The repulsive fluids
splashed across the state troops, quickly dissolving their flesh until all that was left was a noisome pile
of sludge and discoloured cloth.-Glottkin
--Warp Gaze: With its eyes it collects energy into a eyebeam and spears a target with dark energy.
Should any of these attacks mess up, as occasionally happens, the Soul Grinder takes the hit as it
explodes in his face.
Defense: Its a massive target clad in plate-equivalent armor. Very durable to harm, and normally
artillery weapons would be required to kill it.

Subject to Marks of Chaos.

With their obsession of control and destruction, the Chaos Dwarves are known for some extremely
exotic and potent artillery. From rockets to a giant colossus, the Chaos Dwarves are always
looking to expand their unholy technology.
In order to better transport these weapons, they have developed a means in which they can be
carried on steam carriages pulled by the Iron Daemon (see below) allowing for faster
movement. Though bad terrain will hurt this transports capabilities, it allows Chaos Dwarf
Artillery to keep up with the main army without the C. Dawi physically having to lug it around.
Chaos Dwarves are exceedingly good and creative at repairing craft, and machinery disabled for
one battle can easily be repaired by the next unless totally devastated or captured.

Priests robed in scale coats and wearing daemon-faced iron masks walked amongst the engines,
chanting liturgies to the dark god, Hashut. They sprinkled blood onto the swelling barrels of the
cannons and dropped burning entrails into their muzzles. With fingers coated in crimson, they
scrawled wicked runes onto the rocket batteries and consecrated massive earthshaker shells to their
master.

As the rituals were completed, the daemon engines began to wake. Where once there had been
inert metal, now unnatural flesh began to writhe and turn, sprouting faces and fangs, claws and
tendrils. Bound within the rune-scratched iron of their machines, the daemons possessing the
engines began to buck and pull at their chains, and unholy screeches and roars filled the air. Crew
dwarfs with smouldering brands prodded their charges into position, while burning skulls were
laden into their furnace hearts, the heat shimmer boiling up the valley, melting the snow beneath the
engines.
Blood poured forth from horrid maws, while oil dripped from cogs and windlasses. Flaming
hammers scalded runes of wrath onto the bound creatures, infuriating them further, while rockets
were loaded onto the launch racks and shells fed into the toothy muzzles of the squat earthshakers.Grudgebeearer

Although a touch of the dark powers of Chaos enters into all the works of the Chaos Dwarfs, some
war machines have hellish, devouring entities and daemons of fury and destruction bound to
their every frame and bolt, creating a truly possessed machine even more blood-thirsty than its
creators and difficult to destroy. The most extreme examples of these are devices such as the
infamous Hellcannon, fueled by flesh and souls and spewing destructive blasts of arcane
energy, they are unique entities whose treacherous power can prove almost as dangerous to
their masters as the enemy. There are other lesser, infernal devices and examples of daemonic
power augmenting more conventional war machine designs and engines.
In short this makes the Chaos Dwarf vehicles really powerful, with all their attacks being magical,
but even more difficult to handle than normal. They also have some truly catastrophic scenarios
that occur in the event that they misfire, which usually results in the death of its handlers and
sometimes all units nearby. This can be particularly problematic, as Chaos Dwarf artillery is so
costly as to be nearly impossible to practically replace, and in the novel Knight of the Realm it is
described how one (larger than normal) hellcannon took 50 years and the sacrifice of
thousands of slaves to build, followed by 50 days of extremely dangerous rituals to properly
bind a daemon to .
All WF artillery is rare, but the Chaos Dwarf artillery especially so, and heavily priced for that
reason. The majority of them cannot attack aircraft, and those that can are often inaccurate.
Finally they are noted as firing at a rather slow rate, as in the Tamurkhan campaign the Imperials
could get off many more shots before they finished reloading.

*Note Credit for most of this Chaos Dwarf section goes to Mathias Ellesion, a writer of a fan-dex.
However no aspect of the fandex was included that I could not verify in another, canon source as a
unit.

Mobility: 5.5 (may briefly boost speed)

Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: Over a Kilometer
Effective Range: 200 meter.
Preferred Range: Varies
The Chaos Dwarves have long experimented with Siege Engine technology, using it to haul around
supplies and aid in labor. From lugging cannons across the planes of Azhar to hauling back supplies
from mines, there are a few places where it was deemed impractical to have slaves do the heavy
lifting. Being Chaos Dwarf technology, they are rumored to be powered and infused with daemonic
power, and fed a diet of slaves.

One of the latest designs to

see widespread service within
the Chaos Dwarf empire is the
Iron Daemon; a compact,
armored steam-driven
traction engine. The steam
boilers that provide these
machines with motive power,
to haul heavy armaments and
munitions to the battlefield
are cunningly designed so that
they can also be used to work
pressure-fed weapons such as
cannonades and wallbreakers. This means that
every Iron Daemon is also a
powerful war machine in its
own right a fully mobile
artillery piece or murderous
killing engine able to smash
through fortifications and
hack down ranks of living
soldiers with equal ease.
Its a powerful hauler, and most obstacles in the way are simply run-over without stopping. It can
carry many carriages of supplies and other artillery placements at once, such is its power. The
Carriage can be made to go much faster over brief bursts of speed. However as the Tamurkhan
campaign proved just as with the Germans in Russia terrible, muddy terrain can greatly slow this
train.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: At long range the Iron Daemon carries a pair of short-ranged, attached cannonades with
a range of a 100 meters. This cannonade fires red-hot l shrapnel and curse-laden bullets, though
given its fixed position it cannot be turned without turning the entire vehicle. While rarely it
misfires, this is probably one of the more reliable C. Dawi weapons.
There is also a variant of the Iron Daemon known as the Skullcracker. When laying siege to an
enemy, a Daemonsmith will sometimes remove the fel cannonades of an Iron Daemon and replace
them with a hissing and grinding arcane-mechanical conglomeration of iron hammers, hacking
blades and brutal picks. Designed to smash down walls and tear fortifications asunder, the cruel
blades of the so-called Skullcracker are equally adept at pulverizing the flesh and bones of any
enemy unfortunate to be caught in its implacable path.

Finally the Chaos Dwarf crew themselves carry some weapons that are seen in the Chaos Dwarf unit
section.
Defense: Its a massive target clad in plate-equivalent armor. Very durable to harm, and normally
artillery weapons would be required to kill it.
==Additional Factors==
As mentioned the Iron Daemon is not only going to have an important role in battle but carting
around other artillery pieces. With Iron Daemons their mobility improves greatly- save possibly in
the most difficult of terrain or weather conditions- but without the Chaos Dwarf artillery advance
slows to a crawl.

Mobility: Immovable, requires Iron Daemon

Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: 500 meters
Effective Range: 240 meters
Preferred Range: Ranged

Magma cannons are a powerful and evil weapon designed solely to deal with packed masses of
troops charging their lines. When these trolls, orcs or what have you get close the canon lets loose
a barrage of molten metal and fire, horrifically burning those caught in its blast (which is akin to
grapeshot) to death. The Magma Cannon has seen long use and been the subject of considerable
modification and experimentation by Chaos Dwarf Daemonsmith engineers and no two are quite
the same, but rather the product of an individuals malign creativity. Some use pressurized steamboilers to jet gouts of burning Sulphur, caustic tar or pyretic acids, while others incorporate
sorcerous bound volcanic glass shells in which molten lava drawn from the deep earth slumbers
until its shell is shattered.
Regarded as one of the great works of a Daemonsmith's craft, neophyte Sorcerer-engineers vie with
each other to produce the most deadly Magma Cannons of their own design. Many have perished
as a result of such experimentation either overcome by choking fumes, dissolved by acrid
vapours, or blown to shreds when their volatile mixtures have exploded unexpectedly. To their
overlords in the priesthood of Hashut, this is only right and proper; as such failure is not tolerated
in the service of the Father of Darkness.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: The Magma cannon has a max range of 100 meters though it will likely be used at closer
ranges then that. The crew has the weapons found in the Chaos Dwarf profile. Its molten metal is
hot enough to melt stone.
Defense: The cannon itself is durable, though killing the crew can stop it. The crew wears
blackstone armor.

Mobility: Immovable, requires Iron Daemon

Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: Over a Kilometer
Effective Range: Same
Preferred Range: ^^
"The dwarfs on the towers removed heavy tubular devices from racks and stuffed them down the
yawning mouths of their artillery. Shielding their eyes by lowering the visors of their helms, the dwarfs
touched flame to their weapons. A burst of blazing light, a snarl like the belly-growl of a bear, and the
weird cylinders flew from the artillery. They streaked towards the courtyard, sparks streaming from
their hollow ends. One of the rockets smashed into the outer wall of the stronghold, punching almost
clean through before becoming stuck. It sizzled there for a moment, then exploded in a burst of fire
and poisonous gas.

The second rocket smashed down into the courtyard itself, glancing off the basalt flagstones and
spinning crazily about. Northmen fled before the runaway missile, leaping upstairs and clinging to
walls to avoid its crazed movement. At last, the sparks leaping from the rockets end sputtered out and
it became still.
The Chaos Dwarfs utilize a number of different types of gunpowder-driven rocket weapons and the
Deathshrieker is one of the more diabolic examples of these weapons, as bound up within its
munitions are howling, malevolent fire-sprits harvested from the cinders of Hashuts sacrificial
altars, and it is the hellish shrieking of these sprits when loosed that gives the weapon its name. The
packed multiple warheads of the Deathshrieker detonate in the air above the battlefield in a
storm of fire fire which has its own terrible hunger for life upon which to visit its touch.
Screaming, fanged tendrils of flame plunge downwards from the blast and expend their strength
actively seeking out victims. The tormented sprits are far from discerning though as to whose flesh
they burn, and the Chaos Dwarfs must be cautious lest their own suffer from the wrathful
weapon.
In addition to the hellish Deathshrieker rockets, the launchers they use are also able to fire more
conventional demolition rockets if needs be. These use densely packed explosive rocket heads with
delayed fuses in a strengthened iron tube to channel the blast against a single point. The rocket
mounts a crown of spikes that drive the rocket into its target and hold it there whilst it explodes. In
this fashion the rocket can punch through even very dense stone and can make a terrible mess
of any large creature that gets in its way too. However in contrast to the life seeking daemonic
rockets the more conventional ones are much more inaccurate.
Chaos Dwarfs have made attempts to create larger, more powerful rocket systems however
thankfully for the inhabitants of the Warhammer world these have been horrific failures, with the
last nearly blowing up Zharr-Naggarund.
==LOADOUT==
Offensive: Deathrockets are hellish, semi-sentient rockets that can cause giant fireballs where they
hit, if being a bit weak in total explosive power. Demolition Rockets are those used for medium
grade fortifications or monsters but overall lack large blast radiuses needed for killing many at
once.
Rarely these rockets might veer off course, strike friendly forces, be duds or even blow-up on
launch! Chaos Dwarf operators use weapons found in the basic Chaos Dwarf profile.
Defense: The artillery itself has some armor as a vehicle; however its Chaos Dwarf handlers wear
blackshard armor.

Mobility: Immovable, requires Iron

Daemon
Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: Several Kilometers
Effective Range: 720 meters
Preferred Range: ^^
Dreadquake Mortars are amongst the
largest and most effective of all the
mighty siege weapons deployed by the
Chaos Dwarfs. They rank alongside other
such mighty bombards and cannon able to
rend the earth and smash through layered
stone fortifications as if they were
kindling. The Dreadquakes deadly
projectiles are fired by steam pressure
that is generated by a boiler and
contained within a pressure vessel
conventional gunpowder being far too dangerous given the volatility of the Dreadquakes unique
and powerful shells. As a consequence it takes quite a while for the machine to generate enough
steam to fire a single shot limiting its potential in battle. But even on the open field it is a
supremely dangerous weapon against large and static targets and if successfully fired against
enemy infantry, it can wreak carnage as more than one Orc tribe of the Worlds Edge Mountains has
found to their cost.
The Dreadquake's shells are of a secret construction whose arcana are the sole preserve of the
Chaos Dwarf Sorcerer Lords and prophets of Hashut. When fired from the Dreadquake they burst
into a roaring; blood red light, and when they strike they explode, shattering buildings apart
and smashing into the ground like a hammer-blow from the gods, bleeding crimson energy from
the wounded earth. These shells take the form of metal spheres and are so heavy and unwieldy
that an Ogre commonly forms part of the machine's crew in order to speed up the loading.
==LOADOUT==

Gotrek's scowl spoke volumes. But before he could reply, the air was split by a whistling shriek that
had everyone groping to cover their ears. A moment later, a thunderous boom cracked the sky and
then, farther down the parapet, a huge chunk of stone was blasted free, carrying dwarfs with it to their
doom. The whole wall shuddered from the impact and Felix nearly lost his balance. 'What in Sigmar's
name was that?' he shouted.
'Mortar,' Gotrek roared. 'There's a Grimnir-be-damned mortar out there somewhere!' Gotrek and
Felix: Road of Skulls
Offensive: Dreadquake rounds are truly massive shells capable of destroying dozens of men with
each massive blast and stunning more with miniature Earthquakes. However as a downside the
shells are exceptionally dangerous to handle (and heavy, requiring a slave-ogre) with the weapon
firing far slower than other vehicles.
The Chaos Dwarf handlers have weapons shown in that section, while the Ogre slave, if convinced
to fight, would have a giant club or something.
Defense: The artillery itself has some armor as a vehicle; however its Chaos Dwarf handlers wear
blackshard armor.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 6
Max Range: Several Kilometers
Effective Range: 600+ Meters
Preferred Range: If given the
daemon-machines choice, melee.
Part daemon, part war machine,
the Hellcannon of Chaos is a
massive construct of iron and
brass that growls and shakes with
diabolic sentience. In battle, these
arcane engines heave great blasts
of daemonic energy arcing
through the air toward their
targets, incandescent explosions
liquefying anything they touch
and sending the survivors

screaming in all directions. These hell-forged beasts are guided rather than crewed by their
teams of corrupt and twisted Chaos Dwarfs, in whose volcanic furnaces the Hellcannons are
created. It is their duty to restrain the Hellcannon in the fires of battle, for the daemons bound
within each war construct hunger constantly for a banquet of warm flesh and hot blood laced with
the taste of fear.
The Dawi Zharr load their charge brutally by shoveling the bodies of their foes (or slaves) into the
dire-furnace at the Hellcannon's rear. Flesh runs like wax, dribbling onto the earth under the
crew's feet in thick, hissing gobs as the daemonic fires strip away flesh and feed upon the captives'
souls. These are perverted into wailing bolts of pure chaos, and vomited toward the Hellcannon's
target in powerful spasms of hate and malice.
A Hellcannon, towering above the Chaos Dwarfs and their greenskin allies, is almost as durable as a
greater daemon. Such is the strength and bloodlust of the Daemonic machine that it must be
chained to the ground to prevent it from rampaging toward the enemy lines, intent on
gorging itself on raw flesh. Even these precautions prove inadequate should the enemy draw too
close; it is whispered that there is nothing that can truly stay a Hellcannon's insatiable lust for
destruction. A single Hellcannon is quite capable of blasting apart the walls of even the most
stalwart fortress.
Though larger than normal, Knights of the Realm does provide exacting dimensions for the main
Hellcannon shown in the book. It was twenty feet long, with a cannon barrel with the same
diameter, fifteen feet high and weighed more than a Norse longship fully laden with treasure.
Even scaling down from that slightly the average Hellcannon is a truly massive device. Fortunately
for their enemies, these devices are exceptionally rare and difficult to build.
The sky was filled with a hideous roaring sound, and Calard shielded his eyes against the inferno as
another fireball came screaming down towards the island. Even from this distance, Calard could feel
the intense heat it radiated as it fell inexorably towards one of the immense towers looming above the
eastern curtain wall. Calard looked on in horror.
Men were streaming away from the doomed tower, racing along the walls to either side of it and
hurling themselves down the stairs leading from its lower levels to the inside courtyard. There was
only one exit from the top of the tower, a steep spiralling staircase, and no doubt scores of men would
be fighting to hurl themselves down it. Calard knew that none of them would survive.
The roaring inferno struck the top of the tower with colossal force, engulfing it in red fire. The entire
castle trembled beneath the impact, and the top two levels of the tower were utterly demolished in an
instant. Stone turned molten beneath the unnatural heat, running like syrup down the sheer sides of
the walls, and tons of red-hot rock were sent flying in all directions.
Hundreds of men were consumed in the raging holocaust. Those standing exposed on top of the tower
were killed instantly, flesh and bones burnt away to cinders even as the trebuchets were rendered into
ash. The skin of those inside burst into flame, their lungs filled with scalding heat and fire as they
breathed in. The top of the tower exploded like earthenware left too long in a kiln, stonework thrown
out in all directions. The lucky ones were ripped apart in the detonation, heads and bodies crushed by

hunks of superheated stone, but those that were not killed instantly were hurled into the air, their flesh
burning as they plummeted hundreds of feet to their deaths.
Molten, burning chunks of rock crashed down into the buildings within the castle walls, smashing
through shingled and thatched roofs, and a dozen of them were instantly ablaze.
The walls of Castle Lyonesse had stood resolute in the face of the restless dead of cursed Mousillon, and
had repelled more than one large-scale assault by the dark elven kin from across the seas. They had
withstood stones hurled by catapults, had defied battering rams, and even held firm against the
cannons of the Empire navy. Yet even after just minutes of this barrage, it was clear that Castle
Lyonesse was doomed unless the enemy artillery was neutralised.
A red-hot piece of stonework the size of a man's head spun end over end down towards Calard. He
shouted a warning and dived to the side as it arced towards him. It took a peasant warden standing
nearby squarely in the face, taking his head clean off.
There was an almighty crash, and Calard looked up to see the upper half of the tower, or at least the
half which had not already been destroyed, collapse and fall, its structural integrity shattered. Once
again the earth shook as hundreds of tons of stonework smashed to the ground, causing a great cloud
of dust to rise.
'By the blood of the Breton,' swore Calard, seeing the terrible destruction that had been wrought.
'Not even the cannons of Nuln are so potent,' said Dieter, his face red from the exertion of racing down
the stairs.
'If this continues, Lyonesse will be a molten ruin in hours,' said Reolus, his eyes blazing with rage.

A section of the eastern wall was struck by a fiery inferno as Calard jogged along behind Reolus, and
screams of pain and fear echoed through the night as a fifty foot section exploded inwards, as if it were
made of sodden timber, not thirty feet of solid rock. The war machine had struck high, taking off the
top twenty feet of the high wall. A full breach had not been smashed through the immense barrier, but
Calard had no doubt that the next shot would be recalculated to be more damaging still. Knight of
the Realm
==LOADOUT==

Even as the engineers wheeled their cannons and bolt shooters towards this new threat, the first
hellcannon opened fire. Its great bronze jaw opened, revealing a sulphurous gullet that squirmed with
bound magic. From the depths of its gullet, dark fire churned as it digested the souls trapped within
the skulls that had been shoveled into its burning furnace. With a belching roar, the cannon vomited
forth a ball of fire that arced high over the marauders, descending towards the army of Karak Kadrin.
The Chaos fire exploded on impact with the ground, consuming dozens of dwarfs within its fiery blast,
their ashes scattered to the spring wind within an instant. A gaping hole had been opened in the Karak
Kadrin line, as those that had survived the attack retreated from the smoldering crater it had left.Grudgebearer
Offensive: The Hellcannon fires a massive bolt of energy known as doomfire at great range.
Depending on how crowded the opposition is this can kill dozens at once for most variants of
this cannon, with the extraordinarily large variant in Knight of the Realm (named EreshkigalNamtar) capable of incinerating hundreds of closely packed knights with each shot. This
blast can ignore armor and turn enemies to ash. The handlers of the weapon utilize axes and typical
Chaos Dwarf weaponry.
However the daemon-engine is extremely unreliable, and might just charge enemy lines on its
own accord if its owners cannot control it. Even if they get it to fire it might still seize the
instance to rebel, consuming its handlers , consuming some of the Winds of Magic on the

battlefield (hurting their own side) , breaking its chains to rush forward or, in the worst case
scenario, breaking its chains, killing its handlers, and then going on a warpath against Chaos
forces until put down. Sometimes also it might fire a massively powerful blast that completely
drains it of use afterwards.
As he gathered his hammerers around him again, converging on the standard still proudly borne aloft
by Hengrid who stood shouting defiantly at the twisted cousins of the dwarf, a cannonball bounced off
the earth and sheared through the chains holding down one side of a hellcannon. With its bonds
weakened, the daemonic engine reared backward, its wheels grinding of their own accord, crushing
the crew beneath the steel spikes of its treads. As it turned, the remaining chains snapped and tore
from the ground and it vomited forth a stream of fire and filth that burned and corroded through the
cannon next to it. Attacked by its neighbour, the earthshaker screamed in pain and anger and threw
itself at its own chains, ignoring the shouts and prods of its crew. The freed hellcannon rumbled
forward, carving through the Chaos dwarfs and marauders, belching flame and trampling them under
its armoured wheels. Malignant energy flared from pores and gashes in its structure and the
marauders turned to battle against the creature that attacked them from the rear.
-An example, from Grudgebearer, of what happens when the C. Dawi lose control of their vehicles.
Defense: The artillery itself possesses powerful brass armor and innate durability. Said armor is
thick enough that normal melee weapons and arrows stand no chance of getting through. The
Chaos Dwarf crews have blackshard armor.
Abruptly, there came a sound like a mountain falling, and a comet trailing hellish red flames shot up
into the air from the top of the steep-sided hillock. It soared up high and Calard followed its trajectory
skyward, mouth gaping wide in shock and wonder. Then the roaring comet reached the top of its arc
and began to descend towards the ground; towards the charging Bretonnians.
'Lady protect us,' Calard breathed as the roiling inferno came screaming down towards the valley
floor, and he heard shouts of panic and fear spread through the ranks.
Calard was thrown from the saddle as the missile smashed down amongst the knights fifty feet to his
left, making the ground shudder beneath the impact, and the sounds of horses and men roaring in
agony rose to the heavens, louder even than the screaming winds. The heatwave of the blast burnt
Calard's lungs, and he gasped as, even at this distance, his plate armour heated up to an
uncomfortable level.
Those knights closer in to the blast were cooked alive inside their armour, their flesh bursting into
flames along with tabards, banners and horseflesh. A circle over fifty yards in diameter was scorched
into the ground, ice and snow instantly turning to steam. Hundreds died in that first barrage, their
flesh igniting beneath the intense heat, their blood boiling within their veins.

Those directly under the impact of the fireball were unrecognisable, nothing more than charred,
twisted corpses that still burned fiercely. So intense were the unnaturally burning, vivid red flames
that plate armor ran like quicksilver, dripping onto the ground in flaming, hissing blobs.

Below are those Chaos Dwarf contraptions that, while existing, are either only seen once, incredibly
difficult to build, or somewhat antiquated. In fact of those below, only one has had any mention in
recent additions.

Mobility: 3
Training/Experience: 5-6
Max & Effective Range: 500 meters (Bazuka) -50 meters (Swivel Gun)
Preferred Range: Ranged
The Bazuka is a simple-seeming tube like weapon fires a rocket with a powerful explosive
warhead. Its main advantage is that it is light and relatively simple to use. It dispenses with the
need for a cumbersome chassis and can be carried about with a crew of two - one to carry the
rockets, one to carry the gun. Its blasts, always requiring a clear line of sight, are powerful but slow
to reload. As this technology is also unperfected there is a chance of this gun misfiring or even
blowing up in the gunners face!
From behind Felix came a weird spluttering hissing noise. Something flashed past overhead, trailing
fire. It exploded in the dragons wounded side, sending great chunks of flesh hurtling outwards, and

exposing bone and inner organs. The dragon let out a fearsome roar that was somewhere between a
bellow and a scream. As he closed with the creature, Felix could hear the air hissing out of the dragons
lungs through the hole in its chest.

Felix saw that Malakai was stuffing something into the metal tube he carried once more. As the dragon
started to rise, he finished the operation and swung the cylinder into position on his shoulder. The
dragon stretched its neck towards him, and as it did so, Malakai pulled some sort of trigger on the
front of the tube. Sparks flew from the back of the tube and another projectile flashed forth and sped
straight towards the dragons mouth. It reminded Felix of the fireworks he had seen unleashed at
Altdorf to celebrate the Emperors birthday. No firework had ever exploded with quite such violence
though. The force of the explosion loosened several of the dragons man-sized fangs, and tore a hole in
the top of the creatures mouth . Gotrek and Felix: Dragonslayer. Note this dragon was
exceptionally large and powerful, being over 100 feet tall and heavily mutated by Chaos. However
as a later quote shows the bazooka does not have an exceptionally large blast radius, being able
to kill only 6 orcs in formation at once (and likely wound several others).
The Chaos Dwarf Swivel Gun is a light, portable cannon which only requires a crew of two
Chaos Dwarfs to operate. Unlike heavier cannons which fire a solid ball, the Swivel Gun fires
devastating blasts of shrapnel.. The shrapnel inflicts hits on enemy troops within a broad arc of
fire. This wide arc of fire, and the weapon's mobility in the hands of experienced operators, make
the Swivel Gun an excellent weapon for providing close artillery support.

Other benefits include the fact that the Swivel gun is almost always with a source of ammo, as
the Chaos Dwarfs can just pick junk off the ground, stuff it inside the canon, then fire. It can
reload really easily, with at least one enemy force dying due to surprise of the fact.

Mobility: 6
Training/Experience: 5-6
Max & Effective Range: Melee
Preferred Range: Melee
The Whirlwind is a two-wheeled push-cart with spikes fixed to the front and scythes protruding
from the wheels. Three rotating flails and three rotating scythes are mounted on the front, and are
driven by means of cogs and gears linked to the axle. The flails and scythes therefore only rotate
while the cart is being pushed. The Whirlwind is principally a device for breaking up and
smashing through solid formations of troops. Should the device succeed, it may proceed to
engage other targets beyond. Several of these devices may form up in a unit to create a combined
attack.
The Tenderizer is a variant of the Whirlwind. Its axle is linked by gears to three enormous
concussive implements. As the device is pushed forward these implements batter and crush foes
in its path. It operates in a similar way to the Whirlwind except that the nature of the damage
inflicted is different. Both devices are pushed by bull centaurs.

Mobility: 5
Training/Experience: 7
Max & Effective Range: Cannon
Preferred Range: Ranged
Barundin had no time to spare to see how his veterans fared, for something else was moving up the
valley. It strode forward, a great mechanical giant, belching smoke and fire, the air around it
shimmering not just with heat but also diabolical energy. Plated with riveted iron and fashioned in the
shape of a great bull-headed man, the infernal machine was rocked back as a cannonball struck it in
the midriff, leaving a tearing gate.
Oil spilled from the wound like blood, and smashed gears and broken chains could be seen through the
rent in its armor.
A kollossus, whispered Hengrid, and for the first time ever, Barundin could detect fear in the fierce
warriors voice. Not when they had faced the disgusting rat ogres, the whirling fanatics of the night
goblins, the noisome trolls, the crackling energy of the shamans had Hengrid ever shown a moments
hesitation; now his voice quavered, if only slightly.
--Grudgebeaer
Seen only in grudgebearer, the colossus is a many meter sized giant of metal and daemon. By virtue
of size alone this iron monstrosity can crush and smash through lesser lines, even knock over
towering creatures. To make matters worse it also has in-built flamethrowers in its shoulders

and repeating cannons in its bull-mouth. This construct was durable enough that it took a
gyrocopter and several rounds of direct canon impacts to topple it.

Mobility: 2
Training/Experience: 3
Max Range: 600 meters
Effective Range: 200-300m
Preferred Range: Ranged
Hobgoblins build clumsy devises and weapons, from wolf-pulled wagons to cruel devices designed
only for the purpose of inflicting pain and torture upon their enemies. The Hobgoblins carelessly
lash wood and iron together resulting in crudely constructed contraptions, often lethal to both
Hobgoblin and foe alike!
The most common war machine Hobgoblins construct is the potent spear chukka - a giant, leveroperated bow that fires huge bolts capable of penetrating deep into ranked formations of
troops, skewering masses of soldiers at once or even dispatching a large beast in a single deadly
shot.
Although crude and primitive compared to the arsenals of the Chaos Dwarfs, Hobgoblin spear
chukkas can provide effective ranged supportthat is, if they actually hit

If need be the Chaos Forces can build catapults, trebuchet and ballista, though they will only do
this for a protracted siege. Giant Ladders can also be built for those circumstances, and Lord
Mortkins campaign showed shows Chaos Dwarves building giant steam-driven Siege Towers .