#Brayherd

[yr-hen-ogledd]

... roam not in the woode.

Since I don't have much energy for hobby stuff these days, and even a closed display cabinet needs dusting every so often, I decided to go back and photograph some slightly older models with the benefit of the black backdrop and the ring light and the magic phone and all that.

[skxrbrand]

𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 - 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑

King Cleaver is one of the Blood God's many aspects, a more beastly depiction of the Blood God. It is an older depiction of Khorne hailing from the earliest days of the Beastmen, though in more recent times, King Cleaver has gained a following among men as well. The Aspect was created by related splinter-groups of Beastmen called the Butcherherds, Khornate Warbands of Beastmen. In Beastmen society, Horns are enormously important; to lose them or simply be born without them guarantees one a permanent lack of rank throughout ones life. However, the Butcherherds put emphasis on tusks as being just as worthy of renown as a good, impressive pair of horns. This departure from social norms led to disagreement and fighting, but eventually tusk-bearing Beastmen would carve their place in society with their weapons, their claws, and their tusks of course. To develop prominent tusks with or instead of Horns is thereafter known as being 'blessed by the King of Cleavers' and a beastmen who has them, but not horns, can still rise high in Brayherd society. King Cleaver himself is a porcine deity, said to resemble a monstrous boar, with a majestic if hellish-array of tusks and teeth. He had black, metallic fur and fought with a signature weapon called the Great Cleaver. The Cleaver is bigger than the King himself and by all accounts he should not be able to lift it, yet does and with ease, using the awful toothed blade to rend heads from shoulders. King Clever most closely resembles a daemonic Deodon or Enteledon, and also wears the monikers Bloodboar and Hell Pig.

"King Cleaver" is an avatar of Khorne revealed in Age of Sigmar.

[ainlifun]

Sābon's Champions: Whiteblack Beastmen

Thryrr Ashmaw

Thryrr is a Bray, that lowest rung in the brutal hierarchy of the Beastmen. It was exactly this fact, and the harsh life that came along with it, that saw Ashmaw defecting from his heard and taking not a few of the Ungor and his fellow Brays along with him. Not just leaving, Thryrr spits upon the very name of the gods and the existence that he feels they have cursed him with. Thusly, he turns to Malal's side.

Normally, a Brayherd would not notice a ungor or two breaking off from the pack, but a split this size was a different story. Since Ungors and Brays are the weapon and armor makers in most Warherds, this treachery was not going to be tolerated.

But the reprisal was not as easy as the Beastlord expected. He never considers the lesser-beasts might stand their ground and all the war parties he sends into the deep forests to bring the defectives back to be tortured, beaten, and sacrificed never return. When he goes himself, he finds out why: using their stealth and their skill with bow and arrow, Thryrr leads his rebels against their persuers in devastating guerilla warfare.

Thryrr himself faces down the enraged Beastlord and manages to secure a close victory through the use of poisoned arrows and his rusty spear. He dances out of the way of Beastlord's heavy axe, waiting until the toxins slow and finally weaken him enough for the kill. Then, he plunges his dagger into his former leader's chest and rips his heart out for the glory of Malal.

It is this act that sees him blessed, his sooty brown fur regrowing as black and white. His renown sees him coming into service of the Greater Daemon Sābon, whom he sees as a holy spawn of the Malignant Lord. If she wished it, he would follow her unto death.

Kruall the Blessed

Kruall's fortunes were many, as far as Ungors went. He was born larger, stronger, and more clever than his kin and when he reached maturity, even his horns were noteworthy. Kruall was one of the few half-horns born among the Ungor ranks; respected (and envied) among his kin and no so often targeted by the true-gors of his herd. During the raucous feasting and celebration following a successful raid or the simple coming of the full Chaos Moon, beastwomen even deign to share his company from time to time.

But Kruall desires more, as all creatures of Chaos do. However, his station as an Ungor, even a fairly powerful one, limits what he can attain in reality. How cruel is it! For the gods to make him so like the perfect Gors and Wargors that swagger about the Brayherd, granted the the best armor, weapons, and chosen first by the females of the herd...yet, he is not one of them? No matter how he bullies the other Ungors or pushes his suite with his betters.

Though amused, not all Gors handle his challenges in good grace, and one seeks to soundly put Kruall in his place: at the bottom of the hierarchy. The battle is one-sided and Kruall's loss is humiliating, punctuated by the winner urinating on him to show his dominance.

It's the last straw for Kruall, unwilling to show his face to the lesser ungors not face the grinning maws of his betters. He deserts the Brayherd and when fervent prayers to the gods result in nothing, he deserts them too... Where he once reserved his hatred for men and their makings, Kruall feels that same black hatred aimed at his kin.

And hears the first whisperings of Malal in his ears...

[44gamez]

Warhammer Old World Starter Boxes Revealed

The Warhammer Old World Starter Containers have been Revealed alongside the preliminary launch plan for merchandise. So, it is lastly time for Warhammer Old World to launch, and we have now had our affirmation of the discharge bins after the leak final week. We'll spotlight it briefly under to maintain it as simple to comply with as doable.

Warhammer Old World Starter Containers

So, the rumours had been true and we'll be getting two starter bins for the Bretonnia and Tomb Kings respectively. So, what are we : - Every field incorporates a 1,250 level military - Not all fashions within the equipment are plastic “dozens” of all-plastic miniatures - A whole hardback Warhammer Old World rulebook - A reference sheet - 20 D6 cube - One scatter cube - Three weapon templates - Two measuring sticks - Switch sheets The large query here's what fashions are plastic. We all know from the Bretonnia reveal that the Knights of the Realm (horse models on the best and left), Males-at-arms (melee models on the entrance), the Peasant bowmen (the one's with the bows…) and the Pegasus Knights are all returning kits. Sadly, the field doesn't embody the brand new Knights of the Realm on Foot. As for Tomb Kings, we do not have as many particulars, however we all know the Necrolith Bone Dragon can be a brand new plastic equipment.

Warhammer Old World Guidelines, Forces Books, and Arcane Journals

Arcane Journals That is the “non-essential” additional e-book for every faction. These are “softbooks” and can broaden the historical past, maps, particular characters, magic gadgets, spells, eventualities and way more. However, as identified by GW these will not be required.

Forces of Fantasy and Ravening Hordes These will act as the important thing books for faction-specific guidelines. These are break up into the 2 bins under, masking the Forces of Fantasy and Ravening Hordes.

Forces of Fantasy: - Covers Dwarfen Mountain Holds, the Empire of Man, the Kingdom of Bretonnia, the Wooden Elf Realms, and the Excessive Elf Realms - 192-pages - Every military will get an introduction, a gallery of miniatures, a grand military composition listing, a whole set of unit profiles (so that you’ll haven't any want for a separate military e-book to play), particular guidelines, magic gadgets, and distinctive spells Ravening Hordes: - Masking Orc and Goblin Tribes, the Warriors of Chaos, the Beastmen Brayherds, and the Tomb Kings of Khemri - 160-pages - Every military will get an introduction, a gallery of miniatures, a grand military composition listing, a whole set of unit profiles (so that you’ll haven't any want for a separate military e-book to play), particular guidelines, magic gadgets, and distinctive spells This e-book nonetheless requires the Core Rulebook (under) to make use of.

The large meaty e-book that units everybody up for play. The e-book is included in every of the Bretonnia and Tomb King “starter bins” above however can be out there individually: - 352-page e-book - 70 pages of background on the World of Legend (the identify given the Old World setting) - Core and superior guidelines for gameplay, alongside an evidence of Winds of Magic, and casting spells - Gallery of armies painted by the “Eavy Metallic studio” - Guidelines for constructing a military and organising a battlefield Read the full article

[slyfoxstudio]

As the year draws down quickly it looks like these will be the last of my completed models for 2017.So here they are: One finished Chaos warrior to round out my Bloodbowl team for now. I had some older Chaos warriors I was planning on using, but next to this guy they are so damn tiny I may have to wait until I can find some bigger models. No matter though, at least now the team has enough models for a sub if need be. I had plenty of leftover bits from the Beastmen box so I thought I’d make up a team banner, which sort of ballooned into a counter. I’m thinking it will make a good touchdown marker, although seeing its a Chaos team maybe a casualty counter would be more appropriate!

[sohlon40k]

Ghor! Or is it Gor? I never can remember. Still well short of a herd but progress non the less. Rebasing my bestigor next before I look at the next Gor unit. Anyone have any ideas what works well for Brayherd these days? ~Sohlon~

[siamesephoenixrandomideatank]

Which Villainous Army should fight Twilight's Equestria?

Equestria, with all friendly creatures being together under the care of Princess Twilight Sparkle & her friends. Looks peaceful? Not so long!

So, let's see who should be their new opponents?

Beastmen, the cloven ones of Chaos Gods? Assuming they also got brayherds & led by 5 different hordes represent chaos undivided & each chaos god.

Or, the Greenskins. Let's assume they're led by the great warboss & they came as a WAAAGH!

I also heard that ponies are great at cooking. Maybe they care to share to the ogres & their Great Maw?

How about Mordor under rule of Sauron? Like, somehow, Sauron was sent there with potential to corrupt the creatures, as he also gots his uruks & Easterlings-Haradrims on his side.

No, Dwarves are not evil. However, they dislike magic & lost into Equestria. And, somehow, they want some rich mountains for their owns.

Maybe there's a portal on Fire Nation, and Fire Lord Ozai heard about the new realm to exploit. Maybe spare Earth Kingdom for now, and take Equestria first.

Or, menace from below the city, Skavens? Let's say it started from one, or few branches from the major clans.

The last, but not the least. Maybe it's time for Genestealer Ponies to appear & call upon the hive fleet to consume the planet.

[stories-from-the-warp]

"Human, it has reached my ears that you are looking for aid in slaying a quarry, and are willing to pay for it" - Arahwyl Silverblood for Victor Saltzpyre

The Witch Hunter turned his head, eyeing who was addressing him.

"Then you have heard correctly: a Beastman warrior has risen to prominence and where one strong leader goes, the Brayherds will follow. With the Imperial army stretched thin as it is, we cannot have a horde rampaging deep within our borders---but if we can cut off the head before the body strikes against us, then we shall."

[yr-hen-ogledd]

Trying to build up a bit of muscle tone on these burly fellas; something completely new for me.

[lightofsigmar]

Turning Stones

@sigmarsbulls

The herdstones were arranged in a crude circle around the remains of what appeared to be a sacrificial bonfire. They were ugly things, totems carved from wood and bone and stone in the shape of whatever bestial gods the gors of the brayherds worshipped. Several were daubed with arcane sigils painted in blood that made the eyes hurt if stared at for too long. One was wrapped in chains, the bones of the brayherd’s last victim still dangling from them, their bones picked clean by carrion birds.

Balthor Stormblade looked up at the sun-bleached skeleton, his face unreadable beneath the bronze helmet he wore. He had been tracking this particular herd for days now. Their leader was clever, always one step ahead of the Lord-Celestant. They had even managed to outwit Atilla Swiftwind’s Palladors, losing the Lord-Aquilor and his hunting party more times in the preceding days than Swiftwind would ever care to admit.

Balthor extended an arm, running his hand over the roughly hewn stone and tracing chain with the tips of his fingers. “They must have some kind of bray-shaman,” he said aloud. “To escape Atilla so regularly.”

One of the runes marked on the stone sparked as Balthor’s hand crossed it and he withdrew his arm sharply before leaning in to inspect it. He sniffed the air. He could smell magic. Now that he was aware he should be looking for it, the scent was obvious. It was a shame Kyros Stormlight and his Knight-Incantors had been recalled to Azyr to serve their time before the Anvil of Apotheosis. A mage’s touch would be useful right now.

With the Host busying itself with looking for survivors among the dead and the ruined buildings of the outpost settlement, the priestess wandered until she found the Balthor and the bonfire ring beyond the gates. 

“They are not stupid creatures. Awful, but not stupid.” The little Lord Relictor murmured as she approached the charred remains of the heathen spell circle. Her gryph charger skull helm’s gaze seemed to sweep over the symbols with passing interest, before settling on the Lord Celestant. “Swiftwind would do well to stop assuming such. Such a circle could only mean a shaman.”

[skxrbrand]

Prev / The Western Border Princes, Forests of Myrmidens

"Don't drink that."

Sābon's voice was soft, little more than a breeze against the ear. All the same, the creature to whom she was speaking flinched as if struck and dropped the daemon skull-turned-goblet he was prepared to sip from. The contents spilled into the grass, a bright and furious blue, hissing as it did, and the Ungor wheezed it's discontent at losing it's prize. Sābon cared not, looking at her underling with a mixture of annoyance and exasperation.

" It will kill you, Kruall. We cannot spare the numbers."

Especially not her champions.

The Ungor gave a snort, but ultimately abandoned what it managed to harvest from the ground. The blue liquid burning into the soil-- the Blood of Khade. Liquid magic. The life-fluids of gods. Even Sābon could not say that it did not call to her to sup of it's power, though she was wise enough not to chance what it might do to her if she gave into that temptation. It had drawn the Daemons of Khorne too, naturally, and Sābon had enjoyed butchering those small batches of daemons foolish enough to split from the main host. One by one, Va'rrick's numbers were dwindling and he would be weaker when he finally arrived at the capital city. She wondered if he had any inkling that a god rested beneath the cobblestones to swat him down. Him and the once-mortal consort of his father sent to assist him.

Drawn from her musings by the sound of her brayherd squabbling, Sābon turned to admonished them, casting down a bolt of black lightning just to make her point abundantly clear. No one died-- again, they couldn't spare the numbers, but the sound and the smell of burning quelled them for a time. Searching about, she did not see the patchy black-and-white hide of her other champion. The Anarche turned to Kruall.

" Blessed." Sābon prompted, interrupting her champion's flea-cracking session. He looked at her, questioningly.

" Where is Thryrr?"

" Not know." Kruall replied, his lack of care evident. It was the Ungor's opinion that the Bray should have no blessings, no accolades. Nevermind that he had felled a Beastlord. Sābon found this tiresome; even with her father's blessing, some prejudices were hard to kill. Kruall seemed to notice that his answer did not satisfy his mistress, and so he sought to expound on it.

" He go with others. Not Malal-brood. Want hunt with Red God's children."

Sābon hummed at this, though she squinted at Kruall too. No doubt the other was trying to sow suspicion and cast aspersions on her other champion, albeit surreptitiously.

" He hunts. And you do not." Sābon commented sharply. Kruall's ears fell.

" We sweep area. Only creatures drawn to Red God blood are Blood God's daemons. We kill." He picked up the skull he had dropped, a Bloodletter skull, and held it up to Sābon in supplication. " We kill for the Misbegotten One. I kill for you." And then he knelt. An obvious attempt at mollification that nonetheless, worked to appease his mistress.

" You kill. All you are good for."

The Daemon and Beastmen turned, seeing the patch black-and-white form of Thyrr slinking from the shadows. He shook himself, the residual Ulgu magic fleeing his fur as he did. As soon as Kruall saw his rival, he rose back to his hooves, hackles raised.

" Coin of victory is death." The Ungor fired back at the Bray. " Yes. Yes, I am good at it."

" Kruall." Sābon's voice was a warning. She wasn't in the mood for one of their arguments, evidently. When the Ungor backed down, bending his head, she looked again to Thryrr.

" What do you bring. News, offerings?"

" News, my Lady." Thryrr replied, his voice scratchy. An long-healed injury to his throat had made it so. He looked at her, eyes glittering.

" Red God's blood has drawn the Red Sage. She has been captured. Red God waits for you. Wants you to see her. Wants to speak to you. Tells me to bring you these words."

Sābon was suddenly animated, suddenly in motion. The squabbles of her underlings left behind, she strode pass the pair of them. Idonea had been captured at last, but woe that she was not the one to make the catch!

[ainlifun]

Malal and Beastmen

Beastmen are largely loathe to interact with the forces of Malal, be that his mortals or his daemons. They are chaos by nature, leaning towards perhaps one god or another, therefore Malal's creed is anathema to their entire existence. Commonly enough, the Daemons of Malal and Beasts of Chaos battle over supremacy of the Forests of Men. Malalians have the power, but the Beastmen by far outnumber them as well as have a natural knowledge of the wilds that Malalians do not.

However, when Beastmen do take the fifth path, it is almost always the lowest among them who turn: Brays, Turnskins, and Ungors. Because of this, and on top of their general weakness and lack of horns, these particular beastmen are relegated to the bottom of the pecking order where any treachery is the least damaging.

These Lesser Gors occasionally tire of the abuse heaped on them by the Gors of the tribe and strike out on their own into brayherds made of only their own kind, with the strongest of the Un-gors, called a Half Horn, leading them. However, these spitefully splintered groups rarely last long. Does tend to pair off with the strongest of beastmen for protection's sake, and so even un-gor does are loath to join their brethren. The original herd will inevitably go seeking this rebellious splinter group, forcibly beating them back in line and killing any leaders. If not them, then another herd-- the dexterity of the Ungor makes them invaluable to Brayherds as they are the only ones who can fashion armor and weapons.

Thusly, ever Half Horn Chieftain knows that he lives on borrowed time and that if, or more like when, the original herd catches up to him his fate will be grisly indeed. In order to avoid reprisal from the mother-herd, some Half-Horns will call upon the Hierarch, forsaking the Dark Gods. And sometimes, Malal will answer: he will send a Champion to lead the Herd or perhaps even mutate the current Ungor Beastlord and some of his warriors into a powerful creature of Chaos in order to fend off the aggression of Beastkin who search for them.

He marks his chosen with fur of solid black, solid white, or black and white patterns.

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

(The Beenis Brayherd has slaughtered it's way across the Hive City, and used the flesh of the dead and the filth of the Underhive to rebuild the entire thing into a fleshy tower resembling the original victim's "Beenis", albeit on a massive scale. The "SuperBeenis" throbs and squeals, visible from space. You swear you could see it blink an eye on its tip at you from your ship in orbit, mockingly.)

(you need to stop flogging the dead horse, this is NS4W and will get your horny ass blocked)

[primestartes]

VomirthFoulstorm - Dragon OgorShaggoth Champion of Nurgle

“WAAAARGH!”

The warcry of a thousand green-skinned beasts roared over the horizon like a clap of thunder, carrying with such glorious vigour across the wind and into the cupped palm of the bearded Shaggoth listening for that familiar melody. One of the few that gave his ancient form some sensation of pleasure in a boorish existence. “Do you hear that, my old friend?” He asks the great vulture resting on his pauldron. The thing that was once the grand eagle of the Aelvish Prince Bel-Alran centuries ago has long since shed its regality. Its head hanging loosely as if no bones structured under the twitching bulges of insects chewing on constantly healing wounds that came and went from the thousand diseases breeding under his feathered hide.

Empty sockets weeping maggots and buzzing flies, it is his own eye bulging from the centre of its skull that looked out with him, wheezing sound from beak and stuffed nostrils. Wings flapping a sick glee in agreement finally and insectoid limbs twitching along its stomach.

A wry smile curled on Vomirth’s tusked face. “You have gotten quite distracted as of late, it is due time to release your newest brood.” He noted before scratching on the filth-darkened belly, provoking a shiver and coo from the familiar. “Let us gather the rest of the war-tribes.” The Dragon Ogor shifted to pick up his plague-sword as his great form strode on its lower half, each step a soft quake of power whilst the storm that constantly followed his visage crashed and shattered the surrounding earth in its hurls of eager lightning born from the Rot-Lord’s moods.

From a charge’s distance of his command tent, there was a small city of tents and gatherings; from the conversations and sword-trials of brother-tribes and their blessed champions to the cornerstone of a rotfray herd that stalked after them in no-doubt worshipping trot for the Dragon Ogor’s blighted storm scouring through Ghur. Vomirth allowed it, he welcomed his patron’s mewling warriors and dark-kin in his own personal quest of destruction.

Long has he hunted for his fallen weapon, precious to him and him alone, and Nurgle - the Lord of Pestilence - has given him visions of it in his long rest between centuries. Vomirth is close, he can feel it.

“Do you hear it, my followers?” He questioned with a fatherly hum, lifting a hand out that brought their attention to their master, they have been here for weeks. Not of rest but for his long meditation. Vomirth’s voice was soft to him, but to them - it was a quiet storm rolling in grand rises and low falls that made the loose rocks bounce. “The Orruk are coming as I expected, finally a fair sport for our blades and a breeding garden for the storm’s gifts. Ready your wargear and pray to the Blight-Father, he is eager to use his concoctions brewing in my storm. Who among you will be the first to taste it on your tongues and wetten your blades?”

In his question, the warriors of the Three Great Tribes roared out to it. In his challenge, the blight-oracles of the Six Covens praised. In his call, the brayherd bleated with unrestrained eagerness.

To all, the Shaggoth were their war-chief, and he rose his blessed sword while a tide of green was appearing on the horizon as he and his three under-brothers in the far cornering distance moved to observe the coming blood-spill. Despite their distance, Vomirth saw them and their primordial power hummed between each other. Blade reaching high as the power of the storm rolled through the Shaggoth’s bones and sickly hide to surge through the rusted blade. With an explosion of pure power, the fell-green arcs rose to the rolling black cloud. The shadows of daemons dancing and frolicking behind their dark veils, catching and playing with their summoner’s beacon before hurling it like children at play.

Here and there, slamming into the green ranks of howling marauders over and over - some even slamming back at the camp or harmlessly bounce on Vomirth and his brothers’ scales. The warband marshalling to see the awesome might of the Stormscorned, roaring and bleating in eagerness and desire to be loose with their filth-encrusted blades and grim weapons. The beasts at their chains more literal in this want.

With a great leap crossing over the ranks of his thralls, Vomirth landed foremost with the fly-bitten horses of his gifted knights and the impatient stamps of centigors while the earth cracked from his grand weight. The vulture familiar squawking in taloned gropes over his armour and chains, wanting to stay perched as the lazy thing that the daemon-bird is. The black-horned Shaggoth did not say a word, for it was the Foul Storm that commanded the charge and he led it.

Based on - 

[modelmods-blog]

Path to Glory day!

So yesterday our group met up for the second time to have our Path to Glory armies clash at Warhammer World; this time a grand mash-up using Triumph and Treachery.

It. Was. Awesome!

For anyone who doesnt know Triumph and Treachery, its a way of playing multiplayer AoS where players generate treachery points to spend on the equivalent of 40k stratagems. You can use them to do things like: halve an opponents charge roll, force someone to choose a different opponent for the phase, or stop an enemies War Machine from firing.

Players can also bribe their opponents to attack eachother, or not do certain things by offering them accumulated victory points.

Lots of shenanigans :D

Here's my force for the day, ive added a warp lightning cannon and a Skaven assassin. Both of which im very proud of, but the assassin spent the entire game hidden and has yet to make his true debut.

The Stormcast player asked the group if he could change to Seraphon, his reasoning that his force felt a little OP and he wasnt having fun. No one had a problem with this so the participants currently stand as:

Skaven, Seraphon, Kharadron, Daughters of Khaine, Gut Busters, and Brayherd.

The Kharadron frigate had a pretty bad day, with various players using the Sabotage ability to stop it from firing and dealing it Mortal wounds. However the player got his own back somewhat by decimating the Brayherd Gors.

The Daughters, the Gutbusters, and the Seraphon had a large bust up on the left flank, mainly caused by the Ogors player picking a fight with both the other armies simultaneously. Needless to say the Gutbusters didnt make it, but managed to effectively neuter the Daughters force. Those Hags and Witches are SO pretty though.

Meanwhile I carefully manipulated the players to the left and right of me with offers of alliance and bribes in a super Skaven-like attempt to avoid combat and ran for the objective in the middle of the board.

Eventually the Kharadron finished with the Brayherd and I came to blows with the flying Duradin (dwarves). But I managed to make it to the middle and grab the objective and hold it for all of one turn before getting shot off of it.

I would have won as well! Since no one held the objective, I had the closest models and had accepted bribes of victory points earlier so I was in the lead. The Seraphon Carnosaur failed his last minute charge and I ended up closest, so in a last ditch attempt the Seraphon player gave all his points to the Daughters of Khaine to stop me from winning! In all fairness if he HAD made the charge I was going to do the same to stop him from winning, so we were all happy with the result.

Moment of the match for me had to be shooting the Stormfiends Ratling Cannons into the last remaining Kharadron balloon boy, rolling 17 shots from one gun, only 4 wounds made it through and the Kharadron player sarcastically saying 'four 5-ups, I can do that' and proceeding to roll exactly four 5's! The balloon boy lived. The level of shock and awe was hilarious.