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 Introduce Your Beastlord
Posted: Mar 23 2008, 07:24 PM


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I've got two characters at the moment. I haven't got a backstory for my shamat yet, but maybe i'll make up and post one when i'm done with converting him.

Bragor of the Evil Gaze

Bragor was originally destined to be a shaman. He was years under the teachings of an elder bray-shaman, Rasdack, but unlike other disciples, Bragor was inpatient and unrulry. It was due to his nature perhaps, that he decided to defy destiny itself, slaying his master. In this frenzy, Bragor hooved his way to the herdlord, striking him down and assuming the command of the herd. Such blasphemy would have normally cost a beastman his life and essence, but perhaps the gods saw what a visionary Bragor was.

The new beastlord soon made fundamental changes in the structure of the herd, as well as in their general battling style. This angered many seasoned fighters of the tribe, but Bragor made it clear that he would obliterate all and any that would defy him. Many examples petrified a firm respect and fear for the beastlord in the tribe.

After a raid on a fairly large city, Bragor started recieving visions. They were crypted and little did Bragor understand of them, but with the help of the tribe's shaman, their main structure was understood. One of these visions led to the abandonment of the nomadic ways of the tribe, as Bragor slew the minotaur guardian of a herdstone and took it as a permanent base.

Though Bragor is but little more than an intelligent beastlord with a tendency to magic, his figure has been very stronlgy mystified into the minds of fellow beastmen and imperial citizens alike. It is said, that no battle can be won against a herd supervized by Bragor. It is very far from the truth, or course, but the beastlord has no intentions on debunking it, as it has spawned him a great reputation and a great title.

Gothgur, the standard bearer

Gothgur was amongst those, who dared to defy the new beastlord, Bragor. One night, in the middle of a raid, Gothgur challenged Bragor for the herd's leadership. The battle was ferocious, and lasted long, even continuing after the raid itself had ended. Bragor emerged victorious, but instead of Gothgur, Bragor killed his standard beared, and offered the wounded Gothgur to bear the standard. In Bragor's hierarchy, this was considered as a great honour.
Gothgur holds a great respect for the beastlord Bragor, and has abandoned his usurping plans since the incident. Instead, Gotghur has even become an enforcer for Bragor's word.

However, absolute loyalty would be against the nature of beastmen, and Gothgur knows well that he will inherit the beastlord's crown once he has been slain in battle. Thus, Gothgur tends to leave Bragor to fight alone, even when the lord requires assitance.

This post has been edited by Bragor on Mar 23 2008, 07:25 PM

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Lord of daemons
Posted: Mar 24 2008, 07:15 PM


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Gortha, the Warrior of the Gods

Gortha true birth place is unknown. He was found in the middle of the Drakwald forest by a herd of centigor. The centigor raised him and taught him many ways of fighting. He could wield nearly any weapon and could duel over twenty centigor at a time.
In just a few years his guardians bowed down to him. He led them on his first raid on an Empire farmstead. The farm was left as just rubble. He ordered his centigor family to make him an axe out of the ruins of the farm. They gave him a mighty great axe with a checker board pattern painted on it. He swore the axe would be the only one hed use.
He decided he would leave his cenigor kin and travel to a herdstone to test himself. At the herdstone he dueled the great doombull Kargoroth and defeated him. Now even minotaur bow before him. His army is often found with his minotaur and centigor.
As he continued his successful raids the eye of Khorne grew watchful, and after his successful attack on an Empire town he was granted with the power of Khorne. He used this power well and has even been seen commanding Chaos Knights and daemons into battle. As he conquered more and more the other gods began to watch him. Tzeentch, Slaanesh, and Nurgle sent hundreds of daemons to fight Gortha, but even they were no match for him. In return for this awsome feat the gods granted him their power as well. Many fear his powerful attacks using the gifts of all four gods. All eyes watch their back for the mighty checker board axe and its wielder.
Gharnarkh Foehorn
Posted: Aug 16 2008, 05:08 PM


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Gharnarkh Foehorn

Gharnarkh started out his life as nothing more then a gor grunt, but through sheer ferocity he rose through the ranks until he was second to only his commanding Beastlord Khargarh. After a failed ambush on an empire caravan left his tribe broken and leaderless, do to the death of their beastlord at the hands of some very angry (and hungry) ogre mercenaries, his troup seemed all but lost. Not wanting such a pathetic fate as this to befal himself or his tribe Gharnarkh took on the mantel of leader of the aplie renamed "Bloody Horn Tribe"

Soon his tribe was prosperous, many towns fell to his clever raids and ambushes. But when they attacked a village that had employed the same ogre mercenaries that had defeated his tribe in the first place. Knowing this filled him with such excitment to do battle with the powerful ogres Gharnarkh stood on the great hill outside of the town and issued a challange two the leader of the mercenaries. A monsterous ogre bull answered his challange. The to did battle on into the night, beastmen on one side, and ogres on the other all watching the fight with excitment. The ogre finnaly gained the upper hand when he grabbed the wargor and attempted to bearhug the life out of him. Gharnarkh, fighting for his life slammed his horns over and over into the ogres face until there was nothing left but a bloody crater. Gharnarkh said that the other ogres could live if they joined him. Now with his new ogre allies the Bloody Horn tribe is all but unstoppable, with ogre and gor muscle, and their clever savage leader given the name by his followers "Gharnarkh Foehorn."

Enjoy biggrin.gif

This post has been edited by Gharnarkh Foehorn on Aug 16 2008, 05:10 PM
Posted: Sep 18 2008, 06:54 PM

Foe Render

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Bennu Sparkfeather

Bennu started life as the exquisite Lady Abbas; a powerful Mystic from the sands of Araby. She heard tales of an untouchable power held on the Sorcerer's Islands and knew that for her to truly become a force in this world she would have to gain this power for herself. She and her followers traveled to the Isles in search for the Source of the power there but was met by resistance; the locals told tales about the "flame of corruption" that consumed all who came close. Only one lone child offered help to the Lady, giving her a phrase that wold allow her and all who followed to pass through the flames and to the core of mysticism.
Lady Abbas and her followers made their way to the shifting lands at the center of the Sorcerer's magicly infused islands, the multi-coloured flames covered a massive area and were so bright that the sky itself reflected their light.
Saying the phrase given to her Abbas passed through the flames, at first everything was fine but then she started to hear screams of her followers around her, massive waves of mutation moved through body and mind, irriversably changing them forever. When the Lady emerged she was no longer known as Abbas, but as Bennu the Sparkfeather; devoted follower of Tzeentch and all his mighty whims.
Bennu, flushed with power never felt before moved down to the settlement of humans that she had crossed before, intent on crushing them for their insulant refusal of aiding her. When she arrived though she noticed that the town was already under seige by a band of pirates and thieves. Taking advantage of the oppourtunity Bennu and her Flock decided to spare the humans of the settlement and destroyed the pirate forces instead. The townsfolk were shocked and humbled by the power they witnessed and lent themselves wholly to Bennu's wishes. From that moment the Sparkfeather and her Flock have taken a fickle attitude towards humanity and those around them, aiding or rampaging them as they saw fit.
Eventually though the need to expand power and create change across the world called her to her true destiny. Accompanied by her flock Bennu Sparkfeather made her way to the Old World where she would conquer all and Lord Tzeentch's flaming spirit would be made manifest across the world.

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Posted: Dec 23 2008, 10:02 AM


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Ahoy hoy! First post here; I've not played WHFB in a looooong time (not since my local area still had a GW store), and am looking to get back into it with a Beasts army.

So what better way to start (I thought), than with some fluff I've written about my start-up general (a Wargor).......

The Tayle of Khaarg Dark-hoof

In the land where the ground is scorched did I enter the world, a mewling newborn; she who bore me in her death-throes. As is our way, her I did consume...

....A caravan of smoothskin warriors did find me, sheltering from the light that burns; they did set about me with their weapons and pathetic curses. I was strong, but they were many; the Gods were testing my endurance. As my strength began to wane, The Great Bull appeared and together we slaughtered the smoothskins. That dark, as we did feast upon their flesh and sup on their blood; The Great Bull did mark my brow with The Star of The Gods; I was chosen....

....Much did He teach me; the lore of our kynde and the path of the Wargor chief amongst my lessons. Our journey did take us to a great and sacred stone; here He did present me to more of our kynde, and it was from beneath the Stone that I was granted my birthright.....

....Here I now stand; Khaarg Dark-hoof; Wargor of The Great Bull; leader of beast-kynde. Neither I, nor my great herde would fail Him. Nor would I fail the Gods by whom I was chosen.

- excerpts from a translation of a Beastman herd stone by Walther Koenig; Imperial Scholar, who was subsequently hung by an angry mob on the streets of Altdorf, shortly after his writings were publish.


This post has been edited by TheGreyBull on Dec 23 2008, 10:02 AM
Posted: Apr 15 2009, 09:27 PM


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i dont have a big enough army for lords q: but heres the fluff of my 2 heros

Ghaarl - chosen of nurgle

He is beleived to be as old as the birth of the beastmen. This is untrue but he is old, hundreds of years old. As a youngling he was just another gor, fighting for his tribe's wargor. As he grew older he became obsessed with his own death. He wore the thickest armour, the largest sheilds much to the discontent of the wargor. No one should have more protection than the the wargor so he challenged him then and there. Blow after blow landed on Ghaarl but none cracked his armour. The wargor was tired fter fighting with all his might for so long and began to loose concentration. This was when Ghaarly fought back. With a mighty swing of his mace, he knocked the head of the wargor off and yelled.
As he grew older still, he knew death was coming. He turned to shamans for help but the herbs and roots given to him had no effect. He asked what else he could do but he got no answer. One told him of nurgle, the God would grant him everlasting life and he took it. Now he lives on.

so far i have no fluff for Khrun - chosen of khorne but will post soon, not like any1 will see cause this place is like a ghost website q:
Posted: Dec 16 2009, 02:27 PM

Lord of the Permafrost

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Arkhan the Cold Heart
The Beastmen of the Shadow hunters are indeed very infamous in Averland, the Black Depths and Black Fire pass, and then especially their leader, the beastlord Arkhan. A beastman with a heart cold as ice, his huge axe Azydhaos (The Dark Tongue: Ice Daemon) are cursed with strange magic and it's aura can make his foes unable to move. Since he became the leader, Black fire Pass has became much less safe to walk upon, and therefore many Averlander and Border Prince salesmen has placed bounties on his head.
He is famous for slaying plenty of dwarfs, like the Dragonslayer Erik Redbeard who were bound by ice and crushed in a matter of seconds; a not very honourable death as he had no knowledge about who killed him. It is also spoken of that there could be a connection between Arkhan and the liche Arkhan the Black, one of Nagash' greatest generals. Could that be the source of his freezing weapon?

This post has been edited by Saintspirit on Apr 26 2011, 12:34 PM

QUOTE (Silver)

Saintspirit's Shadow Hunter Painting Blog
(\ _ /)
(='.'=) This is Bunny. Copy and paste bunny
(")_(") to help him gain world domination
Posted: Sep 17 2010, 04:55 AM


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It had been a good day. The swede harvest was progressing well, the leeks had started sprouting and the first of the lambs were taking their drunken, sideways steps with gusto. As the sun worked its way below the hills Gerard Mountillineu was bent over in the mud helping an ewe with the last of the day's lambings. As awkward as this lambing was, he was glad she was giving birth. His son, Bentieux, had lost her earlier in the winter while driving them in from an icy squall and the family had all thought her gone. However, here she was now, seemingly out of thin air, giving birth to one of the biggest lambs he'd ever seen. With a final mew the scrawny animal slid to the ground, limbs akimbo, shivering for a moment before the mother started cleaning. Gerard had faith she'd take good care of the lamb, she was the most experienced ewe in the flock and had raised several award winning rams. This lamb had all the marks of another, and Gerard smiled. It had been a good day.

Bentieux stretched and grinned, the farm girl next to him giggling. The summer sun had made the barn warm, almost to warm, and the straw was tickling his arms, but he didn't mind. He laughed and rolled in for more.
They both froze solid. Bentieux slowly peered over the edges of the hay to the door, half expecting ribbing and half expecting lashings. Something was in the door way, blocking the sun streaming in. Not quite large enough to be his father, he didn't think. Francis? His mother was starting to hunch in her old age, it might be her. He gulped.
He grinned wide, it was just the prize lamb. It was shaping up to be the biggest ram in the region and was sure to win prizes and be studded out for a fortune, but for now it seemed to have a wicked sense of humour. Always butting in at just the right time.
He rolled back into the hay, still grinning.

As the orchard slowly faded to orange, the sun was setting in each tree, Francis helped Mollei collect wind fallen apples. Her daughter had just turned eight, and was a humongous help around the farm with her father off at war. Baron's orders. Francis sighed, reaching down for another apple as her back creaked.
Suddenly she froze. A shadow blocked the sun and a crunch echoed loud in her ear. She looked up to see the prize lamb, no, it was more a ram now, standing next to her munching on windfall. It eyed her oddly while it worked through the fallen fruit.
She shivered slightly, the ram unnerving her. The ram had grown solidly and was now bigger than any of the other stud rams around, and less than a year old! Horns too, but not curled like the other's. Long and wicked, like little scythe blades. And that central horn, like some perverse unicorn out of the fables. She didn't know what to do with it, hoping for her husband's return. Should they keep it? It would surely breed excellent mutton. But still. It was... unsettling.
She snapped back to attention as Mollei dropped the basket.
"Careful, my girl, they're bruised enough!"

His shoulder ached, the chain maille he'd worn for nearly four months had left its mark. He was glad to be rid of it, and the cold wind numbed the pain. Mid winter, how long had he been away? Months. Gerard grimaced. How had the autumn harvest gone? Onward he plodded, halberd haft dragging in the snow. Home wasn't far off.
Through a break in the trees he could see smoke rising from towards home, and he slipped into a half dream of holding his daughter, his wife. The smell of freshly baked pie. A warm bed! Such bliss. He picked up his pace.
As he turned onto the last stretch to his house he realised the smoke didn't seem right. It was thicker... there was more of it then there should have been. It was like the pyres he'd seen, the burning villages... He ran.
The house was burning solidly now, flames leaping to the sky. Behind it the barn collapsed, the crash juddering in his bones. Where were his family? What had happened? After all the war in the months past, this here, now.. He focused and ran harder towards the roaring orange. His shoulders screamed.
As he approached the gateway a figure stepped out from behind the house, but there was too much smoke to see. Bentieux? Surely. 'My, he must have grown' he thought, elated that his family might be alive. As the figure cleared the smoke he stopped, gripping the haft of his weapon. It was.. enormous. Standing on its rear legs, on hooves, clutching two axes in its hands. Giant, wicked horns sprouted from behind its eyes, with a short, broken horn from atop its muzzle. White fur, almost wool, flowed from its hide and steam spouted from its nostrils. It reared its head back and brayed, a deep, haunting sound that made him flinch. Then it charged.
Posted: Oct 8 2010, 03:46 PM


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My Beastlord never made much of an appearance during 7th, the only character I'd take would be a caddy Bray Shaman and since 8th came along this has only changed in so much as he's been promoted a few magic levels to be a Great Bray so here he is:

Urrok Banetongue

Heralding from the northern fringes of the Drakwald Forest Urrok was a simple Gor, born and raised in the filth and eternal conflict of the herds. During one of the Elector's purges the herd was caught unaware as they rested after a night of debauched celebrating and feasting to mark their succesful raid against a small village of the humans. Urrok was thought dispatched after a knight's mace had smashed his shoulder and flung him to the dirt during their initial onslaught and as the fighting had continued, moving further into the herd's unhallowed stamping ground he had taken the opportunity of the humans own impetuousness to crawl painfully into the welcoming embrace of the forest.

The injury festered and brought on a fever madness into the Gor and his pain wracked mind called out to the shadowy gods that the tribes shaman had so often spoken of for a chance to seek vengeance. It was during the fever he experienced a true vision and a formless voice spoke to him, telling him to foreswear his lust for vengeance against these particular humans and take up a new mission in the dark gods names and follow their goals to take revenge against the whole of humanity. Urrok swiftly agreed and when the fever broke he found his skin drained of colour, as pale as the moon in a cloudless sky and that he could call on the powers of the shaman, summoning magic to help him recover from his weakened condition.
Posted: Dec 9 2010, 11:37 PM


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If you're interested, there is some outline background for my Doombull Yarash Goreblade in my army diary...

Posted: Apr 26 2011, 12:11 PM


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This is what little I have so far, I will try to update this as soon as possible

Urghost is the WarStag of the Steer Warherd that dwells in the forest on the fringe of north east of Empire.

It is unknown how long he has been in power amongst this tribe or how long this warherd has been in power in these forest ranges.

What is known is that the sightings of this warherd have waxed and waned with the sightings of the legendary White Stagg.

Whether they come to protect this being or something more sinister is at foot is presently unknown to all but the herd themselves.

Urghost is known to value speed over strength and craft and cunning over ferocity and power.

This post has been edited by T.M.M on Apr 26 2011, 12:59 PM

Not in the Mood?
Mood is a thing for cattle and women young pup, Mood is not for fighting.

-Gurney Halleck
-Dune Remake
The Charioteer
Posted: Jul 16 2011, 08:57 AM

Funny man

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My lord is Thorgor the steady, by grace of the dark gods, leader of the Thorgor tribes, scourge of Stirland, supreme leader of hunger wood, head of the beastman Mormon movement and blackboard monitor.

He came to power when he got into a heated discussion with the tribes former leader (monmot the fool) as to what the hell they were doing in a forest full of crypt ghouls who keep killing of the local mino population with poisoned attacks.
Eventually he decided that he would stay, because minos are ugly.

The bearer of his standard is lorgor the shadowed. He has this peculiar title because he doesn't carry the standard, it follows him about but no one ever sees it move

(this is because I glued the banner to his base and not the model. biggrin.gif

This post has been edited by The Charioteer on Jul 5 2014, 04:06 AM

You are guilty! The punishment is death for all who live.

a-hahahahahahaha. Here is a fact, my left nipple was once burned off and regrew. So I have Wolverine's regen powers,.. but only proven effective so far on my left nipple.

6+ Regen is better than no Regen, pop

Popisdead and Rothgar on having Regen
Posted: Aug 19 2011, 05:34 AM


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I say we keep this fluff machine alive.

In the forests east of Praag there remains a sign-post at the beginning of a dilapidated road. The sign reads, in broken, painted letters faded by the elements, "There be monsters here". Further down the old road, overgrown by shoots of trees and undergrowth, a small brook runs through a gorge. This could be any stream in any land save the littering of rusted armor and long dulled weaponry strewn about the banks.

Many seasons have passed since these metal shells and claws have belonged to any living human. The tale goes that a Kislevite hunting party of four-score men set out to eradicate the yearly growth of beasts. A culling of Chaotic life in other, pragmatic, words. As for each year since Man had started this game of sport, the warped beast-like men, if they may be so entitled for that comparison, came to ply their defense. Shot poured into the trees to the rhythmic sound of drums manned by drummer boys. Arrows were let loose into the flesh of every cloven animal. Blood poured from all unholy thing.

As the soldiers rounded into the stream, into the gorge, dust began to fall on them. It was light and soft at first. Pebbles began to drop from high off the cliffs with clinks resounding quietly off the men's helmets. It would take more than pebbles to scare off the hardy men of Kislev. No one really knows what started the landslide.

The only survivor, Helmut Gottlieb of the Royal Praag Guard, a drummer boy, recounted that he saw a brown shape leap from cliff to cliff over the gorge before the disaster, white hair gleaming in the early orange light of dawn. The boy knew this because the creature that matched that description was the last thing he would ever see, his eyes pulled from their sockets by that demon after the detachment of men was routed down the river. Every man, the young boy said, was cut down by the beasts. Horrid screams accompanying the laughter and braying of the children of Chaos echoed throughout the forest. The only name that is known is what young Helmut has christened the the apparent leader of the slaughterers and, in his mind, the architect of the landslide, Valstock Gorge-runner. "The wailing of the beasts-- Valstock! Valstock! Valstock! I shall not forget that," he said to me shortly before he was sent to Morr by Sigmar's Blessing.

We shall watch for this Valstock Gorge-runner, my dear friend, and kill him when time bids it necessary.

May Sigmar keep you,

Fr. Johann the Compassionate

The gods always answer prayers but it takes a wise man to understand when the answer is "No"

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Posted: Nov 9 2011, 10:02 PM


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Shadowbrand the Slayer was not always known by the title he was bestowed in Ostland.

The young Beastling grew up in a humble enough fashion. Having been born into a small herd that made it's home along the Sea of Claws.

One day a much larger herd slew the herd, and kept the youth as loot, to grow up to be more warriors to fight in the crusade against mankind.

Vengeance brewed in the heart of the Gor like a Dwarf brewing dark-ale. The new herd raided the countryside burning the churches of Sigmar and making a mountain of skulls one for men, women and children.

As a Imperial fort laid in ruin. Shadowbrand, challenged the Wargor to honorable combat. The Slayer took his head and hung it across his personal battle standard.

Seasons passed and the Hordes of Chaos had amassed in great numbers. A mortal man upon a steed of brass and rage beckoned the Wargor to lead his herd in battle against the Empire.

And so the legionnaires of Chaos stormed the country side. But eventually the State Troops and Knightly Order's were beckoned to bring battle to the Heretic Horde.

And so it was that the forces of Order held off the tide. The great lord of Khorne struck down by a arrow to the throat. As the line broke.

Across a small bridge leading to the city stood the might Wargor. A icon to the lord of skulls hung across his neck twin cleavers of steel. As the horde fled into the woods. Shadowbrand stood slaying the State troops one at a time as they entered the bridge.

The battle was a stalemate. The forces of Order hid in the keep. As the forces of disorder laid in their namesake.

And so he was known as the Slayer.
Posted: Dec 7 2011, 03:31 AM


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Ruhkhar, Transmuted of Tzeentch

Ruhkhar is a gnarled and old Great Bray Shaman. His herd had been at the siege of Praag with Asavar Kul, and Ruhkhar had been there when Chaos' victory was ultimately denied. But rather than withdrawing, Ruhkhar pushed onward, finding sanctuary in the ill-defended forests of Nordland. However, as the Empire recouped from the devastating losses of the Great War, Ruhkhar's herd began to suffer. With no strong Beastlord to lead the herd, and with attacks from the Empire becoming more and more frequent, Ruhkhar had no choice but to cry out to the Great Four. Of the four, only Tzeentch would hear his pleas. Tzeentch offered Ruhkhar a pact, his blessings for the soul of a Champion of Nurgle. As Ruhkhar found and slew the champion in T'Char's name, a wave of power from the north descended upon the herd. The Beastmen, already warped by the powers of Chaos, were wracked with convulsions, as the Great Changer imbued them with his gift. Ruhkhar's powers intensified, and his mastery over the winds of magic grew strong. To his followers came the gift of mutation, and many of the already warped Beasts grew extra limbs or heads. Finally, the Herdstone which the herd called sacred shook violently. The Herdstone shattered, and in its place was left a crystalline monolith.

Now, Ruhkhar's herd has become strong, his followers invigorated with the gift of Chaos. Gors and Bestigors flock to his banner every day, and even the Mortal and Daemonic champions of Tzeentch honor him with alliances. However, Ruhkhar's mind is ever focused on his master's will, for though Ruhkhar may not know, he has become another pawn in the Schemer's Game.
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