Explore the Mortal Realms

As Chaos tightens its grip across the Mortal Realms and bloodshed causes the rivers to run red, Khorne’s vengeful battle-lust swells. The Blood God’s marauding forces delight in the most gruesome acts of violence and are rewarded for piling high the entrails and bones of their enemies in mountainous offerings of gore.

From deep within infinite crystal corridors, Tzeentch toys with the paths of fate. His followers lurk in plain sight across the realms, using magic and subterfuge to slit reality at the seams. The shimmering hordes of the Changer of the Ways delight in the madness of the unknown – and they will shatter civilisation itself to achieve it.

The Hedonites of Slaanesh cut a path of orgiastic violence across the realms, their carnivals ringing with agonised screams and silvered peals of laughter. These sadistic servants are in constant pursuit of ultimate sensation, whether through mind-boggling feasts, pure carnality, or the riotous spectacle of battle.

The Maggotkin of Nurgle shamble from foetid wastes with drones and gurgles, blessed with the unholy bloat of their patron. Wherever they go, diseases spread uncontrollably, and entire armies are infected with Nurgle’s generous gifts. They are entropy personified, as their patient god knows that all life must eventually decay.

For centuries, the perfidious ratmen known as the Skaven scurried beneath the earth like an infection under the skin, rising to bombard their foes with hideous mutants and machines alike. Now they are erupting across the realms in explosive boils of corruption, their centuries of scheming and plotting finally bearing fruit.

Far beyond Sigmar’s gleaming bastions march the Slaves to Darkness, shadowy hosts of barbarians and executioners hell-bent on tearing down all semblance of civilisation. Many hold a special hatred in their hearts for their fellow mortals, having been abandoned by their kin in an age long past.

Knights of valour, shining heroes and the last bastions of hope in the dark – that is how the hideous ghouls of the Flesh-eater Courts see themselves. In reality, they are little more than gibbering monsters that feast on the flesh of the living, spreading their vampiric masters’ curse of madness across the realms every time they sally forth.

Shrieking and swirling from the grave, the spectral Nighthaunt bear Nagash’s malice. Punished for their crimes in life with eternal servitude to the Great Necromancer, their bitterness fuels them to fight without end. Only through terrorising and slaughtering the living can they find any flicker of satisfaction.

As the Great Necromancer’s most elite soldiers, the Ossiarch Bonereapers march upon the realms to carry out his eternal mission of conquest. Their strategy, both on and off the battlefield, is dictated by dispassionate logic, leaving subjugated settlements alive but forcing their citizens to submit tithes of bone or face annihilation.

The Soulblight aristocracy rule their kingdoms in a dark mirror of mortal nobility. Their castles are decorated with fountains of blood and their armies are formed solely of lifeless revenants. Their vanity and accrued luxury barely mask the monsters that simmer below the surface, consumed by eternal vampiric thirst.

Skulking below the surface of the realms are the hordes of Gloomspite Gitz. Bug-eyed and hideous with personalities to match, the grots of these troglodytic tribes exist in near-infinite numbers, ambushing targets only when they are assured the upper hand. With their troggoth allies lumbering amongst them, they infest the deepest, dankest corners of the realms. It is there that they scheme, waiting for the Bad Moon to rise…

Scouring the realms for meaty delicacies come the ogors, gouging circular paths of devastation as they gobble up anything and everything they can find. These gluttonous brutes are capable of incredible feats of consumption and can even draw supernatural energy from the sacred slops they create.

When the orruks are on the warpath, not even the greatest of Sigmar’s cities are safe. These green-skinned louts live and breathe fighting, are enormous in number, and brawl with a single-minded tenacity born of the simple desire to be the biggest and meanest warriors in the realms.

Each of Behemat’s children is a towering behemoth almost beyond mortal comprehension. Every step they take sends tremors through the earth, and walls crumble under their pounding fists. Even a small stomp of gargants can tear through entire towns, the titans delighting in the destruction they leave in their wake.