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Made in gb
Decrepit Dakkanaut




UK

So I figured that I'm not alone in that behind the logical mathematics and visual choice of what army to collect and what models to field there is some semblance of narrative woven into the army. That puts flesh on the bone as it were and gives your army its own flavour and style. It might be just a few light thoughts here and there; details on a few units or heroes or be an extensive deep re-writing of the core of the army faction!

Course locked in ones head or collecting dust in the corners of a blog is no good, so I figured make a thread on it and people can share and update their army rosters and stories as they go!
Not limited to any range or army or whatever - so 40K, 30K, Warhammer, Sigmar, Starwars, Kingdom Death - whatever tell your story or stories!




My own Daughters of Khaine

Blood Hounds - Gryph hounds are loyal creatures of the celestial who by choice of their own come down from those high cities to the mortal realms to fight alongside their Stormcast allies. Strong and fleet of claw and sharp of hearing and seeing they dart here and there at the the heels of the Stormcast; either hugging close to give warning on any who might try to delude and sneak up upon them; or charging forward in a pack to tear and claw at those who would stand against them.

Some, however, appear to have chosen others to run with, though how a pack wound itself into the dark and shadowy embrace of the Daughters of Khaine is unknown. Some have thought that perhaps they were saved from a loss, when their Stormcast masters were struck down in battle and even the Daughters in alliance were forced to flee. Others, in hushed whispers, speak of how Witches are known to kill even their allies in challenges of battle prowess when on the battlefield; thus that when the hounds had charged into the fry, their Stormcast allies were struck down in secret by the Witches.

However it came to be these Gryph Hounds are no normal hounds. As agile, strong and loyal as any other the most striking difference is how they fight in combat. A touch more aloof from their newer Khanite allies, they strike out alone into the battlefield. Their beaks and razor sharp claws tearing and rending at the enemy. Yet not in mindless animal ferocity, instead they carve and slice with the same delicate almost dancing skill of the Witches that soon surround and join them in the battle. So much so that when their enemies are down the Gryphs have been seen to pluck the hearts from the fallen; consuming them whole or bearing them in offering to a Witch Aelf. Indeed within this temple it is considered quite the honour to be gifted a Hounds Heart from battle. But not all enemies earn that reward; in the throws of battle the hounds are as apt to throw themselves at the enemy; impaling them upon the chest spikes that punch through plate, mail and skin to stab the live beating heart within.

Spoiler:
Snapbeak's Betrayl
She was leader of a pack who had endured many a brutal battle against those who would stand against the Stormcast. Who selflessly led her pack and her own young to war and into the very heart of the maelstrom of blades, blood and gore. To tear out the throats of orks, to slash at the chests of men and to open the bellies of chaos warp spawn.
She, nor her pack, never showed any fear nor hesitation in battle. Always swift to move at their own intuition or at the command of their Lord-Castellant. To fight and die alongside their allies.

Yet over the years something in her started to change and thought started to worry itself at the edge of her mind.

She stood upon a vantage point next to her Lord Castellant and watched as a portion of her pack and Stormcast rallied and charged into the oncoming hoard of Chaos beasts. A mind twisting menagerie of Khorne and Tzeentch beasts that twisted reality around them with blue flame and sliced through armour and hide alike with long brutal blades. Those charging seeking to lay their lives down to protect the baggage train that followed the bulk of the army they were supporting. A valiant effort; a noble death; a waste of life. At that moment that worrying thought started to fill her mind...

Here was her pack, her people, her kind dying for the Stormcast. Laying down their lives to protect the world from Chaos. Yet the Stormcast were not paying the same price in life. Though their bodies are torn and burned; disembowelled and decapitated just as her hounds were, they had nothing to fear. Even the Lord beside her would one day perish in battle once more and yet return to her side reborn, reforged. They were not sacrificing themselves; they were not laying down their lives and their bodies; they were laying down just metal and flesh. A pause in their life; an inconvenience. They would return, they would be alive again on the morrow to continue the fight and to live their lives, whilst her hounds would be laying there still on the battlefield; their bodies picked over by crows and burrowed into by worms.

Her mind numb to the noise of war, her voice silent. Ignoring the cries of her Lord to call more of her back to the defence. Her first hesitation letting those Chaos start to turn the tide. Her hatred of the Chaos for a moment stilled as she glanced up with a fury at her so called ally.


It was within that moment that a new voice arose in the din of battle; a screaming high pitched cry of pleasure and joy and fury all mingled together into a furious choir. The scream enough to break her moment of hate and clouded judgement; drawing her head down to peer at those joining the fray. Witch Aelves from the rearguard had pushed forward and were now sprinting toward the failing flank. Blades flashing and bodies dancing as they leapt over hound and Stormcast and into the body of writhing Chaos. Though they danced and twirled; though they parried blades and claws and beaks many fell. Their bodies hardly covered with cloth let alone armour to protect them. Yet witch after witch threw herself into the battle without pause or concern for their own safety; all that could be told of them was the fury and joy of their cry and the flash of their blades. There was real sacrifice; there was real hate and desire to give ones self fully to the war against Chaos. There was a wild almost bestial brutality of battle; of bodies twisting and bending to avoid the blade; only to bite back hard with a flash of steel.


Such was the sudden fury of the aelves that the Chaos raid was broken; their muddled mess of ranks shattered and their bodies breaking into nothing. The battle was over, though her Lord would stand no longer at her side. When the Aelves returned from their bloody fight and began to sacrifice those hearts that they had harvested from the field to the Cauldron that accompanied them within the allied force there were others who followed them. Sharpbeak leading her pack advanced upon the Witches and laid upon the palms of the Hag Queen who led them her own offering of a bloody heart. From whence it came no witched cared to ask, not would even expect an answer from a Hound, though the message from her and her pack was clear in the giving.
It was said though that her former Lord was not seen within the army after that battle and that, when he was reforged and returned he would never say anything of Sharpbeak nor her pack, nor of how he managed to fall when he was so far from the front. The only thing to be marked was that he never again trusted a gryph hound by his side.



Khinerai Assassin. The Shadowblade order that has continued to operate to preserve the world from the infection of chaos has sometimes had cause to send agents into the shadow realms. To infiltrate those dark and bloody temples of the Witches to see what secrets might be held within. Of those assassins few if none return from these missions. What kills them in the dark is unknown; what madness or monsters the Witches keep secret are theirs and theirs alone to know.

However from those dead have arisen the Witches answer to the Shadowblades. Their own assassins, trained in many of the dark and deadly arts of the shadowblades, yet also possessed of one singular advantage. The wings gifted to them from birth and creation by the High Oracle Morathi and which define the harpies of the witches, the Khinerai. Only a few train as the assassins of their people; deadly and fast fighters who excel at twisting the shadows around them; pulling not spears from the ether like their sisters, but sharp daggers - some blessed with such darkness that their very touch will whither and decay flesh.*



Khinerai Darkwings. Sometimes from the bloody pools of creation there are those khinerai who rise slower from the depths. Those who seem to struggle, to thrash and might even cry out as they ascend to the surface. Weighted down with a heavy burden from birth that can so easily kill them before they can mature. Wings formed not of membrane stretched over thin fingers; but thick full feathers of dark like the shadows. These thick wings would carry any who are not strong enough to their death before their true birth. Yet there are those who struggle and survive; who pull themselves up and free.

Of these rare Khinerai many rise to the highest ranks within the flocks. Their bodies that bit tougher, their minds that bit sharper, their wings thicker, fuller and faster on the currents in the air. Perhaps its because they are different that they find they must train all the harder to excel and rise to their expected status; perhaps the wings show that their bodies are a little better, more developed, than that of their sisters; perhaps feather instead of membrane hints at a more natural winged aelf than purely the twisting of chaos**.

In battle they stand out as the leaders of flights as they swoop down from the skies; guiding their sisters into the heart of battle to deliver a swift blade or spear to where it is needed to tip the battle for the witches below.



*I fully realise that the established lore would more strongly suggest that if Daughters had assassins they'd be more likely to be Melusai than Khinerai.

**Some might say that perhaps its the cunning tricks of Tzeentch showing through the chaos corruption; however such fools as those to air such thoughts quickly find themselves impaled upon the spear or arrow of one of Morathi's own Melusai

A Blog in Miniature

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Powerful Phoenix Lord





I'm with you with regard to lore. When possible, I name every unit in my armies, and I use the lore to dictate how and what I buy and subsequently use. The downside is that my lore/backstory occasionally punishes me as far as competitiveness goes, but that's essentially the point. That's where I let reality intrude into my science fiction and fantasy.

Eldar: Yderis Craftworld

(Cliff's Notes, work in progress) Yderis are my custom Craftworld, though I'm using that term loosely. The Yderis lost/abandoned their Craftworld several thousand years ago when it was caught on the edge of a warp storm. Fleeing in a fleet of ships, the remnants of the Yderis Eldar have settled a few abandoned worlds on the fringe of Imperium space, and they're always on the mission of finding/recovering their Craftworld. It's a weak story...needs a lot of work. One of my current 40K campaigns provide the Yderis' goal as recovering webway gates which connect to the webway nearest the abandoned Craftworld (maybe?)

(Chaos Space Marines: Renegades) The Wandering Sons

(Cliff's Notes, work in progress). The Wandering Sons are my Renegade Space Marines and have a much healthier back story. Originally the 'Star Wardens' Chapter (wip name), the chapter was involved in the Abyssal Crusade, wrongly (?) accused of Chaos taint and sent on a penetence crusade to the Eye of Terror. After partaking in numerous battles, the Wandering Sons were stranded in a warp storm. Being a post-Heresy chapter, a handful of marines were still carrying out the 'lodge' practice of previous legions. Half of the chapter negotiated with Chaos to allow them to escape the warp storm. This faction was led by Malavyn Saal, chief apothecary fo the Star Wardens. His caste-brother, Khyrum Saal is the current chapter master. The chapter renamed itself the Wandering Sons as they turned back against the Imperium which cast them out, though only half are dedicated to Chaos while the other half is...begrudgingly accepting of it. No one knows why Khryum Saal is left alive...it's all work in progress. This backstory means I play Renegades legion trait and the side which fell to Chaos fell to Nurgle and paints their armour as an homage to the classic Death Guard scheme --- so only <Nurgle> is allowed and I don't use any Berzerkers, Noise Marines, and very few daemons, etc.
   
 
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