<div style="text-align: center"><b><u><span style="font-family:Sofia"><span style="font-size: 26px">Introduction to The Old World</span></span></u></b><br/>
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</div></div><br/>The Old World, a place of long struggle and great diversity. It's history stretches across several millennia from the Time of Dragons over 8000 years ago to the present day and the aftermath of the latest incursion from the North by the hordes of Archaon, the Everchosen. The Old World is made up of several different continents, varied landscapes and a multitude of inhabitants. What follows is a introduction to the lands of the Old World and it's inhabitants.<br/><br/><b><u>The Empire<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Of the Human nations of the Old World, the most important by far is that of the Empire of Man, more often called simply The Empire, forged by the warrior-king and ascended deity Sigmar, from the primitive Human tribes of barbarians who inhabited what became the lands of the southern Empire more than 2500 years ago. Although not as skilled in craftsmanship as the Dwarfs or in magic as the High Elves, the people of the Empire are not beholden by the limits of tradition to the same extent as the Dwarfs or High Elves and continue to progress culturally, technologically and magically. Having yet to succumb to any threat, external or internal, it is the faith, the sense of righteousness, and the unconquerable spirit of its citizens which gives the Empire its strength, as well as the ruthless efficiency of its military and religious orders.<br/>
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The greatest nation of the Old World, the Empire of Man is ruled by an Emperor and is composed of the descendants of the ancient tribes of Mankind united by the great Human warrior Sigmar Heldenhammer after the Battle of Black Fire Pass. Sigmar was deified after his death by his people and his promise of eternal aid from the Empire for the kingdoms of the Dwarfs still stands today. This action solidified the relationship between Men and Dwarfs and planted the seeds for the burgeoning Empire through trade between the two races. Today, the Empire is led by Emperor Karl Franz I, who rules from his court in the Imperial capital city of Altdorf.<br/>
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There are ten provincial states in the Empire, each ultimately ruled by an Elector Count who owes his or her power to the unifying figurehead and ultimate authority of the Emperor. It should be noted that the Empire is not truly a single, centralized nation-state, but instead a confederation of individual, feudal states united only by the common tongue of Reikspiel, a shared faith in Sigmar and a mutual Imperial culture. The Imperial states correspond roughly to the ancient tribal territories brought together by Sigmar when he united the tribes of Man beneath one crown to defeat the Greenskins of the Old World.<br/>
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The southern Imperial states - Averland, Reikland, Stirland, Talabecland and Wissenland - resemble a broad chalice, partially surrounded by near-impassable mountain ranges from which drain the mighty rivers which are the lifeblood of Imperial trade. To the west of these are the Grey Mountains, beyond which lies the Kingdom of Bretonnia and the Wood Elves' magical forest of Athel Loren. To the south are the inhospitable Black Mountains and to the east the Worlds Edge Mountains that mark the eastern extent of the Old World.<br/>
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To the north, the rolling hills and rapid streams of the south and east are gradually transformed into the forested lowlands and deep waterways that define the heart of the Empire. The vast forests that comprise the central and northern Imperial lands stretch almost unbroken across the countless leagues from the state of Reikland to the northern border with Kislev and the shore of the Sea of Claws. The Great Forest, Drakwald Forest and the Forest of Shadows are all essentially part of the same dark, untamed wilderness, with the green blanket of trees punctured only by the abrupt mountain range known as the Middle Mountains. These lands are divided into the northern Imperial states - Hochland, Ostermark, Ostland, Middenland and Nordland. The inhabitants of these northern states generally have to deal with much greater hardships and military threats than those of the more civilized south, being that much closer to the daemons, Beastmen and other dangers of the northern Chaos Wastes.<br/>
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The life of a citizen of the Empire of Man is a perilous one, for there are foes within every shadow and enemies around every corner. Secret Chaos Cults abound, or at the very least, there are rumours of them running rampant, as well as the legendary rat-men that some call the Skaven. No one is certain who is trustworthy, and fear and paranoia are omnipresent in the isolated settlements that dot the Empire's provinces outside of the major Imperial cities.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The County of Sylvania was once a former Imperial Province of the Empire of Man that had since begun its mutual decline as a Imperial State all-together, its territories having since been absorbed by the Grand County of Stirland. As far as most Empire folks are concerned, the county of Sylvania may as well be a different country all-together, a seeting backwater region where no sane or law-abiding Imperial citizen would willingly stray.<br/>
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Despite its proximity to the lands of the Moot and the Stronghold of Zhufbar, Halflings and Dwarfs are virtually nonexistent there. Technologically, the land lags behind the rest of the Empire in terms of proper infrastructure and even the barest levels of education, where the commonfolk of Sylvania are still a highly superstitious lot that is still treating gunpowder as a new frightening technological marvel. The emergent middle class of the Empire scarcely exists here, and an unbridgeable gap between the peasantry and the nobility persists, one that out shadows those within the lands of even Bretonnia. But perhaps the greatest feature about this backwater region of the Old World is that it is considered the rightful domains of the Vampire Counts of the Von Carstein bloodline.<br/>
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The lands of Sylvania is a land surrounded in mist and darkness. The very soil itself is highly infertile, with certain regions gradually being transformed into bogs, swamps and marshes, with the surrounding forest often harboring all manner of grotesque and horrifying creatures of the night. To the east, Sylvania is bordered by the towering Worlds Edge Mountains, but in the other directions, its borders are less well-defined. The line between Sylvania and Stirland to the west has been redrawn every time independence has been declared; it has ranged from the edge of the Haunted Hills to the abandoned village of Murieste, and it currently stretches from the ruins of Mordheim down to the edge of Bylorhof Marsh.<br/>
In the north, the River Stir provides a border with Ostermark. To the south Sylvania stops at a barren region historically claimed by Averland, but currently held by Stirland; however the haunted reputation of that place’s stinking marshes and fallow hills results in both Grand Provinces largely ignoring the area.<br/>
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The south-western corner of Sylvania edges onto Mootland, a narrow border that is steadfastly patrolled by Halfling Fieldwardens. The jagged shadows of the mountains stretch over this land of night, and cold winds blow down from the peaks. It is a land of harsh winters that paint the ground blindingly white. To go out after dark in such a winter is almost certain death, but to go out at night in a Sylvanian summer is little safer. Storms frequently come down off the mountains along with the winds and snows.<br/>
This makes for damp land with many bogs and lonely moors: Dark Moor, Grim Moor on the southern edge of the Grim Wood, the Bylorhof Marsh, Morrfenn, and the twisted Hel Fenn that witnessed the fall of Mannfred von Carstein. The Fennone people disposed of their dead in these bogs for hundreds of years, and many of the Von Carsteins’ Undead troops come from there. Though the unstable ground and threat of Undead makes them dangerous places, the Sylvanians are forced to visit them as they are the source of the peat that fertilises their fields and fuels their fires over the winter, and the area is also home to edible berries like the sweet cowberry.<br/>
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It is in Sylvania that the woods of the southern Empire become dense forests, shadowy places patrolled by packs of large, perpetually hungry wolves. In the northwest is Verhungern or Hunger Wood, where the canopy of trees is so tangled that a permanent night is created underneath them in which many strange fungi grow. In the northeast is Grim Wood, which is haunted by an unseen monster that takes only maidens who dare to tread there. To the south is Ghoul Wood, said to be ruled by one of the Strigoi who has thrown in his lot with the Von Carsteins and lent them the aid of the flesh-eaters. Bisecting the land is a string of chalk hills that make good sheep-herding country if nothing else, the Warten Downs in the northeast stretching down to the Haunted Hills in the west. Even when it isn’t chalk, most of the soil of Sylvania is a thin and useless stuff on which the people struggle to eke out a living.</div>
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</div><br/><b><u>Bretonnia<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Kingdom of Bretonnia is a highly-chivalrous feudal kingdom that lies between the lands of the Grey Mountains and the Great Ocean. Bretonnia is second only in size and military power to that of the Empire of Man, both their chief rival and closest allies, having a culture and society that revolves around the ideals of nobility, social birthright and the upholding of a strictly enforced code of chivalry. Ruled by a Royarch currently King Louen Leoncoeur, the nation of Bretonnia has been known throughout the Kingdoms of Man for having the greatest Knights within the entire Old World, rivaling or in some cases even surpassing that of the Knightly Orders of the Empire. A proud and honorable kingdom, the warriors of Bretonnia comprised mostly of Knights and Noblemen, who ride into battle with lance, horse, and sword, seeking out glories and rooting out injustice wherever they go.<br/>
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The religion that currently dominates this mighty feudal kingdom, is the worship of a local elemental deity known only as the Lady of the Lake. This mysterious Goddess of Purity, Light and Order is believed to have aided Gilles le Breton in unifying Bretonnia into a single unified nation, during a Greenskin invasion from the Southern Mountains in 978 IC. The Bretonnian calender is offset from the Sigmarian Empire's by about 977 years, as the people of the Bretonni weren't fully united until King Gilles reign as the first Bretonnian monarch.<br/>
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However, though these honorable Warriors are meant to uphold Chivalry and Justice above all other traits, they are nonetheless afflicted with a much darker side from the shinning Knights they believe themselves to be. Within the feudal social structure of Bretonnia, these Knights consider their lowly subjects as sub-human, as if they are nothing more then property in their hubris and arrogant eyes. Indeed, the life of a Bretonnian Peasant is a life fraught with endless injustice and cruelty by a nobility whose sole duty was meant to protect them and to uphold their duties as beacons of justice. Though such cruelty and injustice have since stained the honor of these proud Knights, there is no doubt within the minds of the Old World that the Knights of Bretonnia are still amongst the greatest Human warriors within the Realms of Man.</div>
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</div><br/><b><u>The Dwarf Holds<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Dwarfs, or Dawi as they call themselves, are currently one of the oldest and proudest races in the Warhammer World, with a great wealth of history and power that stretches back since time immemorial. They once held an empire which stretched from Norsca in the north to the jungles in the south, and from Mount Silverspear in the east to the Grey Mountainsin the west. But the heart of the Dwarfen realm, the Karaz Ankor as they call it, will always lie within the domains of the Worlds Edge Mountains. The highest mountain range in the world, it is filled with the magnificent halls and holds of the Dwarfen people, a testament to the great feats of engineering and power once wielded by this ancient civilization.<br/>
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The Dwarf people as a whole are sturdy and strong, brilliant craftsmen and excellent warriors, but above all they prize themselves on their loyalty to each other and to those they are indebted to. This strong bond of kinship has ensured that the Dwarfs are considered amongst the most united races in the face of the world. They are known far and wide as the greatest miners and tunnelers in the world, the ageless halls of Karaz-a-Karak are but one gigantic example of how huge their works can become. As expected, the Dwarfs are highly proficient smiths and craftsmen, capable of producing works far more beautiful than the Elven metalworkers in far Ulthuan and hundreds of times more valuable than the trinkets of Men. Proud, honorable and enduring, it is said that the Dwarfs shall weather the horrors and misery of this world until its final bitter end.<br/>
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The entire Dwarfen people are all ruled by a spiritual and political leader known as a High King, and below him are a class of lesser Dwarf Kings who each rule a stronghold or Karak (Khazalid for "mountain stronghold"). In theory, the High King has absolute rule over all of his people and all the Mountain Kingdoms, for he is said to be the direct descendant of an Ancestor God and as such may issue edicts or demands if he so chooses. In reality however, the High King actually has to consult and cooperate between each of his fellow Kings, and as of tradition and mutual respect, each Dwarf King must follow and answer the edicts imposed by his High King. The current High King of the Dwarfs is Thorgrim Grudgebearer.<br/>
Each Dwarf King has complete authority within his own Karak and the surrounding territories he occupies. He may pass laws and give edicts to his subjects, but as of tradition, he would usually have a Council of the oldest, wisest and most respected Dwarf to consult the issue and ask for advice. As is the King's duty, a Dwarf King must always put his people and his kingdoms well-being above all others. These duties may range from as simple as hearing the grievances between fellow individuals or clans, to as large as leading a Throng to face the enemy in combat.<br/>
The position of a Dwarf King and that of the High King is hereditary, with only those of the original royal-blood line having any legitimacy to control and claim a Karak. As such, a Dwarf King is also the head of the Royal Clan, which are basically extended families who can trace their lineage to the very first Dwarf who had claimed, built, and ruled the Karak from which they are currently living in. Priding themselves in their loyalty between one-another, only a handful of Dwarfs have ever tried to usurp the throne of a Dwarf King in its history, making a large-scale Civil War between various Karaks near non-existent. Only if a royal line is extinguished or disgraced will the throne be open for legitimacy. In such an event, there are several possibilities and outcomes. Either a high-ranking individual such as a Thane or Prince will be found worthy of succession, or a highly prestigious Dwarf Clan can take up the mantle as the new Royal Clan.<br/>
Below the King is a class of nobles with varying degrees of titles and status, usually taking the name of Thanes. These high-ranking Dwarfs are amongst the oldest, wealthiest, and most skilled individuals within their Kingdom, and each are often the leaders of a single Dwarf Clan. These Thanes owe fealty to their Dwarf King and are allowed to hold an important office within the ruling body, but such a position is not inherently hereditary but rather given to those of great skill and merit.</div>
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</div><br/><b><u>Ulthuan<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Isle of Ulthuan, known alternatively as the Ten Kingdoms, is the ancestral home of the Elven race, and is currently inhabited by the High Elves. Ulthuan forms a hollow ring of land, surrounding an inner sea. This inner sea is accessible only at the Straits of Lothern, in the south of the island.<br/>
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Ulthuan is split up into provinces, each with its own character and ways of waging war. Ulthuan was shattered in the distant past, during the Sundering with the Dark Elves, and much of its North and Western coasts now lie underwater. The eastern approaches are protected by the Shifting Isles, a treacherous maze of magical mists and moving sandbanks. Ulthuan is also home to the majority of the world's remaining Dragons, who slumber under the volcanic mountain ranges of the Dragon Spine Mountains in Caledor.<br/>
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Ulthuan is ruled by a collection of princes, princesses and mages, above whom preside the Phoenix King and the Everqueen. The relationship between these rulers is not as simple as the titles would suggest. The kingship is elective while the queenship is hereditary, and both monarchs maintain entirely separate courts. The Everqueen is always the Queen of Avelorn. Her realm is the site of the principal shrine of the Earth Mother, and she is regarded as the spiritual leader of the whole Elven realm. The position of Everqueen is always taken up by the firstborn daughter of the previous queen, conceived during her year-long ritual marriage to the Phoenix King. After this formal marriage, they are free to take new consorts, but only the daughter conceived from the marriage of the Phoenix King and the Everqueen can be the new Everqueen.<br/>
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Hence the Queens of Averlorn have always been the Everqueens of Ulthuan, forming an unbroken chain from ages past. By contrast, the Phoenix King is chosen from among the princes of Ulthuan, one year after the death of the previous incumbent. Each is crowned during a holy ceremony, held at the massive pyramidal Shrine of Asuryan and attended by the legions of the Phoenix Guard and the princes of Ulthuan. The process of choosing the new Phoenix King is rife with intrigue. Emotions often run hot during this fraught and delicate event. Traditionally, the last thirty days of the year of mourning are set aside for the election to take place; however, in practice the debate starts much sooner than that. Often, the politicking starts long before the reigning Phoenix King has died. High Elves love intrigue, and never is the prize greater than when a new Phoenix King is chosen.<br/>
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The grandest of Ulthuan's noble families each look for their candidate to be chosen, and they vie for the support of their peers for their choice. Further to this, each realm in Ulthuan desires the new Phoenix King to be chosen from their land. So it is that rivalries are set aside — or created — to ensure that the agendas of the noble houses are met. For all the deception, manipulation and chicanery employed during the election process, it is almost unheard of for the tactics employed to escalate to violence or outright sabotage. Such actions are considered heretical, for the Phoenix King is the anointed servant of Asuryan. Few High Elf nobles are so consumed with victory that they could believe, even for a moment, that the Creator God would ever approve of a King selected by the ruling council under such dubious and destructive circumstances.</div>
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</div><br/><b><u>Naggaroth<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Naggaroth, the Land of Chill, is a bleak and forbidding continent that is as unforgiving as the Dark Elves who have it their home. Its northern plains are barren and windswept expanses, broken only by jutting outcrops of rock and magic-stained rivers, their waters sluggish and black, crisscross the ice fields, carving elaborate canyons and deep ravines in the frozen ground. Further south, the thin soil is more fertile, allowing sparse pine forests to grow. Here, the Dark Elves have huge plantations to feed the cities by slaves who labour until they drop dead, their bodies left to nourish the barren soil.<br/>
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The Dark Elves live in six heavily fortified cities, their innumerable towers built from black stone, rising like sinister pinnacles into the dark storm clouds. All of these cities are evil places, steeped in death and agony. Their lightless dungeons are crammed with captives whose wailings fill the air and whose moans seep through the thick walls of the high towers, saturating the soul with pain and misery. From the tips of the high towers, above the filth and smog of sacrificial fires, the Sorceresses cast their malign magic over the world.<br/>
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Notable Locations<br/>
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<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Naggarond - Naggarond, the Tower of Cold or the City of Cold, is the oldest and largest of the Dark Elves' cities, and quite likely the most malevolent place in the world. Its outer walls form an imposing circlet of black stone, in no place less than a hundred feet tall. About the ramparts are set a hundred towers, each rising as high above the battlements as the walls rise above the bare rock.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Ghrond - Ghrond, the Tower of Prophecy is the domain of Malekith's mother, the beautiful seeress Morathi. From Ghrond's pinnacle, Sorceresses of the Dark Convent can see through the snowstorms that whip about the ever-shifting Realm of Chaos. It is said that the patterns of change therein hold the secrets of fate and that all the mysteries of the world are laid bared to she who dares look.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Karond Kar - Karond Kar, the the Tower of Despair, also known as Slaver's Gate can be counted the bleakest of all refuges. The citadel stands sentinel on the edge of the Sea of Chill, perpetually battered by gale-force winds, icy rain and tidal waves the size of mountains.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Har Ganeth - Har Ganeth, the City of Executioners or the City of Khaine, is a cursed place dedicated to the worship of the Bloody-Handed God.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Hag Graef - Hag Graef the Black Crag is a sinister and foreboding place, built at the bottom of a cold, dark canyon and completely surrounded by mountains of bare rock that stretch into the clouds. It is a city permanently in shadow, for no sunlight ever reaches its walls.</li>
<li data-xf-list-type="ul">Clar Karond - Clar Karond, the Tower of Doom, serves as the Witch King's chief shipyard, for it is here that the keels are laid for many thousands of raiding vessels. This is a more sprawling city than others in Naggaroth, stretching from the banks of the Redvenom River up into the trackless pine forests of the Duskridge.</li>
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</div><b><u>Athel Loren<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Athel Loren is a large forest between the Empire and Bretonnia, on the western slopes of the Grey Mountains. It is here that the Wood Elves established their home millenia ago when the majority of the Elves in the Old World returned to Ulthuan, following the Sundering and the War of the Ancients. Athel Loren is ruled by two powerful Elves called Ariel and Orion who are possessed by deities representative of aspects of nature. They are said to be the aethyric conscience of the forest itself. Ariel being the peaceful regenerative representation of nature, and Orion is the warlike unpredictable side.<br/>
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The Wood Elves, known as the Asrai in some tales, or as the Fay Folk of Athel Loren, are a reclusive, secretive and highly isolationist race of Elves that have long ago voluntarily split off from the rest of their kin, preferring instead to live out their lives in Nature's embrace beneath the enchanted forested canopy of Athel Loren. From here, they have learnt to dwell in concord with the seasons and the weave of life and death that binds all living things together. They are the defenders of the forest, guardians of all things natural and pure. For millennia, the Wood Elves have lived in this state of harmony, lying in wait and hidden from the prying eyes of the wider World.<br/>
Yet times have changed since that ancient age, and the Wood Elves realize that the fate of Athel Loren is now tied to that of other lands. Though they do not seek to act as the world’s protectors as do the High Elves, nor enthronen themselves as its rulers as do the Dark Elves, there are those times when the will of Orion and Ariel, the King and Queen in the Woods, must shape the fortunes of those that live beyond the boundary of their homelands.<br/>
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As such, the Wood Elves have spent their entire existence bent solely on the preservation of their forested realms, to ensure that it persist throughout the ages and to protect their demi-god rulers from all harms. Never has this been truer than in these dark days, where every broken bough or withered leaf carries an omen of darker times to come. It is this cause in which they fight, for no land endures long if it cannot take up arms against those that wish it harm, and the waking woodland of Athel Loren have endured for many thousands of years, so long as the watchful eyes of her protectors continue their loyal vigilance.<br/>
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The forest is steeped in magic, and it is unlike any other forest in the world. It is said that time flows differently in the forest than elsewhere. You could be in there for hours and come out and see only a few minutes have gone by. Or you could be in there for several minutes and come out and see a century has gone by.<br/>
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Forest spirits - Treemen, Dryads, and so on - are common in Athel Loren, and when the Wood Elves go to war to defend the borders of their woodland realm, the living trees of the forest fight alongside them. Strangers who venture into Athel Loren are rarely seen again, and the local Bretonnian peasants who live in the vicinity of the forest border know to keep well clear of the trees.</div>
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</div><br/><u><b>Lustria</b></u><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Lustria is a large, tropical continent located within the southern hemisphere of the New World and is considered to be the rightful domain of the Lizardmen race. For long ages of the world, the mysterious continent of Lustria has remained hidden to outsiders. This is not by accident or by some geographical oddity, but rather by strongly maintained magical wards, enchantments which disorient intruders. Those that manage to pass through the unseen barriers find other dangers — Lustria’s coasts are home to treacherous tides, unnatural eddies and typhoons of great power. In its clear blue waters lurk scaled reptilian beasts whose jaws can splinter a ship’s hull.<br/>
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While the waters surrounding Lustria are perilous, the whole of the enormous continent is one of the most hostile regions in the entire world. The majority of its landmass is covered in jungle, a dark abode where death comes in myriad guises. Mighty, prehistoric carnivores rule the forests — some actively stalking their prey, while others lurk in ambush, awaiting whatever wanders close. No less deadly are the jungle’s smaller killers; everywhere, debilitating parasites lurk, awaiting their opportunity to latch onto a new host, and the humid air buzzes with swarms of blood-sucking insects so voracious they can exsanguinate a man before his body can collapse to the forest floor.<br/>
Only the Lizardmen and other cold-blooded creatures can endure the stifling heat and humidity for long; other races eventually sicken and die. To its native Lizardmen, however, Lustria is a haven — a deathtrap to invaders and a bulwark against the disorder set loose in the world with the coming of Chaos. Lustria contains mighty rivers, vast tracts o f unbroken swampland, arid deserts, soaring mountains and a vast and fertile plain - deep grasslands and savannahs that stretch beyond the horizon. Yet one feature dominates all others</div>
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</div><br/><u><b>The Ogre Kingdoms</b></u><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Ogre Kingdoms is the rightful and sovereign domain of the large and brutish Ogre race. Wandering tribes of Ogres can be found wrecking their way across the globe, erecting many strongholds and plundering far off and exotic lands the likes of which no man will ever see in their lifetime. Yet no matter how far away they may be, all Ogres refer to the scattered tribal kingdoms that dominate the slopes and river valleys of the Mountains of Mourn their rightful, hard-earned homeland. It is here, amongst the frozen peaks and blistering blizzards that mighty Tyrants rule over their own brutal kingdoms, warring amongst each other, looting, extorting and ransacking all before them as a tribute to their own gluttonous appetite and their ever-hungry God, the Great Maw.<br/>
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They fight as thugs, bandits and mercenaries, their hulking numbers coming from a wide diversity of warmongering tribes scattered all across the Mountain range. They pick on the strong and the weak alike, battling mighty foes and powerful kingdoms many thousands of miles away all for the alluring promise of gold, plunder and meat. Even here, amongst the peaks where they hold claim to all, fearsome beast and mighty creatures dominate the dark corners of their realm, preying on all those who come to close. Yet such is the Ogres ferocious, stubborn and ever ravenous nature that they see these creatures not as a foe to cower and hide from, but as a challenge that needs to be brought down, crushed beneath their boot and eaten to fill their hungry bellies.<br/>
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Armies have come and gone throughout the ages into the Mountains, but only the Ogres can truly claim to have conquered it all. It was the Ogres who brought down the mighty Sky-Titans of the upper Peaks, bringing their civilization low and condemning their children into exile or enslavement. It is they who once claimed a mighty realm within the Great Steppes of the Far East, battling the ancient Grand Empire of Cathay for supremacy before the day came that their malevolent and ever-hungry God, the Great Maw punished the Ogres for their sins and brought about the Great Migration of their race. That was many thousands of years ago, and as the Ogres grow in numbers once more, the cycle of history is set to repeat itself. Should nothing stop them now, it is said that the Ogres will stop at nothing to devour every living thing within this ravaged world.</div>
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</div><br/><b><u>Nehekhara/Khemri</u></b><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Nehekhara, which translates to as the Great Lands,[1d] yet known now and forever as the Land of the Dead, was once a mighty and far-flung Human civilization and the former homeland of the Tomb Kings. Located within the deep south of the Old World, Nehekhara stretches across the expanses of the lands and valleys between the Great Desertof Araby to the West, the Bitter Sea to the East, the rugged arid plains of the Badlands to the north, and the steaming jungles of the Southlands.<br/>
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Whilst the land of Nehekhara was once fertile, populous and prosperous, it is now a desolate kingdom of barren wasteland and searing desert. In addition to the centuries of war and neglect, the lands were forever tainted by the enchantments of Nagash's Great Ritual. The Land of the Dead is a now a ghost-haunted realm where countless unquiet spirits and elementals flit around great mortuary temples and dark tombs. Their cries can be heard screaming in the wind as they cross the vast tracts of Nehekhara's baking deserts, preying on those foolish enough to enter the cursed land in search of treasure.<br/>
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Nehekhara is a hostile realm where the searing heat of the desert sun is the least of a wandering traveller's worries. The waters of the Great Mortis River are poisonous and blood-coloured, providing no relief to the thirsty. There are regions of quicksand that can swallow regiments whole and choking sandstorms that strip the flesh from bones in mere seconds. Whirlwinds of dust, skulls and ravenous desert insects scour through the land, and rivers of flesh-eating beetles crawl across the desert, consuming everything in their path.<br/>
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There are vast plains of bones and skulls that come to life without warning, skeletal fingers reaching up to drag anything alive on the surface into a sandy grave below. A few oases still exist, scattered throughout the and desert, but they are all tainted; instead of fresh water they are filled with bubbling pools of blood. Most are the abodes of foul monsters, and those that are not are lined with parched, malevolent trees that strangle their victims and suck every drop of moisture from their bodies. Nehekhara is a wilderness of ever shifting sands, a land of constantly changing topography.<br/>
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There are waterfalls of sand that defy the passage of time and flow. backwards. There exist dunes and basins large enough to accommodate entire armies, and many of the Tomb King's legions lie beneath the surface in such places — awaiting the magical incantations of Liche Priests to awaken them from their deathly slumber. A sandstorm might unearth a monolithic statue, or even an entire buried city, lost and forgotten under the dunes, only to be engulfed and concealed again a few days later. Such hidden places are said to include the mysterious City of Bronze, a complex rumoured to be covered in glyphs carved by beings older than Nehekhara itself.<br/>
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In addition to open deserts, where sand stretches as far as the eye can see, there are vast necropolises and numerous places where one can hardly move for all the statues and sculptures, each covered with grisly images of death. These monuments are vaster and grander than anything the Old World can boast, and foremost amongst them are towering figures resembling the great kings and angry gods of Nehekhara — fearsome statues that come to life and smite trespassers with impunity.<br/>
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When the Tomb Kings awoke, they ordered their Undead minions to rebuild the cities of old and fill them with the markets, wares, boats, and other things that they remembered from life. As few trees grow in the Land of the Dead, many of these things are fashioned from stone, gold or fused bones. Skeletal men walk the lands fulfilling seemingly pointless jobs such as fetching stagnant water, harvesting crops long since withered or else rowing barges across the Great Mortis River. Armies of Skeletons are forever patrolling the borders of their realm as they did in life, relentlessly striding across the arid landscape in search of enemies and intruders.<br/>
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Numerous Undead creatures wander the deep desert, from swarms of small but deadly desert scorpions to giant centipedes, each the size of a sphinx. Great flocks of Carrion circle high above, and packs of ravenous sand sharks swim beneath the surface of the dunes. In the centuries since Nagash's Great Ritual, many foul monsters have been drawn to the magically tainted realm. There are now Manticores, Cockatrices and even Dragons inhabiting the Nehekharan desert. Nomadic bandits make a living by plundering the tombs of ancient kings, and marauding Orc tribes continuously rampage across the Land of the Dead in search of battle and plunder. Nehekhara may be a barren realm, but it is far from empty or uninhabited</div>
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</div><br/><u><b>Threats of the Old World</b></u><br/>As if general day to day life wasn't hard enough there are several races within the Old World that wish to see the downfall of civilized society.<br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Skaven, sometimes known as the Ratmen, the Ratkin or the Children of the Horned Rat, are a malevolent and diabolical race of large humanoid rat-creatures that inhabits a massive inter-continental underground empire known in their tongue simply as the Under-Empire, where at the very heart of Skavendom lies the horrific city of Skavenblight, the species capital city and the probable birthplace of the Skaven race. The Skavens as a whole are a cruel, treacherous and highly numerous species that have since spread their loathsome corruption to the farthest corners of the Warhammer World. From deep below the earth, these scavengers have built a vast Empire, whose military power and incomprehensible numbers has the potential to smother the kingdoms of the Old World in a seething tide of violence and anarchy. It is believed by all of Skaven-kind that the world is destined to be theirs, for they consider themselves the Supreme Master Race, undeniably superior in everyway to all the other races of the World.<br/>
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This unwavering belief stems from the promises made by their horrificly malevolent deity, known by many legendary names, but his most well-known title is that of the Horned Rat. The Horned Rat is known as the Harbinger of Corruption and Disease, the embodiment of all things the Skaven are or ever will be, and whose worship over the Under-Empire is both supreme and absolute. Within the cruel hierarchy of the Under-Empire, the wishes and demands of the Horned Rat is issued and maintained by the ruthless tyranny of the Council of Thirteen, an organization that consist of the 12 most powerful Warlords within the Under-Empire whilst the 13th seat is reserve for the Horned Rat himself. It is due to the Council's harsh tyranny that the Under-Empire remained unified in some shape or form for centuries, for none could ever hope to overcome the legions of warriors the Council has under their iron-fisted rule.<br/>
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Out of all the mortal civilizations within the greater world, no single race, neither the ruthless Barbarian tribes of the North, nor the savage Greenskins of the East can be compared in terms of instability to that of the Skaven Under-Empire. The Skaven race as a whole is extremely divided, often far more divided then perhaps any other race known in existence. Such disunion and ruthless lack of cooperation stems from the Skaven's insatiable need to survive, thrive and reign tyrannical over his other brethrens. To every Skaven, there is no such thing as pity, remorse, compassion, or cooperation. There is simply survival, survival in a turbulent society that only spares those that possess the brute strength, extreme cunning, and the vicious instinct to outmaneuver and kill the opposition, no matter the cost or the body count of either friend or foe. Though no matter how divided their race may be, they are nonetheless unified in a single cause, and that cause is to conquer the surface world and bring about the Great Ascendancy, where it is said that the Horned Rat's children will swarm across the face of the earth and claim all of it as their own.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Greenskins are a highly primitive and warlike race of barbarians and raiders that occupy much of the Eastern Hemisphere of the Warhammer World. The term "Greenskins" is a common collective description used by many civilized nations to refer to the forces of the Orcs and Goblins and other biologically related races. The broadest division is between the Orcs, who are strong, brutish, and savage warriors, and the Goblins, who are smaller and weaker, but cunning and conniving creatures.<br/>
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The Greenskins are considered by many to be the scourge of all civilization. These tribal warriors are violent in their tendency, raiding ceaselessly, carrying war and barbarism to all corners of the known World. Time and again, hordes of Greenskins would arise without warning and lay a great swath of destruction that has no direction or purpose other than simple violence. Indeed, the Greenskin race single motive is violence, an ever increasing mass of warfare that has the potential to dominate and cover the entire World in a seething green tide.<br/>
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However, the Greenskins tendency for warfare has created a division within their society that has ensured their race shall never reach such heights. Since the dawn of their history, the Greenskins have been plagued by a never-ending series of strife and civil war that has consumed millions of their own kind, for such is their tendency for warfare that tribes have been known to fight each other just as much as they fight the other civilized races of the Old World. Though such a disunion would often spell the doom of their race, such are the Greenskins adept ability to both survive and thrive in the most harshest of environments, that the Greenskins can never truly be exterminated from the face of this earth. Without the proper knowledge or unity to progress past even the most basic foundations for a civilization, the Greenskins cannot amount to anything better than primitive savages living within scattered tribal societies.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The Beastmen, sometimes known as the Cloven Ones, the Horned Ones, the Beast of Chaos or even the Children of Chaos are a race of savage mutant humanoids that bear various traits of bestial appearance, such as cloven hooves, muscular human bodies, horned bestial heads and a malign primitive intelligence. Proud of their origins, it is said that they are the descendants of ancient humans corrupted and twisted by the influence of Chaos at the dawn of Chaos's coming into the world.<br/>
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From deep within the twisted forested woodlands of the Old World and beyond, the Beastmen are a violent, war-driven race that seeks only to plague and destroy the civilizations of Mankind. They prey on the weak and defenseless, striking at lonely settlements without warning in a rampage of destruction before disappearing into the protective darkness of their dark wilderness, running away from the dire retribution that fails to follow.<br/>
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To the citizens of the Empire, Bretonnia and the other nations of the Old World, the Beastmen have come to represent creatures from a half-remembered age of nightmare. Men deceive themselves that the danger has passed; that they are safe in their walled towns, that their steel and gunpowder, wizards' arts and engineers' creations will hold at bay the lowly beast-things that haunt the woodlands. Men tell themselves that the creatures of the forest are disorganised and incapable of fielding armies that can threaten their crenellated, high-walled cities.<br/>
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They are quite wrong. To underestimate the Beastmen is a fatal mistake. The Cloven Ones are creatures of violence and conflict, and they are far more cunning than the Empire believes. Worse still, the more noble and haughty the foe, the more the Beastmen are driven to prove their own supremacy by casting him down from his lofty pedestal and trampling his body beneath blood-encrusted, filthy hooves. As such, these unruly, course and foul creatures would go to war with savage intent, slaughtering the civilized races like cattle, burning down and shattering their homes, and stomping on the remains with their cloven hooves until there is nothing left but devastation and ruin. It is said that so long as Chaos reigns over this world, the Beastmen shall plague the lands of Mankind for all eternity.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">The forces of Chaos are great and varied, from the barbarian hordes of the North, the roving Beastmen herds, demons and other hideous mutated creatures. To catelogue the varieties of each would take many life times. What is known, but rarely spoken of, are the four greater gods of chaos, Khorne, Nurgle, Tzeentch and Slannesh.<br/>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Khorne, also known as Kharneth, the Blood God, the Lord of Murder and the Hunter of Souls, is the Chaos God of War, Honor, Courage, Rage, Strength and Hate. His domain of power encompasses the most basic and brutal of sentient emotion and every act of killing is said to empower Him, the more vicious and bloodthirsty the better. He is said to smile upon feats of valour, strength and blood-drenched warrior skill, and is the patron of proud warriors who set themselves against the odds and emerge triumphant through strength and skill. Khorne is said to exalt the brave of both sides of the battle, while at the same time laying his terrible vengeance upon the cowardly and craven.<br/>
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On one side of his nature, Khorne is the embodiment of honor and courage, and to those that has put his faith in Khorne are just as likely to be an honorable warrior as he is a blood-crazed killer, and often times it is that he shall be both at the same time. The Warriors of Khorne, though gore-maddened berserkers all, take no artful approach to killing, for such indulgent displays serve only to empower Slaanesh, the honorless adversary of Khorne amongst the company of the gods. It is also due to the warrior-code of the devotees of Khorne, who believe it is the solemn right of every warrior to die an honorable death in battle with sword and axe in hand. Khorne is the second eldest and perhaps the mightiest of the Gods of Chaos.<br/>
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Khorne is known by a thousand, thousand names in the North. He is known as Kharneth, Akhar, Kjorn, Khorgar, the Axefather, the Bloodfather, the Bloodwolf and the Wolf-Father, and yet other uncounted multitudes of titles and aspects. The Blood God is worshiped by almost every tribe in the North, for the Northmen are warrior-peoples who exalt in the contest of arms. Particularly the Norscans, who most eagerly of all embrace Khorne's call to eternal warfare.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Nurgle, also known as the Plague Lord, the Lord of Pestilence, the Fly Lord, and the Urfather is the Chaos God of Disease, Decay, Destruction, and Death by Rebirth. He is the eldest of the four Chaos Gods and is the most directly involved with the plight of mortals, particularly Humans who suffer so acutely from a fear of death. Indeed, Nurgle is undoubtedly the oldest of the Chaos Gods, for the process of death and decay is as old as Life itself. When the first forms of life had lived upon the universe, they've lived and then would inevitably die, and from this death came the primordial Nurgle.<br/>
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On one side of his nature, Nurgle is unexpectedly also the personification of Rebirth. After all, decay is simply one part of the cycle of life, without which no new life could grow. In the same way, Nurgle also personifies Perseverance and Survival. While those who wish to spread decay and corruption are certainly amongst his followers, there are also those who wish to endure, to become tough enough to handle the difficulties and opportunities presented by an uncaring world. Many of those affected by Nurgle's poxes usually turn to him in order to escape the pain caused by sickness and disease, and while the other three Gods of Chaos have little care for their followers, it is Nurgle who places an uncommon love, admiration, and faith upon those that would follow his blighted footsteps.<br/>
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Out of all the Dark Gods, Nurgle is perhaps the least worshiped amongst the tribes of the North. Nurgle's worship is only done when plagues and disease are prevalent amongst their people, for to do so otherwise would simply bring the same diseases upon their lands. In this dire state, the Northmen tribes would often appease Nurgle by offerings of gifts or sacrifices so that they would spare them from his diseases. Those that embrace these "gifts" are given unbelievable constitution against all disease and against even mortal weapons. Only the most powerful weapons or the most lethal of wounds can ever have a chance to bring a Follower of Nurgle down for good, and even to get close to such followers would often bring death to the aggressor himself.</div>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Tzeentch, known also as The Raven God, the Changer of Ways and the Great Conspirator is the Chaos God of Magic, Change, Evolution, Destiny, Lies and Trickery. He is flux embodied, a daemon-god who alone truly embodies the terrible energies and momentum of Chaos. He bears a strong claim to all who profess to worship the Northern Gods, for without transformation, a warrior cannot ascend to greatness, the gods cannot grant their blessings, and the living cannot die. Tzeentch's name is derivative from his true name in the Dark Tongue; Tzeen'neth, Lord of Change. He is the Great Sorcerer of Chaos, and Bringer of Change, for make no mistake -- endless, broiling change is the truest nature of Chaos, and Chaos is the source of the eldritch energies that mortals, in their superstition, have named 'magic'.<br/>
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What mortal can dare say that he has not desired knowledge of the mysteries of destiny, or the awesome power of magic. It is Tzeentch alone who holds the true key to this terrible knowledge, and his price is steep indeed. For his worshipers are naught but pawns in his game to outflank his Brothers in Darkness and to bring about the downfall of all civilization. The Raven God rewards his followers with madness and insanity, and upon death their spirits are brought to his halls to serve him for all eternity. Yet, the Raven God does not scheme towards the accomplishment of some end, but instead, strives to create tumult and turmoil for its own sake.<br/>
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Though weary scholars of daemon lore know this god by the name of Tzeentch, in truth, he exceeds all the other Ruinous Powers in his number of facets and aspects. For he is Change, said to embody every mortal creature's recognition of, and desire for and to, change. His face and form shifts and turns from eternity unto eternity. To the vicious barbarians of Norsca, he is the Raven God. In the dreaded East, he is known as Chen the Deceiver, and the Kurgan tribes hold that his messengers are the great condors of the Steppes. Yet whatever his mien and whomever his people, the Changer is ever viewed as the Great Schemer, a fickle, politicking god who should be feared as much as he should not be trusted.<br/>
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In grimoires prescribed by half-sane men, the devotees of Tzeentch scribble down their respective visions of their god. No two accounts are alike. Sometimes the god is depicted as a huge mass of shifting colours, or as a mighty daemon with a vulturous beak and multi-hued wings, and other times as a gangrel giant with its monstrous head set squarely in its chest, and with two serpents writhing from its shoulders. The followers of Tzeentch hold that he rules from an Impossible Fortress deep within the Realm of Chaos. At its heart, within a crystalline labyrinth of inconceivable geometry, lies the Hidden Library, a hall of eternal dimensions that houses the collective knowledge of the entire universe. Within it lies also the fabled Well of Eternity, and into its magic waters does Tzeentch gaze for aeons uncounted, searching intently for a glimpse of the clues and conundrums that will allow him to enact his ineffable schemes.<br/>
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Tzeentch possesses many sigils and symbols, though the most common is the writhing fire of change. Daemon and Champion alike are gifted with eerie bird-like beaks, claws and multi-coloured feathers. Their skin and armour is in constant flow, shifting in shape and textures, forming grotesque, cackling faces and kaleidoscopes of blazing colour that disorient all who look upon them. Those who few who succeed upon twisting path become the most other-wordly of all Chaos Champions. For they are blessed twofold with incredible martial skill and the arcane might of the Lord of Magic. While the warrior-skill of the Chosen of Tzeentch is still second to those warriors who tread Khorne's bloody path, their potent magical abilities are still enough to empower them as formidable adversaries who lead their armies with otherwordly prescience.<br/>
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Though the servitors of Tzeentch are not as directly mighty or savagely courageous as those of bloodthirsty Khorne, nor possessing the unholy resiliency of the warriors of Nurgle, the might of the Changer of Ways cannot be measured with means so crude as the physical. The skies above a Tzeentchian warband writhe and burn with untrammeled power. Their banners screech with otherwordly energies and seethe and crackle with bolts of lightning that bring ruination unto the enemy. The blades and armour of a Chosen of Tzeentch glow with eldritch flame, and when the Raven is ascendant, his champions are gifted with a preternatural ability to sense and perceive the flow of time itself and instinctively react to over a dozen different outcomes, thus affording them tactical supremacy over the battlefield. Warshrines draw forth yet more arcane power into the ranks of the faithful, even as the warrior-wizards at their head unleash curses of ungodly power that mutate or immolate all they touch.<br/>
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Though Tzeentch gathers fewer devotees from amongst the brute tribes of Norsca and Kurgan than the War-God Khorne, he still occupies a highly significant role in the lives of the warriors of the North. He is the patron of the shaman and soothesayers of the far north, who pray to him that he may bestow them pre-eminence over the warrior-chieftains who rule the tribes, and for fortune and glory in all magical endeavours. But it is amongst the lands of the Empire and far Cathay that Tzeentch's influence is most keen. In the land of Sigmar, the worshipers of Tzeentch gather in hidden covens by which they use every means to increase their own personal standing and spread the power of their patron.<br/>
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Those most vulnerable to his temptations are the mages, scholars and other educated members of society who labour after the search for knowledge, whatever the cost to their morals or sanity. Most of these cults are led by Magisters -- the most accomplished magician in the ranks, and are divided are so many layers of affiliation, each highly complex, that the only individual in the cult likely to know the identity of all its members is the Magister himself. By contrast, in Cathay, the worship of Tzeentch is an officially recognized cult, and the veneration of this Dark God is foolishly allowed to progress free and unmolested, albeit in a form more controlled and suited to civilization than the brutality of the Norse and Kurgan.<br/>
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The tribes of the North who venerate Tzeentch believe him to be the lord of the sky, and that by entering a trance-like state, they too can soar the heavens alongside him, communing with him and learning his will. It is he, they maintain, that understands the hearts and minds of men better than his brothers.  Tzeentch's favoured totem beast is the Raven, and it is in his aspect of the raven that he is worshiped amongst the Norsemen. The eagle is yet another beast sacred to Tzeentch, one by which he is honoured by both Norse and Kurgan alike. Such animals are said to be his eyes in the mortal realm, and to see one is considered an omen amongst those who profess to serve him. Whether one for good or ill, none can say, for Tzeentch delights in misdirection and subterfuge, and the only limit to his capriciousness is his own anarchic imagination. Tzeentch's sacred number is nine, and this is reflected in the organizations of his cults and warbands, who often congregate in multiples or divisors of nine, and also in the number of syllables in a daemon's true name. His favoured colours are blue and gold, but an ever-shifting spectrum of different colours is likewise thought to honour him in his capacity as the engine of change. One thing alone is certain, however, that whenever the Raven stirs from his reverie, madness, treachery and strife afflict creation.</div>
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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">”Description of Slaanesh”</span></span>
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Slaanesh, also known as the Dark Prince, the Prince of Pleasure, the Lord of Excess, the Perfect Prince, and even the Prince of Chaos is the Chaos God of Pleasure, Passion, Love and Decadence. Slaanesh is the the Dark God dedicated to the pursuit of earthly gratification and the overthrow of all decent behaviour, 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. Out of all the pantheon, Slaanesh is the youngest of the Chaos Gods, for the complex emotions of Love and Decadence can only exist within the minds of intelligent races.<br/>
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On one side of his nature, Slaanesh is the embodiment of Love, Passion and the vibrant Art. Those that dabble with such emotions are usually those of artisans, dancers and flamboyant nobles of the southern realms. However, he is also the embodiment of Hubris, Pride and Pain. Every breath is an opportunity to take in a new scent. Each glass raised is a chance to savour a new flavour. On every battlefield, each sword blow can entice a never before heard pain-filled scream. From his glittering palace, the Lord of Excess revels in each new sensation discovered. He guides and directs the inhabitants of the world to push ever onwards towards new heights of sensation with no forms of moral boundry.<br/>
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Unlike the influence of the other Chaos Gods, Slaanesh influence is more prevalent amongst the civilized nations of the Old World. The warlike tribes of the north have very little time to indulge themselves in their desires, for every waking moment is a simple fight for survival. As a result, perhaps the most numerous disciples of Slaanesh hail from the decadent peoples of the south. It is only from here that a person can indulge themselves in the pleasures of life, such as beautiful artwork, culinary delights, extravagant clothing, and the pleasures of the flesh. And none have more time and wealth to indulge themselves in such delights than the wealthy nobles of the nobility.</div>
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