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Fyreslayers

Mercenary duardin berzerkers descended from the shattered war-god Grimnir, who hammer runes of ur-gold into their flesh and sell their axes to buy back the scattered body of their god.

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Fyreslayers — faction art

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In the Age of Myth, Sigmar freed the duardin war-god Grimnir from his chains, and Grimnir — who could not abide owing anything to anyone — demanded to repay the debt at once. Sigmar named a task worthy of a god: slay Vulcatrix, the Ur-Salamander, mother of every fire that gnaws at the roots of the realms. Their duel was mutual annihilation. Grimnir struck the killing blow even as the godbeast's death-flame consumed him, and god and salamander detonated together, raining molten fragments of divinity across the Mortal Realms. Where those fragments cooled they became ur-gold: a metal that is not truly metal at all, but the scattered body and rage of a dead god.

The Fyreslayers are Grimnir's children — duardin lodges who have made the recovery of that scattered god their eternal business. Their priesthood, the Zharrgrim, smelt ur-gold into runes and hammer them glowing-hot into the flesh of every warrior. A rune-struck Fyreslayer burns from within: muscles swell with a god's strength, wounds seal themselves, and the berzerker fury of Grimnir rises singing in the blood. To outsiders it looks like scarification and madness. To the lodges it is communion, each rune a syllable of their god spoken back into the world.

Because ur-gold is indistinguishable from common gold to any eye but a runemaster's, the lodges must gather all the gold they can — and so the Fyreslayers sell the one thing they possess in abundance: war. Their axes can be hired by any who pay, Sigmar's free cities one season and far stranger clients the next, and the trade has earned them a name for greed among those who mistake devotion for avarice. But no Fyreslayer contract has ever been broken. An oath sworn over gold is sworn on Grimnir's own remains, and a lodge would sooner see its magmahold burn than let such an oath fail.

Deep in their volcano-holds the Runefathers keep tally of every rune forged and every shard reclaimed, for the faith teaches that when enough ur-gold is gathered — or spent in glorious battle, for the doctrines quarrel on the point — Grimnir will be made whole again. Whether the god will rise from a vault of hoarded runes or from the sum of a million berzerker deaths, no two lodges agree. So the Fyreslayers fight on, measuring honor in gold and gold in honor, each generation hammering more of their god into their skin and marching out to die magnificently, one kept oath closer to resurrection.

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