The Fyreslayers are a grim and mercenary breed of duardin, sworn to war for payment in sacred gold, yet no coin has ever bought cowardice from them. Before a warrior-lodge crashes into the foe, the air fills with a glittering hail of Fyresteel Throwing Axes, hurled with such force and fury that many enemies lie dead before the true slaughter has even begun.
Each axe is forged from fyresteel, a metal worked in the volcanic heat of the lodges' magmaholds, many of which are delved into the burning realm of Aqshy and the fire-touched places beyond. The metal holds a savage edge and takes well to the forge, and a berserk Vulkite can loose a pair of these axes in the moment before contact, then draw his war-pick and fall upon the wounded with a roar. There is no artistry to it, only brutal and overwhelming momentum.
To the Fyreslayers, war and wealth are one and the same. The runes of ur-gold hammered into their flesh grant them the strength to throw with unnatural power, and every foe felled is another step toward reclaiming the shattered remnants of their fallen god. A rain of fyresteel axes is thus more than an opening volley. It is an act of faith, a down-payment of blood offered up before the reckoning of the axe-blade proper.
The armoury continues
