The Beastmen are the truest children of Chaos, born not bred, spawned wherever the Dark Gods' corruption pools thick in the wild places of the Old World. Part man and part beast, crowned with horns and cloven of hoof, they are hatred given flesh, loathing civilisation with a purity that no plan or ambition can dilute. They gather in braying herds within the black heart of the forest, where no honest axe has ever cut a road.
The Brayherds are ruled by towering Beastlords and led in worship by the Bray-Shamans, who read omens in twisted trees and raise crude herdstones slick with sacrifice. Lowly ungors and gnarled gors make up the mass of the herd, while monstrous minotaurs bellow at its heart. When the beast-tide pours from the treeline it comes without warning, to burn the villages of men and drag the survivors screaming into the dark.
Beastmen envy and despise mankind in equal measure, hating most of all the works of order the Empire raises against the wild. They keep no cities, write no histories, and dream only of the day the forests swallow the world. To wander from the road at dusk is to hear their horns and know that something older and crueller than man still rules the shadows.
The bestiary continues
