The Humans of the Old World are a young and vigorous race, spreading across the western lands in a patchwork of squabbling nations even as the elder peoples decline. What they lack in the deep wisdom of elves or the ancient craft of dwarfs, they make up for in sheer numbers, ambition and a stubborn refusal to die quietly in the face of horrors that would break older souls.
Greatest among their realms stands the Empire of Man, founded by the warrior Sigmar and bound together by faith, black powder and steel against the ceaseless tide of Chaos, beastmen and the restless dead. To its west, the knightly kingdom of Bretonnia upholds a rigid code of chivalry beneath the blessing of the Lady, its questing knights riding out while its peasantry toils in the mud. Northward, the frozen realm of Kislev holds the grim marches against the Chaos Wastes.
Human civilisation is a fragile candle in a night full of predators. Witch hunters burn the corrupt, priests rail against daemons, and warlords carve out fiefdoms only to see them fall. Yet for all their venality, superstition and infighting, humankind endures where others perish, breeding faster than the world can kill them and clinging to hope, ambition and the promise of empire.
The bestiary continues
