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In the far north ties the land of the everlasting ice. Here, amongst the mountain peaks and unwelcoming hills, Chaos reigns supreme. It is a land that few of the soft inhabitants of the Empire or Bretonnia could endure. In winter the cold is so great that it can freeze a man within moments. The land lies under the shadow of Chaos, and the sun is rarely seen. Its landscape is riven with deadfalls and chasms and the earth often trembles, creating new dangers and burying the unwary. Warpstone dust from the Realm of Chaos twists the beasts that live here into new, horrifying shapes.
Yet even here, in the most unwelcoming of all the lands, men live. Tribes of humans, if they can be called such, inhabit the mountains and the valleys. Such a deadly land breeds deadly men. Only the strongest survive here, and they earn their right to live by fighting the monstrous creatures of the land. There is only room for the strong and the weak are doomed to perish. These northerners are tall men, powerfully built, with large, well-muscled frames and long limbs. How long they have been here no one knows, but they are an ancient people. Some of the monoliths, erected to glorify the deeds of the champions of their gods are extremely ancient, predating the time of Sigmar.
These barbarians dress in furs and tattoo their bodies with evil symbols to attract the attention of their gods. Mutations amongst them are common and they are seen as a mark of divine favour. These tribes are collectively called Marauders, or Chaos Marauders, though in fact they are divided into many tribes.
There are countless warbands of Marauders, but most of them follow one of the great totem gods. These are Chron or Khorne, the Hound of War; Tchar or Tzeentch, the Great Eagle; Nurgal or Nurgle, the Skeletal Crow; and Loesh or Slaanesh, the Mighty Serpent. Some Marauders follow the Great Nameless god, Chaos Undivided, but these are much rarer. When the volcanoes that rise amongst the mountains spew forth fire and brimstone it is seen as a sign from their gods who, they believe, live farther north, beyond the Mountains of Dusk.
Of all the skills that men associate with civilization the barbarians excel only in the making of weapons, for the Mountains of Frost and Dusk are rich with mineral deposits. The Marauders would present a dire threat to the world were they not so divided and continuously warring against each other. It is indeed fortunate that their lands are separated from the Old World by the mighty Mountains of Frost.
The Marauders carve great wooden totems to their pitiless gods, and fight endlessly in their honour. Blood flows under the cold stars as the tribes fight with each other and the bands of Beastmen and Orcs that roam the land.
Beyond the Mountains of Dusk is the Realm of Chaos, the domain of their gods. The Chosen Ones, the greatest amongst the Marauders, can cross the mountains and the Tainted Sea when called by the gods to serve as Chaos Warriors, the retainers of the Chaos Gods. Each Marauder aspires to join them, and strives to distinguish himself in the service of his god.
It is said that the tribes wait for an Arch- Champion: a mighty lord blessed by the Chaos gods who will gather all the tribes under his banner. He will be served by Daemons and Children of Chaos alike, and will eradicate the feeble nations of Men, Dwarfs, Elves and others who resist Chaos. Every Marauder believes that this Champion will come from amongst his own tribe, and destroy their hated rival tribes as well as the weak Dwarfs and soft men of the Empire and Kislev. Marauders pray for a sign from their gods that it is time to raise their blood-soaked standards once again and march against the free people of the world. That day is not far away, for even now the Shamans dream of a terrible slaughter that is to come, and the warriors of the four totem gods sharpen their axes, eagerly awaiting the time when those gods will come to claim the world for their own.
TRIBE OF THE HOUND
The Tribe of the Hound is the first and the greatest of the tribes. They are mighty warriors who carry huge, deadly axes to battle.
Their god is depicted as the Great Hound of War, eternally thirsting for blood. Its howl is full of strife and battle, and the only way to appease this merciless god is to wage war and slaughter every living thing on the field of battle. The Marauders call the Hound god Chron. They believe that fire is his element and that the rage of volcanoes is a divine omen, meaning that Chron is angry and demands greater bloodshed.
The Great Hound is but another form of Khorne, the great Chaos god of war. He is the god of rage, but also of martial spirit and battle prowess. His tribe is the largest and the most powerful, and they openly scorn the other tribes. The Tribe of the Hound is eternally waging war, and only by proving his prowess at arms can a tribesman rise to a more dominant position.
It is the Great Hound of War that gave the gift of weapon making and the secret of steel to the Marauders, so that they could shed blood in his name. They also raid Dwarf strongholds to gain weapons and armour, and the Dwarfs hold them amongst their most bitter enemies.
The Tribe of the Hound breeds gigantic Wolfhounds, slavering beasts often warped by power from the Chaos Wastes. Many of them hunt in savage packs, adding yet another danger to this inhospitable land. These are the Chaos Hounds - the dreaded hunters of the Northern Wastes.
TRIBE OF THE GREAT EAGLE
Second in power only to the Tribe of the Hound is the Tribe of the Eagle. The Marauders of this tribe describe their god as a gigantic eagle that soars high above the world. His unblinking eyes see all, and he understands the hearts of men better than any of his immortal brothers. Air is his element, and in the trance-like dreams of his Shamans he always soars above the land, observing the fascinating antics of the puny mortal creatures. Indeed Tchar, the Great Eagle, is Tzeentch, the Changer of the Ways, in one of his many guises.
The Chaos Marauders of the Eagle tribe are cruel, cunning and treacherous. They are always allying and negotiating, making new pacts and betraying old alliances. While other tribes know of their treachery, the followers of the Eagle are far too powerful to be ignored. The warbands of the Eagle tribe never stay in one place for long, but travel from place to place, leading a nomadic life. They ride the plains in great chariots carved from the northern oaks, using them in battle to crush
their enemies under the great scythed wheels. As their god delights in masquerades and deceit, the tribe mocks its enemy by wearing iron masks so that their victims never see the faces of their killers.
The Tribe of the Eagle boasts numerous Shamans, far more than all the other tribes combined. They are capable of spirit walking and communing with Daemons in their steep. The most powerful of them will cross the Mountains of Dusk and seek to become Chaos Sorcerers.
Each year the tribe returns to its holy places to perform the rites of the Eagle, chaining prisoners to cliffs so that the blood eagles that inhabit the mountains can come to feed on their flesh. These prisoners are often former allies who the tribe have betrayed, as this sort of sacrifice is believed to please the Great Eagle above all others.
THE CROW TRIBE
The Great Carrion Crow is a terrifying god: a gigantic, flightless skeletal bird, its rotting flesh riven with diseases and maggots writhing in its belly. This is the form in which the Chaos god known as Nurgle chooses to show himself to the tribesmen of the north. The Marauders of the Crow believe that the flight of a crow tells of death: of eyes without life, of the slow lingering end of agonizing wounds. The Marauders of the Crow tribe are grim men, finding the fulfillment they seek in the horrors of battle. It is their belief that suffering and misery are enjoyable things. They carry heavy flails into battle, caring little if they strike their own warrior brothers as well as their enemies.
The wind often blows from the north, bringing all sorts of plagues and diseases with it. Suffering a plague is considered a deed that pleases their patron god, so when word of a new disease reaches them, they pray that they too will be blessed by their god. Miraculously, many of the tribesmen survive these ordeals and are even strengthened by them.
Those that are captured by the Tribe of the Crow are tortured to death. While this goes on, the pitiless Barbarians encourage the poor unfortunates to suffer in silence, as their god approves of those who accept their fate. After that they are buried deep, often still alive. This is not done out of respect, but because the earth below is seen as the domain of the Crow god and the soul of the damned prisoner will be consumed by the god of pestilence as he slowly rots below the ground.
TRIBE OF THE MIGHTY SERPENT
The Clan of the Serpent is the youngest and also the smallest of the great clans, but their numbers are growing. The Serpent god is mysterious and exotic, and thus draws a great number of new recruits. The Serpent is, of course, Slaanesh.
The clansmen of the Serpent indulge themselves in all sorts of debauchery. Eating hallucinogenic plants such as mushrooms and certain roots is especially common, and the visions granted by these are regarded as signs from the Great Serpent himself. Such are the pleasures offered by the Serpent god, that joining this vigorous new tribe is a great temptation for the young warriors of other tribes, who seek change in their lives.
Before battle the tribesmen of the Serpent brew an intoxicating liquid that renders them almost completely oblivious to pain and fear, making them laugh in the face of even the greatest dangers. The warriors of the tribe sing as they go to war, and scream ululating battle cries, frightening to hear and pleasing to the ears of their god. The tribesmen of the Serpent are daring and skillful horsemen and they use cavalry in battle more than any other tribe.
The Great Serpent lives in the sea, and it is said that he can sometimes be seen rising from the depths to consume young maidens and youths. Water is his element, and many of his followers cast themselves down from the Cliffs of Woe to join their god. Prisoners are thrown down from the cliffs as well - often tied to a large stone to persuade them to travel deeper in search of the Great Serpent.
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