《战锤：西格玛时代》

ORDER

Empire builders, colonists and settlers of the Mortal Realms, these disparate factions vie for power and control but are united in their hatred of Chaos.

Stormcast Eternals

The heavens roar and the sky itself is rent by searing bolts from above. With a flash of lightning and rolling thunderclap the gleaming warhosts of the Stormcast Eternals arrive for battle. Their weapons wreathed in crackling arcs of lightning, the Stormcasts launch their assault. It is as swift as it is brutal. Heavy warhammers rise and fall, a shield-shattering onslaught that batters down all who stand before it.

With the coming of Sigmar's finest warriors, the scions of Chaos have been hurled back on a hundred fronts, and the seeds of new civilisations planted in the lands reclaimed. Martial, tribal, made for war, the Stormcast Eternals are terrifying foes, and their allies are often as thunderstruck as their enemies by the violence and slaughter they unleash.

The Stormcast Eternals are demigods clad in gleaming sigmarite armour. Each one was once a mighty, mortal warrior whose soul was plucked from their moment of death and Reforged on the Anvil of Apotheosis by the God-King himself - transformed into immortal heroes of the heavens and sworn to protect the Mortal Realms from the depredations of Chaos.

When they die - and die they do, for the Mortal Realms are full of terrors - their souls return to Azyr to be Reforged anew. They pay a hefty price for this immortality, as their souls erode with each Reforging, slowly losing shreds of their humanity and memories of their mortal lives.

Despite this, the Stormcast Eternals fight on to secure a future for the God-King's faithful, the will of the Heldenhammer made manifest. They fight for Sigmar, for Order and for vengeance.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZSiQ8lG0fs

Cities of Sigmar

The Cities of Sigmar are great beacons of hope amidst the darkness of the Mortal Realms, bastions of civilisation built to safeguard ordinary folk from the many monstrous threats that lurk beyond their sturdy walls.

For the Freeguilds of the Cities of Sigmar, battling these horrors is a terrible necessity - these brave men and women must fight for the survival of their embattled metropolises in an increasingly hostile world.

Alongside aelves, duardin, and even ogors they march out on Dawnbringer Crusades to restore order to the realms, found new cities, and drive back the foul forces of Chaos that have claimed the Mortal Realms since the end of the Age of Myth.

What they lack in supernatural power, improbable bulk, or chaotic gifts, they more than make up for with diligence, faith, and doctrine. With shields and weapons in hand, they wage a tireless war to reclaim long-lost homelands and secure their future.

When they wage war, they do so as a reflection of their walled homesteads, taking to the battlefield in a Castelite formation - impregnable walls made up of rows of Freeguild Fusiliers with stout shields, Fusil-Majors on Ogor Warhulks flanking as watchtowers and armoured bulwarks, and a mighty Ironweld Greatcannon as the gatehouse. The clash of steel and the crack of black powder echo across the realms as great hosts of soldiery fight under the fluttering heraldry of their cities.

Lumineth Realm-lords

The Lumineth Realm-lords are perspicacious paragons who present a gleaming template for all other mortals to follow. These effortlessly superior aelves bring enlightenment to the realms, driving out corruption with blade and sorcery and striving for true perfection. Born during the Age of Myth, they inherited the Ten Paradises of Hysh and all the wisdom of their creators, the twin gods Tyrion and Teclis.

This life of illumination was not always so, and the Lumineth Realm-lords are tainted by a tragedy that is still felt to this day. Living in pursuit of excellence and prestige, they yearned to master the most powerful sorceries in existence, until friendly rivalries gave way to an arms race that unleashed weapons powerful enough to wound the very fabric of reality. Kith and kin turned terrible magics of annihilation upon one another, in a tragedy known as the Spirefall. Their hubris, arrogance, and unchecked avidity left them susceptible to the cloying influence of Slaanesh, and the Lord of Excess in turn fed deeply on their bitter, all-consuming war. Daemons of the Dark Prince streamed into Hysh through the scars in reality, revelling in wanton slaughter.

Teclis, determined to rescue his children, taught them how to commune with the Realm of Hysh to help heal its deep wounds, and how to temper their emotions through rigorous spiritual self-conditioning. He did not solve his children's tragedy on his own - it was only through communing with Celennar, the Spirit of the Hysh, that he found the answer to their woes. Rather than pursuing enlightenment through mastery of their reality, the Lumineth would instead put the needs of Hysh first, seeking counsel from geomantic entities known as the aelementors, living a life not of domination but of sustainable co-existence.

As the Lumineth drove the daemons of Slaanesh out of Hysh, the spirits of the land - its rivers, winds, mountains, and even satellites - began to mellow. Aelementiri temples were formed where the most devout aelves could go to study, drinking deep of the knowledge of the realm spirits, and learning to wield their elemental powers against Chaos.

When working in harmony, the Lumineth Realm-lords are a power beyond equal, but the path to repair what their arrogance wrought is an arduous one, and only by spreading light to the rest of the realms may they fully atone for their sins.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2qvnXI5ijA

Daughters of Khaine

Fighting under the banner of Order, there are some who revel in the bloodshed of combat. They are the Daughters of Khaine - gladiators, priests, and killers, and among the staunchest opponents of Chaos across the Mortal Realms. From their shrouded temples in deepest Ulgu, the Daughters of Khaine launch their assaults, relentlessly hunting the hated followers of Chaos and any others who would threaten their burgeoning shadow empire.

Khaine, the ancient aelven god of battle, was said to have been destroyed by the Chaos gods - a claim vehemently denied by the matriarchal aelf cult. The Cult of Khaine has existed since the first days of the Age of Myth, but where once it was a pitiful congregation worshipping the shade of a dead god, under High Oracle Morathi's control it bloomed across the Mortal Realms. With enclaves in almost every city, its followers were nurtured by Morathi to serve as her power base.

After countless centuries of plotting and strife, the cunning sorceress Morathi achieved her ultimate desire: the power of a true deity. No longer Khaine's High Oracle, she claims to have absorbed the lingering essence of the god himself.

This revelation has only furthered her already immense power, and it has driven the Khainite cult into a frenzy of conquest and sacrifice. Even those who once called the Daughters of Khaine allies are not safe from their reignited holy war. Like a whirlwind of pale flesh and razor-keen knives, these warrior aelves sweep across the land, leaving carnage in their path.

Cauldrons of Blood are filled to the brim with the fresh gore of the slain as crimson-smeared Hag Queens lead their flock in frenzied worship of their bloody-handed mistress. Once hidden away from the world, the misshapen forms of Scáthborn warriors - bat-winged Khinerai and slithering Melusai - are now let loose to indulge their cruel lust for slaughter.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MSiSlIXTvPI

Idoneth Deepkin

The oceans of the Mortal Realms do not easily divulge even the least of their secrets. In those unplumbed depths lie wonders untold, sunken treasures and a diversity of creatures beyond count. The greatest of the seas' secrets use layered veils of powerful magics to ensure that none who bear witness to them live to tell the tale.

From out of blackness come the Idoneth Deepkin. Flawed, soul-withered creations of Teclis the Illuminator, they emerge from the depths of the realms' oceans upon a surging tide of magic - an ethersea of roiling currents and crushing pressures.

These merciless raiders do not seek merely to slaughter or enslave, however - they come to take their victims' very souls to be absorbed in a method of soul-transfusion, prolonging the short lifespans of the Idoneth and saving them from sickness, degradation and madness. In their passing, they leave ruin, death and soulless sleepers that will never awaken.

Idolised echoes of a bygone era, Eidolons of Mathlann are summoned to life by the Idoneth Deepkin. These are no divine avatars, but collective manifestations of the ancestral souls of the Idoneth, spirits of vengeance wrapped in the image of a lost aelven god.

As the tide rushes in, swift and unstoppable, so too does it ebb. The Idoneth quickly retreat with their stolen souls, returning to utter isolation beneath the waves.

Sylvaneth

Chaos and corruption gnaw at the Mortal Realms as armies wage vast wars that scorch the land. As the vengeful children of the goddess of Life, the Sylvaneth stand in opposition to any who would defile the natural world.

They owe their existence to Alarielle the Everqueen, a rare aelven survivor of the World-that-Was. Alarielle was awakened in Ghyran when the realms coalesced and infused with divine power. Planting soulpods - rescued aelven soulstuff - in fertile groves across this land, she began to bring her followers back into existence.

As mercurial as the seasons, the Sylvaneth appear capricious and amoral to their more flesh and blood allies among the forces of Order - for they believe the sanctity of nature is paramount. It does not take much to rouse the Sylvaneth to battle; merely trespassing upon their sacred grounds is enough to rouse Dryads and Tree-Revenants from dark thickets, thorned tendrils and shimmering spirit weapons at the ready.

The Sylvaneth are locked in a constant battle for control of Ghyran with the forces of Nurgle, for the Grandfather wishes to turn it into a febrile quagmire of disease. Renewal battles entropy, healing magic fights infection. Where the Nurgle's followers trudge through the Jade Kingdoms, the land writhes and screams at their tainted touch.

Alarielle has assumed her aspect of war, a wrathful harbinger with contempt for her foe. With memories of death and destruction of the World-that-Was scored deeply in their hearts, the Sylvaneth wargroves battle to purge the realms of all those who would threaten them.

Kharadron Overlords

The Kharadron Overlords are masters of the skies, fearless duardin aeronauts who prize profit above all. Driven from their mountain holds during the Age of Chaos, they sail the clouds in steel-clad vessels armed to the teeth with cannons, bombs and bullet-spraying deckguns, matching the raw fury of daemons and monsters with devastating firepower.

Aether-gold - also known as the Breath of Grungni, duardin god of mining and smithing - is the lifeblood of the great Kharadron empire. This lighter-than-air metal holds their cities aloft, fuels their skyships and empowers a great portion of their weaponry.

The Age of Sigmar appeared to herald a time of plenty for the Kharadron sky-ports. The mercantile duardin, true to the Kharadron Code, forged prosperous new contracts and alliances with the forces of Sigmar the God-King that kept a constant stream of gold flooding into their coffers.

From the bustling docks of the Kharadron's floating cities depart gleaming sky-fleets, armed for war and eager to seek out precious new streams of aether-gold. Ironclad ships of the line lead brave ventures into the deadliest corners of the Eight Realms, with sleek escort gunships zipping between the flotilla like pilot fish.

From the decks of their flagships, Kharadron Admirals drive their hearty crews on with promises of unlimited wealth and everlasting fame.

Fyreslayers

Many civilisations thrived during the Age of Myth, but not so the Fyreslayers. Their god, Grimnir, the duardin deity of battle, was lost to them in an epic confrontation with the godbeast Vulcatrix. Grimnir's form was shattered, intermingling with the molten blood of his monstrous slain foe, and cast on winds of fire to scatter across all the Mortal Realms.

However, in the Age of Chaos, one force alone stood strong. The Fyreslayers did not hide, for they were made to be tested in battle. And that is what they sought, marching forth to war as often as they could, hiring themselves out as mercenaries to any who could pay them.

From the magmaholds of Aqshy the Fyreslayers spread, hewing out their own kingdoms and hoarding vast quantities of treasure. Though they were constantly besieged, no foe could penetrate their volcanic sanctums.

They were without allies, for even those that hired them scorned them as greedy sellswords. Misunderstood, mistrusted; to the Fyreslayers it mattered not, for there was a secret hidden in the ur-gold they so aggressively gathered - the very essence of Grimnir himself. With every battle, their furtive and unspoken hope came closer to fruition.

During that terrible Age of Chaos the Fyreslayers proliferated. By flame and fury will they continue to do so in the Age of Sigmar, until their final victory, for such is the binding oath they made to Grimnir.

Seraphon

To some they are the uncompromising, unfeeling vengeance of the heavens. To others they are a race of bloodthirsty reptilian monsters marching forth from the steaming jungles to bring death to those who would intrude upon their sacred grounds. Yet the Seraphon are both these things, and more besides. They are the true children of Azyr, filled with the light of the stars, and they fight to enact a cosmic plan that spans all of creation.

Few understand the Seraphon, for to mortal eyes their wars can seem fickle and strange. They fight not for territory, nor for gold or even the sheer joy of battle. Every action they take is dedicated solely to the destruction of Chaos, every warrior or army sacrificed part of a greater plan.

Such is little comfort to those who die under the heavens-blessed blades of the Seraphon, for the blood of these reptilian creatures runs cold. They are remorseless in carrying out the commands of their masters, the Slann.

In battle the hosts of the Seraphon present a striking image. Hulking warriors with iron-hard scales carve a trail of single-minded destruction, while their smaller, swifter kin burst from every shadow to assail the foe. Marching alongside them are terrifying primeval giants, each fashioned by the Seraphon into a deadly weapon. All these reptilian creatures fight under the command of their celestial priest-lords; these mages cast their eyes to Azyr even as they harness the power of the realms themselves, reading the patterns of the stars.

Though the years grow darker, these most ardent foes of Chaos have not faltered in their duty, and one portent remains clear. The time of deliberation is over. Now comes the age of annihilation.

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