Something stirs in the deep dark forests of The Old World. Between the twisted trunks, the Beastlords grow restless with an all-consuming battle-thirst. They gather to them great Warherds of barbarous, bestial fiends, forged in the Time of Chaos; dark amalgams of human intelligence, animal cunning and raw, reckless ferocity. As The Beastmen emerge from their woodland lairs, ten thousand hooves stamp in agitated union, and a foetid musk arises from the sea of matted fur. The bray of the battle-h... развернуть
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