Generals addicted to prophecy, fortunetelling

An epidemic is sweeping the Realms, laying low warlords of every persuasion. This is no buboe-filled disease of Nurgle’s creation however, but instead a crippling addiction to the act of seeing the future.

The plague has been tracked back to the city of Excelsis, which has long been known for the export of small shards of crystallised prophecy known as glimmerings. Up until now their misuse had mainly centred around the city itself, but its recent assault by Kragnos has devastated the tightly controlled trading regime and resulted in their flooding the market in all Realms. Now generals of every faction have access to the mystical chunks, and many have taken to them with gusto. “The Slaves to Darkness are coming!” is now as common a sound on the streets of Hammerhal as the cries of water-sellers and evangelising priests. 

“It’s not an ideal situation,” confirmed Lord-Imperitant Warom, one of the top war-leaders in Azyr. “Our people are now so obsessed with seeing what’s coming up and arguing over its potential impact that they’ve lost all interest in the here and now.”

Steps are being taken to wean generals off their addiction, with sanctioned seers releasing a prophecy engineered to provide enough information to be interesting without being comprehensive. Although many generals have reacted positively, some are unimpressed and have demanded greater transparency. Sigmar is said to be hesitant, concerned about what knowledge of the upcoming invasion by ▇▇▇▇▇▇ wearing ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇ on ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ will produce in the community.

Cost of living increases prompts Pink Horror to de-split

Tough times all around in the Mortal Realms as individuals from all walks of life struggle under an increased cost of living. Every faction has their story, but the situation is best summed up by the experience of Plin’lo, a Pink Horror who was until recently happily split.

“We just couldn’t handle it,” confirmed Plin’lo, as he capered morosley. “The price of gold bangles, wicked hellfire, and wiggly knives had all increased tenfold while our wages refused to budge. We felt really undermined, you know? A daemon of change with stagnate wages? It’s almost offensive.”

We spoke to some companions who had previously known them as a pair of Blue Horrors, and they all corroborated their sad tale. “A Blue Horror is meant to be grumpy, but they were something else,” described a local Gor. “The decision wasn’t easy for them.”

We approached the office of Tzeentch, Plin’lo’s diabolical overlord, but have yet to receive any response. As we go to print however we’ve received confirmation that Plin’lo has been able to find new employment, taking advantage of the severe shortage of Bastiladon riders to the Seraphon. “I just needed to paint myself blue and wear a fake tail, and I fit right in,” Pin’lo said. “It’s nice to be on the winning team for once.”

Krondspine ownership out of reach for struggling warlords

The manifestion of the Krondspine Incarnate, a living symbol of the ferocity of Ghur, has set the Realms aflame, with generals from all factions discussing the potential benefits of binding one of their very own. However many have been hesitant to join the conversation as they realise that their financial reserves are insufficient to join the party.

“It’s a blow to the ego, that’s for sure,” confirmed a warlord who spoke to us anonymously. “You want to be on the cutting edge of military science and engage with these new developments, but it seems like they are increasingly out of reach.”

The high cost of binding a Krondspine has been put down to the necessity of owning at least several square kilometres of Ghurish real estate, a lack of which will result in the Krondspine refusing to appear. Why this is the case is uncertain, though some have suggested this is a move by Sigmar to encourage his colonisation efforts and create the impression of a booming housing market in the Realm of Beasts.

Wily generals have taken matters into their own hands and begun to construct their own Krondspines, many utilising a magical resin to form a rough approximation. Others have begun lashing bones together with twine and sinew, binding a pair of Ravenak’s Gnashing Jaws to one end to complete the look. Many claim that their creations perform just as well as the real thing, or even better, at a fraction of the cost. What effect this will have on the appearance of future Incarnates, or Ghurish land values, remains to be seen.