Now is the time of Khazrak! They call me cunning, they call me the One-Eye! I call me Beastlord of all! Twisted beyond recognition and far beyond any vindication, the beastmen are the true Children of Chaos. Unruly, coarse and foul, these savage warriors hurl themselves into battle with primal rage. These warped hybrids of wild beasts and primitive humans wage war against all the civilized races of the world. Order is anathema to them and they seek to burn down entire cities, to trample under their hooves the bright banners that represent the Empire of Man and bring down their walls. The Children of Chaos, or else known as The Cloven Ones, are present in almost all places of the world. Hiding under the shadows and always stalking their prey, the beastmen are ready to go to war, united under a massive brayherd, they run with deep hatred, seeking only to bring ruin and an age of slaughter. Bellowing, braying and screaming, the Cloven Ones sound their brash horns as they quickly cover ground. The beast-horde has opened its jaws and is roaming far and wide. Before we dive into the dark forests to explore more about the Children of Chaos, we’d like to thank Darkworld Studios for sponsoring this video. Currently the studio is having a Kickstarter going for the development of their latest project: Acheron. It is a 1930’s era Grimpunk tabletop role-playing game where you must sacrifice your humanity to fight against the evils of the world. Drawing inspiration from historical events, The Witcher videogames, the art style of Dishonored, cosmic horror stories and SCP Foundation, Acheron features dynamic gameplay aimed to offer a deep narrative experience with an equal focus on roleplay and deadly combat, character defining merits and flaws, a dynamic sanity system, and consequences to deal with. All with unique races and settings to game on. If you want to know more about this game and even influence its development though the ongoing Kickstarter, please make sure to check out the link in the description below. Gather warherds Hunt man-filth Kill man! The earth is old, and ancient history is but a story narrated by the elders. The collective memory of the inhabitants of this tainted world is marked with the distant dreams and legends of the Old Ones; wise and evolved beings with powers beyond any comprehension. Legends speak of their travels in the ancient times from above the sky and beyond the stars. Their Great Plan for this world remained unknown, but it was they who created the astral gates at the poles of the Earth. The Old Ones shaped life; the ice melted, mountains shifted, and new races came to being while the unwanted forms of life had vanished forever. Then one day, all was changed when the mysterious gates collapsed onto themselves, creating a blast of energy that tore rifts from the heart of the world to the realms far beyond. This pivotal event is known as The Great Catastrophe and through those shattered gates the Chaos winds first blew into the world. Meteors rained, the ground bled and mysterious warpstone dust covered the air. Many creatures suddenly began twisting and mutating with the sudden flow of that new magic. The thunderous and incomprehensible energies of the raw powers of Chaos were unbounded and once the doom fell upon the world, the Old Ones vanished into the unknown, leaving the creatures of the world behind and in the claws of a despicable fate. In the darkness and the instability that brought the unleashed Chaos powers, the primitive humans of the world and the beasts of the forests blended in unnatural ways. Into the eerie woods a warped progeny was born, the Beastmen, howling as wild beasts but with the intelligence of a primitive man. And from those woods their roots grew, in the times of old they were to rule the lands. The arrival of Chaos left a stain in the Warhammer world that was never to be fully cleansed. The raw evil was most powerful around the broken northern gate. Inconceivable magical influences emitting strange colors turned the Northern plains into the Realm of Chaos. Other creations of Chaos; mutated creatures and Daemons drifted close to this source, never straying too far South. These abominations drew life from Chaos itself, dependent on its mystic powers and without a will of their own. To wonder too far north into the Chaos Wastes, is to lose not only ones’ body but also the mind, as reality breaks apart and things such as gravity, shape, space and reason begin to twist and change as they are in flux and utterly mutable to the will of the Chaos Gods. But as one goes south, the energies of Chaos dwindle and the creatures that rely upon it fail to grasp the full essence of its life force, becoming weaker and weaker as they venture further away from the source of Chaos. But the Children of Chaos, the Beastmen were different. The twisted Chaos energies created the world they were born in, yet their minds were as free to roam the world as their hooves. They lurked in the depths of the dark forests and ran wild in the open fields unchallenged. Humans were nothing but soft flesh and bone to be chewed and grinded in the mouths of the Cloven Ones. For thousands of years the Beastmen ruled the forests and the lands, preying upon the scattered bands of primitive men as wolves upon sheep. Day and night they chased one another as the humans hid from the guttural sound of their howling and the beat of their dirty hooves. Yet, there came a day when a mighty Godlike being wielding a golden hammer appeared and began to unite the sparse tribes of man together into a single Empire, challenging the dominion of the beastmen over the lands. This man later became widely known as Sigmar Heldenhammer. The unchallenged days of the beastmen were no more, for the bowing days of men were over. The new order of the world was not greeted fondly by the Cloven Ones, yet the odds of victory were forlorn. The tighter the tribes of men embraced one another, the stronger they became. Stone by stone, the civilization of men and the Empire rose from the ground. Forts and bridges were built, armies were formed and the technology designed by the brightest of them enhanced the progress of civilization. Helpless against the rising order, the beastmen fell back into the darkness of the forests. Neither did they forget their place high on the food chain, nor the human kind that reaped undeserving power. Their hatred grew roots so deep and strong that a ghastly vengeance was sworn to abolish the human race and all they had built. The time would come when the night falls, and finally after centuries, the beastmen would reclaim their stolen place at the top of the food chain. Waiting for the sign of their Chaos Gods, they lurk in the cover of shadows, in the mist of the gloomy forests to spy, scheme and attack. For the humans, the stories of old became horrid legends to be remembered during long nights. What was once history became forgotten and turned into raw fear itself. Fear of the deep forests, the unseen beasts and the unknown. Yet the fear is real, for the Children of Chaos are not gone, they are covered in the dark and the night is falling... The twisted existence of the beastmen is distant from any life form created by the natural flow of things. The most common breeds carry a goat or a bull head above their abominable bodies. The horns grow from a hard brow, the muscled cattle legs carry a man-like upper body as their cloven hooves trample the ground. The rough hair coating their filthy bodies is covered with dried up blood, feces and vomit that emits a vile scent. The sole naked body of a beastmen is a brutal weapon on its own. In the mind of the beast, anything that resembles order, creation and civilization is to be wrecked, chewed and spitted out. With every beat of his tainted heart, his blood boils with rage and the beast is ecstatic to tear and ravage. The beast’s wicked heart holds no honor, decency or kindness. They don’t kill for their survival; they do it mostly for pleasure, revenge and hatred. Their free-willed actions of resentment and loathe align with the will of Chaos and serve a grim purpose. The beastmen are easy to infuriate and even with kinship, the lust for a fight is never satiated. Many of their violent bickering ends up with someone gutted and ripped open, subsequently becoming a rather tasteless meal to the others. In the barbaric world of these Children of Chaos, life is short and grim. Even the dark gods they worship seem to favor them the least. Only a few beastmen are gifted with magical capabilities or other intricate privileges. However, sometimes the deed of a beast is so horrible and destructive that the eyes of the Chaos Gods turn and see a reward fitting. Such extremely violent acts earn the creature a physical advantage to make him even more deadly and rank him higher in his tribe. Curses upon their most savage beasts are accepted gladly as kingly gifts by the fellow beastmen who look up to the mutated gifts and deformities in admiration. Such dreadful features can take any horrid form, from claws as sharp as blades, skin that sweats poison and hornlike blades sprouting from the beasts’ chest, to unnatural and extravagant horns that define their place within the warherd. Various breeds of beastmen live together in clans called Warherds, which range from a few dozen beasts to thousands of them. The rules of survival are barbaric and savage within such gatherings. The hierarchy is established with fang and fist, and it is solely the most vicious who finds a place to thrive. One is quick to find their own place within such barbaric warherds. The strongest, the most brutal of beasts within the herd moves to be the apex predator, the chieftain or Wargor of the pack. They care not how their underlings are fed or how disputes are settled. The only thing any Wargor concerns himself with is with battle. His banner is a totem adorned by the bloody pelts of his enemies and failed challengers It is the manifestation of his place as the leader and a warning to others yearning to climb the ladder. Yet, his supremacy is nothing but abiding as it is certain that the day will come when his own hide will be flayed by a stronger beast to be hung on the new chieftain’s totem. Within the superstitious society, if it can even be called that, the beasts believe in gaining the valor of the strong by feeding on flesh. When a Chieftain falls dead in battle, a feast is held by his followers. The highest ranking beastmen of the warherd devour the rests of the once mighty Wargor, but the heart of the fallen is only for the new Chieftain to gorge. Stillness and calm do not exist within a Warherd, yet, the madness especially reaches a climax when the Chaos Moon of Morrslieb is full upon the sky. Under the morose green light, the gore and impurity are so extreme as if the earth is ripped open and hell itself is loose. As Bray shamans chant and nightmarish howls can be heard all across the forests, much blood is shed and new twisted progeny is spawned during such unholy nights. Beastmen bands are not of stagnant nature; they move around the dark corners and spread to the furthest ends of the world from the hills of the Middle Mountains to the forests of Black Deeps. The ancient maze-like paths they follow in the deep heart of the thick green lead them to their temporary camping grounds. Different herds clash regularly to occupy the most ideal places of the vast forests which offer the best shelter where the undergrowth doesn’t reap a beam of sunlight. Such struggles are common as the Chieftains of two Warherds need no convoluted argument to start bashing their horns until one falls dead. Merely the decision of which tribe moves away on a small Beast-Path to make way for the other is a reason enough to come to blows. Graktar is lame! His time is over! Put him on ground, let him feed worms! Now is the time of Khazrak! Beastmen set up their camps close to ancient standing stones called the Herdstones. These are considered sacred by the beasts and many bloody rituals take place around such structures to please the dark gods. Herdstones grow out of ancient meteors that once gave rise to the beastmen breeds and are hidden in the darkest, most overgrown parts of the woods where strange magical energies flow heavily. Hills of bones and rusty blades piled up around these strange rocks force one’s mind to imagine the sinister offerings and sacrifices that take place within these grounds. The makeshift camps of these hellish beasts offer no comfort or rest. The strongest breeds along with the chieftain occupy the best places closest to the fire where they fill their bellies with raw meat and drink looted wine. The weak does not last long against the harrowing bullying of the tougher beasts and must brawl with the warhounds for the scraps. Sooner or later, many perish due to the cold and hunger if not they fall prey to their own hungry kin. Beastmen see the Old World as their own blood-grounds to hunt and everything that walks on their territory as their rightful prey. Be they forest goblins, humans or the stealthy wood elves. War and violence is the sole law the Cloven Ones abide by and the purpose they draw breath for. Each victory against men, dwarfs or elves, whether by plundering a village or waging battle in an open field, is a deed to satisfy their own bloodlust and to please the Ruinous Powers. Isolated bands of beastmen attack the human encampments and even settlements regularly, but to bring catastrophe and terror to organized armies, they come together in gatherings of enormous and terrifying magnitude. Such meetings are called by a Chieftain who means to bind all the Warherds of a region into a massive force, called a Brayherd, to obey his terrible will. The chieftain almost always waits until his Bray-Shaman advises him of the right time to call out the warherds. It takes a foolish Chieftain to dismiss the counsel of a Bray-Shaman for he is the bridge between the tribe and the Ruinous Powers, the cursed mouth through which the Dark Gods speak their wills. Once the Chieftain believes he has the blessings of Chaos, a lurid ritual takes place for which a giant pyre is built. Bray-Shamans feed the fire with plants grown in the sour earth of the magical forest and the burning flames rise to the skies. Fumes move through the winding paths of the forest and fire up the frenzy and the bloodthirst within the hearts of all the beastmen around. As the menacing cries and growls echo in the forest, the warherds are all drawn to the caller of war. When the frantic crowd gathers at the braysite, the calling Chieftain is yet to prove his right to lead the brayherd and earn the ruling of the gathered host. Other Chieftains who desire the same dominance challenge him one by one in a ruthless duel until only one of them remains. The victor rips the still beating heart of his challenger out whilst the beasts all cheer around them. When the duels are over and the shamans bless the beastlord, madness of unseen kind takes over. Shamans sing dreadful melodies as the drums roll and the lust for blood arouses. Captured enemy soldiers are offered as a sacrifice to the Chaos powers and bound to the herdstones. Screams of excruciating pain blend with the wild roars of the beastmen until dawn breaks. That is the time for the horde to march ahead. War is a calamity of the worst kind as it is, yet, facing a horde of beastmen is very much alike confronting primal fear itself. Standing one’s ground against a full brayherd in frenzy is a testament of courage of the rarest kind. A brayherd is formed by all kinds of beastmen that seem to have crawled out of hell fires through the cracks on earth. Even without the sight of the massive herd, the horrid symphony of screeching, warcries and the dire sounds of warhorns penetrate the ears. As the ground quivers with the discordant trampling of a thousand hooves, the blood dripping banners made of flayed skin are spotted from afar. As to sow fear into the hearts of the enemies, wicked symbols and colliding skulls are displayed. The proud beastlord stands in the front accompanied by tremendous Bestigors who will not halt until slain. As they hit the enemy head on, Gors and Ungors surround and ambush the unexpecting sidelines of the enemy army. Along the brayherd an army of hulking Minotaurs charge ahead. Aroused by the smell of fear and an uncontrollable craving to feed, even the smaller beastmen being trampled under their hooves fail to slow their raging charge. As physical vigor defines the ranks, breeds that are blessed with prodigious size, sharp fangs and large horns almost always dominate the tribe. Nothing is valued higher than spectacular horns to such extent that a beast without horns is not even accepted as true beastmen within the tribe. Vigorous and massive, Gors form the majority of the beastmen tribes. Their appearance has a wide spectrum of terrible forms it can take, but whether large or small, they all carry horns. Best of their kin possess glorious horns that are tokens of their supremacy within the herd. Some horns either grow straight like a goat’s or curled like a ram’s. The most inferior of them all are the petty Ungors who lack impressive features of other Gors due to which they endure much suffering. Besides their smaller size and plain, spike-like horns, they also resemble humans the most. Ungors know to bow before their higher brethren and have almost no chance to gain superiority over them. This bitterness feeds fuel to an already violent nature, making them even more ambitious in the battle fields and cruel with the captured enemies. Suffering beyond contempt awaits the captives in the hands of Ungors as they are given neither mercy nor a quick death. Although never recognized by the rest of the Warherd, Ungors fill practical roles such as craftsmanship, if it can even be called that, and scouting. As the beastmen lack the patience and skills to craft their own weaponry, they are entirely acquired by robbing corpses and raiding enemy camps. It is the Ungors who fix and adjust such looted material to suit the crooked frames of the beastmen. Many of the Ungor possess fine wilderness skills which are put to good use during raids and battles. Scouting Ungor Raiders move ahead of the marching warherd and inform the Chieftain of the enemy ahead. It is the important information they provide that the Chieftain uses to plan basic attack strategies such as encircling the foes and blocking escape routes. When a band of Ungol Raiders discover small settlements on their scouting duties, they might decide to plunder it before the warherd catches up. Such quick raids leave townsmen slaughtered or captured and their houses in flames. Under the rule and the will of the beastmen Chieftain, some Beastmen are privileged to be in the inner circle and rank higher than the rest of the pack. Such status is earned either due to physical superiority or religious importance within the tribe. The Gors with towering heights and grandiose horns make up the elite within the warherd called the Bestigors, and pledge themselves to the Beastlord. Bestigors are an utterly aggressive bunch and inflict unthinkable brutalities towards the weaker kind. Their bodies are armored with forcefully fitted plates made out of spoils of war and wield the best weapons the warherd can lay hands on. In comparison to the rest of the beastmen, they attack in a sturdy order on the battlefield. Once in motion, their two-sided axes swing with such a brutal force that the skulls of their startled opponents effortlessly split in half. Bray-Shamans are the exceptions to the hierarchy established by the sheer strength as none who fears the Gods dares to challenge them. They were born into dark magic and cast it to guide the Chieftain in his mission to bring doom upon the race of man. Just as the Chieftain seeks the leader of the enemy army to slay, a Bray-Shaman knows no greater pleasure than hunting and butchering the priests of man in the field of battle and then laying waste to their altars. Besides the blended warherds, there are also beastmen breeds that live within their own packs and join the warherd once the steam of freshly spilled blood fills their snouts. Minotaurs are phenomenally massive and malign breed that is solely driven by a hunger impossible to sate. They are beastly warriors with an appalling bull’s head and seem to stand as high as a mountain next to a common man. Their hunger for raw meat and fresh blood is obscure and almost impossible for any living creature to fully comprehend. Minotaurs live nomadic lives within isolated tribes and travel afar in search of flesh to gorge. Particularly the Forest of Shadows keeps countless numbers of Minotaur tribes ruled by the strongest of their kind. Their affairs are even a bit of a mystery to the other beastmen who dread and respect them. It is believed that minotaurs guard the tombs of the Chaos champions, lurking in shadows so dark that even other beastmen don’t dare to skulk in. Some of the Minotaurs are praised above their kin by the Dark Powers and are given a Great Mark of Chaos. Minotaurs that are recognized in such a manner by Chaos are named Doombulls and are the most violent and dangerous of their kind. Their appearance can take many distinguished forms such as blood red fur, horns coated with metal and skin full of boils. Some of them even possess a crackling layer of energy around them. The grotesque look of the Doombulls is sometimes amplified with trophies hammered into the skin and hung on the twisting horns. Such marks are a tribute to the particular Chaos Lord they worship. On terrible nights when the moon of Morrslieb shines full, bloodgreed boils within a Doombull. As their roar and growl cut the thick air, all the minotaurs stomp the grounds and come out of their lairs to gather at the herdstones. Their bloodthirst is so extreme and contagious that such madness evokes the lust for flesh in all beastmen around them as well. The hysteric and petrifying noises rising from the forest startle men and women afar. Maddened with the anticipation of feeding, an army of minotaurs come out of the forest as a storm and lay waste to all that stands on their path. Walls are smashed to the ground and anyone found cowering behind them are put down and feasted on. Then the horde returns to the darkness of the woods with their appetites glutted for a time, leaving only ruin behind. With the hope of grasping a piece of meat, all manners of Children of Chaos linger around the encampments of a warherd. Chaos Warhounds are beasts resembling wolfs, yet their malice is not to be confused with the feral demeanor of nature’s predator. Their eyes shine as they stalk prey in the deep woods, and their mouths water with the smell of flesh. Before battles, the beastmen capture packs of warhounds and let them starve for days. Until once the time arrives, the crazed hounds are released to feast on the foes. On the treetops above the gathered warherds, one can find strange creatures with leather wings and figures alike human women. These are called Harpies. Their nests are a common sight in the caves of the Northern Wastes and Troll Country. However, being scavengers, shadowing the beastmen warherds presents many feeding opportunities. Especially during a battle, they can be seen flying over a charging warherd as there is surely a feast to be had soon enough. The beastmen are amongst the most savage of all races in the Warhammer world and they surely are a unique faction that seeks only to kill and plunder, to show mankind that they are the true predators at the top of the food chain. Many legendary characters have been known to lead entire brayherds into battle, including Khazrak the One-Eye, Malagor the Dark Omen or Morghur the Shadowgave. We will explore more about them in future episodes as each has their own characteristics and unique stories. But for now, we need to leave this wicked forest as more and more beastmen are coming out of the shadows and getting closer to our scouting party. We hope you have enjoyed this lore presentation. Let us know in the comments what have been your own experiences with the Cloven Ones and how you have dealt with them in your own adventures and battles. "They’re in the woods, you know. Always there. Any time you go in the woods, chances are you’re no more than a few leagues from a Beastmen camp. Mostly ’ey just takes foresters and charcoal burners, but every so often a band of ’em will come out of the trees and take a village or a town, burning and killing and looting.." Hello my friends! It’s Choyer here. I hope you enjoyed this latest episode. It was a blast for me to make as the Beastmen are one of my top three Warhammer fantasy races in the world. Before anything else, I want to give a special thanks to Skrubasauras for a once again amazing performance with the voice acting. Also, thanks to all of you guys for watching the content, for sharing and commenting on these videos, it really helps a lot and I truly appreciate your support. Thanks to Darkworld studios for sponsoring this video, it’s always nice to be able to find and work together with fellow creators who are doing amazing things and being able to share their unique projects with you guys is very cool. They are coming up with this amazing new game so why not check them out. So talking a bit about the beastmen, I was very thrilled when I read that many of you wanted to learn a bit more about the Children of Chaos in particular as they are one of my favorite races. Maybe because one of the very first Warhammer minis I saw were these guys. There was this massive beastmen army on display on the tabletop in one of the GamesWorkshop stores I visited a while back… and I think there’s something really unique about staring at a beautifully fully painted army ready for battle. In this case they were facing an equally impressive army of Bretonnian Knights. I didn’t stick around long enough to watch the battle unfold but I do remember going to the Games workshop store after my classes back when I was living in Canada and I would spend an hour or two just staring at the amazingly crafted and painted models, asking about their lore and trying to figure out if I preferred Warhammer Fantasy or Warhammer 40k. Now, getting back to the video, for this particular episode, we had a custom illustration made by Cameron Bye. Cameron has made a couple of artworks for the channel before, including an awesome Queek Headtaker Illustration and another one for the Grimgor & The Black Orcs episode. I really loved how this artwork came to be. Cameron shared the process and you can see how it began going from a simple sketch to the full finished version. I think it really captures the essence of what makes the beastmen so savage and tribal, fully devoted to the Ruinous Powers. I hope you enjoyed that piece of art and again, kudos to Cameron for making it possible. This is also possible thanks to the amazing subscribers that support the channel either through Patreon or with a Youtube channel membership. I’m really grateful for your support as it really counts towards making better content. If you also want to help the channel in that particular way, you can do so by checking the links in the description below. There you will be able to get some unique perks like access to our Discord server, being listed in the credits, having early-access to the full finished videos before release and so on. So to wrap this up I want to leave you with an audio take from Skrubasauras, as he was trying to voice a line from the Har Ganeth Executioners video, one of our recently released episodes. There are some sentences and lines out there that sometimes need a few tries to get them right. I hope you enjoyed this video my friends and see you in the next one.
