Hey folks, we recently revealed the Waaagh!-filled cover for Warhammer Age of Sigmar Soulbound: Champions of Destruction, and Producer Elaine Lithgow spoke about what to expect in the upcoming supplement. Today, we’re wading into the mist-shrouded mires ruled by the kunnin’ Kruleboyz to reveal some new Archetypes!
All Kruleboyz artwork illustrated by Álvaro Jiménez.
You stab your enemies to watch them squirm, snickering as you twist your spear in the wound.
Gutrippaz are the Kruleboyz’s rank and file, but there’s a big difference between a yoof who barely knows how to hold a stikka and a champion Gutrippa with dozens of raids to their name. Gutrippaz are defined by their tools: the stikka and the skareshield. Stikkas are jagged spears, easily crafted from scrap metal, twine, and a loose branch, which keep the Gutrippa’s foes at a safe distance while making dirty, shallow cuts to draw out their suffering. Skareshields, painted to look like Ghur’s greatest predators, can terrify dim-witted monsters and befuddled soldiers alike into submission.
Gutrippaz use Scare Taktikz to terrify their enemies before charging them down to skewer them with their stikkas.
You swindle and deal among the realms’ unsavoury societies, until it’s time to grab your slitta-knife and line up in formation.
Most Hobgrots are more merchants than warriors, but no one who follows Gorkamorka can avoid the fight forever. When an Orruk clobbers a group of Hobgrots into submission, roaring that they’re joining the Waaagh! and they’re going to like it, the Hobgrots quickly form ranked lines. The profits of their trading prove useful here, for every Hobgrot goes to battle with a slitta-knife, as well as Duardin-sourced ‘bangstikks’ which poison and ignite their foes.
Hobgrot Slittaz never forget a debt, and they call in favours to gain the upperhand amongst more brutal creatures. Many in the realms dread the smirking grin of a Hobgrot as they whisper “You Owe Me…”
You kill from a distance, picking the first enemies off with quick shots before finishing the rest at your leisure.
Even in an art as old as krumping gits, there’s always room for innovation. Many Ironjawz don’t consider shooting a crossbow very Orruky, and many Freeguilders scoff at the idea of an Orruk sharpshooter. Both fall silent quickly when the Man-Skewer Boltboyz raise their crossbows, usually because they’ve got a two-feet-long bolt protruding through their uppity mouth and out the back of their skull. Boltboyz, who form the bulk of the ranged specialist Deffspikerz tribe, delight in putting their bolts through their targets’ legs or nailing them to tree trunks, but when pressured they can also kill swiftly and immediately.
Man-Skewer Boltboyz use their deadly crossbows to target distant enemies and Pick ‘Em Off before they get too close.
The foremost bruiser among the Kruleboyz, you take the heads of your enemies and cut the tongues from their mouths.
Murknobs are champion warriors, given prestige and favour by their Killabosses due to their past victories. Only the most veteran among them can carry the belcha-banna, an enchanted battle standard shaped like a giant, fanged mouth. The belcha-banna’s putrescent, flapping tongue is authentic, typically harvested by the Murknob from a Mire-drake and enchanted by the Swampcallas to bellow like the creature it came from when the Waaagh! sparks green around it. This supernatural roar is so powerful that it can even shred apart spells, all while turning the stomachs of anyone downwind. Should the Murknob ever need a new tongue, they always have a cleaver handy.
Murknobs carry cleavers and terrifying belcha-bannas into combat, and many of them worship the mighty Kragnos, the End of Empires.
Conjuring lung-searing mists and brewing flesh-melting concoctions, you spread the swamps wherever you walk.
Swampcalla Shamans have wholeheartedly embraced the mire. They spend their idle time submerged in brackish water, feeding on sludge-snakes and toadspawn, and they can taste a swamp from miles away on their pustule-encrusted tongues. Though fueled by the Waaagh!, their hexes are deliberate and refined, polluting air, water, and souls alike with noxious, effluvial energies. And while Swampcallas have an innate connection to the land, they don’t soothe the geomantic spirits with their presence. Instead, they bully, harangue, and tease the ley lines until the region weeps itself into a wetland, and semi-sentient mist blankets their new homes.
Swampcallas harness the cloying magical power of the Swamp, calling upon their Pot-Grot to aid them as they brew poisonous concoctions in their vile cauldrons.
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