Privateer Posts New Grymkin Previews
The Grymkin are getting ever-closer to your tabletops. This new faction for Hordes harkens back to the very beginning of Privateer Press where many of these creatures appeared in the Monstronomican and the Iron Kingdoms Campaign Setting book. Soon, you’ll be able to control them like never before. Or, just finally have the appropriate mini for when you’re playing an IKRPG game.
From the preview pages:
Keep your eyes sharp evermore
for what lies ’neath that creaking door!
The vile fiends known as trapperkin dwell just out of sight below and behind the magical portals they can create at whim. Be wary, for these grymkin will suddenly throw open an unseen hatch to snatch up victims and drag them back to their hidden lairs. When a trapperkin is near, all must tread carefully—a wrong step could mean vanishing without a trace, stolen away by these deadly lurkers.
Slinking in the shadows upon feet like grasping hands, the horror called the gorehound ranges all across our lands.
The gorehound hunts far and wide at its masters’ bidding. Its long tongue tastes the air for the sweet taint of corruption as it stalks its prey. Once a stonehearted coward falls within its grasp, the gorehound leisurely sups on the victim’s fear and flesh—a just reward for callousness.
Hobbyhorses, severed heads, wielding spears of utmost dread…
Armed with spears and riding grisly hobbyhorses, neigh slayers are gremlins with an outsized appetite for bloody mischief. These obnoxious grymkin scream across the battlefield upon their “steeds” while foes look on in bewilderment. Few understand the peril they face until it is too late, as the neigh slayers trample and impale any foe that crosses their path.
Shake the cage and rattle the bones! From Defiers’ thoughts the Cage Rager comes!
Thunderous and ponderous and ten timbers thick, the Cage Rager stuffs its cells with the bodies of the wicked for its masters’ harvest. Within this confinement their torments mount, and the Cage Rager harnesses their sweet terror to help the Defiers bend the world to their will.
Avoid drunken stumbles and tavern brawls, or these intemperate imps will take you all.
Cask imps are mischievous grymkin that take no greater pleasure than bedeviling drunkards. At the Defiers’ commands, cask imps chaotically hurtle themselves at the enemy to control the flow of battle, albeit in an unpredictable and explosive fashion.
Cowards who flee their posts in war their comrades do betray. Lured by golden lantern light, they die while off astray.
Deserters often follow the alluring glow of a strange lantern as they stumble through the dark—and perish. They rise again as empty husks, stripped of hate and fear. Now they bear rifles and march beneath that lantern in the ranks of the Hollowmen.
Click and clack, bound and leap, these nightmares will their harvest reap!
These grotesque little nightmares may act ridiculous, but they ravenously defend their masters and devour the enemies of the Wicked Harvest. Able to bound in great leaps to land upon their prey, or to spring into harm’s way to protect their otherworldly patrons, crabbits gleefully rend any flesh in reach. If you spy a Defier, you can be sure that a colony of crabbits is near.
A living nightmare of tattered faces that stalks in dark and shadowed places, this charnel figure treads the land with wicked curving blades in hand.
Towering above its victims, Skin & Moans fells mortals with expert slashes, then slices off their faces to stitch them into its own motley skin, where the dead visages continue to moan and groan. These thin, overlapping whispers eerily herald the monster’s approach.
Break my toys and scold me not, my anger burns both bright and hot.
First of the Defiers, the Child wants nothing more than to play and not be told what to do. Accompanied by her companion, Dolly, woe upon the fool who tries to take her grymkin “toys” away or tries to harm her. Only the Child decides what she gets to do—anyone else who tries will be ripped apart like a broken doll in a fit of rage.
Claim the dead and stack the caskets. Save these sots from the maggots.
Creaking corpse carts called death knells follow behind the cursed hordes of the grymkin. The impish coachman rings its somber bell as a warning to all who would dare disrespect the dead, and its toll can be felt as a chill down to the marrow.
The bodies stacked high on the cart contain power of an old and dark sort. These corpses fuel the nightmares and horrors of the grymkin while bolstering their ability to shrug off wounds that would fell mortal folk.