Once one of nine high scholars of the Ventemente Mageocracy in Hysh. He spent most of his life researching into the symbols and meanings of ancient runes from the age of chaos. His main focus was upon the many skulls found in sacrificial pits and temples, etchings on foreheads that were thought to have higher meaning that were lost to time. His findings told of great portents but he was mocked and ridiculed for his strange obsessions with such occult matters.

When a tide of chaos raiders attacked the city, he was denounced as a cursed scholar and having brought doom to their esteemed city. His fellow scholars betrayed him, hoping to oust him from the council and exile him from the city. Their screams echoed the halls of the citadel chambers as he used ancient blood rituals to tear their skulls from their writhing bodies. He had mastered the skull runes and with this, he could control a rift into the chaos realm by the skulls he bore. His journey eventually led him into the ranks of Lord Aichmos, bearing the banner of the blood secrator and bringing the swirling madness of the chaos realm wherever his fetish skulls followed.

The creature known only as Lash the stampede is a strange one. He did not find his way into the ranks of the Bloodtide by martial prowess, but by his ability to inspire. A once slave arena master, he was cruel as he was ugly. A bestial fanged maw bellowed out orders while the traumatic crack of his whips sent hordes of slaves into a bloodthirsty frenzy. As if whipped into a trance by his suicidal commands and the dolorous sting of his barbed whips. He turned hundreds maybe thousands of otherwise craven slaves into an frenzied stampede of flesh and blades.

Seeing his potential, Kron Goretooth enlisted his help into the army of the Bloodtide, now using his whips to send already savage warriors into relentless killing machines. They rush the enemy with reckless abandon, his cracking whips singing in the distance urging them on to ever more bloodshed.

Unknown where he came from or his purpose, this being lives only for slaughter. He has massacred armies by the thousands, rending through flesh and bone as if a farmer’s scythe through a field of grass. He speaks no words and is seen as a menace by many that would call him ally. The only sounds that he makes are guttural noises and malicious laughter when he is deepest in the enemy lines and surrounded by screaming bodies.

He appeared at the Spire one day unannounced, only the scraping sound of his anvil giving him free passage. A skullgrinder is an honoured person to have in a warband, but his place here is as mysterious as his appearance. He is soft spoken and asks little of others, only for any unique weapons and items from enemies to be gathered for him to use as materials for his next projects. What he is after, he will not say. What his goal is, only one can guess. Even to Lord Aichmos or the Slaughterpriests, he remains an enigma, but one thing is certain: his purpose is clear in his mind and he will accomplish the task he has set to do regardless of the cost.