The Ungol Horse-Folk

The Ungols were riding the oblast long before the Gospodars came, a lean and weathered people of horse-nomads who once held the whole of the northern steppe as far as the Troll Country. When the Gospodars conquered the land and founded the Tzardom, the Ungols were folded into the new realm rather than destroyed, and something of their older, wilder way endures in Kislev to this day: in its love of horses, its folk-superstitions, and its hags. They dwell furthest north, closest to the danger, and pay the highest price for it.

Ungols ride light and shoot from the saddle, and their horse archers are without peer among the men of the Old World, able to loose arrow after arrow at a full gallop and wheel away before an enemy can close. They serve as Kislev's scouts and screen, ranging far ahead of the army across ground no southern soldier could survive, watching the passes for the first sign of a Chaos incursion and carrying word south before the storm breaks. Grey-clad, sharp-eyed, and fatalistic, the Ungols expect little from life but a good horse and a clean death, and they meet the horrors of the north with a grim, unhurried courage that shames prouder men.