No soul walks the Ravaged Coast by accident. The land itself rejects passersby. It demands purpose—hungers for it. Every warband that sets foot upon the ash-choked stone follows a path, though few can name it and fewer still survive to see its end.

They call it the Emberpath.

It begins in the high valleys and furnace-throated passes of the Scorched Outskirts, where emberstone veins writhe beneath cracked earth like glowing serpents. Here, the first battles are fought beneath bloodshot skies and whispering smoke. Old encampments are razed, braziers are lit as beacons or traps, and mountains echo with the clash of iron and ambition. These are not yet wars of conquest. They are wars of proving. Who will endure? Who will rise?

As fire-forged blades are honed in blood, the warbands that survive grow bolder, hungrier. With emberstone shards claimed and reputations carved in flesh, they descend into the heart of the broken world. They reach the Gnaw’s Edge, where the air tastes of madness and the winds carry shrieks not born from any throat. Here, rage is not merely felt—it invades. Skirmishes become sieges, and even the ground turns against its trespassers.

Beyond lies the Hateful Shores, the shattered coastline where the sea boils and the land splinters. Warbands become raiders, hunters, and hunted. Caverns echo with arcane howls. Volcanic craters spill secrets older than the Age of Myth. The very ground pulses with emberstone’s promise—power enough to elevate or annihilate. Those who push this far have tasted glory. Now they seek apotheosis.

And at the terminus of all paths, upon an isle soaked in blood and soot, stands Hel’s Claw. Here there will be war. Not the skirmishes of raiders or the blood-duels of petty claimants—but war, pure and ruinous. The warbands will converge there. They will make landfall beneath warp-lit skies, marching through ruin and wrath toward a final confrontation. Some come to claim the vast emberstone caches. Some seek to burn it all. Others are pulled by forces even they do not understand. 

Whatever the reason, none will leave unchanged. To walk the Emberpath is to gamble one’s soul against the fire.

Of Named Blades and Boundless Ambition¹

Not all who arrive at the Ravaged Coast are nameless scavengers. Some are champions spoken of in prophecy, their deeds long echoing across the realms. Others are stranger still—souls shaped in the crucibles of fate, borne not from bloodlines or battletomes but forged by sheer will, driven by obsessions too vast for mortal ken. 

These are the ones who burn brighter than the rest. Heralded by omens, crowned in self-made myth, they walk the Emberpath with fire in their eyes and the weight of destiny pressing on their backs. Some seek redemption. Others demand dominion. All will be tested.

The Mark of Unreadiness²

The land does not suffer hesitation. The Ravaged Coast is no place for the unarmored soul, the dim torch, the dull blade. Here, the air itself flays those who falter. Banners tattered before battle are burned from the skies. Steel not polished by purpose is left to rust in the blood-wind.

In this place, those who do not prepare are marked. Strange shards hum beneath the surface—slivers of warp-tainted emberstone that pulse when warriors march unfinished into battle. These cursed fragments do not discriminate. They seek out weakness and shatter resolve.

The old scavenger-kings used to say: “To enter the fire half-clothed is to become the kindling.” Those who come to the Emberpath unready will feel the weight of that truth—before the blade even finds them.

When the Ash Hungers³

Even the weakest may sharpen blades in silence. Among the wrecked valleys and burning coastlines, there are whispers—rumors of warbands once thought broken gathering in the dark. They speak in low tones of emberstone vaults unguarded, of overconfident tyrants counting victories before the final blow has fallen.

And so the raids begin.

In the flickering shadow of the Emberpath, vengeance does not wait for permission. Starved by loss and driven by desperation, smaller forces forge uneasy pacts. They do not challenge their foes in open war—they descend upon them like carrion-birds on a wounded beast. Fires are set. Relics stolen. The strong reminded that nothing on the Ravaged Coast is safe for long.

These are not the wars of the mighty. These are the teeth of the desperate. And sometimes, those teeth bite deepest.

The Siege of Hel’s Claw⁴

When the Emberpath reaches its final burning breath, the warbands shall converge upon the broken fortress-isle that watches the coast like a blinded god. They will not come in ones and twos. They will come in force, storming the molten shores, each certain that they alone are meant to stand atop the ruin.

But the Claw does not yield to the bold. It devours them.

The final days shall unfold as a crucible of elimination, each battle more vicious than the last. Only one warband will ascend—crowned in ash, soaked in glory, their name burned into the legend of the Ravaged Coast.

The rest? Their stories end in smoke.

This entry chronicles the narrative from our group’s ongoing Path to Glory: Ravaged Coast campaign, set in the world of Warhammer Age of Sigmar. All settings, factions, and lore are part of the rich universe created by Games Workshop. We’re here to paint minis, roll dice, and let myths be forged.

1.  This campaign allows the inclusion of unique warscrolls and custom heroes created using the Anvil of Apotheosis rules. ↩︎
2. The players’ miniatures must meet a minimum painting standard to avoid penalties. Our campaign decided on an in-game consequence for units that don’t meet that standard: Cursed Warpstone Shards. Once per battle round, after priority is determined and beginning with the active player, both players may pick one enemy unit that does not meet the standard and has not yet been chosen. Those units cannot issue or receive commands for that battle round. ↩︎
3. The campaign will include periodic “Raid Weeks.” During these raids, the two warbands with the least emberstone may join forces to raid the one with the most. These desperate strikes take the form of 2v1 battles. If the raiders succeed, they reap bonus emberstone. If they fail, the defender tightens their grip on power—but even in failure, raiders still gain ground. ↩︎
4. The campaign concludes with a bracketed, single-elimination tournament, staged across multiple sessions. ↩︎