The Blisterskin took root in Hysh, the Realm of Light, and its merciless brilliance burned their delusion into a particular shape. Scorched, blistered, and peeling beneath a sun that never sets, the ghouls of this court do not see disfigurement when they look upon one another: they see radiance. Each believes his cracked hide a halo, his court a host of shining seraphim, and their king a luminous saviour bearing light into dark places. They are, to themselves, angels.
They make war as angels are imagined to: from above, and at speed. The Blisterskin are the swiftest of the grand courts, favouring winged crypt-horrors that plunge out of the glare, and they descend upon isolated settlements as deliverers bearing salvation. In their minds they lift the wretched into glory; what falls from the sky is a shrieking storm of talons and hunger, and the light they bring is the last thing their rescued see.
Few who are saved by the Blisterskin survive the saving. That is the horror the court can never perceive: within the shared dream of the Flesh-eater Courts, the Blisterskin genuinely believe themselves merciful, and their mercy arrives with such radiant speed that gratitude and slaughter become, for their victims, the same brief and blinding instant.
Order of battle
The Blisterskin field the units of the Flesh-eater Courts, a detachment from the roster:
Other Flesh-eater Courts formations
GristlegoreThe most savage of the grand courts, rooted in the beast-haunted wilds of Ghur, where even the delusion runs red at the edges. Gristlegore's kings are peerless beast-lords who ride terrorgheists and worse from their royal menageries, and its knights measure honor by the size of the quarry brought down. Ambassadors from other courts visit rarely, and count themselves fortunate to leave.
HollowmourneA crusading court driven by a grief none of its knights can name. The Hollowmourne believe their line was betrayed in some distant age, and they ride out beneath tattered banners to punish oathbreakers, cowards, and the craven wherever the delusion finds them. Their wars never end, because the wound they avenge was never real, and so can never heal.
MorgauntThe oldest and greatest of the grand courts, where the delusion runs deepest in the bonds between king and vassal. In Morgaunt every serf believes himself kin to his lord, every knight would die for the commons he imagines he protects, and that terrible loyalty makes the court's hosts nearly impossible to break. Whole generations have been born, ennobled, and buried within its dream without once seeing the ruin around them.
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