Gristlegore is what the dream becomes in Ghur, the Realm of the Hunt, where even a delusion of gentle chivalry grows teeth. This is the most savage of the grand courts, its knighthood built not around courtesy but the chase, and its kings are beast-lords without peer, riding terrorgheists and zombie dragons from menageries no sane keeper would tend. Here honour is measured not in oaths kept but in quarry felled, and the greatest lords are those who bring down the largest prey.
The court's every rite runs red at the edges. Where other courts dream of family or salvation, Gristlegore dreams of the grand hunt eternal; its tourneys are less pageant than blood-sport, its feasts less banquet than kill. Its knights fight with a ferocity that shocks even their fellow ghouls, hurling themselves and their monstrous mounts into the fray like predators who have never imagined they might be prey.
Other courts of the Flesh-eater Courts send ambassadors to Gristlegore rarely, and those who go count themselves fortunate to leave intact. For here the line between honoured guest and fresh quarry is thin, drawn by a king whose delusion taught him grace but never restraint, and who may decide, mid-welcome, that a visitor would make a nobler trophy than an ally.
Order of battle
The Gristlegore field the units of the Flesh-eater Courts, a detachment from the roster:
Other Flesh-eater Courts formations
BlisterskinSeared by the pitiless light of Hysh, the Blisterskin believe themselves radiant beings: angelic knights whose scorched hides are haloes of glory. They are the swiftest of the grand courts, favoring winged deliverance from above, and they descend upon the benighted as saviors bearing illumination. Few of the saved survive their gratitude.
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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