Morgaunt is the eldest of the grand courts and the one in which the dream has sunk deepest into the bone. Where other courts hold their delusion as pageantry, Morgaunt holds it as family. Every scrabbling serf believes himself kin to his king, every knight is certain the wretched commons he leads are his own beloved people, and this imagined kinship binds the court into something no fear can shatter. A Morgaunt host does not break, for to break would mean abandoning family, and its ghouls would sooner die to the last than leave a cousin behind.
That loyalty is the court's terrible strength. Enemies who have shattered other courts find Morgaunt's ranks closing over their dead and pressing on, singing, holding breaches no rational soldiery would hold, dying with the names of imagined loved ones on their lips. There is no gap between what a Morgaunt ghoul professes and what it will pay; the devotion is total, and totally sincere.
Whole generations have been born beneath Morgaunt's vaults, ennobled and buried, without once glimpsing the ruin around them. It is, in its way, the cruellest court of the Flesh-eater Courts: not for any excess of savagery, but because the love inside it is real, and aimed at a kingdom that was never there.
Order of battle
The Morgaunt 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.
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.
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