A Chaos Lord is a tyrannical warrior king who lives to bathe in the blood of worlds. He strives to bring whole star systems to their knees in the name of his patron deities. Typified by merciless ambition and fierce pride, many of these champions of disorder were once noble Chapter Masters and Captains of the Adeptus Astartes, but long years of unremitting war have twisted their souls beyond recovery.
Death Guard Plague Marines
Bloated with festering corruption, Plague Marines form the mainstay of the Death Guard, and unlike many Traitor Legions their numbers have only swollen as the millennia have passed. Sworn to Nurgle’s service, Plague Marines have disgusting, rotted bodies that stink of decay. The putrescent slime that oozes from their sores corrodes armour boils away skin, yet despite their horrific disfigurements they are fearsome warriors indeed.
This multi-part plastic kit contains the components necessary to assemble a 7-man squad of Plague Marines. Each is posed dynamically, with the usual Death Guard accoutrements – cracked, rotting armour revealing grasping tentacles, severed heads displayed proudly on belts, backpacks sloshing with unnatural diseases and pipework leading from rebreathers to Nurgle knows what foul concoctions. There’s an Icon of Despair included, so your unit can feature an icon bearer.
These models feature a wide range of weapons and heads, many of which are designed to fit a specific model – there are 8 boltguns, 4 plague knives, 2 bubotic axes, a blight launcher, a plasma gun, a meltagun, a plaguebelcher, a heavy plaguespewer (with backpack), a mace of contagion, a great plague cleaver, a plague flail, a plasma pistol and a bolt pistol. There are 2 weapon options available for the unit Champion: a specific plaguesword and power fist, and there are a total of 16 bare and helmeted heads. 2 specific arms are included for a model holding a blight grenade, with one hand pulling the pin.
This kit comes as 146 components, and is supplied with 7 Citadel 32mm Round bases.
Havocs provide the Traitor Legions with devastating anti-infantry and anti-armour firepower, dominating large swathes of the battlefield with volley after punishing volley. Such is the blood-pounding thrill of pouring heavy fire into the enemy ranks that many Havocs become obsessed by the power their weapons afford them. They see themselves as gods of the battlefield, blasting the insect vermin of the enemy into oblivion with each twitch of the finger.
Dark Apostles make up the priesthood of the Dark Gods. Just as the Chaplains of the loyalist Space Marines uphold the creeds of their Chapters, the Dark Apostles devote their lives to the propagation of the unholy word, actively spreading the worship of Chaos across the galaxy. Their efforts do not go unrewarded – Dark Apostles are surrounded by daemonic auras of protection that shimmer and writhe as they chant their blasphemous prayers.
Heldrakes are winged Daemon Engines that plummet out of the skies like living comets, hurtling towards enemy aircraft and crashing claws-first into them from above. A Heldrake takes cruel joy in diving down upon the unsuspecting air support of the enemy in order to shred them to pieces with its scything wings and rune-carved talons.
Striding onto the battlefield like a demigod of war, the Despoiler scowls at the mortal chattel before him. He is an ender of worlds, a destroyer of hope, a bane unto the galaxy itself. Yet he is not beyond the siren call of battle, and leads his Black Legion to acts of pitiless slaughter whenever a worthy foe is near.
Amidst the thunderous tumult of battle, a Master of Executions strides unflinchingly forwards, his mind focused on the gruesome decapitations he will soon administer. He is a being of singular purpose, a brutal weapon in the arsenal of the Heretic Astartes, and his existence is driven by an unquenchable desire to take as trophies the heads of mighty champions and charismatic leaders.
Chaos Terminators are heavily armoured veterans clad in debased suits of Tactical Dreadnought armour. They form the elite of their masters’ warbands, for though they are ponderous compared to their power armour-clad comrades, nothing short of a dedicated anti-tank laser can stop a Terminator in full stride. Spiked trophy racks protrude from massive shoulders, the skulls of the enemy a barbaric testament to their wearer’s martial prowess. Helmets have grown into bestial masks that sprout great tusks and razored horns, many of which have fused directly into the skulls of their wearers.