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.
A revolting stench wafts around the Foul Blightspawn, his corruption clotting the air itself. Breath rattles through pus-slick tubes as he cranks the rusted handle of his malignant churn, bellows wheezing and plague slop roiling in the incubatum upon his back. Some foes stare in bewilderment at this strange performance. Some direct their fire at the Blightspawn, shots rebounding from his armour ot thumping harmlessly through rotten flesh in sprays of effluence. The wise, however, flee for their lives.
This multi-part plastic kit contains the components necessary to assemble a Foul Blightspawn. He carries an enormous, sinister tank on his back – the incubatum – brimming with foul and noxious disease, which he squirts indiscriminately with malign cheerfulness. His plague sprayer in his left hand drips this vile concoction with no thought for where it may land. A crack in his armour shows the unpleasant extent of his modifications; the gears and pistons of a malignant churn are forcibly driven into his guts. His armour, as well as being covered in rot, features plenty of icons of Nurgle, skulls and rust. There’s even an optional Nurgling clutching a blight grenade to be added to the base.
This kit comes as 8 components, and is supplied with a Citadel 40mm Round base.
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.
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.
Shambling across the battlefield in reeking hordes, Poxwalkers engulf their enemies in rotting tides of grasping hands, gnashing teeth and squirming tentacles. They are the cursed victims of Nurgle’s plagues, transformed into unliving weapons by the cruel masters of the Death Guard.
A Lord Discordant is a machine-obsessed heretic who scuttles across the battlefield atop a Helstalker mount, all the while exuding a palpable aura of anarchy. His mere presence short-circuits machinery not already riddled with daemonic entities – actuators and servos whir erratically, and targeting augurs simply cease to function. The Lord Discordant siphons off the pained spirit of dying vehicles, using the harvested energy to reinvigorate other Daemon Engines or releasing it as a screaming beam to infect the systems of other enemy vehicles. The most famous among the Lords Discordant, Vex Machinator, brought anarchy to the hivesprawls of Vigilus during the War of Nightmares.
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.
The Pale Harvestmen; the Scythes of Nurgle; the Eyes of Mortarion. The elite warriors of the Deathshroud go by many names, and every one is redolent with a miasma of fear and menace. Swollen with unnatural power, the Deathshroud tower over their enemies. Rusted gauntlets and squirming tentacles clutch huge battle scythes known as manreapers, cursed weapons that slice heads from shoulders and limbs from torsos with every swing. Clouds of plague flies boil around the Deathshroud, while vile smog spills from vents in their armour to choke and blind their foes.
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.
Tubes and pipes erupt in profusion from the Lord of Virulence’s armour. These gout noxious fumes are putrid eruptions whose hue and stench guide the fire of artillery engines behind the lines. In their wake, their flensefrond cloaks leave a trail of sickening mucosal slime for hungry Daemon Engines to follow.
The Death Guard are the greatest champions of the Plague God, Grandfather Nurgle, his favoured spreaders of his bounteous gifts. Look upon them and see the signs: pus seeping from festering wounds that never heal; miasmic smogs of corrosive, stinking gas hanging thickly in the air wherever Nurgle’s chosen tread; the wriggling, lamprey-mouthed tick-leeches that clamp on to their rotting flesh; the droning billions of plague flies that swarm the battlefields they stalk and the ships in which they course through the stars.
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.