Lead your corrupted household to war with these datacards – an invaluable reference resource for Chaos Knights players. These cards are designed to make referencing key information in your games simple, giving you more time to crush your weakling enemies beneath your mighty tread.
Powering into battle on a trio of articulated track units, the Myphitic Blight-hauler is a light Daemon Engine that provides the Death Guard with heavy firepower wherever it is needed. Resembling a Bloat-drone that has been stripped of its turbines, this strange machine has heavy weapons mounted on its carapace, and its rusting armoured plates can absorb impressive punishment – as can its blubbery exposed flesh-parts, which soak up appalling trauma.
Designed to be as easy as possible to assemble for new hobbyists while being detailed enough for the hardiest veteran to appreciate, this kit is an Easy To Build Death Guard Myphitic Blight-hauler. Push-fit, with no glue required, this is incredibly straightforward to put together and comes on a pre-coloured green plastic sprue.
The Myphitic Blight-hauler is an unpleasant combination of machine and putrid rotting meat. From the front, it resembles some grotesque armoured vehicle, with a curved carapace featuring the symbol of Nurgle and 2 large, covered tracks. Where this differs from an ordinary attack vehicle, however, is the toothed maw at the bottom. From the rear, the horror continues – a third track is visible, along with a mass of flabby flesh, bound into the machine with straps and metal. The Myphitic Blight-hauler is armed with a multi-melta and missile launcher, which are mounted either side of the carapace.
This plastic kit comes as 13 components, and is supplied with a Citadel 80mm Round base. Rules for this miniature are included in the box.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Not even the Space Marines are safe from the lure of Chaos. Whether they hail from the dark days of the Horus Heresy or turned traitor more recently, these baleful warriors combine their gene-given gifts with dark blessings and malefic sorceries, transformed by years of battle into fearless, superhuman reavers.