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.
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.
In this kit, you’ll find 10 Poxwalkers. Each is uniquely unpleasant, armed with hastily improvised close-combat weapons, or bare teeth and fingernails. The Poxwalkers themselves are ghastly, their pallid faces twisted into sneering grimaces. Mutations, boils and gashes cover their spindly limbs.
This plastic kit comes as 24 components, and is supplied with 10 25mm Round bases. Rules for these miniatures are included in the box.
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The worshippers of the Dark Gods know that there is power in words and numbers, incantations and arcane numerology. Seven is the unholy number of Nurgle, and the preachers of this doctrine are the Tallymen.
Sworn to Nurgle’s service, Plague Marines have disgusting, rotted bodies that stink of decay.
Sinister, hooded figures, Plague Surgeons drift through the mayhem of battle like ghoulish spectres of death.
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.
Plagueburst Crawlers are lumbering, formidable siege tanks whose huge ram-blades, thick armour plating and daemonic energies provide them with incredible resilience.
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.
Labouring through the air on buzzing turbines and driven by the trapped essence of a Nurgle Daemon, the Foetid Bloat-drone drifts toward the enemy like an armoured plague fly.
Typhus, Lord of Mortarion’s First Plague Company and Host of the Destroyer Hive, is the most feared of all Plague Fleet commanders.
Festooned with swaying plague censers and tainted bells, Miasmic Malignifiers belch thick clouds of miasmal fumes from their rusted chimneys.
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 great labour of the Death Guard is to spread Nurgle’s bounteous gift to every corner of realspace.
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.
Blightlord Terminators are relentless and unstoppable, elite Death Guard warriors bound forever to mutated suits of Cataphractii armour.
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.
For ten thousand years Mortarion, Lord of the Death Guard, has crushed his enemies upon the field of battle.
