A master of gene-manipulation and bio-alchemy, the Biophagus is responsible for industrialising the process of indoctrination and infection.
Fireblades are the most grizzled and seasoned Fire Warriors of their cadre, whose skill at the Fire Warrior's art leads them to eschew battlesuit technology. They are excellent field leaders and their long experience has taught them exactly where to place shots to maximise damage.
The Archons are the masters of the Drukhari Kabals. Regal and monstrous in equal measure, each wields the power to enslave worlds and destroy civilisations.
Illusion, misdirection and terror are the psychic tools at the disposal of the Shadowseer. Wherever the Shadowseer treads on the battlefield discipline collapses, replaced by a bedlam of screams, gibbering and panicked, aimless gunfire.
Embracing the role of Death in its entirety, there is no mercy in the heart of a Death Jester. His outsize shuriken cannon reaps a deadly toll on his enemies as each round, impregnated with virulent biotoxins, causes its victims’ metabolisms to spectacularly detonate.
Commanding legion upon legion of deathless soldiers whose only purpose is to obey his every order, the Necron Overlord is a cold, calculating demigod.
The role of Imagifier is sacred amongst the Orders Militant. To these fervent Sisters falls the task of extolling the virtues of fallen Sororitas, and of preaching their deeds amidst the din of battle so that the martyr's spirit may inhabit the warriors of the Order.
Standing proud amid the blood and thunder of the front lines, a battle-scarred Commissar sets an unfaltering example to the men he leads. To the masses of humanity, these men are symbols of Imperial authority whose sole remit is to ensure that all do their duty in the Emperor’s name.
Spiritseers are those upon the Witch Path who are called to commune with the dead – a chilling concept, even amongst the Asuryani.
Masters of prediction, the Farseers are the strangest and most visionary of a craftworld's advisors. Even in battle they can perform their divinations, casting the complex wraithbone runes of the Aeldari into the air and interpreting changes as the glowing icons orbit around them.
Painboys are at home amongst the blood and horror of the battlefield, eagerly patching up lost limbs, doing a spot of welding on a broken face or furnishing the Warboss with a brand new flame-throwing arm.
Sworn to Nurgle’s service, Plague Marines have disgusting, rotted bodies that stink of decay.