For ten thousand years, the seeker of arcane truths known as Ahriman has roamed the galaxy in a quest to acquire every artefact, every tome and every scroll that harbours eldritch powers
The Idoneth Deepkin are a mysterious race of aelves who dwell within the oceans of the Mortal Realms, emerging from their watery seclusion to plunder the souls of land-dwellers – a grim harvest upon which their very survival depends.
Black Templar Castellans function as Lieutenants for this esoteric successor Chapter. Acting as the right hand of their Marshal, they help direct their battle-brothers in war.
Every Sword Brother has earned their place among the Marshal's household through acts of unswerving faith and spectacular violence.
The Emperor's Champion is a humble warrior plucked out of the ranks of the Black Templars by the divine will of the Emperor himself.
As grizzled a warrior as his Chapter has ever known, High Chaplain Grimaldus is a beacon of Imperial faith. His fortitude is such that many of his brothers believe him invincible.
Helbrecht is the living embodiment of his Chapter's warrior spirit. Wielding the Sword of the High Marshals, he storms into the fray, bellowing oaths of vengeance as he leads the unstoppable charge.
Leading their Black Templars brethren from the front lines, Marshals exemplify the strength and skill of the warriors under their command.
Infused with the post-human might of the Primaris miracle, these Crusader Squads storm into battle with bolt rifles blazing and Astartes chainswords howling.
The Black Templars surge into battle like the Emperor's wrath made manifest. Streaking down from the void or thundering to war in mechanised spearheads, they strike with a fury that leaves Mankind's enemies reeling.
The Thousand Sons advance into battle amidst gouts of kaleidoscopic warpflame and bolts of raw sorcery. The heart of these arcane armies is comprised of Rubricae – implacable warriors who level salvo after salvo against the foe, marching at the command of the mighty Sorcerers and diabolic Infernal Masters who rule their fractured Legion. Around them come shrieking herds of Tzaangor, mutant shock troops armed with cursed blades and dark sorcery.
At first they appear as spectral blurs in the ethersea, distant streamlined shapes that seem to materialise from nowhere. With powerful thrusts of their sickle-finned tails, the forms grow all too quickly as they launch their attack