Twisted arcanists, wicked of intent and strange of form, Exalted Sorcerers have an encyclopædic knowledge of spells and are able to bend reality to their desires.
Beasts of Nurgle are slug-like monstrosities whose enormous bodies are weighed down with slime-slick muscle and blubber.
Warlock Bombardiers are those engineers who develop a particular penchant for weapons that deliver explosive death from extreme range. Their alchemical armaments cause utter devastation wherever they strike home.
The Great Unclean Ones are Nurgle’s mightiest daemons. Towering over their enemies, these living hillocks of rotting flesh lumber across the battlefield swinging their rusted weapons, vomiting streams of filth and unleashing diseased magics upon the foe.
The latest creations from the crazed laboratories of the Clans Skryre, Stormfiends are hulking brutes stitched together from a variety of body parts.
Scarab Occult Terminators were once the finest psykers in the Thousand Sons Legion, bodyguards to Magnus the Red himself. Reduced to dust along with their brethren, they now possess only an echo of their previous intellect.
The air screams as Magnus the Red descends from the skies, and stone runs molten beneath his shadow. Cyclopean son of the Emperor of Mankind, his very presence is anathema to logic.
Horrific examples of pure pestilence given form, Verminlord Corruptors live up to their name, existing only to despoil and corrupt.
A Lord of Blights is a brutish figure who creates and destroys in equal measure. Swollen with muscle, he lumbers into the midst of the foe swinging his bubotic hammer in thunderous arcs.
Stepping out from the fog of war come the Rubricae. Many of these undying warriors were psykers in their own right, before an ancient curse damned them to an eternity as living husks – their baroque power armour now contains nothing but sparkling dust.
Driven into battle by their frenzied faith, the Plague Monks of Clan Pestilens are a repulsive tidal wave of filth that smashes into their enemies with the power of a flood.
Hidden behind the dread mask of one of Nurgle’s executioners, the Lord of Plagues gazes impassively at the victims of the vile blessings that swathe him.