Aktywne filtry
It is the Tidecasters who conjure the phantasmal sea that allows aelf and aquatic beast to move and breathe as if they were in their own natural environment.
To the oppressed masses of a Genestealer Cult, the Kelermorph is a figure of folk legend, a revolutionary hero battling the uncaring cruelty of authoritarian rule. To the enemy he is a figure of dread, a hated anarch who seeks to tear down the foundations of civilisation.
A champion amongst the mutant aberrants of the cult, the Abominant is a misshapen wrecking ball of muscle and chitin that wields a heavy bludgeoning instrument as if it weighs no more than a switch of willow.
Nexoses act as each Genestealer Cult’s central nervous system.
Stoic and inhumanly patient, the Locus can go from sombre stillness to a blur of motion in an eye-blink. This sudden eruption of violence is as startling as it is deadly.
Sanctuses are the favoured blades of their Patriarch, assassins whose task it is to eliminate any who oppose the cultists’ ascension to glory.
Their control of the hybrids around them is total. As a prophet of their Patriarch, the word of a Magus is law, and their telepathic abilities are more than powerful enough to enforce it.
The Clamavus is an information assassin supreme, seeding audio-viruses into the planetary vox network and dismantling communications. It is their role to create an aura of fear and confusion that their kin can exploit.
A master of gene-manipulation and bio-alchemy, the Biophagus is responsible for industrialising the process of indoctrination and infection.
Veteran squig-herders who muster ravening packs of cave-beasts, Squigbosses don’t so much command their fungal herds as offer incentives of potent mushrooms, balanced by occasional jabbings from their squig-krooks. Most go to battle accompanied by loyal Gnasha-squigs, who gleefully chomp at anything that gets too close – this predatory pet is often their closest friend, for other grots find anyone that even a squig won't eat to be deeply suspect.
Rabble-Rowzas are grots who have taken it upon themselves to rile up the subterranean hordes. These self-important agitators clatter their weapons, stamp their feet, and bellow ‘wakey-wakey’ at deafening volume. So grating are their magically enhanced voices that they can stir even the most stubborn troglodytic titans from their slumber.
There is no engine of the oppressors that a Reductus Saboteur cannot lay low, and there are few materials they cannot fashion into an explosive given a little time to tinker. Flitting through the shadows, they lace the battlefield with booby traps and deploy powerful explosives that make short work of enemy armour.